#promise I literally spent some days wondering if I should post something saying where are u bc imysm– 🥹

[godnectar]

My love! it took me forever to find you! I had to make a new Tumblr account because I lost the password and email with my apple ID.

How have you been? What have I missed? I've missed you so much!

-Hazel

[valenhell]

From the studio that brought you “I can’t find good Byler fics in the ao3 tag”, comes:

"The Definitive Byler fic rec list"

Literally no one asked for this but because I spent the majority of last year (...and 2019, and 2018...) reading byler fics and coping with life, I thought I’d make a list of some of my absolute favorites. 

The other day I was basically starving for some byler fics and the angel @magicalfairy provided me with some of her faves so I thought I’d do the same, because I love reading, and I love all of these fics and I appreciate their writers💗 And fic writers in general, come on!

- This is a mix of long works and one-shots/short stories. - Everything is mostly fluff with a tad of angst and a lot of internalized homophobia conflict.  - Every fic is completed, except for the ones I mention that they are not. - I try my best to lay out the stories in a way that I won’t spoil you the plot but also warning you of some stuff you might don’t like. Either way, all of these fics are correctly tagged by their respective authors/owners, so read at your own risk. For better understanding, in between brackets I denote Rating, Words and quantity of Chapters. - I feel like I should clarify, none of these are narrated in the singular first person. None of that “And I told him...”, no. 

Long fics

a dream always the same (T, 99k, 35 chapters) What happened in those few weeks between the Battle of Starcourt and the Byers leaving Hawkins. Literally a satisfying and very needed fill in of season three, with a good dose of Mike’s thoughts and conflict. Mike’s characterization is specially amazing in this one. The writing style is amazing and I know the author put everything into making it historically accurate, and it was really sweet. You probably read it, it’s by the amazing sevensided here on Tumblr🧡

Spring Break (T, 120k, 14/15 chapters) The slowburn of my dreams. Lots of internalized conflict and conflict with each other. Conflict within the Party (uhh kind of), conflict with Mike and Will. Byers family has moved and the kids are visiting! Chaos. Characterization is on point. Yeah, I know it’s unfinished, but the fourteenth chapter actually serves as a pretty nice ending. 

This is where it starts (M, 148.8k, 24 chapters) Aged up characters. The Party is in college and Will disappears again, but now it’s different. Mike knows he didn’t vanish from thin air, and the discovery he and the Party end up making is pretty insane. Mystery solving/fantasy/third dimension, throw in a bit of D&D and Mike realizing some shit, and you get this marvelous fic. It’s a breath of fresh air. The world building is definitely one of the elements that stands out the most, because it’s very nicely described, it sounds like a dream and it’s completely immersive. Absolute gem of a fic. 

there’s a Starman waiting in the sky (M, 30.6k, 8 chapters) Do I need to say anything? Will is out there living his best life and Mike realizes that wow, umm, maybe his best friend looks a bit too nice with that costume... and wait, is he getting horny? It’s actually really fun and sexy.

The Evening Speaks (T, 23k, 7 chapters) In where Mike is a late-night college radio host and Will is the art student that stays up till late to catch up with Wheeler on the Mic. They flirt through songs y’all, this one is really sweet. 

heads or tails? (E, 24k, 3 chapters) Aged up characters. I know most people don’t enjoy sex in fics and with specific characters but this one is insanely well written. It’s a slowburn that commits to the tension and with every word you are grasping and anticipating their next move. I think you can find the author here on Tumblr as yousaidyes🧡

The Man of Average (M, 56.7k, 5/? chapters) Aged up characters. No but you don’t understand, the writing here is absolute gourmet. The story is exciting as well, it’s super interesting. Weirdly enough, for being very aged up characters, they are well characterized but they don’t feel like teenagers. They are naturally Mike and Will. The author really captured Mike and Will’s essence. I know, it’s unfinished and it’s updated very rarely, but this is the typical fic you can’t believe someone just posted on the internet for free. I will say though, I think it’s definitely not for everyone. Read at your own risk.

Heartstrings (E, 82.8k, 24/? chapters) Aged up characters. By the same author of The Man of Average. A collection of memories, the road to Mike and Will’s happy ever after. And fucking hell!!!!! You’ll cry and get angry, you’ll cheer for them, then you’ll want to crash their faces together because god dammit you love each other!!! But yeah, same thing here. The writing and the way the story is laid out as a nonlinear narrative is brilliant. And I also think this is one of the best Will versions I’ve read. The author might as well be the og creator of this two characters tbh. You can find the author here as mylesimeblr🧡

Sinners behind the walls (T, 1.5k, 1/1) And because I can’t stop recommending this author, a little thing of Mike tormenting himself but also being too deeply committed to Will. 

The Red Envelope series (T/E, 167K, two completed works) Something happens that Will thought was impossible and from there, pure drama and romance. Anything by this author has the potential to become your absolute favorite fic, but this series in particular is amazing. I doubt that any of you haven’t read this, but it doesn’t hurt to put it in this list. I’m pretty sure the author is serendipitous-magic on Tumblr🧡

A New Fight series (T, 91k, two completed works, one WIP) And finally the Star Wars AU that we all needed. But this isn’t your typical “Mike is Han”, “Will is Leia” and “El is Luke”, it’s way more interesting than that, and the author has appropriated the Star Wars world like no other. I’ll admit I’m not a 100% fluent in SW lore but this is amazing to me either way. This author is also on Tumblr, tea-for-one-please🧡

- Yes, most of these are (if not all), in a way, canon compliant/canonverse/canon continuation into fanon. (In a way)

One-shots and short stories

Sundae for Two, Please (G, 4.8k) Steve being the supportive friend and older brother these kids collectively need. (not Jonathan erasure, we love him). Steve is very sweet himself, and this little cute thing through his POV is gorgeous. Yes, it’s byler.

Backstage (T, 10k, 2/2) Jonathan, you forgot to mention to Will how hot your new band’s guitarist is, dude. Now he’s hyperventilating and weirdly flirting with him in the corner. Background Stonathan because why not.

102 Peach Street (G, 3.8k) Established relationship, but not only that, they are married :’’))) PURE fluff. Extreme fluffiness. Diabetes. 

sweatshirts and bottled up feelings (T, 3.2k) Or, Mike thinks that the sweatshirt Will wears looks insanely good on him. And kitchens are for lovers. 

kiss it better (T, 16.3k) Basically one of the best character studies of a few precise moments of Mike and Will’s relationship and feelings. 

will wonders ever cease (T, 11.3k) #i ship will and happiness. Omfg what a beautiful piece of fanfic. Will centric, this kid really deserves all the good in the world.

The Calm After the Storm (T, 1.6k) Tooth rotting fluff, boyfriends in love. Boyfriends being lazy, cuddling, love words, kisses. Boys loving each other’s company... Basically, Mike and Will in their element. What more can you ask for?

neither of us ready to let go (T, 4.8k) That scene from season three, but a bit of a fix it. 

Still in love (G, 1k) Domestic, married life au fluff. Y’all, I’m a sucker for established Byler, even if I can’t find many fics with it. But this is very sweet. It takes place in 2020, but I don’t think there are any mentions of the COVID-19 crisis that I remember.

I Nver Find Out ‘Til I’m Head Over Heels (G, 12.5K) Classic 5+1 fic. If you haven’t read it, where have you been? This is your moment. In where Mike keeps inviting Will to the school dances and Will thinks it’s just a joke until he realizes it’s not. 

Before You’re Gone (T, 5.9k) Will is leaving Hawkins and Mike thinks this is a great moment for a confession. This one I discovered last friday, thank you friend @magicalfairy 💗

You’re weird Wheeler (M, 4.5k) Mike unintentionally starts a tradition of going to each other to talk about their sexual encounters just after they finish. Will keeps getting more explicit with the details he shares, and he makes his best friend interested. This one is really fun y’all.

Out-Of-Town Friends (N/R, 4.6K) It’s not rated. I haven’t re- read it but I’d say it would probably fall in a T rating. So cute!! Will has new friends and sneaks off every friday and the Party doesn’t know where he is going, so Mike decides to follow him and is surprised. 

Snowed Under (G, 1.3k) By the same author of The New Fight series. Mike is spending christmas by himself in college because a snowstorm hits Chicago and Nancy can’t drive to see him, but then he has a surprise visitor. Ahhh just a lil sweet holiday fic. Super cute. 

you love me anyway series (T, 7.1k, three completed works) Literally just the cutest thing ever. Established Byler. Will loves to take pictures and he loves taking pictures of Mike. It’s adorable. 

you wanna be friends forever (i can think of something better) (T, 9k) This one is so amazing. So. Amazing. From Will’s POV, my kid deserves the world and he gets it. 

okay not to be okay (T, 4.9k) Mike is a bit sad but then everything is okay. 

can’t hold out forever (G, 18.4k) Y’all!!!!! 5+1 sweetness. Mike has been falling in love since kindergarten. And it’s long af, you’ll enjoy it. 

even if it takes forever (G, 1.3k) College short AU, they miss each other, they love each other, they promise all to each other. It is sappy y’all.

clear as day (N/R, 18.4K, 4 chapters) It’s not rated, but I’d say it falls in the T category. Strangers to friends to lovers. And also, everyone is pretty gay; we have our dynamic trio Mike, Max and El as disaster lesbians (and gay). Will works at the library and he is also gay. Lucas and Dustin and Will are the best friends we needed. It’s very sweet and the Party is kind of formed here!

I went overboard with the one-shots, so you must have realized how much I love long one-shots and I favor them over long works lmao but they are all amazing!!! If it’s on this list, I probably read it at 2 am, sobbing in my bed. So. Hope you enjoy it☺️🧡

[gukyi]

into the wilderness | pjm

summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

{camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: park jimin x female reader genre: angst, fluff, comedy word count: 27k warnings: unrequited love, camp shenanigans, awkwardness, secondhand embarrassment/hurt, ot7 cameos a/n: hello and welcome to the one thing that guyi has wanted to write for literal years now but never go around to! finally i can cross camp counselor au off my list. anyway, it’s been over a year since i wrote for jimin so i hope that this monster 27k fic can make up for that !!! i swear the ending is happy. i swear. i promise.

Something about last summer sucked. 

Maybe it was the record six wasps’ nests you found around the cabin, leaving you with more bee stings than mosquito bites by the end of camp. Maybe it was that weird murky green color of the water in the showers and the sinks that didn’t go away until three weeks in, when you were already positive you had contracted some sort of pond disease from brushing your teeth. Maybe it was the lack of Namjoon, who had an internship and couldn’t come, therefore removing all sense of order and leaving you and the rest of the counselors in a state of chaos.

Or maybe it was the fact that, on the very last night, at the very last counselor campfire, you told Jimin that you loved him. 

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how badly it would go. But telling him was so much easier than keeping it hidden, than letting it drag on and on, this boulder sitting on your chest for the rest of time. You had spent the whole eight weeks of camp rationalizing it to yourself, so much so that by the time the last counselor campfire rolled around, you were convinced that it wouldn’t be that disastrous. 

There was no part of you that thought Jimin would reciprocate your feelings. No part of you that secretly hoped that maybe he felt the same, and that you could end the summer with more money in your bank account and a boyfriend on your arm. You knew he didn’t. Jimin was sweet, and thoughtful, and gentle, which is exactly why you fell in love with him, but he was like that to everyone. You didn’t think that telling him would suddenly make him fall in love with you.

You told him because people like Jimin deserve to know that somebody loves them. 

You told him because you thought that nothing would change. 

What you didn’t really expect to happen was this:

Your marshmallow is burnt beyond recognition, poking off of the edge of a stick like a sad piece of coal rather than a sweet treat. At this point, it’s even darker than the chocolate sitting on the graham cracker in your lap, waiting to be smushed together into the sugar-fest known as a s’more, so eloquently named because you will apparently always want some more. 

“Uh, hello? Earth to Y/N?”

Taehyung’s hand waves furiously in front of your face as he leans forward to make eye contact with you.

“Huh?” You ask, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Your mind has been awfully cloudy these days, overcast like the weather around here. It’s a wonder you’re able to make your way through. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. “Your marshmallow looks like what happens when I try to make scrambled eggs.”

“Your scrambled eggs look like that?” Seokjin interrupts, pointing accusingly at your charred marshmallow. You’ve seen Taehyung in the kitchen. It’s not that bad, is it? “Next year you should sign up for some of Yoongi’s cooking classes. The six-year-olds can cook better than you.”

“You’d have to pay me way more than the shit they’re giving us to get me to teach Taehyung how to cook,” grumbles Yoongi. 

“I’m fine,” you promise Taehyung as Yoongi and Seokjin launch into a tirade about raising minimum wage. “I just—” You glance at your marshmallow. You don’t even think the fish monster at the bottom of the pond would eat it. And he apparently eats people whose hearts have turned to stone. Like Seokjin, who swears that it had eaten the tip of his pinky finger. “—like my marshmallows really cooked.”

Taehyung looks skeptical but drops the subject nonetheless, turning back around so he can find a different conversation to barge his way into. You’re willing to put money on him finding some way to annoy Jungkook. 

Insecure about your apparent lack of marshmallow-roasting skills, you pull your stick away from the campfire, blowing on it until you decide that you’re willing to risk burning the tips of your fingers. You pluck the marshmallow from the skewer, hissing to yourself as you quickly plop it onto the graham cracker, squishing the whole thing together. 

The marshmallow is so burnt that it barely gives underneath the press of your fingers, bouncing back up like rubber. You frown at your s’more, which clearly should be renamed to something else because nothing about the thing in your hands makes you want some more. 

Next to you, Jimin laughs at your pitiful attempt at a classic campfire treat. 

“You want mine?” He asks with a smile, holding out a flawless s’more, the kind that they make in movies to perpetuate the illusion of perfection. You look up at him and in the light of the fire he glows, like a spark from the flames had created him right then and there, like he had been born with light in his eyes, a halo surrounding his body. 

You wonder if Jimin knows how beautiful he is. How beautiful he has always been, radiating kindness and joy and laughter. He must know, right? It must be impossible for him to notice how everyone falls in love with him. You certainly aren’t an exception. 

He holds out the s’more in his hands, laughing as he looks at you because there must be something endearing about being a shitty s’more maker, and you think, what’s the worst that can happen?

“I’m in love with you.”

The s’more drops to the ground, hitting the grass with a thud. 

Jimin’s eyes meet yours, and for once, they are unreadable. This tragic sort of confusion, like he can’t believe the words you’re saying to him. Like his mind refuses to accept them as true. 

He opens his mouth, but you answer for him. 

“It’s okay,” you assure quickly, reaching a hand out to rest on his own. The touch makes him look away, like your fingers are the flames of the campfire, burning him where they touch his skin. “I—I know you don’t feel the same.”

It’s not a secret. Not to him, and not to you. Jimin purses his lips because he feels guilty for not loving you back. Because he is so good, so kind, that he feels as though he has wronged you because he doesn’t love you the way you love him. Like it’s his fault. 

“Y/N—” He starts, but he does not finish. 

“You…” you interrupt, looking down at your feet. You can’t look at Jimin because looking at him hurts, and you can’t look anywhere else because Jimin is all you think about. All you ever think about. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He speaks, and it’s as if the words don’t belong to him. Don’t belong to anyone. 

“What are we supposed to do?” He asks. 

You shrug, resigning yourself to this. You knew that he wouldn’t feel the same. You didn’t know how terrible he would feel because of it. “Nothing,” you tell him. “I just thought you should know.

He nods, because he knows, and he nods, because he can’t do anything else. 

The fire crackles beside you, s’mores forgotten on the ground as your friends laugh and cheer, distant sounds that echo in your head like white noise. Jimin is all you can think of and right now you’re thinking about what happens next.

“I’m sorry.”

Maybe telling him wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

“Me too.”

Your busted-up sedan revs angrily as you rally up the mountain, shaking your head in an attempt to rid the memories of the campfire from your mind. Unfortunately, the nasty thing about memories is that the more you try to forget them, the more you seem to remember.

You sigh. Something about last summer sucked. 

Nothing about this summer makes you feel like it’ll suck any less.

The good thing about being thirty minutes late is that you’re still thirty minutes earlier than Taehyung, who does not have a single punctual bone in his body. You can count on one hand the amount of instances where he’s actually been on time, all of which are because you and the other counselors conspire to tell him that events are an hour earlier than they actually are just to make sure he doesn’t stroll in an hour late and improperly dressed. 

The bad thing about being thirty minutes late is that everyone besides Taehyung is already here, waiting for you. 

Your sedan crawls to the clearing at the top of the mountain, fighting against gravity and itself as it chugs up the last few feet, coming to a rough stop in the dirt, sunken in from countless tires tracking across it. 

Through your windshield, you can make out two figures with two clipboards, only one of which has something genuinely useful on it. 

“Y/N!” Hoseok cries out excitedly, splaying his arms out as if to hug the entire front of your car only to reveal the near-blank clipboard in his hand. All that’s on it is a neon green Post-it note with a caricature drawing of who you assume to be Yoongi, if the grouchy expression and chef’s hat are anything to go by. There’s no signature or name, but Hoseok’s art skills are on par with those of the campers you work with and Jungkook has a fun and quirky habit of vandalizing all drawable surfaces with pencil sketches of the counselors, so you take a wild guess as to who the artist is. 

You pop the door of your car open and step out into the sticky weather, warm and muggy despite the clouds above. It’s the same as when you step into your bathroom after your two roommates have showered, using up all the hot water and leaving a layer of fog on the mirrors for you to all play hangman on. Only, this steam never goes away. 

“Hoseok!” You cheer, letting the man wrap you up in a sweltering hug, your hands gently patting the top of his back so as not to come in contact with the dampness soaking through his thin cotton t-shirt. You haven’t seen each other for nearly a year, though, so you give in more than you usually would and relax into his hold. “You look good, I like the hair,” you compliment, two fingers coming up to twirl at his bright red locks, deep and vibrant like the cherries you pick. 

“Dyed it just so I could tell the kids I’m a superhero!” Hoseok grins. He’s already heading over to the back of your car to pop the trunk and pull out your duffel bags so that he can park your car in the garage at the other end of the campsite.

“Then who’s the villain?” You call, tossing him your keys.

“I guess that would be me.”

You whip around to find a platinum-blonde Namjoon standing happily before you, looking at least a little bit resigned as he grins at you. His hair is longer this year, like growing it out would somehow compensate for frying it with layer after layer of bleach. And with his silver-white hair and the fact that he is the only counselor any of the kids are genuinely afraid of disobeying, you suppose he would be the antagonist after all. 

“Namjoon, nice to see you again.” You go in for a hug even though Namjoon clearly had no plans on instigating one himself, because someone as hardworking and patient as Namjoon deserves a little platonic affection every one in a while. What, with everyone else constantly conspiring with the campers to oust him every summer. 

The truth is that all of you know that without Namjoon, this camp would be nothing but chaos in its purest form, with the counselors unable to wrangle the kids and the kids using that knowledge to their fullest advantage. Take last year, where everything seemed to go wrong because Namjoon had his stupid internship with a business firm and spent the entire summer drilling finances into his head instead of losing brain cells watching kids eat sand.  

If you had any dignity left you’d blame your rotten confession to Jimin on Namjoon’s absence as well. 

“Nice to see you, too, Y/N,” Namjoon says when you part, checking your name off of the list on his clipboard. “I feel like it’s been ages since I was here.” You can see red marks all over the page, blank only where the name Taehyung is written. 

Some things never change, you suppose. 

“Well, we definitely missed you last year,” You say with a chuckle, trying not to immediately associate your personal misjudgements with the lack of Namjoon, who you can hopefully keep from ever finding out what happened at last year’s end-of-camp counselor campfire. The problem is that Namjoon picks up on social cues and body language like a sociologist, so your only hope is pretending that the campfire never even happened. “Camp was pretty much a mess without you.” In more ways than one.

“Namjoon!” Someone calls. You and him both jerk around to the source of the sound when you see a figure barreling towards the both of you, face obscured in shadow. 

You almost don’t recognize him, with his pitch black hair and thick voice, like he has somehow become a new person in the nine months you’ve gone without seeing him. But the moment he comes into view, you know, and you can’t even pretend to not know, not with the way your heart freezes in place, mid-beat, like the sight of him has turned you to stone. Not with the way that Namjoon is right beside you, and how you don’t think you can bear explaining to him why you and Jimin aren’t as close as you used to be. Not with the way that Jimin looks as beautiful as he always has and always will be, no matter how many summers pass, this timeless portrait, this piece of art that’s come to life. 

There’s a part of you that’s shocked still at seeing him, like you had almost thought that after last summer at least one of you would bail on this shitty summer job, filled with mosquitoes and mud and wifi that only works in the room that doubles as the gymnasium and the mess hall. It’s the same part of you that wants to go back to pretending that nothing ever happened last summer. 

But Jimin is here, in front of you, eyes wide and out of breath and gorgeous, and pretending that last summer never happened is the same as pretending that you never fell in love with him at all.

“The water in the boys’ cabins sinks is green,” he says with a tense smile, making Namjoon nearly smack his clipboard into his forehead. 

“Ugh, seriously?” He asks, and you can’t tell if you’re thankful or hurt that Jimin’s failed to acknowledge you. “Fine,” he scribbles something down on the clipboard, this handwriting scrawl that only he can read, “I’ll figure out what to do with that later. In the meantime, just don’t drink it.”

“Seokjin’s already made lemonade with it, though—”

“Great,” Namjoon says, exasperated as he takes off towards the main cabin, where Seokjin is sitting on the balcony with his feet up on the railing with a glass of suspiciously murky lemonade in his hand, one that he’s offering up to Yoongi with a devilish grin on his face. 

His disappearance leaves only you and Jimin left standing at the entrance, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet in the hopes that one of you will either leave or spare the other the torture of a conversation. 

“Hey,” Jimin says quietly, trying to meet your eyes. 

You look away, pretending to smack an imaginary mosquito on your arm while an actual one bites your leg. “Hey, yourself.”

“It’s been a while.” The last time we saw each other you told me you loved me. 

“Yeah, it has.” I know.

“How are you doing?” Do you still love me, or was the distance and time enough?

“I’m alright. Same old, same old.” I never stopped. “How are you?” What about you? Did you stop seeing us as just friends?

“Doing well, thanks.” No. You’ll always be just a friend to me. Jimin sighs, looking up at the overcast sky with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, taking in the scenery before him. He exhales, long and heavy, before turning to you with a soft little smile, the kind of grin that almost makes you feel like forgetting might not be the best thing to do after all. “I just feel like this summer is a fresh start, you know? Like, I feel like there’s something different about being here this year.”

Maybe this summer, you can learn to move on from me, too. Because something’s gotta give. 

“I hope you’re right about that,” you tell him, because being around him hurts and being away from him makes you replay that night over and over, wondering what would have happened if you had just kept your stupid mouth shut. You open your mouth to say something, anything else, anything to break the ice that didn’t used to be there before, cut between the tension that has settled between the two of you, but your tongue is dry and your heart is sore just looking at him. 

Defeated, you walk over to where Hoseok’s left your duffel bags, hiking them onto your shoulders and heading towards the girls’ cabins, ready to end this conversation before it tears you in two. 

Jimin seems to flounder, standing awkwardly for a few moments as he watches you walk towards the cabins, skirting around him a few feet away because brushing by his side seemed too close for comfort. But then he says, “Hey, Y/N?” 

And it makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to deny him an answer. 

You turn around to look at him, and he offers you a grin. 

“Are we good?”

Your love for me, will it affect our friendship?

You swallow.

It already has. It always has. From the very beginning, loving you was part of our friendship. I don’t know how to be friends with you without it. Even when you didn’t know it, I loved you. In a way, it was easier back then. Telling you was the one thing I shouldn’t have done. 

“Yeah, Jimin,” you tell him. “We’re good.”

The trek to your cabin from the main buildings of the camp is nothing if not familiar. Familiar in the way that the ground curves beneath your feet, leading you up to the top of a small hill where the building sits, looking out over the rest of the clearing. Familiar in how the scent of the woods that surround you fills up your senses, this fresh, airy feeling, like the very oxygen is smothering you. Familiar in how this place reeks of the memories of summers gone by, summers spent beneath the stars and by the campfire. 

Summer memories that make your heart burst with fondness and summer memories that… don’t. 

The fact is that it has always started and ended here. 

When you kick open the door to the cabin, there is only one other occupied bed. It belongs to Hazel, a counselor in her sophomore year in college who joined the crew last year and assumed that the Namjoon-less pandemonium that was camp last summer was just the norm. Hopefully she can take a much-needed break this year now that Namjoon’s back and she’s not the only one fruitlessly trying to cajole the campers into behaving. 

You beeline towards the bunk bed that has been your summer home for the past three years, the one shoved right up against the back right corner, giving you a perfect view of the entire cabin. The downside is that it’s the same corner that spiders seem to prefer as their location of choice for their webs, but better you, a stone-cold college student, than a terrified six-year-old. 

Plopping your duffel bags on top of the mattress, you let out another sigh. You wonder what it is about this summer that is so damn tiring, so exhausting that you can’t help but outwardly exhale every ten seconds, like merely being here is wearing you out, bit by bit. 

You’re looking forward to when the campers arrive tomorrow. Sleeping alone (well, nearly alone) in a cabin feels uncomfortably empty. Plus, you’re hoping that they’ll provide you with some sort of distraction so you don’t have any free time left to spend dwelling on the what-ifs and the should-have-dones. When there’s only a dozen of you, it’s much easier to run into him. 

The moment you collapse on your bed, a messy brown head of hair comes bounding out from the shared bathrooms in the center of the cabin. 

“Y/N!” Hazel cries out, launching herself across the room and into your arms for the tightest hug you’ve had in a long while. 

“Hey, Haze,” you greet in return, offering her a squeeze back. You didn’t often mix in your camp activities, with Hazel in charge of the nature walks and animal conservation activities while you hide in your air-conditioned arts and crafts room, but living together brought upon you a closeness you otherwise don’t share with anyone else. Plus, Hazel keeps a family-sized pack of Oreos and a gigantic jar of smooth peanut butter by her bunk at all times for emergencies. 

“I feel like it’s been so long!” She laments when she finally releases you, looking positively thrilled to be here right now. 

Not long enough, you think to yourself, though you don’t suppose any more time apart from Jimin would make seeing him again any easier. “Yeah, but the year goes by so quickly,” you agree half-heartedly. Too quickly. 

“I’m so excited for this year.” Hazel grins, clapping her hands together. “I have so much planned for all the nature walks and everything. I spent all of last week reading up on edible plants and berries found in this part of the country. I’m gonna teach all of the kids what they can eat in case they get stranded in the forest!”

“Fun,” you say with a hesitant nod. It’s not that you don’t trust Hazel to have done her research, it’s more that, knowing the campers and knowing the counselors, someone’s going to try and get lost in the woods around the camp, eating everything they can. Not to mention the fact that Hazel’s so innocent she’d probably reveal to someone like Seokjin or Jungkook which plants were poisonous without even realizing it. 

Camp last year was a mess, but at least nobody died. 

“Hey, aren’t you excited, too?” She asks, a hand on your shoulder as she notices your reluctance. “Apparently Namjoon’s a great leader so this year isn’t going to be as bad as last year.”

“Last year wasn’t bad just because Namjoon wasn’t here,” you comment vaguely. Hazel doesn’t need to know about all of the drama that goes down between the counselors. Hopefully she can get out of here without being dragged into something by one of you. 

“Well, this year is supposed to be better!” She cheers you on, determined to get you to feel as enthusiastic as she is. “No matter what did or did not happen last summer. Plus, you know that if anything bad happens I always have my secret stash, counselors only.” She winks. 

“Thanks, Haze,” you say, sighing again like it’s your job to be worn out by life. “I think I just need a bit of time to get back into the swing of things.”

“That’s the spirit!” She rallies. “I’m gonna head back to the main camp and see if there’s anything good to drink. I’m thirsty.”

“Stick to soda,” you advise, eyes wide at the thought of her downing anything that Seokjin’s had a sneaky hand in making. 

She doesn’t seem to notice your worry, already bounding towards the door, light on her feet. “I was feeling a Fanta anyway. See you at the camp counselor meeting if I don’t see you around beforehand!” She pulls open the heavy wooden door, half outside when she stops to turn back at you, wagging a finger in the air. “Remember, Y/N, leaves of three, let them be!” 

The door slams shut behind her, creating a cloud of dust in its wake. You watch helplessly as the particles dissipate into the air, as the silence that was once so comforting begins to terrorize you once more. 

You collapse back onto your bunk. If only last summer’s murky green water had poisoned you. Then maybe you’d finally have a good enough excuse for your utter lapse in judgement, and you wouldn’t be sighing so much.

There were no camp counselor meetings last year. There were only haphazard caucuses, irregular get-togethers where no one knew quite what was going on and there were no real announcements to be said, no real orders to be given. You had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone with genuine leadership skills working here. 

The problem last year was not getting everyone into the same room for thirty minutes. It was keeping everyone focused in that same room for thirty minutes, which was essentially impossible because, at your age, submitting to someone of authority is the very last thing you want to do. Especially when the consequences pretty much only amount to having to drink Seokjin’s murky green lemonade.

But like with everything else, Namjoon has, somehow, made the impossible possible. 

“Guys, guys, can we stop drawing on the board, please? I need that,” Namjoon begs as he walks into the room to find Jungkook and Taehyung with chalk in their hands and a chalkboard at their disposal. What they’ve accomplished so far is an expert drawing of Spongebob and Patrick with their faces missing, waiting to be filled in by one of the unlucky people in this room. 

“Okay, so who’s Patrick?” Taehyung asks the audience. 

“Hoseok!” shouts Seokjin.

“You!” shouts Hoseok. 

“Seokjin!” shouts Hazel, too, just because she likes being involved in things. 

Jungkook lets out a cackle at that. “Are you kidding?” He asks. “If anything…” He does a quick sketch on the board, hand flying across it so quickly you’re actually a little bit impressed, “Seokjin would be Plankton.” 

He steps away from the board to reveal a scarily-realistic drawing of Seokjin’s angry face on Plankton’s tiny, antennaed body, making everyone—even Namjoon, who usually tries to keep the roasting between counselors to a minimum—laugh. 

Seokjin scowls, and normally you would feel bad for him always being the butt of Jungkook’s endless jokes, but you can see a half-empty glass of green lemonade by Jungkook’s side, and you decide that he can hold his own just fine. 

“I think you guys would be Spongebob and Patrick,” Jimin pipes up from the back. You freeze, turning your head slightly just to see him sitting on the table pushed up against the wall. You hadn’t even noticed him. Or maybe you had, and your brain just decided to pretend that you hadn’t. 

Nevertheless, hearing his voice doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Jimin’s right,” Jungkook agrees, already beginning to fill in the blank space where Spongebob’s face would normally go with a caricature of his own. “I’d be Spongebob because I have a wider face than you, Tae.”

Taehyung doesn’t object, instead moving his hand to an empty spot on the board. “Yeah. Oh, and Namjoon’s Mr. Krabs, obviously,” Taehyung says, adding his own drawing of Mr. Krabs with Namjoon’s camp get-up on—cargo shorts, a short-sleeved flannel shirt, a baseball cap, and high-tops.

“I would not be—hey, give me that!” Namjoon shouts, indignant, before ripping the chalk from Jungkook’s hands as he cackles wickedly, clearly pleased with himself. Namjoon shoos the both of them away from the board before wiping it with the eraser, which has very obviously not been cleaned since last year, leaving a trail of pale yellow dust in its wake wherever Namjoon drags it across the chalkboard. “Chalkboard for official matters only.” He glares at Jungkook and Taehyung, who high-five each other. 

The chatter soon subsides as Namjoon writes down the meeting to-do list on the board in his same old scratchy handwriting. Namjoon’s one of those people that writes exclusively in capital letters, simply enlarging any letters that actually need to be capitalized. You’re almost one-hundred percent positive it’s to establish written dominance over the rest of the counselors. 

“Okay, first order of business,” Namjoon begins after coughing to get everyone’s attention. “It’s come to my attention that the entire cabin water system is green.”

“Hasn’t it always been—?” Hazel asks, innocent eyes wide in confusion. 

“I called the utilities people and they’re coming tomorrow to fix it, so in the meantime, do not drink the water. Showering and using the bathroom is fine. I would use water bottles for brushing your teeth, though,” Namjoon says, crossing off something on his clipboard as the rest of the counselors murmur in approval. 

“See, this is what happens when Namjoon’s here,” deadpans Yoongi, motioning up to him where he stands at the front of the room. “Shit gets done.”

“Okay, secondly, no swearing in front of the kids,” Namjoon says, adding that onto the board as a final reminder. “The fact that I have to tell you guys this multiple times every year is ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, I can do what I want!” Taehyung shouts, earning a chorus of fuck yeah’s. 

“You guys do know that I have the power to fire you, right?” Namjoon says pointedly, making Taehyung shut his trap. “Okay, moving on. Everyone’s been assigned to the same things that they were assigned to do last year, and if you weren’t here last year, then the year before that.” Namjoon receives some cheers and some groans in response to this, the former mostly from people who work indoors, and the latter mostly from people who don’t. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin whines. “I don’t think Yoongi has stepped foot out of the kitchens in literal years.”

“And I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much!” Yoongi counters. 

“Oh, shut up, at least you get to spend some time indoors teaching all of the kids how to play Hot Cross Buns on their guitars,” Taehyung counters. “I got more mosquito bites than freckles last summer.”

“My students have long advanced from Hot Cross Buns,” Seokjin says proudly and a little bit devilishly. “We’re working on something more technical now.”

“Like what?” Jungkook challenges.

