#might clean this up / extend it a bit and post it on ao3 after i finish my fth fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kithtaehyung · 3 years

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Last November (M)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like always.

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, I can just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like my singing voice, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you tell her yet?”

“No.”

“Do it. She deserves to know.”

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

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

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

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

The news had to be something urgent.

Was Seokjin getting married?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So that song is…”

“Wrong. Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you feel like that was significant?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s he hiding from me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But aren’t they yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. We are not doing that again.”

“Come on, hyung, it’ll be fun!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fluttering in your chest was quickly shooed away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—Kook!”

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

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

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

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

Why wasn’t anyone saying anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kook [8:33pm]: I’m so sorry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a breath, you finally knocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t want that.

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

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

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

“What if I’m not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Well, it’s none of your concern.”

“I don’t care if it is or not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That must have been hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “I mean, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what if you were this time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

It was you. He was talking about you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agony consumed your entire being as you made your decision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m just lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was too hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?”

“We leave at 7 in the morning.”

“And?”

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

Silence.

All you could respond with was silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jinnie.”

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

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

His eyebrows furrowed, but you pushed on.

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

His response came out in a rush, “What are you… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.” You huffed out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Damn it, I— I just love you. I love you so much it hurts.”

A shaky exhale left you at the look on his face. The quick descent into realization formed in the corners of his eyes, tears pooled at the edges before quickly streaming down his cheeks, collecting at the crux of his chin. Glassy orbs bore straight into your soul in search of answers, of truth. And if he wanted those answers, you already admitted the biggest one, so words were easier to come by.

“I’ve felt this way ever since our trip last year,” you started, slowly inching toward the wreck of a man. Not like you fared any better with the streaks forming on your own cheeks. “And I know it’s the stupidest thing to tell you now since you’re leaving, and we failed at long distance before, but--”

Seokjin breathed out your name, and his next words would stay imprinted in your mind forever. “I still want to try. And I’ll try as many times as you’ll let me.”

“I know. I know that now,” you whispered.

Passion and warmth bloomed in your chest, spiraling out into the far reaches of your limbs. Hundreds of nights imagining him accepting you again didn’t prepare you for this feeling. Nothing was holding you back; your walls came crashing down.

You finally broke and shielded your face in your hands, and you felt sturdy arms shield you from the world. The cruel, beautiful world that brought you two together right before he disappeared from your life again. You cried, and sobbed, and wheezed. The elation from his confession only magnified the pain of his departure.

You felt the weight of the Polaroid leave your chest as Seokjin lifted it from your neck. “Come inside,” Seokjin whispered into your hair, earning a hiccup from your chest. “Please.”

It was only then that you noticed you were still out in the hall. A small nod from you was all he needed to guide you into his room, and your throat constricted at the bags lying open on the bed.

Seokjin was already packing. Packing while thinking he was going to go through the same thing he went through last time. You felt absolutely sick. How could you even think of doing this to him? If there was a way to make it all up to him, you would do it. “I didn’t want to tell you before,” you confessed, burying your nose into his chest. “But that was wrong of me. You almost left without knowing. I’m so sorry.”

Strong, lean fingers traveled through your hair as your camera was placed on a table. The heavy clunk it made reached your ears, and a whisper followed. “I didn’t want to tell you, either. You don’t need to apologize.”

“If I told you earlier, we would’ve had more time. Now I’m just sad.”

“Look at me.” Jin caressed the back of your head, naturally lifting your gaze. His watery eyes took yours in, and he leaned forward to kiss the top of your hair. “We still have tonight, so if we’re going to be sad, let’s wait until after.”

“But you’re crying, too,” you observed, feeling slightly better from his words. How Seokjin was able to have that effect on you, you would never understand.

A light huff from him made you melt. “That’s because I’m so happy,” he confessed, softly laughing again and wiping his eyes with both hands.

He was happy. Seokjin was happy. You looked at the growing smile under his fingers, and you had no choice but to grin and join in his laughter.

Not because it was funny. But because it was unbelievable. You were able to gift him the last piece he was missing - he was finally able to find that happiness. How were you about to deny that from him? Now it seemed unfathomable.

When you looked at his hands again, you noticed there were lingering cuts. Worry washing over you, you cradled one in your palms and asked as Seokjin looked at you, “Should I take care of this, too?” Though the man had more than enough knowledge on playground injury care, you still offered because you wanted to be there for him in any possible way.

He replied instantly, “I took care of everything. Jimin, too. You saw him being his usual self earlier.”

“He said he’d give you hell if you didn’t talk to me on this trip. I didn’t think he would go this far, though.” You reached up to run a thumb along the small gash on Seokjin’s cheek, the blood drying into a deep red. “I’ll make him regret it later.”

Jin leaned into your touch, causing sparks in your skin. “Don’t,” he whispered, “He’s the reason I ended up at your door.”

You just nodded and lost yourself in the feel of his soft face. It was incredibly smooth under your fingers, even better than when you held his cheeks all those years ago. To think that this man loved you ever since then, and continued to do so until now, was unbelievable. But it was true, and no amount of words could account for how you felt about that.

Those eyes overflowing with adoration and affection were solely for you, and diving into them felt like being immersed in sunlit waters.

“Can I kiss you?”

The simple question took you by surprise, but you gazed at his lips. They only looked inviting, so who were you to deny him? “Please,” you sighed, and your eyelids closed shut at his pillowy touch.

Color sprang from your heart at his confession, but heat burst from your chest at his kiss. The moment his lips met yours, every worry wrapped around your conscience snapped in two. Vines of doubt, regret, and anxiety withered under the warmth of Seokjin’s touch. It was cleansing. Powerful. Searing.

A hand captured the back of your neck, and Jin took advantage of your gasp by dragging his tongue around the edge of your lips, a wordless plea to let him in. You gave in immediately, leaning forward and deepening the kiss, roping his tongue and eliciting a groan.

Heat rushed between your legs and you echoed his sound with a soft moan of your own. Unwittingly, your hands found their way to Seokjin’s chest and you reveled in the feel of him under the thin material of his shirt. Without breaking your lips from his, you skirted the cotton hem with your fingers.

Jin knew what you wanted, and his grin against your mouth only made you flush with desire. He broke from your lips to fully remove his shirt, and seeing his bare chest wiped the air from your lungs. You could only stare as you took in the lines of his solid build, wondering how the hell he had the time to achieve that look.

Seokjin smirked at your reaction, tossing his top and hauling the bags off his bed while you were taking time to process everything. “Do I need to charge you?”

You shook your empty head like a zombie. Your brain was currently mush, purely focused on the way his muscles rippled and slid against the confines of his skin. “No, don’t. I didn’t bring any money with me.”

Laughter erupted from the other side of the bed. After Seokjin placed the last bag on the floor, he straightened and clarified, “I meant plug you in. You seem to be buffering over there. Low battery?”

“Shut up and get on the bed,” you teased, shrugging off the coat you still had on. You didn’t even get to change since coming in from the campfire.

“Shut up and get on the bed, yes,” Seokjin fired back mercilessly as he sat on the comforter. He knew exactly how to push you. Even though you laughed, you made you way over to him and stood between his legs.

You were silent then. No matter how happy you were, his departure tomorrow was weighing on you. The time you had with him was short.

You wanted to make the most of it. Bringing your hand up to his face, you made sure to lightly skim over his gashes before mapping the rest. You wanted to ingrain every curve, every dip, every feature into memory. Every second was precious. The polaroid you had of him would still be no match for the real thing. If only you could capture the warmth of someone and keep it frozen in time.

Sure fingers clasped your hand, and Seokjin softly pulled you closer. Your first instinct was to rush in and hug him for dear life, and he immediately did the same to you, snatching the breath from your lungs and tugging tears from your ducts. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent and lamenting all the time you spent worrying over the smallest things.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Seokjin whispered, squeezing your heart.

“I know,” you choked. You didn’t have much else to say.

“I just want to make sure we use it to do what you want.”

You loosened your hold on him, astonished by his consideration. The growing bulge under his pants was more than screaming his wants. You felt it ever since the first kiss. But even still, he wanted to accommodate you. Your needs before his.

It just made you fall for him even more.

Reaching down to skim your fingers along his cock straining against his pants, you hovered your lips over his neck. “I want you,” you whispered before descending upon the smooth expanse of skin and earning a groan.

Without warning, Seokjin tightened his arms around you. In one smooth motion, he effortlessly lifted you to straddle his thighs. You didn’t have time to think as he followed up with grabbing your head, pulling you down for another heated kiss. Your fingers latched onto his shoulders, scraping them when he thrust his tongue into your mouth.

“Don’t do that yet,” he grunted, and you didn’t need to ask why after feeling a twitch in his jeans.

You obeyed for the time being, cupping his neck with both hands. When you rolled your body against his, the hard feel of his stomach made you whimper. It was when you settled back on his hardness that your eyes widened. You were sure he was aching despite his silence. Maybe you could help him out a bit. “Jinnie,” you whispered, a firm hand on his chest, “Lie back for me.”

“I love hearing that again,” Seokjin admitted through a content smile, starting a fire across your cheeks. He leaned back after giving you another peck, and you plucked yourself from his thighs to take your shoes off.

But time was your biggest motivator to strip most of your clothes at that moment - not just your boots. Your pants were first, followed by your sweater, and finally your shirt. The whole time, Seokjin stayed propped on his elbows, watching you intently. He couldn’t hide the adoration in his eyes even if he tried. As he watched you stand there in nothing but your set, he smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you whispered in return. “Still not as great as you, though.” You started unbuttoning his jeans before he could defend his stance, and he lifted his lower body to help you shrug them off with his underwear. When Seokjin’s thick cock sprung free, your heart jumped at the sight. It had been so long since you felt it, tasted it, rode it. Was he thinking the same? Taking his velvety length in your hand for the first time in a long time, you felt a burst of confidence at its familiarity and his response.

“Baby,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t need another word. At the sound of the familiar pet name, you already started hovering over his cock, admiring how pretty it was before diving in. Licking around the head, you used the slick to glide your mouth far down his shaft, rolling your hand along the bottom to coat the rest.

Seokjin jolted at the sudden pleasure, and you felt a pang in your heart. You wanted him to remember this night. And you were much more experienced than you were before, though you would only get so much time to prove your growth.

Coming up for air, you used your hand to gather the rest of your spit and slide it down his cock, rubbing it a few times before diving down again. The stilted, garbled noises coming from your filled mouth were even getting your own underwear soaked, but they weren’t a match for Seokjin’s. His delicious grunts and moans sent you close to the edge. They were deeper than you remembered, and he wasn’t one to shy away from showing you how turned on and pleasured he was feeling.

The prominent veins of his cock were the roads along which your tongue traveled, and you made sure to love them all in between stuffing him fully in your warm mouth. He was so big, but you wanted to take every inch, tears welling in your eyes with your efforts.

You fought through even when you felt him rock the back of your throat. Seokjin took that moment to sit up, causing tears to leak fully down your cheeks at the deeper thrust. His hands dove into your hair, but he didn’t force your head down. Instead, they tugged you off his cock, and he gazed down lovingly at your wrecked expression. Jin’s voice dipped an octave and came out coated in sin as he asked, “Can you go a little more for me, beautiful?”

Your body tingled on instinct. You nodded and, when he smiled, you gripped his drenched dick in your fingers before descending your mouth onto his balls. Seokjin bucked his hips forward in a jolt as you grinned, lapping at his salty skin and delighting in the tremulous groans rolling down your back. Your hand squeezed the tip of his shaft before you straightened again, taking his cock captive without pause.

“Shit,” he grunted, his long fingers diving into your hair. His hands still didn’t push you down further, oddly, so you took the initiative and plunged down yourself.

The feel of his cock in your mouth was so familiar. It was almost second nature how easily you sucked him off, knowing when to hollow your cheeks and pull him further down the abyss of ecstasy. When to sink further and hum, ripping a delicious sound from his throat. Even when to bob and swirl your head around, effectively shutting down his ability to function.

It was then that you chose to really bring it home. You breathed through your nose as you took more and more of him in, even after you couldn’t breathe anymore. You felt your nose hit this pubic bone, and the long moan you got from Seokjin was worth the burn in your throat. His fingers tightened around your head, but when you came up gasping for air he didn’t stop you.

“Come here,” is all he said, tugging you up to straddle him again. A trail of saliva swung from your lips as you came up, but you paid it no mind. If anything, it added to the building lust inside your bones. Your panties were absolutely drenched by now, so dragging your core along Seokjin’s cock caused both of you to twinge. “Fuck,” he gasped, fueling your heat.

“Jinnie, please,” you whimpered, your voice hoarse. You wanted everything from him at once. You were getting impatient, and the overwhelming time pressure was stressing you the hell out. “I need you, please.”

Suddenly, everything stopped as Seokjin cradled your chin and swiped the spit from your lips. “You have me,” he assured you. “You have all of me.” He kissed your nose. “And you’ll have me for a very long time.”

Relenting, you leaned into his touch. “Now is what I’m concerned about.”

“I know,” he agreed before kissing you again. “I just wanted you to know the rest.”

“Okay,” you whispered before capturing his full lips with your own. When you felt him wrapping his arms around you, your heart leaped into your throat. When you felt him shift the both of you to lower you onto the bed, you already knew fresh tears were waiting behind your eyes.

With great care, Jin slipped your underwear off your smooth legs. Your bra was deftly unhooked next - not without an eyebrow raise from you and a wink from him - and tossed from the bed.

Staring at your naked form, Seokjin appeared completely lost in thought. It got to the point where you felt like covering yourself, but when you attempted to he swiftly denied any insecurity. “Don’t keep this from me,” he whispered. “I want to remember everything.”

You kept it together until then. Something in you broke and you softly choked on a cry. So he was thinking the same as you. This was the last night for a long time.

Starting from your shoulder, he kissed his way down along your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Taking one breast in one hand, he swirled his tongue around the nipple of the other. You gasped from the sudden burst of pleasure, which made Seokjin repeat the motion on the other side. He then lightly sucked on the nipple, releasing it with a small pop.

You wanted to close your eyes and lose yourself in the waves of pleasure he was giving you, making his way down your body. But you wanted to relive this night again and again. So you had to keep your eyes on him. Only him. His mouth’s searing heat as it kissed along your stomach, and the stark cold left behind when he moved on. His soft touch as he gently pried your legs open, and dark, lust-filled eyes as he stared at your dripping entrance. You wanted to remember the way he kissed along your legs, nipping in some places to make you gasp. The way his beautiful lips connected with your heat in a reverent kiss before his tongue explored inside. Each flick of his tongue, squeeze of his fingers on your legs, noise from his lips. How you loved him through every second of him worshipping you.

As soon as he brought his fingers up to caress your folds while sucking on your clit, you had to stop him. It was too much. You wanted to feel him when you broke.

Seokjin wordlessly obeyed as he crawled above you. You pulled him down for a kiss, not caring how he tasted. Your hands then went to his shoulders as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Are you still…”

“Yes,” you nodded, touched that he remembered. “I’m still on it.”

“Okay.” He swooped down to capture your lips, and when you clenched your fingers around his shoulders, he grunted. “Are you okay to take it all?”

“Go slow. For now,” you said, earning a nod. “It’s been awhile.”

Seokjin’s gaze was heavy as he prepared himself. “Same.”

At the initial push, you whooshed out a gasp. It had been way too long since you’d been with someone. The intrusion indeed hurt. Maybe you should have let him prep you more, in hindsight. But Seokjin was nothing but tender as he waited for you to adjust. Once you were okay, he steadily pushed out and in again, going deeper. Slowly but surely, you were able to fully take him in.

And the feel of him completely inside you was nothing like you’ve felt before. It was comfort. It was home. It was a perfect fit, and you wanted to stay like that forever.

“God,” Seokjin groaned, “I don’t want to leave this room.”

You chuckled, rolling your hips. “Hmm, pussy or Harvard. That’s a pretty tough one.”

“If it’s yours, Harvard can wait,” Seokjin grunted before sending your thoughts spiraling with a huge thrust. You outright whined at him, but he pulled out only to spear you again with one long motion. “You still like it rough, baby?”

Chills cascaded down your spine and pooled at the apex of your toes. This was the Seokjin you were waiting for. You wondered if he was still into that after witnessing everything he was doing for you beforehand. But oh, were you ready for the pivot. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned. “You know I do.”

