#i’m working on a few other chars as well there’s. a Range

[crimson-nail]

meryl stryfe? oh fuck sorry i thought you said meryl shrike

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Its been a bit of a while since I put some fiction up. I'm gonna introduce another character while I am at it, because why not.

Here I introduce "Puffing Billy" or as his human name is, William Vauclain the 1st. Esq. or Victorian Railways NA-class 2-6-2 T 2A, one of a pair of original Baldwin Works locomotives sent to Australia; one of many "Puffing Billies" that chuff along the Narrow Gauge Belgrave to Gembrook line in the Dandenong Ranges.

(Baldwin Works of Philadelphia in the early days of the Victorian Railways produced a lot of locomotives for them, the so called "Yankee" locomotives; to my limited knowledge, a Baldwin D3 is preserved at the Newport Railway Museum, all the rest have been scrapped including 1A and 2A; but 2A lives on has my fictional char...)

All the remaining NAs, including the ones that chuff around the Puffing Billy railway today, were built at Newport Workshops.

Here he meets Heavy Harry in for the first time, in the midst of the Scrappings...

The Man In Black

Preamble

Sometime in the late 60's

“You call me ‘cute’ again, and I will break your kneecaps! I might be short, but your knees and shins are perfectly in reach, you great galoot!”

The tiny, short, potbellied narrow gauge engine in human form stares with unblinking hostility at the black clad titan and his slighter red-haired companion. The big Man In Black merely stares back with an inscrutable expression.

He is only 5ft’’, 1’, but he is very round, squat and powerful. He is clad in an old-timey American engineers outfit, complete with striped hat and thick gloves. The only tell of his locomotive being is the lamp affixed to his hat.

He kept this affectation long after he got humanised, no matter how much the humans that ran the joint discouraged him from doing so. It amused him to tease and vex railfans by wearing such an out-of-place set of clothing on an Australian preservation railway.

He is not at all impressed by the pair of tall timbers in front of him dressed like delinquents.

Yobbos.

He had been in the country long enough to know what a ''yobbo'' was, if they played the fool on his railway he’d chase them off.

Others he’d cut to pieces with dour humor if they ever even so much as smirked at his get up.

The Man in Black takes a puff of the cigarette.

“Stroppy little bastard, aren’t you?”

“I’d be ‘stroppy’ if some so-called 'King of the Railways' came over to my abode and started throwing their weight around! I haven’t seen you in the entire time we’ve existed, and now that the VR has destroyed your railway, you show up to mine!

Whaddya want?!”

“I never said I was the king of anything. No Gods, No Masters…”, said the Man In Black, the red-head shaking his head from side to side.

“Nae, not a word of it!” said the red head.

“Then why are you even here, all the way in the Dandenongs? Don’t you have a heritage railway of your own to puff around on?”, the little tank engine stood proud, chomping on his cigar.

“You have no idea who I am and why I have come, haven’t you?”

“All I know is that there’s this guy, this Big Harold fellow, who you seem to be, who’s some kind of king of the VR locomotives… well, you aren’t my king!”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not looking for subjects then…” said the Man In Black.

“Then why have you come all the way over here, surely its tiring for your big self to be walking around like this…”

Silence for a few moments. A nerve had been struck.

“I’ve heard you are a stroppy bastard, Puffing Billy… It just so happens I really, really like stroppy bastards...”

Puffing Billy is suspicious, narrowing his eyes to slits. “What do you want from me…”,

“First, I want to know who built you…””

Puffing Billy is taken aback… “You came over all the way from where you live just to ask me that?

‘If it’s that important, its Baldwin Works, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States of America to you!”, he gesticulates, pointing sassily at the Man In Black.

“Hmmmm, Billy from Philadelphia… shall I call you ‘Billy From Philly’ to distinguish you from the other Puffing Billies here?"

Puffing Billy laughed for the first time since meeting the Man In Black, “’Billy From Philly’!?, Ha! Only took about a half a century for someone to come up with it, but I like it!

But I presume there's something more to this…”

“Yes. There was nothing arbitrary with what I said about me liking ‘stroppy bastards’. I heard you are the stroppiest of all in this state…”

“Uh huh…”

“You and your humans have managed to stave off the scrappers during the Lokodammerung, haven’t you? And Operation Phoenix?”

The little engine scratches his head.

“I can’t lie, big fella, it was a very tough going for a while. We did close a while, but we opened up because the humans wanted us operating, and managed to wrangle control of the railway ever so slowly from VR to the Preservation Society. We won a huge battle and we’re damn proud of it!

‘But we can’t just physically fight the scrapping, Big Harold! Its impossible!”

The Man In Black only smiled his ironic half-smile.

“Oh yes we can… but not as an end in of itself, we aren’t martyrs. We do that, we lose.

‘We can’t simply fight them, we need to make things easier for our human allies and ourselves and to make things more difficult for them… we need to buy some time for our kin and an opportunity for our human brethren to rescue them...”

‘This is what I need you, your cussedness and your gift with machinery for…”

“I’m listening…” said the newly minted Billy From Philly.

[grumpy-zane]

In which a Man is Misplaced -- Ft. Dareth in the departed realm

(This writing takes place in the same AU as the past EMs showing up in ninjago.)

[Part 2 ] - https://at.tumblr.com/grumpy-zane/in-which-a-man-is-misplaced-ft-dareth-in-the/1wvx49m7z5qy

Midnight hour was approaching at Laffys bar. Dareth had little downtime to notice as he made his rounds to chit-chat and take orders.

Outside the wind had picked up and pressed against the doors and windows, howling through the streets and funneling through every nook and cranny. The cold air felt nice in the hot old building, especially in the kitchen were grease and fire crackled.

"Two fries, an onion, 3 colas, a sunset," Dareth stepped back around the bar to fix up the drinks. He worked around the other employee, informing him of the order before setting him off to deliver them and slipping into the kitchen.

Immediately, the cold air hit him as he faced the damp brick wall. He blinked a few times before turning around to head back in. "Wrong door, hey Marte since when did we get a-" he paused as the room read him.

Jazz music rang through his ears as people sitting around smaller circular tables glanced up at him from their quiet conversing. Beside him sat the bar, where it always has been, yet the woman working was beyond unfamiliar. Even the setup was strange, but the layout of the building was exactly as he remembered.

Dareth eased himself onto one of the leathery stools as the bartender stood at his attention. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know where I am, would you?"

She smiled, "Of course suh, this is Fauna Laffys Bar and Dive."

"Um," that was the name of the establishment long before he owned it. A fire had burned down the building before the serpentine wars, taking several people with it. Afterwards it was rebuilt, but without the owner the building was named colloquially and it had stayed that way ever since.

It was at that moment he noticed the somewhat charred features of the customers and bartender before him, a cold chill harrowing down his spine. "And you are?"

"Why I'm Fauna Laffy. Can I get you something?" She asked.

Dareth's head swam, "water?"

She snorted as she grabbed a glass, "pleny a' that outside, best I can do is put a few ices in to spice it up. Never seen ya 'round here before, how'd you go?"

He caught the cup as it slid across the wood, the contents in it swirling with an unnaturally green hue. "How did I go?"

"Yeah. Parker over there an' I went down with the building, did something happen again?"

"Y-you mean, died??"

Fauna laughed, "Oh no you didn't go in your sleep did ya? No wonder you look so confused wakin' up in the dead land, poor thing. And so young too..."

A pit dropped in his stomach. Him? Dead? “No, no I didn’t...I must have fallen asleep somehow, or- or this is a joke of some sort, yeah...” he mumbled as he scanned the room once more, “I was just in Laffys, in ninjago city, I just was! How could I have..”

“Well you still are,” Laffy interrupted, “You’re still here in the city, just now you’re in the realm of the departed. Really it in’t that hard to integrate as people think. Why you’ll see what’s familiar to ya.”

“B-but this isn’t the Laffys I know a-and I never knew you or him or her or-”

“suh?”

Dareth shot up and shook his hands, “I need to go-”

The crowded street shifted in surprise as he clamored out the door. The dark green hue of the land coated every surface present in the red sun’s light. The city, submerged in a false blanket of water, was divided between the streets and the high-rising scrapers that broke through the waves. Undead gloom escaped from the vents and subway tunnels in bouts of thick fog that clung to the ground.  Beyond the rippling ceiling he could make out more buildings that floated unnaturally by any means necessary, their hues basked in warm golds.

Dareth scrambled into a sprint as he took off down the street. He dodged and weaved around beings of all origins, dashing out into the road and turning it into an orchestra of horns. Looking up made his head spin, looking down made him feel sick, and any other direction lead him further into a panicked state. “I am dreaming!” He shouted as he panted, “I have to be!”

But as he stopped and leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath, the saltiness he tasted on his lips as he licked them told him anything but.

Certainly, however, this was not the departed realm. From the stories and movies he knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this, especially not so green and murky. It was a happy place, a place that everyone wound up in eventually. “Yeah, this is just another world-ending event,” he said, “Just like normal. Just another normal day in Ninjago City... I just need to get home and relax and wait it out.”

The apartment complex near the docks where he resided had seemed to have had some redecorating. Many potted plants and small trees decorated the outside windows, spreading vines up the side and around trellises in a controlled fashion. A variety of flowers were in bloom, though Dareth found himself disappointed in the lack of scents they were giving off.

“Whatever apocalypse is happening, at least it looks good,” he mused as he walked up the stairwell to his door. Opening it, he came face to face with an old woman and her 8 cats. “How did you get into my apartment?”

“Your apartment? Can I help you?” She asked, her cats meowing.

“Yeah, I live here, and I would like to relax. See my key fits in this lock,” Dareth said.

The woman huffed, “Relaxing is for the old! A young man like you should be working! Why, what kind of a fool thinks he can relax in a city hmm? Your bet is to get out of town. Good day,”

The door was shut on him, leaving him bewildered by the predicament. “Get out of town, why didn’t I think of that?”

--

The buildings became older the farther away from the ocean he went. Gradually they tapered shorter and shorter, the colours on their walls becoming more lively and vintage with dated trimmings and fixtures. A clock-tower stood up above the roof line, marking the destination many went to when they needed a vacation from the chaos: the train station. And what luck that was for him that the train was in.

Once more he weaved through the crowd, skipping over the ticket station completely and heading straight to the first conductor he saw. “Excuse me, when is this train leaving?”

His dirty blonde hair swirled around his face as he looked down over his circular glasses, “The next train is leaving shortly. My name is Favrile, may I help you get a ticket?”

“Dareth, and sure,” Dareth smiled, scratching his head. Most of the passengers and tenants moved at a normal speed, unphased by the submerged land around them. “You know I’m kind of surprised people seem so calm. Normally there would be, you know, more pushing?”

The conductor handed another luggage container from the side compartment off, “Why do you say that?”

“Crazier stuff has happened to the city sure, from a giant snake to the spider guy to stone warriors, but all of this is the most wild thing I’ve seen in a long time. I mean, water you can breathe in, floating buildings, a red sun- its all pretty out there.”

Favrile blinked and dusted himself off, “No it’s all pretty normal ever since the cursed realm melted. You must be pretty new to being dead?”

“Oh on I’m not dead, I’m just um, it’s just another normal day in Ninjago?”

Favrile stared through him, “You’re in the departed realm, you have to be dead. How did you even get here otherwise?”

He hummed and picked at his fingers, “Um, I was just trying to fill out an order for a few customers... And then when I looked up, I was here.”

“That’s not...” He fixed his glasses before tapping his chin. The hair swirled around his face as the gears in his head turned over. “Could it be related to the event..? No.. maybe?”

“The event? What event?” Was this not an event enough?

The train whistle sounded off marking the departure. The door hissed shut and snap-locked as the wheels spewed steam from their hydraulics. Favrile let go of the railing and signaled a thumbs up to the head conductor, waving them off before grabbing Dareth’s hand and pulling him into the punch-card office.

“What event, what happened?” he asked again, eyeing the multitude of marked wooden drawers.

Favrile pulled his card out of the rack and punched out, “It was yesterday or two days ago. There was an event where a whole bunch of elemental masters left the departed realm. Something about a lotto and ‘making it fair for everyone’. You must have gotten mixed up in all of that somehow. Slipped in here somehow without dying.”

Panic once more chased his hands up his jacket ends. "So, am I stuck here? Forever?"

Favrile eyed him, "It sure seems that way huh?" 

"Oh no, no no," Dareth sobbed and pressed his palms into his eyes, "no, no I'm not ready, I didn't even do anything, I just got mixed up again I didn't even try this time...worst part is I wasn’t even able to say goodbye to anyone..." 

Now it was his turn to play with his suit, the conductors hands squeezing the buttons down his sternum. It wasn't fair, even though it was supposed to be, at least in the words of the FSM who ran the lotto in the first place. 

And since when did the FSM have the authority of this place to deem what is and isn’t fair? Since when did he have any authority over whats wrong or right in any realm? Crossing that guy always seemed to be trouble, however, but he had done it once before...

The conductor cleared his throat, "Dareth."

"Mmmyeah?" He wiped his face.

"You don't belong here, you belong in Ninjago, you're here by someone else's mistake. So we're going to get you home, it's only right." 

"How?" He sniffed. 

Favrile smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, "with a will, there's a way, and I know a guy that lives exactly that." 

[encyclopika]

Animal Crossing Fish - Explained #214

Brought to you by a marine biologist and a trout who is a char...

CLICK HERE FOR THE AC FISH EXPLAINED MASTERPOST!

We’ve talked about the trouble with common names before. If an animal has a large range, then it just happens that people in different places or even professions call the animal something different. For me personally, there are quite a few marine fish who basically have 3 or more names - their common name, their scientific name, and the fisherman’s name. It also happens that multiple species get called something - like “bass” and “trout” - and the name becomes kind of useless. So, let’s talk about the Brook Trout who falls under that curse.

So, first of all, if you don’t remember this guy being in the games, there’s good reason for that. In the English release of the very first AC game, the Brook Trout replaced the Herabuna...and then neither of them were ever seen again in an AC game. The Brook Trout doesn’t even get the luxury of being sneaky, like the Rainbow Trout and Golden Trout fiasco. It just got cut and that’s the end of it. And to tell ya, with Salmonidae, the Family that includes all of the salmon, char, trout, etc. species is well documented in AC, so, it would have been redundant. (And I know that *clearly* Nintendo doesn’t give a crap about redundancy, but sometimes it feels like they do...)

Now, I’m guessing that the Brook Trout took the Herabuna’s spot in the first game because it is primarily a North American freshwater fish. Both species had just about the same role in the games, so the replacement is pretty obvious. For native Brook Trout in the US and Canada, their range has shifted from the more Eastern side of the continent to the Northwest, due to habitat degradation and the introductions of Rainbow Trout and Brown Trout. On the other hand, Brook Trout have been introduced to a number of other places, including Europe, New Zealand, and Argentina, so, despite their native range changing, they are overall a very secure species.

By Karelj - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14953913

Like “bass”, the term “trout” is used liberally with a number of species in both the Salmo genus and Salvelinus genus with the Salmonidae Family. The Brook Trout (Salvelinus fontinalis) belongs to the latter genus, which is the genus for “char”. The kicker here, is that Salmonidae may be kind of like Darwin’s finches, in that, many species have radiated into separate niches, behaviors, and areas. The number of species is highly up for debate, with the highest estimate of diversity within Salvelinus at 51 species. However, with the enormous likelihood of sub-speciation, hybridization (which is common between Brook Trout and Arctic Char, for example, especially for fish-stocking ventures), and non-native introductions, it’d be a cold day in hell before the salmon family is really figured out. So...yeah...maybe calling them all “trout” is just easier for the rest of us!

And there you have it. Fascinating stuff, no? 