“Okay, continuing…” Namjoon says loudly, eyeing Seokjin suspiciously. “If you’re new, you should have already received notification as to what activities you’re in charge of, but if you’re not sure, come and talk to me.”

“Oh, so Jimin’s still on first aid, then?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you think Y/N’s gonna do to get herself sent down to his tent? Glue her fingers together? Burn herself with a glue gun?”

“Shut up,” You mumble tensely, embarrassed that somehow you and Jimin’s relationship has turned into a counselor affair. 

Last summer, you had accidentally given yourself a palm full of splinters from the birdhouses that you had the campers paint to bring home with them, and the first aid tent is the only place that has bandages. Jimin was there, as he always is, and the two of you spent the evening plucking out all of the pieces of wood from your hand and patching it up with Band-aids that had Spiderman and Moana on them. Contrary to apparently popular belief, it was not on purpose, even though the hour of hand-holding was rather nice. 

“Or Jimin can just find some excuse to visit Y/N in the arts and crafts room,” Seokjin tacks on unhelpfully. “You know, last summer I don’t think I saw them eat lunch in the counselor room at all. They were always finding secret places in the woods.”

“Maybe we were just busy during lunch?” Jimin suggests, clearly equally uncomfortable. 

“Busy fucking, probably,” Taehyung mutters. 

“It’s none of your business,” you snap, because the last thing you want to be talking about right now is how wonderful your relationship with Jimin used to be, when all that’s left this summer are the burned remnants of it, the ashes of something that could have been. You don’t need a reminder of why you thought that you and Jimin would be alright, of why you thought that telling him wouldn’t be that bad. It was terrible, and now all you can do is pick up the pieces, patch together a friendship whose thread has come loose. 

“Alright, let’s keep going,” Namjoon says, picking up the weirdly tense atmosphere and doing his best to bring the attention back to him and the meeting at hand. “You guys should know that this year, Hoseok is thinking of adding in a counselor dance to the end-of-camp show…”

You look over at Jimin, who immediately turns away when he spots your gaze, making to pick at the rips in his jeans, doing anything and everything he can to avoid eye contact with you, and your shoulders sink. 

Jimin had asked you, “Are we good?”

And you had responded, “Yeah, Jimin, we are.”

And the two of you must have both known that was a lie. 

You turn back to face the front, focusing on how Hazel is rubbing your forearm and not asking questions, and you try to feel a little bit better. 

After the meeting, you and Hazel decide to spend the night holed up in your cabin eating from her Oreo stash instead of eating dinner with everyone else, half because it’s only the first day and already being around all of the other counselors is tiring, and half because you don’t think you can handle seeing Jimin any more today, but not before Namjoon stops you on the way out of the door. 

“Y/N,” he says, making you pause in your tracks. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” You ask, hoping to God that it’s not about everyone thinking you purposely injure yourself just so you can see Jimin at the first aid tent. 

“Just quickly, you and me,” Namjoon says casually, pulling you to the corner of the room, away from any windows so no one can see you two talking. “Did today’s meeting make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you lie like a liar. “What are you talking about?”

Namjoon’s too observant for his own good, you decide, when he frowns at you, clearly not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell him. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” he says quietly. “But I know that something happened between you and Jimin.”

You open your mouth to object and tell him that you and Jimin are fine, but Namjoon raises his eyebrows at you, like he’s challenging you to tell him another lie. 

“Well…” you begin, resigning yourself to the truth. “Yeah. Last summer.”

Namjoon purses his lips, nodding in understanding. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You’re not my mom, Namjoon,” you say with a smile, even though maybe telling someone about it might not be a half-bad idea after all. Plus, Namjoon’s your friend and the only one around here who’s any good at keeping secrets, so getting the words off of your chest could be good.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he reminds you, because he’s wonderful like that. 

“No, it’s alright…” you sigh. “I guess someone else has to know.” You close your eyes, willing the words to come up from your throat, willing them to not hurt you as they leave your lips. “Last summer at the campfire I told Jimin that I loved him.”

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. 

“And he doesn’t love me back, which is not the problem because he shouldn’t change how he feels about me just to make me feel better. It’s not his fault, and I’m not angry at him or anything. I knew that he didn’t love me back when I told him,” the words come up like bile, slowly and carefully before spilling out in front of you. “But I was an idiot, and I thought telling him would make me feel better, or something. And it didn’t, because now Jimin and I don’t know how to act around each other anymore, and everything sucks.”

Namjoon offers you a careful, hesitant smile. 

“So yeah. That’s what happened.”

“Sounds like you and Jimin should talk about it,” Namjoon suggests, and maybe he’s smart, and a good leader, and attends a prestigious college along the coast, and studies business and sociology, but that is the worst idea he has ever had. 

“No,” you immediately say, shaking your head. “It’s no big deal. Jimin and I are still friends.”

“Are you, though?” Namjoon asks. 

You sigh, reaching up to rub at your forehead. “Yeah, we are,” you insist, perhaps more to yourself than to Namjoon. He looks skeptical, but doesn’t ask any questions. “It doesn’t even matter. I made a mistake and now I’m gonna deal with the consequences.”

“I can try to get the rest of the boys to stop teasing you and Jimin. I know it must be weird for you both right now,” Namjoon offers, always wanting to help. You scoff. Weird would be the biggest understatement of the century. 

“Jimin and I can handle it,” you say, not wanting to disrupt the rest of the counselor dynamic just because you and Jimin are dealing with things right now. Besides, the teasing has always been in good fun, and you know the boys well enough to know that they aren’t doing it out of malicious intent. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“Just doing my job,” Namjoon says proudly. You stand there in silence for a few more seconds until he coughs awkwardly to fill up the space. “You can go now, by the way, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“I’m fine,” you promise, silently hoping that one day, when you talk to Namjoon, you won’t have to lie to him anymore. “Thanks for checking in.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” he says in that comforting way, that warm way that wraps around you like a mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter night. 

You crack open the door to find Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook tossing around a frisbee on the open lawn as Seokjin and Yoongi watch from a picnic bench, soda cans sitting next to them. Someone must have mentioned the green lemonade. Jungkook purposely tosses the frisbee too high for Jimin to reach, making him jump wildly in a fruitless attempt to grab it. He falls backwards onto the soft grass, laughing alongside Taehyung and Jungkook as Taehyung pulls him back up to his feet. 

You smile to yourself, the longing and the pain and the love settling deep within your heart, finding a home amongst the wishes and the dreams. Seeing him there, the widest smile on his face as he tosses around a frisbee with some of his best friends, letting the rays from the setting sun fill him up with joy, it reminds you why you fell in love with him. It reminds you why you’re still in love with him.

Something seizes up at your heart, clenching it between its fingers. That used to be you, the thing whispers. You used to make him laugh like that. 

You did. From the moment you met him, you let his laughter fill your senses, burned the sound of it into your brain. You used to be so close. You used to think that maybe, just maybe, Jimin might love you back. 

You should have never told him, it murmurs, grip growing tighter. Look at where it got you.

If I could turn back time and redo that night, I would, you fight back. 

But you can’t.

The wicked thing releases your heart, lets it drop to the floor. You don’t pick it up. 

Every year, you and the other counselors keep a scorecard on the chalkboard in the meeting room to see how quickly someone gets sent to the first aid tent, whether it be from stumbling over a twig or contracting poison ivy or drinking the green water. Last year, it took two hours and thirteen minutes. 

This summer, it happens barely an hour after all of the campers have arrived. 

You make a mental note to write down the time on the scorecard as you run over to help the poor boy off of the ground after slamming into a spruce tree while playing an early game of tag with his friends. The side of his cheek is imprinted with the texture of the tree bark, and he has some scrapes on his hands and knees from the fall. 

“Whoa, hey, you alright?” You ask, leaning down to help him up. “You gotta watch where you’re looking, okay? Don’t want you to get hurt.” 

The beauty about young children is that very little actually causes them great pain. If it weren’t for all of the overprotective counselors, the kids would probably run themselves into the cabin walls and trees for the entire duration of camp.

“I’m not hurt,” the young boy says, standing up proudly. “I’m fine. My mom says I have thick skin.”

“What’s your name?”

“Eli,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly. “That’s my cabin.” He points to the one to the west of the camp that Taehyung and Jungkook are in charge of. Why Namjoon continuously assigns them to the same cabin year after year is beyond you. Once, they convinced everybody in their cabin that Seokjin and Yoongi’s cabin was haunted, and the only solution was to out-scare the ghosts by yelling and screaming right outside. 

“Is this your first year at camp?”

“Yup,” Eli says, rocking back and forth on his feet. He is not at all fazed by the blood and broken skin on his hands and knees, nor the pieces of wood and bark sticking out of the side of his face. 

“Alright, Eli, even though you have thick skin, I have to take you to the first aid tent. Really quickly, okay? Just to make sure you aren’t gonna get an infection. Then you can go and tell all of your friends how thick your skin,” you say, already beginning to usher Eli towards the first aid tent.  

“I think I have the thickest skin out of everyone here,” Eli says, as if goading you on. 

“You know what? I have to agree with you,” you say. “I get hurt really easily. My mom always says that I need to be extra careful here.”

“I’m sick of listening to my mom,” Eli pouts, stomping on the ground as you lead him towards the first-aid tent. 

“Me too,” you agree. No point in telling him that he needs to yield to his parents when he probably won’t even remember this conversation by the time he wakes up tomorrow. Besides, it’s never too early to begin teaching kids about rebelling against authority figures. “But you won’t have to listen to everything I say, okay? We’re just gonna be really good friends.”

“Like with my babysitter,” Eli says. 

“Exactly,” you say, stopping right outside of the first-aid tent. You’re not even positive that anyone’s inside, especially since it’s barely been an hour since camp officially started. Hopefully, Jimin’s somewhere else so you can just patch Eli up yourself. 

The first aid tent is not so much a tent as it is a shed with a fabric entrance, two curtains attached to a rod above the entryway to provide some semblance of privacy since nobody in the camp is handy enough to actually install a working door. But calling it the first aid tent is better than calling it the first aid shack, which, in the wise words of Yoongi, makes it sound like “a hospital where people go to die.”

When you push open the curtain, the first thing you notice is Jungkook and Seokjin in the far left corner, each with ice packs and suspiciously identical markings on them. They’re both making desperate attempts to patch each other up, fighting with the gauze and bandages that are laid out on the table beside them, as if in a competition to see who can better take care of the other. 

Besides that, Jimin is lounging along the wall, leaning back against it as he gazes into nothing, deeply lost in thought. His eyes trace the lines of the shed, foot tapping to an imaginary beat, brows furrowed. You wonder what the hell it is that Jimin could possibly be thinking about so intently, what it is that is making him not even pay attention to the two overgrown children in the corner of his tent, attacking each other with first-aid materials. 

Watching him, you almost don’t want to disturb him. Almost want to grab one of the kits on the shelf by the doorway and pull Eli outside, partly because you don’t think Jimin absolutely needs to be present for you to clean Eli’s wounds and give him some Spiderman Band-aids, and partly because you don’t think you can bear having to say hello to him. 

Eventually, and only because Eli would start thinking it was weird you weren’t talking to each other (and not because a part of you just wants to hear his voice again), you take another step forward, coughing. 

“Wha— oh, hi,” Jimin says, the sound of your arrival breaking him out of his trance. He rubs at the nape of his neck, clearly trying to brush off any awkwardness. “How can I help you guys?” His voice is unrecognizable. 

“Eli here crashed into a tree while playing tag,” you say tensely, doing your best to look around the room, anywhere else, literally anywhere else, just so you don’t have to look at him. “I just brought him here to make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m fine,” Eli insists. 

“Well, Eli, we just have to double check that,” Jimin says comfortingly, reaching down to bring Eli over to one of the benches. He sits him down and kneels so that he can be at eye-level with him, and says, “Sometimes our bodies say that they’re alright even when they really aren’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin meets your gaze, looking at you like there’s nothing left that you can do, looking at you like there is so much that he wants to say but no way to tell you. 

You open your mouth, willing for the words to come out, but your throat is dry and your heart is pounding in your ears, a painful thud with every breath that you take. He must have known that what you said was a lie. He must have known what you were going to say when he asked, but he asked anyway, not to get the truth but to see where your relationship stands. 

As it seems, your relationship doesn’t seem to be standing at all. 

It lies in front of you, shattered into a million pieces like a broken mirror, cursed but still doing its job, still showing you this fragmented reflection of yourself. Mixed together like this, you can’t see where your friendship ends and your love began. Mixed together like this, it is impossible to repair. 

“Y/N—” Jimin begins. 

“I should go,” you say at the same time, making the two of you stop in your tracks once again. “Thanks for, uh, patching Eli up. Just make sure he gets to the mess hall in time for dinner.”

“I will,” Jimin says with a nod. There is so much that he wants to say but you don’t think you can bear listening to another word come out of his mouth, to another apology for not loving you back when it wasn’t even his fault to begin with. 

You ruined your friendship but Jimin seems to think that he is the one to blame. 

“I’ll see you at dinner?” Jimin asks. 

You look back at him, wanting so desperately to say yes, to pretend that everything is back to normal, to act like this is the beginning of last summer instead of this one, where you loved him and he didn’t know and everything was alright. But you can’t, because it’s not last summer. It’s this one, and you still love him but he knows now. He fucking knows and just thinking about it makes your heart shake in its cage, holding itself together but unable to stop itself from cracking from within.

Jimin must have known you wouldn’t have agreed. Why did he ask?

“Wait, Y/N, hold up!” 

You’re already halfway out of the makeshift door when you turn around to see Jungkook barrelling after you, leaving Seokjin in the dust as he joins you outside, pulling you away from the entrance instinctively. No one has ever been particularly good at keeping secrets here. 

“Can I help you, Jungkook?” You ask, blinking at him, trying to act as normal as possible. 

“Are you alright?” He leans in close, looking into your eyes, concern washed over his features. 

“Everybody seems to be asking me this,” you say, acting like you don’t know why. “I’m fine.”

Jungkook, for all of his wide-eyed innocence, for the way that he views the world as perfectly imperfect, doesn’t buy it. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says. “I don’t know what went down between you and Jimin.”

“Nothing happened,” you say, forcing a laugh just so you don’t sound miserable. 

“Whatever it is, I just want you to know that it doesn’t always have to be like this,” he says, reaching out to take your hand in his own, his calloused thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin. “But you should be honest with your feelings, don’t you think?”

“You and Namjoon both think that I don’t have a handle on this, when I do.” You don’t. And being honest with your feelings is what got you into this mess in the first place. 

“Come on, Y/N, you don’t think we haven’t noticed, have you?” He asks, soft and sad and desperate to get through to you. 

“It’s no big deal,” you insist. “Jimin and I are alright. We’ve always been alright.”

“If you say so…” says Jungkook, no less skeptical than he was when he initiated this conversation. 

“Are we done here?” You ask, already pulling your hand from his grasp so you can go back to your cabin and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, resigned as he lets you go. “But you know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

“I know, Jungkook,” you promise, because he always has and he always will be. “Thanks for looking out for me.” You begin to scurry away from the first aid tent, praying that Jimin didn’t hear you and Jungkook and wishing that everything was the way that it used to be.

“Be honest!” Jungkook shouts when you’re a hundred feet away, rushing back towards your cabin. 

Jungkook wants you to be honest?

Telling Jimin that you love him ruined your life. It ruined camp, it ruined your friendship, and it ruined your future. Seeing him now makes your heart ache and your brain dizzy. Every night you replay that conversation in your head, over and over, wondering if there was something that you could have done differently, something that you could have changed so you wouldn’t have ended up like this. Jimin wants to be friends again but you don’t know how to do that without him feeling guilty for not loving you back. 

You want to be honest?

Jimin makes you feel like there is a fire beneath your skin that you can’t extinguish, the flames creeping towards your heart. 

The only solution, it seems, is to smother them. 

The worst part about being in love with Jimin is that he’s impossible to avoid. 

You peer into the mess hall to see if lunch that day is any good and you see him laughing at a table surrounded by elementary schoolers munching on hot dogs and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You go hunting in the storage shed for some extra packs of popsicle sticks and find him cleaning out the old flower pots to use in the greenhouse. You lead your group of campers from the arts room to the lake and see him and Taehyung setting up the net for some friendly water polo, laughing as they try to tie each other up in the rope. 

It feels like you’re watching a movie unfold in real time, one where he is the star and you are nothing but a background character, the desperate loser who confessed to him in the beginning of the film just to develop his character arc, make him seem personable and relatable, then forgotten about until the end when you spot each other on the street and nod silently to each other, as if to say you’ve both inexplicably reached a peace between the two of you. 

Is that what the future holds for you? A wordless camp, an empty conversation? Will you simply go the rest of the summer without speaking, then nod to each other right before you leave? Will this be the last time you ever see each other?

The worst part about being in love with Jimin is knowing that just because you want things to be different doesn’t mean they will be. Just because you want Jimin to love you back doesn’t mean he will. Just because you want everything to go back to normal doesn’t mean they will. 

As it turns out, love confessions don’t always end in fireworks.

Park Jimin is impossible to avoid not only because he’s everywhere but also because he is everybody’s best friend, the campers’ favorite counselor and the counselors’ favorite companion. He is kind and thoughtful and electric. He is magnetic. He makes others laugh without even trying, he names the plants in the greenhouse after the people he loves, he stays behind after activities to clean up when no one else will. 

Falling in love with Jimin wasn’t you picking out your favorite traits of his, wasn’t you seeing him do one selfless thing and deciding that he could do no wrong. It was submerging yourself in the lake, little by little before you dive in headfirst. It was catching glimpses of his goodness until you were consumed by it. It was knowing that you prefer yourself when you’re around him.

Falling in love with Jimin was like the heat in summer—endless. 

If only falling out of love with him would be just as easy. 

The weather has been unusually nice today. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the sun beats down on you, rays peeking through the tall branches and leaves of the spruce and oak trees that surround you, casting hazy shadows on the grass beneath your feet. It isn’t too muggy, isn’t too sticky and sweaty, this perfect medium between warm and hot, between dry and humid. It’s the sort of day that you romanticize every day of summer being, only to realize that summer actually consists of sweating through three different t-shirts and needing to eat your ice cream in ten seconds before it melts into a puddle on the concrete. 

Nonetheless, camp policy has always been that when it’s a beautiful day, the campers are going to spend every hour they’re awake outside, going on nature walks and playing capture the flag and eating watermelon on the splinter-y picnic benches. It’s nice, because it gives you a break from having to tell the kids not to touch the tips of the glue guns, but it also stinks, because it forces you to leave your sweet, air-conditioned paradise in favor of a mosquito-infested summer hell. 

Luckily, the kids have been washing off the summer heat in the cool water of the lake with the counselors that actually prefer being outside, playing volleyball in the shallows or canoeing out where it’s deeper. Sometimes, you wonder why Namjoon will let so few counselors supervise so many campers, and sometimes, you decide that it’s better them than you. 

You take a seat on the picnic bench by Yoongi, who is drinking notably clearer lemonade than in days past, so you assume that Namjoon got the water problem fixed like he promised. The two of you have never been outdoorsy people. Why you’ve been working at a summer camp for the last three years escapes you both. You and him lean back against the edge of the built-in table. From here, you have a perfect view of the lake, clear and blue and filled to the brim with rambunctious children, keeping at least somewhat of a watch over them so that Namjoon can’t shout at either of you for slacking off. 

“You know that Seokjin gave you murky water lemonade earlier, right?” You ask, just to make conversation. 

“I know,” Yoongi says, wholly unfazed. He takes another sip and sighs, feeling refreshed. Without batting an eyelash, he deadpans, “You know that you and Jimin aren’t going to get any better if you don’t talk to each other, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You scoff, playing dumb. 

“Just because all of those other idiots didn’t hear what went down between you and Jimin last summer doesn’t mean I didn’t,” Yoongi mutters monotonously. 

You jerk up, stick straight at his words, eyes wide as you glare at him. He heard you?

Yoongi laughs at your reaction, reclining back impossibly farther. “Relax, I haven’t told anyone. You know it’s none of my business.”

“Well,” you sputter out, “if it’s none of your business then why are you talking to me about it?”

Yoongi frowns. “Because you’re my friend, Y/N. And I hate seeing you like this,” he says, that soft lilt to his voice peeking through the rigid words spilling from his lips. “I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore. A lot of the other counselors do.”

You purse your lips together, guilty. 

“Especially Jimin.”

“I just need time,” you say, trying to be honest for once in your life. Loving Jimin was never going to go away without a fight. 

“You need to talk to each other,” corrects Yoongi. 

“Talking is what got us into this mess,” you huff out, dejected. Yoongi heard it himself—your confession sent you and Jimin’s relationship down the garbage chute. 

“And talking is what’s going to get you out of it,” Yoongi tells you pointedly, truthfully, in that horrible way where you know that he’s right but refuse to accept it. “Promise me you’ll try?” He reaches out to place a hand atop yours, looking into your eyes with hopeful promise. “We want you back.”

“I’ll try,” you sigh out, because it’s never been worth fighting with Yoongi. Not when he cares so deeply. 

“Try what?”

You and Yoongi whip your heads around to find Jimin standing on the opposite side of the picnic bench, helping himself to a piece of sliced watermelon. 

“Try enjoying the outdoors more,” Yoongi covers for you instantly, making you breathe out a little sigh of relief. “We both hate when Namjoon makes it an outside day.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jimin says with a smile. The only reason Jimin doesn’t mind it is because he gets the best of both worlds—half the day spent inside the first-aid tent, the other spent inside the greenhouse by the woods. “There’s beauty in everything.”

Yoongi scrunches up his nose. “Like that?”

In the distance, you spot three things: Jungkook and Taehyung, laughing evilly as they run down along the rocky beach. The clothes clutched in their hands, crumpled up in their grasps while they hoot and holler. And Seokjin, hair sopping wet and half-naked, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and ugly lime green water shoes on, chasing after them. 

“I’m out,” Yoongi says without missing a beat, grabbing his lemonade and dashing off to safety. Yoongi’s exit leaves you and Jimin standing there, stranded, frozen in place, as Jungkook and Taehyung rush by you, each grabbing a piece of watermelon on their way. Something falls from Jungkook’s hold as they pass you, and Jimin reaches down to pick it up. It’s one of Seokjin’s socks. 

“Give that back, Park Jimin!” Seokjin’s banshee screech rings in your ears. 

“Run,” Jimin says, and you don’t get another say in the matter before Jimin is grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him, Seokjin’s angry caws echoing throughout the clearing. 

Even though Jimin didn’t even actually steal his clothes from the locker room by the lake, Seokjin has determined that anyone who runs from him is automatically guilty, thus lumping both you and him into a wild goose chase alongside Jungkook and Taehyung, who are almost always the guilty parties when it comes to practical jokes like this. For a few moments, it’s the four of you running across the open field with Seokjin hot on all of your heels, desperate to catch up to at least one of you despite being severely out-matched, both in athletic ability and footwear, and then suddenly Jimin is pulling you behind the shed as Jungkook and Taehyung make a sharp right, headed in the opposite direction. 

Crouched behind the shed, you and Jimin stop for a minute to catch your breath, chests heaving after doing more exercise in the last thirty seconds than you have in the last week alone. You’re pressed up against the back siding, and only after your heart rates finally slow down do you become faintly aware of Jimin’s hand still gripping your wrist, like he’s simply forgotten to let go. 

“You think we lost them?” He asks with a wicked grin, and it’s impossible to avoid his gaze when he’s so close like this, when there’s barely a foot of space between your bodies, when his fingertips still press against your skin. 

“I think so,” you heave out in response. 

“Better stay here for a bit longer just in case,” Jimin says, and it’s the flirty sort of thing that he would say if it were last year, the flirty sort of thing that he would say if you two were friends like you used to be, but you aren’t anymore, and now it feels like Jimin is trying too hard and you aren’t trying hard enough. 

“I… I mean,” you say, pulling your wrist out of his grasp, rubbing at where your skin sizzles from his touch. “We’re probably fine.”

“Are we?” He asks, and this is exactly why you shouldn’t try to talk to him, exactly why talking won’t erase the tension that has settled between you two, repair the cracks in what you are. You’re not fine, because everything changed when you told Jimin that you loved him, and you’ve never been good at adjusting. You’re not fine, because for the first time in your years-long relationship, loving him is getting in the way. 

“I hope we are,” you admit, more to yourself than anyone else. Oh, how you so desperately wish that things were back to normal. Oh, how it would be so easy if only things were just a little bit different. 

“Me too,” Jimin says, and he smiles and, oh, how it makes you feel real and true and whole. He stands back up and reaches an arm out to help you do the same. For once, it doesn’t feel like a Band-aid on top of a stab wound. It feels like a lifeline. 

You let Jimin help you back to your feet, and for some reason your heart feels just a little bit lighter. 

“You think we’re alright?” Jimin asks. 

“Yeah,” You respond with a nod. “I think we will be.”

One thing that Namjoon is big on is interdisciplinary recreation. This is half due to the fact that he attends a private liberal arts school on the east coast and half due to the fact that he doesn’t always trust some of the counselors when it comes to chaperoning a whole group of kids on their own. You aren’t going to name names, but they’re the same people that steal clothes for fun. 

He’s got a list up on one of those massive sheets of lined paper filled with suggestions for all sorts of things that combine two or more of the basic activities the camp offers, ranging from making handmade bird seed treats in the kitchen to put out on nature walks to dodgeball in canoes. Some of Namjoon’s ideas are a lot more feasible than others. 

Namjoon’s never been a pushy person. He’s repeatedly said that he purposely avoids telling people what to do within their activity sectors because he doesn’t want the counselors to think that he’s stepping all over them or doesn’t trust them to come up with their own entertainment. The list in the counselor meeting room is titled: ACTIVITY SUGGESTIONS, bolded and circled, just so everyone knows that he isn’t forcing you to do anything (if you’re being honest, the emphasis on suggestions somewhat works against his whole niche). But sometimes, especially for someone whose greatest fear is stripping away others’ creative freedom, he can be rather insistent. 

Take, for example, the two stacks of plain flower pots left anonymously inside the arts and crafts room when you walk in to set up the activity for the day. You were originally going to have the younger kids color in their own guitars to hang up in the music room—an activity that was not on the activity suggestions list—and give the older ones some clay and let them go to town, but you suppose that decorating flower pots will be just as entertaining. At least you didn’t have to go hunting for the materials. 

The only problem with decorating flower pots is that, once the campers have painted streaks and polka dots and glued charms all over them, the flower pots have a rather specific place to go. A place that is part of a notable Park Jimin’s domain. 

A sneaky little feeling beneath your skin suspects that someone may have let it slip to Namjoon that you and Jimin could do with a bit of relationship repair. And Namjoon and Yoongi have been bunking in the same cabin for as long as you can remember. 

Sighing to yourself as you begin to set up the flowerpots on old newspapers spread out on the wooden tables, you decide that spending an hour with Jimin in the greenhouse (maybe even less if you can find an excuse to get yourself out of there!) couldn’t be any worse than being crouched down behind that cobwebbed old shed with his hand on your wrist and his eyes gazing into yours. At least you’ll have thirty campers to maintain the distance between the two of you. 

You suppose that you do have the easier of the two jobs. Arts and crafts is a rather simple activity to oversee, barring the occasional papercut or glue gun burn. Luckily, painting flower pots means that you will really only have to worry about the campers mod-podging their fingers together, and even then, the bathroom is just down the hall. Jimin, with his having to wrangle the kids to garden neatly and not hit each other with the trowels, is going to have it much harder. 

There’s a part of you that knows you’ll stick around. Not just to lessen the load of campers for him, but just so you can spend a little more time in the same room, breathing the same air, pretending that things are the way that they used to be. 

When you leave the arts and crafts room to hike the ten minutes to the greenhouse, followed by all of the campers dutifully carrying their brand new flowerpots in their hands, you feel like a young bird leaving the nest. Taught to fly little by little, but one day forced to face the real world and exist without the safety net you’ve called home for so long. The arts and crafts room hasn’t always been your favorite place in the camp, but this year it’s felt like you’ve been holding on particularly tight.

Jimin is already waiting happily in the greenhouse for your arrival, this stupid old gardening apron tied around his waist with a faded picture of a cartoon cactus on the front that says free hugs. He watches fondly as all of the kids shuffle into the greenhouse, the whole room just barely big enough to fit all of you, wide eyes peeking out from behind seed packets and green leaves. 

You stay in the back corner as Jimin gets to work, having all of the campers place their pots on the tables in front of them, bright plastic buckets of soil at the ends of their tables, flower seeds waiting to be planted. 

As much as Jimin is fantastic at patching kids up inside the first aid tent, the greenhouse is where he really belongs. The harsh rays of the sun are softened by the glass walls as they beam down on him, surrounding him with this warm yellow halo, painting him into the scenery behind him. Here, amongst the lush vegetables and flowers and ferns, Jimin doesn’t look like an underpaid camp counselor carrying the weight of thirty children on his back. He looks like this fairy in the woods, this forest sprite that has grown up amongst the trees and the moss and the wildflowers, who has learned to tend to the world’s greatest garden. He looks like someone whose mere presence makes the plants smile a little wider. 

Jimin’s like that with everyone. It should come as no surprise to you that the plants feel better when they’re around him, too. 

Jimin has always been so good with kids. More so than any of the other counselors, really, though they all try their best to be fun and friendly and gentle and stern all at once. But there’s something in Jimin’s nature that just makes him the best at it, something about the way he cares for them so deeply, something about the soft lines of his face that earns him their trust the fastest. He’s good with everything that camp throws at him, from frisbees to murky water to lake monsters, but nothing has ever seemed quite as right for him as his connection with the campers. 

The children don’t know how lucky they are to know someone like Jimin. Someone who believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of others, someone who will stop at nothing to fix what has been broken. 

You think about how lucky you are to love someone like Jimin every day of your life.

“Mr. Jimin?” A squeaky little voice pipes up. It’s a young girl named Zoe, whose flower pot is decorated with a painting of her entire family, a group of four stick figures with red shirts and purple dresses holding hands together, loopy smiles drawn onto their faces. 

“Just Jimin, alright?” Jimin corrects. 

“Are you sure these seeds are going to turn into flowers?” Zoe asks, looking skeptically at the packets in front of her. 

Jimin laughs, and it is as warm as the rays of the sun that stream through the glass walls. “I can’t promise that they will, Zoe.”

“Then why are we doing this?” She pouts. 

“Because,” Jimin says, pointing to the packets in front of the campers, “the only way that I can promise that these seeds will turn into flowers is if you guys can promise to love them. Because no matter how much sun they get, no matter how much you water them, they will only bloom if you really, really love them.”

“How do they know?” Another girl pipes up. 

“Flowers are just like us,” Jimin tells her gently. “They can feel when they’re loved, and they love us back by blooming for us.” He shuffles around the back of the greenhouse where he stands, fishing through the shelves lining the walls until he emerges with a rather large pot in his hands, placing it down on the table beside him with a thud. “Take this hydrangea, for example.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the blue flowers flashing before your eyes. 

You planted those together. Last summer. You and Jimin snuck out to the greenhouse while everyone else was eating potato salad for lunch and spent the hour listening to pop songs from the eighties and planting a baby hydrangea. 

They will bloom every year, Jimin said. 

So they’ll always remind us of us, you responded. 

It’s the first time that you and Jimin have looked at each other since you entered the greenhouse. He catches you off-guard, eyes wide as you stare back at him, suddenly feeling this gut-wrenching ache from deep within your belly. And Jimin—

God, Jimin looks like he’s tried everything under the sun and moon to keep that damn hydrangea from wilting. 

“They were planted early last summer. And they bloomed, right? But they look so sad,” Jimin explains, rallying himself and turning his gaze away from you. “And I gave them new soil and watered them regularly, but I’m still missing something.”

“Love!” Zoe shouts. 

“Right,” Jimin says with a tense nod, eyes flickering to yours once more. Your shoulders slump. “But I have a lot of love to give, so hopefully they’ll be alright soon. You guys just have to remember that love is the most important thing that you can give to your flowers. Just like you and me, the flowers need to know that there is someone who loves them.”

But you do know, you want to shout out to him. You’ve known this whole summer and you knew back at the campfire and you probably knew even before that. You’ve known for so long and still the flowers that we planted together are fucking wilting. Like they can’t even bear that this is what we’ve come to. What do you mean, they need to know that there is someone who loves them? You do. And I love you. You must know that, don’t you?

You feel the vines of a thorny rose wrap around your heart, clenching it tight. It’s been in bloom for a year now, thick red petals filling up the empty spaces between your bones, nectar swimming within your veins. And when you picked it, cut it off at its stem to place in Jimin’s hand, it grew only stronger, bloomed only harder.

Oh, if only that hydrangea knew how much you loved him. 

Afterwards, you stay back to help clean up. There’s soil all over the floor, buckets knocked over in the campers’ frenzy to go play games in the gym with Jungkook, discarded paper seed packets and trowels left littered across the tables. 

Jimin doesn’t put on any eighties music. Instead, you stand there in silence, brushing the leftover soil into dust pans and buckets, placing the gardening tools on the rack by the entrance. 

Even though you know flowers don’t wilt that fast, it feels like with every second that passes, the hydrangea is a moment closer to death. The color seems to fade every time you look at them, going from its vibrant pale blue to a sallow green, no longer able to tolerate being in the same room as the two of you. 

Your love doesn’t seem like it’s going to fix it this time. 

“I didn’t know that it was doing so badly,” you say, and the words don’t even feel like they belong to you when you hear them back, making Jimin stop dead where he stands. 

“What?” He asks. 

“The hydrangea.”