“You still have your word?”

“Carousel, yes.”

“Good girl.” That was all Seokjin needed. Grabbing the top of the headboard behind you, he launched into a rough and relentless pace that had you seeing stars. You felt so full, yet so weightless as you let your body go limp. The feel of Seokjin’s cock slamming into you repeatedly would continue to exist for months after tonight, the ridges of it sliding along your walls never forgotten entirely. You needed as much as he could give, and he knew that.

Gripping one of your legs, he hauled it over his sweat-slicked shoulder and tilted himself to reach a deeper position, twisting his reddened face to plant kisses on your ankle. Mewl after mewl tumbled from your lips at the deep thrusts.

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Jin commanded while still pounding into you, and you wouldn’t dream of disobeying. Your fingers went straight for your jiggling breasts, teasing your nipples and tugging them for his blown out eyes. You moaned, and smirked when you saw Seokjin beginning to lose himself.

His tell was his scrunched eyebrows, and his eyes shifting down to watch his cock ram into your tight cunt. You still knew, after years.

You fell into complete ecstasy when he reached down with his free hand to rub your clit between your bodies, loving the way the veins in his arms protruded. Imagining licking along them all made you moan. And you didn’t care if the people around you heard. All of your mewls, moans, whines - they were all for Jin. He could have all of you again and again.

After one particularly deep thrust, he tugged his cock out, leaving your walls fluttering around an agonizing emptiness. “Turn around. On your knees.”

“Holy fuck, yes,” you rasped. He wasn’t letting the night go to waste at all.

Before you even assumed the next position, you felt a hand come down on your ass. The smack jolted you forward in pain, with pleasure settling in its wake.

“So pretty,” Seokjin whispered, ghosting his hand over the spot he spanked. He gave it another smack before gripping your ass cheeks apart. You assumed he was roving his eyes over your drenched core. “And still so wet.”

“Just for you,” you affirmed.

“Just for me,” he repeated before adjusting his knees on the bed to get closer. “But you might be too loud tonight, baby. I’m going to need silence from you this time.”

Shit. You were never, ever good at this part. But you nodded. What you weren’t expecting right away was the initial stroke to be rough, right down to the hilt. You cried out immediately, earning you a harsh spank.

Seokjin’s sudden laugh made you chuckle in embarrassment. He breathily joked, “Out of practice?”

“Something like that,” you admitted, your elbows and grin lost in the sheets. “I’m rusty.”

“Okay, let’s just do this then.” Jin leaned forward, stretching over you. You groaned at the feel of his solid chest on your soft back, your eyes rolling into your head feeling him completely mold into you for a moment. He got a fluffy pillow from the other side of the bed and let your head rest on it. “Can you bite this for me, my love?”

The new name spread wildfire across your face. “Yes. That I can do,” you assured him. When you had the material securely in your mouth, you nodded to signal he could continue.

“Good girl.” And continue Seokjin did. He went right back into the dominant Jin he loved being, and the one you loved being with. There was no mercy in his thrusts, stroke after stroke after stroke. If you lifted your back a little or lowered your butt, he smacked your supple flesh and corrected you instantly. “Ass up, baby.”

With Jin’s relentless pace, your body went limp and hung on by a thread. Loosening up allowed for even more of his cock, and your muffled moans started getting louder the closer and closer you got to the edge. You could feel your core tightening, threatening to unleash the pent up tension.

“That’s it, beautiful,” Seokjin praised, feeling your walls squeeze around him. “Do you want to come like this?”

You hastily shook your head. You wanted to see him when you came. And if you remembered correctly, he loved seeing your face when it happened, as well.

“Too bad,” he chuckled darkly, and you almost came undone right then. “Guess you’ll have to come again the way you want to later.” Reaching under you, he toyed with your clit as he kept the pace from behind.

You let go of the pillowcase as you kicked your head back in a moan, your saliva trail slowly gravitating toward the sheets. Seokjin only let you breathe for a second before pushing your head back down into the thin material. “Make noise again and you won’t come at all.”

Fuck. You bit hard into the pillow, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself losing control. His fingers felt divine on your bundle of nerves, his dick sliding through your folds over and over and over. The hand he placed on your head smoothed over your hair before bunching it and tugging. You reared back, dots swimming in your vision. “God, I want to choke you. Can I do that, my love?”

You released the pillow from your mouth again. His consideration was top notch tonight. Too much? You couldn’t decide or really care. “Yes, just do it. Do anything. Please. I’m so close.”

“Mm. Then cover your mouth.” Before you could follow his command, Seokjin pulled you up by a shoulder to be flush against his front. Sweat coated your back and your ass, causing you to slide down his chiseled stomach while speared on his cock. A strong hand wrapped around your throat, and the fingers that were teasing your clit mercilessly now ventured into the front of your folds.

One of your hands shot up to clamp over your mouth right before you let out a long groan. You loved when he took control, and when he lost control. If both happened at the same time, it was heaven.

You could barely last on your knees as his dick slammed up into you repeatedly. The hand around your airway was tight but only just, his praises in your ear being the real culprit of your stolen breath. Your pussy clenched harshly around his length, and you knew from the tight coil in your body that you were seconds from euphoria.

Seokjin felt it instantly. “Come, baby.” And as soon as he relinquished your throat did you give in, waves of pleasure coursing through you and a white burn shimmering in your lungs. It seemed endless. Ripple after ripple thrummed through your body, your joints slowly unlocking from their initial freeze. Behind you, Seokjin groaned and sang sweet nothings in your ear, his arms wrapping around your chest in a scorching embrace.

The high ebbed, but did not completely recede. You knew Jin still needed release, so you kissed his wrist next to your shoulder and whispered, “I want to see you now.”

“Whatever you need.” Seokjin slowly unsheathed himself, and you felt a slight pain. You watched as he positioned his back on the headboard. He knew what you wanted to do.

You made your way over to him and hovered over his length. Locking your hazy eyes with his dark set, you kissed him lazily as you languidly sank back onto him. Seokjin groaned when you didn’t use your hand as a guide beforehand. And frankly, that turned you on, too.

“You’re so tight still,” he grunted, his hands coming up and grabbing your ass before settling on your hips.

You rolled your hips before finding a rhythm. “You’re just big,” you mock complained, earning a deep chuckle.

“Aww. You sound. So. Sad,” he teased, thrusting up into you to punctuate each word. Your mewls were welcome now since he was done with his role. Now he could just sit back and enjoy your show for him. And occasionally torture you.

You found your rhythm again, rougher with him now with your hands in his dark, sweaty locks. One of your hands dropped onto his chest and raked down his breast, eliciting a higher moan than normal.

The sound caused heat to pool between your legs again, and you upped the pace. Your thighs burned from the exertion, but you kept yourself distracted by diving into Jin’s neck and nipping in multiple places. His arms left your hips to wrap around your back, and your breath faltered as he took over again.

Seokjin was close. He was always close when his limbs locked hard into place. His upward thrusts were fast and hard, and you could only moan in his ear and take him in. The coil that released once tonight was tightening again, and you murmured in his ear that you were close.

Seokjin only needed to kiss you like his life depended on it for you to unravel again. The wave was weaker than last time, but it could still cover mountains. Your head felt light, dancing above the clouds with no intention of coming down. You pushed yourself from his lips, allowing him to see your flushed chest and reddened cheeks. The second orgasm faded and loosened your limbs, but your heart felt completely connected to his, your soul nestled into the comfort of his tender embrace. “I love you,” you sighed, and you immediately felt a huge twitch between your folds.

“Lie down, baby. I’m close.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, cradling his cheek. “Come inside me, Jinnie. I wanna feel you.”

“Shit,” he grunted. His thrusts descended into madness. Your heart rattled at the sight of his dusted red cheeks, sweaty neck, heaving chest. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and the one you would overturn stars to find should you ever lose him again.

When he gazed down at your joined sex, you took in the wet strands of hair on his forehead. When he kicked his head back against the headboard to look at you with lidded eyes, you bit your swollen lips. This wonderful man was your lover, your ex, your friend, and now your lover again. Only this time, you truly loved him back. And you wanted to think back to this moment forever.

Tears sprung into your eyes as he pulled you in for a searing kiss, and his orgasm released into you in spurts. The thrusts he made then were slow and powerful, and your body bobbed with the swells. You kissed him harder than necessary, almost willing to bruise your own lips on his. The longer you held his lips captive, the longer he couldn’t see your sorrow.

But Seokjin already felt the drops ping his chest. He just let you cry because that’s what you needed. Even when he broke from the kiss, he never said a word. He trailed kisses along your wet cheeks, your sweaty nose, and your glistening forehead. His poignant visage held nothing but stars, and it reminded you of the night you fell in love, crushing your spirit ever more.

Touch after touch after touch only coaxed more tears from your eyes. It felt never ending as you sat spent in his lap, still on his softening length. Sheer willpower was what caused you to finally speak, your voice hoarse, “We should clean up. You still need to pack and sleep.”

“We should, and I do,” he whispered. He patted your bum. “Can you get up by yourself?”

You nodded before extracting yourself from his firm thighs, lamenting the fact that human bodies had limits. As you waddled to the bathroom, you stumbled along the way, Seokjin softly chuckled while following you and steadying you when needed. Even when you shot empty glares at him, the smile in his eyes never left.

The rest of your time spent in his room consisted of silence and kisses. Ever the gentleman, he let you lie down on his bed while he used the other half for the bags to pack. It didn’t take him too long since he was organized from the jump, so when he was done he cleared the bed and joined you under the covers. When you felt a weight on your stomach, you looked down to see your camera dumped on the comforter.

Seokjin wrapped a strong arm behind your neck. “What do you call naked pictures taken with a Polaroid?”

“Oh, no.” You turned your head to face him. “What?”

“Just pictures. But that’s old nudes.”

You punished him by attacking his sides instantly, yanking a batch of honky laughs from him. Knowing your own weaknesses still, he unleashed his own parry, and it took a minute for the both of you to settle in a draw.

“Don’t tell me the only reason you brought this into the bed was to tell that horrid joke,” you chuckled, your head back to resting in your pillow.

“Nope. I wanna take one of us.”

After getting past all seven of your objections and excuses, Seokjin whittled your walls down and got you to agree. The end product existed on the last film in your Polaroid: a crooked snapshot of him kissing your cheek as you smiled with creased eyes, sheets held against your chest. And he conceded in letting you keep it after watching you clutch it lovingly in your fingers.

You immediately sought comfort in his embrace after setting the photo next to your phone on the nightstand, and he stole multiple kisses from you way after your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer.

“Get some sleep, my love,” Seokjin whispered.

And despite your sound of protest, you were pulled into the abyss of sleep right as you felt pillowy lips caress your forehead.

Rin-Rin [6:40am]: You’re lucky I love you. I packed your stuff and left out an outfit for you when you come down. Just don’t be late or I’ll drag you back down myself :)))

Jiminie [6:45am]: RISE N SHINE LOVEBIRDS

Rin-Rin [6:46am]: Oh, yeah, I may or may not have texted Jimin.

Jiminie [6:46am]: ABOUT TIME

Jiminie [6:46am]: !!!

Tae [6:47am]: jimins scream woke me up. i can only assume that means ill get to be an uncle soon. dont let me down i want this(:

Joonie [6:48am]: Aaaaaaaaaa !!!

Jiminie [6:48am]: And I know you want to yell at me for yesterday so I am ready for that whenever you are

Kook [6:50am]: <3

You smiled at your texts before locking your phone. Seokjin was already up and about, making sure everything was packed and accounted for. When he saw you stirring, he came over and surprised you with a kiss so deep that it revitalized your sagging emotional state. “Morning,” you chuckled, swinging your sore legs out of the sheets and wincing at the cold. “I need to head back down.”

“Yeah, Rin already sent the first round of threats. I’ll see you at the car, okay?”

You pecked him on the cheek after you slipped on your boots and grabbed your Polaroid. Stepping into the hallway, you kept reminding yourself to not completely lose it yet. There was still a whole car ride you got to have with him, and you were determined to slow down time however you could.

Your phone buzzed again, and you assumed Yoongi and Hoseok were just now waking up and getting the gossip. Checking your notifications only validated your guess.

Hobi [6:52am]: AHHHHH HAPPY FOR U~!!!

Hobi [6:52am]: ASLSKDJSKDHSKDJ

Yoongi [6:53am]: I’ll make sure to drag him back sometimes. It’s ludicrous to say that we’d never see him again. Drama queen. Anyways, happy for you. If you need anything, let me know.

Hobi [6:53am]: we’ll see seokjinnie again love. and if u miss him a lot then we can make sure you see him. im sure he’ll be missing u too

How you were able to win the friend lottery and meet these people, you had no clue. But you weren’t going to ever question the fact. All you would do was embrace your blessings and love them.

The car ride to the airport was long, but still much too short for your liking. Between the loving gazes you directed at Seokjin as he sang along to Taehyung’s music, the looks full of mirth Jimin gave the both of you from the backseat, and the laughter of both Rin and Taehyung, you were the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time.

Throughout the ride, you got the feeling that you were going to be okay. Seokjin was starting an insane adventure, but you were also going to be there every step of the way. Not just on the polaroid he decided to stash in his bag, but in his heart and on his mind like Namjoon said around the fire.

There were still plenty of ways to see each other and communicate. And since he technically didn’t start until next summer, that gave you plenty of time to see him before then. The many possibilities made you question your hesitation in the first place.

But none of that diminished how much of a struggle it was still going to be.

When the car rolled to a stop in the airport parking lot, your chest constricted. When everyone got their bags out of the cars and started the trek to the shuttles, your hands shook on your straps. As soon as everyone started saying their byes and separating to check into their airlines, you found it hard to breathe.

But a tender hand brushed through your hair, and plush lips connected with your forehead. In an instant, you felt okay again.

Seokjin’s calm voice slipped over your features. “Your flight leaves in two hours, right?” When you nodded, he continued, “Okay. Come shop with me before I have to go to my gate!”

You tried your best to keep a positive attitude while you watched Jin peruse different airport stores. When he would hold stuff up for you to approve, you would smile or dramatically turn things down. Even the cute neck pillow he really wanted got the dreaded rejection.

But that was only so you could pay for it when he wasn’t looking and surprise him. The huge laugh and grin you got in return was worth the trouble.

When it was time for Seokjin to head to his gate, you brought him in for a crushing hug. “Let me know when you land,” you demanded.

“Of course, honey,” he said through a smile.

“‘Honey,’ now?” You regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You have so many nicknames for me. I can’t keep up. Do you have a favorite you could stick with?”

Seokjin rested his chin on your head. “Ah, I have a favorite. But it’s not true yet, so I shouldn’t use it.”

A fire ignited in your heart, the flames warming you from the inside. “And which one is that?”

“Would you look at the time!” Jin’s body heat left you in a rush as he stepped away, and your instinctual pout made him laugh outright. He cupped your chin for a kiss that rocked your whole being before pulling away. His eyes held galaxies in them when he stared into yours. “Guess you’ll have to wait for the answer to that one.”

“You’re a jerk, Jinnie,” you huffed, but you kissed him again. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I really am. And I love you,” he responded. His hand came down to squeeze yours before he had to part. “I’ll let you know when I make it. Call me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, and you watched his long strides with a heavy heart and a hopeful mind.

As you told yourself again and again, you were going to be okay. It was going to be tough, it was going to be absolutely painful. But as long as you decided to keep loving each other, everything would work out.

You knew better than anyone that love was a choice. And for Seokjin, you would choose it a thousand times over.

And besides, the current state of technology was on your side. The possibilities of communication were too endless for you to dwell on the distance. Were there going to be days in which you only received one text? Most likely. Were there going to be weeks where you weren’t going to hear much from Seokjin at all? Definitely. But this time, unlike last time, you welcomed every bit of it. Your heart built a bridge to his that defied any sense of physical distance. On opposite sides, both of you were achieving success in your own ways. In the end, you would always come back to each other to celebrate together. Even though this was the last November trip you had with Seokjin, it was the beginning of many, many wonderful years to come.

It was later, while you were waiting for your own flight to finish boarding, that a message was sent to your phone.