[freyayuki]

Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia Garnet Til Alexandros XVII LD Banner

The Whither Feelings (Intersecting Wills) event just started in the Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia (DFFOO) mobile game. This event came with 1 banner.

Whither Feelings (Intersecting Wills) Banner

The Whither Feelings (Intersecting Wills) banner features the following chars and their weapons:

Lann & Reynn from World of Final Fantasy - Burst or BT only

Garnet Til Alexandros XVII from Final Fantasy IX - 15cp, 35cp, Ex, and LD

Kam'lanaut from Final Fantasy XI - 15cp, 35cp, Ex, and LD

Irvine Kinneas from Final Fantasy VIII - 15cp, 35cp, and Ex

Missing Lann & Reynn’s BT. Have Garnet’s 15cp, 35cp, and Ex fully MLB. Her Ex is at Ex+ 3/3 or Purple. Missing her LD. 

Have Kam'lanaut’s 15cp fully MLB. He’s equipped with his Ex that hasn’t been limit broken at all. Missing his 35cp and LD. Have all of Irvine’s weapons in varying states of MLB. His Ex is either at base Ex only or at Ex+ 0/3.

Kam'lanaut is outdated by now so he isn’t really worth talking about. Irvine doesn’t even have an LD so he’s even more powercrept than Kam'lanaut. 

However, Irvine does have a good E Sphere so wouldn’t mind getting dupes of his Ex. He has an E Sphere called Debuff Success Ranged Attack Up Longer. Its effect is:

When inflicting debuff on target: • Raises own ranged ATK by 15% for 6 turns *Does not stack with same sphere

Garnet has a good Sphere too. Hers is a C Sphere called HP Heal Attack Up Longer. Its effect is:

When recovering own HP: • Raises own ATK by 10% for 6 turns

Gave my first and so far only copy of this Sphere to Aeris or Aerith Gainsborough from Final Fantasy VII.

Garnet Til Alexandros XVII from Final Fantasy IX Info

Been hearing some pretty good things about Garnet Til Alexandros XVII from Final Fantasy IX (#ad). She’s a pretty good support with decent buffs and auras. She can battery the party. 

She can heal too although it’s only via casting her LD and Ex. Her LD provides some off-turn damage with additional party battery and more buffs and auras. 

She’s also one of the few chars who can imperil and enchant. In her case, she can enchant the party and imperil enemies with the water and thunder elements.

Garnet’s gonna be helpful for the Lufenia+ quest that comes with her event as well as the upcoming Boss Rush where she’ll also be synergy. So I was seriously considering pulling for her. 

She may not be the best support out there but she works well enough and besides, one can never have too many supports.

Moreover, while I have other chars who can imperil and enchant thunder, I don’t really have anyone who can do the same for the water element.

Another point in favor of pulling for Garnet was how mine was already fully built. Her Ex is Purple already. All her Summon Boards have been completed. 

Also already finished her Character Enhancement Boards for her 15cp, 35cp, and Ex weapons.

Even have perfect Artifacts for her already - 3 ATK 108 with MAX BRV 330 and 3 ATK 108 with Princess’s Resolve Boost★★ (Raises INT BRV, MAX BRV, ATK, DEF by 5% if HP is MAX at start of last wave).

So all I was really missing now was her LD and her LD Board as well as her High Armor.

If I get Garnet’s LD, wouldn’t have to spend a lot of resources to get her up and running and ready for Lufenia+ fights.

The fact that Garnet is gonna be useful for the Whither Feelings Lufenia+ quest and the upcoming Boss Rush was also a point in her favor because she’ll make it easier for me to go through the aforementioned fights with Ace from Final Fantasy Type-0, Sephiroth from Final Fantasy VII, and Zack Fair from Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII and Final Fantasy VII. 

Currently, I’m trying to run all 3 through all the Lufenia+ quests. Not all at the same time, of course. 

Usually, I can manage 2 clears - one with Ace and Zack and another with Ace and Sephiroth. The third char is usually a support and/or someone who can take care of the Lufenia orbs.

However, I have yet to recover my ticket stash after spending basically all of them on the banner featuring Shelke Rui’s (from Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII) weapons. I talk more about this on another post.

Then I ended up throwing the few tickets I managed to get on the banner featuring Lann & Reynn’s LD and BT but failed to get either so it just felt like a waste. 

Instead of wasting the few tickets I had left, I figured it was better to just try pulling for Garnet’s LD with gems. At least I was also missing the other LD featured on this banner and maybe I might be able to get Lann & Reynn’s BT as well. 

My goal is Garnet’s LD though and really hoping I won’t have to pity it since I also plan to gem the banner with Auron’s (from Final Fantasy X) LD. This banner is coming really soon and by soon, I mean a few days after the appearance of Garnet’s banner.

Whither Feelings (Intersecting Wills) Banner Multi-Draws Results

Anyway, here are the results of my gem pulls for Garnet’s LD:

My first multi-draw gave me my very first copy of Kam'lanaut’s 35cp. It’s new but meh. It’s not like I couldn’t have Tokened this. 

And without his LD, he’s basically useless. Not that I’d really bother using him even with his LD since, at the moment, he’s been horribly powercrept.

My second pull gave me Irvine’s 15cp and Garnet’s 15cp. Also meh. Wish I could at least get a gold orb or something. Sigh.

Welp, speaking of gold orbs - here’s one now. Pleased to see it. Now I can only hope Garnet’s LD will show up already so I can be done with this banner. 

Unfortunately, all I got was a dupe of Kam'lanaut’s 15cp and a dupe of his Ex. Bleh.

The next draw gave me 3 golds but they were all useless dupes with not even a single Ex among them - Garnet’s 35cp, Kam'lanaut’s 15cp, and Irvine’s 15cp. Garnet LD, doko da? Please show up soon.

My next multi-draw gave me a gold orb. Hoping for Garnet’s LD, of course, but didn’t really think it’d show up yet, considering all my crappy pulls so far. 

However, to my surprise and relief, this gold orb actually gave me her LD.

Hell, yes! So freaking pleased to see Garnet’s LD already. Really glad she came home and didn’t make me have to pity her.

This draw only gave me Garnet’s LD and nothing else but it’s fine. Still happy anyway since Garnet’s LD was all I really wanted on this banner. The other stuff was just a bonus.

And so, while it’s too bad I missed out on Kam'lanaut’s LD and the BT of the twins, it’s fine. Not gonna bother pulling anymore. Done with this banner.

Have exactly 100 G Tokens when Garnet’s LD showed up. Exchanged those for a Power Stone.

Garnet Til Alexandros XVII from Final Fantasy IX

Spent the Power Stones needed to max Garnet’s LD. Completed her LD Board. Bought her High Armor. Then spent the Book needed to get it to 0/3.

Equipped Garnet with Prishe’s (from Final Fantasy XI) RF A Sphere, Alphinaud Leveilleur’s (from Final Fantasy XIV) RF C Sphere, and Hope Estheim’s (from Final Fantasy XIII) RF D Sphere.

Conclusion

So, what about you? Did you pull on the Whither Feelings (Intersecting Wills) banner? What do you think about Garnet, Lann & Reynn, Irvine, and Kam’lanaut? Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions by leaving a comment below or by reblogging or replying to this post.

Notes:

screenshots are from my Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia game account

[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 !!

-

-

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 

[lollypopsx]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM8VBpbFn/

What about a drabble of what char did when Harry was on the bbc radio and stuff? Like maybe she was out Christmas shopping with her nana and then Harry met up with them or something?

Drabble Request

Drabble Masterlist

Video Reference

Singledadrry x Charleigh x Anne

——————

"Text me as soon as you’re with Nana ok?" Harry reminds Charleigh as she rolls her eyes softly. "Dad, chill! She just texted me and said she’ll be waiting outside the hotel before the car is even there. Am I getting the car to bring me back here when you’re done?” She asked, pulling her coat tightly around herself. 

Harry was due on BBC Radio 1 this afternoon, their studios were based in Great Portland Street in central London, and Anne was visiting for a few days before going back to Cheshire. She was down for a few events and meetings early December before coming to spend a few weeks with Harry and Charleigh over Christmas.

“I’ll give you a text or ring when I’m done and we will see where you girls are, alright?” He nods. “Be safe and phone me if you need anything ok! Love you!” He presses a kiss to her head gently. “Dad, I’m 17 and I earn my own money...I don’t need anything” She sighs softly with a smile. “Have fun! See you later, love you too!” She calls out as she climbs into the car.

As soon as the car pulled up outside Anne’s hotel, Charleigh could see her Nana’s excited smile. Charleigh squealed happily and hopped out of the car, flinging her arms around Anne.

“Hi Darling!” Anne grins happily. “Oh I’ve missed you!” She wraps her arms lovingly around her granddaughter.

“I’ve missed you too” She smiles happily. Anne was the motherly figure Charleigh needed. She didn’t really need anyone else.

“Come on lovie, let’s get shopping” Anne chuckles, as Charleigh quickly sent her Dad a text, including a selfie with her Nana.

Charleigh and Anne wandered into Harrods first, browsing every shelf, product and decoration before taking themselves into Selfridges, where Charleigh happily spent her money on some new makeup, as well as seeing the coolest pair of boots. “Nana, do you think Dad would like these for Christmas?”

She picked up a pair of black leather Gucci boots with a buckle round the front. “I think he’d love them sweetie” She smiles. “Did Dad give you money to spend?”

“No, I’ve been working alongside the management team, doing social media, and some companies have been doing paid sponsorships with me.” She smiles proudly. She was well aware that she only had those jobs and sponsorships because of who her dad was, but she really did try to work her hardest.

“That’s great! Now let’s go and get these and get a Starbuck alright?” Anne smiles.

Charleigh followed to the till, paying for her bits and then leaving Selfridges, heading into the Starbucks around the corner and joining the queue. 

“BBC Radio One...” The speaker sings. “Now before you go Harry, we need to do a Christmas cracker, and you’re going to tell the joke” Clara speaks into the mic. Harry chuckles as a pop of the cracker is sounded. Charleigh and Anne gave each other a quiet smirk as they listened to the speakers carefully.

“What do they sing at a snowman’s birthday party?...Freeze-a jolly good fellow” Harry grinned. Even though she couldn’t see her Dad, she knew him well enough to know there would be a wide grin plastered on his face.

Clara groaned softly “Shall we do another one?” She laughs.

“My daughter loves this one...what about...what does a monkey sing at Christmas time?...Jungle Bells”

Charleigh’s face dropped as she covered her eyes with her hand, feeling pure embarrassment engulf her. “Oh my god, he is so embarrassing” She groans as Anne chuckles, wrapping her arm tightly around Charleigh’s shoulders.

Once they had their drinks, Charleigh’s phone rang.

“’Ello darling!” Harry smiles into the phone.

“Hello to the most embarrassing human on the planet.” Charleigh muttered into the phone.

Harry chuckled deeply “Oh so you were listening! Thought you’d appreciate your favourite joke!”

“Dad it was my favourite when I was five!” She groans softly.

“Anyway, how’s the shopping going?”

“It’s good. We’re just getting a Starbucks and then I think we were going to go to Winter Wonderland maybe, if it’s not too busy. Are you finished?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you guys at Hyde Park and then maybe we can all find somewhere nice for dinner?” Harry suggested.

“Sound’s good, we will find somewhere to wait. See you soon”

“See you in 10, Cherry” He smiles and hangs up. It wasn’t long until Harry was spotted by Charleigh and Anne, wrapped up in a coat and scarf, with a hat and sunglasses.

“Hello Mum. How are you doing?” Harry grins, opening his arms wide. 

“Hello sweetie. I’m so happy to see you, how are you?” She grins, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m good! You look shopped out Char!” He chuckles, as they wander around the Christmassy stalls. Every stool was covered in ornaments, toys, candles, handcrafted gifts, foods and drinks. The sun was beginning to set and the colourful lights flickered around you, live music playing and festive cheer filing the air.

Christmas was always their favourite time, especially spending moments with their family.

——————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores -  @beachwood-cafe - @damnasstyles - @awesomebooklover17 - @hazgoldenstyles - @evanjh - @harrysbracelet - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @harryssweatcreaturee - @hibaiqbal12

[mikkomacko]

Ok thanks. What do you think about Stucky comforting reader for some reason?

A/n: Hiii. I hope this is ok! My first time writing stucky x reader but it was cool. I might just have to do an expanded Stucky fic 👀

~

It's well known throughout the Avengers that y/n is the kryptonite to every super soldier. At least she is to the two super soldiers they know, because only she can turn Steve and Bucky into overbearing boyfriends.

"Sam, do you have eyes on y/n and Nat?"

Steve grunts, kicking his attacker square in the chest and sending the man to the pavement. Bucky's follows closely behind, the former soldier slamming his own attacker into the ground so hard it cracks under his spine. Both lie there in a heap of sweat and blood.

"Sam?" Bucky asks angrily when they receive no response. Behind them, Wands and Tony shift through the rubble and debris of the two buildings that had been attacked, blown to pieces by the terrorist group in front of them. With civilian casualties high, y/n and Nat had taken up the job of evacuating everyone within the threatened area. But it's been too long since he's heard anything from the two through their comms.

"I've got sights on Nat but y/n is no where to be seen."

Another fly over from Sam, this time closer to the ground but still nothing certain on the missing Avenger. "I've got heat signatures in a damaged office building over here but I can't tell if it's her or not."

Steve and Bucky share a look, concerned for their girl as always, and begin heading over to the building.

"Romanoff you better fucking answer!" Bucky spits into his comms, boots crunching in the rubble under his feet.

A static breaks through, followed by the breathless voice of Natasha. "You're not the only one fighting terrorists Barnes," she bites back. "I cleared the west blocks, lost y/n when she went east. I'm guessing her comms are down."

"Was she evacuating the buildings?" Steve asks, approaching the block y/n is supposedly on.

"Think so. The one closest to you guys. She was worried it'd come down from the blast."

Steve and Bucky pick up the pace, relief flooding through them when a group of civilians rushes out of the building y/n was clearing.

"Is anyone still inside?" Steve asks them, while Bucky cranes his head up to look through the shattered windows. Before any of the survivors can answer, the building behind to rumble, the boom of an explosion going off cutting off whatever answer was being given.

Immediately shielding the civilians, Steve looks up in horror just in time to see the building split into two crumpled pieces, the top half collapsing into the building next to it.

~

There's a ringing in her ears, throbbing in her head and the taste of iron floods her mouth. Groaning, she lifts herself up enough to find that she's braced against a column, smoke and dust clouding her vision but she knows that something is off. The world around her has tilted, leaving the walls as the ground beneath her feet.

An explosion, she concludes, racking her brain for what she'd been doing when the bomb went off. A civilian, she remembers, the last one on the top floor, a young intern frozen in fear as battle rang out around him. Forgetting that she lost her comms in a fight earlier, she reaches for ear to call for backup. Instead, she's met with slick, warm blood and a tender skull.

Grey, the boy's name had been Grey. He'd told her during her attempt to guide him out from under his desk.

"I promise I can get you outta here Grey." She had sworn, and she intends to fulfill that. Unsteadily, she rides to her feet, balancing herself on the rubble around her.

"Grey?" She calls out, voice rough. "Grey if you're here I need a noise, a movement, something!"

She strains her eyes, searching through the mess of grey and charred black. Finally, a flash of ash ridden green, the color he'd been wearing. She watches as he rises to his knees, a gash on his forehead and blood dripping from his ears too.

Quick but careful, she makes her way through destroyed desks and crumpled walls until she's close enough to see how utterly screwed Grey is. A window. He's balanced on a cracked window, one surrounding by other empty window panes.

The boy trembles, helpless as his terrified eyes find hers. She burries her panic, doing her best to appear calm and confident.