Jimin looks over at the pot on the table, and he sighs, helpless. “I’ve tried everything. It just doesn’t seem to be working with me this year.”

It’s no secret to the both of you why. 

“Hopefully you can figure something out,” you offer alongside a half smile. “I would hate to see them die after only a year in bloom.”

“Me too,” Jimin sighs. 

“How have you been?” You ask him, because you never really did get a real answer when you asked him that very first day. And because no matter what you do, you’ll always be curious about him. 

“Alright,” Jimin says, and it’s not a lie. “I’m looking forward to graduating next year.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, even though you’re only looking forward to the not-being-in-college part of graduating. Not so much the being-chucked-into-the-real-world part. “How’s the major coming along?”

“Well, physics never gets any easier,” Jimin jokes, and even though it’s a little bit forced it makes the two of you both laugh, desperate to get back to the way that things used to be, step by step. “What about you? Still going for English?”

“With a side of business so that I don’t end up a broke poet,” you remind him. “But yeah.”

“Maybe you can write me into one of your stories,” Jimin suggests. 

Oh, but doesn’t he know already? He’s the main character in every single one. All of your poems are about him. He is your inspiration and your muse. He fills up each blank page all on his own. Doesn’t he know? 

“Maybe,” you agree, even though there has never been a ‘maybe’ when it comes to him.

You nearly drop the plastic bucket of soil on your toe when you hear his next question. 

“Have you, uh, been seeing anyone lately?” Jimin scratches at the nape of his neck, clearly nervous. Your heart sinks. Out of all of the possible questions he could ask you to keep this relatively casual conversation going, he chooses that one? 

You look up at him, wondering why on earth he’s asking you this when your love has already been laid out bare in front of him, every corner unfolded so he can read across the lines like a map, memorize the splotches of color. You look up at him and you are helpless, desperate for him to realize that even with thousands of miles and hundreds of days between you, for you, it has always been him.

You wonder if the only reason he’s asking is to see if you were starting to move on. 

“No,” you mutter lifelessly. “I haven’t.” And then, like a devilish whisper in your ear, “Have you?”

You almost expect him to say yes. You almost expect to hear him recount all of the fantastic dates he’s been on, all of the loving relationships he’s been in, but instead, he says, “Me neither.”

And that? That makes your heart stop dead in its tracks. 

“I tried to, you know,” Jimin says, and each word is a puncture wound inside of you. “But I just couldn’t. Nothing really stuck.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you tell him, because you are. Because Jimin deserves to love someone who will love him back. Someone that isn’t you, someone who hasn’t been hopelessly pining after him for a year. 

“No, it’s alright.” Jimin shrugs. “I’m kind of glad that nothing stuck.”

And if hearing the words “me neither,” leave his lips made your heart freeze up, then hearing these words set it aflame. You don’t respond, instead choosing to let the words etch themselves into your memory, carve themselves into your heart, give you hope, if only a droplet of it. Any is enough to have your heart beating a little faster.

“I miss this,” Jimin breathes out, and if you closed your eyes and pretended that you were somewhere else it would almost sound like a confession. You glance up at him, and he is so empty, clinging hopelessly onto the remnants of things past just like you, and you realize that being honest is really the only option you have left. “I miss doing stuff like this.” 

The with you goes unspoken, but it rings loud and clear in your ears anyway. 

“I miss it too,” you say, because Jimin must know already, doesn’t he? How if you could choose to go on loving him without him ever knowing, then you would do it in an instant? How loving him silently was painful but loving him like this, unbearable. “I feel like it’s been a long time.”

A long time since you both really spoke to each other. A long time since you were friends the way you used to be. A long time since you first began to love him.

“Can’t we go back?” Jimin asks, a foolish question. He should know better than to ask for something he already knows he can’t get. 

“You know we can’t,” you tell him. You’ve already tried.

“Then can we begin again?” He proposes, the two of you meeting in the middle of the greenhouse, right in front of the hydrangea. You hadn’t even realized you were barely three feet away from him until you were already there. “Please? I miss us, Y/N. Don’t you miss us, too?”

Gazing at Jimin, you feel your heart tremble. One thing that hasn’t changed is how weak you are to his touch, to his eyes, to the way that they make every part of you feel like jelly, feel like you’ll collapse without him to hold you up. You’ve never been able to say no to him. It’s one of the things you don’t think you’ll ever outgrow. 

“We can try,” you say, because being honest may be hard, and talking even harder, but now you would rather try to piece yourselves back together than spend the rest of the summer wondering what to do with the shattered remains on the floor, stepping around them instead of cleaning them up, repairing what has been broken. 

It’s like the words are music to Jimin’s ears, the way he lights up, grinning wide and real and true. He inhales and it feels like a breath of fresh air, like a brand new season has come to rest upon the two of you. It feels like relief. It feels like hope. It feels like new.

You hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve been dying to make him smile. 

Next to you, the hydrangea seems just a little bit brighter. 

It’s getting easier. 

No longer are you turning in the opposite direction whenever you see him hanging around the center of camp, praying that he hasn’t spotted you from where you stand. Nor are you making excuses about having to go help Namjoon with something or run back to your cabin whenever he shows up to spend time with you and the other counselors. 

And even though it’s still a little tense when you accidentally look up at the same time and meet eyes, even though it still feels like you two aren’t quite the same, it’s getting easier. 

You’ve even begun to eat lunch together again. 

It’s not exactly like it was before, not like when you would scurry off to the greenhouse or the shed or some other hidden place, spread out a picnic blanket and bask in each other’s company, laughing about anything and everything, but it’s better. It’s better than how it used to be, when you would always bring your lunch back to your cabin to eat in silence, drown yourself in your comforter and your thoughts, letting them pile on top of you, one by one. It’s better than how you used to pretend that you didn’t even know each other. 

Slowly, step by step, things have almost started to feel normal again. 

“You guys seem happier lately,” Taehyung commends mindlessly as he sits down across from you and Jimin, three pieces of meat lover’s pizza on the paper plate he sets on the tabletop. 

You and Jimin smile at each other. You suppose that you have been.

“Three, Tae?” The moment gone too soon, Jimin’s focus is immediately redirected to the behemoth meal in front of Taehyung. “Seriously? Aren’t you lactose intolerant?”

“The meat balances it out,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly, even though it definitely doesn’t. He takes an enormous bite out of one of the slices, eating nearly half the pizza in a single chomp. “But seriously, I mean it. You guys look a lot happier. Yoongi!”

Yoongi freezes in his tracks from where he’s walking by your table, spilling his open soda can all over his plate of pizza at Taehyung’s shout of his name. 

“Don’t you think that Jimin and Y/N seem happier?” Taehyung asks, motioning to the both of you. 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says with a shrug, aloof as always. You chuckle to yourself, knowing fully well that it was him who got Namjoon to leave two stacks of flower pots in the arts and crafts room to give you an extra push towards talking with Jimin. Taehyung huffs, disappointed but not surprised that Yoongi contributed so little to the conversation, but he doesn’t notice how Yoongi gives you a smile and a thumbs up as he heads over to where Namjoon and Hoseok are sitting. 

“Well, I think you guys do,” Taehyung says pointedly. 

“Did we seem… unhappy to you?” Jimin asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“No,” says Taehyung. “I don’t know, you guys just seemed different. You know, I was talking with Jin and he and I were convinced that the two of you were dating last year and then broke up sometime before this summer because you guys were acting so weird earlier.”

“Really?” You ask, cracking an awkward smile just to keep the mood light because god, Taehyung really is a lot more observant than you give him credit for. “That’s so funny, honestly.” It’s not. “You know that we’re just friends, Tae.”

Next to you, Jimin is staring down his lunch like it’s insulted his family. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, goddamnit, anything that will make you feel like you’re not the only one who wants you two to be friends again. Anything that will remind you that being friends is all you have left because he will never love you back. 

“You could have fooled me,” Taehyung acknowledges. “Seokjin was pretty convinced, too. We even had a bet going to see which one of you would admit it first.”

“You guys bet on us?” Jimin asks, a little horrified and a lot of something else, something that you can’t quite place. 

“Not with money!” Taehyung defends. “Marshmallows for the end-of-camp counselor campfire. But neither of you ever said anything so we ended up just dropping it and ate as many marshmallows as we wanted.”

Oh, if only Taehyung knew. Oh, if only he had heard you that night, heard you pour your heart out in front of that fire. Oh, if only he had noticed, noticed the warm yellow glow that made Jimin look like he had been bathed in candlelight, noticed those roasted marshmallows over the heat, noticed the words that replay in your head like a broken record. 

There’s a part of you that wants to know who Taehyung was betting on. A part of you that is wondering why on earth would either of them ever assume that Jimin would be the one to confess first when he has only ever seen you as a friend and you have always seen him as something more. Seen him as this dream come to life, seen him as the answer to all of your prayers. 

Jimin never would have confessed first. That hasn’t changed. 

“Thinking back, it was kind of stupid of us to bet on you guys when you hadn’t even confirmed anything,” Taehyung says with a sigh, pursing his lips together tightly. “I don’t know. I guess that Seokjin and I both really, really wanted you guys to get together.” He chuckles, but it isn’t funny anymore.

Believe me, Tae, you think to yourself. You guys weren’t the only ones.

“Eh,” Taehyung hums, shrugging to himself. He clearly isn’t as caught up about it as you and Jimin, who wonder every day how different things would be if you had just kept your damn mouth shut that night, if you had never loved him in the first place. “I guess I’m just glad to see you both smiling again.”

“Thanks, Tae,” you say, because even if Taehyung doesn’t know the whole story he’s still hit the nail on the head, and even if he can’t pick up the way that Jimin’s body has tensed up beside you, even if he doesn’t notice how normal feels like the furthest thing to describe the two of you right now, he has always wanted the both of you to be content.

“Makes me kinda sad to know you guys are just friends, even though I’m obviously not going to force you into anything.” Taehyung takes another bite of his pizza, the words just conversational to him even if they clearly aren’t to either of you.

Slowly, Jimin looks back up from his lunch, like he’s finally made up his mind. You meet Jimin’s eyes when he does, and for once you don’t dare jump into the swirling sea of his irises, for once you can hardly tell if the waves are calm or rough. For once, it feels like Jimin is looking at you the way you look at him—helplessly.

Taehyung smiles, looking fondly at the both of you. “You guys would have been cute together,” he says it because he means it. “You make each other so happy.”

He means that part, too.

The end-of-camp show is a longstanding tradition where all of the kids, divided by age group, celebrate the best part about summer and going to a sleepaway camp: being away from their parents. There are dance performances choreographed by the counselors (namely Hoseok, who has the most free time because his other job mainly consists of making sure Namjoon doesn’t lose his head), a guitar performance organized by Seokjin (who has promised not to rickroll everyone this year), and an art show setup by you to display all of the treasures that the campers have created. But your favorite part of the show is how, no matter how much time time is spent practicing and rehearsing, the performance will always end in chaos. The only predictable thing about it is its unpredictability. 

This year, as suggested by Hoseok and immediately implemented by Namjoon, the counselors are being roped into a performance of their own, one that is bound to be even more disastrous because even though you can all listen to directions, you are all also just as capable of purposely disobeying them. 

Part of you suspects that the only reason Hoseok even recommended that you all do this is because he enjoys watching the camp counselor collective crash and burn. Like there’s something cathartic about watching you go up in flames.

Nevertheless, you do it, because if not for yourselves then for Hoseok, and if not for him then for Namjoon, both of whom tirelessly to make sure that camp is a place where you and the other counselors can do the dumbest things without repercussions. If it weren’t for the two of them, camp would be a lot less fun.

Hoseok also just absolutely relishes in being in charge of something, something that involves dancing and singing and performing, which are his favorite things to do, and it would be cruel of all of you to deny Hoseok this opportunity, if only for a silly little camp performance. 

Hoseok manages to wrangle a time and space for rehearsal thanks to one of those magic scientists that perform cool things with chemicals, one that Namjoon has arranged to visit camp to give you and the other counselors a much-needed break from the endless excitement of children. 

And so, you all trickle into the empty counselor meeting room at three in the afternoon exactly, waiting to see what the hell Hoseok has come up with now. 

All of the tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous furniture has been pushed up against the walls, leaving just enough room for all of you to fit relatively comfortably, with Hoseok standing smack in the middle of the room, looking proud. 

“I’m scared,” Hazel admits to you as you pass by Hoseok to stand where the rest of the counselors have gathered. You sneak a peek at the clipboard in Hoseok’s hand, which isn’t empty this time, and is instead filled with sheets of paper that look like they belong in the hands of a sports coach, X’s and O’s and arrows littering the pages. 

“Don’t be,” you say, though the tremble of your voice is probably doing very little to calm her nerves. You end up grouped together with Jimin and Yoongi, who are both standing in silence, waiting for something to pull them out of their thoughts. “Hey,” you say softly, giving Jimin a nudge. 

“Hey,” Jimin responds, face lifting a little when he sees you. From behind him, Yoongi is eyeing the both of you, but he doesn’t seem very worried. Jimin laughs tensely. “I’m nervous about what Hoseok has in mind for us.”

You glance over to Hoseok as he talks animatedly with Namjoon, who looks a little bit in over his head. Namjoon must have known that Hoseok would spare no expense when it came to a counselor performance. 

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” you assure him with a squeeze to his wrist, making him smile weakly at you. 

“First Namjoon makes us sit outside, and then he makes us do exercise?” Yoongi huffs. “When will it end?”

“High time he got you out of the damn kitchens,” Jungkook mutters to himself, making all of the other counselors within earshot laugh. Yoongi turns around to give Jungkook half of a noogie before Hoseok claps to get everyone’s attention. 

“Alright, hi everyone!” Hoseok cheers. “Glad you all could make it.”

“Did we have a choice?” Seokjin asks. 

“Nope!” Hoseok grins. “Anyway, as you know, this year Namjoon and I have been thinking of doing a counselor performance at the end-of-camp show to show unity and entertain the kids, since they’re the ones who have been doing all of the work thus far to make the camp show a reality. And I, as your assistant head counselor and dance choreographer, get to set it up!”

“Oh, God,” Taehyung says. 

“It’s not going to be a super serious thing because this is camp and we’re literally performing for prepubescent children, so don’t worry!” He says, doing nothing to ease people’s worries. He turns around to face the chalkboard, and begins to magnet the pieces of paper from his clipboard onto it, page by page, as the rest of you stare on in horror. “But I have come up with a bit of a dance for us to perform…”

“Oh, God,” Seokjin repeats dramatically. 

“Anyway,” Hoseok says, clapping his hands together once more to redirect everyone’s attention from the mess on the board back to him. “It’ll be a bit of a partner dance for the first half, and then everyone gets about five seconds worth of a solo in the middle where you can do whatever you want—” when Hoseok spots Jungkook, Taehyung, and Seokjin already beginning to scheme, wicked smiles widening, he quickly adds, “—within reason, and then a big old group thing to finish it up. Does that sound good?”

“Whoop,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Great!” Hoseok says, fumbling for another piece of paper in the stack that he still has left on his clipboard. 

“God, a partner dance?” You ask awkwardly, feeling noticeably more worried than before. It’s not that you’re dreading having to dance, or even having to perform in front of a bunch of kids, it’s the idea of having to dance with someone else, a specific someone else in particular, that has your stomach doing flips. “Why did Hobi think that was a good idea?”

“It might be fun, don’t you think?” Jimin says, trying to keep the mood light. It’s clear he has no worries about the potential for being paired up with you, which might have been able to fly last year but this summer, you’re not so sure. You and Jimin just managed to start eating lunch together again without wanting to curl into a ball and hide. What’s going to happen if you have to dance with each other?

“I’m not a very good dancer,” you admit, a weak excuse for your real fear. 

“Then I’ll teach you,” Jimin says, and the words are hopeful and filled with light as he works so desperately to remind you that not all has been lost. That you can begin again. 

“Okay, partners,” Hoseok says, looking at his list. “Namjoon and Yoongi, Jungkook and Seokjin, Taehyung and Hazel, Maria and Ruby, Jia-yi and Quinn, and Jimin and Y/N.”

Shit. 

Yoongi, noticing your alarm, immediately interrupts, “Uh, is it possible for us to switch partners?”

“Why?” Hoseok asks innocently. 

And in that split second, that moment of pause, you look from the wide-eyed Yoongi to Jimin, who is gazing back at you like he’s finally got it right, like he’s finally been given an opportunity to fix what you had broken, to repair your relationship, brick by brick, if only for a stupid counselor performance. Jimin, who is smiling and smiling and smiling because you are finally eating lunch together and you are finally watering that damn hydrangea and you finally get to dance together, and everything in the world is slowly beginning to feel right, the dust is beginning to settle after a month’s worth of storms. 

You inhale, then you exhale, and you say, “I’m fine with my partner. I don’t think we need to switch, do we?”

And you swear, your heart feels lighter already. 

Jimin pops into the arts and crafts room more often these days. Sometimes he actually does it because he needs to drop something off, because a camper left something in the greenhouse or because Namjoon is making him, but most times, he does it just to say hi, just to charm all of the campers as they make collages out of old magazines or glue together fabric for no-sew pillows. 

And every time he does it, every time there is that familiar knock on the door, you nearly tumble over yourself from excitement. The best part about it is how normal it’s all beginning to feel, how familiar it is. You are almost back to where you used to be. 

Almost back to when you loved him, and he didn’t know, and everything was alright. 

Today, the kids are making cards for you to mail back home before the summer is done, before camp comes to a close and they return to their lives and you return to yours. Normally, you’d automatically send the letters back to the parents, but this time, you offer up an alternative. 

“These cards are going to be mailed back home to the people that you love,” you say, holding up your own as an example. It’s a basic one, yellow cardstock with daisies made out of construction paper glued onto it, but it serves as a good guideline for whatever the campers want to do with their own. “You just need to provide their address so that we can make sure it gets to the right person.”

“It doesn’t have to be our parents?” One boy asks.

“Nope,” you say with a smile, shaking your head. “You can send it to anyone you love. It’s just to let them know how you are, and that you miss them.”

“Who are you sending yours to?” A different girl, Rose, asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, because you don’t really need to let your parents know how you are when you text each other constantly, and all of your friends from back home can see all of the shenanigans you get up to on your social media, but a letter is no fun if only one person ever gets to read it. 

“You should send it to Jimin,” Rose suggests matter-of-factly, making you sputter out the water you were taking a sip of all over the table in front of you. 

“Jimin?” You repeat, forcing a smile. “I see Jimin all the time.”

“But you really like him, don’t you?” She asks, even though she obviously already knows the answer. Goddamn, kids pick up on everything. “I can tell.”

“Is that so?” You return, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, me too!” The boy chirps up. “You always look so nervous whenever he comes to say hello. Like you don’t know what to say. That’s what my mom looks like whenever she comes home from a new date with a boy she really likes.”

You do? That is news to you. 

“It’s okay, though,” Rose interrupts. “I think that he really likes you too. Otherwise he wouldn’t just be popping in every other day to say hello!”

“Maybe he really likes seeing you guys, instead!” You offer, feeling your cheeks heating up at the thought that you and Jimin have laid yourselves out bare like a board book for everyone to read. 

“I don’t think so. He looks too happy when he sees you.” The girl shakes her head. “You should send your card to him, so he knows that you love him.”

Oh, he knows, that’s for sure, you think to yourself. There’s no way that Jimin hasn’t already realized that you still love him. That you have always loved him. Even the campers have it figured out, and they’re still in elementary school. But you think that the worst part of this, the worst part of all of these freakishly observant children verbally beating you up with reminders of your relationship with Jimin, is how they seem to think that Jimin likes you back. That Jimin sees you as something more. 

Because he didn’t, last year. And he didn’t, earlier this summer. And there is no way things have changed that much. 

“You guys should keep working on your cards,” you say, desperate for the subject to drop, desperate to talk about anything, literally anything, besides Jimin. “We want to send them by the end of the week so that the people you love will get them before camp’s over.”

“So you do like him!” The boy exclaims. 

“Cards, Oliver!” You reprimand him, earning a chorus of giggles, though there is no mistaking the way your body has tensed, the way your words are shaking. No mistaking how your heart trembles at the thought of Jimin, sweet, wonderful, beautiful Jimin, actually liking you back. 

It can’t be. 

You and Jimin have always just been friends. That’s all you’ll ever be. You swear. 

You swear.

“The hydrangea looks better,” you comment as you enter the greenhouse, eyes immediately darting towards the pot on the table at the front. In it, the hydrangea has blossomed fully, its petals a vibrant sky blue, basking in the faint glow of the sun as it streams into the greenhouse, peeking between the misty gray clouds, painting everything with a hazy yellow warmth. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jimin asks from where he’s wrestling with an enormous packet of soil, pausing his battle to turn and look at the blossom, smiling to himself. “I think we must have worked some sort of magic.”

“Or maybe it’s just your expert gardening skills,” you tease, hauling in some plants by the door that Jimin has been meaning to bring inside the greenhouse for days now. “I’m not in here enough to make any sort of noticeable difference.”

Jimin scoffs disbelievingly. “You’re in here almost as much as I am nowadays.”

“Just to help out,” you defend weakly, pouting to yourself. It’s not like you’ve completely abandoned your air-conditioned arts and crafts room to fool around in the balmy greenhouse, soil underneath your fingernails and seeds stuck to your clothes. You just prefer to spend your free time here. Nothing criminal about that.

Plus, Jimin sure doesn’t seem to mind. 

“And for that, I thank you,” says Jimin with a grin, the bag of soil finally beginning to cooperate with him. He hauls it over his shoulder to bring into the back room, where he keeps all of the bigger tools and plants that are too advanced for the campers, and you pretend not to ogle the way his biceps bulge as he carries the soil away, the bag easily fifty pounds or more. 

What? You didn’t fall in love with Jimin just because of his electric personality. 

“Besides, you come into the arts room so often that all the kids are starting to think you work there instead of here,” you remind him pointedly. He laughs, and the sound bounces off of the glass walls, filling up the room. 

Jimin comes out of the back room, a little bit of soil smudged onto his cheek from his gloves, and he’s smiling. “Maybe I just like seeing you.”

“Next time we do a craft I’ll make sure to prepare an extra one so you can do it with us,” you joke, ignoring the way his words warm you from the inside out, convincing yourself that this is what it was like last year, too, so Jimin doesn’t mean anything by it. 

Convincing yourself that Jimin has never loved you the way that you love him. 

“Am I going to be allowed to sit next to you?” He asks as he walks up to where you’re working, that same flirty lilt to his voice, that teasing tone that he always used to use on you, especially whenever it came down to spending time together. 

“Only if you’re good,” you chide in response, leaning over to pick up a flower pot just so you don’t have to see his damn face, so you don’t have to see the way his eyes glint in the sun as he toys with you, as he presses all of your buttons with ease.

Obviously, you had seriously miscalculated how far away he was, because by the time you’re standing up straight he’s right behind you, playfully pinching at your waist, the sensation sending an electric jolt through your veins. You jump and gasp at the feeling, nearly dropping the goddamn flower pot, body suddenly turning to jelly. Behind you, Jimin is in stitches. 

“I could have dropped this!” You scold him as he doubles over in laughter, giggling and giggling and giggling, so much so that you can’t even pretend to be angry at him, too endeared by his happiness, by his pure joy, to shout at him any more. 

“You’ve always been so ticklish, Y/N,” Jimin says between puffs of air, trying to catch his breath.

“I am not! You just surprised me!” You defend, even though Jimin’s right and he knows it. Your outrage leaves him in hysterics still, amused by the way you so easily fall right into his trap.

“Whatever you say,” he singsongs, helping you haul in the last of the flowerpots. “I think that’s the last of them.”

“Next time I show up, a whole different part of the greenhouse will need work,” you say with a sigh, because no matter how much you do, no matter how much you clean and reorganize, there will always be something left. 

“The work is never done,” Jimin says with a smile, having already resigned himself to this fate. “But I think it looks pretty good.”

And looking at the greenhouse, looking at the vibrant hues that fill the room, from the rich golden marigolds to the bright pink lilies, from the rich green leaves to the soft blue hydrangea, you have to agree. It’s no wonder why Jimin loves this place so much, spends so much time in it despite its severe lack of circulation and the absence of reliable shade. It’s because everything in here he has had a hand in making. Everything in here is here because of him. 

This place will never not remind you of him. 

“It’s getting late,” Jimin says, checking his watch. “You think they have dinner ready for us?”

“God, I hope so,” you say with a sigh. “I’m starving.”

“Then shall we feast?” He asks, holding his arm out for you to take. 

You wrap your arm around his own, and you grin. “We shall.”

Then the thunder cracks, and the sky begins to sob. 

You’re barely three feet out the door before you feel the wet splotches on your shoulders, cold drops on your skin, made thicker by the leaves above your head, forcing you to retreat back into the greenhouse. Thanks to the glass, the raindrops that hit the rooftop ring like mallets on a drum, booming and loud, echoing throughout the room. 

“Damn,” Jimin says, staring out at the once sunny clearing, now shrouded in a grey haze. “It was sunny two minutes ago.”

“It’s just a summer storm,” you assure, arm still wrapped up tight in his own. “They never last long.”

“Think we should wait it out?” He asks. 

“Whatever you want to do.”

Jimin grins, squeezing you tight. “How about this? Five minutes, and if it doesn’t stop, we make a run for it?”

You nod. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes pass and the rain has no intention of letting up, seemingly getting heavier as you count down the seconds, the light grey fog that has blanketed the clearing turning to an angry deep blue, thick and endless. The alarm on Jimin’s watch goes off, signifying your wait’s end, and you open your mouth to suggest that maybe you should wait here a little longer, but barely get the first letter out before Jimin is flinging open the door to the greenhouse and pulling you out into the rain. 

You shriek as the drops hit you, little pellets of water striking you like beads, soaking your clothes and your skin everything in between. Jimin looks back from where he’s running in front of you, one hand still wrapped around your wrist, and his hair is in strands and his shirt is sticking to his torso, and you don’t think that, in your three years of knowing him, you’ve ever seen him happier. He pulls you out into the rain and he looks like a shot from a movie scene, looks like the hero in a coming-of-age film, letting the rain wash away his worries and his insecurities, letting himself be reborn beneath the crying sky. 

And he stops, and you stop, and you stand there in the pouring rain just looking at each other, picturesque frames, moments in time, letting the water soak into your skin, letting it trickle down your cheeks, decorating your eyelashes. You feel his hand sink down to your own, feel your fingers intertwine. And he is smiling, God, he is smiling so fucking wide, smiling at you like there is no place he would rather be, smiling at you like you smile at him when you think he isn’t looking, like you are the reason he is filled with light. Jimin stands there in the rain with his hand on your wrist and droplets of rain dotting his skin, and he is brand new. And you watch him, watch the way it rains down upon him, and you wonder what the hell he is thinking. 

You wonder what on earth he sees when he looks at you. 

(Is it the same as what you see when you look at him?)

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask him, feeling like your voice is a distant melody, feeling like it’s coming from somewhere else. 

He shakes his head, and you can see the rain spraying from the ends of his hair, soaked strands framing his face. “Isn’t this wonderful?” He asks up to the sky, tilting his head up to let it rain down upon him, let the droplets drizzle down his cheeks. “Don’t you love it?”

“It’s nice,” you admit, because there’s something refreshing about being here, about being caught in the midst of a summer storm, washing away the dirt and sweat and worries. 

“It’s perfect,” Jimin corrects, voice trampled by the rain, thick and heavy. “I feel like this is just what I needed.”

“Needed for what?”

He looks back at you, looks at the way your bodies are still connected, at the way you’re standing barely a foot apart in the pouring rain, and he grins and says, “Just what I needed to know.”

You don’t have time to ask him what he needs to know, what he has been so desperate to learn, before he’s pulling you back into him and up onto the deck, wet footsteps on the wooden porch as you heave yourselves out of the rain and into the counselor meeting room, drenched from head to toe. 

“Oh my God, what the hell happened to you guys?” Seokjin asks, shocked when he spots the two of you, still holding hands. 

“Got caught in the rain,” you say sheepishly, still feeling out of breath. 

“In the rain?” Taehyung asks. “For how long?”

“Long enough,” Jimin answers this time, finally letting you go to run towards the back of the room. You watch helplessly as he does, your hand clenching around nothing, missing his touch. When he returns, he’s got a dry windbreaker in his hand, crumpled up from being in his backpack for so long. “Here, use this,” he says, placing it over your shoulders, pulling the collar tight at your front. 

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly, wondering what the hell Jimin is going to use to dry himself off, clothing so soaked not even a day in the sun could dry it. 

“That was fun,” Jimin says, fixing the windbreaker over your shoulders to make sure it’s covering as much of you as possible. “Who knew, right?”

“Right,” your voice trails off, too focused on the way his brows are furrowed as he tries to dry you off with a jacket made of fabric meant to repel water rather than absorb it, mouth pressed into a pout as he shuffles it around, drying off whatever he can. 

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” he says when he’s satisfied, gazing into your eyes, trying to get you to gaze back into his own. When you falter, he chuckles, this little huff of air dispelled from his lungs. “I’m gonna go bother Hoseok for something dry. Don’t stay in those clothes too long, or you’ll catch something.”

With that, he disappears into the other room, soggy footsteps leaving prints in his wake. You’re so busy watching his back disappear from view that you don’t even notice Namjoon coming up to you, a sage expression written all over his face. 

“What?” You challenge, not liking the way he looks so suspicious. 

“Nothing,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head. “I just… don’t know if you really do have anything to worry about when it comes to him.” He nods his head in the direction of Jimin before vanishing, called over by Seokjin and Jungkook to complain to him about something, leaving you floundering in the doorway to the counselor’s room. 

Does Namjoon know something you don’t?

Are you missing something here?

Because as far as you’re concerned, you and Jimin are finally getting back to where you used to be. As far as you’re concerned, you and Jimin did these same things last year, worked in the greenhouse together, planted flowers together, ate lunch together (okay, maybe you didn’t stand in the pouring rain together), and you are positive Jimin didn’t love you back then. As far as you’re concerned, this isn’t different. This is normal. 

Outside, the rain has stopped, a rainbow hidden behind the trees the only reminder that it was ever there in the first place. 

Despite the fact that you will literally only be performing for a bunch of children, Jimin is insistent on teaching you how to dance. 

At least, that’s it looks like, when he asks you to meet him in the counselor’s room one day half an hour before the mandated practice that Hoseok’s arranged for the whole group of you while the all the campers are off on a nature hike with some of the local rangers from the reserve nearby. You don’t know why this couldn’t wait until during practice, when Hoseok puts on some upbeat dance music and lets everybody do what they want, which usually ends up in someone getting twirled (usually Seokjin), but you don’t really mind. Your other option was to lie around in your cabin waiting for the next social event. 

Jimin’s already inside by the time you arrive, this smooth, soft jazz playing from the little speaker that he brought with him, set up on a table at the front of the room. The furniture hasn’t been moved back to their original spots since the first practice, so anytime Namjoon calls a meeting everyone ends up sitting on the floor like a kindergarten class, but at least it makes dance practice easier. 

Even though he’s not really dancing, his body is still moving, absorbed in the music as it echoes around the room, hips swaying and head bobbing. He loses himself in the melody so easily, letting each and every note pluck along to the strings of his heart, this deep, mellow sound that fills him up like a wine glass, dulcet and sweet. 

“Hey,” you say softly from where you stand, watching him from the doorframe. 

Jimin jumps a little bit at the sound of your voice, almost embarrassed that he hadn’t spotted you sooner. “Hey,” he says in return, coming to a halt. “I didn’t, uh, see you there.”

“That was kind of the point,” you joke, walking into the room and joining him where he stands in the center. “Why did you want me down here?”

“You mean I need a reason to see you now?” Jimin teases in return, a little smirk playing along his lips. You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, unimpressed. He gives. “Alright, you got me. I promised you a dance lesson, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t the kind of music that Hoseok puts on, though,” you point out, even as Jimin intertwines his hand in your own and pulls you in close to him, the two of you stepping in time to the beat, not too slow but not too fast, either, this even, steady swing, the sort of thing an old bar would play during the evening rush. Jimin doesn’t pay your comment any attention, instead focusing on his hand on your side, your fingers laced together between your bodies. 

You have, admittedly, never been much of a musical person. You never go out to clubs because sweaty, drunk people just aren’t your style, you don’t ever dance, and you can barely keep a beat when you sing in the shower. Your body has always been stiff as stone despite your (and your friends’) best attempts to achieve otherwise, and as such, you had long resigned yourself to the fact that you do better with your mouth than with your feet. 

But still, Jimin rallies on, because you’re here, goddamnit, and even if you never dance again after this, at least you can say that you have. He moves you around the room in time with the honeyed melody, even daring to pull some advanced tactics like spinning you beneath his touch, hand held above your head as you twirl in place. And you try to let loose, try to lose yourself in the music like he does, but it’s hard when you have always been more of a wordsmith than a dancer.

What’s also not helping is how every bone in your body always seems to freeze up at his touch. 

“Relax, alright?” He says, guiding you across the old wooden floor, boards creaking beneath your feet. “It’s just me.”

That’s the problem, your brain supplies unhelpfully. 

“I told you that I wasn’t a very good dancer,” you say bashfully, unable to look Jimin in the eye when he is so close, when his body is practically pressed up against yours, when his fingertips leave burn marks where they press against his skin, sparks flying. 

It’s different than when it was raining, because when it was raining, even though you were close, there were other things for Jimin to look at besides you. He gazed up at the sky and thanked it for its tears, gazed around the clearing and surrounded himself in the navy blue haze, closed his eyes and felt the drops on his skin, felt them wash away his nightmares and replace them with dreams. 