Jinnie [12:04pm]: Attachment: 1 Image

You couldn’t help but grin. As you gazed lovingly at the picture of Seokjin smiling next to your polaroid, another one came in before you could respond.

Jinnie [12:05pm]: Until you’re really next to me, this will have to do. Don’t get too jealous!

You laughed to yourself, rolling your eyes while setting the image as your wallpaper. Locking your phone, you tapped the glass to see your screen light up, observing the picture again.

On a plane heading to another city entirely, Seokjin was doing the exact same thing. Except in his case, he was smiling down at a girl caught in mid-laughter, body aglow from the bright yellow lights of a spinning carousel behind her.

a/n: whewww so if you made it to the end, hi! i seriously enjoyed writing this and i learned so much. it’s my first fic and first huge one-shot, so if you have any comments/concerns/constructive feedback, please let me know! my ask box is always open, too. lastly, here is my m.list if you want to browse! 🌨🌨🌨 ++ feedback box (added nov. 25th, 2021): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Just for Mrs Barber

Note - Written for @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes and @amythedvdhoarder 's hoelentine's fic swap challenge! My giftee was the beautiful @kaminorogers . I hope you all like it.

Shoutout to beard kinks resident hoe @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for all her help with this and to my dear friend lizzygal (link to ao3) for the beta.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - Your husband buys you kinky gifts (and a whole ass house) for your anniversary/valentines.

Warnings - 18+ only please! Explicit sexual content, beard kink, bondage, blindfold, dom!Andy.

Pairing - Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 2.6k

You were sure you heard Linda say something, her voice was mixed up in the background noise of everyone chatting and some music. You couldn’t really listen, not when your husband decided that he was going to look that good and distract you, keeping you from being a good hostess.

Andy always looked good. He could roll out of bed and look good enough to eat—although maybe you were a bit biased. He was one of those people who just didn’t realize how handsome he was.

Maybe he had some sort of eyesight problem, because looking at him now. With his hair made up and beard neatly trimmed, wearing a cream sweater and some dark jeans, the whole ensemble was so basic but he pulled it off so well. His pink lips looked so delicious as they sipped on a beer.

“Mrs Barber.”

You gasped when you heard Linda call out to you, clearing your throat you looked back at her. “Yes?”

“I love what you’ve done with the house, it’s so beautiful.”

A genuine smile graced your face as you thanked her. Andy had asked you what you wanted for your first wedding anniversary, you nonchalantly told him that you wanted the most picture perfect and cosy house in the suburbs. That you were too tired of the noise and pollution of the city and longed to have a garden of your own.

Also, a bigger house would be much better if you ever have any youngins. But you didn’t tell him that. Not yet.

You were just being yourself--kind of a spoilt brat. Which shouldn’t have surprised him because he was the one to spoil you with his love and affection and the occasional material gifts.

You absolutely did not expect him to actually buy you a big ass house. It wasn’t too big if you thought about it. Just a master and two smaller bedrooms, which was what you preferred. You didn’t want to have any distance from your husband. Be it physical or emotional.

The backyard was most spacious. You could probably fit a beautiful gazebo there. But you planned on growing your own vegetables and make delicious meals as a thank you to Andy everyday for the rest of your lives. You had put your heart into decorating every single nook and cranny of the house. Having it be appreciated was most flattering.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Your husband is so handsome,” she observed and you only hummed as you looked over at him. He most definitely was. “And he helped you with cooking and setting up.”

“Yes, he did. He always helps. He isn’t one for parties but he indulged me by letting me throw this one,” you told her.

Andy wasn’t that enthusiastic about hosting a barbeque for neighbors who were basically still strangers for your anniversary/valentines. He preferred to have you to himself but with some kisses and cuddles, batting your brand-new eyelash extensions, and convincing he finally gave in.

“Mrs Barber,” Linda grinned, putting her hand on your elbow, “You’re drooling.”

“Oh, I am?” you quickly looked over at her, after admiring how perfect your husband’s ass looked in those damn jeans.

“That’s alright, I promise I won’t tell,” she winked, “you’re both so cute.”

You were gushing some more about Andy, how amazing he was and how the honeymoon phase never seemed to end for you both. But you straightened up when you saw him approaching you.

“Honey,” he said, “We’re out of ice.”

“Oh, I thought we had enough... I’m sure we could do without it,” you shrugged.

Andy snaked a hand around your waist, sipping on his beer as he looked down at you, so much more comfortable by your side. He frowned when he heard the guys calling for him, reluctant to leave your side but you nudged him and told him to go socialise.

“I’ll make it worth your while, later tonight,” you whispered to him.

He pressed his lips to your temple, the scratch of his beard against your skin making you gasp. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said against your face which was heating up by his uncharacteristic public display of affection.

After cleaning up you were finally getting ready for bed. Wiping your make up before taking your diamond studs off.

“We made so many friends too,” you wondered out loud. “It was a success in my book! I hope I was a good hostess.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you were. Come here now.” You saw him in your dressing tables mirror, extending an arm to you and inviting you to him.

“Um, well, maybe give me a moment,” you stammered, heat creeping up your neck as you scurried off to the bathroom while he called out for you.

He frowned, you never had any problem changing clothes in front of him or being naked and in so many compromising positions before him, so why now?

“Honey, I appreciate this, I really do, but.. maybe we can just do something else,” he told you, holding onto your hand which was massaging his shoulder and kissing your knuckles. He thought it was nice of you to offer a back rub, after the day he had had he needed it, but he wanted something more than that... “I’m hungry,” he licked his lips.

“I can cook something up for you, a post-dinner snack maybe,” you offered.

“No baby,” he chuckled, “Hungry for YOU.”

He kissed the crook of your neck, sucking on a spot he knew drove you wild but then frowned when he didn’t get the reaction he desired from you, in fact you felt a little... stiff.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he looked into your eyes.

“I was actually wondering if we could try something new...”

“Like what?” he pouted. He was a bit concerned, whenever you both had tried something new, it didn’t really go well.

There was that time you slipped and sprained your ankle during a very taxing session in the shower, when you surprised him at his office but then you were caught by his assistant—to this day he still can’t look her in the eye, when you insisted on tying him up but he ended up breaking free of the cuffs and spending the night ravaging you instead.

His unenthusiastic response was clearly not what you wanted as you blinked, disappointed evident on your face, “Nothing,” you shook your head, “now, where were we?” a salacious grin on your lips.

He hadn’t really tried to press on to see what your new suggestion was. He knew he wasn’t the most interesting man in the world. He wasn’t always as easy going as you were. How he even managed to get someone like you was something he could never comprehend.

“Are you ready for your surprise, baby,” came your voice from the master bathroom, “Here I come.”

You twirled before him, showing off your brand new fiery red babydoll. Which cost a pretty penny since it was the season of love.

“Whoa, you look gorgeous... what did I ever do to deserve you...” he wondered as his gaze raked you over.

“It’s actually the other way around,” you waved him off, climbing on the bed, “It’s time for your gift, Mr Barber.”

You took the book he was reading from his hands, setting it beside him and he hummed as you kissed his cheek.

“Actually...” he held onto the curve of your hips, squeezing just a little bit.

“Hm?”

“I have a surprise for you, sweetheart.”

That got your attention. You pulled away from his face, your soft lips still tingling from the coarseness of the hair on his face. “Oh?” Your heart fluttering in excitement. “You didn’t have to. You already bought us a home...” You said in a small voice, your fingers playing with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Oh, believe me, honey, it’s not just for you,” he smirked.

You watched, your fingers drumming along your bare thigh in anticipation as he went through his dresser.

“Since you want to try new things,” he said with his back to you, pulling something out of the dresser, “I figured this might be the perfect opportunity.”

You gasped when you saw, what looked like was a red silk tie and a dark blindfold.

“Wow.” Was all you could say. You had tried to get Andy to watch fifty shades with you and while he didn’t really say it, you knew that he wasn’t really into the movie or the kinky sex. He could barely stay down when you used cute pink fluffy handcuffs on him.

“I hope you can be a good girl for me,” his eyes dark as he stalked towards you, “and stay still. You never do... I always have to hold you down so this should make things easier... hands,” he commanded, his authoritative tone leaving no room for disobedience, as you held your hands out for him, gulping a lump of air and watching his hands tie an intricate knot around your wrists.

“It’s soft...” You wiggled your wrists testing the ties strength.

“Of course it is, I want you to be comfortable, princess,” he kissed your forehead, smoothing a hand over your scalp, he looked at the blindfold and then at you, “It’ll be kinda hard for me to not look into your eyes,” his brow furrowed as he put the blindfold over your head, the elastic stretching and then settling behind your ears till you all you could see was black, “Let me know if you need me to stop... or if you need anything.”

“Yes,” you nodded, pouting when you heard him pulling his tshirt off. You were so excited about the dirty sex that you didn’t even think about this--not being able to see Andy naked. You were about to whine about it but he pushed you back till you were lying on the mattress.

“This is all so exciting...” you whispered, having no idea what he was doing or was about to do, if he was looking at you or elsewhere.

“I know, honey, now you just let me take care of you.” You nodded, shivering when you felt the coolness of his wedding band against your thigh, “Sorry baby, are my hands cold?”

“Just a bit...”

You heard him rubbing them together to heat them up for you, before he touched your inner thigh, parting your thighs to make room for him, he pushed your nightie up, exposing your breasts and stiff peaks to him, “So beautiful... and all for me.”

“All for you, Andy,” you tried to close your legs to rub them together, to create some friction to calm the heat between your legs but his hold on you wouldn’t leave you any room to move.

“You need something, honey? You’ll have to use your words to tell me.”

You huffed, although you couldn’t see him you just knew he had a shit eating grin on his face. “Want you to make love to me, Andy,” you fessed up anyway.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing though. This is how I make love, honey,” you gasped as you felt his warm mouth latching on your nipple, his leaking manhood on your thigh.

“Oh...” you tried to arch your back, to pushed more of you into him.

He released your nipple with a pop, “You like that?”

He had never seen you like this, never knew he wanted you like this--so helpless and completely at his mercy. Writhing under him and craving him so badly, snaking a hand between your legs, “You’re so wet, honey,” he observed as he spread your slick around your lips, pulling a desperate whimper from you.

He sucked his fingers clean, you tasted so sweet, like honey.

He pinned your tied hands above your head when you tried to raise them to touch him, “No baby, you know the rules for tonight. I thought you wanted to be my good girl.”

“I do!” you whimpered again, your body shaking and writhing in his hold.

His poor girl, he knew how hard it must be for you. How you were obsessed with his beard. Sometimes He wondered if you loved it more than you loved him. He hadn’t shaved it off since he had met you.

“Then stay still, and you will be rewarded,” he promised you, pushing a finger inside you as he rubbed his beard against your sensitive nipples which seemed to set you off.

“Oh god,” you shrieked but didn’t dare move your arms.

He trailed kisses down your stomach, on your belly button, before settling between your legs and staring at your bare, glistening cunt.

“All this for me?” he wondered again, he didn’t need for you to answer, you were tied up and presented before him, just for him to feast on however he pleased. He sloppily licked as much of your juices as he could.

“All for you...” you shuddered as he rubbed his beard against the skin of your thigh.

Temporarily losing your vision seemed to have heightened everything, was it always so intense when his calloused fingers touched you? When he pushed three of his fingers inside you while whispering the dirtiest things in the world in your ear, rubbing his beard into the crook of your neck till you came around his fingers.

You were still dizzy from your high, you hissed out his name when he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving your cunt so void and empty.

You didn’t have the opportunity to tell him just how amazing that was, “You ready, babe?” You heard him ask as you nodded, his leaking tip against your opening.

He pushed into you, slowly and steadily to draw it out, he always liked taking his time, a woman like you deserved to be treated right. He hovered over you, staring at your face, your sparkling eyes covered by the blindfold, your bottom lip between your teeth, he pulled it out of your mouth with his thumb

“Don’t want you hurting yourself, honey,” he tutted, shaking his head as be sucked on your bruised bottom lip, fully sheathing himself inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, hooking them behind his back, he was so big - the biggest you had ever had and yet it was never enough. Your cunt was greedy. You needed him deep, as deep as he could go. Exploring parts of you no one had seen or touched before. Only he ever would.

His hand circling your hips to pull you up against him as he rocked his hips against yours, “You’re so tight... squeezing me so tight,” he groaned. “You wanna come for me?” He whispered in your ear before nibbling on your earlobe.

“Yes,” you furiously nodded, your orgasm washing over you, dark spots in your vision as you felt your limbs loosen up.

“Hang on for me,” he warned you, holding onto the headboard as he chased his own end.

You sighed, hooking your tied-up hands around his neck as you felt his warm spend fill you up.

“Feels nice,” you mumbled, nuzzling his beard.

He hushed when you whined like the needy little thing that you were as he pulled out of you, untying your bound wrists.

He dimmed the lights before removing your blindfold, “There she is,” he smiled, kissing your temple as you rubbed your eyes. “Did you have fun, honey?” he held onto your chin as he made you turn your head to him, so that he could look into your eyes.

“Mm-hm. We should do this again sometime,” you yawned. You were better at being tied up than him anyway.

“We will. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy Valentine’s.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelentinesday2021 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber #andy barber fan fiction #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,” Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand. Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!” Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.” Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

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cafffine · 3 years

Text

Hey guys, I’ve decided to stop publishing Saltcoats for a number of reasons. I'm aware that many of you are going to initially be let down or confused, but hopefully once you’ve read through this post you’ll understand why this had to stop. I’ll try to hit all my points, but of course if you have any questions pls feel free to dm me or reply to this post.

DISCLAIMER: Ending this fic was a decision I came to by myself! No one asked me to do this, though many did help, and if you have something to add please do not bring other tumblr or ao3 users into the conversation unless they’ve explicitly said they’re ok with that. It’s a draining and heavy topic (not to me, but for those affected) and I don’t want to cause anymore unneeded distress.

Also, I’m the only author, all the problems with this story were created by me, and were biases I should have recognized and acted on much sooner. I’m very thankful to all the people that have reached out to me about the negative impacts on this fic, but it really does come down to: I wrote and published a story that was fundamentally ignorant of its setting and racist. So now I have to do my part to apologize and educate myself/take accountability.

First off, this was a flawed concept to begin with because I was trying to do a low fantasy setting with aliens in period clothes and a work of historical fiction at the same time, and those are not things you can go halfway on.

Historical fiction that centers around people of color has a long history of simply going race-blind and faking diversity by giving poc the roles of white people in Eurocentric stories and erasing their identities. (This article about Bridgerton explains the problem better than I could.) And it was something I tried to avoid by still having the Fetts written as immigrants from Aotearoa (NZ), but completely missed the execution on because I didn’t commit to full historical accuracy in all characters and aspects of the story. Meaning, I might as well have gone race-blind because you can’t pick and choose what to include, it’s just as racist.

This creates situations like the Fetts being immigrants facing real life oppression while the Organas, also people of color, are unaffected by the social climate and living as members of the British upper class. That’s not accurate to any version of history and ends up wiping clean any point I was trying to make about race and oppression. That also extends beyond the Fetts, I was not addressing how the american characters come from a country that still allows for the ownership of slaves, the British oppression of Scottish people and their culture, or even an in-depth look at real Queer communities of that era. (and more)

Given the real life historical climate in the 1850s, a multi-racial story like this one is not successful, and is racist in its ignorance of the struggles of poc, immigrants, and the intersectionality that had with class and crime.

In addition, the Fetts being written as criminals, even if it is framed as a morally correct choice*, is still playing into negative racial stereotypes that shouldn’t have been ignored.

* I should add, I don’t mean to make it sound like i’m creating excuses for myself when I give explanations for some of these choices such as “but it was framed as morally correct”, that doesn’t lessen the damage being done, it’s still racist, I guess I'm just trying to show why so many of these things went overlooked for as long as they did, and how easy it is for white/privileged people to find mental loopholes around racism when you’re not being sufficiently critical of yourself.

On another note, the Fetts being indigenous immigrants to Britain in the 1800s is not something I should have tried to tackle in fanfiction - a medium that often lacks nuance and can easily end up romanticizing or glossing over most heavy topics. This goes for period typical homophobia, addiction, and class struggles as well.