"It's ok," she comforts, "I just need you stay very still ok? Let me come to you."

Grey nods, lip wavering in fear. Y/n takes a deep breath, hesitantly stepping onto the panel between two broken windows. When it holds her weight easily, she continues.

"Its breaking," Grey says weakly, peering down the splintering window at the street below them. Y/n doesn't get a good look, but she thinks she can make out two familiar men below. Steve and Bucky. Relief floods through her. They'll send Sam, she just needs to get Grey off that window.

"Don't look down," she instructs, "look at me. Keep your eyes on me."

He complies, tear filled eyes meeting hers again. It's a slow progress, checking the beams to find which ones she can walk on. She does her best to distract Grey, telling him of Sam and the boys below, how she knows they'll be up soon to help. Until then, he's gotta trust her.

"I do," he swears, "I trust you."

And there's relief when she gets a window away from him, prepared to quickly tug him to safety after she steadies her feet. But then the ripped half of the building is quivering, dropping a few feet down and the window is breaking before she gets enough time to grab him.

Panicked, she throws herself out of the window after him, left hand gripping the window pane while the right locks around his wrist. The pull in her shoulder is almost paralyzing as his weight comes to an abrupt stop. She's fairly certain it's dislocated or at the least something's torn, but the adrenaline in her veins keeps her grip strong.

"Y/n!"

Her feet dangle wildly, Grey squeezing her hand for dear life as he hangs 60 feet above ground. Steve and Bucky call out for her, something she doesn't quite pick up because she's too busy trying to calm Grey's hyperventilating body. He's wiggling, panicking, legs swinging in a frenzy like they're trying to find solid ground.

"Grey I need you to stop, if you keep moving I'll slip." As if proving her point, the sweat on her palm becomes slippery. He listens, for the most part, but he can't help the way his body quivers and shakes with cries.

"Sam's grounded!" Steve shouts from below, a panic in his voice she's not used to. "Hang on sweetheart, Stark is coming!"

She doesn't answer, can't answer because her muscles and tendons are screaming and burning, begging her to let go, and the fingers in Grey's hold have gone numb. A few more seconds, painfully long seconds, and the sound of the Iron Man suit floods her ears. Another brief moment of relief, one that also doesn't last because Grey has lost his grip and before she can even think of instructing to him to just hold on for one more second, she loses her grip on the boy and his scream overpowers Tony's thrusters as he falls to the pavement below.

~

Tony got her down safely. Caught her mid fall after she'd jumped after Grey in a weak attempt to save him. By the time her feet touch the ground, she's bolting, heading for the backside of the building where the body of the boy sits. The weak swing of her shoulder and the limp in her right leg slows her down, enough for Bucky to easily catch up to her and halt her. She fights his hold, desperate as he shushes and calms her.

Steve follows closely behind, assisting Bucky in taking care of their girl. Somehow, through a haze they get her to the Quinjet, both working on cleaning up her wounds during the painfully silent flight home. Y/n remains dazed and quiet as they take her to her bedroom, getting her in the shower, bandaged and dressed. Bucky is brushing out her wet hair on the edge of the bed while Steve fluffs the pillows when she finally speaks.

"I had him," she says, voice wavering. "I just needed a few more seconds. If I had held on-"

"Don't do that doll," Bucky interrupts sternly, pulling her into his lap. "don't think about the what ifs, you saved so many lives today. You did what you were supposed to."

She doesn't say anything but they know her well enough to know that she still doesn't believe them. Steve moves to sit next to them, wrapping one arm around her and one around Bucky.

"This job doesn't come without casualties sweetheart, we all know that. You stopped as many as you could and we're so proud of you for that."

His words bring her to tears, painful, heart cutting sobs that force both super soldiers to bite back their own tears. They hold her even tighter, soothing her with kisses and promises of making it better, of assuring her that it won't always hurt.

And once she's all cried out, puffy eyes and bones like cooked noodles, they tuck her into the middle of the bed, sandwiching her between their strong, warm bodies. Somewhere safe and comforting, where she can rest knowing they've got her and they won't be letting go anytime soon.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

The Perfect Life

Part Four

Summary- 4.1k Dark!Steve x You x Dark!Bucky. Steve is gone on a mission, leaving just You and Bucky. The situation is becoming easier to handle and that alone really bothers you. You shouldn't be feeling okay with either of these men. With only one watching you, your chances might be better this time to escape. 

Warnings- Non Con, Fingering, Smut, Violence. This is an 18+ Blog. 

Part Three

Bucky did just as he promised, he read until it was later in the evening, and then when he checked the time, he snapped the book shut and set it aside. The book snapping shut had surprised you, making you jump a bit and he shushed you with a kiss to your shoulder. “Easy Doll, It’s late and about time for us to eat.” 

You shifted to a stand so he could as well, now your stomach rumbled in protest, probing that he was right. It really was that time. In his pants pocket, Bucky dug out a phone. “While I'm making us something, how about you talk to Steve?” He opened with his thumb print and pulled up a screen. “I know he will want to say goodnight.” You bit your lip looking at the phone, and then masked your face when Bucky glanced at you, giving you a smile that seemed so genuine it went to the pit of your stomach. Just maybe, you could gain access to someone other than Steve and Bucky. The Police? FBI? They should be able to track cell phones and get you out of here. It was one of the few chances you could see where you would be able to escape. 

If only he would trust you to be alone with it. 

“Come sit at the table to chat with Steve while I make dinner.” He started to pull up a video chat and you couldn't help but feel the disappointment fall in your stomach. Bucky wouldn’t just leave you alone with the phone. Following him in, you settled in a seat and Bucky paused behind you, his heavy vibranium hand rubbing the back of your neck while waiting for Steve to answer. Your head tilted forward, letting yourself just relax under the wave of disappointment and frustration at being close to a way of communicating and yet unable to take hold of the moment. 

Steve’s voice rang out over the device and you shuddered enough for the vibranium finger to dig into the back of your neck in a warning. Straightening under his touch, you smiled softly into the phone, which Steve smiled back at you in a way a lover should, which made your stomach twist. 

“Ahh Babygirl, you look rested. What have you and Bucky been up to?” Bucky gave a wave over your shoulder before retreating towards the stove and the fridge, still within’ ear shot and started to pull things out to prepare. 

“Bucky had brought me a book, and we read together all afternoon till just now actually. Well, Bucky read to me since my throat hurt.” You swallowed a bit to emphasize and Steve actually looked ashamed from the night before. Seeing his shame, you felt a second of happiness at knowing that he actually felt shame for how he used you. Steve cleared his throat and asked you with sincerity, probably the first you could really remember. 

“Are you drinking tea and honey to help it? I can bring back some hard candy or cough drops.” 

“That would be nice Steve.” you nodded with a smile, and then the both of you started talking about the chapters you read. Steve asked engaging questions that you really had to think about answering, and all with genuine interest from him. During your conversation, Bucky started cussing while something sizzled on the stove. 

“Sounds like Bucky needs your help Babydoll.” Steve said and you had to chuckle, for the first time with him. It just slipped out in the easy going moment. “Fuck I love hearing that. If Tony doesn't have me out in the field all day I will call you tomorrow evening same time. Love you.” He didn't seem to expect you to answer it back because he hung up on you. You glanced over at Bucky and gasped when you saw the smoking pan, springing up from the table to grab a hand towel while Bucky held up the sizzling pan. 

“Watch out Y/N” his words hurried from him and you tossed the towel down on the counter for him to set it on, and you flicked off the stove to turn off the heat. The grilled cheeses he started were starting to smoke on the back burner and he was quick to flip them, one side charred. “Fuck, Doll. I'm not the best of cooks as you can tell.” 

You looked at the mess of the stove, and wiggled the tip of your nose. “Well I would say let's just order a pizza, but that isn't happening.” You attempt to joke, and reach for a cloth in the sink to wipe at the mess. “How about we make something together instead Bucky?” You offer, and open the fridge to see what is in there instead. Pulling out some fresh vegetables, and cheese. You spread them out on the counter while Bucky finished cleaning up the counter while you dug out a pot and saute pan. 

“Okay Doll, what would you like me to do?” He offered once he got it all cleaned up and his attempt at soup and sandwich ditched in the garbage can. 

“Drizzle some olive oil in the pan and I will start chopping vegetables.” You spread out the vegetables and reach for a knife to start chopping. Your fingers flexed around the handle for a moment, staring at the knife for a second. Holding your breath a moment, the fleeting thought crossed your mind that you could use the knife against Bucky, could possibly sink it into his back and make a run for it. Then amid these thoughts, Bucky's voice cut through. “Y/N? Doll what's next?” 

You jumped slightly to glance his way, and those thoughts escaped in a quick fleeting moment. Returning to chopping. “Umm, perhaps some pasta? Linguine if we have any.” Bucky went searching and you were quick with the vegetables to saute. 

“Hmmm, I know Steve bought some.” Searching through the cupboard till he found a box and showed it to you. Taking a look, you nodded. “Perfect.” You grabbed a wooden spoon to stir the sizzling veggies and Bucky started a pan of water on the stove to cook the pasta. 

You tossed in a dash of salt while the water was heating and Bucky stood to the side to watch you do your thing. So far one of them had always watched from the table while doing paperwork for the Avengers. But this time Bucky got to watch you up close while you cook. The way you would scan the cupboard beside the stove to find a certain spice, how you would pluck it down and open it to sniff, a dash of this, a dash of that. You would hum when you stirred the veggies and go to tip toes to peek at the pot in the back to see if it was boiling. Using the wooden spoon, you scooped out a piece of sauteed tomato and blew on it, side eying Bucky and holding it up for him to try. “Let me know what you think?” 

Bucky stepped forward and let his mouth open for you to drop the veggie in, and chewed slowly. Somehow for you, this moment was almost more intimate then all the times he's been with you, his touch reaching for your waist, allowing him to lead you in closer so that a hand pressed against his chest, some attempt to keep a small bit of space between you two. Since you weren't supposed to enjoy this intimate moment between you two, even though it felt as genuine as a date. 

“Tastes really good Doll.” You gave a smile, and eased back to the stove, stirring the vegetables. 

“Uh, you can go ahead and add the pasta.” you worked on distracting Bucky, which worked while he did just as you asked, and soon were adding the vegetables and pasta together, which he plated some for both of you. Bucky even made the effort by putting candles out, which you set the plates down, and both of you sat down. 

“This is really good Doll.” Bucky started and you took your own bite, smiling at the praise. You gave a shrug with a smile. 

“It's nothing, simple and easy. Especially with your help.” you returned the compliment best you could, and his hand reached over to grasp your knee, squeezing lightly. 

Dinner continued till you both were pushing your plates away, exclaiming ‘not another bite, I can’t.’ Surprising the whole dinner was fun for you, easy going. You could almost forget that this was a normal situation. 

Bucky seemed relaxed in this moment with you, praising your cooking with a swipe of his finger along his plate to stick the tip in his mouth. 

“So good, really Doll you are perfect.” 

That made you look down, pull at your fingers in your lap. It was all so easy to forget you were a hostage in these moments and you felt shamed with yourself that you temporarily let it slide and enjoy your time with Bucky, the whole afternoon in fact. You should be trying to get away again, the knowledge of that bubbling in your chest and settling like a stone in your gut. It must have all shown on your face when Bucky spoke up. 

“Y/N, what's wrong?”  

Your face screwed up hearing him. It was so sincere him asking what was wrong and that was what hurt the most about it. What was wrong? All of it, him and Steve forcing themselves on you and pretending that this was a perfect life, as well as you getting comfortable with it. 

Comfortable at being there hostage. How easily had you gone to your knees last night to make Steve happy so he wouldn't be mad at you? At the way you were right now making dinner with Bucky and enjoying an everyday meal with him? 

“All of this James, can't you see that?” You cried out suddenly at him with tears brimming your eyes and you shove yourself away from the table. Bucky's face went from concern to frustration, moving to a stand when you shoved the table. 

“I see nothing wrong at all. We are having a nice evening, a good dinner and we are connecting. I don't get it Doll.” He fisted a hand through his hair as he circled around the table and you backed up a few times, but he was quick to close in the space, his hands coming to grasp your upper arms to pin you between him and the counter. Your world narrowed to just the angry man in front of you, his hazel eyes snapping in frustration. “We gave you everything, a nice home, food, you no longer have to worry about anything. I know we have had a few moments, but haven’t we treated you good Doll.” 

Your hands fisted in his henley, trying to push him back but it was pointless. You were never going to be able to move him away, get away, none of it. He easily lifted you to perch on the counter, grasping your chin to look at him. “Answer me right now. Are we so awful to be with?” 

You tried wrenching your face away, but you gasped as his vibranium fingers bit into your cheeks and your jaw popped open a bit. “Y-yes Buck. I’m sorry, i'm so sorry I just want to go home.” 

He shoved his thumb to press against your tongue in your mouth to quiet you, his face melding from anger to almost a silent pleading despair. “Doll this is home, you got to accept this.” He stepped in closer, making your thighs spread and his other hand braced against your back to pull you to the edge of the counter so your legs circled around his waist, flush against him. 

Blinking back at him through watery tears, he loosened his thumb on your tongue and dragged it along your bottom lip before dropping his lips to chase the salty tears creating tracks down your face before filling your mouth. His taste was tinged with your sorrow and fear. 

He still thought this was okay, dragging you through this madness and you gave in once more, because why fight it? Right now you were helpless and it would happen regardless. Your hands flattened in his shirt and wrapped around the back of his neck, tilting your head to kiss deeper, fist your hand in his hair and tug slightly. He groaned against your lips and hurriedly worked your pants open to slip his hand in between your thighs, pressing his fingers into your heat to rub against your clit. 

“Isn't this better Doll?” He circled slowly, dragging his fingertips to pull across it and make you shudder, dropping your head to his shoulder while he dragged teeth against your neck, still a bit of despair in his tone. “We can treat you so well if you let us. It's all we want to do, love you, take care of you, give you children.” 

You turned your head away from him while you squeezed your eyes shut, too bad you weren't able to ignore his words. They dug in deep as his fingers were inside you, stroking fluttering velvet walls that couldn't deny what he was capable of doing to you. 

“See Sweetheart, you want this. You're just sucking me in and trying to hold me. It will always be like this with me, with Steve.” He pulled you up to a sit, the metal gears whirring as his hand circled your throat to squeeze lightly while he stroked your faster. Making you face him so he could watch your face slack and your eyelids flutter as you gasped out a whine, closer. So close, you were fighting it now because you didn’t want to want this feeling with him.

Bucky smirked as he squeezed a bit more. “Come on Doll, if you don't let me have it, I will take it. Either way I'm going to get what I want and that is for you to feel good.” It wasn’t hard for him to drag it out of you, maybe you just gave in, you weren't sure right now. “Thatta girl.” he praised with a kiss to your forehead as you cried out, pleasure making you lose your inhibition as you moaned out Bucky’s name, your hand clenching in his shirt to hold onto something.  

You felt him pull his fingers from you, clenching at the loss while you still were breathing through your orgasm. He worked your pants down till your ass was bare on the counter and you dragged his shirt over his head, your fingers trailing along his shoulder and along the crease of his metallic arm and skin where it melded together. “Did it hurt?” you ask and he shrugged. 

“Pain is simply a part of my life.” He said almost with no emotion, removing your shirt to drop it aside and cup your bare breasts, pulling lightly on your nipples, watching them pebble under his touch, smiling a bit at your reaction as your pulse picked up. “And you are my reward for a lifetime of pain Doll. Cause you make me so happy seeing you like this.” 

His mouth lowered to take over his fingers teasing your breasts, sucking and making your chest heave in a gasp, leaning back slightly to give him room while you arched, rubbing yourself against his pants, the rough fabric and zipper rubbing against your clit and Bucky was sure to rut his hips, bring out more of those mewls of yours till he was having to hold onto your hip while kissing across your chest and teasing you, trying to keep you still. 