It’s different now, because there is nothing impressive about the counselor room. Because the janky old tables and dirty windows aren’t something to be gazed at. Because Jimin’s focus is on you and only you, and it makes you feel like he’s staring right through you, like he’s gawking at your heart where it sits in its cage, trembling beneath his eyes. Jimin makes you want to board yourself up, wall yourself in, and reveal yourself bare all at once, like there is so much that he already knows but so much more that he could, if only things were just a little bit different. 

“You’re doing just fine,” Jimin promises, voice as soft as his steps, padding on the hardwood. You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve circled the room, Jimin guiding you without reason or rhyme, just rhythm. He makes sure you’re always looking at him, reaches a hand out to tilt your chin back up if you dare glance away, keeping his steely gaze trained on you, determined to have you do the same. “Isn’t this nice?” He murmurs. 

“It is,” you agree. You don’t even have to think about your response, letting the words fall off your tongue, because even if you do feel tense, even if your bones are stiff, there is something about this that sets you at ease. 

And you stay like that, wrapped up in each other, swaying to the beat of this song, a beat that is strikingly similar to the drums of your hearts, and the moment feels as though it’s freezing. Feels as though the rest of the world is fading away, leaving only the two of you and the warm, rich tune that floats through the air, slowing down as time seems to come to a halt. 

“Do you still miss us?” You breathe, and you can see the words as they leave your lips, see them written out in puffs of smoke between you before they fade into nothingness. 

“No,” Jimin responds, equally as speechless. The word disappears quickly in front of you, replaced by his next ones, “because this is what I had been waiting for.”

The words stare down at you angrily, your eyes raking over them, line by line, letter by letter, hoping to imprint them into your skin and your brain and your heart, hoping to keep them locked up besides your love for you to replay, over and over, one of many memories that keep you up at night, that you flicker back to watch like an old film, reminiscing of who you used to be, what you used to do. 

They disappear far too quickly, and suddenly time begins again, and you get dizzy just from how much the rest of the world needs to catch up, whizzing by you in fast forward. Or maybe you’re just dizzy because Jimin has always made you feel this way, always left you gasping for air, weak in the knees, heart pounding. 

God, he makes your heart pound. He makes it drum in your ears like the Nutcracker, like thunder during a summer storm. 

“Don’t you want…” he asks, trailing off, eyes hazy and deep, absolutely unreadable. 

“Want what?” You respond, and you swear you aren’t doing it on purpose but you feel yourself leaning forward, closing the gap between you, inch by inch—

“Want to see me lift Seokjin up in the air?” Jungkook’s voice rings out into the room. “I can, you know, he weighs like two pou—whoa, alright.”

A hoard of people stop behind Jungkook as he stands in the doorway like a floundering fish, blinking at you and Jimin. His arrival does not give you enough time to part without things looking suspicious, without all of the damn counselors already making their assumptions, leaving the two of you separating awkwardly, smiling tensely. 

“What were you guys doing?” Taehyung asks, breaking the silence that has blanketed the room. 

“Practicing,” you say quickly, looking as far away from Jimin as possible. Not even you are buying into your excuse. 

“Sure thing,” Taehyung responds, eyebrows raised in understanding, already having formulated his own, likely more realistic answer. 

“Alright,” Hoseok says, appearing from behind the crowd with a clap of his hands. “I guess that means that Y/N and Jimin don’t need to be joining us today, off you guys go.” He gestures for the two of you to leave, but the only exit doubles as the entrance, which means the two of you are left to shuffle past a crowd of counselors, all of whom are staring at you as you pass them by. Jimin doesn’t reach out his hand, and you don’t make any attempts at changing that. 

You nearly suffocate on the way out, overwhelmed by the tension that has filled the atmosphere, leaving everyone helpless to it. 

Jimin goes in one direction and you go in the other, the both of you clearly too stupefied to say anything meaningful to each other, determined to spend the rest of the night apart in an effort to dispel the dozen rumors that you know have already begun to circle the camp. 

On your way back to your cabin, alone and lost in thought, you finish your conversation. 

“Do you want…” Jimin asks, voice trailing off. 

“Yes,” you say. “I want it all. I want you.”

You wonder if Jimin feels the same. 

There is something eerie about the camp late at night, when the only lights that shine are the dim yellow wall sconces outside of the cabin doors, when everyone is sound asleep in their bunks, when there is only the moon and its stars to keep you company, watch over you from their place in the universe. There’s something eerie about the quiet, not because you have a reason to feel unsettled but because you’re so used to camp being this lively, bustling place, filled with things to do and people to see. 

When you see it like this, empty and silent, it almost makes you think you aren’t even in the same place anymore. 

The one and only place that you go when you cannot sleep is the pier, extending out over the lake, the cool, clear lake, looking out into the midnight horizon, a perfect view of the stars and their reflections, cast over the water, twinkling endlessly. You take a seat on the edge, legs dangling over the water, and you stare out into the world, a cool breeze tickling your skin. 

You wonder what it is that’s keeping you awake tonight. What it is that is holding sleep just out of your grasp, your dreams suspended above your head. Camp ends in three days and for once you finally feel satisfied, feel as though you have done what you wanted and accomplished what you had hoped. The last few days of this summer are a far cry from those of last summer, where you were wearing yourself thin thinking about your confession, thinking about what you would say and when you would say it, and what you would do based on the fifteen thousand different things that Jimin could say in response, so hung up on telling him that you barely focused on anything else. 

But this summer, you and Jimin are finally starting to be alright again. And even though you don’t think you will ever move on from loving him, you have moved on from the fact that he will probably never love you back, moved on from your failed confession, and you are learning to be okay with what you have, even if it’s not what you want. 

The truth is that you and Jimin have never felt closer. Driven by your mutual desperation to be friends again, to return to the way that things were when you were together, when you were inseparable, you have been pulled together like moths to each other’s flames, like the thunder and the lightning. You can’t think of anything from this summer that you have wanted more than to be by his side again. But things are different from last summer, different because you and Jimin are not only friends but friends who have had to reckon with love, with its disastrous effects. 

So maybe that’s why you’re awake tonight. Because this summer feels inexplicably stranger than last summer, and you feel like you’re missing something. 

“I thought I’d be the only one still awake.”

You whip your head around at the voice to find Jimin standing at the other end of the pier, ink black hair hanging over his eyes, stars swimming in his irises. You can barely make out his face this late at night, when there is nothing to cast upon him a glow besides the moon and its lonely companions, but you will never mistake his soft, honeyed voice, never mistake the way his eyes sparkle and shine. He is grinning at you, warm and kind, as he slowly makes his way towards you, footsteps tapping along the worn wooden planks, until he sits down next to you, feet hovering above the water. 

“You and me both, I guess,” you feel yourself whisper, not daring to speak a decibel louder. 

“Lots on your mind?” He asks, looking out into the horizon. You sigh, too tired to respond. He understands anyway, just like he always does. “Mine too.”

You let the silence wash over you like a wave that bathes the shoreline, gazing out into a world that carries on no matter the time of day, no matter who watches over it. Like this, you and Jimin don’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Don’t need to force a conversation just for the sake of filling up the quiet night. Like this, your presence is enough, the knowledge that he is here beside you, staring out into the same sky, into the same moon and stars, is all that you need. 

Something has long gone unspoken between the two of you. Something that you can’t quite place. Jimin has had something to say for a long time but he lets his body do the talking, lets you fill in the gaps. But this time, it feels like the more you try to read between the lines the less you understand, and goddamnit you wish that he would just tell you, would just say it so you don’t have to keep wondering and wondering and wondering—

“I never did tell you,” Jimin says, breaking you out of your reverie.

“Tell me what?”

“Tell you what I was thinking, that night.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate any further for you to know what night he’s talking about. You stare down at the lake, at the way it seems to move into itself even though there is nothing to disturb it. 

“I guess I was just so shocked that you, you know, liked me like that, that I didn’t really focus on anything else. Didn’t think about why, or how, or when, or what to do. It existed separately from all of that,” he admits, breaths heavy. 

“You didn’t need to focus on that stuff,” you assure him softly. “It was my burden to hold. I was the one who chose to tell you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Does he know? Does he know that you never hated him for not loving you back? That you didn’t expect him to do anything about it? 

“I just felt so bad,” he says, and you hear the way the words prick at his tongue, leave burn marks along his lips. “Because I didn’t know what to do after that. I wanted to love you back so badly but I just couldn’t.”

And even though you already knew this, even though you were already well aware that Jimin has always only seen you as a friend, for some reason hearing him say it aloud still hurts, still pierces your heart, wounds that your love for him alone cannot fix. 

“It’s not your fault,” you promise him, because throughout all of this, no matter what, you have never, ever blamed him for not loving you back. “I didn’t expect anything. At all. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Don’t I, though?” Jimin asks, and God, he sounds so helpless, sounds like he’s tried everything under the sun to figure things out and still, nothing has felt right. “We had always been so close. I wondered why I couldn’t fall in love with you and the things that we did together when you could. I thought that I was doing something wrong. You deserved someone who would love you back, and I so desperately wanted to be that person.”

“You owed me nothing,” you declare. “You still don’t owe me a damn thing. All I wanted was for you to know.” And look where that got you.

“Knowing didn’t feel like enough,” Jimin divulges. “I wanted to do more for you than just acknowledge it. I replayed that night in my head, over and over, wondering what more I could have said to you.” He sighs, deep and slow and filled with weight, filled with a year’s worth of thoughts he never told anyone else. “You told me you loved me and it was all I could think about. Then and now.”

“You still think about it?” You wonder aloud, sad because Jimin doesn’t deserve to have this weight on his conscience when you are the one at fault, and hopeful because maybe, just maybe, your confession meant just as much to him as it did to you. 

“I can’t stop,” he confesses. And then he turns to you, turns to you in the glow of the moon, his eyes drowning in starlight, and he says, “Every time I look at you I think about how you love me.”

You don’t know what to say. You are too absorbed in the swirling sea of his irises, letting the warmth wash over you in waves, filling you up before emptying out again, shocks of cold before the heat races through you. Jimin is right there, right here, and he is gazing at you and you wonder. 

You wonder, what if. 

You wonder, what if he loved me back?

“Even when I was away from you I thought about it,” he chuckles to himself, amused at his own obsession. “I thought about you, that night, at the campfire. You were wearing this neon pink camp t-shirt and your marshmallow looked like coal and you had this warm orange glow on you, and I swear to God, that image is imprinted in my brain. I see it every time I close my eyes.”

You didn’t know that. 

“When I went on dates, I saw you instead. I would be sitting in a booth with some girl and she would be trying to talk to me about the menu and all I would see is you.” Jimin exhales, filling the pauses that he leaves between his sentences, eyes raking you up and down as if he’s trying to commit this scene to memory, as if this night on the pier is something worth remembering. “They knew, too. All of them told me that I should get over my ex before going on a brand new date.” 

Get over you? What about you was there to get over? Your love has always been one-sided. You have never known a world where it hasn’t.

“And I wouldn’t even try to explain to them that I didn’t have an ex to get over, and that you were the one who confessed to me, and that I didn’t love you like that,” he forces another laugh, like he doesn’t even believe the words he’s saying himself. “Then this summer rolled around, and I saw you arrive and I just can’t tell you in words how happy I was to see you. How looking at you just lifted my spirits.”

“I hardly recognized you at first,” you admit shyly. 

“I dyed my hair,” Jimin reminds you. That’s right. He had brown hair last summer. “And I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know how to without bringing up all the shit that happened last year, and things were awkward between us, and I guess…” he trails off, thinking for a moment. “I guess I just really, really wanted us to get back to the way things were, but I didn’t know how to. And I didn’t know what had changed.”

“Nothing changed,” you say, even though everything did. But loving Jimin has always been a constant in your life, a truth, and this summer was no different. “I wanted to go back to being friends with you, too.”

“I thought I wanted that, too.”

This time, you are the one who turns to look at him. What could he possibly mean by that? 

(Can it be?)

“At first, that’s all I wanted,” Jimin begins. “I wanted us to go back to being friends, I wanted us to eat lunch together and have it not be weird, I wanted us to spend time in the greenhouse and the arts and crafts room together, I wanted us to hang around the rest of the counselors without them noticing how different we were. But then I noticed that the hydrangea was wilting no matter what the fuck I did to keep it alive, and I realized that wanting our friendship back wasn’t enough for me anymore.”

You are frozen in place. You are locked into his gaze, body turning to stone, unable to even utter a single word. To breathe a single breath. And you look into his eyes, Jimin’s beautiful, ocean eyes, Jimin’s sparkling, ink eyes, and you pray. 

“And then Hobi partnered us up for the stupid camp counselor performance, and we got caught in the rain, and then we danced in the counselor meeting room and I just—” His chest heaves, words flounder. As if he has so much to say, as if the words are practically spilling off of his tongue, and yet they are still not enough. He closes his eyes. Pauses. Catches his breath. And then he asks, “If I asked you if you still loved me, would you say yes?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“If I asked you if you wanted me to love you back, would you say yes?”

“Yes,” you whisper again. 

Jimin blinks.

“If I asked you if you wanted me to kiss you, would you say yes?”

You barely get out the first letter before Jimin is pulling you into him and pressing his fiery lips upon yours. His hand cradles your cheek, the other one splayed out on the wooden pier to keep his balance, dragging you into a messy, desperate kiss, one that sends sparks ricocheting throughout your body, turning your blood into liquid flames, that fills you up from the inside out. The feeling of his lips pressed upon yours makes your heart shake so wildly in its cage that it frees itself, growing a thousand times wider. The rose inside of you vanishes, finds itself replaced by a blooming, bright blue hydrangea, one that settles deeply within your soul. 

Your legs dangle off the pier as your arms wrap around Jimin’s body, curling around his torso in a futile effort to bring him closer than he already is, to feel the warmth of him press against you, sending jolts down your spine, into your bones. You feel yourself getting dizzy just at the feeling alone, kiss drunk, the rest of the world spinning like a goddamn teacup ride, but you cling onto him and you know that he will always be there to catch you if you fall. You know that he will always be there to steady you when you feel the world slipping out from beneath your feet. 

You have him, you have him, you have him. You have him, and he is right here, and he loves you like the sun loves the moon, and you love him like the waves love the shore.

When you part, you almost lose your balance and fall right off the damn pier. Jimin reaches out to grab you just in time, saving you from a watery grave (or just major embarrassment), and the two of you laugh, letting your voices fill the moonlit air, heads light, bodies blissed out. 

“Honestly, I was a little nervous you were going to say no,” he admits with a laugh. 

“Impossible,” you chide. “You know I’ve always loved you.”

No matter what, that will never change. 

“And now,” he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead, this one gentle and plush, “you know that I will always love you, too.”

It doesn’t feel like something long overdue. It doesn’t feel like something that you have been waiting and waiting and waiting for, something you have expected from the moment you told him. 

No. This feels like something new. 

This feels like your heart is in bloom. 

The end-of-camp show, no matter how much time and effort Namjoon puts into making it go smoothly, is a train wreck. But it is a train wreck in that wonderful way, in that way where you would be suspicious if things actually went according to plan, in that way where chaos and disarray reign supreme. Quite frankly, when it comes to the end-of-camp show, you never expect anything less. 

The truth is that the majority of the end-of-camp show performances are just for the counselor’s entertainment, an afternoon of fun to wrap up the end of camp, topped off by a fun meal (usually pizza) and a night around a bonfire, letting the heat warm your bodies from the inside out. Unless Jungkook and Taehyung pull some extremely ridiculous prank, the last official day of camp is usually everyone’s favorite, filled with snacks and music and laughter.

The performances by the campers go about as well as any performance by a bunch of elementary schoolers can go—that is to say, the kids remember the first five seconds of the choreography before they devolve into pandemonium, dancing as many weird, trendy dances as they can, and some you don’t even think have been invented yet. Nonetheless, Hoseok is proud, and beams at all of the campers as they scurry away from the center of the gymnasium once their dance is done, grabbing little snacks on the tables by the windows before settling in to watch the next stage. Hoseok does a good job of keeping the music current and upbeat so that nobody falls asleep, and gives the campers enough creative liberty so that it doesn’t feel too practiced. 

Lightly rehearsed, Hoseok likes to say. 

Absolute madness, Yoongi usually corrects.

After the dances, Seokjin and his hoard of campers with guitars the size of an overgrown ukelele make their way to center stage, and you and the other counselors bet on what stupid song he’s taught them all. He starts it off with everyone’s favorite and the most timeless of all tunes—Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star—before the musical highlight. 

(“It’s gonna be Fireflies,” Taehyung insists, so confident in his choice that he even wagers two of the homemade Rice Krispie Treats that Yoongi got all of the campers to make for today’s celebration. 

“It’s been too long since he rickrolled us,” Jungkook says, eyes narrowing suspiciously to Seokjin at the front of the room. “I’m just waiting for it.”

“Wonderwall, obviously,” Hoseok contributes, even though Seokjin got all of the campers from last year to play that. 

You and Jimin are both almost positive Seokjin has chosen to perform Let it Go, a song that will never truly escape you, but you keep your comments to yourselves. 

“I’m thinking Photograph,” Namjoon comments mindlessly, late to the conversation.

“The Nickelback song?” Yoongi says with a scoff. “Dude, we’re the only ones old enough to even know that song. No no, I think it’ll be Despacito.”

“If I have to hear Despacito one more time, I’m going to jump out of the f—” Taehyung stumbles on the syllable as Namjoon turns to glare at him, making Taehyung sputter for a replacement. “F… -reaking window. Watch me.”)

In the end, none of you guess correctly, because Seokjin has chosen to teach all of the campers how to play Country Road, Take Me Home, and honestly, none of you can even be mad about it because by the thirty second mark, you’re all singing along. There’s just something about that song that forces you to belt out the lyrics, something magical and irresistible. 

Afterwards, it is finally time for the counselor’s performance, which, if the camper’s excited screams are anything to go by, is apparently the peak of the afternoon. Hoseok puts on the same upbeat dance music and all of you go to town, following his choreography without any hitches before jumping into the solo section. Namjoon and Yoongi both attempt a trendy Internet dance and fail miserably, Taehyung and Hazel do a little tango that involves no accidents, and then it’s you and Jimin’s turn. 

The music isn’t really appropriate for the slow dance that Jimin taught you in the counselor meeting room, but he makes it work and you follow along, tracing his footsteps and laughing at the prickly sensation his hand on your waist sends shooting through you. You really have always been ticklish there. Hoseok only gives everyone thirty seconds before they’re booted off to the sideline, but thirty seconds is just enough time for Jimin to spin you once before pulling you into a kiss in front of dozens of campers and all of the counselors, whose hollers and hoots fill the gymnasium, bouncing off of the walls and ricocheting into your ears, when they watch you. It has your cheeks heating up something fierce, all embarrassed by Jimin’s big reveal, but the great big smile on his face makes it all worth it. He looks so happy to be here with you. He looks so goddamn happy to have you. 

It makes you feel like you can do anything. 

Ultimately, Jungkook and Seokjin get the greatest applause, because Jungkook lifts Seokjin into the air figure-skating style before Seokjin comes crashing down on him, and they land in a puddle on the gymnasium floor to the screams of all of the campers and counselors, who have never seen anything quite as artistically dramatic in their lives. 

Afterwards, you and Jimin retire to the snack tables alongside the rest of the counselors as the campers are free to roam the building, check out the art on display and eat as many ants on a log and homemade Rice Krispie Treats as they can get their grubby hands on. 

“Congrats, you guys,” Namjoon says, raising his dixie cup filled with lemonade. “It worked out after all.”

“I’m proud of you,” Yoongi murmurs to you, a soft smile gracing his features. 

“Love always prevails,” Jungkook declares, sighing happily, always a hopeless romantic at heart. You sure hope that one day, Jungkook will fall in love with someone who loves him back unconditionally, because he deserves it. 

“Which one of you confessed first?” Seokjin says, Taehyung nodding furiously behind you. You see that the bet is still on. 

“Me,” you say. 

“Me,” Jimin says. 

You both look at each other, eyebrows furrowed, clearly on separate wavelengths. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “Alright… which one of you said ‘I love you’ first?”

“That would be me,” you admit sheepishly, having a year’s headstart on Jimin when it comes to love confession. 

“I fucking knew it,” Seokjin says, palm out. Taehyung begrudgingly smacks five dollars into Seokjin’s hand, muttering to himself about how he was convinced that Jimin would tell you first. It makes you wonder, just a little bit, how long Jimin had known.

You open your mouth to defend yourself and your weak, weak heart, when you feel a tap on your side. Behind you is the same girl from the day that you were making cards to send back home to people you love, the one who absolutely grilled you about your feelings for Jimin. 

“Yes, Rose?” You ask happily. 

“So did you send it to him?” She questions. 

“Send what?”

“Your card. Did you send it to Mr. Jimin?” She elaborates, eyes wide in curiosity. You make a mental note to remind her to never stop being inquisitive. It will take her far. 

“No, I didn’t,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head. You look back at Jimin, where he’s laughing with Seokjin and Taehyung about their stupid bet on you, and you grin. He is so beautiful. It’s still hard to believe he’s yours. “Jimin doesn’t need a card to know that I love him.”

Not when he’s right here, and not when you know he loves you back. 

The counselor campfire is held on the day very last night that you spend together, after all of the campers have left the mountain, returning home, and you finally have the place to yourselves. Namjoon and Yoongi light it because everyone else has been banned from doing so after the Great Flame Incident two years ago, and then you all sit on the logs around the fire pit, reminiscing of the summer gone by, musing aloud about what the future holds. 

You and Jimin snuggle up together, and this night faintly reminds you of the one from last year in the way that Jimin still glows, warm and yellow, in the light of the fire, in the way he seems to make perfect s’mores no matter what, in the way that he laughs at everything that you say. But even with all of the similarities, nothing, literally nothing, could top how you feel right now, dancing on cloud nine with Jimin by your side. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d have him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your confession would amount to anything more.

“You’re burning your marshmallow again,” Taehyung points out crudely, the side of your marshmallow already turning an ashy coal color. 

“Ah, fuck,” you mutter to yourself, yanking it away from the fire as you blow on it. 

“You’re never gonna learn, are you?” Jimin teases. He plucks his off of his stick, perfectly toasted, and holds it out for you. “Here, have mine.” You open wide and he pops it onto your tongue, the crisp, sweet flavor melting in your mouth as all of the other counselors groan, clearly wishing that they were somewhere other than here. Jimin’s fingers reach up to your chin, tilting your face towards him, before a thumb comes out to wipe away at the smudge on the side of your lip, a sticky white crumb that he pops into his mouth, earning another round of whines.

“Gross,” Seokjin says, nose scrunched up. “Just because you guys are in love now doesn’t mean you have to keep showing us. We get it.”

“Oh, just leave them alone,” Yoongi chides. “They’ve been pining after each other for so long, let them have this.”

“Thanks,” you murmur to Yoongi. You have a lot to thank him for. He has always been on your side, even when you weren’t. 

“Anytime,” he promises. 

“If they’re gonna be like this next year, then I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Taehyung admits with a fond sigh, because no matter how much he pretends to be annoyed, you know that he’s happy for you. 

Namjoon sucks in a breath. “Uh, yeah, about next year…” he says, wringing his hands together. “I’m not going to be coming back.” You fall into silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire, the rustle of the wildlife in the woods. “I have another internship at a firm, and then I’m going to be going into the job market, so I don’t, uh, I don’t really see myself coming back here.”

“Me too,” Yoongi chirps up, earning a surprised look from everyone else. “I’ve just been given an offer to produce music for this small record company, but they’re located across the country, so I’ll be moving soon. I guess—well, I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you all.”

“Congrats,” you tell him, sad to hear he won’t be back but thrilled to know he’ll be doing something he truly loves instead. “Seriously, Yoongi. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, man, that’s sick,” Jungkook pipes up. “When you’ve won your Grammy you have to remember to mention us.”

Yoongi chuckles to himself, small and quiet, but even in this orange light you can see the way his cheeks are turning cherry red, relishing in the praise. “I’ll miss you all,” he says. 

And slowly, one by one, you all begin to admit that even though you love it here, being a camp counselor had always been temporary, and it just wouldn’t be the same without everyone else here with you too. You and Jimin will be graduating this coming school year. So will Taehyung. Seokjin has a Master’s degree in acting that he wants to pursue. Even Jungkook, who is younger than all of you besides Hazel, has said that he plans to travel with his college lacrosse team next summer. 

“Damn,” Taehyung says when everyone is finished, as you all begin to count how many of you there will be left for next summer. “Who’s gonna do Namjoon’s job?”

“I already asked,” Namjoon says with a proud grin, “and Hazel said she is happy to take on the responsibility.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Seokjin shouts, giving Hazel a massive hug, nearly crushing her in two. “Hell yeah, Haze! You are going to be kick ass at that. I’m proud of you!”

The rest of the counselors soon follow suit, congratulating Hazel and cheering for her future. It almost makes you want to come back, but you know that Hazel will be fine without you. As long as she still has her secret stash. 

“Nice work, Haze,” you tell her, earning a shy smile from her in response. “You’ve always been a leader.”

“I’m just nervous I won’t be as good as Namjoon,” she admits timidly, clearly a little overwhelmed at such an enthusiastic response. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Namjoon assures her. “I know you’ll be fine. Plus, you won’t have all of these losers to worry about, so your workload will be much lighter.”

“Hey!” Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook all shout at once. 

“Don’t get me started on the two of you,” Namjoon chides, eyes narrowed. “You’ve caused me more stress than my senior thesis.”

“Out of love,” Seokjin swears, Jungkook and Taehyung nodding enthusiastically next to him. Namjoon rolls his eyes, even though you know that he secretly loves the extra work that they give him. It keeps him young, in that old-timey kind of way. 

“Then I guess this is it, isn’t it?” Hazel asks, standing up and holding out a finished s’more, already taking on her newly-bestowed head counselor duties. “I suppose I’ll do the honors. Congrats to Y/N and Jimin for finally figuring their relationship out, congrats to Yoongi for getting into that record company, congrats to Namjoon for getting his internship, and congrats to everyone else for doing what they love, and for not letting their dreams be dreams. This summer feels sort of like the end of an era, in a way, don’t you think? I mean, lots of us are moving on to bigger and better things, celebrating the past and aspiring to become people that we hope will be admired in the future. And I guess that I just want you all to know that no matter who you become, no matter what you do, I’ll always be someone who admires you.”

If you were a little drunk or just a little more sentimental, Hazel’s words would almost bring tears to your eyes, but instead you just join everyone in cheers, standing up and clinking your s’mores together.

And in a way, it really does feel like the end of an era. No more summers on the mountain, no more late-night camp pranks, no more hydrangeas in the greenhouse. You’re moving on, not only from this part of your life but from your almost-fruitless quest for love, from the place that led you to fall so deeply for Jimin, the place that has housed every memory you have ever saved of him. You’re moving on to a world where Jimin is with you every step of the way, where you know that he will always be there for you, where you no longer have to fight yourself to keep from loving him, where you have to do everything you can to preserve an already-fragile friendship. 

No. Now, you can take your first step forward with Jimin by your side. 

“Cheers!” Everyone shouts. 

“Cheers,” Jimin says to you, pulling you in for a quick little kiss, and no matter how hot the campfire burns Jimin’s lips upon yours will always be what warms you from within. “Cheers to us.”

You grin against his lips, pressing back because you can never get enough, and you murmur, “Cheers to us.”

“Hey! Jungkook!” Seokjin shouts right as Jungkook hops into his car. “When we text you in the group chat you better fucking respond!”

“I will, I will!” Jungkook screams back, voice so loud you can hear it despite the fact that all of his windows are rolled up. 

“No, he won’t,” Yoongi deadpans as he passes you by, duffel bags hanging from his shoulders. “You know he won’t.”

“He never does,” you agree. Getting a text from him is almost as impossible as winning the lottery. “I’ll call you, alright? I know you don’t really like texting, either.”

“Talking is just easier,” he says with a nod. “I’m looking forward to it. Call me whenever you need me.”

“I will,” you promise, watching as Yoongi bids you one final goodbye before heading to his own ride. He plops his bags into the trunk of Namjoon’s car before getting into the passenger seat. Namjoon pushes his head out of the window to wave, smiling wildly at you as he starts the car. You grin, waving back, and watch him, Yoongi, and Jungkook, disappear down the mountain. 

“You’re next, right?” 

You whip around to find Jimin standing behind you, a frisbee in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He won’t be leaving for another couple of hours, when Taehyung’s finally ready to go. They live close to each other so they figured they’d save money by splitting an Uber, which will be waiting for them at the bottom of the mountain.

“Yeah, gotta get back before college starts,” you say, dropping your bags at your feet. “But we’ll see each other before then, right?”

Jimin and you attend universities on opposite sides of the country. Loving each other is the easy part. Staying in love is what will challenge you. 

“Of course,” he promises. “I’ll visit whenever I can. And I’ll come see you on all my breaks during the semester, too. You and Jungkook.”

“Good, you better,” you say, and you pull him in for a bruising hug because you know that this will be the last time for a while. Not a long while, but a while, and even if you have committed every slope of his figure, every inch of his face to memory, you still have to remember how warm he is when you hold him, how soft his lips are when they touch yours. Those things… those are new. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he assures you. “But I’ll miss you too.”

Several feet away, Hoseok honks the horn of your car to let you know that you’re all ready to go.

“I’ll call you when I’m home, okay?” You promise, pulling him in for another hug, one last time, feeling this strange desperation rush through you, like you won’t see him for weeks and this is all you’ll have left. “Isn’t it weird? You’re right here and I miss you already.”

“We’ll see each other again before you know it,” he says, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, quick kiss. No matter how many times he does it still sends sparks shooting through your veins, but you suppose that that’s just another thing you’ll have to remember. When you part, he notices your worry, eyes softening at the sight. “Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up so you look at him. “I love you.”

You crack a smile. “I love you, too.” 

It’s not a goodbye. 

It’s an until I see you again.

You grab your duffel bags and hike them over your shoulder, footsteps heavy and weighted as you slowly make your way towards your car. Every four steps or so, you turn back just to make sure that Jimin’s still there, and sure enough, he’s watching you, this lopsided, love-drunk smile lacing his features. 

You place your bags in the backseat of your car before heading to the driver’s side, hand on the handle as you look up one final time. 

There Jimin stands in the middle of the clearing, the warm afternoon sun bathing him in a halo. There he stands, beautiful, and kind, and lovely, and in love. And you are so in love. You wave. He waves back.

And you know that you two will be alright. 

You jump into your car and tug the door shut behind you, keys in the ignition, engine revving, and you sigh, content and feeling confident in life. You peer into the rearview mirror to see Taehyung running up to Jimin, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and waving goodbye to you. You lift your hand up in response, watch as they bid you farewell as you creep towards the slope down the mountain. 

As you drive down the mountain, you take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air, and you smile. 

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

[nohoney]

I Just Want It To Be Us - 1.1

note: Part 1 of the Us series which is originally posted on my ao3 here

Us series masterlist

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, cheating, angsty-ish

summary:

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

1.1 ✧ 1.2  ✧ 1.3

Your mother would be so disappointed if she saw you with your current boyfriend.

“Marry a nice man, honey.”

“When you find someone to settle down with, make sure he’s the one.”

“Don’t flit about from guy to guy, it’s not lady-like.”

All these rules your mother set you up with when it came to finding a boyfriend, you knew it came from a good place in her heart. She was only looking out for you when she told you these things but didn’t she get that dating now was different in this age and time? You’re a free person and you can see however many people you want or you could see no one at all and that was perfectly fine as well.

She has a feeling you’re seeing someone but you haven’t confirmed with her. To be honest, you don’t think you’ll tell her anything about your current boyfriend. It would be for the sake of preserving her little, fragile heart. How horrified would she be if she found out her precious daughter was dating the local drug dealer in her college campus?

He didn’t like being called by his surname and he didn’t seem to like being called by his first name either. The first time he speaks in front of your intro to philosophy class, taking it just to fulfill one of grad requirements, he says to just refer to him as ‘Dabi’. It’s curious to the people who don’t know who he is already but who are they to argue with someone how they should be addressed?

So you call him Dabi.

You called him Dabi the first time you spoke to him in class, asking for notes from the day you missed before in class. You called him Dabi when he found you sitting alone in the library and he kicked your chair to get your attention. You called him Dabi the more you spent time together with him, even past the semester once your one shared class is over and final grades were submitted. You called him Dabi the first time he ever rails you on his cock in the backseat on his car.

You almost forget sometimes that his real name is Touya.

In his off campus apartment, he sits in a chair in front of the bathroom mirror and you stand behind him with plastic gloves over your hands, helping him dye the roots of his hair black. The dye stinks, you hate the smell of it, but he kind of suckered you into doing it for him this time. He promised that if you’d help him, he’d sit through one of your stupid romantic-comedy movies you’d been dying to watch for a while. But you had to tack on a condition if he was going to give you an incentive.

If Dabi watched a movie with you and wasn’t entertained by it enough, he’d always leave to smoke a joint and come back high just so that he could get through the rest of the film.

“No break of any kind unless it’s a snack or pee break, you understand me?” you tell him as you put the final layer of dye on his roots. “And no doing it before the movie starts! I want you sober when we watch it together.”

“Yeah, yeah doll. You have my word.” Dabi passively waves his hand at you as he looks down at his phone.

Your eyes casually glance down at his phone screen and see that he’s in his messages app.

Wonder if someone is trying to get him as a connect. You think to yourself as you dispose of the plastic gloves and the remaining hair dye. You’re cleaning up the hair dye tools and open the window to air out the awful smell of the dye, all while Dabi sits in his chair and stares at his messaging app. The sounds of incoming messages from his phone tell you that there’s a conversation going on but his fingers don’t move over the keyboard to respond. It’s not your business how he runs his operations.