That being said! I’m not implying that any of those things should be completely ignored in fanfiction. Addiction, for example, is something very close to me that I do still want to explore in fanfic for the purposes of education and normalization, I’m not telling anyone what not to write, just checking myself. Because in a story like this where literally everything is so heavily dramatized and also applied to characters of color by me, a white person? It’s only going to end up being out of place, lacking in historical accuracy, and wholly disrespectful.

Another major problem I wanted to address is the relationship between a rich white person and a poverty stricken poc. That's a bad stereotype to begin with, but then I tried and failed to frame Obi-Wan as ignorant and biased to a point where his social status plays into the theme of class critique. But, if he’s still being written as Cody’s love interest, all his negative characteristics are ultimately going to be ignored and excused by the narrative (by me).

I’m not trying to end this conversation, I’ll always be willing to talk about this to anyone who’d want to say/hear more, but I don’t want run the point into the ground with over-explanation.

So, in conclusion, this fic had to stop and be broken down into the problem that it was. All white authors who write for the clones need to be hyper-vigilant about the fact that we are creating narratives for poc, and that our inherent racism is always in threat of being baked into in the stories we publish and spread to an audience. I was in the wrong when I wrote this story, and it should never have gone on for this long. I apologize for both my actions, and to anyone I may have hurt along the way.

This is getting posted on ao3 in the fic, and then, for now anyway, the fic is going to be deleted after a week. I’ll leave this post up and answer everyone unless it's someone trying to change my mind. Also, if I ignore an ask please send it again, tumblr might just have deleted it. I don’t want to try and bury this or run from my mistakes, I just don’t think that leaving the fic up where it can still find an audience will do anyone any good. Thank you for reading

If you're interested here's some resources I've been using to educate myself further:

What caused the New Zealand Wars? - An excerpt of the book by Vincent O'Malley of the same title. It gives a good summary of the violent colonization and oppression of Māori people and their culture by the British empire.

NZ Wars: Stories of Waitara (video) - Very educational documentary about the NZ wars and British colonialism. There are some historical recreations that get violent so pls watch with caution.

Historical American Fiction without the Racism - Tumblr post by @/writingwithcolor that talks specifically about Black people in the 1920's, but makes a good point about race and historical fiction in general. I'd recommend any post from this blog, especially their navigation page just a lot of great resources

Who Gave You the Right to Tell That Story? - An article about writing outside of your race that includes a diverse series of testimonials

History of Scottish Independence - Details the colonization of Scotland by the British empire, sort of long, can cntrl + f to "The Acts of Union" for a more direct explanation.

The best books on Racism and How to Write History - A list of well written and diverse works of historical fiction and why they are good examples of representation

I have a lot more that I can share if you're interested (x x x x) but this post is getting a bit too long.

#I proofread this a lot but I'm sure there's problems with this post too #If anyone has something they want me to change or of theres anything I said that was offensive I'd appreciaite any help fixing it #but also I'll be rereading this all night and it will likely change before I put it on ao3 #saltcoats #racism

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boku-no-obsessedwiththisshow · 3 years

Text

red on red, nothing on everything - world maps

Hello hello! Welcome to the first reveal of the world of red on red, nothing on everything, my ongoing Kacchako A/B/O fantasy fanfiction. Last chapter, I asked readers if they wanted a map of the world to help visualize things, and one (1) whole person said yes, which was all the excuse I needed to clean up my already half-made maps and post ‘em.

If you’re not reading the fic, none of what’s below will make sense. But if you’re sticking around for shits and giggles anyway, all the better - hope you enjoy! ;)

I conceptualized the world long before I made any drawings, but I have little artistic skill so I wanted a software or online tool that could make really detailed, highly customizable maps. I found and used this really cool fantasy map generator for the base; it’s probably the most complicated, but also the most effective, worldbuilding tool I’ve ever come across; and while it’s not perfect, it has some really powerful functionality especially for the physical characteristics of maps. In addition, for my own clarity I added modifications, including the colouring and political delineations of the different regions, in FireAlpaca on my own by working on top of the baseline from the map generator.

PLEASE CLICK THE PICTURES FOR BETTER QUALITY.

Map #1 - Big Picture, “The Land”

This world of this story does not have a name (at least not yet; I’m not sure it ever will). There are different regions that have been referred to in the story. Clans, essentially noble families, have settled down and split the territories by grouping themselves according to bloodlines. There are multiple clans within a given bloodline region; some are made up of fewer, like Lightning, while others, like Dawn, have numerous clans. The current regions of the world include: Fire, Ice, Wind, Dawn, Stone, Lightning Dust, and Twilight Bloodlines.

Black lines indicate bloodline borders; dark grey lines indicate a current clan border; light grey lines indicate former clan borders (for clans that do not exist at present); finally, red lines indicate the current borders of No Man’s Land, the disputed region in which outlaws and bandits thrive.

No Man’s Land stretches all the way from the north to the south, and forms the border region between the two groupings of allies in this world: Dust, led by King Shigaraki, allied with Lightning, Twilight, and Stone; and Fire, led by Todoroki Clan, (much more loosely) allied with Ice, Wind, and as of the current story moment, potentially Dawn.

The scale in the bottom indicates what two hundred miles is like on the map, but to be quite honest I might have changed this in the meantime and I’m really not sure if it’s accurate anymore.

I’ve been approximating The Land as a whole to be about the same size as the US state of Texas.

Now, zooming in somewhat where the action takes place.

Map #2 - Major Clans

These are all of the clans that have so far been named in the story. From west to east:

Fire - Todoroki Clan; Dawn - Utsushimi, Jirou, Yamada, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu Clans; Lightning - Kaminari, Tesura Clans; Stone - Kirishima, Imasuji Clans; Dust - Shigaraki Clan.

(Not Pictured is Twilight - Chisaki Clan; but it is visible in the first map in dark purple in the south-east, next to its allies in lilac).

Capital letters indicate that that clan is the Master Clan of that particular bloodline. These clans are considered the most powerful and important, and act as leaders (or in worse cases, controllers) for the rest. At the moment, Todoroki Clan is the Master Clan of the Fire Bloodline; Kaminari Clan for Lightning; Imasuji Clan for Stone; and Shigaraki Clan for dust. (Chisaki Clan for Twilight, but it doesn’t fit on this map). Dawn is a splintered region and has no clear Master Clan.

Getting a bit closer, we can also see that No Man’s Land eats much more into the territory of Shigaraki-allied regions than it does into the territory of his enemies. Lightning and Stone in particular have large swathes of disputed territory.

Next, looking at the relief.

Map #3 - Major Locations and Natural Features

Starting with the major locations, we can find the cities/towns that have so far been named in the story.

Starting in the west: Musutafu, the capital and seat of power of Todoroki Clan, the location of Castle Endeavour; Aichi, the largest city in Jirou Clan; Rozaryu, the largest city in Uraraka Clan; Shizuoka, the largest city in Yaoyorozu Clan. The Midoriya home sits on the border between Yaoyorozu and Uraraka Clans, and neither really knows to which the cottage belongs. Esuha is the largest city and capital of Kirishima Clan; Gunga is this for Kaminari Clan. Kamino (now destroyed), the city where the Bakugou Summer Estate was located. Deika, the capital and seat of power of Shigaraki Clan, where King Shigaraki and his Blackwitch reside in their castle.

Datsugoku is the capital of Imasuji Clan. It has been referred to in the story, but has not been named (you get a freebie if you’re reading this). The name is literally just Japanese for Muscular’s second villain name (Jailbreaker); I picked it because the man has no named notable locations associated with him and I got a little desperate. Plus it sounds kind of cool. Pretend it doesn’t mean anything in the context of the story lol.

In addition to these major cities, on the map we can see the shitty town in the south of Dawn where Katsuki and his pack first spy the undercover caravan that they end up ambushing in Chapter 1. It is located in Yamada Clan, and as mentioned in the most recent chapter (7), it is where Hawks intercepted Aizawa as well. We can also see the seedy town in Tesura Clan that was mentioned in Chapter 6; this is where Dabi missed a contract, but ended up having a wonderful evening with a barmaid and bartender who skipped out on their work to get in his pants.

The mountains are also labelled on the map. Yes, all of these names are taken from canon DnD material. They sound cool and that’s all that matters.

The majority of our action so far takes place in the Storm Horns, which curve around in Lightning territory. The three overpasses are also labelled; the eastern and western ones are well-known, while the central is not. In addition to these, several other mountain ranges are mentioned in the most recent chapter. In the far north we have the Spine of the World. Both that range and the Sword Mountains in Stone extend beyond what is visible on the map. The Star Mounts are also present in the mid-eastern region of Dust, and the Greypeaks and Cloud Peaks are in the south, going through Lightning, part of Dust, and Twilight.

Finally, I thought it might be useful to take a look at where the characters have moved thus far.

Map #4 - Major Locations and Character Movement

I’ve split this into different sections, as labelled on the map. It might be a bit hard to see, but click for better quality.

Part 1 (white) - Ochaco travels from Rozaryu to Musutafu for her wedding to Shouto, a trip of just over 200 miles, escorted by Aizawa and a caravan of Todoroki Clan fighters. She passes through Aichi (Jirou Clan) and several other Dawn Clans.

Part 2 (red) - The Todoroki caravan is intercepted around the halfway point with a night ambush by Shigaraki fighters. Ochaco is taken. They swing south and end up in the shitty town in the south of Dawn (Yamada Clan), where katsuki and his pack spot them. This is roughly 130 miles.

Part 3 (red and white) - Katsuki and his pack move ahead on the road, crossing into Lightning Territory (Kaminari Clan) to set up an ambush for the Shigaraki caravan. It’s about 30 miles of travel, which is also traversed shortly after by the Shigaraki caravan itself. The ambush goes well, they take the caravan, and move.

Part 4 (white) - Katsuki and the pack discover Ochaco in the caravan. They decide to move up the mountains for added safety, stopping halfway up the Storm Horns. This is roughly another 30 miles, part of which is mountainous ascent. They interrogate Ochaco, and at that point Imasuji Gouto and his warriors attack.

Part 5 (dashed red) - After surviving the attack and spending some time separated on the mountainside, Katsuki and Ochaco meet and agree to travel together to follow the pack. Katsuki proposes they take the central overpass, move very quickly and cut the pack off on the road they will take back to Datsugoku (labeled as Planned Ambush). This would be approximately 60 miles.

Part 6 (dashed cyan) - The path Katsuki deduces Imasuji will take. Imasuji will double back, take the eastern overpass, and head straight north to Datsugoku, allowing Katsuki and Ochaco to ambush them on the way if all goes according to plan.

Of course, all does not go according to plan.

And that’s it! I had a lot of fun worldbuilding for this story, almost as much as doing the actual writing, and I’m glad I got to share even a part of it with you guys. My ask box is always open to answer any questions about it!

And of course (ha!), you can find red on red, nothing on everything right here on AO3.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! :)

#my writing #nothing on everything tag #kacchako #kacchako a/b/o #kacchako fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #bnha

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thebonerpit · 3 years

Text

suck it and see [FIC]

suck it and see

Rom Howney, 2749 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

Robert invites Tom over for dinner. Has his gag reflex improved? (Not me writing a sequel to this fic almost a year later...)

Five months later, and Tom is wondering what the fuck he’s gotten himself into.

After “The Call”, as he’s been referring to it, Robert has been nothing but sweet and courteous and respectful. Once the post-orgasm adrenaline faded, Tom hasn’t been able to drum up the courage to talk about what happened between them and Robert never brings it up explicitly either. It’s been months of brief text threads during quiet moments, the odd video of Robert’s cats or a photo of the sunset, and Tom getting embarrassingly hard whenever Robert says something remotely flirty. Nothing at all that suggests it might ever happen again. That is, until Tom mentions he’s going to be in L.A. for a week.

“Come see me. I’ll make you dinner.”

“YOU’LL make me dinner? Or your private chef will make me dinner?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me you little shit. Tuesday work for you?”

It doesn’t, but Tom rearranges his entire schedule to get there.

The black jeans he’s chosen are practically painted on, but in an effort to appear completely casual and unbothered he throws on a soft pastel pink hoodie and a baseball cap. No need to mention how long he takes in the shower beforehand. No need at all.

The Uber drops him off and he notes that there are no other cars to be seen, and very few lights on in the house. He didn’t even consider that they might actually be alone and now that it’s hitting him he kind of feels like throwing up. Before he can scope out the best bush to heave into, the door opens.

“I know my front yard is pretty amazing but are you going to stand out here all night?”

Oddly enough, seeing him in person, leaning against the door frame with a dish towel in one hand, Robert Downey Jr. in the flesh, actually calms him down. His brain reroutes from panic to excitement and he rushes forward to give him a tight hug, which Robert gladly returns.

“Good to see you,” he says quietly, almost directly into Tom’s ear. The closeness makes him shiver slightly but he manages to cover it with another tight squeeze before rocking back on his heels.

“Same, boss,” he says with a broad smile. Robert cocks his head and smiles back fondly before patting his cheek and stepping back into the foyer.

“Come on, it’s almost ready.”

“Are you really cooking for me?”

“Of course,” he says, like he’s offended Tom is even asking.

It smells incredible, whatever it is, and Tom removes his hat, happily perches on a bar stool, and accepts the beer Robert hands him. They chat amiably while Robert cooks, and soon Tom forgets why he was ever nervous in the first place. It’s just like how it was on set, or backstage at some industry event, joking and laughing and catching each other up on their respective lives. One of the cats jumps up and kneads at Tom’s lap for a while before padding away to search for its own dinner.

Domestic, Tom thinks briefly, before shooing that horrible thought away.

Dinner is pasta with homemade sauce and Tom devours it.

Robert raises an eyebrow as he slurps up his last noodle and Tom sheepishly hides behind his napkin as he tries to wipe off the spattering of red sauce on his cheek.

“S’really good,” he mutters, and Robert just laughs.

He helps him clean up, despite Robert’s protests. He sets the last pot on the rack to dry and turns to see Robert staring at him, a contemplative expression on his gorgeous face.

“What? More pasta sauce?” Tom asks, swiping at the corner of his lips with one thumb.

“Nah. Just looking.”

“Oh. Ok?”

Robert smirks and saunters over and Tom feels his back hit the fridge. Trapped. Nowhere to go.

“This is cute,” Robert says, tugging at the string of Tom’s hoodie. “Suits you.”

“Uh. Thanks,” Tom replies dumbly, unable to look away from Robert’s mouth. He barely catches the way Robert’s eyes flick up to his own before he looks away and exhales softly. It’s a sound of resignation, and Tom’s heart speeds up to a panicked flutter. As soon as Robert starts to back away, he snakes his arm out and grasps on to his wrist. It shocks them both and they can’t do anything but stare at each other for a moment before Tom finally caves and lets himself think with his dick.

He opens his mouth, extends his tongue slightly, and waits.

Robert’s eyes are dark, the gorgeous honey-brown devoured by his pupils, and Tom sees him swallow. He does his best to encourage him, to beg without saying a word, but when Robert still hesitates, he slowly drags his hand up to hover between them. Then he lets go of Robert’s wrist. It’s on him now, and he looks very much aware of this fact.

“You sure?” he finally rasps out. Always the gentleman, even when Tom doesn’t want him to be. He nods and sticks out his tongue even more, his eyes almost crossing at he stares at Robert’s thick fingers just inches away from his mouth.

“Have you been thinking about this?” he asks. Tom nods again and shivers as those fingers run the length of his jaw. “Yeah. Me too.”

Without warning he pushes two fingers into Tom’s mouth, dragging them across his tongue and settling them just past the second knuckle. Tom whines and starts to close his lips around them but Robert’s other hand darts up quickly to grab his chin.

“Ah-ah,” he tuts. “Did I say you could do that?”

The blood that rushes immediately downwards nearly makes Tom pass out.

Robert pets his tongue until Tom’s mouth overflows with saliva and it starts dripping down his chin and on to his hoodie.

“Such a messy boy,” Robert says. Tom gurgles out a moan which makes Robert tighten his grip on his jaw. “On your knees.”

Tom drops so fast he feels his knees crack against the marble tile. It hurts but he doesn’t even care. All he can feel is his dick hard against the zipper of his jeans and Robert’s fingers dragging through his hair.

“So pretty,” he murmurs as he lets his fingers slip out of Tom’s mouth.