“Tell me you want it Doll.” He lifted his head, his lips swollen from playing with you, and you grabbed at the back of his head to pull him forward, now kissing him desperately, hoping that was answer enough. 

Quick he was undoing his pants and stroking his throbbing cock. It wasn't even a slow stretch, he just pushed into you, inhaling the surprised squeal from you as he rutted himself deeper. “So good baby.” He muttered at your mouth with every demanding thrust. You grasped at his back while he drove himself deeper, sure to continue taking you apart. 

“I knew you would be perfect as soon as Steve showed you to me.” He grunted into your mouth, frantic now to drive you to an end and as he dragged himself through your pussy, held your body still for himself, you came again, crying out while scratching at his back and he pulled out, his cock slapping against his abdomen while yanking you off the counter and turning to bend you flat against the surface that was now slick from your arousal, sliding himself back into place. 

“Watching you run around that apartment in those cute little panties, and knowing all this was underneath them.” He palmed your ass cheeks, splitting them apart to see your weeping core made him groan. You let your forehead go to the cool counter top when he pressed himself back into you, this time pounding into you hard, his hand pressed against the back of your head to keep it in place, and other to holding your hip, pulling you back to meet him. The counter thumped with every hit he gave you, jerking you forward. 

“Bucky- Please!” you cried out, squelching loudly around his cock, as he grunted behind you. 

“I got you, just… fuck.” He groaned out and his hips were slapping sharply against you almost savagely when he finally let himself fill you, harsh thrusts pushed his cum to paint you, fill you till you were dripping around him and he sagged heavily against your back, hot breaths further flaming your sweaty skin. He stroked your hair back and kissed behind your ear while you muffled a sob of despair for yourself. 

“You are so damn pretty everytime you fall apart for us.” 

Fuck your life. You had to get away from them. 

It was late when Bucky finally brought the two of you to bed, he let you shower alone and get dressed in your sunflower yellow room while he did the same. Sure to have the light off and in bed when he came out with a towel loosely hanging over his shoulders and a pair of sweats hanging low on his hips, you were relieved when he just slipped in behind you. 

He kept them on, his intention was to fall asleep tonight. After earlier, the front of your hips and apex in your thighs was a bit tender, being slammed into over and over again. 

His arm loosely fell over you as he spooned behind you, nudging his groin against your ass so you could still feel him, and his chest to your back, mummering against your ear. “G’night Doll. Love you.” He nudged against you with his nose and you whispered it back, trying to make it convincing. 

You must have because he didn't push it further. Instead his breathing evened out and you waited, patiently listening. 

He was sound asleep. You shifted from his hold and sat at the end of the bed, waiting to see if he would waken. When he shifted to his stomach and hugged a pillow to him, you made your way to the bathroom, grabbing your clothes from earlier and tugging them on, you peek out once more to see Bucky still facing away from you. His shoulders rising and falling steadily asleep. 

This is it. There is just one of them here and for whatever reason Bucky didn't scare you as much as Steve did. But you don't fool yourself. 

He was just as dangerous as Steve was.

Quietly you crept out of the room, your socks keeping your footfalls quiet while going down the stairs and in the kitchen you grabbed the knife you had used earlier to chop vegetables. Going into the main area, you stuffed your feet in your sneakers and laced them up tight so you wouldn't lose them while sprinting across the field. As soon as you opened the door and stepped out, quick to shut it quietly, you bolted. 

Right off the porch steps and into the sunflowers, heading right for the forest just barely in sight. Who knows, maybe there was a road you couldn't see. You got a few steps when the house lit up and you heard Bucky holler your name. 

“Shit.” You panicked and started running blindly through the field, getting slapped with the giant flowers that were as tall as you were. They slowed you down, but you had no choice. Bucky would be easily able to follow your trail through the field. That knowledge just put on a burst of frightened speed, slapping the flowers away from you. 

Get beyond the field, hide in the woods. The thought screamed through your mind as the flowers started to thin out and you stumbled out the other side to crash into the pitch black tree line. 

You stumbled and fall against harsh tree trunks that cut at your face and tripped over roots that slammed you into the ground till you were scrambling back up, holding your hands in front of you to try to feel your way, ignoring the cuts and bruises you've given yourself, your fear making the adrenaline rush, your heart pound and shadows turned into menacing figures ready to grab you. 

“Doll get the fuck out here now.” You heard Bucky. But not the Bucky you knew, this sounded cold, menacing, a killer. Hearing him made you crash into another tree with a yelp, pushing off to get around it. “There's no use running.” You heard him coming closer. 

In your panic, all you could do was hide, anywhere. But the darkness was so overwhelming, not allowing you to find a place to go. You stood there, wildly panting while looking all around, your hand circling around the knife's handle when you spun around, raising the kitchen blade in front of you. “Stay back James.” Your eyes focused on the silhouette of your personal demon when your eyes finally focused on him. 

“This hurts Doll.” he hissed out as he came in closer, ignoring the blade you were threatening with, which you swung at him, catching him across his chest, but the pain of it didn't even seem to register. He easily caught your wrist, twisting it enough so a sharp pain in your wrist made you drop it to the forest floor, a cry escaping you. 

“Please don’t, you gave me no choice.” You sobbed as he pushed you back into a tree, his hand circling your throat and squeezing enough to choke the air from you. Rage filtered down at you, mixed with a version of his own pain at your actions. 

The irony of it, you hurt him by running away. If your heart wasn't about to slam from your chest, it would have made you giggle. Instead it bubbled up your throat as bile tasting fear. Your eyes matched his, rimming tears at the edge. 

“Gave you no choice?” He hissed out, his hand flexing with a whir of mechanics as his other hand trailed a couple knuckles along your cheek. “Doll you simply had to follow the rules and we would have taken care of you. Now you give me no choice.” 

You could feel the way his fingers thrummed against your neck, tightening slightly till you gasped out in a garbled plea. “James no… just let me go, please just let me go.” You dig in your heels into the soft ground and try twisting in his hold. It was impossible to break loose from him, no man should have this kind of strength. 

And you were stuck with two of them. 

Bucky carried you so effortlessly back through the field, following the trail you weaved earlier. When reaching the other end, you expected him to carry you back up the stairs and into the house. But he turned sharply, heading towards the barn. 

“No…” You whispered, tears springing back towards your eyes. “Please no, I will be good, I promise to be good.” you started pleading, instead of trying to break from his hold, you cling to him. “Whatever you want Bucky.” 

It didn’t stall him and the barns opened doors yawned open like a beast about to swallow you whole.

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 2. Manic Pixie Dream Bitch

A/N Make sure you read the prologue and other chapters first! Things are starting to pick up - I hope you stick around for the ride.

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 5374

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury, Domestic abuse mentions

The evening was cool, and a breeze hung in the air.

The midday Georgia heat had all but melted away, leaving behind tepid winds that rustled leaves on the trees — and the canvas tents. They fluttered around you as you walked, like the beating of butterfly wings, or ripples atop the ocean.

It was peaceful. It felt safe.

All eyes were on you as you followed Daryl to the firepit, taking a seat on a low log beside him — but not too close.

The night was still too young to turn in yet, so the man had begrudgingly led you out of his tent when the silence became stifling. For some reason, conversation didn't come as naturally to the two of you as it once had.

There was tension there. You could feel it.

But you didn't have the slightest clue why. The last time you had seen Dixon, it was in the midst of a tremendous thunderstorm. The two of you had laughed, and ran through the rain until your clothes were soaked through, and your skin was cold.

It was one of the best nights of your life.

Yet, here you were — sitting beside the man in stagnant silence as he kicked at coal embers with his boot, and pretended not to feel your stare seeping into the back of his head.

Across from you were the people you had briefly met earlier — the two officers by the names of Shane and Rick, or helicopter boy — the asian man named Glenn, and Carol who was sitting beside her husband. Their individual conversations were low, barely audible against the crackling fire, but one-by-one they seemed to filter off, until there was nothing but silence once again.

Shane stood up.

He stoked the fire a little with a branch, careful not to let the flames rise too high. "So, tell me," the man spoke, his voice wide and assertive,"how's a sweet young thing like yourself figure out how to fly a Sikorsky Hawk?"

His presence was big.

It made you shuffle in your seat as his eyes dragged down you, resting on your arm — which was bound by a sling. "Well, minus the landing part," he murmured below his breath.

You didn't like the way he smirked when he said that, like it had been amusing to him — funny to him that you'd almost died. Daryl let out a sound beside you, a low rumbling noise from the back of his throat that only you could hear. But you didn't bite to his words.

After all, men like that could only bark.

"I was in the military," you answered, meeting his eyes and not breaking the stare.

Your throat was still sore, but your words rang out clear, atop the thrum of the evening air, and flickering flames. Shane stuffed his hands in his pockets, and rocked back on the balls of his feet — as though he was putting on some type of show.

"Air force, then?" he questioned, but it was starting to feel more like an interrogation.

You caught the whites of Carol's eyes across from you, as they darted between the officer and yourself, and to her husband, then back to the other officer. She seemed as skittish as a person could possibly be — just watching, waiting, for something to happen.

You cleared your throat and forced a smile. "Training to be," you clarified.

For some reason, the exchange didn't feel like a conversation. The mood was too tense, too untrusting. It reminded you of the few minutes you'd spent alone with Dixon, back at his tent.

Something felt wrong.

Shane stalked around the firepit, his police boots crunching against the leafy bed, and kicking up dirt where he walked. He stopped directly in front of you, looming a shadow down onto you and Daryl — and making the other man scoff as he looked up.

"So not actually a pilot yet?" Shane smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your smile faltered, he was asking too many questions.

The other officer, Rick, took off his sheriff's hat and tracked his partner's movements with his eyes, as though anticipating something that hadn't happened yet. It made you feel a nervousness you were ashamed of.

You never did play well with men like Shane.

"And tell me this," he said, lowly, as he crouched down to your level, "why aren't you at Fort Benning?" He looked back over his shoulder, at Rick who was sitting stiff as a board, before cocking his head back to you."Or were you part of the group that showered Atlanta with napalm?"

The word hung heavy in the air — even though he had practically whispered it.

Your mind flickered back to the day it rained fire down upon the city, to the sounds of screams, and the charred remains you'd stumbled across on the occasions you wandered too close to the centre.

You shook your head immediately, feeling the pain shoot up your shoulder. "I had no part in that," you hissed — much more viciously than you anticipated.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you curled in on yourself. You didn't miss the way the man recoiled slightly from your face, and you'd even caught a fleeting glimpse of your reflection in the blacks of his irises.

You wore a look of pure disgust.

"I was discharged," you whispered, after taking a few moments to collect yourself. "Couple months before all this." You glanced to your right, to where the former mechanic was sitting — trying to pretend like he wasn't watching you. "Got sent to Georgia afterwards, which is where I met Daryl," you explained, noticing his eyes narrow at your words. "Briefly."

He looked away. He didn't seem to like that choice, either.

Shane stood back up, stretching out his knees, and then his neck. He rolled his head back in a circle, before glancing to and from you and Daryl with a smirk.

"Makes sense," he murmured, before turning on his heels to walk away, "dropouts tend to stick together, no?"

And for the second time today, Dixon went wild.

The tension finally snapped, like an elastic band having been stretched to its limit, and Daryl shot up to his feet, lunging for the man.

But you reached out for him at the same time, trying to grab his hand so that the night didn't end in the way you were almost certain it was going to end.

After all, you'd only seen Daryl go off once before — back in the old world — which had left an aftertaste of bloodstains over your bar, and maroon-tinted bruised knuckles that needed tending to well after your closing time.

But now he seemed even worse — more tightly wound than a coil beneath your boot, always ready to jump up and spring.

He was playing the part of a man far more angry than you had ever known him to be.

Although you still couldn't figure out why.

The ticking of the wall clock was stark against the silence. Joe's Bar had been cleared out more than an hour back, but the two of you remained — like ghosts haunting whiskey bottles and looming around the jukebox until it played a song you liked.

Dixon hissed as you tipped alcohol over his knuckles, watching as it seeped into the cuts and spread over his bruises like a clear film. They weren't that bad, really — only a purplish hue to them.

After all, you'd seen the other guy.

But you'd never seen Dixon get so riled up before. He'd always been a cocktail of shy glances and dumb wonder around you. That was until tonight at least, when a drunken customer slapped your ass at the bar, and the mechanic beat him bloody.

He'd probably seen how rattled it had made you, and how you looked ready to either snap or break.

"Ya don' have to do this," the man rasped, purposefully avoiding your eyes. "Save the vodka."

Your hand stilled over his knuckles, as you breathed in the strong, sharp scent which made your lungs burn. You laughed, pointing back over your shoulder at the shelves atop of shelves — stacked with an array of bottles, all different shapes and sizes.

"We've got plenty to spare, don't you worry," you hummed, before tipping more Smirnoff onto a cotton pad. "And you didn't have to do that, either," you chided, narrowing your eyes at a particular cut — which had already begun to crust over. "I could've handled him."

The mechanic scowled, glancing back over his shoulder to the place where it had all gone down — as though watching the scene play out once more in his mind.

He shook his head. "Ya could'a lost yer job."

"I'm used to that by now," you bit back, not once looking up from his bruise-splayed knuckles. "But Dixon," you cautioned, "don't go doing that again."

A car drove by outside, its headlights streaming in through the window and illuminating the dark husk of the bar — the pool tables that had been otherwise cloaked in shadows, and the expression of the man sitting opposite you, studying your every word.

"Joe might bar you next time," you whispered, screwing the lid back onto the bottle.

But Dixon only laughed.

"Barred from a bar?" he scoffed, stretching out his fingers to inspect your work, "he ain't gonna do tha'."

The stool squeaked as the man stood up, dusting off his jeans and retrieving his jacket. It was long past midnight, and you knew you'd be catching a ride back with him as he sped down the streets, reminding you to hold on tighter.

"What makes you so sure?" you teased, untying your apron and leaving it at the end of the counter.

Daryl held the door open, and fished around in his pockets for something that jingled — pulling it out to show you.

It was a set of car keys, with a tacky coke-bottle charm hanging from them.

"Still got his truck sittin' in the shop," he smirked.

The scuffle between Shane and Daryl was interrupted before blows could even be exchanged. Rick grabbed a hold of his partner, whilst you pulled the former mechanic back down to his firepit seat, trading places with him until you were face-to-face with the other asshole — a few inches shorter but a whole lot more pissed.

Daryl tried to stand back up again, but you flashed those eyes at him — the ones that made him immediately second guess the action.

"Sit down," you seethed, punching out each word as you spoke them.

And surprisingly, Dixon did as you said.

You weren't angry at him, exactly, but you didn't want him fighting your battles for you anymore — especially not whilst he had a chip on his shoulder more noticeable than the sling on yours.

Then you turned back to Shane, looking up at him as he stood with his chest almost flush to you, completely ignoring Rick's pleas behind him. He knew exactly what he was doing. That comment wasn't off-handed — he made sure you could hear it.

"I don't like you," you said lowly, not backing down from the glare he shot your way.

You didn't want things to turn out like this. There was nothing more you hated than making a scene.

Well, there was one thing, you thought.

You couldn't fucking stand men who abused their power.

"Don't have to like me, princess," Shane retorted, reaching out a hand in your direction. "I'm just here to keep you alive."

You smacked his palm away — as though it were a fly buzzing much too close — before he could make contact with your skin. And you saw red.

Daryl would have punched a man for less, if you'd so much as given him the right look. But this time, you shot a warning glance at him, telling him to stay put.