“How long do I leave the dye on?” he asks as he stands up from the chair, putting his phone on the countertop, and literally rips the shirt off his body from the neckline down the middle. It’s just a regular t-shirt he bought to protect his skin from the dye dripping onto his body dispensable from the very beginning, but he didn’t have to make a show of it. The shirt drops to the floor in a heap and he kicks it off to the side; you are not picking it up for him.

Dabi’s hot, ridiculously hot, that’s the first thing anyone notices about him. Both his ears have multiple piercings and his nose as well sporting three studs on his right nostril. If he’s wearing short sleeves, the first thing anyone will see that his both arms are tattooed all black, save for where they end, at his hands and shoulders it’s detailed to look like his skin is being held together by staples. On any other person it would look ridiculous to you, on Dabi not so much.

He notices you staring and winks at you, but you scoff at him and push past him to exit the bathroom. “You know how long it stays on, you’ve done this plenty of times before by yourself.”

“I like it when you tell me doll.”

Ah Dabi could be so charming when he felt like it.

You roll your eyes at him but peck him on the lips. “Shut up, I’m going to order in some food for dinner today.”

“Wow, ordering in for dinner tonight. Such housewife material (Name).” Dabi pokes fun at you.

“And you’re going to be the perfect husband Dabi.” you tease back.

You’re not certain if Dabi is long-term boyfriend material, you’ve only been dating for about five months. It’s not a long period of time you’ve spent as boyfriend and girlfriend but you’ve had a lot of fun with him. Although you have to admit that part of the fun you were experiencing with Dabi was because of what he’s introduced you to.

Before Dabi, you’d only smoke a little bit of weed every once in a while or take the occasional edible to wind down. You never had your own stash of it, you’d only partake if a friend supplied or if you were at a party. There was no point in having your own selection if you didn’t really partake in it that much. You were okay with smoking from a joint or a bong every once in a while, maybe take an edible if you wanted something a little stronger than smoking flower.

After Dabi you’d indulge in the occasional gram of coke and maybe some ecstasy if you felt like you could afford to take two days off from work for the come down. There were still others you hadn’t given a try yet, like shrooms or 2CB or do a candy flip, but you were slowly working up the nerve to give them a try when you were ready. Dabi offered you a Percocet but god, never again because you were too fucked up the one time you tried it.

You didn’t really think in your life you’d be involved romantically with a drug dealer but honestly it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

Oh yeah, try explaining that to Mom…

Dab treats you right for the most part, he’s never yelled at you or ever taken his anger out on you either since dating each other, he just sells narcotics on the college campus and he got you into it too, it’s not a big deal. It helped that Dabi took it easy on you rather than just pushing you to do more than you were comfortable with. The first time you were curious about coke, he made you a little thin line of it and it took you more than an hour to decide you were ready before finally snorting it. After that first one, he let you decide how long and thick you wanted your lines to be. He’d cut it nice and neat for you and point to which one was yours to take. Coke felt good but the drip was disgusting in the back of your throat.

Speaking of disgusting…

“Hey, it should have been long enough so wash that gross stuff out your hair and let’s eat dinner.” you called from the kitchen as you plated the takeout food that arrived not too long ago.

You and Dabi sit at his little dinner table with the television streaming some random drama for background noise. Dinner topics for the evening range from school, homework, family news if there is any, and when to coordinate seeing each other next in between classes and your part time job. Conversations go smoothly and you’re cleaning up the kitchen when Dabi comes up behind you and presses a kiss to the back of your head, nuzzling you as you wipe the plates you just ate off of. You feel a sense of dread because every time he does that it means…

“Hey, there’s a house party this Saturday and I gotta work.”

You bite your tongue inside your mouth and exhale through your nose.

He has to work so he’ll be gone for a while, has to disperse his inventory and has to please his regulars as well as find any potential new customers.

If it was just selling, it wouldn’t be an issue.

The real issue is that you know he fucks some of his female customers. No no no, they don’t just get free coke or acid or whatever they’re asking for by spreading their legs for Dabi. He still expects cash as payment, but if he thinks they’re pretty enough then he doesn’t mind getting something extra aside from money after a sale. He’s handsome so why wouldn’t someone want to hop on his lap and go for a ride?

Dabi saves you the trouble by just being upfront about it, swears to you that you’re his favorite and that he only sees the other girls if he’s making a sale, they’re just customers. He goes to them, he goes to their location and fucks them where they meet him. None of his side whores have ever been brought back to his place, not like how he lets you in so easily when you knock on his door. He doesn’t take them out or treat them sweetly like he does with you; it’s just a sale and a fuck. It still doesn’t matter to you though, it still makes you jealous. It makes you clench your jaw in anger and want to just deck him right where his nose piercings are.

You’re his girlfriend but did that title mean anything if he was still going to sleep with other girls?

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

“Fine.”

━━━━✧

If Dabi gets to fuck other girls then surely you have the right to do just the same with boys right?

The thing is though is that you did one time just right before the two of you made your relationship official, you hit up an old fuck buddy of yours while Dabi was out selling at another house party in the middle of the night. He left a measly text saying not to wait up for him and that he’d see you for breakfast. It would have been sweet if not for the fact that he came to your apartment smelling like another girl, just spending just two hours with you before flitting off into the night. Two hours of him on your sofa smelling like someone else, not even offering to shower to get their stench off, and he did his best to placate you before giving up and letting you stew in your own anger.

So you hit up your old fuck buddy and you go to him, you just get straight to the point when you’re let into his dorm and fuck your frustrations out on him. You intended to go straight back to your home but angry fucking took a lot out on you so you just spend the night there instead. “Don’t cuddle me, I’ll be gone in the morning.” you tell him after patting his cheek and pulling the blanket over your body.

It’s a quarter before eight when you’re trudging back to your apartment and you see Dabi leaning against your front door. You’re going to ask how his night was but he abruptly pulls you to him and growls in your ear to, “Get in your fucking apartment… now.”

He knows you went out to get fucked, doesn’t want to know who you went to.

You and him argue for over two hours inside your home, pacing back and forth in the living room. It’s back and forth of ‘it’s just business with those girls’ from him and ‘why shouldn’t I be allowed to do it to you?’ from you. Dabi says it’s just business and they mean nothing to him, claims to you that you hurt him more because you did it out of revenge. He really got you screaming at him after he said that but he didn’t dare back down. He stands firm and so do you, that really gets him angry with you even more.

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

You were jabbing your finger in his chest when he grabs you by the wrist, irritation and exhaustion evident in his turquoise eyes. “Don’t fucking do that to me.” he growls at you.

“Get your fucking hands off me Dabi.” you spit back, shaking his hand off your wrist. “Get out.”

“No, we’re not leaving it like this.” he insists. “We’re fucking talk about this.”

You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “No, you want to ‘talk about it’ until I yield to you which is never going to happen! We’re going around in circles! You’re not going to be sorry and I’m not going to be sorry!”

A tense stare off between the two of you for a few seconds.

Next thing you know, you’re pulling off each other’s clothes and you’re forced on your hands and knees in your own bed. The only foreplay you get is a few seconds of rough kissing and Dabi spitting on his fingers to prep you as quickly as he can. When he pushes in, it’s rough and a little uncomfortable but you’re quick to adjust to the punishing pace. He pulls your hair too hard, you backhand him in the face, he spanks you until your ass is red and aching, you dig your nails into his back and scratch achingly slow down his flesh to make sure it really hurts.

Hate fucking with Dabi was a whole new level of intensity for you but you keep up with him until it turns into slow love making.

The biting, angry dirty talk from the beginning turns into whining praises; from ‘you spiteful, fucking bitch’ to ‘my pretty, little angel’.

“Fuck babydoll, you know how good you feel? I think I’ve fucked you so much that your pussy’s shaped to take just my cock. This cunt damn near drained me dry but I still want more. Cum on my cock more, tell me how bad you want it.” Dabi whispers into the skin of your shoulder before licking a trail up to your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Ugh, baby it’s so fucking good, only you know my body like this. I don’t want it from anyone else but you… shit, I’m going to cum again!” you groan as you clamp down on him once more and your pussy strangles his cock for more cum.

You fall asleep after two hours of fucking, your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm around your shoulders to keep you close. The both of you are all fucked out but your mind is still fixated on the fight. Despite the intimate sex that’s brought you closer together after rounds of hate fucking, it doesn’t change the fact that Dabi still fucks his customers sometimes and you’re still resentful about it.

“If it makes you feel better then fine (Name), you can fuck who you want.” Dabi says to you when the both of you wake up and are pulling your clothes back on your bodies. “But know this, if you want to be in on this then you’re just going to have to accept that I’ve been doing this since before I met you and it’s not going to stop just because we’re together. So go ahead, fuck who you want but as long as you always come back to me. I always come back to you, don’t I sweetheart?”

You’re smoothing your hair down, taking in his words before looking up at him and asking, “We’re together?”

Dabi’s eyes are full of mirth as he approaches you, pulling you close to his body and squeezing one of your asscheeks in his hand. “You’re my favorite, my number one, I like you (Name). The things I do for you, what I’ve done to you, no one else gets that from me.”

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

But funnily enough even though he gave you permission to sleep with whoever you wanted, you didn’t really have the desire to do so. He comes to you smelling like other girls sometimes and that should be your cue to go find your own rando to hump on but you just… don’t.

Part of you wonders if Dabi is happy that you don’t go around like he does despite his blessing. You’re resentful towards yourself sometimes that you don’t go out and have some fun with someone else too. He gave you permission so you should take him up on it, that makes sense given the circumstances. Apparently the only thing that was important to him was that he always be your priority the same way that you were his.

Maybe at the time you just wanted the rush of revenge and now it was different that Dabi took that away from you by giving you permission. Maybe he knew that once he gave you the green light that you weren’t going to bother anymore with seeking anyone else out.

You were certain that he was manipulating you but you didn’t have solid evidence so there wasn’t much you could do. What the hell were you supposed to say to him?

Hey Dabi you tricked me into not sleeping with other people?

Dabi did always give you a heads up at least when he was going out to sell and he always tried to make you happy when he comes back. He offers to order in your favorite food, bring your favorite bottle of alcohol with your favorite juice to chase, eat you out until you’re a quivering mess on his mouth, or nudges half of a tablet of ecstasy in your hand and says that he just wants to put on music and house roll with you.

It still doesn’t change that you get jealous no matter how many sweet things he does for you.

But you like him enough to deal with his shenanigans… just barely.

━━━━✧

“Why don’t you come with me?” Dabi asks you as soon as you’re back from work. You’re tossing your purse onto your sofa and drop your body onto the cushions, your head in his lap and seeking his warmth. His hand goes to your head to start massaging your scalp, his fingers working magic and making you groan in pleasure. “Come with me tomorrow doll.”

You roll your eyes and turn your head to look at whatever show Dabi was watching while he was waiting for you. “To watch you flourish your business? I don’t think so. I’ll stay behind like I usually do.” you scoff, pressing your cheek against his leg and sighing.

He’s never asked for you to come along before, he doesn’t need the distraction of babysitting you. You wonder what’s caused him to ask you to tag along.

“Come on doll, just come along. Odds are I won’t be coming back the night of the party and Keigo will be there tomorrow, he can keep you company.”

Ah you loved Keigo, he was the only one that Dabi really considered to be a friend to him. Maybe it was because he could keep up with your boyfriend in regards to their drug consumption but you could see that they had a bond beyond just getting high together, more than just pills or powders or tabs that keeps them together. Together they both seemed like laid back individuals but Dabi only seemed laid back due to how apathetic he was whereas Keigo was actually a chill person because that’s how he actually was, it wasn’t just the air about him that made him seem so.

You loved being with Keigo, he always spoiled you silly and made you laugh.

“I don’t know, what exactly will I get out of it?” you shrug your shoulders and huff out quietly.

Suddenly two little baggies come into your view, one filled with white powder and the other with a little pink tablet. “Is this supposed to be a bribe to get me to come along?” you ask, staring at the bags and not bothering to take them from your boyfriend’s fingertips. You won’t lie that it is a little bit tempting, just a little bit.

“Maybe so, you know that my merchandise for you is discounted doll. Nothing but the best for you, my shit is always clean.” Dabi shakes the little baggies as if the contents are going to be more enticing if he does so. There’s definitely a big truth to what he said, the quality to his inventory is nothing less than superb. It’s why his clientele always kept on coming back to him but the absolute best was either for his favorites or it was apart of his own personal stash.

You’re staring hard at the baggies and start debating in your mind. Dabi would still give it to you even if you insisted that you stay home but there was no fun in doing it alone. You had some friends that could help you kill the coke if you asked them over but god forbid they start feening, that’s when they became difficult to deal with. There was no point in you holding onto them either if you weren’t going to do anything with them right away.

Since Keigo was going to be at the party tomorrow and if Dabi was going to give the baggies no matter what…

“Alright, only since Keigo is going to be there. Nothing else.” you give in and pluck the two baggies from Dabi’s hand and sit up on the sofa. “Now how much do I owe you for your merchandise sir?”

Dabi smirks at you as he crawls over you until you’re lying flat on your back, like you’re his prey and he’s the predator. “Just your usual payment madame, if you please.”

[jaskiersvalley]

I absolutely love your writing!! It's so very enjoyable and your au's are absolutely delightful. I just thought you should know.

Thank you so much, Nonnie! AUs are something I really enjoy and to hear that others find them fun makes me so very happy. As a little thank you, here’s another AU feat Kaer Morhen Radio and a Jaskier driving an 18 wheeler.

Life was a lonely one on the road. There were many acquaintances and other drivers Jaskier had a passing friendship with, Valdo Marx had the annoying habit of having similar routes to him - they did say mimicry was the highest form of compliment. Alas, nobody was a steady presence in Jaskier’s life. Well, nobody who was aware of him. Though there was the Kaer Morhen Radio family. They were the closest Jaskier had to everyday friends, as sad as that sounded.

“Good morning fuckheads.” Such a declaration could only mean it was 6am and Lambert had taken over. Instinctively, Jaskier was smiling as he sat up with a yawn. Most radio stations liked to gently rouse listeners with swelling music that got more up beat as the day went on. Not Kaer Morhen Radio. They had Lambert as their morning DJ, there to wake sensitive ears in more and more creative ways. He had become known for his unique way to wake listeners up; from bringing in pots to bang to trying to imitate the mating call of a moose at full volume. The only thing listeners loved more than Lambert being a general prick was his flirtation with Aiden who did weather and traffic announcements.

“And, in those four famous words: and now, the weather,” Lambert announced gleefully. After a long moment of silence, he snickered. “We shall have to give Aiden a moment to climb out from under the desk and rinse his mouth. In the mean time, here’s a banger.”

The banger, Jaskier was surprised to find, was quite literally a recording of someone (possibly Lambert) attempting to play drums (badly) on some kitchen pots. By the time the piece reached its rather boisterous end, it seemed that Aiden was no longer preoccupied.

“The weather today-” Jaskier tuned Aiden’s words out in favour of figuring out whether he was messing around or whether he really did sound so husky and gravelly thanks to having his throat fucked. It was quite the conundrum and Jaskier spent the start of his morning drive wondering how many complaints Lambert and Aiden will get now. Their record was 36 for the game of “identify that noise” wherein they stuck their fingers in various containers and made them squelch. To that day, nobody knew whether the last one really was, in Lambert’s words, “Aiden’s well used hole and my come”.

Afternoons were much more peaceful. Eskel took over at 2pm and he was laid back, played soothing music and gave the impression of being a very calm and reliable member of society. Jaskier always maintained it was an impression because, among all the chat, Eskel would sometimes drop a strange little fact that made him do a double take or two.

“This next song,” Eskel had once said, “was written while under the influence of cocaine.” It was a reasonable enough fact to share, Jaskier had been listening while stuck in a traffic jam along a motorway. “How they managed to write it though, I have no idea. Cocaine is terrible for your focus, I could barely scratch an itch before being distracted by something else. So kudos to the writers for creating a whole song while off their face.”

Which was something Jaskier had never thought Eskel would know anything about. He always seemed to demure, the solid rock of Kaer Morhen Radio. He balanced out Yennefer’s news updates perfectly. It was probably why Jaskier liked him so much, now that he thought of it. The surface innocence mixed in with hints of a very colourful life lived beneath the steady exterior. Well, hints other than the incident where Eskel somehow managed to not turn his microphone off and had a conversation about going to a rave with someone who worked at the radio station. Nobody knew the man’s name and his answers were half muffled but listeners swore they heard him suggest something along the lines of a collar and leash - which Eskel had hummed in agreement to, sounding all too happy. When questioned, Eskel resolutely refused to name the mystery man but conceded that there had been a rave. Jury was out whether Eskel had grumbled about being ‘in ecstasy’ or ‘on ecstasy’ for it. And there was definitely a picture of floating around the internet of him in a collar at what definitely looked like an underground rave.

The real reason Jaskier listened to Kaer Morhen Radio was the late night DJ. 10pm on the dot, Eskel would flick the switch and a prerecorded intro played, announcing that it was Late Late Nights with Geralt. Between 10pm and 6am, Geralt manned the station. The only reason Jaskier knew his name was because of the intro. Otherwise the man was silent other than a few hums between songs. Sometimes, presumably when he knocked something over, there would be a growled “fuck” that listeners lived for.

As little as Geralt said, Jaskier was in love. The music was eclectic and death metal could be followed up by electro swing or grime. There was to way to predict just what Geralt would play next, he didn’t take requests, didn’t talk to his listeners. But, somehow, he still drew them in. Jaskier had made the mistake of looking Geralt up online and swooned a little at the few pictures available. It seemed Geralt was an elusive man, somehow managing to turn away from cameras with an uncanny ability. Though a few pictures did exist of Lambert and Eskel on either side of him, quite literally holding him down for a photo.

Truthfully, Geralt was one of the main reasons Jaskier chose to do overnight hauls. Not only did they pay better, he also had Geralt’s nonverbal grunts and hmms to look forward to. He was well aware that it was an infatuation and nothing more. He’d never met Geralt before, Geralt wasn’t even aware of his existence. So, really, Jaskier could daydream all he wanted but had no intention of doing anything more.

Except, Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder. Geralt had such range in his musical taste, maybe he would like what Jaskier wrote. It was a rare night off and Jaskier was well into the bottle with Valdo when they got talking, egging each other on about who was the better musician. It ended with Jaskier drunkenly posting a CD of his music to Kaer Morhen Radio, addressed for Geralt. When he woke up in the morning, on the floor next to his couch which was occupied by Valdo, Jaskier groaned.

Thankfully, there was never a mention or even a single note of his music in the next week. Slowly, Jaskier relaxed, only a little disappointed that his music hadn’t even been acknowledged by Geralt. He almost had a heart attack when eight days later, Lambert came on air with a mad cackle.

“Morning fuckheads!” Lambert sounded more cheery than ever before. “You’ll never guess what I found. Geralt has been hoarding new music. Good music. Said it was for him. Well, I have decided he cannot hold this back from us. If you’re listening, Jaskier, your note was hilarious. I hope your hangover was worth it. Thanks for the CD!”

There was a growl that sounded like Geralt storming into the booth but the microphone was cut and Jaskier’s song started playing. Jaskier almost crashed his truck in shock. Especially when Lambert declared it so good, they would play it again and, sure enough, the song went back to the beginning to play twice in a row.

If it had just been Lambert, Jaskier would have quietly died of shame, accepting that he was being mocked. But Eskel got in on it too. That afternoon he introduced Jaskier’s song with the promise that management were looking into getting in touch with him about the music. Even worse, a listener even requested the song later that evening. Jaskier was both in heaven and hell at the same time. That night, Geralt didn’t play his song and Jaskier was only a little disappointed.

His phone rang the next day.

“Good afternoon, my name is Vesemir, I’m calling from Kaer Morhen Radio. May I speak to Jaskier?”

Jaskier promptly choked. He got an invitation to the studio. It was a good seven days of driving away and Jaskier searched for a contract that would take him across the continent. While he drove, he got a bit braver and started e-mailing the radio station on his breaks.

His written request for songs were acknowledged by a hum and the song coming on next. When he asked Geralt for a shout out, he got obnoxious pop music playing instead. So Jaskier asked for two hums if Geralt wanted to meet and three if he didn’t. Thus, there was a “fuck” on air and the Beauty and the Beast theme song started playing. It was safe to say Jaskier didn’t understand it but he wasn’t deterred.

By the time Jaskier got into town and made his delivery, it was almost 6am. There was no time he had been specifically invited for and he ended up approaching the building at the same time Lambert showed up with Aiden and three large cups of coffee in hand.

“Excuse me,” he called out, “I’m here to see Vesemir.”

“Bit early for that.”

“He never gave me a time so I figured an early start would be appreciated.” It wasn’t exactly a lie but Jaskier kind of wanted to meet Geralt who would be finishing up soon.

For some bizarre reason, Jaskier was led into the radio studio, no questions asked. Surely it was a security issue but then again, Jaskier checked out Lambert and Aiden, they would no doubt be able to handle any issues. Then there was Geralt, stepping out of the booth, Lambert’s intro queued up. He froze when he spotted Jaskier and, curiously, glanced away, seemingly all shy. The curious response was explained away all too soon. There, on the wall, was Jaskier’s CD and a polaroid of him and Valdo, helpfully labeled “The Talent” with an arrow to Jaskier and “The Fake” pointing at Valdo.

“You here for Vesemir?” Geralt asked eventually, sipping at one of the cups Lambert had brought.

“Amongst other things,” Jaskier replied.

“He won’t be here until 10. Why don’t we go grab breakfast while you wait?”

Aiden wolf whistled at that and Lambert whooped, arms in the air.

“My dear fuckheads,” he purred into the microphone, “we have a date between our local cryptid and our mystery siren. Please wish them luck.”

It turned out that, in person, Geralt was a bit more talkative than on air. And Jaskier helped fill any silence without any problems. He ended up being later than planned to meet Vesemir and Tissaia who had a very handsome cheque for him for playing his music and also his phone number with the promise of passing it on to some connections who had expressed an interest in his music.

Never before had Jaskier thought he would thank Valdo Marx for anything. But, one drinking session with him had landed Jaskier with not only a contract with a record label but also a boyfriend. With his first pay, Jaskier send Valdo the biggest bouquet of flowers humanly possible.

[ginkgomoon]

Helios- A Character Study

I have always been fascinated by Helios so I’m especially excited about this post! If there’s any other additional information you would like to add, ask, or discuss, feel free to send an ask or a post so I can adjust and clarify for you. But before that, I have other things I want to add that are important regarding my blog- I will be expanding and analysing other characters in MLQC, so not to worry Victor, Kiro and Lucien (and Shaw, Eli?, Savin?) stans! I has't not hath left thee! In addition, before every analysis/study that I do, I will post a hint (such a quote) that will foreshadow the upcoming character/topic I will be covering. I know it’s not necessary and literally nobody does it but this is great fun for me so I also want to try to make it fun for you guys to approach my blog and my work! This is a spoiler buffet. Please don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled! This is probably the longest post ever on my blog so enjoy :)

“You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” -The Dark Knight

Who is Helios?

??: Do you know what Helios means? The mocking in his face had returned. He suddenly came close and placed his hand on the window behind me. I was imprisoned in his arms and couldn’t move. His eyes drilled into my own. I felt that if I showed even the smallest hint of discomfort or fear, he would use that as an excuse to push me away. MC: Helios is the sun god from Greek mythology- ??: I don’t like that name.

Helios is the God of the Sun, sight and a guardian of oaths. He is seen to be riding a golden chariot to bring the sun across the skies each day from east (where the sun rises) to west (where the sun sets). 

Kiro has lots and lots and lots of sun, light, dark and shadow imagery attached to him. Kiro is noted to be everyone’s sun, especially for MC and vice versa as she’s noted to be the one to chase the darkness away with Kiro following through. When he has those stage moments as his idol identity, it’s expected for him to be the guiding light (especially for his fans, the Kirophiles)- “the sun” and “hope” as to what “Kiro” represents, without any impurities associated with that persona. Which is ironic for Helios, who dressed mostly in black without the blonde hair, to have that same name as the God of the Sun working in BLACK SWAN- the organisation with the name literally having “black” in it as well. 

“If Kiro is this exuberance and this life, Helios is the opposite of that. It’s what if we took someone who stopped finding reasons to be happy, who stopped finding a lot of things to be passionate about and was just trying to get on day by day- they react to the things that happen to them, rather than going out to look for adventure. Helios lacks a lot of emotion that Kiro has.” -Sean Chiplock, Kiro’s VA

Kiro and Helios

“If I had a dark side… I should hide it from others, right…? Can I really be imperfect?”

There had been a lot of discussion around Helios in relation to his transformation, whether he was acting and what Kiro’s connection with BLACK SWAN is. 

To clarify, yes- Kiro is Helios. Helios is Kiro. Just like how Kiro admitted to MC that he’s also the hacker KEY. Helios is just one of the personas that Kiro has (which I will expand on in a future post). This, however, does not hinder negatively on Kiro’s personality, but introduces us to another side of him, one that shows effective in-depth characterisation. Especially when we first view him as the cheerful idol with the power to passively attract others. Kiro first gave off the certain impression to Sean Chiplock that you “don’t take off the calm and quiet person, because you don’t want to see the other side of them”. 

Kiro and Helios, which one was the real him? Neither? Or both? -Clinic Date

Before MC has her first encounter with Helios, we have to look more into Kiro’s background and childhood. 

Kiro was experimented on as a kid. He didn’t know his name, his birthday or where he came from. Through the experiments of genetic modification, he obtained his evol. Only when MC and the original KEY came to him, did he really strive to fulfil his sense of purpose of “we shall stand in darkness as we defend the light”, and also to protect MC back. His mentor used to be the original Helios, one of the twelve-ranking positions in BLACK SWAN, but went missing when Kiro was 15. Been given the name Kiro, using his idol identity, accepted this as Helios and as of the leader of BLACK SWAN to rid Leto- the true evil of the Season 1 timeline.

It is evident that he does genuinely care about his fans, his career and music despite all of this. This aspect of him is very much true (we see that he exposes a person scamming his fans in Chapter 3 and that in his various dates he dedicates his work to comforting his fans in their everyday lives). However, with this much love and support from everyone with very few knowing his true intentions and darker past, it is easy to “trip up” upon these identities, in a way that he would feel so lonely (as I reiterate what I said above) that everyone would think he’s the perfect man (not saying he isn’t because we all know he is!) without any troubles or experiencing difficulties climbing up the ranks to be where he is now- especially with his evol being charm and control. He would wonder if it’s really him or his evol making people act this way towards him (why he has this much love and attention). 

In reality, every teacher who has met him adored him very much. But because of this, Kiro always remained in fear. From the beginning to the end, he had felt that the love and care from others was akin to smoke - surging at first, but from thereafter, dissipates gradually. -CN Stunning Young Idol Rumours and Secrets

He’s like a little sun with no dark spots at all. No wonder people say people say he has a super power. He seems to be loved by everybody… -Chapter 3-1

“A lot of people adore me, but only when I’m doing my thing on stage. They wouldn’t want to see me now...” -Visiting Hours Date 

It would be incredibly hard for him to keep this standard and uphold these burdens with his identity as Helios and KEY as well- where everyone would believe those personas of him to be the “vice”- the “evil”, in morality play. Because when the people who love you only know and love this side of you, what becomes of you when you lose it all?

Superstar Kiro was a little angel who received the admiration and respect of thousands and thousands of fans. What the hacker KEY sounded like was someone with malicious intentions.

-

Kiro didn’t know which one of his identities was more famous. Though of course, nobody would correlate these two polar-opposite identities together. -CN Heavens Home for Children Rumours and Secrets

He always looked so carefree in front of people, smiling and laughing. But when he was alone in the corner, he always looked so solemn and tired. Countless times, Savin had wanted to talk to Kiro about his work, life and feelings but with just a few words, Kiro would always put him to ease. -That Boy Makes Me Worry Rumours and Secrets

However, behind his brilliant smile, I could occasionally feel something different. It was like paper that couldn't be penetrated. After all, he was a superstar. Ordinary people like us wouldn't understand their world, they must have one or two faces of their own behind the screen. -Secret Base Rumours and Secrets

In the makeup room, sitting on the sofa, Kiro had lost some shine he had under the spotlight and looked a little bit exhausted.  -Confession Date

In a way, Kiro still staying so pure and happy when others are around is because he doesn’t want people to suffer like he did. He had an extremely rough time when he was young, but his beliefs, light and hope that MC gave him allowed him to fight for better days. 

I then thought about the superstar Kiro many years later, who was always shining and effortlessly charming. This made me really sentimental. How many things must he have been through to become strong enough to bring light to other people? -Echoes of Time: Parisian Salon

She looked so pretty when she smiled, and she also had a father who loved her dearly. She was definitely… someone who deserved to live the most. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

His dazzling smile conceals something underneath, just like how the dazzling sun shrouds darkness underneath. Hidden in the depths of his own secrets are things even darkness doesn’t know of. If darkness had a mind of its own, it might think it doesn’t fit with this pure and simple youth. Just as how everyone thinks of him as a simple, innocent Kiro, the sunlight casted on him, able to pierce through him completely, with rays of light refracting onto the floor.  Actually, since a very long time ago, he no longer was a youth… But now, for her sake, he’s willing to become a youth again. -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

The thing I like most about you is that you never admit defeat and you always stay positive. Every time I see you it's like you’re this brilliant sun and I feel charged of energy. Maybe all the lonely times I’ve been through... was so that I could meet you. -Confession Date

When they were younger, they were together as test subjects for evol. MC promised him donuts. He gave her a stuffed teddy bear. Kiro tried to help MC escape but they got caught and separated. They had spent quite some time together, so Kiro would be able to recognise MC once they had met again. Kiro had to replace another child for a top experiment, and the workers thought he’d die anyway as he was too weak. But still, he had survived and became the first and only successful subject. MC showed him that there was kindness- light- that still existed in the darkest of places. And in the darkest parts of his heart, there was MC to light those areas up for him :)

“Look, this world is so beautiful, and you don’t need to be afraid anymore.” But till now, he has yet to find her. But he remembers her eyes. And one day, he will find her within a vast sea of people. 

Kiro remains speechless- quietly listening to the little girl speak. The little girl struggles to pull on his hand. Their fingers interlock together, the warmth from her palm gradually coursing into Kiro’s heart. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Kiro turns to look at her - to look at her perseverant brown eyes, looking at how the corners of her lips turn upwards. Kiro slowly learns how to curl the corners of his own lips from her. It’s the first smile to have appeared on his face.  “This time, I’ll be the one protecting you.” Kiro says excitedly. He stands outside the airport, staring directly at the sun. “I’ll find you, and protect you. I even have a mountain of souvenirs stored in my luggage- I’ll give them to you! And my purest heart - I’ll give it to you too!” -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

Helio’s Transformation

“Because only you can awaken me from darkness, no matter when.”

When Kiro transforms to Helios, it mainly affects his physical appearance. His hair grows longer and changes to colour, and his black (and super cool) NIRVANA tattoo appears. When he is weak, the tattoo fades (seen in Clinic Date.)

Nirvana- a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth. It represents the final goal of Buddhism.

I looked at his silver hair. It looked very natural with no signs of hair dye. In the serene moonlight, it was very beautiful. It wasn’t dyed, and it didn’t look like it turned silver because of an illness or something. -Chapter 17 

Helios’s ring also plays part of his transformation. This is ultimately connected to BLACK CABIN and the 1908′s White House Explosion- when evol was born. From this high-dimensional space, Kiro is able to take on as Helios- who also known to be BS’s first generation of god. He can change upon his will, and influences from BLACK CABIN/QUEEN can cause him to lose control.

The golden hair mixed with the bright silver. He raised his finger, and the silver ring flashed. He muttered quietly, as if speaking to the ring and to himself. -Behind The Curtain Part 6: After Returning 

Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating his silver hair with a golden glow for an instant. He buried his face in his right elbow, and large beads of sweat formed on his brow, as if a kind of uncanny transformation was occurring. “NOT NOW!!!” He howled hoarsely, his eyes now golden in the darkness. Residual power inside the Quarantine zone appeared to be affecting him. Violent forces jolted in the tiny space, and coursed through his obsidian ring. -Night Watchman Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 14

He turned and looked at me, his face a pallid white. His smile was still gentle. Suddenly, I felt intensely uneasy. 

MC: “We’re going in, right?”

Kiro didn’t answer, his eyes intent on me gleamed with a flash of golden light above. When I looked carefully, I discovered his eyes turned into this exquisite gold like pure amber, or crystallised time. 

Kiro: “I command you…”

I have never heard him sound like this before. Stiff, stern and solemn.

“All within my range of control belongs to me. Now walk onto the rooftop, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in… including me... Don’t be afraid. You’ll be okay. I said before, I will definitely succeed this time. I will always protect you.” 

In saying this, he believes that his own sacrifices are necessary, no matter what the situation is. Kiro is willing to dim or even smother his own light and sun for MC to be safe and happy. 

A black figure suspended in the air behind Kiro, just like scythe-toting Death himself… I seemed to see a golden-winged bird fly by, like a ray of light crossing the sky, leaving a temporary light trail in my vision.

“Death”, “golden-winged bird”, and “light”.

This sentence was highlighted in the chapters’ outline from the chapter contents. This implies the symbolism of the phoenix bird- the mythical bird that rises from the ashes and is reborn again. Kiro was captured by BLACK SWAN as punishment and had undergone modification- and was resurrected as Helios.

Chapter 17

He was standing in front of me. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but I could see the sharpness of his eyes and eyebrows. He took the notebook away from my hands before I could finish my sentence.