Tom tries to lean in, close the distance between his mouth and the growing bulge in Robert’s jeans, but he feels those fingers tighten in his hair. He glances up and sees Robert staring down at him with an expression not dissimilar to the one he had months ago on their video call.

“If you want to stop, all you have to do is say the word.” Robert’s voice is quiet but steady. “Or pinch me really hard if your mouth is… otherwise occupied.”

Tom shudders at the implications of that.

“I need to hear you say you understand.”

“I do! I… I understand. Want this, want you, everything… anything you want,” Tom says, tripping over his words in his haste to reassure him because he thinks if Robert stops now he might actually cry.

Robert exhales sharply through his nose. “Jesus… fucking… alright. Ok. Get up, follow me.”

Tom scrambles up off the floor and follows Robert as he leads him through into what looks like a den. It’s dimly lit, thick curtains pulled closed on the windows, and the walls are lined with bookshelves. Robert pulls him down on to a plush couch and takes his jaw in his hand again, licking his lips before diving in for a searing kiss, and Tom allows himself to be devoured. He suddenly realizes that this is actually their first kiss, but before he can dwell on it too long Robert pulls back and, as gently as possible, pushes him down to the floor between his knees.

“I hope you’ve been practicing more,” Robert says as he undoes his jeans. “Show me what you can do.”

As soon as the fabric of Robert’s boxers is out of the way, Tom doesn’t hesitate. He’s been waiting for this for months and the sight of that gorgeous cock in front of him makes his mouth water. He takes the head in his mouth without preamble and the low groan that Robert lets out spurs him on to take even more. It’s a bit messy, saliva already dripping out the sides of his mouth, but if the noises Robert is making are any indication, he’s doing a pretty damn good job regardless. He feels those thick fingers curl back into his hair and only has a moment to steel himself before Robert’s hips snap up and he chokes, eyes watering immediately as the thick cock tries to force its way down his throat. He tries to relax but it doesn’t work and he has to pull away, coughing and wiping at his chin.

“S-sorry, let me… I can—”

“Shh, no, you were doing well. I shouldn’t have… couldn’t help myself.”

Fuck, he sounds wrecked already. Pride bubbles up in Tom’s stomach and he dares to look up and offer a small smile, batting his eyelashes just a little.

“Want to keep going,” he says, “please?”

Robert bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before shifting on the couch.

“Come up here, let me… here, just like this.” He pulls Tom up like he weighs nothing, arranges him on the couch so he’s laying on his back with his head hanging off the edge.

“It’s easier like this, sweet thing,” Robert says as he stands over him. “Opens your throat up. Do you trust me?”

“God, yes,” Tom breathes out. He knows he should behave and wait for instructions but he can’t help surging up to lick at the base of Robert’s cock, hanging heavy over his face. It makes him shudder and Tom feels a drop of precome fall on his cheek.

He sees Robert shudder and gets a gentle slap across his face as a reward.

“Brat,” he rasps out before shoving his cock down Tom’s throat.

The angle is so strange and Tom’s eyes widen with panic before he realizes that yeah, it actually is easier like this? Once you get used to the whole upside-down part. He trusts Robert to hold his head as he relaxes his muscles, letting his throat go slack and just accepting every thick inch he gets.

There’s a bitten-out curse as Tom feels his nose press against Robert’s balls.

“Give me—fuck, your hand,” Robert says. He obeys, immediately, and Robert brings it up to wrap around Tom’s own throat. “Can you feel it?”

Tom nearly shoots off right then and there as Robert moves and oh my fucking god yes he can feel it. The thick line of Robert’s cock is stretching his throat out and he gurgles out a moan around it which makes it twitch against his hand.

“Such a pretty little cocksucker,” he grunts. Tom bucks his hips into the air, desperate for friction, Robert’s dirty words turning him on more than he could have ever imagined.

“Look at you… you want to touch yourself, hm?”

Tom can’t answer so he just whines and wiggles his hips again which causes Robert to grunt and jerk forward which in turn causes Tom to choke and gag again. Robert immediately pulls out and pets the side of Tom’s head while he inhales shakily, catching his breath.

“Ok?” he asks, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s swollen bottom lip.

“Yeah… ok.” Tom is shocked by the sound of his own voice, raw and scratchy and thick. Thank fucking god he doesn’t have to work for the next little while. “More?”

Robert chuckles and leans down to kiss along the side of his neck. “Want to see you come with my dick down your throat. Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck… fuck, yeah, yeah I can do that.” He scrabbles at the buttons and zippers on his jeans and shoves them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. His hoodie is already a mess, covered in his own spit, but he pulls it up his chest anyway. If this also happens to show off his cut abs and pink nipples, well, it’s just a bonus. He hears Robert groan softly and then suddenly his field of vision is eclipsed by a furred stomach as Robert leans over him to kiss at his chest, his hipbones, and fuck, Robert’s mouth is on his dick.

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, digging his nails into the fabric of the couch as an incredibly skilled tongue laves up and down his erection. He can feel the bristle of Robert’s beard on his thighs and it sends electric shivers through his body.

“Tastes so good,” Robert murmurs, licking up one side and then sucking on the head briefly before letting Tom’s cock fall back against his stomach with a loud slap. Tom whimpers – actually whimpers – as Robert pushes himself back upright and he can see the cocky smirk on his face even from this strange angle.

“There, made it nice and wet for you. Go on sweetheart, show me how pretty you look when you come, hm?”

Tom doesn’t have time to answer as Robert slides his cock back into his throat. The sensation of that alone makes his eyes roll back in his head but now that he has permission to touch himself, he doesn’t hesitate. The slickness from Robert’s saliva eases the way for his own hand as he jerks himself off quickly, no patience for finesse or teasing, just pure need racing through his veins. He gets close embarrassingly fast, partly thanks to the steady stream of filth that Robert is muttering above him.

“That’s it, just like that baby, so fucking pretty aren’t you? You like having a nice fat dick down your throat, hm? Yeah, I know you do, look at you, just made for it, fuck, yeah, keep touching yourself, keep jerking that pretty cock sweetheart, make a mess of yourself for me, come on, come on, let me see you…”

It’s relentless and Tom can’t get enough. He doesn’t want it to end, quite frankly, but he’s teetering right on the edge and when Robert simultaneously shoves himself as deep as he can go and squeezes a hand around his throat he jerks violently and comes all over himself. It’s the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had and his body feels like it will never stop convulsing. It’s only when he finally relaxes enough to try to catch his breath that he realizes that he can’t actually breathe at all. Robert is still buried deep in his throat, grinding his hips against his face like Tom is just a warm, wet hole to be used. It sends a brief flutter of panic through him, but it also makes his spent cock twitch against his stomach. Robert is grunting and Tom feels drops of sweat landing on his chest, mixing with the cooling puddles of come. He must be close. He has to be. He needs to be or Tom is going to actually pass out.

He’s just about to raise his hand to pinch Robert’s thigh when he feels a rush of warmth slide down his throat. It’s so deep he can’t even taste it until Robert pulls out and lets the rest drip all over his mouth and face. As Tom gasps for breath Robert maneuvers him into a sitting position and rubs at his back, soothing him as he coughs and sniffles and wipes at the absolute mess on his face with his ruined hoodie. When he finally settles a bit he can hear Robert murmuring to him.

“Such a good boy… such a good boy, sweetheart, you did so well, that’s it, deep breaths…”

Tom sniffles again and blinks up at Robert’s face. He smiles softly.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Feeling ok?”

Tom nods. His throat is killing him but he doesn’t want to make Robert feel bad about it. Plus, he asked for it and he doesn’t know if it makes him a little fucked up in the head for liking it.

“I… I want…”

“Shh, don’t try to talk now. Let me get you some water. You…” Robert pauses. He leans in and kisses Tom’s forehead almost chastely. “You were incredible. Just sit. Let me take care of you.”

Tom smiles again and nestles into the crook of Robert’s neck, sated and content.

#rom howney #marvel rpf #nff #tbpwrites

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carry-the-sky · 3 years

Note

Hi could you do 14. touch on a bruise for brio please?

ahhh thanks for sending this one in!! have some post-s3 angst, hahaha. :)

(also on ao3)

The next time she sees him, he’s bleeding.

Okay, maybe not actively, but the jagged line of stitches etched above his ear looks like it’s seconds away from ripping open. Beth takes in the nasty bruise blooming along his jawline, the cut splitting his bottom lip.

“Um,” she says.

Rio smirks. “What’s up?”

“I—” she sputters, because he’s just standing there with that stupid, smug expression, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to drop by the showroom after hours looking like—that. “You—what happened?”

“Not your division, darlin’.”

He says it lightly enough, but Beth reads the undercurrent of warning in his voice like a neon sign. He wants her to drop it.

Well. She’s not feeling very incentivized to give him what he wants at the moment.

“It is when you bring that”—she pointedly eyes the stitches—“into my showroom. Those look awful, by the way. Did he do them?” She juts her chin toward Mick, who’s lurking in the doorway.

The two men share a look, and Mick folds his arms across his chest. “Maybe I did,” he grumbles. “YouTube’s got tutorials for everythin’.”

Beth glances between them both. She’s about to open her mouth—to say what, she has absolutely no idea—when Mick snorts, shaking his head at the same time that Rio’s mouth twists into a grin.

“Nah,” Rio says, still smiling as he casts a glance back at Mick. “Nah, he didn’t. Your concern’s duly noted, though.”

Mick makes another sound in his throat that he quickly covers by turning it into a cough. Beth’s face flames, but she draws herself up and meets Rio’s gaze head-on. Let him try to get a rise out of her—she knows better than to take that bait.

“Fine. What can I do for you, boss?” she says, spitting out that last word like it’s acid.

Rio’s eyes fall to the floor, but Beth can still see the ghost of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, like he knows he got under her skin. Like he’s won. For one furious second, she imagines how hard she’d have to hit him to split his lip, leave a bruise. She imagines hurting him and liking it.

But she doesn’t really have to, does she? Beth still remembers the weight of his gun in her hand, how the recoil from pumping the trigger once, twice, three times made her hand ache for days afterwards. She remembers him choking on his own blood, the sound of it filling up the loft—

No. No, she hadn’t liked any part of that. It’s a catch twenty-two; she hates him, she wants him dead, gone and out of her life, his name crossed out in permanent ink, but then—sometimes she doesn’t. It’s the not-knowing that keeps her circling the drain, pushing that damn boulder up the hill only to watch it come crashing down again and again.

She thinks she might hate that even more than she hates him.

Beth blinks, coming back to the office. Mick’s staring her down like a hawk, but Rio’s gaze is more appraising, head tilted to the side in a gesture that’s so familiar, so him, it makes her stomach flip.

“Just here for my cut,” he says, as nonchalant as if they’re discussing the weather. She hears the unspoken words as clearly as the night he said them—you, me, we. It’s just business.

Beth holds his gaze a second longer, then tugs a black duffel out from under her desk. She hands it off, dropping the straps like they burned her to avoid brushing her hand against his when he takes it from her. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

“What, no mama bag this time?” he says, then presses his lips together like he’s trying not to grin.

Beth glares at Mick, who just shrugs. She snaps her eyes back to Rio, barely managing to unclench her teeth before asking, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Mick’s gonna check the books.”

Of course he is. Beth isn’t exactly shocked, but it still feels like a slap on the wrist, another reminder that there’s a hierarchy and she’s the furthest thing from sitting on top. Even this, the operation she pieced together herself, the system she built on equal parts desperation and determination—even this isn’t hers.

You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king.

Yeah, she tried that. Technically she’s still trying, but she shoves that thought down deep and ignores the twinge in her chest.

Rio’s already turning to go, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “Next week, yeah?”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, like he’s glad he can pawn her off on someone else because he has better things to do with his time, or maybe the stress and exhaustion from these past few months are finally cracking her foundation—the reason doesn’t really matter. Beth can’t—won’t—let him have the last word.

“You should really get those stitches looked at,” she says.

He pauses, then looks back at her. In the low light, his eyes almost look black.

“I’ve had worse,” he says, and the words hang between them for a moment, heavy as a loaded gun.

Beth swallows. “Still. They could get infected.”

Something slides across Rio’s face, sharp and predatory. It’s the look he gets when he sees an opportunity, and Beth feels her stomach drop.

“Yeah?” he says, turning around so that he’s facing her again. He drops the duffel, and Beth can’t help flinching at the thud it makes when it hits the floor. “Sounds like you’re volunteerin’.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he’s moving, sliding into the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Beth’s eyes dart to Mick, but he just arches an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from the list of sales projections he’s been checking.

Rio leans back in his seat. “A’ight, doc, fix me up.”

Beth stays where she is. The irritation that’s been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since he walked through the door is reaching its boiling point, but there’s something else humming under her skin, crackling like a live wire. He can leave whenever he wants—he was halfway out the door a second ago—but instead he chose to stay.

They’re circling the same drain, each of them waiting to see who will get sucked under first.

“I’ll—get the first aid kit,” Beth says, stepping around the desk only to be stopped in her tracks by Mick, who clears his throat audibly and pulls his jacket back to reveal the Glock tucked against his side.

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? You think I’m stupid enough to try something with both of you here?”

Rio doesn’t answer, just fixes her with an amused look.

“Fine,” Beth snaps, taking a step back. She nods at Mick, tips her head in the direction of the door. “It’s in the bathroom across the hall.”

Mick gives her a two-fingered salute and ducks out of the room, and then it’s just her and Rio.

He’s still—watching her. He looks relaxed enough, legs spread a bit and his hands clasped loosely in front of him, and if Beth didn’t know better, she’d say the expression on his face is almost neutral. But she does know better. His eyes are what give him away, flashing with the same electricity that’s thrumming behind her sternum. He’s waiting for her to make a move. She knows, because she’s doing the same thing.

God, she hates how much she likes this.

She barely registers Mick coming back—it’s only when he tosses the first aid kit onto the desk that she jumps, startled back to herself.

“Thanks,” she says, injecting as much sarcasm as she can into the word.

Mick’s mouth twitches, but he goes straight back to the books, sinking into a chair in the far corner of the office. Beth rolls her own chair around the side of the desk, lowers herself slowly into a seated position beside Rio. This close, she can see each individual color in the whorl-patterned bruise that stretches up toward the hollow of his cheek. She lets her eyes drag across it, then up his temple. The stitches look—well, not great. It’s clear they were done hastily, probably to prevent as much blood loss as possible, but the wound is seeping.

“Damn, that bad, huh?” Rio asks, reading it on her face.

Beth stares down at the kit in front of her. Her first aid knowledge extends about as far as patching up a skinned knees and Benadryl for minor allergic reactions—removing possibly-infected stitches from her crime boss’ head isn’t even in the same zip code.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to do,” she says, abruptly exhausted.

Rio adopts an expression of mock concern that does nothing to ease Beth’s urge to slap him. “Oh, no?” he says. “What part’s trippin’ you up?”

Beth shuts her eyes for a second, briefly wonders why the hell she didn’t let him waltz out of here when she had the chance—except she knows why, and so does he, and when she looks again—

He’s practically beaming, that smug tilt at the corners of his mouth dialed up about a thousand percent, and it’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place. This is just another game—he’s messing with her, playing with his food before eating it.

The low buzz of electricity inside her ignites.

He’s not the only one who’s hungry.

“No, you’re right,” she says, popping open the first aid kit and digging around until she finds the antiseptic wipes. “I should at least clean those stitches up. Maybe even remove them, start fresh.”

She glances up, and that’s the only reason that she sees him falter, a blink-and-miss-it record-scratch behind his eyes before he recovers, slides the mask back on. Satisfaction floods through her. She can play his game.

“Whatever’s good, ma,” he says with a shrug. “You’re the boss, yeah?” He echoes her earlier emphasis on the word, grinning when he sees the barb land. “Shit, that’s my bad—poor choice o’ words.”

Beth rips open a wipe. “This might sting,” she says, pressing against his line of stitches, hard. She’s rewarded with him hissing a breath through his teeth, the hand at his knee balling into a fist.

“Easy, mama,” he grits out.

Beth flashes him her sweetest smile. “I’m sorry, is that too rough? I thought you liked that.”

Mick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Rio looks over, eyes bright with amusement. “Ay, cállate la boca.”

“Didn’t say nothin’,” Mick mumbles, still staring intently at the books.