"Don't fucking touch me," you whispered, but your words held more weight than if you'd screamed them — and Shane retracted his hand. "I can take care of myself."

Except, he made a point of letting his eyes drag over your injuries, lingering on the makeshift sling, before settling on your stomach — as though he could see your stitches underneath the material of Daryl's shirt.

"Clearly," he remarked, before turning on his heels once again.

Nobody stopped him this time — not even Rick — as he stalked around the fire, and into the night. You caught a glimpse of his metal dog tags as he did, glinting off the light of the flame and jumping around his neck with every step he took. You thought it was ironic for him to even wear them.

Or maybe not.

After all, he seemed the same as every other military man you'd encountered — a goddamn animal.

"Make sure you take care of your manic pixie dream bitch," he yelled, probably directed at Dixon. "Wouldn't want anymore helicopters fallin' from the damn sky."

And so Shane disappeared into his tent — into the shadows you couldn't quite make out — and Daryl stood up straight after, heading in the opposite direction. The remaining group was uneasy, tentative almost, as they watched your head whip back and forth between them and the mechanic as he left.

Dixon stalked away into the brush, despite the shouts and warnings not to stray too far from the campsite.

And you followed him.

With each step further from the flickering flames of the bonfires, it became harder to navigate the night. Your injuries had slowed you down, and you flinched every time a twig snapped, or leaves rustled near your ear. You didn't even have a weapon anymore — since it had burnt up with the rest of your gear in the crash.

But it didn't take you long to track down Dixon. After all, his smoke trail gave him away.

He was sitting on a grassy bank, over facing the quarry waters. There was a full moon out, and you could now see it peering above the tops of the trees — ghostly white against the stark, black sky. And cigarette smoke swirled around it, leading back down to the shadowy figure on the ground, legs tucked up to his chest as he breathed deeply.

You approached, wincing as your shoulder caught on a low-hanging branch.

"Yer gonna bust ya stitches messin' 'round like tha'," Dixon spoke, not even turning around to confirm it was you. But still, he outstretched a hand, helping you sit down beside him.

The moonlight was beautiful. It drizzled over the treetops in the distance, and the spindly branches that reached up to the sky. It even reflected off Daryl's skin as you glanced at him in the corner of your eye — watching as the smoke poured out from his lips and settled in the air.

You tucked yourself into his side just a little, missing the heavy feeling of your jacket which smelt like him — and was almost just as warm. Part of you expected him to shrug you off, or make some remark in-keeping with how withdrawn he'd been throughout the day.

But, he didn't.

He let you sit beside him, as he blocked you from the breeze — as though you weren't the one person who would be used to it.

"Got a spare?" you asked, eyeing his packet of cigarettes.

Dixon hesitated for a second, before placing them down in the space between you. "Thought ya didn't smoke," he replied.

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't."

In truth, you'd only recently taken up the habit — smoking much too scarcely to even call it a habit, really. It had all started when you'd stumbled across a rundown convenience store, and looted a packet of cigarettes without thinking — just because they were the brand that Dixon smoked.

The first time you lit one, you'd cried. They smelt like him.

They'd smelt like your only friend, and reminded you of just how lonely the end of the world was. So, you started to smoke — only when you missed him — and you continued because, even though he was now sitting beside you, for some reason you still felt empty.

Neither of you said anything after that, but you could hear his thoughts — those questions he wanted to ask but didn't. After all, he'd voiced them once before, back before the world ended. Except, it was you who wasn't willing to answer.

"What'd ya do tha' got yer ass sent here?" Dixon asked, one day whilst you were hanging around at the auto-shop, watching him scrub down that Honda bike. "Y'know, locked away in rural Georgia."

You laughed at his words, taking a swig from the ice cold cola you'd skimmed from Dean's fridge.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I was training to be a helicopter pilot," you admitted into the air, answering that question truthfully for the first time.

But he'd already guessed — after the day you'd both had.

"Why didn't it work out?" Daryl mumbled, the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke the words.

You watched as the smoke formed white clouds against the black night, before finally reaching for the packet yourself.

"Fear of heights," you told the man, letting out a breathy chuckle that blew out the lighter's flame.

It was a lie, but the truth was much more bleak.

Though, perhaps that was what nights like this were for. Out here, there was no one else to hear you speak your thoughts, or even see the two silhouettes sitting in the dark. Maybe you could even start trusting the man called Daryl Dixon, since he'd done nothing but pick you up and set you back onto your feet ever since you fell from the sky — and even some time before that.

"No matter how long I would fly for, I always had to land at some point," you explained, though it didn't really sound like much of an explanation. "But the people on the ground made me wish that I never had."

Daryl met your eyes, and in that moment you swore you saw a glimpse of that former mechanic — the one who was street smart but still clueless to people.

"That was until I met a man at a garage who promised to show me the world on his bike," you smiled, before letting the smoke trail from your lips, "but we ended up watching the stars instead."

Dixon didn't smile back.

And somehow, the smoke on your lips tasted more familiar — felt more like Daryl — than the man sitting beside you.

"Ya can take the tent tonight," he mumbled, snuffing his cigarette butt out on the grass.

You pulled a face, but he didn't retrieve it like he normally would — he probably thought there was nothing left in the world worth preserving anymore.

"And what about you?" you asked, making an expression he couldn't even see. "You should rest up before tomorrow."

But the man shook his head in the dark, pushing back on his knuckles to stand up — and offering you his hand once more.

"I ain't none of yer concern," he dismissed, whilst his palm was still warm in yours, "'m gonna sleep out under the stars."

The stars were bright overhead, with no light pollution, or mysterious blinking flickers that could have been mistaken for planes of satellites. But somehow, you didn't fully believe his story.

You laughed, but it wasn't the warm kind. It was the kind that felt foreign on your tongue, because it was a far cry from the fits of giggles the man normally had you in.

"Well, enjoy the view," you replied, shortly.

But you failed to notice the way Dixon watched you the entirety of the way back to camp — as though he already was.

Once Daryl had walked you there, and left you at the tent doorway, he did indeed roll out an old blanket over the grass, to lay back underneath the stars — just as promised.

He was far enough away that he didn't feel like you were right beside him, but still close enough to make out your silhouette against the lamp-lit canvas walls of his tent. That way, he didn't have to worry about walkers — but he didn't have to worry about you, either.

The night was quiet. The full, bright moon beamed down on him like a streetlight and the stars blinked in the sky like peering sets of eyes — staring back at him whilst he looked up. Daryl sighed, and crumpled his packet of cigarettes in his fist, crushing any left inside.

He needed to stop smoking them, because now they'd become tainted by you — and had become another thing that inescapably reminded him of you.

The lingering scent of them on his fingertips alone made him remember just how intoxicating you were. It made Daryl feel like he'd gotten a high from the scent of unbottled moonshine, or from that smile of pure starlight which could make a man go blind.

Though, he'd only had the pleasure of seeing it once today. The rest of the time you'd been pissed, confused, hurt.

He'd probably caused a lot of that — he wasn't that oblivious.

But you were the type who could break his heart without even knowing, and then offer to mend it like it had been someone else who'd done the damage.

He didn't understand how you could act so nonchalant, so blasé, as though you hadn't nearly died, and as though you hadn't just come back from the dead — where Daryl had thought you'd been this entire time.

He laughed, and it almost sounded as cold as the one you'd directed at him earlier.

Merle always called him naive, but Daryl often overcompensated for the fact with blind curses and bruised knuckles from butting heads those who suspected him of being as much.

But it had been the truth.

He was naive — especially when it came to you.

But, Daryl was also angry and hurt. And he didn't know how to fix that without bruising his knuckles — or his ego.

He bit his lip, wetting away the dryness with his tongue, whilst trying not to focus on how dry his throat felt, too. Then, Daryl rested his arm over his eyes.

He didn't feel like watching the stars anymore.

When you awoke, light had filtered into the tent through the mesh netting, speckling over your face like glittering gold as you blinked.

But when you awoke, the man was gone — leaving only another shirt behind in his place.

It almost made you cry, because of how familiar it felt. It smelled like Joe's Bar, of Marlboro cigarettes, of Georgia, and of home.

But you couldn't cry; you hadn't done since the day everything fell apart. So instead, you pulled on your big-girl shirt — the one belonging to the man twice the size of you — and grit your teeth as you threaded your bruised arm through the sleeve, and caught your stitches on the buttons.

You spent the whole morning trying not to notice the glaringly obvious absence in the camp — the men who'd left in search of Merle Dixon. But at the same time, you grimaced at the sight of the ones who hadn't left, the ones like Shane, and Carol's husband — who leered at the women as they washed his fucking underwear.

"Carol, why don't you ask Ed to come and help us," Andrea remarked, glancing towards the man resting languidly by his jeep, "make himself useful instead of just standing there smoking cigarettes."

Beside you, Jacqui laughed a high-pitched laugh, as she wrung out another damp t-shirt in her fists. You had only been formally introduced to her this morning, but her smile was infectious — and for a minute, it made you forget about the anxiety deep in the pits of your stomach.

Carol was quiet, but eventually chirped up once she mustered enough confidence.

"If I knew how to get him to do that, I would have done it years ago," she muttered, and shyly rolled her eyes.

Andrea boomed out a laugh, whilst the others chimed in at the appearance of Carol's unexpected humour. You tried not to let the chuckle wrack up your body, since every slight movement sent shockwaves to your injuries. But at this moment, you didn't really mind.

Carol had a pretty smile, and an even nicer laugh.

Except, her husband didn't seem to think so.

He stalked over with the same bravado Shane had mastered the night before — probably taking inspiration from the other man who wore boots three times his size. You could make out the sneer on his face before he even got within a few steps of you all. It was just that deep.

The man flicked his cigarette in your direction, and it barely missed the toe of your boot.

"What's so funny, hmm?" he jeered, but his tone was anything but light. You didn't have to hear them twice to recognise those words as a threat. "Gotta be somethin' if it's got you ladies so distracted."

Each of the women stayed silent as a grave — as though in some secret pact Ed was unaware of. He sauntered around, weaving in between Jacqui and Andrea, until the latter eventually snapped.

"Is it really any of your business?" she remarked, frustration clear in her voice. "After all, we're the ones doing your laundry."

She thrust the damp clothes she was holding at the man's chest, before letting them fall to the floor. The moment you heard them hit the ground, your hands were already shaking with adrenaline. You knew that look — the one Ed wore — and nothing good ever came from it.

He stepped up to Andrea, his pride damper than the shirt at his feet. "Know your place, little bitch," he hissed, shoving her back with his shoulder.

And chaos broke out.

Jacqui's screams sounded very much like her high-pitched laughs had done, and Lori called for Shane like a broken record that only knew a single name. You wanted to get everyone to calm down. You wanted to diffuse the situation like how you'd been trained to do.

But all you saw was red.

Carol interjected, lacing herself around her husband's arm as she begged for him to stop. "Ed, please don't-"

The man backhanded his wife, sending her to the ground with a single strike.

And that was your queue.

You rushed over, feeling your feet sink into the pebbles deeply with each step. You had a dozen stitches in your stomach, but you would rather pop every damn one open than let him get away with that.

"You dare lay your hands on her?" you roared, approaching the man — the monster — from behind as he loomed over Carol like a shadow of cowardice.

Ed reacted out of instinct, flailing his arm backwards and hitting you across the jaw with his elbow as you tried to pull him away. Immediately, your mouth pooled with the taste of copper, and you spit it out onto the pebbled stones beneath your feet.

You looked over at Andrea, who was dumbstruck as she watched blood drizzle from your lip, before you wiped it away by the sleeve of Daryl's shirt — with your one good arm.

"Get Carol out of here," you said, so quiet that it might as well have been a whisper.

You looked at the man, sizing him up as he stared you down.

"She isn't gonna want to see this."

The evening sunset was a vibrant salmon, tinged with deeper, darker hues the further you got from the sun. Those parts of the sky were the same maroon colour as your jaw — you'd caught glimpses of it in Andrea's compact mirror.

You'd spent the latter part of the day avoiding Shane's lectures, and the women who meant well but fussed over you far too much. So, you retreated back to Dixon's tent — icing the ripe bruise on your chin with a pack from Dale's RV cooler.

The scent of Marlboro cigarettes lingered around you — faint but still present in the fibers of the blankets beneath you, and in your shirt which was now bloodstained. You tried to ignore the pull of it, not wanting to smoke.

The tent puckered as someone fumbled with it, and soon the entrance flap was unzipped — revealing Carol, who timidly ducked inside.

"We meet again," you greeted her, thinking back to how she'd tended to your wounds in this very spot, not even a full day before. "I was going to apologise for beating your husband into the ground, but I couldn't bring myself to say that I'm sorry."

You grimaced as the words left your mouth. They sounded a lot more sharp than you'd intended.

But she still smiled warmly at you, a smile that you didn't think you deserved, and shook her head. The woman sat down on her knees opposite you, coaxing the ice-pack away from your skin for a second to inspect the damage.

"I don't blame you," she said, as gentle as her touch. She smelt like citrus, and summer days as her palm ghosted over your face. "I came to thank you, actually. For being the first to stand up for me."

Your gaze dropped down to where her sleeves had risen up, revealing the yellowish bruises dotted over her arms — in the shape of fingerprints.

"Well, someone had to," you noted, sadly.

She caught the way your eyes lingered, and quickly adjusted her shirt, pulling it back down to her wrists.

"Was it really that obvious?" she chuckled, nervously.

But you felt like she already knew the answer.

Her stance was practiced, even sitting down. She wasn't at all relaxed, hovering on her knees like a small rabbit, ready to dart to safety at a moment's notice. You felt like you were looking into a mirror — one that only reflected the past.

You nodded. "When you know the signs, it is," you admitted, sitting back against Dixon's pillow. "I had my suspicions before."

She hummed in return, acting much more casually around you than she had done a mere moment before. "What gave it away?" she asked — curious more than anything.

Light streamed in through the little plastic windows on the tent, falling in a stream between you — warm against your lap.

"Your hair, for one thing," you confessed, gesturing with your free hand. "You shave it yourself? To stop him grabbing it during fights?"

She remained silent at the accusation, but her eyes gave her entirely away.

You nodded. "They always tend to stoop that low."

And Carol bit her lip in response, not pointing out how you'd done the same with your braids — keeping them tight to your scalp, not even a strand out of place.

She excused herself then, making some remark about how she best ought to go check on her husband, before letting you catch a glimpse of the brave scowl which made its way onto her face as she said it. The sun hung high in the sky as she ducked back out, almost as bright as that full moon had been the night before.

"Hey, Carol," you said, loud enough for her to still hear it, "if he gives you trouble again, don't hesitate to come find me."

The woman nodded once more, and waved you off.

"Just you wait until my good arm heals," you called after her. "My right hook's even better than my left."

Then, you winked — watching as she debated letting out the laugh she had stifled — as you recalled the actual reason that got you hauled off to Georgia in the first place.

Dishonourable discharge, my ass.

Feedback is always welcomed; I love hearing what you all think - so feel free to comment, send in an ask, or just message me if you want to chat!

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A/N Things are picking up here! How are we feeling? We all doing good? I promise this series won’t be really angsty, so stick with me, my dears :)

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[the-nysh]

Which female characters in one punch man are your favorite and why?

The selection is limited, but I've definitely noticed & appreciated the extra effort ONE's put into writing his female characters lately - both in adding more variety with his newer designs (including the wc) and working on fleshing out + humanizing the established ones he already has. All of that is a great plus. (Cause too often in fiction, female chars generally tend to fall flat when they're portrayed as distant or cookie-cutter 'idealized images' of what the -often male- writers perceive them to be, rather than allowing them to actually be relatable flawed people who have the same organic range of aspirations, interpersonal problems, and emotional depth as the males.) Ahem, so I'll admit that early on, none of opm's few women (when we literally only had 2) struck my fancy on what I find appealing/relatable in a character. But that has been steadily changing as ONE's acknowledged where he felt his writing's been lacking and has deliberately chosen to put more work & observation into developing them (ie ever since challenging himself to write Tome as the pov char in REIGEN, I've seen much stronger results even in opm), which I'm very grateful for!