As MC gets tied to the table, flashbacks from suppressed memories emerge. We see Kiro and MC together being test subjects. (Fun fact- Kiro and MC’s blood type is O!) 

White walls. A deserted lab. A cold med table. And a blond boy with agony in his face. Next to him lay a brown-haired girl who was unconscious. …Was that me? I looked at the blood pouring out from the IV. Tears came from my eyes. Kiro… Our lives were connected long before. But where are you now?

She finally realises that Kiro was that boy from the orphanage.

 AND I JUST REALISED SOMETHING. HAS HELIOS NEVER OUTRIGHTLY ADMIT THAT HE’S NOT KIRO? LIKE HE NEVER SAID “NO”?? 

MC: Are you really not Kiro?

??: How long are you going to keep calling me by that wrong name?

(Yes, it’s technically the wrong name because right now he’s called Helios but he’s also technically still Kiro!)

He didn’t sound particularly annoyed, but I felt saddened.

MC: I…

I looked at his face. Every line, feature- they resembled Kiro, but at the same time wasn’t.

MC: I’m sorry… I must be wrong…

I hung my head low. His face may resemble him, but his expressions were so unlike Kiro and I didn’t want to see that.

But my intuition told me that my hunch was not wrong. If that was correct, then one of my paths was already sealed.

-

Helios: What makes you think that I wouldn’t? You already know where I’m from. Why are you being so naïve? I shook my head. MC: Kiro wouldn’t do this to me… An unknown emotion flashed in his eyes. 

Poor Kiro, having to pretend to not know MC and act so cold towards her. It must have been incredibly hard and painful for the both of them. Please just LET THEM BE TOGETHER. 

Kiro isn’t risking MC see this darker side of him. He truly doubted if anybody would accept him as Helios, because he was just so used it before as an idol having to act so perfect on screen, showing everybody what they wanted to see.

-

“MC. Step a meter away from him, and close your eyes.

The golden flashes in his pupils were the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

“I command you to forget what just happened. And I command you to forget about me. Remember, I’m just Helios.”

My memories were being erased bit by bit. Kiro was fading from my sight. His smiles, his eyes, his warmth… all of them became vague like a fog and disappeared. I tried my best to hold onto them, but it was all in useless.

Kiro… Even the name I tried to hold on till last was wrenched away from me. He watched silently as MC closed her eyes and blacked out in his arms.

“I’m sorry…”

He apologised again quietly. His eyes that once held warmth and brightness were again now filled with shadows.

“I will find the truth that you’re looking for. I don’t want you to bear that heavy burden. I’ll come back to you some day, but not today. Don’t remember my dark sides. In your eyes, I will always remain Kiro to you. After I take care of everything, things can go back the way they were between us. This time, I’ll make sure that you don’t have to wait long.”

-

“He looked a lot like Kiro. But it wasn’t him.”

In my palm was a small candy glistening in the sunlight. On impulse I unwrapped the paper and put it in my mouth.

MC: Apple flavour…

It somehow crossed my mind that it was Kiro’s type of flavour.

He wants MC to still have faith in him, and to trust in his abilities to protect her, as the candy is a motif for their relationship and exchange towards each other. (This was the same back in the orphanage when they were together too.) However, as his identity as Kiro, not the Helios she encountered. (Dramatic ironyyyy)

“We shall stand in darkness as we defend the light.”

Thorns Date 

In the photo, Kiro looked completely different from what he usually looked like. On the glistening water, a youth held a birdcage, with a glint of melancholy in his drooping eyes. This was the last set of photos before quitting.

-

Kiro asked for my praise with shiny begging eyes, as if the prior sorrow and blue were all my illusions.

-

We stood very close to each other, yet at this moment, I felt there was a formed gap between us.

“MC, do you think the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

-

There seemed to be a ray of golden light flashing through my mind but I couldn't catch it. (The thought that Helios came to see her?? Yes.)

I remember his distance, his apathy, yet puzzling familiarly. 

Helios saw the magazine falling from my bag, his face flashing with complicated emotions I couldn’t comprehend. And I felt the familiar feeling of being touched deep in my soul. 

“You like gazing at me a lot.” 

-

Standing at the edge of the dark abyss, he opened his arms and leaned backward without hesitation. He fell straightly like a folded winged bird in the moment. (Similes, metaphors and symbolism galore!)

-

I sat on the ground limply and closed my eyes to avoid the dazzling light. This scene felt so familiar as I had experienced such a farewell.. Why? 

My senses told me this man was Helios, yet the feelings from deep of my heart were so real. 

“Helios! Do you… know how the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?” 

“Why do you think I will answer this question?” Behind such eyes, there seemed to be something else I couldn’t make out in the shadow.

I seemed to see him unfold a pair of black wings on his back and about to flutter away. No more cages could imprison him and nothing could make him stop. Helios walked from the bright light into the shadow. 

He recalled her last question and her sad and confused eyes. Suddenly he recalled an ancient story. There was a kind of bird. It was always trapped in the thorns of fate from the moment of its birth. If the most beautiful thing was doomed to be exchanged with the deepest pain. He would overcome all obstacles to come back to her. And be her sun again.

The story that Helios recalled could be The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen. 

In Ancient China, one of the forests lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully everybody would stop and listen. The nightingale was renowned to be the best wonder out of all the things that the travellers abroad had ever seen. However, the Emperor of China didn’t know that such a bird existed, and demand to have it found.

The bird had come willingly to sing for the Emperor, singing so sweetly that tears came out of everybody’s eyes. The nightingale lived in the court thereafter, until one day the Emperor had received a mechanical copy of the bird, golden with precious gems and all. The nightingale had left, and all the courtiers had said that it was an ungrateful creature. It was therefore banished from the empire. 

The mechanical bird had stopped working, only being able to play once every year. Five years had passed, and the Emperor fell ill that nobody expected him to live. Death had arrived to the Emperor as he prayed for the bird to sing a note. The living nightingale had appeared again, and had come to sing out of trust and hope for the Emperor. Death went to look at the Emperor’s renowned garden as the Emperor was thankful for the bird’s singing. She sang again, and the sun rose through the window and as everybody thought the Emperor had passed. The Emperor wanted the nightingale to stay by his side but it refused. It cannot live in the palace, but promised to visit the Emperor to sing to him. 

A black figure suspended in the air behind Kiro, just like scythe-toting Death himself… I seemed to see a golden-winged bird fly by, like a ray of light crossing the sky, leaving a temporary light trail in my vision.

Similar to Chapter 14, in this date, Kiro is represented as the bird, trapped in the cage. He had to release what everyone wanted him to be- Kiro, the shining sun/bird trapped in the cage under their control- ironic how his evol is absolute control because his charm would have drawn people this way in as a result. And the only way to be free was to be resurrected, to escape, to disappear from public view- to become free as Helios.

Light Pursuit Date 

“Will you forget me?”

Kiro was becoming faint like a water mist. Panicking, I reached out to grab him but he slipped away from my fingers. An invisible wall had come between us and I couldn’t get close to him. This one step was like an unbridgeable gap between us, but it was like a line that we could never cross.

Will I forget Kiro? That sudden question in my head became clearer, and made me tremble in panic.

-

He had the name of a sun god, but even I couldn’t feel any bit of warmth.

MC: What is Helios here for?

Helios: We meet again, MC.

This was the first time that Helios called me by my name. He was brusque as ever, but there seemed to be a small amount of yearning in his voice. He did not act the way like the Helios that I used to know. His attitude and manners were surprisingly refined… like he was acting out a whole different persona.

-

The music changed into Por Una Cabeza- the tango song that I was very familiar with.

(I absolutely love the intertextuality that the game has. It’s a Spanish tango song that was also appeared in Scent of a Woman starring Al Pacino where the tango scene featured a blind man dancing with a woman who didn’t know how to dance and was scared of making mistakes. This correlates perfectly for MC and Helios. MC’s body is reacting to Helios as if he was Kiro...)

I didn’t drink, but I felt drunk somehow. Otherwise how else would this reachable warmth and illusion of intimacy familiar? 

We were so close to each other, but the distance between us was only one step away, but a step we could never cross.

-

Helios looked up when he heard my voice. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. His blue eyes wavered like a lake sprinkling with sunlight. Surprisingly, there was sorrow, and naivety in those usually unfeeling eyes.

He lowered his head and his chin rested on my shoulder. I have never seen Helios so vulnerable. His hands were wrapped around my waist, leaving no space between us. Helios didn’t answer and continued to keep me pressed to his body. There was a deep aura of loneliness and bitterness about him that was barely discernible from his cold exterior.

-

Because to me, you were familiar to someone I deeply care about. Because my soul resonates when I am close to you. Because…. of a ridiculous assumption. Did I reach the edge of truth? Or was I just deceiving myself? A thick fog was obscuring me from seeing the truth clearly. I didn’t continue talking or thinking. MaybeI was so vaguely aware that this was the closest I could get to him. Only one step away but a distance I could never close.

MC is also scared. She’s in turmoil. She wants to know the truth but she’s also sitting on the fence with it. Especially due to the memory wipe. It’s like, “maybe it’s better if I don’t,” and “I think you are that someone I care so much about but I can’t be sure about it because even if I ask you, you won’t tell me, and I don’t know what to do.” 

:(

Stardust Date

Kiro: That’s right. I’m going to a far, far place. And I will stay there for a very long, long time. Don’t cry when you start missing me. MC: I’m not going to cry!

Kiro: But I will. So promise me, alright? Don’t forget me, even if I leave. 

Two days afterwards, I heard him talk to someone on the phone. I’m pretty sure it was his voice, but it sounded like he was a completely different person. 

What was he trying to hide? Did it have anything to do with his “leaving”? Was it out of his own will or was he involved in something under duress?

-

The confident smile on his face as he glided his fingers across the keys fluently, showed his passion for this show. As songs were played after another, he became more focused. I could tell from his expression that he was fully immersed in this performance. As long as he was given a stage and music, he’d become the centre of attention no matter what position he was in. However, the more passion I saw, the more I was scared for his “leaving”. He is the sun- what will happen to his supporters when they lose him? And what about me? What will happen to me?

Light and Shadow Phone Call

MC: Is that melancholy in your voice? It’s unlike you to be down like this.

Kiro: Really? Does everyone think I’m that shallow?

MC: Of course not. But you are the brightest and warmest sun, so it’s easy to be touched by your optimistic side first.

Kiro: But right now, the sunlight is getting too strong that it’s scorching…

MC: Hmm? Is it? right now it’s sunset where you are?

Kiro: Yes. I’m sitting atop of Namibia’s Dune 45 and everything is red. Even the sun is sinking low.

MC: Soon, it will sink beyond the horizon.

Kiro: Yes… Miss Chips, Since you say I’m like the sun, and the sun eventually sets...

Kiro: If I have a dark side, I should hide it from others, right?

MC: Why should you hide it?

Kiro: Because, I don’t want to show you and I don’t want to disappoint others.

MC: But you’re just you, Kiro.

Kiro: I am who I am?

MC: Yes. Why can’t a sun have shadows? Even the real sun has sunspots! People who really care for you will love both the warm sunny side and the occasional dark, depressed side.

Kiro: But I always feel...

MC: Everyone has a side they want to hide in the shadows. No one is expected to be required as perfect. That applies to my little sun as well.

Kiro: Can I really be imperfect?

MC: Absolutely. To me, all sides of you are worth cherishing.

Kiro: Thank you, MC.

MC: What’s there to thank?

Kiro: Because… only you are willing to see the weak and plain side that I’m hiding and accept both my light and my shadow.

MC: That’s why I’m your own personal tree hole! I’ll keep your sorrows tucked away for you!

Kiro: Thank you Miss Tree Hole. I’m so lucky to have you. In fact, you are my sun who gives me light to embrace the world every morning. Thank you, for always being there by my side.

This call is so significant for Kiro, and his battle between light and dark. After his evol went out of control, he’s afraid of hurting his fans and MC. Similes and metaphors are used to compare his evol/different personas as the sun and how it will soon go down. He confronts the truth that he will also have to leave the public view soon, and uses this opportunity of the call to confirm what MC thinks if he had imperfections/shadow sides. And of course, to thank her before he leaves. 

Chapter 21 (Winter World)

He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves. 

-

“You seem to be completely ignorant about how weak you are.”

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields. he didn’t stop there. He leaned in with his whole body hemming me into the confined space he created. 

Helios: Weaklings should learn to survive on their own. No one will teach you that. 

MC: I don’t want to be a weakling forever.

Helios: Then you better figure out how to become stronger.

He dropped his sarcastic tone. Instead, each syllable fell from his mouth with  upmost earnestness. 

Helios: Use all your strength. Every method you can think of. Abandon your past...even abandon yourself. If you can’t do that, then just go back tot the world you came from.

-

1562 clutched tightly on his friend’s blanket, refusing to let go. However, in the end, he was shoved onto the ground because his strength was too weak. He had collided so hard that he couldn’t get up for a long while.  -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

If MC hadn’t come, then there would be no real sun in his life. He would only have artificial light. And he would be right- Helios would be just Helios. He wouldn’t bother much about fans or music, but using this identity to climb the system. He had to learn the hard way on how to survive. Nobody was there for him, thus it would be harder for him to feel empathy towards others in situations other than this. 

The sun had risen completely. The increasing bright light drowned everything that belonged in the darkness. Helios remembered that day a long time ago. In the darkness, the withered hand touched his head and said faintly, “become Kiro, be the so-called “sun”.

At that time, he had lowered his eyes, nodded blankly, and simply walked out into the night, emitting a false light that was not his own. But today… Helios looked off into the distance, and seeing the dazzling morning light, he remembered the girl… At that moment, he saw the real sun.  -Between Light and Darkness Rumours and Secrets 

From “Behind The Curtain”, MC fell into the space-time gap and was saved by Helios. Even though he couldn’t see her as they were in different dimensions, she could be influenced by him. This wasn’t the first time that he’s tugged on that bond tying them together to BLACK CABIN. Thank you Helios also for helping bring MC back to her original world.

Chapter 28

Kiro: You should know about everything that I’ve done.

MC: I know that... you’re Helios.

Kiro’s eyes flickered and blinked at me. The golden hair under the now eclipsed sunlight seem to have an extra glow to it. Kiro: Is my name really that important?

MC: Why did you hide it from me? I trusted that you would tell me. That no matter what name you had, you really wouldn’t change...

Kiro: If a superhero were to turn into an arch-villain, would those who always believed in him lose hope? What he want most is for you to be a fairy, free of all cares. Not getting hurt, not getting worries, whose only responsibility is receiving signals and joy and happiness.

Kiro: However, if she is determined to go do something difficult, and she wants to bear this burden on her own... then I wish for her to be a little superhero, who can fly through it all with ease.

Chapter 29

“Don’t get all angry. The person beside you didn't even notice any difference between us. Or put it another way, it seems that “you” aren’t important in this role that you’re playing. Anybody can replace you.” -Anole

Anole is wrong (and just jealous). MC did notice, and plus, he probably wouldn’t have survived in the top experiment that Kiro had undergone in the orphanage. That was something only Kiro would have survived, with his willpower and determination in his heart to make a better life for himself and MC- something that Anole clearly lacks.

-

I had never seen Helios laugh before. His smile wasn't as dazzling as his golden-haired counterpart’s, but one could say that if the former him was the sun, then his smile was now a gentle moon.

THE IRONYYY. Helios is finally okay with showing this side of him to her, from watching her go through trials and tribulations in the Winter World with the other Helios- of course he wouldn’t want any danger to be near MC, but knowing that she can handle anything after all that she went through, he now knows that it’s better for her to be with him instead. Also he learnt how to smile from her and now he’s smiling again as Helios and I’m just so happy

Whether in the face of violent, nefarious enemies or a wave of blood and bullets, he’d never shown any fear. I got the feeling that he was somehow nervous, or even afraid. Was it because he had to return into the spotlight, back the shower of roses and applause?

Well… when he decided to give all that up and step into the darkness with no turning back, what was he thinking then?

-

He leaned on the wall and rested awhile, staring intently at the black tattoo on his right arm… he looked at himself in the mirror. His silver strands of hair were tingled with gold, as if bathed in sunlight. And for only that one time, he didn’t avert his gaze from the desire in his eyes. It was like looking at a self portrait—so distant, yet so familiar. It was only now that he realised: this was the moment in his life most worth reliving. Once again, he had become Kiro.

In the PV/Karma (photo down below), we see him wearing black- not as Helios but as Kiro! Again, ironic how he’s holding a comeback concert he’s wearing black, a colour that represents darkness and shadows. It had been noted in the Snooper Rumours and Secrets that this is way out of Kiro’s style wardrobe. However, this signifies a range of things. The two personas are “merging” as he no longer hides this persona to MC- they’re one in the same. It has always been this way and will never change. The colour black also means power and authority, but can mean fear and grief. This is the same outfit when Kiro was doubting himself in the Light Pursuit Date as well. 

Right now, if we’re talking moon phases, Kiro right now is in “the void”. Meaning he’s “nowhere”. He’s Kiro but he’s also operating as Helios. He feels nervous to go back but it does come so natural for him to be in the spotlight. He feels stuck at crossroads with himself, especially when he got forced back to perform by Anole. 

Ultimately, it’s like he’s saying “no matter what becomes of me, I will always stay true to you.” And I think this is perfectly translated as Kiro says, 

“Miss Chips, wait for me.”

(”Wait for me as I fight for us both. So you don’t have to suffer.”) But we suffer either way.

His light and sun has always come from MC. He will always keep running towards his sun, no matter which persona he embodies. This, we can be certain on. (New Season 2 Chapters please don’t oppose this LOL.)

“I await you at the end of the opposite path.”

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welcome to lucky chapter 13!

A few announcements before we begin!

First, we got fan art! Shout out to @ooflifeshard for their art of the Jin/Yin/Tang fusion!

Second, I post extra thoughts on my writing process and the chapter in general on my Tumblr! Look up the tag Fanfiction Live Blogging to read them!

Now let’s get on with the story!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Thirteen: Aspects of Arachnids

The Spider Clan is made up of some interesting people. That includes MK this time.

----------

“So what did you want to talk about Mr. Tang?”

They were taking a walk through a secluded park. Tang had asked to speak with the young man privately once he had woken in this cycle to address a recent memory he had received.

“I wanted to apologize to you, MK,” Tang said. MK tilted his head in confusion.

“What for?”

“For the way I treated you last week.”

MK tensed.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“MK.” Tang turned and placed his hands on MK’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “It’s okay. I know.”

“Know what?” MK was trembling now. He avoided Tang’s gaze, wide eyes darting around as if to look for a place to hide.

Tang gave him a reassuring squeeze and kind smile.

“I know you are the spider demon we saw.”

Last week had been before Tang had woken in the cycle. They had all rushed over to where MK had been fighting a demon alone only to find a spider demon they had never seen before wearing MK’s jacket and bandana while holding the Monkey King’s staff.

The group had, predictably, reacted with hostility. They threatened the demon and attacked him. They hadn’t been able to actually harm him before he got away, and MK had shown up perfectly fine the next day.

Physically at least.

When Tang had gone over the memories earlier this morning, it was obvious to him who the demon actually was. It certainly wasn’t the first time MK was something other than human.

He was also able to see the signs of emotional distress MK was showing over the past week. It was clear that their reaction to his true form was devastating to him.

Tang intended to fix that.

“I didn’t figure it out until this morning,” Tang said when it was clear MK had frozen in fear and wasn’t going to say anything. He pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it right away. You are very important to me and I am ashamed to have made you feel like you were unwanted.”

“You- You don’t mind?” MK clung tightly to the scholar, as if afraid he’d vanish at any moment.

“Of course I don’t. What you are or what you look like isn’t important to me. What matters is who you are and I happen to care about the person you are quite a lot.”

Tang held the young man as he trembled in his embrace. He pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his eyes and giving Tang a watery smile.

“Thank you, Tang.”

“Any time, MK.”

“Do the others know?”

“I haven’t told them anything,” Tang said as they continued their walk. “This is your secret and you should be the one to reveal it when you’re ready.”

“But what if they react like last time?” MK kicked a rock out of his path and seemed to fold into himself. “What if they don’t want to be friends with something like me?”

“First off, that would be pretty hypocritical of them considering both Pigsy and Sandy are technically demons as well and Mei is descended from a dragon. That actually makes me the odd one out in our group as the only human.”

“Huh. Didn’t think of that,” MK said.

“Second, I know they all care about you, MK. I sincerely doubt they wouldn’t be able to look past appearances and see the person we all love.”

“Love?” MK stared wide eyed at Tang.

“I like to think of us as a family,” Tang said. “Even if we aren’t the typical kind, families love each other, and you are a part of that.”

“Family…” MK smiled sadly into the distance. “It would be nice to have more family.”

“There is no ‘would be’ about it.” Tang slung his arm around MK’s shoulders. “We are family and you’re stuck with us no matter what.”

MK gave him a wide grin, leaning into the sideways hug as they continued on their path.

“Aren’t you curious by what I meant by ‘more family’?”

“Of course I am,” Tang said. “But it’s not my place to pry. If you want to talk about that then I’d be more than willing to listen.”

“Oh, well okay,” MK said, perking up a bit. He began to enthusiastically speak about his other family, but never giving any names.

Tang was able to piece together who he was talking about rather easily.

The Spider Queen was his mother. It wasn’t much of a surprise for Tang as she had filled that role for MK in the past, but never quite so literally. From what MK was saying, she seemed to still be that lovingly supportive yet protective type that he had encountered in previous cycles.

The fact that she was a much more active villain in this cycle that MK constantly fought was not addressed.

Huntsman was ‘Uncle H’. He seemed to be the type of person that gave small children lessons on knife wielding just so they could protect themselves. MK had learned all his combat skills in his spider form from him.

Huntsman was certainly a focused and skilled combatant, but, as his many friendships with Sandy across time showed, he also knew how to enjoy the quieter moments in life.

That left Goliath as ‘Uncle G’. The large spider may seem like just a brute who relied on his strength, but Tang had witnessed his soft side a few times. MK spoke fondly of the lullabies Goliath had sang when he was still little as well as his delicious cooking.

Tang wondered how it compared to Pigsy’s creations and mused on how he could try and get a cook off set up.

MK did not speak of Syntax. That made sense as it was still somewhat early in the cycle and the scientist hadn’t really joined up with the spiders until after Demon Bull King’s second invasion.

Tang did his best to recall what he knew about the man. They had been friends and colleagues once in a cycle where they had been professors at the city university.

Syntax could be a bit standoffish to those he didn’t know. Once he warmed up to you though, he loved to go on long tangents about chemistry, biology, and computer engineering. He could also be surprisingly thoughtful, having dropped by several times with an extra cup of coffee on those late nights Tang had been stuck in his office grading papers.

Tang never knew why he started working for the Spider Queen. The scientist had always been a bit ambitious, so he supposed working on something as unique as a serum using bits of the Monkey King’s power was more than enough to sway him.

It was a shame the serum was then used against him and he seemed to lose all memories of his human life.

Tang forced himself back into the present as MK finished up an anecdote about Huntsman and Goliath nearly panicking after MK had fallen asleep in his hiding spot during a game of hide and seek.

“They all sound wonderful,” Tang said once MK had finished.

“Yeah, they are.” MK sighed wistfully. “I haven’t spoken to them in a while though.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… Complicated.”

Tang could certainly understand that considering how they fought each other on a nearly weekly basis.

“Well whatever the reason, it sounds like they care about you just as much as we do,” Tang said. “I’m sure they’d be more than happy to welcome you back into their lives.”

“I know that,” MK said with a huff. “I’m just not sure they'd approve of me being the Monkey King’s successor.”

“I see.”

Tang did see. He had been a part of demon families before and knew how leaving one’s blood to side with an enemy could tear relationships apart. He hoped that wouldn’t happen here with MK.

“In any case, I just hope you know that you have people that care about you and if you ever need help to just ask, okay?”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks Tang.” MK gave him another smile before frowning in thought. “I’m still not sure if I want to tell the others though.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Tang said. “If you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready. I won’t say anything to anyone before you do.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

The rest of the walk was spent discussing lighter subjects such as the latest Monkey Cop movie and which types of noodles were superior.

Tang decided to not bring up his curse this cycle. He knew he could get around the memory seal by simply stating he had a curse but not exactly its effects, but MK already had quite a lot to deal with this time. He didn’t want to add on to that stress with something that couldn’t be fixed.

He hoped that the Spider Clan would come to accept MK as he was, successor to the Monkey King and all. Not just for his sake either, as Tang could already feel four spots slowly opening up in his heart where he kept his love for his family.

It would be hard to bring them into the fold. Much harder than Macaque, the twins, or even the Demon Bull Family.

But Tang was patient.

He would use this cycle to get to know the spiders better. They were already MK’s family this time around.

Perhaps, in time, they could become his as well.

----------

Things went to Hell rather quickly.

New Years went the same as usual, but this time with the added horror of a mutated Macaque.

The shadow demon had been willingly experimented on by Syntax after he had failed to steal the Monkey King’s powers from MK. He now sported an extra set of arms and eyes, had lavender fur, and was in constant pain from the modifications. Wukong had offered him sanctuary, and Macaque had accepted.

MK hadn’t taken it well when he learned that it was his mother who had convinced Macaque to go through with the procedure.

Now something even worse was happening. This was a cycle that not only changed MK’s background, but someone else’s as well.

Lady Bone Demon was much more impulsive this cycle.

She had attacked them all directly this time, before even gathering up the artifacts she needed. They had all been overwhelmed pretty quickly and everyone except MK had been captured. She had then given him an ultimatum.

Give her the Monkey King’s power, or MK’s family would perish.

Lady Bone Demon then ‘graciously’ gave MK twenty four hours to think about it before teleporting away with her captives.

“Hey, where are you taking him?!”

Tang glanced up as he realized that he hadn’t been placed in the same cell as his family. Pigsy and Mei glared at the skeleton guards while Sandy tended to the unconscious Wukong and Macaque.

“Boss only wants five to a cell,” guard one said.

“Hope your friend here isn’t afraid of spiders,” guard two mocked.

Tang blinked at that as the others began to protest loudly. The guards simply laughed and led him away.

Well, he had wanted to get to know the Spider Clan better this cycle, hadn’t he?

After being marched down many winding corridors, Tang was thrown unceremoniously into a different cell.

Tang picked himself up and was confronted with the scowling faces of the Spider Queen and her entourage. They had certainly looked like they had seen better days.

After demanding why he was there, they had dismissed him and went back to trying to come up with a way to escape.

They had mused about eating him for a bit, Huntsman even going as far as to restrain him and brandishing a knife, before Tang had been forced to break his promise to MK. They were skeptical at first, but once Tang began telling the stories he had heard from MK, they believed him.

Spider Queen was emotionally distraught at the thought of harming her baby, but became more resolved than ever to beat Lady Bone Demon once she realized they were being used as hostages against her son.

Huntsman had been a bit more accepting, bragging about how the only reason MK had beaten them so often was from all the training he had given him. Goliath had just asked if he was eating well.

Syntax had been standing off to the side looking uncomfortable before Tang assured him that MK would be more than happy to get to know him.

The Spider Clan had invited Tang into their scheming quickly afterwards. None of their plans were very feasible, but Tang felt his connection to the four grow stronger.

Strange were the bonds you could make when in prison.

Before they could act on any of their plans, the twenty four hours were up and they were whisked away by the magic of their captor.

Tang opened his eyes to find the ten of them suspended in the air by blue ropes as Lady Bone floated in front of them. On the ground was a horrified looking MK.

“Now it is time you choose,” she said. She reached out and grabbed Tang and Spider Queen by their arms, pulling them forwards. “Your powers? Or your family?”

“Don’t listen to her, baby,” Spider Queen called out. “We’ll be fine! Just get out of here!”

“M-mom?!” MK’s mouth had dropped at being recognized.

“Sorry, MK. I broke my promise,” Tang said. “To be fair, your family was planning on eating me before I told them.”

“We said we were sorry about that-”

“ENOUGH!” Lady Bone Demon’s bellow shook the ground. “What is your decision?!”

“I- I can’t-” MK was trembling as he gripped his staff tightly.

“Wrong answer.”

Tang and Spider Queen screamed as they each had one of their arms shattered in her grip. Lady Bone Demon tossed them behind her, the blue ropes re-materializing to bind them as she summoned a large scythe.

“One last chance.” She pulled back the weapon, preparing to strike. “Give me the Monkey King’s power!”

MK roared in rage and seemed to explode into gold, purple, and green light.

Tang gasped in pain as he tried to stay awake. He stared in shock as the light expanded and formed into a giant figure.

Tang had seen the giant form that Wukong would occasionally become to take on much more powerful opponents. Macaque had access to this power as well and so would MK sometimes. It had no official name, but a scroll he had read many cycles ago had described it in a way that Tang couldn’t help but agree with.

Aspects of Destruction.

It resembled MK’s spider form, but with his human half looking more like a monkey’s instead. He had four arms now and each one held a copy of the Monkey King’s staff. The twelve eyes glowed with a burning green malice as they glared at Lady Bone Demon.

Faster than he could blink, Tang watched as MK swung one of his staffs and batted the white demon away from them. MK roared and leapt after her.

The pain from having his bones crushed soon became too much and Tang passed out.

----------

Tang woke up on Sandy’s airship.

He learned it was a few days later. MK hadn’t been able to defeat Lady Bone Demon, but had managed to buy them all the time to escape. They had also managed to pick up Red Son somewhere along the way.

Now, all twelve of them were out of the city looking for a way to defeat her.

The Spider Clan had seemed to integrate easily into their group over the next few weeks.

Spider Queen had already gotten to know Macaque over the course of the experiments, but once Wukong decided to go through the same procedure and gained two extra pairs of arms, she seemed to start flirting with the both of them.

Neither monkey seemed bothered by this and flirted right back.

Huntsman had decided Mei needed proper weapons training with her sword and whenever he wasn’t giving her pointers was drinking tea with Sandy.

Goliath shared cooking duty with Pigsy. The pair gave each other tips and techniques and their meals only became tastier from the collaboration.

Syntax had seemed a bit lost at first, but after completing one of the internet memes MK had quoted, became fast friends with him. He even got to have stimulating scientific discussions with Red Son.

Tang sighed in contentment at dinner one evening as he listened to the conversations around him.

He had never thought he would have longed for a large family, but this just felt right to him.

Tang hoped he would get to experience it more often in future cycles.

----------

The Spider Clan joins the ranks!

I think that leaves only two characters left out of Tang’s family. Considering who they are, I doubt that will happen any time soon.

This chapter takes place in @strange-lace's amazing Spider Monkie AU! It has some great angst and fluff as well as absolutely lovely spider-monkey designs for Macaque and Wukong! Go check it out!

Now technically this AU doesn't have a kaiju form for MK, but I wanted to introduce the concept to the story and it didn't fit anywhere in the coming chapters.

There’s going to be some plot in the next chapter so look forward to it! Until next time!

[the-mirror-witch]

hello! I see you accepted new requests so may I ask for a headcanon/scenario (whichever you prefer!) with the dorm leaders where they see their short s/o wearing their clothes then run away? something like "If you want your clothes back then come and get it~" thank you<3

(Tooo Cuuuutttteeee! 💖💖 I love thiiiisssss!!!!)

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle was fuming, marching through the Heartslabyul like a man on a warpath. Students were ducking out of the way the moment they saw the shade of red on their dorm leader’s face. 

Why was Riddle so angry on what was otherwise a beautiful day? Knowing Riddle, it could have been for any number of reasons. Perhaps Ace had done something mind-numbingly stupid or Cater had posted embarrassing pictures on his Magicam. As it turns out, it was none of these things.

The true reason was that it was nearly time for the Unbirthday Party, and Riddle couldn’t find his dorm leader cape anywhere.

He at first suspected Ace and Deuce of pulling an ill-timed prank on him by hiding his esteemed uniform. They pleaded ignorance, but he still used his unique magic on them just for good measure. 

If Riddle didn’t find his cape soon, he was going to blow up like a boiling tea kettle. 

He happened to pass by one of the open dorm rooms (he would have to yell at the occupants later. Rule #254 stated that the dorm rooms were to be kept locked when not under inspection) and lo and behold, who should he find standing there in front of a mirror, giggling like a child wrapped up in his cape?

Yes, you, Riddle’s darling rose, where the culprit behind this entire fiasco. You may owe Heartslabyul an apology after this. But you simply couldn’t resist yourself when you found Riddle’s cape just lying on his bed. You had ever intention of returning it before Riddle could miss it, but got so caught up in the way the cape enveloped you that you lost track of time.

It also distinctly smelled like strawberries, like a certain redhead you were rather fond of.

The moment Riddle saw you, his face turned red for entirely different reasons. 

The silent moment was short-lived when you noticed Riddle in the mirror, giving you quite a start. You whirled around and Riddle cleared his throat, insisting that return his cape to him.

He should have known by the evil glint in your eye that it would not be that easy. 

So, Heartslabyul was treated to the sight of its dorm leader chasing you down the halls as you laughed like a madman.

Worry not, Cater got plenty of blackmail pictures to share with you later.

Leona Kingscholar:

Poor Ruggie really does get the short end of the bone sometimes, doesn’t he?

But what else was he supposed to do? His giant cat of a dorm leader was too lazy to do his own damn laundry, so Ruggie as Leona’s un-official babysitter had to do it for him.

You were visiting Savanaclaw, something you did on a near daily basis. You happened to stumble upon the disgruntled hyena and, in a moment of sympathy, decided to offer your assistance. 

Your offer was happily accepted. 