Beth presses her tongue behind her teeth, swallowing a pinch of annoyance as she switches tactics. “Aren’t crime lords supposed to have, I don’t know, some sort of medical professional on retainer? For situations like this?”

“Nah,” Rio says with a shake of his head. “Why, you gunnin’ for a promotion? ‘Cause I gotta say, your bedside manner could use some work.”

And something inside her roars, because this is how she’s going to get him. She dabs gently at the wound beneath his stitches, swiping a thumb over the sutures. Rio winces, jerks back—

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth leans forward. She brings the antiseptic up to his face again, stops just short of pressing it to his skin, as if to ask, okay?

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth starts at his temple, softly scrubbing at the caked-on blood that’s streaked down from the cut above his ear. Her hand moves lower, fingers gliding over his cheekbones, and she’s not sure if she imagines his breath hitching when she reaches the bruise at his jaw. She drags her thumb across it, then back again. His skin is warm, under the pads of her fingers.

“How am I doing now?” she breathes, barely above a whisper, and she knows she doesn’t imagine him dipping a glance down to her mouth. Their faces are inches apart, close enough for her to count the shades of brown in his eyes. Her fingers trace lower, toward the curve of his lips—

His hand comes up to grasp her wrist, tug it away from his face. “Don’t,” he growls, low like thunder. A warning. “Don’t do that, Elizabeth.”

He’s looking at her again, but she almost doesn’t recognize the emotion swimming in his eyes. He’s—terrified. Of her. For a fleeting second she lets the thrill of it run through her, buoyant on the feeling of power, the feeling that she’s won—

(—she did it, she shot him, she’s free—)

The moment pops like a soap bubble, and she’s empty, hollow, everything good inside of her scooped away until this is what’s left. This is who she is. And maybe this game they’re playing was never meant to have a winner.

The realization leaves her numb.

She’s vaguely aware of Mick slipping the books back onto her desk, and when her eyes flick back up to Rio, his mask is firmly back in place. Steel, untouchable.

“I’m all better now, thanks,” he says, and then he’s pulling away, pushing up from the desk, slipping out the door. She watches his silhouette until it dissolves into shadow.

She’s alone.

#brio #beth x rio #brio fic #nbc good girls #my fic

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redrobinfection · 3 years

Text

Alfred’s Favorite Barbara

Babs & Alfred || Read on Ao3 || Happy Birthday, Barbara Gordon! ❤

<< A sequel to last year’s “Batgirls’ Favorite Mentor”

~*~

Barbara leaned forward and spit out the toothpaste Cass had let her use, on one of the many spare toothbrushes Alfred kept in the guest toiletries stockpile, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh and considered her mostly-put-together-again reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Wow, that had certainly been a party of a night, she mused, ruefully lifting a strand of her sleep-mussed auburn locks before deciding that pulling it back in a bun was really the only dignified solution.

Steph and Cass had kept her up all night--not like that was all that much different from her usual schedule, but mani, pedi, facials, horrible (great) superhero movies, and gossip until dawn had worn her out more than she would have expected. Although, the wine that had snuck into the mix right when the mani-pedis were left to dry and the third movie went in might have had something to do with it, she conceded with a smirk at herself in the mirror. It wasn't a bad sort of tired, she admitted as she tucked few stray hairs into her messy bun, but she was more than ready for a day to rest, recover and recharge.

Just after dawn, Alfred had invaded the sanctum of their home theater encampment to invite them up to the kitchen for a hearty breakfast. There he had laid out toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, juices, teas, coffee, pancakes and even some of the real cake from the night before--a rare breach of protocol from the prim and proper butler that Barbara took as a one-time gesture of affectionate indulgence of their whims--which eventually drew out the other occupants of the house, turning breakfast the morning after into as much of a party as dinner the night before had been.

After that, Alfred had shooed Steph and Cass off to bed and shown Barbara up to her regular guest room where the bed had already been turned down, the pillows fluffed and the blackest of blackout curtains tightly drawn, bless that man. After a few hours of much needed sleep, it was now just past noon, most of the manor's occupants were either still sleeping or out living their daylight personas, and Alfred had offered to drive her back to the Clocktower after she had "freshened up a bit".

Satisfied that she had done as much as she could to make herself decent for the drive of shame, Barbara gathered her things and made her way down the hall to the elevator. Alfred was waiting for her when the doors opened on the civilian garage.

"Ah, Miss Barbara, I take it you're ready to depart?"

"Yes. Thank you for driving me back, Alfred."

"Of course, it's my pleasure."

He led the way toward their several limousines, opened the door to one very special vehicle and began extending and lowering a long ramp. Barbara pressed her lips together to hide a smile as Alfred stepped to one side and let her wheel herself up the shallow incline. He retracted the ramp, closed the door and slid into the driver's seat while she positioned herself in the sleek interior and locked the wheels of her chair.

"Thanks again, Alfred. For everything," Barbara added as they pulled out of the garage. "Last night, this morning...it was all amazing and it must have been so much work--extra work--for you. I really appreciate it."

She saw his eyebrows rise in the rear-view mirror as he replied, "Of course. It was no trouble; I would hardly label hosting a small dinner in honor of and giving accommodations to one of my favorite persons "work". It was a pleasure, Miss Barbara."

She raised an eyebrow in turn. "Oh really? A fairly large dinner, putting up with the mess we all made in the theater afterwards, and putting together a big breakfast in the morning--and driving me back after letting me stay over, even when I'm sure you've got plenty of cleaning up to do? 'Favorite person' huh? If I didn't know better I'd think you were buttering me up for something, Alfred Pennyworth," she teased, sharing a knowing look with him in the mirror.

He didn't laugh out loud, but his eyes twinkled in that way Barbara knew meant he was amused rather than offended. "My word! Is it so hard to believe that an old man would take pleasure in doing what little he could to celebrate the birthday of his favorite Barbara."

Barbara did laugh out loud. "Your favorite...huh! First Jason calls me his favorite, then Tim and Dick, then Steph and Cass... and now you? All of you in less than twenty-four hours? Did you all have a meeting to discuss the topic or am I about to go home to one of the hardest cases of all time and you're all buttering me up to it?"

"I believe the subject had come up recently," Alfred replied evenly. "You do so much for this family and receive so little appreciation..."

"That's my line," Barbara muttered incredulously with a minute shake of her head.

"...and I'll have you know that of all the Barbaras I've had the pleasure of knowing, you most certainly rank supreme."

Barbara huffed a laugh through her nose. "And how many Barbaras is that exactly?"

Alfred met her eyes in the mirror and fixed her with an impressive look. "When you've lived as long as I have, served as long as I have, you come to know a great many people. Among all of those... you are rare soul indeed, Barbara. Surely one to celebrate and to venerate."

That gave her pause. What are you supposed to say to something like that? She didn't know, so she let the silence stretch and turned her gaze to the traffic speeding past her window while her true focus turned to beating down the bloom of color that had flooded her cheeks at Alfred's unexpected pronouncement.

They rode in silence--not an uncomfortable silence, but Barbara still felt the weight of those words still hanging heavy between them--for the rest of the drive. They'd caught the lull between the lunch-hour jam and afternoon rush-hour traffic--likely a strategic choice on Alfred's part--so it only took about twenty minutes to make the trip into the city.

Alfred graciously helped her disembark, escorted her to the ground level door to the tower, and--to her surprise--asked to walk her in, pulling a cooler bag from somewhere with leftovers from the revelries. Barbara invited him in, sending him ahead of her with repeated thanks, but the words of appreciation died in her throat as she rolled over the threshold and took in the interior of her homebase.

She wasn't a slob, per se, but Barbara knew she didn't tidy up around the Tower quite as often as she should, and she cleaned the place even less frequently. It was a lot of real estate for one person--a person with certain mobility issues, at that--and a small army of specially programmed Roombas and some casual dusting here and there could only do so much.

But today, her foyer was spotless. All the coats, umbrellas and other detritus were neatly hung or stacked in their places. The tile was a shade lighter than she remembered and the grout was actually white--she'd actually thought it was tan up until now.

Moving into her apartment showed the same story. Shelves of books and knick-knacks were freshly dusted, the rugs had been deeply vaccuumed, and personal items had been put away or neatly arranged. Every surface gleamed.

She turned to Alfred with an accusing look. "Alfred... did you...?" One look at his quietly pleased expression was answer enough. "When did you even find the time to come over here and do this? Did you clean the whole Tower?" She wouldn't doubt it. She didn't bother to ask him how he got into her super-secure, high-tech lair--this is the ex-MI6 agent who raised Bruce, after all--but given the timeline of events, it shouldn't have been possible for him to clean all this by himself and do everything he did for them while she was at the manor.

"We did, in fact, clean the entire tower--and we took great care not to disturb any of your things in the command center, mind you--but it hardly took any time at all with Masters Damian and Timothy along to help. In fact, we were in and out well before you rose from your nap this morning."

Barbara's eyebrow rose into her hair. Alfred had wrangled Tim and Damian--in the morning, of all times--into cleaning? Together? Without killing each other?

"Wow, Alfred, you got Tim and Damian to work together to do all of this...? At eight in the morning? You're a miracle worker, for sure. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this.

"Really, Alfred...this--" she gestured to rooms around them "--the party, the sleepover, and then breakfast... you've done so much. Thank you. It means a lot to me, but, really, you didn't need to do all this. It's... it’s too much..."

Alfred looked away for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. "Ah, well. Yes. I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard..."

They entered the kitchen and Barbara came to a complete stop. The appliances shone, the stove was spotless, and, for once, the sink was completely free of dishes. But that wasn't what stopped her dead in her tracks.

On the polished kitchen table, laid out elegantly on a freshly washed and pressed table cloth that Barbara had forgotten she even owned, was a handsome tea set in lustrous lavender and gold--one pot, saucers, cups, sugar cellar and creamer. To one side sat a few varieties of Alfred's favorite teas, and on the other a plate piled high with Alfred’s signature tea cakes, one of her favorite things about visiting the manor for pre-patrol briefings or post-patrol debriefings, back in the day. A recipe card stuck out under the plate.

Barbara turned to Alfred, her vision going misty. "Alfred..."

Alfred graced her with a rare smile, beaming down at her, his expression fond, but his voice was quiet, "For when you need a break from Master Tim's gift of espresso or a moment of peace after along night."

Barbara broke out into a teary smile of her own and raised her arms, reaching out for a hug before she thought it through. Alfred surprised her yet again, leaning down to accept her embrace.

"Really, thank you, Alfred. For everything," Barbara murmured into his shoulder before he could pull away again.

He didn't. Instead, he replied, so quietly Barbara almost missed it,

"Anything for one of my favorite granddaughters."

#my writing #mine #christmasriverswrites #barbara gordon #happy birthday babs #babs and alfred #real life might have killed the rest of my writing ambitions and all of my time to participate in fandom but this series lives on!#this is the sloppiest thing I've ever posted. editing? what's that?

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taichoh · 3 years

Text

old friend

pairing: hitsukarin word count: 5298 (oopsies) warnings: none note: this is my self-indulgent fix-it fic because i can. technically post-canon, there's a hint of ichiruki but this is about my babies, who aren't babies anymore. :') ao3 link

Upon entering her adult years, Karin was coming to terms with her growing list of responsibilities, wishing she was just a kid again when the list was much smaller. Everyone can relate to missing things from their childhood, kicking a soccer ball around on a summer day, only having to stress about a simple book assignment instead of the plethora of things you’d worry about now, coming home to a full house even if it was chaos sometimes.. Most of the time. The house wasn’t quiet now, but it wasn’t as chaotic either. Karin missed it.

Ever since Ichigo decided to live the rest of his life in the Soul Society, things calmed down a bit. She was happy for him, he’d gotten a semblance of his life back after the Winter War, but it only took a couple years for him to crave a different life. She saw how morose her brother had gotten going day by day without a certain short black haired, newly appointed captain, and it only took him this long to realize some things everyone else could plainly see.

The Human World was boring anyway. She wouldn’t tell anyone yet, but she planned to follow in her brother’s footsteps. Karin wanted to wait much longer of course, for a multitude of reasons, one being she was stubborn and wanted to do what she set out to, fully prepared to hurdle any obstacles, and there were plenty.

But now she’s here, having finished school and now fully runs the family clinic with her sister. For a while their dad was with them, but after a very heartfelt conversation and a boatload of tissues, they all agreed that his time in this world was up as well. It was funny, how instead of his daughters, he was leaving the nest and going back home where he was welcomed, especially after the war. They missed him but Karin and Yuzu didn’t miss how much easier it was for their dad to smile whenever he visited. Still, with their brother and dad in a different world, reaching out wasn’t as easy as a phone call away, though Karin figured it wouldn’t be long before Urahara remedied that with yet another invention.

She still hangs out with old and new friends, but feigning disregard to Yuzu’s nagging about finding someone to settle down with was getting old. And so was she. Well not really, but she felt old. She was only in her 20s but she considered herself old when she found a gray hair in her hairbrush. It was most likely stress but regardless, the next thing would be wrinkles or joint pains and the stress from that is just gonna cause more grays to show up so really there’s no upside. She missed the days before puberty, and how much she didn’t care about her appearance. She doesn’t much these days either, but even Karin, with her confidence, had a list of insecurities that piled up over the years. It was part of being human she supposed. She missed when all she worried about was beating the stupid juniors at soccer, getting a scrape on her knee, grass stains, etc.. But she was skirting around the elephant in her room. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. She missed him. A lot. A huff escaped her as she stood at the sink in the bathroom connected to the clinic. She was watching the last of the suds from the soap disappear down the drain when she thought of him for what felt like the first time in ages. But it hadn’t been ages, she thought of him just a couple of days ago, when Yuzu mentioned yet again that she noticed how lonely Karin seemed. It was a bit harsh but Yuzu was right, and Karin knew she was just worried for her sister. “Have you talked to Hitsugaya recently?” The question caught her off guard and made her stop halfway from spooning more soup into her mouth. The answer was no. They hadn’t talked in quite a long time. She half expected to see him amidst the aftermath of the war, but she assumed he had a lot on his plate, so the idea was dismissed. “We barely talk to Ichigo or dad Yuzu, they’re all busy over there.” She knew it was bullshit the second it left her mouth. Acting nonchalant was getting harder and harder around Yuzu, because even though Karin is skilled at it, her sister was one of a handful of people that could break down those walls with a single push. The others are her brother and a boy with snow white hair and eyes you want to swim in, as much as she hates to admit it.

“But I remember you guys being pretty close, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you reaching out... I know you miss him.” It was so embarrassing being read so easily, and it was making her lose her appetite. “Yuzu he’s a captain, he’s got plenty on his plate as it is.” I’m sure I’m the last thing on his mind. “So is Rukia and she along with the rest of the gang visits us ! And from what we’ve heard from Ichigo and Dad, things have been going pretty smoothly.” Yuzu had a point. The last time they saw their family including Rukia was maybe a month ago. Karin was just getting in her head. She knew Toshiro probably wasn’t that busy but she also knew that he wasn’t the type to sit and do nothing. He was a busybody. When he wasn’t eating, sleeping, or visiting her, he was working. And when the time between his last visit continued to stretch, she figured he must have been as busy as can be. Or, maybe he forgot about me. “Toshiro would never forget you!” Yuzu shouted across from the table, making Karin jump and her cheeks flush. Did she say that last part out loud? “I can’t believe you would even entertain the idea! No one could forget you !” Even in an accusatory insulting tone, Karin knew Yuzu was being pragmatic. She always was. Karin groaned and hung her head over her dinner, not wanting to look at Yuzu’s disappointed glare. “I know,” she said dejectedly. “It’s just... A lot has changed. There was a war, we’ve graduated, Ichigo and Dad moved out. It’s been a while.” Karin couldn’t even remember the last time she saw him. It’s been years. Karin was a full fledged adult in her 20s. She wondered if he’d grown an inch or two by now. She missed whenever he’d roll his eyes at her height jokes. “Well I think it’s been long enough.” It seemed Yuzu was going to take matters into her own hands. Getting up from her seat, Yuzu started gathering their empty plates and explained her plan,“Ichigo, Rukia, and Dad are coming to dinner soon, so when they go back you are going with them.” This made Karin open her mouth to object but was immediately cut off, “And don’t use that excuse about leaving me alone. I can take care of myself, and I can call Jinta if I need to.” Karin sunk into her seat as she watched her sister clean up their dinner. Yuzu’s mind was made up, and Karin knew better than to argue with her. Every Kurosaki had the potential to be increasingly scary when they wanted to and that included Yuzu. Karin shivered at being at the mercy of her sister’s wrath hidden under that bubbly exterior.