So I'd say the one who's benefited the most from ONE's extra attention so far has been manga Tatsumaki. Whom I can like so much more now compared to her (cold, distant, antagonistic) wc counterpart. Mainly because we've been able to see the full context behind her motivations and what personally drives her feelings, allowing us to sympathize with her dilemma from her perspective. (My favorite panel sequence of injured Tatsu walking away from Fubuki is deliciously bittersweet capturing that sense of familial fondness and sad resignation. Much pain, much angst.) We can feel the extent of how much she takes upon herself (and know why she does so) as both a hero & sister to fiercely protect with a type of love & duty that is both simultaneously noble yet also harmful to herself & others. Like a double-edged sword. Oh how fascinatingly (and tragically) lovely. :') She also gains the Garou parallels in spades (for more flavor) and has been carrying the current arc hard with her specialized abilities. Demonstrating precisely why she's the awesome, active pinnacle of S Class without Blast. Very impressive. Her gremlin form is that extra entertaining cherry on top too. Overall, when it comes to one of opm’s most well-rounded, fully-realized female characters, who’s only gained more enjoyment & appreciation from me over time, I think manga Tatsumaki currently wins this.

...But this could still change! Because I’ve been very proud of wc Fubuki‘s growth already, that I’m still eagerly waiting to witness manga Fubuki gain her equivalent screentime to shine just like Tatsumaki has. (She’s getting very close now, perhaps once she confronts Psykos again.) So at the moment, I still prefer wc Fubuki a little more over her manga counterpart (also the way Murata draws/portrays her as his idealized woman often doesn’t speak/appeal to me when it borders on the unreal. Early Fubuki I also found unrelatable...and fyi even my mother disapproved of her early mindset too.) But it’s in the moments where Fubuki asserts herself vs her sister to grow into a stronger person/hero is what I'm most looking forward to see. Cause we’ve already begun to see shades of that as she improves & steps into her role as a caring -not domineering, and worthy, supportive leader:

That’a girl! :’) But speaking of more good girls, I very much like what we’ve seen from wc Suiko. Who, as one of ONE’s newest creations, probably feels the most ‘real’ to me as a female character in a naturally relatable way. Very good! I enjoy how she’s allowed to be ambitious, disciplined in her craft, prideful & spunky in attitude, yet also feels indignant when others don’t take her worth -compared to her brother- seriously (whoaa how many girls can relate to that), as she introduces a new type of martial arts we hadn’t seen before (drunken fist technique, so she has the potential to claim her fighting niche), and still understandably cries in frustration when she gets in over her head. :’) That, plus the way she still cares for her brother Suiryu, yet challenges & teases him with classic sibling banter is a delight. All this makes for a very refreshing package of a character already, which I can’t wait to see more of (heck, even Murata’s manga couldn’t wait to squeeze in an early cameo of her!)

Runner ups would probably be wc Webigaza and manga Mizuki, who again are great for bringing the extra variety to opm's heroine roster, but I'd love to see more content from them as well. (Which I'm guessing will be more imminent with Webigaza given her relevance tied to the cyborg plot.) Because the more ONE writes them (and of his female chars in general), the better they’ll get~

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy! 

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off. 

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment. 

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm. 

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it. 

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly. 

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times. 

But now… 

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head. 

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling. 

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it. 

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought. 

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day. 

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands. 

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty. 

Why, he had no idea. 

But he did know one thing. 

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation. 

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places. 

Then there was the blood. 

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it. 

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured. 

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood. 

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be. 

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce. 

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth. 

And maybe he could coax you into a deal. 

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield. 

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company. 

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time. 

But first, he had to find you. 

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door. 

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down. 

“Bakubroooooooo!” 

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning. 

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent. 

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door. 

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock. 

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo. 

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?” 

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.” 

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.” 

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long? 

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?” 

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar. 

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.” 

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving. 

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?” 

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet. 

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.” 

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.” 

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple. 

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.” 

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily. 

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll. 

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned. 

Except now the consequences were catching up to him. 

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now. 

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead. 

“How bad?” he finally asked. 

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago. 

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.” 

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.” 

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency… 

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.” 

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?” 

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?” 

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face. 

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.” 

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.” 

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about? 

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink. 

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.” 

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason. 

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.” 

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?” 

“The girl?” 

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed. 

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him. 

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.” 

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction. 

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply. 

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again. 

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.” 

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked. 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.” 

“Well… we should go get it from her.” 

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack. 

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.” 

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.” 

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly. 

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.” 

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.” 

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest. 

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.” 

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom. 

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him. 

Bakugo slammed the door in response. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.” 

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.” 

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.” 

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!” 

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed. 

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused. 

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.” 

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl. 

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.” 

The excuse felt flat, even to him. 

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.” 

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest. 

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!” 

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?” 

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit. 

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you. 

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.” 

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner. 

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises. 

Until now. 

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.” 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up. 

“Take the next left up ahead.” 

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions. 

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to. 

And he’d have a healer just down the hall. 

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him. 

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?” 

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto. 

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.” 

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids. 

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond. 

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima. 

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him. 

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts. 

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea. 

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses. 

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash. 

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him. 

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.” 

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door. 

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?” 

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store. 

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?” 

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—” 

That was good enough for Bakugo. 

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed. 

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there. 

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured. 

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs. 

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other. 

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause. 

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable. 

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying. 

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s. 

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face. 

Why were you afraid of him? 

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—” 

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—” 

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him. 

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying. 

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you. 

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands. 

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise. 

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside. 

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.” 

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor. 

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too. 

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk? 

He needed to get you alone and get answers. 

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag. 

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them. 

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.” 

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.” 

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you. 

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions. 

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima. 

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.” 

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?” 

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.” 

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!” 

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt. 

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut. 

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic. 

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.” 

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—” 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—” 

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—” 

Fucking hell, this was taking too long. 

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.” 

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?” 

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes. 

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears. 

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?” 

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline. 

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.” 

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?” 

“Could you leave?” 

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort. 

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?” 

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?” 

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.” 

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.” 

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.” 

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter. 

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response. 

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.” 

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous? 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.” 

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.” 

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there. 

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. 

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.” 

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again. 

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl. 

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.” 

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.” 

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—” 

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?” 

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you. 

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—” 

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?” 

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.” 

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood. 

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.” 

“Great. See you then.” 

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake. 

But that didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

[ray-ray-writings]

Totem Troubles-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x fem!reader in the dreamsmp. In this, the way that some of the Minecraft lore, so to speak, is wrong. For example, I know a poison potion won’t kill you but will only take you down to half a heart. For the sake of the story I had to change some things to make it flow. I hope you enjoy!

Check out my masterlist here!

Gathering materials was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to end in an almost cannon death.

Y/N’s POV

It was simple. I needed wood and Techno needed cobblestone. We decided to go out together and gather what we each needed. There was a small stone mountain next to a big patch of trees. We could gather what we needed and be within earshot of one another at all times. So we went to sleep and when we woke the next morning, we set out. The place we were going was only about 60 blocks away from our home. Far enough it didn’t damage our ‘view’ so to speak but close enough we could easily run home if need be. It was simple… Well it was supposed to be.

I gave Techno a quick kiss before turning to the tree in front of me. “Be careful,” Techno warned, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, before walking toward his stoney mountain. “You too,” I called in response, taking out my netherite axe and getting to work chopping down the amount of trees I needed. 

Maybe I was too focused on my work, maybe I was too focused listening for Techno, maybe it was because it was daytime. Either way, I didn’t notice it. I didn’t notice the footsteps and the sizzle. I couldn’t hear the laughter a few blocks away drawing nearer. Sucks I had to find out this way. 

As I raised my axe to chop some more wood, a huge force hit my back. A creeper exploded, propelling me forward a few blocks, causing me to drop my axe and land on my stomach. A scream escaped my throat as white hot pain coated my back. “Y/N!” I heard Techno scream through the ringing of my ears. Laughter rang throughout my ears as well. I slowly eased myself up, looking to find a witch standing above me, splash potion at the ready. “Please, no,” I whimpered, knowing it wouldn’t have any effect. Mobs were mindless drones, their only thoughts to hurt the people that lived on the server. 

Glass shattered onto my back and green swirls surrounded me, immediately making me feel sick. Another glass shattered on my back, this one purple. I felt awful. I felt sick and I couldn’t bear to hold myself up anymore. I collapsed back to the ground, completely at mercy to the witch. The laughter rang once more through my ears as darkness completely clouded my vision. “Techno,” I murmured once more, praying he would hear me. Wherever he was. 

*POV Switch*

Technoblade’s POV

It was supposed to be simple. Leave the house, gather materials with Y/N, go back to the house. Of course nothing in my life can ever be that simple. 

An explosion set a small flurry of panic through me, but what truly caused my blood to run cold was her blood curdling scream. “Y/N!” I screamed out, hoping she would be alright. I dropped my pickaxe and unsheathed my sword and shield. I raced out of the small cave I had dug while retrieving cobble and found my girlfriend lying prone in front of a witch. “Fuck!” I cursed to myself, pushing myself even harder to get to my lover. 

The witch raised up a splash potion, but I quickly dove my sword into its side, causing it’s attention to shift. I raised my shield as the splash potion was thrown on me causing it to bounce back and hit the witch instead. Pulling my sword from the witches' side, I stabbed at the mob once again, this time hitting directly in the chest causing the mob to parish. 

Quickly I threw my sword and shield into my inventory and rushed back over to Y/N. Purple and Green swirls surrounded them as they lay face down on the ground. Blood was seeping out of their shirt from the back and I silently cursed myself for not making her put armor on. I checked her left arm and almost fainted at the sight. Her hearts, the ones that showed how much health she was at, were green and were being depleted with no signs of stopping. “Fuck,” I cursed, throwing open my inventory to search for the one thing I knew would for sure save her. “Where is it?” 

After a few seconds of struggle, I finally found it. The golden totem I had secured just a few days prior. Ripping it from my inventory, I dropped to the ground and shoved the totem into Y/N’s hand, forcing her fingers to wrap around it securely. I didn’t even have time to relax. A huge pop sounded and the totem disappeared. The swirls disappeared from my love’s body and three of their hearts came back, no longer green from poison, as well as an additional two golden hearts as an extra cushion. 

I felt myself let out a breath. She’s safe now. She’s going to be alright. “Y/N?” I questioned gently, moving to look at her face. Nothing. “Y/N?” I tried again, gently reaching out to touch their shoulder. Again, nothing. The movement she made was her chest up and down to show she was still breathing. Panic began to flood my senses once more, why isn’t she awake? The totem worked, didn’t it. Why isn’t she responding. Looking at her arm once more calmed me down only slightly. Her hearts were stable, so why aren’t her eyes open?

Gently, I rolled Y/N onto her side, allowing the glass to fall off of her back and onto the snow before standing up and gingerly lifting her off the snow, bridle style. I was extremely careful to not touch the parts of her that were still healing as I made my way back to the house as fast and safe as I could. 

Once inside, I took Y/N into our shared bedroom and laid her down on her stomach. Pulling off her shirt, I winced at the sight of her back. Burns and cuts littered her back, blood oozing from many of the open wounds. I noticed that there were still little shards of glass poking into her skin. I forced myself to be completely calm. Although I was still in a bit of a panic because she wasn’t waking up, Y/N needs me right now to take care of her and her wounds and that’s what I was going to do. 

The first aid kit we kept in the bathroom was well stocked. My eyes danced over the materials with fondness in my heart. Y/N had made this kit when we first got together. They hated seeing me hurt but knew I had little to no care for myself and my injuries. So they brought over this kit and would always be the one to sit me down after a battle or a long time away from one another and would take the time to tend to all of my injuries, no matter how small. It’s a little hard to swallow that it is now my turn to tend to Y/N’s wounds. 

I retreated back to the bedroom, kit in one hand, a damp rag in the other. I set everything I needed on the bed and began working. I grabbed the tweezers and carefully plucked the remaining shards of glass from Y/N’s back, throwing the glass into a nearby trash can, making a mental note to take it out later. Once I was sure all the glass was gone, I used the damp cloth, to gingerly wipe down Y/N’s back, cleaning the blood, sweat, and grime from their slightly charred back. Next came bandages, one for every cut, no matter how little. Because then came the burn cream and I didn’t want it to get in any of the cuts. Gently, I applied the cream to my fingertips and slowly began massaging the cooling cream into my lover’s back. It was almost calming taking care of my lover in this way… Almost

Once I was finished, I took the kit back to the bathroom and put it away before washing my hands and then splashing some of the cooling water on my face, hoping to calm myself down even further. It didn’t work. 

The totem prevented them from dying. From losing a cannon life. They should have woken up once the totem popped. It is designed to get rid of all affects and give you hearts, golden hearts at that. It confuses me to no end as to why the effects worked on Y/N but didn’t wake her up… What if she never wakes up? What if the totem glitched? What if it gave her hearts but she lost all of hers before that happened? What if I was too late? 

Thoughts swirling in my head, I stormed out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Y/N still lay on her stomach, back rising and falling, but eyes remaining shut. Tears pricked in my eyes as the last question danced round and round in my head. What if I was too late. 

I began pacing at the end of the bed, thinking. Who could I go to for help? Almost the entire server either hates me or fears me… Philza wouldn’t be much help, as much as I love him, he can be kind of daft about these things. Dream is a possibility… But I don’t want to owe him. God, why! Why did it have to be her? Why couldn’t it have been me? I wish it would have been me. I would do anything for me to be in her place right now. 

I don’t know how long I was there just pacing and thinking. But it was long enough for the room to become completely dark and then light again. All throughout the night, Y/N’s condition remained the same. Hearts slowly healing back to full, but her eyes still closed. My legs felt like jelly underneath me. I had been on my feet for so long. Slowly I walked over to Y/N’s side of the bed, sitting on the chair I had placed there when I was tending to their back. I found my hand reaching out and carefully pulling Y/N’s hand from her side and holding in both of my hands, bringing it up to my mouth and placing a soft kiss to Y/N’s hand. 

“Y/N… I don’t know if you can hear me,” I began, a lump forming in my throat and tears pricking in my eyes, “but if you can. I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I failed you. You’re hurt and it’s all my fault. I should have kept a better eye on you, I should have been beside you, but I wasn’t and now you’re not waking up and I don’t know why… I’m so sorry Y/N. I love you. I love you so much. Please, please come back to me,” I begged. The tears that had been welling up in my eyes finally streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold them anymore. I moved and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of Y/N’s mouth that was exposed by their position. “I love you,” I whispered once more, before bringing our joined hands back to my forehead and closing my eyes tight.*

After a few more moments of silent begging, a gasp startled me out of my thoughts. My eyes shot open to find Y/N’s Y/E/C ones staring back at me. “Y/N,” I breathed out in disbelief. “Techno” they whispered back, “What happened?” I let go of their hand and brought mine to their cheek and gently stroked their face, “What do you remember, love?” I asked, looking at her face deeply. Y/N attempted to adjust themselves, but winced. “Careful,” I warned, looking over to their back. The burns had healed a little bit, but it was best for them to remain on their stomach for a while longer. 