The two of you finished the laundry in a timely manner. You were rather pleased with yourself as you admired how nice, warm, and clean you made Leona’s shirt. 

Then temptation hit you like a rhino. Should you? Yes, yes you should.

Before you could second guess yourself, you quickly slipped on Leona’s shirt after making sure Ruggie wasn’t looking at you. You’d never live it down otherwise. 

It was so nice and warm, it reminded you of being cuddled by the lion himself. Such thoughts made you feel rather sleepy. It made you keep the shirt on just another second longer.

That second was all that was needed.

Leona was in a rather grumpy mood (when wasn’t he, tho?). You, little herbivore, were late for your routine napping session. Leona wasn’t one to normally give a flying damn about routine and timelines, but this was rather uncharacteristic of you. 

What was he left to do but to hunt you down himself? 

That was how he came to find you, wearing his shirt like you belonged in it.

The smug lion came up behind you, smirking and asking just what were you thinking, wearing his shirt like that? 

You froze up, unsure what you should say. When Leona smirked at you like that, there was no telling what could happen, and you beginning to get nervous. Well, you know what they say? Fake it till you make it.

So, you boldly looked up at him, and claimed it was your shirt now. Finders, keepers, and all that jazz. 

Leona was greatly amused, and damn him if confidence wasn’t a good look on you. 

However, Leona simply couldn’t back down from your challenge. You heard the growl rumbling deep in his chest and without a second thought took off running. You had no doubt that the King of Beasts was hot on your heels. 

Azul Ashengrotto:

The lights of the Mostro Lounge were dimmed, allowing the reflection of rippling water to become more prominent. It was very atmospheric, and allowed for everyones attention to be on the main performance of the night. 

It was rare for Azul to give a performance at the Lounge, so each occurrence was a privilege. In this case, it was the Lounge’s anniversary. The entire night had been a special one, with rare additions to the menu and discounts and promised prizes that kept the Lounge booked weeks in advance. 

The twins had kept the guests entertained for the majority of the evening, and now it was Azul’s turn. And you, lucky little angelfish, got a front row seat. 

No eyes were off of Azul as he played the piano. If the twins were to be believed, Azul was playing an ancient merman song, from the times when the Seafolk would lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom through their enchanting voices alone. Given the twins’ affinity to messing with people, you normally took their tales with a grain of salt. 

This time, however, you were inclined to believe them. There was some sort of alluring magic within the notes of Azul’s song, there had to be. It demanded attention and refused to relinquish it. You could practically smell the salt of sea wind and see the rise of ocean waves with each crescendo. You were spellbound. You imagined that, if Azul told you to throw yourself into bone-shattering waves, you’d reply with “Yes please.” 

And from the glazed eyes of the other guests, you knew you weren’t alone. 

You weren’t entirely sure what force pushed you to stand from your seat. Perhaps you truly were entrapped by Azul’s siren call. Perhaps there was an ugly part of you that bristled at the many eyes trained on the silver haired man. Whatever the reason, you moved through the mist that had settled under the lounge. Azul’s song was coming to an end. He noticed your approach, raising an eyebrow but not once stopping the movement of his fingers. It never ceased to amaze you how well coordinated he could be, despite being a literal fish out of water. Perhaps it was from years of simultaneously using ten limbs. 

The song reached its final crescendo as you came to stand beside Azul. The final wave, preparing to crash down on the battered shore. 

The wave came crashing down as you grabbed the hat off of Azul’s head, putting it on your own. You cut off Azul’s protest with a swift kiss, as gentle as the cold spray of the sea. As the guests of the lounge applauded, you stepped down and left Azul sitting there wide-eyed and blushing furiously. 

You made your escape to the underwater hallways of Octavinelle, passing by the snickering twins as you did. You weren’t entirely sure if Azul would chase after you or not to get his hat back, but it didn’t matter either way to you. Your brain hadn’t quite caught up to your bold actions. There was a part of you that was still blissfully lost at sea. 

Kalim Al-Asim:

It was late in the evening, with the half-faced moon looming over the Arabian night, and the party showed no sign of slowing down. 

Kalim had his misgivings, but he sure as hell knew how to throw a party. Even though it was undisputed that Kalim was the life of the party, with everything gravitating around him like brilliant sun that he was, he had the strange ability to make it feel as if the party was centered around you. 

Sometimes you felt guilty about stealing away Kalim’s attentions from everyone else, but then Kalim would give you that brilliant smile of his, reminding you that you were his guest of honor and it was only natural that he made sure you had the best night of your life. Well, who were you to argue with that? 

You spent a great deal of the night dancing with Kalim. Your lungs burned and legs ached, but those things seemed to disappear into the wind, scattered by Kalim’s breathless yet exuberant laughter. His joy was infectious, filling your veins with sunshine and warmth as you laughed too. 

Could a moment truly last forever? You wished that it would. This moment was perfect, as you spun around in Kalim’s arms, your feet feather-light and a feeling of weightlessness washing over you. It was all too easy to forget that there were other people around. Their presence faded into little more than background noise, leaving nothing but you, Kalim, and the lively music that sang in your bones, flowing easily from your body to Kalim’s and back again as you moved in time with one another. 

You hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic that night, but Godmother save you if you didn’t feel drunk. You were light-headed and wonderfully happy. You were in a whole new world, one just for you and Kalim. Perhaps this feeling wouldn’t carry over into tomorrow, perhaps you had this one night alone. If that was the case, you were sure as hell going to make it last a lifetime. 

You didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in the night you had managed to steal Kalim’s half-turban right off his head and had it hanging loosely around your neck. The jewels that decorated it clanked every time you moved, and it was a wonder you hadn’t noticed it before. 

Well, Kalim had yet to point it out, so he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Either way, if he wasn’t going to bring it up, then you weren’t about to. Thus, your unintentional thievery was completed.

The dance ended and you finally managed to drag yourself away from Kalim long enough to get yourself some much needed refreshment. 

Kalim truly hadn’t noticed that you had taken his turban until its absence was pointed out by Jamil. It didn’t take long for either of them to spot it hanging around your neck from where you stood across the crowd.

Kalim happily took it as an excuse to pull you into another dance. 

Jamil let out a long, suffering sigh. The two of you were hopeless. 

Vil Schoenheit:

Confession time. You might have, sort of stolen Vil’s crown. Um...oops? 

In your defense, Epel had dared you do it. He had deliberately chosen the dare, knowing no one in their right mind would attempt to steal from Pomefiore’s queen. Not unless they were Rook, or you apparently. 

Besides, how mad could Vil be? (Mad, very mad, you could practically taste the poison already, Epel was going to get you killed how could he do this to you he knew your impulse control was non-existent-)

Well, what done was done, and you proudly showed off your prize to your dumbfounded friends. In full honesty, they hadn’t expected you to go through with it.  Now that you had the crown, why not take full advantage of it. 

You took plenty of pictures of you wearing it. Epel gave on heck of a Vil impression while wearing it. All in all, you had a roaringly good time and nearly forgot that you had stolen the crown in the first place. Unbeknownst to you, a certain hunter found you with the crown in your possession and, with a cruel smile, slunk back into the shadows to relay his findings to his enraged queen. 

It didn't take long for Vil to arrive, amethyst eyes burning like gemstones that had fires trapped within them. You felt like a meek little mouse under Vil’s glare. One look towards Epel and you could practically see the “oh shit��� reflected in his eyes. 

Vil held out his hand, a silent demand for you to return his property and accept your punishment. 

Welp, your grave was already dug out. Why not go a little deeper? Or perhaps that was the panic trying to rationalize your truly idiotic potato move.

You ran for dear life, dragging poor Epel with you. If you were going down, he was going with you. 

You didn’t get far. Damn that hunter. 

You and your partner in crime were caught, and the crown returned to the head of its rightful queen. 

Vil smirked down at you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. 

There was something befitting about a crown on your head. After all, he expected the person who would stand beside him to be just as well-adorned as he was. Perhaps he should look into getting you a crown of your own. 

Idia Shroud:

Welp, Idia was lost to the realm of campaigns and RPG's. Again. Not that you were particularly surprised. Idia spent a lot of time either online or working on some high-tech invention, and would probably never see the light of day if you and Ortho didn’t drag him outside. 

You fully supported Idia’s interests and his hobbies, but you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely while you sat in his room and waited for him to finish and finally spend some time with you. 

You flopped down on his bed, pouting. Maybe you should get up and explore the Ignihyde dorm. You didn’t get to see enough of it, and as the most technologically advanced dorm in the college, it should be a sight to behold. Perhaps you could even met another one of the dorms reclusive members before they ran away screaming at the prospect of human interaction. 

Making up your mind, you got up and your hand brushed against one of Idia’s hoodies, which was lying haphazardly off the side of his bed. You thought about it for all of one second before putting it one, the hoodie practically swallowing your entire body. You giggled. With how much Idia slouched over, it was easy to forget just how much taller he was compared to you. 

Now properly dressed for your impromptu adventure, you walked out of Idia’s room and went exploring. 

Soon after, Idia finished his game, cheering in victory as he won. He pulled his headset off and stretched his back. That’s when he noticed that you were gone and he immediately spiraled into a panic. Where had you gone? You normally waited around for him to finish so that you could spend time together. 

Had you finally gotten sick and tired of him? Has he finally driven you away with his anti-social behavior? Had he just epically failed your route and received a bad ending???? NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Ortho found his brother in the middle of an otaku level meltdown and calmed him down, telling him that he had just seen you walking around the dorm. 

Ortho encouraged his brother to go looking for you himself to show you that he noticed your absence, and Idia in his still distraught state agreed without hesitation. 

Ortho “accidentally” forgot to mention what it was you were wearing. Idia was very underprepared. 

When Idia saw you wearing talking to another Ignihyde student while wearing his hoodie, his face instantly turned red. Why were you so cute, wearing his hoodie like that? Didn’t you know how dangerous for his health that was?

You didn’t know why Idia was supporting himself with one hand against the wall and another clutching his chest, but Ortho assured you it wasn’t a bad thing. 

Malleus Draconia:

You had gone to the Diasomnia dorm to visit Malleus. It was something you did regularly and should come as a surprise to no one, yet Sebek still insisted on giving you grief about showing up unannounced. 

Ignoring him, you asked Lilia where Malleus was, and the amused bat told you that Malleus was busy at the moment. Before you could become disheartened and leave, Lilia informed you with a knowing smile that Malleus wouldn’t be much longer now and you could simply wait for him in his room. 

Once again in good spirits, you thank the ancient Fae and did just that. 

Only, now that you were in Malleus’s room, you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. It was the first time you had ever been in Malleus room, and you found yourself simultaneously fascinated and awkward. Would it be okay for you to sit on his bed? Perhaps you should play it safe and just sit on the floor like a goblin. Would he get mad if you snooped through his things? Well, he might not, but Sebek sure as hell would. 

Eventually, boredom got the best of you. So, you went through Malleus’s closet. You were a terrible person, okay, it’s been acknowledged let's move on to the raiding. 

You pulled out one of Malleus’s cloaks, a black one (shocker). You wrapped it around yourself, and it was so large it might as well have been a blanket on you with the way it pooled at your feet. You always knew that Malleus was unfairly taller than you, but being wrapped in his cloak like this made you feel oh, so small. 

You weren’t going to acknowledge how the cloak smelled like Malleus, like cinder and the evening woods. Nope, nada. If you did, you would be red-faced for the rest of the evening and there was no way Malleus wouldn’t notice. 

You were just about to unwrap yourself from Malleus’s cloak when the door opened, Malleus entering and being unwillingly escorted by the ever insistent Sebek.

Malleus stared at you in his cloak with wide, green eyes. Meanwhile, Sebek got personally offended. 

How dare a human such as yourself dirty Lord Malleus’s attire with your stench?!?!?!?!?!?!

In the end, Sebek ended up chasing you around trying to get the cloak back and you ran with a speed you didn’t even know you possessed. 

Malleus was still stunned for several moments, but he eventually got enough presence of mind to order Sebek to leave you be. 

Still, after that incident, you couldn’t help but notice how, during your evening walk with the future King of Thorns, Malleus every excuse to wrap you up in the cloak he was wearing. 

Not that you would complain, as you happily pulled the cloak tighter around you. 

[dreaminginvelaris]

nessian analysis

im not sure if this qualifies as an analysis? It's basically me just explaining why I didn't like the nessian relationship, what it lacked, what sjm should have done.

I will be using the “anti-nessian” tag bc there are many softies here on Tumblr who get pissy whenever you have some things to say abt a beloved character or relationship that dont paint them as gods even though i dont hate them. I DO NOT hate nessian, I am not the biggest fan of them, im not entirely fond of them, I personally think we were robbed of a much deeper and flushed out relationship, but I do not hate nessian whatsoever. 

also please for the love of god don’t get butthurt and start talking about how feysand is the boring one, how feysand is so vanilla, in retaliation. stop. it makes you look childish. if you hate what i have to say abt your ship, move on. you don’t need to come on a nessian post and start talking about other ships. yes i realize i mention feysand, and rowaelin, but it was to compare how sjm usually writes her main couples.  

with that being said, let's move forward. 

sjm in the past has done an amazing job when writing romantic relationships. She's so wonderful at establishing a friendship, at establishing an emotional connection, before any romance takes place. like with rowaelin, we got to see rowan and aelin forge a friendship, from hating one another to respecting each other. before it was romantic love, it was friendly love first, it was love and respect for their friendship that made aelin threaten that bitch who i forgot the name of but who wouldn't stop touching rowan and aelin bathed her in fire until she stopped. it was the love and respect for their friendship that made rowan fight against his cadre to go save aelin, it was that love that made aelin go to maeve, threaten her ppl so Rowan could be free. 

all of this built up to the amazing relationship that is Rowaelin. it took establishing an emotional connection between the two to make what is their relationship now. the romantic/sexual part of their relationship is amazing as well, but it wouldn't have been amazing were it not for the trust their relationship was built on first. 

it's the same thing with feysand, their relationship built on trust first, on friendship, on emotional talks, on sharing their thoughts and feelings, on sharing hard truths with one another. on feyre trusting rhys with how she felt abt the whole tamlin situation, it built on rhys sharing his past, on sharing some of those horrific moments of UTM, it built on them fighting with one another, it's what made chapter 55 so amazing because it built up. it wasn't just sex right off the bat, it was forging a connection much more powerful than sex. 

which brings me to my main point, that nessian definitely lacks all of this. before it even starts, i know there are ppl who might say “but nessian was building during acomaf/acowar?”  yes, it was, we knew that there was something between them. but can you really call it an emotional build up btwn them? i mean we saw it through the eyes of feyre, so we didn't really see much of substance. we saw them exchange glances, nesta insult cass, cass tease nesta, even that one bonus chapter, but that wasn't enough buildup. because even in that bonus chapter we mainly just got to see cass corner nesta to a wall and learn how he was so turned on by her. nothing of depth and substance. 

you would expect sjm to bring this to their book. but it didn't happen. perhaps she as well thought that was enough of a build up to them, i wouldn't put it past her, her writing skills definitely are questionable in this book.

but where were the talks? where was nesta confiding to cassain abt her mother? abt her life being groomed for marriage? abt the years during the poverty, abt how she felt disgusted by herself for what she had done to feyre. for what she had not done for their family? for what she felt with her fathers death, how she felt abt elain, how she was coping?

where were the talks in which cassian confided in nesta? in where he talks abt his years in the illyrian camps, in what happened in those moments when he murdered a whole illyrian village, in which he learned he would never be able to bury his mother. the talks where he tells her how it felt to be separated from his brothers, how he felt when rhys was trapped, how it felt when feyre was taken, how it felt when he thought him and nesta were to die, at hybern and at the war. 

where was the teasing? the laughing? the pinning each other down during training, the talks during training. where was the friendship being built? just because cass tells nesta he was always her friend doesn't mean it’s not important to see it.

instead all we got was training and fucking and fucking and training. instead we got nesta jacking off cassian 200 pages in? i mean thats so out of character of nesta. this fiery woman who spent three books pushing cassian away, who made it known she ‘despised’ cassian, who made it clear she would not touch or even try to interact with cassian during her stay at the house of wind, but all of a sudden she just loses that and jacks him off? i mean the fact that nesta kept pushing cassian away was such a great opportunity for sjm to take and make it slow burn. teasing touches, never going too far but enough it made the other shiver. i mean that when the pinning each other down in training would have come in handy. but instead sjm just decided to change nestas character just like she changed cassians as well. 

(note: i am not slut shaming nesta, before any of y'all try to twist it that way, i am merely stating how in my perspective that was not something nesta would have done with cassian.

not to forget how cassian would literally leave nesta after their sexual encounters! please tell me i’m not the only one who notices that the cassian from acomaf/acowar/acofas would not have done that. this man has practically been in love with nesta since day one and he just straight up says “thanks for the ride” and leaves? uhhhh what? the cassian i knew and loved would not have done that. i mean him staying after those encounters would have been the perfect opportunity for them to have deep talks, for them to get to know one another. i mean they both claim to know each other, but do they really? 

the mating revelation was soo underwhelming too. i wanted passion, i mean thats what i was promised no? from both sjm and the nessian stans. so where was that passion during the mating revelation? i mean sjm had aelin realize rowan was her mate after rowan was shot, and she felt the fear of losing him. had rhys know fully when feyre was dying and he was trying to get to her. had ferye realize when they professed their love for each other, and she realized she had healed with him. even goddamn lucien and elain knew in such an intense way as well. and nessian? on a sidewalk. with cassian demanding nesta say it, and nesta robotically denying it. 

all im saying is that we were robbed. i like sex between two characters as much as the next person but sex doesn't matter unless there is a deep emotional connection between the two, its what makes chemistry between two characters amazing. 

also lets mention how cassian didn't even say i love you to nesta. PLSSS WHAT WAS THAT

the only part in the whole 700+ page book that actually felt deeper and much more stronger between the two of them was when nesta broke down and admitted she hated herself and cassian consoled her. but that was what? 3 pages and then they proceeded to continue to fuck during their “healing hike” nah that aint it

all im saying is that nessian was much more fun and sexy when it was through feyre’s perspective. 

[ohheyitsokay]

dreamscapes

this is a little gift-fic for @scribbledghost! because you know as well as I do that she deserves all the love in the universe. this takes place in her “Multitudes AU” (or does it..?) and I directly pulled some lines from her stories to make parallels, so all rights belong to her. If you haven’t read it recently, I highly recommend a reread - not because it’s necessary but because it’s that good.

paring: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x reader 

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: brief mention of ‘canon’ typical trauma, literally so much fluff 

summary: post universe-collision, you and Jack grow closer and closer every day, and every night 

>>

A few weeks had passed since your literal reality had collided with Jack’s- and it still feels surreal. He wouldn’t take no for an answer in all the best ways: you lived in his home, worked in his office, ate everything he put before you. It was the most safe and loved you felt in years, maybe ever.

The looming threat of losing it all, the memories of it actually happening, and echoes of loneliness still haunted you sometimes, but he fought them. Your sweet, try-hard Statesman cowboy would fight for you, making sure you eat like a mother hen, and shooing away prying questioners like it was his job. And he wrapped his strong arms around you, resting his chin on your head and glaring, daring the darkness to try taking away his love again.

It’s not happening – he spent too many nights sleepless, agonizing over the death of your world to let anything happen to you. And he lost so much once, he knows he wont make the same mistake twice.

Towards the beginning, he had been careful, trying to be as considerate as possible, but you’d been in agreement about one thing: you would share his bed. After gathering the courage to sleep with your monitors side by side, this was an obvious choice, but seeing his face when you woke didn’t compare to the elation of reaching forward and touching it. Of feeling his skin against yours, the relaxed muscles of his half-asleep body, gathering you as close to him as he could.

It was perfect.

Except, there was one thing being tucked against him couldn’t fix, that all the fighting for your health couldn’t cut away.

Nightmares.

Waking up to the love of his life tended or thrashing in his arms was a hurdle he never even thought of when he yearned for your presence in his life. Jack did everything he could, whispering into your hair, running soothing hands over your skin, even signing his favorite country lullabies when you woke and needed his voice to cling to. It made him wish for the times when you’d find each other in your dreams, when he could look you in your eyes and mouth to you that he would do anything to make sure it was okay. 

It made him wish, as as he had before, that the universe had given him you under different circumstances. 

And in a way, he got his wish.

-

It was hazy, he almost couldn’t see – musty and damp and dark, like he was a basement.

In the background of his mind there was a pulsing ache of fear, desperation, claustrophobia, and betrayal. It was gnawing at him, steady as a drum, pounding and painful.

Jack tried go move, his limbs heavy and stiff and different, than he remembered them. Harrier, darker, less … human. You were tucked into his side, tears drying on your face as your hands wander across the expanse of his chest.

The rising panic in his chest subsided.

Everything was different except one thing. You loved him, and he loved you.

Sure that everything could be okay, he shook his head to clear it, confused at the weight and size of it, before he woke, for real.

-

Jack felt strange, lighter and smaller, and he took slow breaths through his mouth. Against his side, you were still asleep, mercifully peaceful, and your hand twitched on his chest, running through the folds of his shirt like it was part of him.

When you woke, you’re eyes were puffy, but void of the familiar dark circles you’d grown accustomed to. Footsteps lighter than he could remember them being in awhile, Jack made you pancakes that morning, thinking nothing of the dream he had. 

You were his love, brought to him by the universe and some science, and his sheer power of will, and he wasn’t going to dwell on anything other then the fact that you were here. He was going to take it day by day.

It was a byproduct of your trauma, your need to stay close to him, and he liked having you a step away, or better yet, under his arm. Well rested, you slipped your hand into he crook of his elbow and talked more boldly around his coworkers. When you mimicked his accent he nearly cried, thankful beyond words he could see the teasing glint in your eyes, clear of the usual sheen of anxiety.

It was more than enough, your energy, to occupy his heart and mind the whole day through.

-

Your body had been sore when you went to bed, just a little from building your strength and keeping up with your long-limbed lover.

But this was something different, something new. Your body ached, pulsing and throbbing and through the haze of confusion you realized you needed… Jack. Where was he? He should know. He should be able to feel how much you needed him to soothe your pain.

Distress rose in your throat until you could hear yourself, pleading for him, whining in a way you didn’t recognize. You didn’t know who you were talking to, but you were desperate for his touch, his comfort, anything. 

And all of a sudden there he was, like he had heard you, your Jack but… different. Intense, shockingly so, confident and possessive waves rolling off of him, and you would have froze if seeing him didn’t make you need him even more.

When he stooped closer to you, though, the fear melted away, and he was gentle, so caring and worried and tender you could hardly understand it.

He was rougher and softer than the Jack you’d fallen asleep next to, but when he rubbed his nose along your neck, there wasn’t a single worry in your mind. Comfort washed over you, flooded your mind and body, his adoration clear and you could smell him. It was your Jack, your love, and he was taking care of you.

-

At the Statesman headquarters the next day, Ginger caught your arm, and Jack bristled next to you.

The woman let go quickly but her smile was kind as she told you, “You’ve been looking better, recently.”

She wanted to ask What changed? but she hardly could. You were fine the last time you let them test you, and she was well aware she was on thin ice. Besides, other than looking more rested, more self assured, it’s not like there was any evidence that the change in realities was having a lasting impact on you.

You smiled graciously and thanked her, before your love moved you along.

In truth, you felt better, too, and you didn’t want to question it.

-

It was another nightmare.

You surveyed the surrounding wasteland with resignation, less afraid that you had been in one of these in quite a long time. Your legs felt stronger than they had in months, like you’d been hiking. Jack’s whip was in your hand and you stared at it, wondering at the pride and confidence that filled your chest.

The realization hit you – you knew how to use it, enjoyed it even. Baffled at your satisfaction, you went back to examining the woods around you, searching for clues to the place your mind had created for you.

There were people around you, that you vaguely recognized from the Statesman, battered and looking worse for wear. They were listening to your Jack, as he instructed them on something.

Moving closer you saw his facial hair was grown out, rugged and handsome, and there were spatters of something dark on the edges of his clothes. The words coming from his mouth were strange, but you didn’t mind them, determination settling in your gut like you knew what he was saying.

Instinctively, your hand slipped into a pocket of your bag, and you pulled out a little stuffed cat. Perplexed but comforted, you put it away, looking up to see your love coming towards you. He was solid at your side, tired eyes filled with the fire of survival.

“You know I ain’t goin’ anywhere you ain’t, baby,” he said it like a promise he’d spoken many times before.

“I know, cowboy,” you heard yourself say.

-

It took you two steps to Jack’s, when he was walking quickly. The pace made your journey from Gingers office short and you almost laughed at the look on your partner’s face.

You loved him, but sometimes you felt like he was more anxious than you were, about your joining his world’s population.

Her and Soda had just shown you… something crazy, to be sure. All the universes where they’d found you and Jack connected, and it was beautiful, overwhelming.

Once the high had worn off, however, there were lingering thoughts, unspoken fears – what did that mean? What would happen in the universe decided it need more drastic methods to correct the error you created?

The little videos danced in your mind, stirring up foggy memories of things that didn’t quite feel like your own. It left you uneasy, uncertain, but you promised him that they were proof. If you could be certain about one thing, surely it was him?

Settling in his arms that night, you notice he held you tighter, like he was cherishing it as much as he had the very first time he held you.

-

The sun was well into the sky by the time Jack pried his eyes open, and that was normal. He wasn’t sure why, but if definitely felt routine.

This dream was a blurry as he prepared for the day, surprisingly domestic until it stilled again, and his elbows were resting on a long wooden counter.

There was laughter and chatter and country music and flirting and it seemed comfortable, like he belonged here. Almost like this was his home, and he’d been here awhile.

But his heart clenched when he looked around and couldn’t see you. Fear clawed at his throat and he almost thought it would be okay if you were anywhere – with another man or annoyed in the corner or anything, as long as you were here.

But then he felt your hand on his back, and he whipped around, almost knocking over a weeks worth of wages in glass. It didn’t matter, you were there, and he was so glad to see you he didn’t even tan your hide for coming behind the bar.

No, instead he kissed you until he heard hoots and hollers from his patrons, relishing the way you kissed him back, hands holding him like he was your anchor. 

Pulling away, he realized a crudely dressed ex-customer was walking out the door, no doubt suddenly aware of the futility of flirting with him, and he tugged you into his side.

When you looked at him unquestioningly, he knew, to the sole of his boots, you weren't going anywhere.

The burning of the ring in his pocket lessened, and he kissed you again.

-

Jack woke, more at ease than he’d been for a long time. Tilting his head he watched your eyes move behind your eyelids, lashes fluttering before you sighed and tucked your nose into his neck and settled.

It was a perfect moment, or it would have been, if Ginger’s show yesterday wasn’t still sticking in his kind, buzzing around like a summer fly, too small and quick to grasp. His previous worries of you being taken from him, were eased by his dreams but…

His dreams. Finally, he could place a finger on what was so strange about those images saying before his eyes yesterday. It was almost as if he’d had that feeling, of connection to you, before. Almost if he’d been having them for months.

Jack mulled it over for throughout the morning, wondering if having such an odd conversation was worth spoiling the peaceful Saturday.

You looked so cozy, wrapped in one of his sweatshirts, rocking gently on his patio, the sunshine brushing your outstretched toes.

But he couldn’t resist. It felt like a gift from the universe, those little dreams, and he wanted to acknowledge it.

“I’ve been having dreams about you lately,” he said, settling next to you with a strange sense of dejavu.

“Yeah?” you asked, cuddling into him like it had never been different. “What kinda dreams?”

“Well…” he started, “it’s like I’m me… but I’m not. Like those different universes Ginger and Soda showed us – I’m Jack from somewhere else, doing something else. And then you’re there, darlin, and just when I know everything’s going to be okay – ”

“You wake up,” you finished, giddy laughter bubbling out of you. “I’ve been havin the same dreams, I thought… I thought it was just me.”

“Again,” Jack joined you laughter, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I think we can reasonably come to the same conclusion we did last time, cowboy,” you said, relaxing into the warmth of his chest again.

“Maybe this was all meant to be, somehow.”

Jack leaned down to kiss your temple, his mouth almost smiling too wide to do it properly.

“Maybe like we were meant to be.”

-

Jack woke alone in his bed, longing in his heart.

As he got up and got ready for work, his movements were methodical, boring, simple. It was lonely, a feeling he hadn’t quite felt in awhile, and he hated it, wondering why it felt so wrong.

When he looked through his kitchen window, he knew.

Across his yard and part of another, there you were, sleepy as you picked up the newspaper off your porch. You glanced at his house and he almost ducked like a teenager caught peeping, but he held his ground, ready to wave if your eyes met his.

When they didn’t, a need rose in his stomach, insistent. There was no way he could start his day without seeing you – and when he checked the clock, it confirmed the theory blooming in his mind.

He had planned for this.

Grinning, he threw on his boots and slipped out the door, grabbing an extra handful of eggs to share with you.

In the back of his mind, Jack thought it was nice, to get to fall in love with you in a normal way.

-

You woke alone in your bed, longing in your heart.

Rolling out of it, you began to get ready, a nagging feeling on your mind. You shouldn’t feel lonely, it said, and you almost believed it.

Still, you werent sure what to do about it, you had to get ready for the day. You had ample time, for some reason, but making a real breakfast, one with eggs, seemed like it would only make you with you had someone to eat them with. So you wandered around your house, confused at why your feet wanted to carry you outside.

When you did, to get the newspaper, you knew. Looking over at the house next to yours, you scolded yourself for not remembering – Jack. Your love, your cowboy, wait. No, your crush.

The pig milling around his garden looked at you, and you could’ve sworn she winked.

Back inside, you watched through the window as he sauntered his way over o your home, and you grinned. He was wearing his boots and jeans and his shirt was mis-buttoned, and he was bringing over some of his eggs.

In the back of your mind, you were thankful for the chance to fall in love, the normal way.

-

Bonus:

Jack sighed, turning his pencil to tap the eraser on the paper of the notebook.

He wasn’t sure how he got here, really it didn’t make sense, but here he was, nonetheless. Writing stories about a love of his life he hadn’t met yet.

It didn’t bother him really, as the lines filled the papers, but he’d been catching himself daydreaming a lot recently. He liked the idea of someone out in the universe, sweet and kind and lovely, who adored him just as thoroughly.

And little did he know, that he was right.

<<

taglist?: 

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

whiskey taglist?:

@0celestialbitch0

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Vmin Vlive Asks

From anon: saw on twitter people asking for vmin vilive again. If vmin were just friends it wouldn't be a problem streaming together, or if they hated each other as some say they would be professional enough to stream together without any problems. But since they don't, it's because it's difficult, even as a professional, because vmin is so cute with each other. just a thought.

From anon 2: It saddens me that we still haven't got a Vmin live/selfie. It really makes me wonder. Surely they can go an hour without flirting/touching/exposing themselves, right lol? Same with a selfie. V did a live with JK and JM did one with JK, last year. V uploaded a selfie of him and JK on NYE, but when it comes to Vmin we barely get crumbs. Not saying I expect it, but it raises the question of what the big deal is kinda. Worst part is antis see it as confirmation that Vmin aren't close. Makes me sad.

From anon 3: What are your thoughts on why we haven't seen Vmin selfies or vlives in a while? Same with Jikook. Nothing from them either. Do you think Jimin just isn't wanting to for some reason? Even TK uploaded a selfie on NYE and then we got Tae in a video, in a rush to get their selfie uploaded. Kinda makes me sad. Not cause T/JK uploaded a selfie, but I just wish Vmin would throw us a bone. Since we haven't seen any selfies/lives with J/k**k either, seems maybe its on Jimin's end why we aren't. Maybe?

Perhaps this is a moment where being a namjinist is quite a handy thing since we’re rather used to a lack of selcas, even if there are moments that we know (and even saw) them take some together and yet we never got to see the selca, meaning they took them merely for themselves as memory. Which kind of makes it actually much cuter, but that’s besides the point. Same goes for vlives, before the RJRJ vlive Summer 2020, we had to wait a very long time for a namjin vlive. Perhaps I’m just desensitized to this wish of a joined vlive, not that I wouldn’t want one, I very much do, but I’m used to just…not getting one, I suppose?

Admin 2 has actually written a post early on into our time on tumblr about their theories regarding the potential of a vmin vlive and how chances are we will likely not get one, at least not any time soon. Looking at anon 2’s question if they would really not be able to go an hour without flirting or touching or doing something else that could “expose” them—I’d like for us to remember their “Radio” for Japanese ARMY where they basically spent the entire time talking softly/sweetly with each other, Jimin calling the way Tae wrote words on a whiteboard “cute” (the video was deleted but this is at least the translation of this), how he wasn’t able to open a pen so he softly asked Tae do it for him, and how Jimin did this funny charade move which Tae claimed was “Jimin waking up” resulting in Jimin playfully/cutely “hitting” Tae’s chest (1:28 onward). And that’s edited content, yet it’s so sweet and full of little tender vmin moments.

Now imagine that but without editing and happening live.

Of course, Jimin and Tae are absolute professionals at their job, I don’t have any kind of doubt about it, but perhaps it’s just something they’ve decided they don’t want to do (despite Jimin’s initial “promise” of talking Tae into doing it with him, and Tae saying “okay” on the phone when asked about it). Not due to a lack of possibilities or time, not due to a lack of self-control both verbal and physical wise, but due to some completely different reason only they know. We know what literal hellscape the comments during vlives are, so imagine what kind of nightmare the comments during a vmin vlive would be…it makes me sad and furious just thinking about it. Considering the comments are already full of hate and shipping related comments and questions when they do solo vlives. Or how hateful people were when Jimin, Seokjin and Yoongi did their Just Dance vlive together in 2020, how Seokjin was basically accused of “getting in the way” of y*onm*n and far, far worse things, even though all three of them were having so much fun together.