So, it was happening. She was going to the Soul Society. To see Toshiro. After years of no contact. That’s fine. The more she thought about it the more her thoughts turned intrusive, and it was taking everything in her to not punch her reflection. That would end up with bloody knuckles and a broken mirror, so all Karin could do was take another breath, and leave the bathroom. Yuzu’s plan was panning out, as days from their conversation, their little family reconvened over dinner and it was time for them to go back home. Karin excused herself to go to the bathroom and grab her bag of necessities that Yuzu forced her to pack because apparently her trip was extended to a couple of days and not hours as Karin presumed. When it was announced, Yuzu simply explained she had some extra work to do so she would join next time, which everyone accepted much too easily. “You ready?” Ichigo asked as Karin rejoined them all on the main floor. Karin nodded and gave Yuzu a small smile which she mirrored and nodded as if to say ‘good luck’. The four of them filed onto the empty street and before she knew it they were walking through the Senkaimon. Isshin and Ichigo walked a couple steps behind Karin and Rukia as they walked the dark path that was the Dangai. Karin had only done this a handful of times, to visit her family but it still gave her chills everytime she made the trip. “So, you got anything planned?” Rukia’s voice broke her out of her reverie. She glanced over to see Rukia smirking, looking a little too proud for Karin’s liking. What she could be insinuating?

“Uh, not really.” Karin tried her best to seem nonchalant, but Rukia was getting better at reading Kurosaki’s much to Karin’s chagrin. Her only plan was to see Toshiro, but she’d probably visit some others. A simple little reunion. Part of her wanted to confide in Rukia, but she had a feeling Rukia would absolutely make sure this reunion happened. She gulped willing her anxieties to shut the hell up. “Ooh, I see, so Captain Hitsugaya has no idea you’re coming.” “How did you-” “Oh please, I’m not as dense as your brother,” Karin suddenly appreciated the distance between them and the two idiots behind them, who looked to be having their own conversation after she took a glance over her shoulder. “Plus Yuzu might have filled me in.” Her smug grin made Karin’s blush deepen but there was no hiding it.

“You can’t say anything!” Karin kept her voice low but still full of urgency, which Rukia took in earnest. “Of course Karin! I would never! Unless you wanted me to, and I won’t say anything if you feel the need to deck the Captain in the face, though I have a feeling you won’t want to-” “Why would I want to punch Toshiro?” Has he done something? What did he do? Does he have a girlfriend? What happened? Her mind was racing at Rukia’s admission and the urge to turn around and go back home popped into her head.

Rukia only sighed at Karin’s confusion, “Well according to Yuzu, it’s been a long time for you two. And he never reached out. When me and Ichigo parted ways when he lost his powers, I couldn’t reach out to him as much as I wanted to. And I wanted to. So badly,” Rukia’s voice turned solemn and Karin relaxed, suddenly thinking about how much she envied their relationship. They were so good together, and they’ve been through so much, yet they managed to traverse all those obstacles and found each other again.

Karin vaguely wondered if she’d ever have that kind of connection with someone. Suddenly Toshiro’s name was written all over her mind, but she was getting ahead of herself. Just because she’s had a crush on him for years and years doesn’t mean he feels the same. He could already be with someone for all she knew. Rukia was right, Karin might want to punch Toshiro after all.

“Anyway, he’s had all this time and he hasn’t visited! I’ll have you know things have been just fine in the Seireitei, so really there’s no excuse.” Rukia sounded like Yuzu, and they both had a point, but- “That could go both ways though.” Karin admitted, frowning and going to scratch the back of her neck. “Well I suppose, but I still think the Captain should’ve done something. He always visited you didn’t he?” “Yeah, but I’ve been to the Soul Society before, and I chose not to go see him or anything.” “Why not? That doesn’t seem like you.” Rukia was so right. It was not like Karin at all. If she was her younger self she’d kick down his door and demand him to abandon all paperwork for a game of soccer. But that was younger Karin, who barely considered her crush on the Captain of the Tenth. This was older Karin, now an adult who had to deal with her feelings. Ugh. “I know. I guess I didn’t want to bother him. He is a Captain and all. And now that I’m older I kind of understand that it’s a lot of responsibility.” Once again, she was spouting absolute bullshit and Rukia was prone to picking up on it after dealing with this family for so long. “I’m disappointed in you Karin,” She said with a hint of mockery, not meaning it wholeheartedly, but still being genuine, “It might not be my place to say, but I know I’m not the only one that noticed how much happier Captain Hitsugaya was in your company. Don’t forget I’m a Captain myself, does that mean you think my relationship with your brother hinders me in being one?” “Of course not! I never meant to-” Karin exclaimed, immediately sorry for her backwards thinking, but instead Rukia chuckled. “I know, I’m just saying. You’re right in that we have a lot of responsibilities as Captains, but you know Hitsugaya, he’ll take on more than he needs to, and you were always good at reminding him there was more to life than paperwork.” A couple moments passed as Rukia’s words sunk in. Karin considered herself an adult but she still had so much to learn. She was so grateful she had someone like Rukia to show a different perspective. Karin had to admit, she had definitely mastered the art of handling a Kurosaki. They’re family was so crazy and complicated and Rukia had no problem at all. In the back of her mind Karin reminded herself to kick her brother’s teeth in if he didn’t propose soon. There was a difference though. Ichigo and Rukia lived in the same world. Karin and Toshiro did not have that luxury. But that thought was for another time. Just focus on one thing at a time. Soon Karin was squinting when a bright light washed over the group as they entered the Soul Society. The sky above them was blue with only a couple of clouds hanging, a gentle breeze wrapped itself around Karin, and she felt oddly relaxed. She regrets not visiting more often, this could easily become her second home.

“Well it’s about time!” Karin noticed the voice immediately and watched the beautiful woman with strawberry blonde hair walk up to them. “Lieutenant Matsumoto! What brings you here? We weren’t expecting a welcome party.” Rukia chimed in for Karin, who smiled at Rangiku. Just like it had been a while since she’d seen Toshiro, it had been a while for everyone else too. Rangiku and Karin managed to strike up a friendship when Karin was confronted by Toshiro’s second during one of their visits to the human world. Karin got that ‘don’t hurt him, or I

I’ll hurt you’ talk, which Karin quickly concurred and vowed to be a good friend to him. It shocked Karin to see her jaunty personality freeze over to solemnity, and immediately melt again after the serious words were said. She knew Rangiku wasn’t an idiot, she wasn’t a Lieutenant for nothing. Above all she was glad Toshiro had her. “I heard Karin was coming to visit so I wanted to come say hi!” And when she meant ‘hi’, that meant suffocating Karin in her bosom, and not for the first time. Though after learning first hand about Rangiku’s affectionate nature, she could understand how someone like Toshiro found it a tad aggravating. Karin smiled up at her as she pulled back from the hug, “It’s nice to see you again Rangiku.” “Likewise,” Rangiku smiled gently and stepped back, “So what does Karin Kurosaki have planned for this visit?” She seemed much too hopeful for some reason, and Karin had a feeling she knew what it entailed. Again, Rangiku wasn’t an idiot. But lying wasn’t Karin’s forte so she might as well be honest. “I was gonna visit Toshiro, if he isn’t busy.” She gulped. Rangiku’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning, squealing and giving Karin another hug that once again suffocated her. Seems like that was exactly what she wanted to hear. “Oh wonderful! He’s not busy at all, and he’ll be overjoyed to see you! You really grew up didn’t you?” Rangiku’s narrowed gaze and lilted voice made Karin blush. Her tone was definitely suggestive but she wasn’t wrong. Karin had a small growth spurt amidst puberty, her hair got longer, still in a ponytail. “Who knew you’d grow up into such a beautiful woman?” She didn’t know how but her cheeks flushed even more. “Wait until the Captain sees you-” “Rangiku!” Karin exclaimed, throwing her hands up to cover her face, suddenly feeling self conscious. Not only at Rangiku’s boldness but the fact that Rangiku, who was one of the most beautiful women she’d met, just complimented her like that. Rangiku only laughed, brushing a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Come on let’s go!” Suddenly Karin was being dragged away to the 10th barracks no doubt, left to look over her shoulder to watch Rukia smirk and give a wave before turning to leave the gate as well. Rangiku let Karin catch her breath, and they walked in silence, until Karin had a thought, “I can’t help but wonder if Toshiro’s grown at all, like an inch maybe? He told me you guys aged differently here.” “Oh yes, we do! I haven’t done much aging in a looong time. Kind of a perk dontcha think? I’ve looked like this for ages,” Rangiku smiled brightly while flaunting and she had every right to, she knew she was beautiful. Karin would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t envious. As a human you have so little time compared to the time you have as a shinigami. Though the profession is dangerous, so there’s that to consider. Karin remembers when Toshiro explained the way of reincarnation and the way things worked for souls. A weight she didn’t realize she had was lifted from her shoulders that day. “And Toshiro?” Rangiku’s smile turned mischievous again but Karin was too busy looking ahead at the continuing street. “The Captain’s grown a tad, nothing too drastic.” “Oh.” Karin chuckled, that meant she’s probably still taller than him. “So I can still make height jokes.” She smiled smugly, looking forward to his disgruntled face, it was so cute when he got embarrassed. “Oh I’m sure,” was the last thing Rangiku said before they rounded the corner and they arrived at their destination. Karin’s stomach started doing somersaults, and while it had to do with the fact that she was incredibly nervous, she was also very excited. But the reality of their time apart is hitting her once again and she didn’t know how to feel about it. “Don’t be nervous.” Rangiku’s voice was suddenly softer, warmer, almost motherly. And once again, Karin was being read like a book by another shinigami. Damn, she needed to work on her poker face. All Karin could do was give her a small smile before she realized they were right outside of his office. All that stood between them was a sliding door, and suddenly her hands were clammy.

One last gulp, “Okay,” was all Karin could say.

And Rangiku being Rangiku, gave Karin no time to think before she promptly shouted, “Oh Captaaain!” and slid the door open with gusto causing Karin to jump and for the captain seated at the desk to snap his head up in alarm. But it was not Toshiro. No, Toshiro was cute and albeit attractive according to Karin, and this man was not cute. He was downright gorgeous. He was devastatingly handsome. Nope, not Toshiro. This was an imposter.

But, amidst her gaping, Karin noticed his hair was white, like Toshiro’s, and his eyes were that cerulean color that made her weak in the knees, like Toshiro’s. He was sitting in Toshiro’s seat, wearing a white haori like Toshiro did, and they were definitely in the Squad 10 offices. So, it has be- “Toshiro?” Karin croaked. Her eyes blown wide, her feet still planted at the doorway, while Rangiku buzzed next to her watching the whole exchange.

“Karin?” Oh god, even his voice was an octave lower. His eyes mirrored hers in that they were wide with shock. He couldn’t believe she was here, in the Seireitei, in his office. He also couldn’t believe that was Karin. But the more he looked at her the more he saw the familiar features he made sure to memorize, along with some noticeable new ones.. She was beautiful, and he thought he had the term defined already with a picture of her. It was still her, but he needed to update his memory it seemed. Her hair was still jet black and in a ponytail, only it was longer and a lock laid over her shoulder, her eyes were still as captivating as always, a grey abyss he’d gladly succumb to if asked. And her body, she was definitely an adult. She definitely grew up, but, so did he. What must she think of his new look? He was too starstruck to notice her eyes darken and her brows drop down in anger. “I can’t believe you!” Her fury replaced her nerves and she was suddenly marching across the threshold, fists tight at her sides, “You are such,” She grabbed the nearest object to her which was a pillow from the couch in the middle of the room and lobbed it at his head which Toshiro barely dodged, “an asshole!” Another pillow, only this time he caught it with both hands, using it as a shield for the third pillow. Toshiro wasn’t unfamiliar with Karin’s wrath, however, that didn’t mean he was happy with being at the end of it. Speaking of, her aim has dramatically improved. Anyway- “Karin-” “It’s been years Toshiro-” “I’m sorry-” “You could’ve visited-” “I know I-” “And you went and grew up! Looking like a fucking model all of a sudden and not even telling me!” A model? “Let me explain-” “No you are going to listen to me!” Karin was panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stood in the middle of the room staring him down. Toshiro fought against his instinct to shout back and promptly shut his mouth, his brows creased in regret. She was shaking with rage and she was on the precipice of breaking something, preferably his face, but- shit Rukia was right. Again. “You don’t get to sit there on your ass when you never bothered to visit after years Toshiro. Years! When Ichigo got back from the war I had to hear that you were okay from him because of course I worried. I thought we were friends, I thought we-” “We are friends!” Toshiro couldn’t take that disappointed look anymore, but she was wrong. They were friends. Friends. “I thought we were closer than that.” Karin finished her thought, her energy depleting, shoulders starting to sag. He didn’t know which was worse. Karin angry, or sad. He just didn’t like it when she was upset. And he was the cause of it. Seeing her hang her head made his heart ache, and not in the way it usually did when he looked at her.

Toshiro had all the words he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, but he was speechless. Part of him knew this day was bound to come around, he just wished he could’ve been prepared. But then again, expect the unexpected, especially with Karin. He couldn’t hate himself more than he did at this moment.

“I’m so sorry Karin,” His voice lifted her head and they locked eyes, his full of regret and hers, disappointment. “I-” This was harder than he thought, his chest hurt, his hands were stiff, and all he wanted was to see Karin happy, but he didn’t know how to make it happen, but she deserved an explanation. “I should’ve visited you. I wanted to. So badly. Even after things settled, I was so caught up in everything, I didn’t realize how long it’d been. I lost track of time. I’m sorry Karin. I was- I am an idiot. The last thing I wanted was to make you feel neglected and I went and did it anyway.”

Taking a hasty breath, he pushed himself to stand, rounding his desk and standing in front of her , only the usual roles were reversed and he was now looking down on her. No, it didn’t feel right. He towered over her and yet he felt as small as can be. Karin was still silent, ignoring his height for the moment, though she wasn’t entirely surprised given his changes. Changes she wished she could’ve witnessed sooner. Her eyes were glassy, tears on the brink of falling down her cheeks, but she willed them to stay. Until she watched Toshiro drop to his knees and bow before her, resting his head at her feet. She almost didn’t hear the tiny gasp that came from behind her, she’d completely forgot Rangiku was here, witnessing this all. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness Karin, but still, I’m so so sorry.” Karin was.. astonished to say the least. She expected an apology, but she didn’t expect this. Toshiro did many things, overwork himself, scowl, eat unhealthy amounts of amanatto, but he never did anything half-assed. Here was Toshiro Hitsugaya, a Captain of the 13 Court Guard Squads, bowing with his head at the feet of a simple human. Maybe not simple, but human nonetheless. Any bystander would argue that this was completely preposterous, but they wouldn’t know that Toshiro viewed Karin in the highest regard. He knew how much he royally fucked up, and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. “Look at me.” The closeness of her words startled Toshiro and he slowly lifted his head to see her knelt in front of him. Now it was his turn to be astonished. It wasn’t unlike Karin to be gentle when she wanted but Toshiro couldn’t understand why she would want to, he neglected their friendship for years and now she was smiling at him. Expect the unexpected. Toshiro held his breath. Karin huffed and her smile widened, “Don’t be so dramatic,” she didn’t stop herself from using her finger to brush his hair from his face. The gentlest touch, from hands that could do plenty of damage. She should’ve socked him, he knew he deserved it, he would’ve taken it. But instead, she was caressing his face. Not that he was complaining, it was just oddly uncharacteristic of her. She really had changed after all this time. They both did. Toshiro kicked himself for not witnessing it. “I forgive you, but don’t do it again.” She smacked his head, not enough to actually hurt, but enough to get the point across. He spoke too soon. This was definitely Karin though. Rubbing his head, he slowly sat up and back on his haunches, even while hunching, he was still looking down at her. It was so odd to him. But he’d have to get used to it it seems. At least there wouldn’t be any more height jokes. “Thank you, I don’t deserve it.” He said, watching Karin get to her feet and offer her hand to help him up. “Yes you do. You said sorry. That’s all I wanted. We’re adults now.” “You threw pillows at me.” “You deserved that. ” “...Yeah.” Toshiro sighed. A moment of silence passed until Karin spoke again. “I mean it, don’t do this again. I won’t be so forgiving.” “It won’t happen again. I promise.” Toshiro gave a gentle squeeze to her hand which he never let go. The simple action made her blush, looking down to their entwined hands and up his arm, which were much longer, and then to his broad shoulders, and finally back up to his face, much higher than she was used to. “And don’t grow anymore. You’re like a giant now. It’s gonna be annoying having to look up at you.” And as easy as that they were back to bickering, the tension filtered out of the room as easily as a simple breeze, and they were both thankful. “For what it’s worth, I’m not a fan either.” Toshiro noted, scowling at his new height and features which he still hasn’t gotten used to. All these years he complained about his height and now he realizes he should’ve been more careful with what he wished for. And on top of that, he was getting an increasing amount of attention which Rangiku pointed out was thanks to his sharpened features. Not his cup of tea. “I never said I wasn’t a fan.”