“We were getting materials,” she said slowly, her eyes scanning mine. I gave her a slight nod silently encouraging her to continue. “And I was chopping wood. There was an explosion… A creeper. I landed on my stomach in front of… of a witch. It hit me with two splash potions… it hurt so much and I felt so sick, and then it all went dark,” Y/N finished, eyes scanning my face. I nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, yeah that’s what happened, love. When I heard you scream I dropped everything and ran to you. I wasn’t fast enough and for that I’m truly sorry,” I apologized, bringing their hand up and kissing it once more. 

Y/N rolled her eyes at me, “It’s not your fault dummy. Besides, you probably rescued me just in time. Didn’t you? Kill the witch and then bring me here and fix me up, didn’t you?” She questioned, eyebrows raised. I nodded sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head with my free hand, “Yeah. I guess I did that…” I replied, trailing off. Y/N let out a small scoff with a grin painting her face, “You’re a hero Tech, my hero… I love you,” She stated softly. My heart fluttered in adoration, “I love you too. So much,” I responded softly. “Come here and kiss me you big doof,” Y/N commanded, a cheesy smile on their face. I couldn’t help but return her smile as I leaned down, reached under her chin and gently tilted her head to mine, pressing my lips to hers in a sweet yet passionate kiss. 

I felt all of my worry melt away as our lips were connected. The kiss reminded me that Y/N was in fact here, alive, and safe with me. My love’s eyes were open and the totem had worked, although a bit slower than I would have liked, but it worked nonetheless. I slowly pulled away from the kiss, a soft smile on my lips. “Can we cuddle now?” Y/N asked innocently. Who am I to deny her request? 

I carefully stood from my chair and made my way to my side of the bed, crawling ever so gently into bed next to Y/N. I carefully laid myself next to her and slowly placed an arm around the top of her shoulders where the burns weren’t as back and the cuts had mostly healed, “Is this okay?” I whispered softly, my eyes scanning my lover’s for any discomfort. “Yeah, it’s okay,” She responded softly, her eyes fluttering closed. And for the first time in many hours, I wasn’t worried about her eyes being closed. In fact, I allowed my own eyes to flutter closed and allowed my body to fully relax knowing the one I love is completely safe. 

*Do you guys know the position I’m talking about? The one you always see in movies and tv shows in hospital scenes where the one conscious person has the other person’s hand clutched in both of their hands and it’s pressed to their forehead? Yes, no? Let me know! Lol

There you have it I really hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like!

[ragingbookdragon]

Lightning Strikes Across Our Skin

Barry Allen x Lanternsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This got farther away from me than I meant for it too, but oh well! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He loved her. He loved her more than anything in the entire multiverse. But when she and her brother got around one another—and truth be told, they were never not around each other; something about Blue and Green Lantern rings working best in each other’s range—they caused more trouble than he liked.

Hal was the antagonizer, and she was the instigator. And when they concocted a plan to get someone into trouble or just to piss someone off, they pulled the plan with perfection; the only thing worse than one Jordan barreling headfirst into danger was a second Jordan following behind with shouts of acclamation.

And poor Barry was stuck between the two of them when they did, like he always was—partially because he was the only one who could keep his best friend out of trouble, and the other part because he was the only one who could keep his girlfriend out of trouble too. That and because wherever a Lantern was, a Speedster was sure to be around too.

***

She slapped her hand against Hal’s chest, flipping the villain the middle finger in hope that it would anger them. “I’ll pay you half my stipend from the air base if you hit Weather Wizard with a lightning bolt.”

He snorted, creating another construct wall as a wave of ice came at them. “Isn’t that Barry’s thing, (Y/N)?”

Her eyes followed along the ground, watching as the yellow blur unraveled another tornado, speeding to another one. “He’s…wound up right now.” She turned, facing Weather Wizard. “C’mon pal! We’ve got better things to do than hang out here! And you’ve got a date in Iron Heights!”

The supervillain all but growled, slinging icicles and hail at her and she raised her arm, a blue aegis forming. The ice shattered against it, and she lowered her wrist. “This isn’t going to end like you want it too.”

“What I want isn’t comprehendible to the likes of you, you blue bitch.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “My name’s not blue bitch, pal.” She flew, landing behind Hal and no words needed to be said between the Jordan siblings as a cyan construct of a jet formed around them; Hal in the front and her behind like it’d always been. Their heads were cloaked in flight helmets. She reached up and flicked a button, listening to the engines roar. “It’s Blue Lantern.”

“Damn straight,” Hal asserted, and they both felt the tug as they sunk back in their seats, the construct hitting Mach one almost instantly.

Weather Wizard didn’t even know what hit him, because when it did, they broke the sound barrier, and even Barry skidded to a halt as the sonic boom shook the city around them; he huffed a laugh of disbelief as Hal did a second flyby and (Y/N) flipped him the bird again.

The construct faded and the two siblings split apart; she pointed to the cyclone Barry was heading for. “Green! Go help Flash! I’ve got this!”

He looked at her. “You sure?” when she nodded, he hesitated, but a quick glance towards Barry made him agree and he flew off.

(Y/N) turned back to the supervillain who was picking himself up off the rooftop of a building, grasping the golden scepter. She lowered down and gazed at him. “This can end right here, Mardon.” Gesturing to the stave, she said, “Give me the staff.”

The cyclone blew in the distance, signaling its end and Weather wizard looked at her. “You want the staff?” he raised it and her eyes followed it into the night sky, watching it churn black and cloudy even in the darkness, thunder rumbling wildly. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he bellowed, “Then take it!” he brought the staff down and (Y/N) barely had time to react as multiple bolts of white-hot lightning shot down, cracking against the concrete roof around them.

She raised her hands, trying to form a shield, but a stray bolt of electricity connected to her ring and just like a rod, she was lit up with strikes. A scream stuck in her throat as the lightning died out and she collapsed onto the roof, the blue suit fading from her body as she smoked.

Someone called her name from above, but she fell into darkness with a blur of red being the last thing she saw.

***

The second she came too, she screamed out in pain as her skin cracked across her body, burned and charred. Someone was holding her shoulder, effectively pinning her down, but only causing more pain.

“(Y/N), don’t move.” It was Barry.

She felt tears roll down her burned cheeks. “It hurts.”

He appeared in her vision, still in his suit, but his cowl off, face torn in despair, eyes heavy with concern. “I know, honey,” he implored. “I know it does, but I need you to stay still. Hal’s coming back with Saint Walker as fast as they can.”

His hand was so tight on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help but screech out, “Let go of me!”

Barry pulled from her as if she’d shot him and his face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, honey.”

(Y/N) didn’t really care what he meant to do, all she cared about was the fact that every inch of her body was covered in third degree burns and though most of her nerve ending were probably seared dead, she still felt the pain licking up her body in waves of never-ending, excruciating agony.

She wailed loudly and it took all Barry had in him not to cradle her in his arms. But all he could do was find a clean cloth and soak it in cool water, gently draping it over her forehead.

“I know, honey,” he whispered. “Just hang on.”

“Put me out,” she begged, and he gaped at her. “Please, put me out.” Her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist. “Please, Barry.”

He could only gaze at the woman he loved and nod, hurrying away and returning with a syringe full of anesthetic. “I love you,” he promised, sticking the needle into her arm and her head lolled back, eyes rolling into her skull.

***

When (Y/N) came to again, nothing hurt, and she blinked blearily, the ceiling of Barry’s bedroom clearing in her vision. She wiggled her fingers and toes, just to be sure they were still there and that she could move them, then she raised her arm into her sight. It was bare of any burns, and she sighed in relief. Saint Walker must’ve been able to regenerate most of her cells. (Y/N) was going to have to thank him when she got back to Odym.

Her eyes trailed from her arm to the window, and she was surprised to see the sun peeking through the curtains. She must’ve been out for hours.

(Y/N) sat up, glancing down at the state of her dress, and surmising that Barry had removed the remnants of her clothes and replaced them with a pair of his boxers and an old t-shirt. Speaking of Barry, she thought, looking around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She threw her legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cold, hardwood floor and she stood up, quietly walking out of the bedroom and into the hallway. No sounds emanated from the bathrooms, or the kitchen and her brows furrowed as she walked into the kitchen, confusion giving way to relief when she saw Barry curled up on the couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown down his waist.

Walking over, she sat down on the edge of the sofa, resting a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking as she murmured, “Barry.” He shifted ever so slightly, and she smiled, leaning down to murmur again, this time in his ear, “Flash.”

He jerked, effectively kissing her forehead with his own and (Y/N) recoiled with a shout of pain, dropping onto the floor as she cradled her head. “Jesus fuck, Barry!”

“(Y/N),” he said, blinking, realization setting in as he scrambled to get the cover off his legs. “(Y/N)!”

Barry slammed into her, arms and legs wrapping around her like he was a monkey, and she could only smile as she wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him close. He buried his face in her shoulder and soon she felt the dampness seep through the fabric and onto her skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried against her shoulder, and she reached up, running her fingers through his short blond hair.

“It’s okay, Barry.”

He pulled away, the tears pouring down his cheeks. “I wasn’t fast enough, and you almost died.”

(Y/N) took his face in her hands. “Hey, hey. Look at me.” He did so and she stated, “I engaged Mardon. What happened was on me, not you.” His lips parted, but she was quick to press her hand to them. “Barry, it wasn’t your fault.”

His blue eyes searched hers and he shook his head, evidently not satisfied with it, but he didn’t speak again, simply tucking her head under his chin, strong arms holding her tighter. “I love you,” he breathed against the crown of her head, and she reached up, running her fingers across his jaw.

“I love you, Barry.”

At some point they’d made it back to the bed, Barry only leaving for a few moments to get something for her to eat and drink, and when she’d finished, he’d curled up behind her, her resting back against his chest.

His hand traced patterns in the exposed skin of her arm and he murmured, “You were whimpering when I put you under.”

(Y/N) hummed, not really remembering much of the night; she’d been delirious. “How bad was it?”

The arm around her waist tightened. “Third degree over most of your body.” He sighed heavily against her head. “Saint Walker was exhausted when he was finished healing you.”

“I’ll have to thank him when I see him again.” She craned her neck, catching his eyes. “And I have you to thank for taking care of me while I was down.” (Y/N) reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Barry.”

He stared down at her and firmly said, “Don’t do that again. Okay?”

She smiled. “I won’t.” Brushing her fingers over his skin, her thumb caught his lip and she grinned when she felt the stickiness of Chapstick. She pulled away, snorting at his whine of displeasure, and turned, throwing a leg over his hips as she perched herself in his lap.

“Are you wearing Cherry Chapstick?” his response was cut off as she pressed her lips to his, swiping her tongue over his bottom lip. “Mmm,” she moaned. “You are.”

Barry barely had time to grasp at her hips before she was tipping his head back, kissing him harder. “What—what’s up with—Cherry Chapstick?” he panted between kisses, feeling heat coursing through him as she tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, lips moving in a hot streak down his jaw and neck.

“Tastes good,” she replied, sinking her teeth into his neck and Barry gasped, bucking against her. “Your pulse is racing.”

He couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled from his throat because he knew she’d said that to get a rise from him. “Honey,” he groaned and kissed him again until they were both gasping for breath.

(Y/N) gazed at her handiwork, Barry with his head resting against the headboard, eyes blown and dazed, lips bruised and kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed a pretty red. She swiped her tongue across her lower lip, smirking when Barry’s eyes followed the movement and murmured, “Tastes like cherries.” Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, holding back to ask, “Think you can slow down long enough?”

Barry grinned and flipped them, pressing her back into the bed. “I think I can manage that, honey.”

[nagipops]

hi! i just saw your shikamaru x smart reader piece and it's so clever and sweet and cute!! can I request kakashi or shikamaru trying (poorly) to cook for a gn!reader?

IS IT COOKED?

FEATURING: shikamaru nara!

SUMMARY: in which you and your lazy, culinary-challenged boyfriend attempt to cook up an edible meal.

WARNINGS: food, profanity

A/N: thank you so much, ari :D lowkey feel like kakashi would be a god in the kitchen, so have shikamaru <3

“What a drag...” Shikamaru sighed, draping over your shoulders as you dragged his limp body into the kitchen.

“C’mon, Shika, I’m feeling lazy today.” You turned so that your chest was facing him instead of your back, so his arms slipped around your waist instead. “Plus, I wanna taste your cooking! I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”

He whined with his face buried in your chest. “Finee... but only ‘cause I like you so much.”

You giggled, ruffling his dark hair and wrapping your arms around him. “Like me? What are we, grade schoolers?”

“Like like you.” He pulled himself upright and planted a hand on your head as he entered the kitchen, pulling you in with him. “Okay boss, show me how it’s done.”

Grabbing ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the countertop, you folded your arms in front of your chest. “Nope. You’re doing this on your own, Shika.”

His jaw crashed to the floor. “On my own?”

You nodded in satisfaction. “Yup. I told you, I’m feeling lazy today. C’mon, show me what you got.”

Shikamaru’s jaw was still on the ground as he gaped incredulously at you for a whole minute before he picked it up off the floor and stared dumbfounded at the heap of veggies and meats in front of him. “What am I… wha…”

Snickering at the fact that you finally caught your smart aleck boyfriend at a loss, you hopped up onto the opposite countertop, swinging your legs back and forth in amusement.

Your boyfriend gave you an exasperated look, slumping his shoulders. “(Y/N)…”

You flashed him a cheeky grin. “I believe in you! Whatever you make, I’m sure it’ll be delicious. I’ll help you out if you reaaaally need it.”

He trudged over and draped his arms around your shoulders, sighing heavily. “Fine… that cute face of yours is gonna be the death of me.”

A blush creeping up your neck, you smiled and hugged him back. “Mhm. Flattery’s not gonna get you out of this one, though.”

“Damn it.”

The crackle of noodles hitting the pan accompanied by the greasy aroma of cooking oil wafted through the kitchen as Shikamaru fumbled with a stir fry spatula while simultaneously attempting to halve an onion.

“Shit.” The wooden paddle clattered to the ground with a deafening crack amidst the cacophony within the kitchen. Meat was sizzling in the pan next to the noodles, the sink was running over the colander of broccoli, countless bowls, measuring cups, and ingredients were strewn about the countertops. You were running out of room to sit.

Biting back a grimace, you piped up quietly. “Shika, I think you got a little ahead of yourself…”

“I am doing perfectly fine, (Y/N).” He huffed, beads of sweat forming above his furrowed brows as he swiftly stirred the yakisoba noodles back and forth in the scalding hot pan. An earsplitting pop followed by a tall fume of smoke sounded from the pan of meat. Eyes panicked, he hollered, “Uh… your help would be greatly appreciated, though!”

Sliding off your tiny sliver of countertop in the blink of an eye, you rushed to your boyfriend’s side and clamped a lid over the pan before flipping off the burner, heaving a relieved sigh. “My god, Shika, you almost burnt our house down!”

He chuckled sheepishly, stirring the noodles more hesitantly. “Ah… sorry ‘bout that. Looks like I need your help, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, lightly flicking his temple. “Even if you burn the whole house down, you aren’t getting my help. That was a one-time save.”

The end of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Is it, now? Should I do it again?”

“Try me, witty boy.”

Shikamaru eyed you with a challenging stare, raising an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, boss.” He reached over to remove the lid from the previously flaming pan as you stood rooted to your spot. Clouds of smoke and the acrid fumes of burnt meat instantaneously corrupted your senses as your boyfriend grabbed a pair of tongs and flipped the bright pink slab of meat over so the impossibly charred side was upright.

The two of you stared at the pitch black block of… what could maybe— possibly— pass as meat.

“Well, it’s definitely… cooked?”

“Ugh… Choji would be utterly disappointed in me, huh?”

“Incredibly disappointed. Keep going, though. This is… still edible. I hope?”