We know how much certain people despise vmin and any (cute) interactions between Jimin and Tae that show that all their wishes or claims that “they hate each other” and “have drifted apart” are not true. Also, remember how Tae posted their ITS bed selca on weverse and was flooded with hate for it? I admit, that was in parts due to “bad timing” (or rather people being unable to stop demanding things from Bangtan without immediately turning hateful but that’s a whole different story) but in larger parts due to it going against “popular agendas”.

“Worst part is antis see it as confirmation that Vmin aren't close. Makes me sad.” If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years as ARMY, as well as vminnie and namjinist, it’s that the opinion of antis is worth less than dirt. Even dirt is more useful, tbh. They can think whatever they like, but the good thing is, their opinion and whatever they think is a “confirmation” of their agenda, it doesn’t affect the truth and the reality of Jimin’s and Tae’s bond in any kind of way. So, please, don’t let their noisiness make you sad. Literal antis are not worth our times. Not in relation to vmin and not in relation to BTS in general.

“Not cause T/JK uploaded a selfie, but I just wish Vmin would throw us a bone.” While I know what you mean, I’d like to remind you, and everyone else, that we’ve gotten a whole mountain of bones in recent weeks between RUN and other content like Winter Package. We might not have gotten any selcas or vlive, but we got so many other things, do they not count? Besides, we’ve made it five years without vmin vlive, I think we’ll be okay, no?

So, it’s okay to hope we might get a vlive from Tae and Jimin together one day, as well as a selca, if they’ve decided against it behind the scenes, we should respect and accept that. In the end, if they’ll one day do decide to do a vlive or post a selca out of the blue, imagine how happy we’d be.

Instead let us look forward with anticipation and excitement for tomorrow’s Grammy performance and hopefully their first win, even though I’ll forever be salty about the organizers putting their category in the pre-show instead of making it part of the main gala despite knowing that their category is basically the most anticipated one this year. As well as most of the categories with POC nominees being outside of the main gala. Very telling.

Then again, like that one Forbes article once said:

[forhereyesonlyyy]

gfriend as your staff team! // gfriend. // scenario.

author's note: i should make a tradition where i do something for the whole group first before going into the individual stuff 🤔 idk how these things work so i kinda just winged it, please bear with me 😭 i hope you guys still enjoy it! 🥰

Sowon:

• manager kim sojung! 😳

• she's actually more of a bodyguard than the actual bodyguard.

• seemed very uptight and strict at first glance but she actually lets you do whatever you want as long as you don't get yourself hurt.

• blew up among your fans and trended in the media because she's so pretty.

• never hesitates to throw dirty looks towards people that push you around in public spaces.

• never afraid to talk back to those who hate on you for no reason. it doesn't matter if she was showing unpleasant behavior to everyone else, sojung will protect you no matter what.

• you refer to her as "manager kim" but as the two of you got closer, sojung was comfortable enough to ask you to call her by her first name 💓

• since the two of you hang out so much, there were multiple dating rumors that popped up in the media. surprisingly enough, mostly everybody was rooting for the two of you and they were disappointed when you denied the claims.

• sojung tries very hard to keep up with your, and the rest of the team's, energy and often finds herself in situations where she gets dragged in your ridiculous antics. one of them being unnecessarily goofy during live streams.

• she genuinely wants you to make it big in the industry, nothing would make her happier.

Yerin:

• jung yerin, your proud bodyguard and self-proclaimed 'arm candy'.

• so, before everything, yerin was your best friend since high school and she promised that she would go wherever you go. at first, you didn't think much of it because you were young and it was probably going to change once yerin finds something she wants to do, but nope! up until this day, she's still right there beside you 🥺

• may or may not have accidentally confessed that she had a huge crush on you for the longest time during the night you got your first award where your team celebrated by drinking.

• she always keeps you close to her at all times. sometimes out of habit, sometimes because it was literally her job.

• she's the most popular with your fans since she treats them so well, but of course she isn't always nice. yerin may not look like it, but she's perceptive so she's the first one who knows that some certain kind of 'fans' are being weird and gets super protective of you. going as far as to threaten those to act 'strange' around you.

• yerin and sojung are polar opposites, so it didn't surprise you when yerin showed signs of hostility towards your manager when they first met. but because of you, they got along well and now they drink soju every now and then, gossiping about you.

• other than sojung, your close relationship with yerin had people thinking that there was something between the two of you. but you were quick to deny that, saying that the two of you are only close friends.

• yerin doesn't mind that you don't reciprocate her feelings, she was more than satisfied by being beside you as you were living your dream of being a performer.

• she really is your biggest fan.

Eunha:

• your hair and makeup artist, eunha!

• a flirt through and through. when you first met her, she did not hesitate to throw a suggestive wink your way. did she know that she was going to be working with you? probably, but of course that didn't stop her.

• some would probably call it unprofessional to hit on your coworker, but you didn't mind it. in fact, the compliments she tells you out of the blue are some real confidence boosters, especially when you're about to perform in a big event.

• there's a new pickup line everyday! eunha smiles the brightest when you laugh at her little antics.

• even when you're in a bad mood, she always manages to crack a small smile in your face.

• "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

• "i'm from hell."

• "...well that explains why you're so hot."

• yerin was wary of her at first, but you assured her that eunha did not have feelings for you and that eunha is like that with everyone. eventually, yerin warmed up to her and now they flirt with you together.

• kissed you once when she was doing your makeup because she couldn't help it. it didn't mean anything, but eunha was one blushing mess that time.

• one day, you forgot something from the change room a few minutes before your performance at a show and you heard eunha singing her heart out to one of your songs. you made sure to give it your all at your performance that day to make your second biggest fan proud!

Yuju:

• your beloved vocal coach, choi yuju!

• she's like your second best friend (don't tell yerin). every lesson with her is like a casual hang-out with a classmate, sometimes it doesn't even feel like she's an actual professional because she's just that chill.

• can get pretty serious but at the end of the day, yuju just wants you to enjoy singing and not take it too seriously.

• along with yerin and eunha, yuju is also a big fan of your music! she often goes to instagram and promotes your songs to her followers and is always eager to gush about you with other fans.

• sometimes she helps you write lyrics for your songs and that's when she really gets serious.

• the last thirty minutes of your lessons turn into a messy karaoke battle that mostly end with you nearly dying of laughter because of yuju.

• she makes sure to guide you well while you're in the studio and she always compliments your singing to keep you in a happy mood!

• your instagram story is really just filled with you and yuju doing whatever during ungodly hours. sojung scolds both of you a lot, but knows that she can't fight it since the two of you will probably force her to join your late night adventures anyway.

• remember those karaoke battles? yeah, half of those aren't always intense and chaotic. as soon as a slow song plays, yuju starts singing with her whole heart and you have to admit that you've never been so attracted to someone's voice until you heard hers. maybe there was something more to that, but you were too afraid to look deep into it.

• pretty much everyone notices the obvious sparks between the two of you except, well, you and her.

• you never told yuju, or anyone, but one of your mellow and heart-fluttering songs was about her.

SinB:

• your wonderful dance teacher and choreographer, hwang sinb!

• just like sojung, sinb intimidated you a lot when you first met but then all of your first impression of her vanished when you found out how kind and genuine sinb really was.

• well, except when she's teaching you a new choreography. she's a real demon.

• sinb bullied you a little into the start of your career just to see if you have any fire inside of you but unfortunately for her, you kept your cool and remained level-headed despite the rigorous routines she put you through. when she saw that you were genuinely passionate about doing well, she grew fond of you.

• details are everything to sinb, so it warms her heart whenever you listen to every word she says and does every little thing she does.

• when she isn't being one hell of a dance teacher, she's a huge dork who always has lots of energy to spare.

• the main reason why your instagram posts are so pretty is because sinb is the one who takes the photos for you. you admit that your heart does jump when she tells you how pretty you are when you're posing for her.

• sinb also listens well to your comments about her choreography, and a part of her feels proud whenever you include subtle changes in your dance.

• when you struggle with a certain move, sinb makes sure to guide you through it step by step and that included close contact. something you dreaded but also looked forward to every time you step inside the practice room.

• there always seemed to be tension between the two of you when you're close, but neither of you acted on it.

• sometimes sinb would joke about it though, much to your dismay.

• "oooh you want to kiss me so bad."

• sometimes you clap back and render her speechless for the remaining of the day.

• "what if i do?"

• "...w-well. i mean, go ahead. not that i want you to! i just mean that... that i wouldn't mind— oh, screw you, (y/n)!"

Umji:

• your adorable and incredibly wise fashion stylist, kim yewon!

• she was shy around you at first, and vice versa. now, you aren't usually one to be so easily flustered but yewon was just too cute to you.

• even when you've spent quite some time around her, yewon still gets shy whenever she gets close to you to get your measurements and such. you tease her about it sometimes and she playfully hits you, cutely telling you to knock it off before she gets to work.

• yewon always makes sure to get your input. the most you've probably heard her talk is when you're trying out whatever she made for the first time, asking if it was too bombastic or too safe, or if it felt nice or not.

• she wants you to be as comfortable as you can be on stage, and for that you are thankful.

• yewon can be a bit too harsh on herself. you often hear her muttering criticisms while she's taking notes. you always tell her that the outfit was fine and that it felt nice wearing it, but apparently those are not always the issue for her.

• she was afraid of you having a wardrobe malfunction on stage so she takes her time with her designs.

• you know it was part of her job, but your stomach spin a lot when she's adjusting some things in the outfit while you were wearing it because yewon was just so cute and her face when she's concentrated was quite... attractive.

• sinb likes to intensify the tension between the two of you. she 'accidentally' bumps into yewon and have her lean on to you for support and then she apologizes with the most unconvincing tone ever while she walks away with a grin. and you're left with your flustered stylist who suddenly cannot function properly due to the close contact.

• you never miss the way yewon stares at you for too long most of the time. it didn't matter if she was studying your features and proportions or if she was just simply checking you out, no matter what, you would always catch her eyes on you.

• when she realizes that she has been caught, yewon becomes a complete mess. she either drops everything and literally runs out of the room or make up a dumb excuse to save herself. either way, it was adorable and your heart warms up every time yewon shyly smiles at you.

• "i might melt into a puddle if you keep staring at me like that, yewonnie."

• "i wasn't s-staring you..."

• "oh? were you looking at our dear manager then? i didn't know you were into older girls!"

• "no! i'm definitely into you!"

• "...?"

• "i will see myself out, thank you."

[notmrskennedy]

The List

(Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral?Reader)

A/N - In order to curb the crushing weight of being bested by a vacuum cleaner at work and stressing about my calc test, I’m posting this. I hope you all like it as much as the last one. Y’all are just the fuckin sweetest. 

Also, this was inspired by @definitelynotkatesblog and her awesome work Something to Cry About. It’s the cutest freakin thing. 

Summary - A little list on what makes Reader fall asleep at night...

Word Count - 2.2k

Warnings - swearing, but what’s new?

----

1. A Podcast Episode on Epicurus and the Hellenistic Age

“Spencer, christ,” you laugh, fluffing your curls. “I can assure you that I am not touchy and sharing a bed won’t kill us.”

Spencer fidgets in his spot in the doorway, crossing his arms to keep from shaking too much. Is it wrong to be jealous of your casualness surrounding this? Is it wrong to wish away that massive crush he’s got? Just at least for one night—pretty please with a cherry on top.

You wait with a half raised eyebrow at the side of the bed he clearly doesn’t sleep on. Your hand poised above the comforter like it’ll make his decision any quicker. Like you can’t see the turmoil that has to be written across his face.

Because what does this mean? What does it mean to sleep in the same bed with your best friend for the first time? What if you end up snuggled up in the morning? Is that bad? Is that good? Is he totally secretly wishing that’ll happen and spur you in falling in love with him just as much as he’s fallen for you?

He glances one more time between your calm eyes, the made bed, the clock, the giant college t-shirt you’re wearing, finally back to your face. He nods. Adds in a dash of blushing. A teaspoon of agreeing words.

You shake your head, smile at him like he’s an idiot—though he supposes he is with you—and wrench the covers back. Like you belong. He wants you to belong.

There’s still time to back out and sleep on the couch. Does he really want to?

He wills his feet forward. Tries to tell himself that this is just like every night. Sets his watch on the nightstand, plugs his phone in, slips into the covers.

“Hey, bud?”

He hums as he turns his head to look over at you. He’s still sat up in bed, hand poised over his stack of books. Are you going to tell him to turn out the light?

You smile, shifting your weight ever so slightly. You’re the restless sort and he wonders how you work the boring middle management job that you do. Pulling your lips back into a nervous smile, you gently say, “I can’t fall asleep to the quiet, do you mind if—“

“Do you want me to read to you?”

He hopes the excitement goes unnoticed. It seems to as you chuckle. “I wish it would work. You’re too interesting, Spencer Reid. Podcasts on Hellenistic philosophy however—do you mind if I listen? It won’t be too loud.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all.” Never for you.

“Thanks, Spence,” you chirp through a stifled yawn. And as you turn the podcast on and flip over to press tightly onto the pillow, you say, “and don’t worry. I promise I keep to my side of the bed.”

And unlike the liar he wishes you are, he wakes up to find that you are very true to your word.

2. Discovery Chanel, Documentary on Revolving Door Manufacturing

He’s never seen you cry before. You make it a point to keep saying between sobs, “I hate crying in front of other people. I’m so sorry.”

He can’t fathom why it’s you that’s sorry, not after you asked him to pick you up from your mother’s. The same mother who’s apparently found it within her purview to explain just how much she hates you over a nice dinner. He’s buzzing with anger on your behalf—anger that clearly isn’t shared, though he knows it’ll come later.

It takes roughly 20 minutes to get you over the hill, trading tears for tissues. Snot for begrudging smiles at his bad jokes. He’s promised himself that he will listen—for once in his goddamn life—to your whole story without interrupting. You seem to appreciate the sentiment, punctuating the whole experience with asking for one of those hugs that just never ends.

You try to explain it—“like cats, Spencer, you know?”—like he doesn’t already empathise completely.

And weirdly enough, it gets to a point where you two switch positions without breaking the crushing amount of contact you have. It gets to a point where you insist on watching the most boring documentary he’s ever seen on revolving door manufacturing. It gets to a point where you pass out after 15 minutes and turn over into his chest.

He doesn’t dare move. Not until he’s effectively sure you won’t be waking up anytime soon. Spencer falls asleep with your soft breath fanning across his chest and his hands tangled in your hair.

5. A Librivox Recording of ‘The Five Orange Pips’

Now this is ridiculous. And he says as much as you roll your eyes. You’re both sweaty and exhausted and he’s sure he’s never met someone who looked this awake after a romp at one AM. Your eyes are twinkling the same way someone does after they’ve run a mile and feel like they need to run another. You’ve got energy and he can’t fathom it.

“Spencer,” you whine, falling back into the bedsheets. It’s really the first official time you’ve spent at his house as more than a friend—much more. He’s gotten accustomed, understanding even, to the little podcasts you listen to to fall asleep. There’s no sense in understanding your sleeping habits, not yet at least, but he understands the boring, droning voices you let lull you to sleep.

But this! Sherlock Holmes?

“Y/n, I literally have the story on my bookshelf. I could read it to you if you’re so choosy!” he mirrors your position with a huff, already reaching out to drag you over into his side. The feel of your skin is addictive. The safest kind of high he can get. The only one he really wants.

You pout, sticking out your lip. It’s adorable and breaks the tweak of frustration resting hard in his features. “Love-bug, with you talking to me, I’d never fall asleep. It just doesn’t work like that and I don’t make the rules.”

“Fine,” he mutters, effectively pulling you close enough you can share the one pillow. You giggle, kiss his nose, and reach behind you for your phone. It takes five seconds for the Librivox recording to start and he realises that as he listens to the intro, he’s already dropping off. It’s understandable—he guesses—but he hopes that one day you’ll pick a story he hasn’t read already.

9. News in Slow Spanish

Listening to you get ready for bed will never be tiring, Spencer thinks. Not when he’s playing a game with himself. He’s so terrible at guessing what you’ll choose to listen to. There’s never any rhyme or reason. Never a solid thought process that he can decipher. He’s kept to making a list—half because he likes lists, half because he wonders how long it’ll get.

Four months in and he’s at number 9—more or less.

This one shocks him though. Has him poking his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. You’re pulling your hair out of a pony tail, humming along to the intro music for a newscast in Spanish. Do you speak Spanish?

“Sugar plum—“ he loves every weird nickname you’ve given him over the months— “I can hear the whine of your brain from here.”

It’s then you turn to really look at him. Smirking. Gleaming in the shadows of the bathroom light. Wearing nothing more than a sports bra and shorts. His mouth runs dry as he tries to keep his thoughts present and clean.

He takes the toothbrush from his mouth. You giggle as he speaks through the spit. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I must not talk about work enough,” you mutter to yourself, slipping into bed. Like you belong. “My entire job is setting up relationships between the hotel company I work for and Latin American, well, anything. Hotels, river cruises, restaurants—I speak Spanish more than I do English some weeks.”

He nods, finishes brushing his teeth to process the thought. No, you don’t talk about work enough, and he’s suddenly worried about what you don’t talk about. It suddenly feels suffocating. Like he doesn’t know a single thing about you. Like he’s never known anything about you.

But as you drag yourself into his side once he’s beside you, as you kiss his cheek and settle in, he’s reminded that he doesn’t need to know everything to care. For you to care back. There’s enough time in the world to figure out all the other stuff. He’s content to learn as it comes. Appreciate every new thing he can get his hands on.

And, hey, if you listen to this podcast enough, he might learn Spanish too.

11. Whose Line is it Anyway? Reruns

“No, absolutely not. I’m putting the kibosh on this. The applause will drive me wild. Please, y/n, anything else.”

15. Spencer

If there hadn’t been a nightmare involved, it wouldn’t have been as terrifying to find you not in bed. To hear the door latch click with someone’s arrival. Or someone’s departure.

He’s out of bed before he can process. Before his brain can calm down enough to remind him that it’s fine. That there’s no way a burglar is going to be as loud as you’re being in the next room over.

He jumps out of the bedroom, ready to strangle the intruder with his bare hands, when you give a startled shout, “Jesus christ!” 

Spencer settles. Realises that it’s just you in a sweatshirt and slippers. You look utterly exhausted in the dim light of the apartment. Fidgeting and restless despite the slump to your shoulders. He vaguely wonders if he should make you a pot of coffee to calm you down.

The world catches up to him and he slumps into the wall. Is it so wrong to be this decidedly tired after a nightmare that he could’ve sworn wasn’t coming back? The two of you stare each other down, both equally apprehensive to the other for decidedly similar reasons.

Spencer’s entire body is beginning to light on fire. He doesn’t want to burn you in the process.

You’re buzzing and tired and angry and there’s no reason to take any of that out on him.

“Can’t sleep?” he finally prompts.

You scrub your hands over your face, fluff your curls, in response. “I walked the stairs four times, bug. I’m so—“

“Frustrated?”

“Yes.”

He nods his head, waves you over. You half heartedly trudge over to him, lean your head into his chest and feel at least a tiny amount of frustration drift away. He pulls you both back to bed—he can’t believe he’s functioning this well, but maybe it’s just because he’s fulfilling the need to think about anything else. There’s a hesitance as you lay back down and he knows that you’ve probably tried everything. That you don’t believe you’ll get any sleep at 2:45 in the morning.

“You’ve worked through the list then?” he asks. Your eyebrows pinch as you settle onto your side, giving him your full attention. “The things that make you fall asleep,” he clarifies, “you know, that list.”

“Do you—do you keep a list?” your voice is almost judgemental, but decidedly too curious. He nods. “I’ve never had anyone care that much.”

“So where are you at?” he says instead. There’s too much to unpack. Too much for his still swimming brain. He needs something concrete. “What’ve you tried?”

You go through your list, letting every inch of agony you’ve faced for the last four hours creep over your face. Spencer watches as you turn over one more time and groan into the pillow. “I think I’d rather just suffocate at this rate.”

He chuckles. “Stop being dramatic. Come here, let me try something.”

“But—“

“Just—please, y/n?” he doesn’t understand your refusal to trust him sometimes—it’s always about such strange things, like how he does the dishes or what brand of milk to buy. You scoot over to him, settle into his chest with an indignant huff. As if you aren’t tightening around him like a vice.

He clears his throat, drags his fingers softly up and down your spine, and picks the most boring thing—for you at least—he can think of to recite: quantum physics. He feels you relax after a minute. Your eyes close and your nose sinks a little deeper into his shirt. It takes nearly two chapters to get you to zonk out. Long enough that he’s worried you were right, that he was just too interesting for you. Even if he was reciting quantum physics literature.

He keeps droning for a little time after he thinks you must be—have to be—asleep. And just as he settles, just as his eyes are closing and he could drift off peacefully, he doesn’t miss the ever quiet, ever gentle words, “You’re too interesting, Spence, too goddamn interesting.”

You roll over, your back pressed against his side. He wants to laugh. He doesn’t, just ends up dreaming of something nearly as peaceful as falling asleep beside you.

[hotchley]

hotchner’s hoodie

What’s up, I’m Sumayyah, I’ve been on CM tumblr for just over a year and I never cross-posted my first four fics until now, which is only because I changed my url, and now my laptop is going to die in 11 minutes so..

This is for @themetaphorgirl‘s PSOLC verse. You should read it. This is no longer compliant with that canon, but you know what, it is fine! I am literally doing this for the sake for a masterlist <3

Trigger Warnings: child abuse

read on ao3!

Aaron Hotchner was completely fine. He was not freaking out, he was not stressed and he most certainly was not about to burst into tears. He was a cool, calm and collected seventeen year old that was responsible, wise beyond his years and more mature than Alex Miller and James Blake put together. 

Okay maybe he wasn’t the last one, but he was still a responsible teenager. He was not a child. He would not start crying over stupid, insignificant events.

But he could not find his hoodie. On any other day, not knowing the location of his hoodie would be greeted with a shrug, and the general acceptance that it would turn up somewhere. One of the younger kids- most likely Spencer- would have taken it because they were cold and had forgotten to put in the laundry. And that was fine. It had been fine since he’d met them and realised they needed at least one responsible person in their lives, if only to keep them alive. 

But this wasn’t any other day, and as childish as it made him feel, he just really wanted to feel the soft and warm material of the hoodie against his bare arms. He wanted the familiar smell of the floral laundry detergent Lincoln House had ended up with when Penelope had worn the hoodie as soon as it came out of the wash and declared that they needed a new one. He wanted the one small piece of home that had not been tainted by memories of pain, tears and fear to remind himself why he went back there.

He would never tell the others, but the hoodie hadn’t been his choice. It had been Sean’s. They had gone together with his mother’s credit card- his father would never let him near his money- to buy him some extra clothes before he left for school. He’d spent the entire time worrying about what they would come home to and had been too stressed on making sure Sean was never out of his sight to properly look at what he was buying, just putting things that weren’t tacky or expensive in the basket and hoping for the best.

But then Sean had rubbed the front of the hoodie he was still searching for- he had could have sworn he left it in the bed drawer- and started laughing. Told him that it was so soft and nice and cuddly and warm that he had to buy it. And when he had hesitated, not sure whether buying something like that would land him in trouble, Sean had gasped. Said it was blue, just like his eyes and because he wouldn’t take a teddy to remind him of home, this could be the same thing.

He’d been unable to say no, so he’d gotten it, hidden it amongst the various textbooks and notebooks, and never taken it home. His father still didn’t know about the little indulgence. His mother did. She’d been so worried about him, but he’d been determined to take one good thing to the school with him.

So yes, he had never told anyone else why he was so attached to an old hoodie, but it was because he didn’t want them to know the truth. He didn’t want them to ask why he’d never said anything to the school, why he’d never trusted them enough to tell them, or the question that kept him laying awake at night: why had he left his mom and little brother in that house with that man?

His hands were starting to shake as he reached the bottom of the drawer with no sign of the hoodie and he reminded himself to breathe. It was just a hoodie, it wasn’t anything special. And if his father could see him… 

He didn’t want to think about that. Not when he had just been home for the weekend because his mother had told him about how Sean had been so brave when he had been getting his vaccines because he wanted to be like his big brother superhero and not ask for help. Most people would’ve found it endearing.

Hotch found it sickening. He’d never wanted Sean to be like him: a seventeen-year-old too afraid of rejection to ask for anything.

He pushed the thoughts of his father from his mind. He couldn’t find his hoodie anywhere in his room, which meant one of the kids had to have it. Lessons were finished, the library was closed, but there was still a decent amount of time before dinner, which meant that they would probably all be in the Lincoln House common room.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and went down. He could hear them all laughing about something from the hallway and smiled. They were an odd group, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he would be there had he not been the RA for his floor, but he loved them. And he never wanted to stop hearing that laughter.

Which was why it made sense that it stopped as soon as he walked in. Everyone was sat in their usual seat: Alex and James were snuggled up on one of the sofas with Spencer in her lap, Emily was laying next to them, doing something on her phone. JJ and Penelope were sat on the floor, Derek crouching behind them and Dave was watching them all fondly from the armchair.

“Hey guys,” he said, even though they were all aware of his presence. “I was just wondering if anyone had seen my hoodie.”

They all looked at each other, the younger kids sheepish, the older ones smirking. He fought back the urge to let the tears spill and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was meant to be the responsible one.

“Look if one of you kids was wearing it and got jelly or mud or whatever it was on there I won’t be mad just tell me so I can put it in the wash,” he said, trying to keep his tone as gentle as possible so he didn’t scare the younger kids.

Derek snickered.

He sighed. “If it was used to put out a kitchen fire, I will also not be mad.”

Emily looked like she was two seconds away from dying of repressed laughter.

“And if you put Spencer in it and then dragged him round because he didn’t want to move and then somehow got water all over it, I won’t shout.”

JJ and Penelope gave each other identical smiles.

“If you decorated it with football and unicorn stickers because you thought it needed a bit of brightening up, that is fine but can you please, please just tell me where it is?” he repeated, his tone turning pleading at the end.

Both Alex and James gave him a concerned look, probably wondering why he was getting so worked up, but neither said anything as he schooled his features back into neutrality.

“Oh go on, put him out of his misery,” Dave said.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief. He would get his hoodie back and everything would be fine. He would be fine.

“Hey Aaron. You left it at Roosevelt when you came to practice and then I forgot to give it back earlier. I promise I kept it safe, I know how much it means to all of you over here,” a very beautiful female voice said.

Hotch felt his heart stop and he squeezed his eyes shut. No. This was not happening to him. Haley Brooks was not sat there, laughing with his friends when he wasn’t there. She had not heard him go over all the various trials and tribulations his hoodie had suffered through. She had not just told everyone that when he had said he needed to speak to Gideon, he’d been lying because he’d gone to meet her and practice so he didn’t look like an idiot. And she most definitely was not stood in front of him, wearing it.

“Aaron?” 

“I- yes. Erm, thank you. That was- that’s- it’s really, really nice on you,” he stuttered, already aware that his cheeks were completely red.

“On you?” she repeated with that angelic smile. 

Oh god, had he really said that?

“Of you. It’s really nice of you to bring it over here. And you, umm, you look really pretty wearing it. Not that you don’t look pretty when you don’t wear it, you do, and I never say anything but-“

She rubbed his arm. His bare arm. “It’s fine, Aaron. I know what you meant. And it wasn’t that much effort to walk over here. Besides, I got to see Penelope and meet the rest of your family. They’re all amazing by the way.”

He stopped staring at her eyes and started staring at his arm, willing the goose bumps to go down. “Well thank you anyways. And they are, aren’t they?”

He could’ve punched the air. He got a whole sentence out without stuttering once.

“So you seemed pretty desperate to get it back,” she said, starting to take it off. The t-shirt she wore underneath had some musical reference on it, he didn’t know what one but he swallowed as he tried to keep his eyes on her face, not any lower. “Any particular reason?”

“No, no reason. I just-“ he was just what? There was nothing he could say without sounding pathetic. “It’s nothing. In fact if you’re cold why don’t you keep it? I can just grab a different one or something, my room is just up there, it’s fine.”

“Aaron, it’s your hoodie, you have every right to wear it. Here, move your arm and I’ll even put it on for you.”

“Haley, it’s fine. If you don’t wear it you’re going to freeze and if you try to get to Kennedy then you’ll be late for dinner,” he said.

She laughed, and although it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he couldn’t help but feel like she was mocking him. “Come on Aaron, let me put it on you.”

No, she couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. If she touched him, he would flinch at the pain and she would ask why. She would know. They all would.

“Yeah Aaron, let her,” Emily teased, having put her phone down to watch him and Haley.

Aaron. Aaron. Why was everyone calling him that? He squeezed his eyes shut. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll just grab a jacket from upstairs and then we can head to dinner.”

“Oh come on Hotch, stop being difficult, let Haley touch you,” Derek teased.

 Stop being so difficult you little bitch. Stop moving Aaron, or I’ll make it worse for you. Keep your mouth shut or Sean will wake up. Imagine what it would do to him if he saw his older brother crying like a little girl. That’s right. Don’t make a sound, or you’ll be sorry.

“Aaron, you’re shaking,” Haley said, concern colouring her voice.

Shaking like a little terrified child, you’re not a child anymore stop acting like one. You’re a disgrace to this family. You need to learn what happens to disgraces. They get hurt and nobody loves them, nobody ever respects them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t, I’ll be good, just don’t,” he mumbled, legs giving out as he fell to his knees, bowing his head, leaving his hands on his thighs, away from his back and face.

“Aaron?” Haley whispered as she knelt in front of him. 

He shook his head. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the rejection in her eyes as she realised he was damaged beyond repair.

“Hotch,” she said, this time more firmly.

He lifted his head just enough to see her mouth, pressed into a thin line as concern was written all over her face. When she realised he was looking at her, she smiled.

“Hey. There’s nothing to be sorry about okay? You haven’t done anything wrong. I promise. You’ve been absolutely perfect.”

“Weak,” he whispered.

“No, you’re so strong Aaron, you always have been. You’ve been strong for a little too long, that’s all. It’s okay though. You can let it go. You’re safe. I promise. Just let me hold you for a few minutes.”

And that was what broke the barrier. Feeling someone touch his back- a mess of scars and bruises- with a gentleness he’d only ever seen, never felt. 

He let himself cry, completely forgetting that the rest of his friends- no, his family- were right there. 

When the tears finally stopped falling, he realised he felt a lot warmer. At some point, Haley had slipped the hoodie onto him. He felt lighter now he was wearing it. He felt happier, knowing she hadn’t run, hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t had the response he had thought they would all have.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He jerked back to reality. She was still sat in front of him. The rest of the kids were watching them, the younger ones on the brink of crying. Dave and Emily looked like they were ready to break into his house and kill his dad. James and Alex were watching, the concern in their eyes enough to make him want to cry again. They cared. They loved him.

“No,” he managed to choke out.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And you never have to hide around any of us anymore,” she said.

Hotch nodded, still feeling a bit like a ghost.

“We’re always going to be here if you want to talk about it,” Alex said softly.

“And if you want to punch something, I’ll join you,” Derek added. Emily and Dave nodded in agreement.

“You can always come home to mine,” JJ suggested. “I told my parents about you, they think you’re really cool.”

“If you ever want a soft toy to cuddle in the night, I have loads!” Penelope exclaimed. Hotch managed to laugh.

Spencer moved off Alex’s lap and walked towards Hotch, his own eyes full of unshed tears. Haley shifted to his side and Spencer threw his arms around the older boy in a tight hug. Hotch realised he was shaking as the tears fell.

“I may be small, but I’m a genius and if he ever hurts you again, I’ll work out a way to make his life a living hell,” he whispered.

Hotch started laughing at that too.

“See. We’re here for you, no matter what demons haunt you,” Haley said.

Everyone nodded.

He smiled. “Thank you. All of you.”

“We’re your friends. You don’t need to say thank you,” Emily said. When everyone stared at her, she flushed and started picking at her nail polish again.

“She’s right you know. They’re your friends.”

He picked up on the fact that she excluded herself. “And what are you?” he asked, wondering why he was asking. She was probably going to say something like acquaintance, and then he would just be sat there like an idiot.

“Are you going to be okay with them? It is a little bit cold- do not give me that look Aaron Hotchner- and I need to grab a hoodie. And don’t even try and give me yours, I want you to wear it, it’s cute on you.”

He blushed. “Thank you, I- yes. I mean yes I’ll be fine with them, not yes like you need a hoodie and you can go, because you don’t need me to tell you what you can and can’t do, like that wasn’t what I was trying-”

She pushed his hair off his forehead, laughing slightly. “I know. But you wanted to know what I am to you right? Maybe this’ll help you work it out.”

And then she kissed his forehead before waving goodbye to everyone and leaving.

Hotch remained sat there, completely shocked.

Penelope squealed and he winced at the sound.

“Get it!” Emily shouted.

His blush became even more prominent. “Shut up.”

“Err, no. Haley kissed Hotchner!” Derek said, laughing.

“Oh my gosh, Haley and Hotchner. You guys could be called Halner! No wait, how about Hotley?”

“Penelope, shut up,” he pleaded, but he smiled as he said it.

She matched his grin. Derek and Emily were high-fiving. Dave looked smug. Alex and James looked so proud. JJ had a small smile, one that showed she was happy for him but was still a little grossed out by the thought of romance. Spencer looked horrified. That made his smile even wider.

Things were far from perfect. And one kiss wasn’t going to solve his issues. But with a group of his friends that loved him, that he could trust with his life and a girl who had done the opposite of running for the hills, he could finally start to heal.