Shikamaru heaved an exhausted sigh. “C’mon, babe, isn’t this valid proof that I’m not built for this cooking thing?”

“Careful, those noodles are going to burn too.” You guided his hands back to the non-burning pan, allowing him to stir them back and forth once again. “Timing is everything. You started the noodles too early, and now the veggies aren’t going to be chopped up in time.”

“Constructive criticism, please. Constructive.” He stirred the noodles with a bit more diligence and effort this time as they turned golden brown.

You giggled, carefully grabbing the knife and chopping the abandoned onion in half. “Look, turn off the heat. I’ll watch the noodles for you, you have to cut the vegetables. Sound good?”

Shikamaru whistled in relief as he flipped off the stove. “Music to my ears, boss.” He slyly snaked his arms around your waist as you organized the countertop for him. “Man, this is exhausting,” he whined into your ear. “How the hell do you do this three times a day?”

You smirked in satisfaction, reaching an arm behind your head to ruffle his hair. “I ask myself the very same question. I think we should cut it down to two, no?”

“Noooo… your cooking’s too damn tasty…” he pressed a soft kiss to your neck as you felt his body get limper and limper.

You clicked your tongue, slapping the side of his head. “Hey, no sleeping on the job. Get to work.”

Digging his chin into your shoulder as he unraveled his arms from your body, he sighed, “Aye aye, captain.”

After an abundance of eye watering slices, near finger amputations, and arguments over if “julienne” is a name or a knife technique, Shikamaru was finally completed with his masterpiece of a dish.

A makeshift blindfold fashioned out of a random scarf was fastened around your eyes as you awaited his creation at the dinner table as your boyfriend rustled around the kitchen.

A deafening crash sounded from a few feet away, and your heart leapt out of your chest. “Umm… Shika?”

“I’m fine!” He shouted, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Uh, just some— shit— just some technical difficulties!”

Stifling a laugh, you eased into your seat once more. “Okay, I’m waiting!”

After a few more minutes of clattering and curses, you heard the tune of your favorite classical song whistled by none other than Shikamaru. “Welcome to the Narastaurant, (Y/N). For today, I present you with…” His fingers hastily fumbled with the knot at the back of your head. “Wait, shit…”

You heaved an amused sigh as a grin formed on your lips. “You need help there?”

“No, I— I got it…” A sharp tug pulled your head backwards as the scarf unraveled into his hands.

“Shika!”

“Shoot, sorry ‘bout that.” He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head. “Anyways…”

Your eyes were drawn to the colorful plate in front of you. Meticulously arranged into a rainbow of nearly charred veggies perched atop a heaping pile of noodles and half-pink-half-black slices of meat was a steaming plate of yakisoba. A gasp rose in your throat. “Shika! This is incredible!” You whipped around to face him as he stood proudly over you. “How did you plate this so well?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Growing up with that flower pig Ino taught me a few things about color theory and spacing and whatnot.” He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “As for taste…”

You raised your eyebrows, turning back to the plate in front of you. “Ah, yes, the taste…” Clasping your hands together, you gave a quick thank you for the meal before snapping your chopsticks in half and digging into the colorful dish. You raised a well-balanced bite of meat, veggies, and noodles to your lips and were instantly overwhelmed by the pungent, bitter taste of burnt oil. Pursing your lips as your lungs begged for oxygen, you forced yourself to get it down your throat. “Ahem, ahh, this is… this is something!”

Not one to get offended over his mistakes, Shikamaru only chuckled from behind you. “No kidding. Let me have a try.” Whipping out his own pair of chopsticks, he grabbed a bundle of noodles and two slices of charred meat before raising it to his lips, nearly coughing it back up as soon as he did so. “Oh— oh, god, oh god that’s bad.” Both of your hacking coughs rang throughout the dining room. “I feel like I just ate Satan’s ashes.” He whispered in between strained coughs, tears forming in his eyes.

Laughter welled up in your throat in between coughs as your eyes began to water as well. “I mean—” Cough. “I mean, Satan might like this?”

“Gee— thanks, babe. I’m sure he’d love it if we— we showed up to his annual potluck in hell with burnt pieces of who-knows-what.” Shikamaru was laughing too, gripping the edges of the table as he attempted to regain his composure.

The two of you laughed and coughed and laughed at his failed debut as a chef, teasing and poking each other at the dinner table.

Let’s just say you definitely didn’t eat Satan’s ashes for dinner that day.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[tokisguitarpick]

interruption part.1

characters: Skwisgaar Skwigelf x Reader 

doods, I really tried to make this one giant piece but I said that on friday, it’s fuckin wednesday, work has been kicking my ass, here’s what I got so far

The first time you met Skwisgaar Skwigelf was unfortunately also the first time you pissed off Skwisgaar Skwigelf. 

In your defense, you thought it would be prudent to bond with the support staff- your boss Charles, the music producer Abigail and her assistant Dick, the Klokateers, the people around the band- as soon as you could to cement your place at work first. After that, then you would really worry about Dethklok liking you. It's not that you were rude to them, hell your whole job was making sure their needs were met and they were secure and happy on a day to day basis. But if Charles asked you for a report at the same time Murderface told you to go get his dethphone from his bedroom, Charles took first priority. Which was why when you were sent to deliver a fax from Crystal Mountain Records to Abigail, you went diligently down the 4 floors it took to reach the studio and entered quietly, recognizing the red recording light on over the door. A brightly melodious guitar solo rang through the gothic studio rooms, sounding as exquisite as a Beethoven composition when unaccompanied by the rest of the death metal band, and you hovered by the door for a moment. You were nervous to disturb now that you heard exactly what they were recording. But your rationale won out and you decided to simply slip the fax to Abigail and leave.

Approaching her desk, you got a clear look at the source of the music and it caused your step to falter. Skwisgaar, tall and imposing, shredded his guitar with deft hands inside the recording booth, his fingers moving faster on the Gibson neck than your eyes could follow.

Instead, they moved to his face, taking in his closed eyes, his full lips parted, and a light sheen of sweat covering his skin as he worked. His long, cornsilk hair was uncharacteristically swept up in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, short tendrils made loose from exertion clinging to the edges of his face or else flowing around him. A bead of sweat caught your eye as it rolled down his Adams apple and your gaze trailed to his thin, defined arms and the muscles working under his skin, his long fingers showing off every ounce of skill he had. He looked nothing like the guitarist that took the stage with Dethklok, giving a heavy and thrashing performance. He looked at peace, a man entirely in his element. He looked heavenly.

Suddenly, every headline calling him a rock and roll god over a photo of him covered in ghoulish makeup felt entirely false. If only they could see what was in front of you now.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Your faltered step caused you to squeak as you caught your balance. Abigail jumped and turned in her chair. The music ended with an abrupt squeal and Skwisgaar's icy blue eyes snapped open.

"Oh, who the fucks is this?!" he spat into the mic and you blushed, embarrassment finding a home in the pit of your stomach. Abigail sighed, looking you over with a crooked eyebrow.

"So sorry, I was just bringing this to you." You handed Abigail the fax and she unfolded the paper to read it over. Skwisgaar, who seemed to find your interruption bothersome enough, bristled as your eyes flickered between him and the music producer. He yanked the guitar strap off his shoulder and snarled, "Not evens anythings important! Get the fucks out of heres!" He held the guitar by the neck and gestured aggressively with it.

You jumped, turning tail and hurrying away as fast as you could without running. The only reasoning for his behavior came at the end of an email from Abigail, a throwaway line about it being crunch time with the production of the newest album. But sadly, that was the start of your professional relationship with the Dethklok member and it was a shame, that one instance coloring the way he treated your presence in Mordhaus. He didn't reply when you asked the band questions, he turned his nose up when you had to contain some of the band's more brutal ideas, he only ever referred to you as a servant, the list went on.

It was taxing and honestly, a little upsetting. You had managed to piss off Nathan your first week here as well but by the next morning, he greeted you with a joke about it and asked you to make a pot of coffee. You spent many afternoons wondering if there was any way to make it up to the haughty guitarist. And wondering what exactly you needed to make up in the first place.

The next climactic moment in your relationship came around the four month mark of your employment.

The acrid smell of burning plastic reached you as you walked past the hallway leading to the kitchen, making you sigh. You put a jump in your step, something at odds with the very exasperated expression you could feel on your face, and hurried to the source of the smell, the armful of dirty laundry you'd picked up in the living room discarded as you jogged. Entering the kitchen, it took no time to zero in on the small fire slowly growing on the stovetop. 

Toki and Skwisgaar stood over it, the former blowing frantically at the quickly blackening frying pan while the former flapped at the fire with a hand towel. The mere sight of Toki's long hair billowing around the open flame made your chest seize. "Guys, guys," you will be the first to admit, your voice came out in a shriek, "stop! Move!"

Toki jumped away from the stove with a welp, his eyes wild when he saw you. You snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall by the door and ran up to the stove. Skwisgaar still hadn't moved. If anything, he seemed to step in your way, blocking you from the fire. "I has it under controls, leave." His voice was hard and cold, almost jarring in contrast to the scene playing out.

 And in your bewilderment, you snapped. Months of irritation compounding itself into a rage that bubbled past your lips, you growled, "Skwisgaar Skwigelf. If you think-", you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wrenched him back, "-for a goddamn SECOND-" Skwisgaar stumbled and you caught his slim waist in the crook of your arm, "-I'm going to explain to Charles-", you threw him behind you and lined up the extinguisher, "-his most arrogant guitarist got third degree burns because he was too fucking STUBBORN-" aim, "-to MOVE!" fire. You pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher and doused the stove in a thick, chemical scented foam, holding it there until the fire was smothered. Breathing heavily, you spun around and shoved the extinguisher into the blonde's arms. "Then you're stupid, too," you murmured with venom.

Skwisgaar was a tall man so even face to face as you were, he still towered over you, his eyes icy and his hands overlapping yours on the safety equipment. His eyes traced your face and you could the heat coming off your cheeks but using all your strength, you softened your expression. "Stop freezing me out. I'm just here to help." Your voice was still low but much gentler, which seemed to throw him off. Skwisgaar's haughty face mellowed and his eyes dropped to your mouth, his bottom lip finding a place between his teeth unconsciously.

"Ja," Skwisgaar finally replied, a terse acceptance as he took the fire extinguisher from you. His eyes hadn't left your face for a moment and he just rocked back on his heels, keeping the equipment awkwardly held in front of him. "I suppose Charles woulds finds dat upsettings."

Breathing a sigh of relief, you finally looked back at the stove and frowned at the charred frying pan. "Can I ask what you guys were doing?"

Toki finally piped up, seeming relieved that you weren’t yelling at them. "We's were tryings to makes a grilleds cheese."

Eyebrows furrowed, you studied the charcoal in the pan until you recognized it as a whole block of cheese. The mental image of a new, freshly purchased block of cheese, still wrapped in the plastic, being placed by these adult idiots into the frying pan made your blood pressure rise and you immediately put it to the side, deciding against any other questions.

"Okay. Well. I'll order us some pizza."

That cheered Toki up immediately but Skwisgaar simply nodded once, his cheeks turning a very light pink.

From that point on, Skwisgaar seemed to slowly accept your place as a member of the support staff. Between riffing on your jokes and agreeing with you on occasion, you would've said that your relationship with Skwisgaar was the best it had ever been.

Unfortunately, this came with an unforeseen consequence. 

Now, you had a massive crush on Skwisgaar.

Okay, sure. Technically, you'd had a crush on him for a few years. Everyone in the world knew Dethklok and regardless if they liked the music or not, everyone had a favorite. Yours had always been the Swed. And sure, he looked hot as fuck in the recording booth all those momths ago. But all the following cold shoulder encounters had turned you off of the rock star, the withering look he shot you whenever you had tried to reign in the band members kicking any thoughts of fancy to the curb.

But that was before. This was after. The shock you felt later that day when he addressed you by name for the first time was electrifying. Instead of jestful barbs at your expense on the off chance he acknowledged you, Skwisgaar joked that you took no shit so Murderface better stop riling you up. No longer barking "Moves!" if you were in his way, he simply slipped past you, his hand warm against your upper- though once or twice, lower- back. Now you preened yourself when you knew you would see him, not wishing you could hide. It was driving you crazy.

You felt like a groupie or a schoolgirl, constantly fixated on your crush. Wishing and scheming to get closer when he was around you, his presence obscuring your thoughts when he was away. You had read all the print interviews available in the Mordhaus archives, watched the video interviews online, and had even followed a Dethklok fan Instagram to get a smattering of band photos on your timeline every day. You justified it all as being diligent at your job. But that only went so far, even with yourself. You stayed there, living in limbo for months as you wrestled with your feelings and professionalism. Skwisgaar, however, seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on you. You caught him staring at you sometimes but it was so few and far between that you simply chalked it up to him zoning out.

Or that's how you lived until Christmas.

You celebrated your winter holiday early so you could be on call for the band during actual Christmastime, which turned out to be a good idea. The mothers of Dethklok decided to visit the week leading up to the 25th, having skipped the year before on Charles' recommendation and they seemed exceedingly cranky due to that. The week itself was brutal - Nathan was broody and even quicker to anger than normal, Pickles hadn't been seen sober since they learned about the impending arrival, Murderface was essentially a walking scab from the anxious picking he'd subjected his arms to, and Toki was catatonic.

Of course, your focus was caught most by Skwisgaar. Sulky with a sour stomach, he kept his head down all week. He had his guitar glued to his hands and was second only to Toki in using avoidance as a defense mechanism.

It was incredibly stressful juggling between the bristled band members and their neurotic mothers. Charles himself said it would be at least a month before they could schedule any public appearances so the boys could decompress, and ideally avoid a PR nightmare. So to say you were glad to see their mothers finally leave, only Nathan's thanking you for attending to her, was an understatement.

After a long day of taking everyone to eat then to the airport, you had retired to your small Mordhaus apartment as soon as you could - which was pretty soon as the band seemed just as exhausted and had disappeared once you had gotten home.

You didn't reemerge until after midnight, sneaking out and down the hall to find something to eat at a quarter past twelve. The house was quiet on your walk to the kitchen but after grabbing your snack - a cold cut sandwich you had wrapped in a paper towel to avoid leaving a trail of crumbs - you heard soft, twinkling music coming from the living room as you passed it on your way to the elevators. Pausing to listen, you recognized it as guitar and wondered which of the guitarists were playing, given that Nathan was the only band member who couldn't. You wondered if Murderface had seen you head down and was trying to get your attention, a ploy he had used before, ending with your curiosity getting the best of you. You crept to the living room entrance to peek.

Skwisgaar sat on the sofa facing you, pale and glowing in the dim light coming from the arcade games. His eyes were closed as his fingers glided over the neck of his Gibson, his silky hair draping down his neck and naked shoulders. Seemingly dressed for bed, he was shirtless - though his guitar hid his midriff, to your disappointment - with a pair of black sweatpants on. He seemed lost in his music, strumming out a low melody with mastery.

Your breath caught as you took in the sight and you stood there silently, trying to photograph the moment in your mind, until you registered his expression.

Devastation.

His eyes were closed but tears were streaming down his gaunt cheeks, his quivering eyebrows were furrowed, and he was mouthing a song to himself, his full lips pale. He looked like a man at war with himself, lost and broken. The music was no longer soft and twinkling, it hung in the air like a funeral dirge.

As the past few days ran through your mind, every mention of Skwisgaar's childhood came back to you and all the pieces suddenly clicked into place. This wasn't a man lost, this was a man, once again, in his element. The grief and sickness he had been feeling all week was flowing out of his guitar like the tears from his eyes.

Feeling your own eyes prickling, you felt like this was too much, too personal, for you to see. But despite that, your heart ached and you were stepping forward before you registered the motion. "Skwisgaar?"