Karin’s words made blood rush to Toshiro’s face, did she just- Maybe it’s his cup of tea after all, if it’s Karin’s attention. That being said, he’d never wanted anyone’s attention more than hers, and now that he has it, he’s just a little alarmed. But in a good way, he thinks. And it made it easier to smile at her, even with a face redder than ever. But it was quickly replaced with a frown when he realized his Lieutenant just witnessed this entire scene with Karin, where she yelled, he bowed, she smiled, and he blushed. Her squeal made both Karin and him wince, looking over to see her jumping up and down with glee, then running over to pull them down into an uncomfortable hug. “I’m so happy for you too!” Rangiku was sniffling, squeezing the life out of them, and when she let them go they gave each other a confused glance before Toshiro spoke. “Why are you crying Matsumoto?” He asked, slightly worried and as well as confused. Karin looked softly at Rangiku, but still confused by her tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. You guys are just too cute together!”

Karin almost interjected to say that they weren’t together but what stopped her was another squeeze of her hand from Toshiro. A slow shake of his head told her to just let it go, and with further thought she realized convincing Matsumoto of anything was a difficult feat.

Later, after Toshiro escorted her to her family for dinner, dropping her off with the promise of seeing each other the next day, Karin thought about how even when walking through the Seireitei, they continued to hold hands. Toshiro paid it no mind it seemed, and while Karin wasn’t complaining, it still puzzled her.

Correcting his Lieutenant from time to time was normal for him, especially when it came to bold claims like this, but this time he refused. Did Toshiro reciprocate Karin’s feelings? Something about his behavior made her feel elated as well as nervous, they’d have to talk about it eventually. It would take some time for her to completely forgive him, but if what happened today was any consolation, everything would be okay.

They both can definitely sleep better tonight, and there was always tomorrow.

#hitsukarin #toshiro hitsugaya #karin kurosaki #toshiro x karin #hitsugaya x karin #bleach #hitsugaya #kurosaki #toshiro #karin #THIS IS SO LONG OOPS #i COULD make a second chapter if ppl were interested but this could be a standalone tbh

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vlion · 3 years

Text

What Happens on Ryloth...

Summary: ...stays on Ryloth. Din's out looking for a bounty, and when you finally hear him return, you know something's off. As he approaches the ship, you have to take matters into your own hands to help the man who has protected you countless times before, who you couldn't help but pine over each time he left like this. Let's put your knowledge of basic medical care to the test, shall we? Don't worry, you'll be compensated fairly...

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of blood/injuries, a bit of angst, very slight innuendos Rating: teen+ Word Count: 4,392 Also Posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29023713

You wake up, stretching your limbs as far as you could in the small area on the floor of the hull that you were resting on. Your body slightly shakes as your arm collides with something warm, which lets out a tiny whine as you do so.

“Come here, little guy.” You whispered, immediately wrapping your arms around the small body as he waddled over to you.

You loved these moments more than anything, which is why you had decided to travel with him and his taller, beskar-donning companion as a sort-of caretaker and emotional support human for the both of them. You also admired the relationship that the two of them had, and how this fearsome and mighty Mandalorian had decided to drop almost everything and defend this strange little critter from the dangers of the universe.

The relationship that you had with the little green alien was that of a mother and child; you were always there to comfort him, and in return, he made you smile and laugh during the many long hours you often spent in hyperspace.

The relationship you had with Mando, or Din - which you were so grateful for knowing after having been told it during a rather emotional bout of pillow talk - was definitely… interesting. He held you at night ‒ like a lover, constantly looked out for you and protected you, and even went so far as to cater to you and ensure that you were healthy and comfortable. You knew a lot about him and the Creed, but no matter how much you had longed to know him more intimately, to feel his body and memorize every curve and inch of his skin, neither of you had made the first move.

You knew there was something unspoken between the two of you, you felt it in the way his hands would grip you for just a little bit longer than necessary as if he was afraid of letting you go or leaving you. You also felt it in the ways that he would look out for you, like reminding you when to take a break after a long day of repairs or cleaning around the Crest.

You didn’t want to say that you loved each other, because you weren’t even sure you knew what love was. If love was when you knew someone was willing to protect you and care for you until the end of the universe, then yes, what you and Din shared was love. If it wasn’t, then whatever you shared was simply something that you would never trade away for anything.

The gentle tugging on your hair brought you out of your thoughts and back to the present. The kid only gets impatient like this when he’s hungry or tired, and judging by the fact that he climbed out of his pod and woke you up, the former was probably what was bothering him.

“Just a second, okay?” You reassured him, taking him into your arms and standing up from the makeshift bed of various blankets and pillows you had slept on.

Din’s bed was barely even that ‒ a bed. It was more like the softest pile of rocks in the universe. However, it got the job done, and you had slept there countless times. It just simply felt wrong to sleep there without your Mandalorian companion, who had welcomed you into it in the first place.

Your companion. That was probably the best word that you could use to describe him in relation to you, now that you think about it. He was due to come back from a pretty straightforward bounty hunt today, ensuring you that he would be back to you after just three nights of sleep. He’s never broken one of these promises before, and you wished that you could tell him that he could take all of the time he needs, this is his job after all.

However, you had to say, you admired the way that he was so disciplined and in tune with what he needed to do to ensure such a high rate of success in his line of work. Bounty hunting wasn’t easy, you knew that because you’ve seen what it can do to Din after days of subjecting himself to the gruesome conditions on planet after planet, and spending nights on his own in unknown surroundings. He was always quick to get showered and prepare to launch into hyperspace on those days, so he could join you in bed and hold you close once more.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts once more, reaching for a bag of dried fruit you had picked up shortly after landing on Ryloth, which was where the Razor Crest had been parked while Din tracked down the bounty.

You had let out a sigh of relief when you had initially landed, glad Din wouldn’t have to face temperate conditions that his beskar suit was most definitely not equipped for. It was a bit humid here, with lush valleys and jungles, but nothing he wasn’t used to. While there were many friendly faces on Tatooine, the place seemed like one big heat trap, which genuinely had you concerned about the wellbeing of the man covered in at least half his weight in metal.

You smiled down at the kid in your hands as he fiddled with the bag to try and undo the top. His little fingers and claws seemed simultaneously too sharp and soft to properly get a grip on it, so you released the pressure that was holding the bag together for him and let him dig in. You nearly shed a tear when he extended his three-fingered hand out towards you, holding a rather large piece of fruit that he wanted you to have.

You tapped his nose and deepened your smile, graciously accepting his offering. “Thanks, bud.”

However, as you chewed, your jaw grew heavy as you focused on a distant sound. The fruit in your mouth was no longer relevant as you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. The sound could be best described as a faint clunking, which you were used to hearing thanks to your fellow shipmate.

After quickly swallowing your food and releasing the kid from your grip, you stood up and approached one of the side ramps of the ship. You pressed your ear against it while it was still closed, focusing on the sound. Not many people were around in the remote area Din had landed, so you could only assume it was the Mandalorian himself. However, his steps were usually uniform and certain, this sounded… off.

If Din was in there with you, he would probably tell you to do the exact opposite of what you were about to do. He wasn’t though, and you were willing to take the risk because you already had a bad feeling about what you might see.

You stepped back and pressed the button which allowed the ramp to begin to descend and open up. You glanced at your green companion, ensuring he was too preoccupied with the food in his hand before glancing out into the now revealed landscape around you.

You were immediately shocked to see the familiar glint reflection off of Din’s armor as he made his way towards the Crest. It wasn’t his presence that shocked you ‒ it was the fact that he seemed to be limping.

Fucking limping? That’s just… not like him at all. He doesn’t do that. Not the mighty Mandalorian that you know. You knew something was wrong, but the limping wasn’t the only thing you were concerned with. He was carrying the bounty on his shoulders, something you had never seen him do before. Usually, if they were ‘warm,’ as you liked to call them, he would grab their arm and push them towards the ship. If they were ‘cold,’ he would drag them or find some type of ship or transport to get them to where he was parked. Never have you ever seen him do something like this.

Granted, this bounty happened to be female and had a very small frame. She was Twi’lek, emphasis on was, because she didn’t appear to be alive anymore. Nice one Mando.

You weren’t one for violence unless it was justified, but then again, who was? You trusted Din, however, and judging by how he was walking this bounty likely put up a worthy fight and he did what he had to. Still, seeing him bringing in bounties this way never failed to remind you just how capable and strong the man - who was now almost a couple of feet from you - was.

You moved out of the way to allow him in as he approached you, but you were shocked to see him having to pause and catch his breath. You looked him up and down and upon further notice could see a couple of patches of crimson liquid on both his armor and bits of fabric that clung to him.

Immediately, you were out the doorway, walking down the ramp and approaching the man. “Are you okay? Here.” You reached for him as you spoke, gently brushing his outer arm when he was swatting you away and ascending the ramp himself.

“Thanks for the offer, cyar'ika, but I can handle mysel-” The armored man was cut off as he nearly collapsed at the top of the stairs, his hand that was not gripping the bounty shooting out to clutch at his side. You were by him in seconds, supporting what you could of his weight from behind and looking around him to assess the situation.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “Din, did you get stabbed?!” You exclaimed, noticing how saturated his hand had become with what you could only assume to be his own blood.

After several seconds of silence on Mando’s end, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Covering his gloved hand with your bare one and applying some pressure, you walked him a bit farther into the hull and closed the ramp that led outside. The bright lights in the ship switched on, illuminating the area better than the quickly diminishing natural light as the planet had begun to grow dark.

You then did your best to back him towards the carbonite chamber, but you weren’t sure how you were going to get him to crouch down and put the bounty in to be frozen.

“Okay, if you weren’t bleeding out right now I would totally be teasing you about the fact that you decided to carry a bounty on your back after being literally stabbed, but for right now I’m going to need you to work with me.” You said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. It seemed to have worked as you heard a faint laugh through the modulator, but then it was followed quickly by a grimace that had you frowning.

You knew Din could handle himself, but as someone who cared for the guy, to say that you were concerned would be an understatement. In fact, you were on the verge of freaking out, but you knew you had to keep up your calm composure for the sake of the man in front of you.

You had to clean that wound soon as you knew it was prone to infection, so you had to be quick about figuring out what to do with the literal body on Din’s back.

You stepped towards the chamber and opened it, and glanced at the bounty. You were strong, sure, Din made sure he trained you to protect yourself in case of emergencies and whatnot. However, you had never carried a person - except the little green man - much less a dead one. So, naturally, you did the next best thing: dragged her off of Din and straight-up pushed her into the chamber. It was awkward, messy, and rushed, but you did what you had to, and Din didn’t seem to complain.

“Oh yeah!” You exclaimed, pressing the button next to the chamber and encapsulating the woman in carbonite. Your victory was only celebrated briefly, however, as you knew there were more pressing matters at hand.

Din was now leaning against a crate, still gripping his side. You approached him, extending your arm towards him once more, smiling when he let you do what you had intended to earlier before when he nearly collapsed. You slowly moved his hand out of the way, glad to see that a stream of blood didn’t come cascading out of the wound when he did so. You placed your own hand on the area, feeling the thick fabric that he wears around his midsection which seemed to have prevented the blade of whatever stabbed him from doing any major damage. He definitely got injured, but not to the point where the pain that accompanies it is debilitating.

The attacker seemed to get him in the single, small area of unarmored length on Din’s side. You huffed at that, of course they did. You glanced around, looking for a medkit but were not successful. There was one in the refresher, but you really didn’t want to leave Din right now.

“Go, I’ll be fine.” The man in front of you spoke, and you could swear the helmet had mind-reading capabilities because you would need more than one hand to count the number of times he’s just… known things.

You flicked your eyes up to where his own would be under the helmet. “Okay, but if you die, that’s not on me.”

“You know I could do this on my own?” You heard him say with a chuckle as you walked into the refresher, opening the small cabinet that contained what you were looking for. Of course, he could do this himself ‒ you had seen him do it before when he arrived injured while you were asleep or preoccupied with something that couldn’t be set aside like caring for the kid. Din would sometimes sit in the refresher for hours, worrying the shit out of you each time, but nevertheless proved that he could indeed care for himself after especially dangerous run-ins with enemies. The man had a whole life before meeting you, and it was in those times that you were reminded of that information. Still, you were here now and genuinely cared for the man. The least you could do is help him out when he is in need, knowing that he would do the same for you in a pinch.

As you looked around the refresher, you remembered that you had some bacta onboard, somewhere, but you didn’t think that he needed it. You’ve seen him get some nasty cuts and wounds in the past, and he surely had the scars to prove it. All of those times, he simply cleaned and dressed them, seemingly saving the slimy substance for serious life-threatening injuries. Not to mention, the stuff wasn’t cheap, and Din was still cohesive - for the most part - so you knew that the contents of the medkit should suffice. You also made sure to wash your hands, and grab a cloth and run some warm water over it so that you could further treat his wound and provide him some relief.

Provide him some relief. You couldn’t help snort but at the innuendo that phrase suggested. If you weren’t tending to an injured man currently, you would probably let your mind wander more, but you shook yourself out of the thought and began to head back towards Din.

“Wait! Could you...turn around?” You heard Din yell, and immediately you faced the opposite direction from him. He took his helmet off, and probably most of his armor ‒ you could tell from the lack of modulation masking his voice when he called out to you. You were used to him taking it off around you, especially at night, and on the rare occasion when you would share a meal. You had nothing but respect for his oath to the Way and to remain as anonymous as possible, but damn, sometimes you just wanted to turn him around and gaze into what you were sure to be the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Granted, you’d seen some weird types of eyes across the galaxy, including the kid’s black-brown irises. Still, the eyes are the way to the soul - or so they say - and you wanted nothing more than to know Din in that way.

Din’s panting is what brought you out of your thoughts this time. He seemed to be breathing rhythmically, in through the nose and out through the mouth. You could definitely understand why he would want the helmet off for this, and you were willing to give him all the time he needed. However, you couldn’t help but worry about the literal exposed wound on the side of his abdomen, so shutting your eyes, you decided to head towards him the best you could.

You stuck your arms out and guided yourself towards him, thankful for once in your life for all of the days you spent in this very hull to help you make your way to your companion.

Once you reached him, you reached out and your hand collided with his armor less thigh. He had sat on the crate, you could tell from the direction of the deep breaths that he was taking to calm himself and the bend in his knees in front of you.

You felt around on the crate, placing the medkit on it and feeling something smooth and cold. Taking the helmet into your hands, you turned towards where you assumed Din was, and began to reach up so that you could once again cover his face to dress and clean his wound.

“Wait,” Din said, reaching for you and angling your body and arms slightly so that your hands were correctly positioned over his head.

“What? You didn’t want me to whack you in the face?” You said sarcastically, feeling his hand continue to guide you to where his face was, your eyes still shut.

You swear you could physically hear him roll his eyes as you placed the helmet over his head, noticing how soft his hair felt as your hands slid over it.

You opened your eyes and glanced down at his injury, taking a knee so that you had better access to it. Opening the medkit, you pulled out a wipe meant for cleaning the wound, a bandage, and some healing cream infused with weak yet fast-healing bacta extracts.

You reached up at the torn fabric, which was no longer affixed directly to his skin due to the armor and belt he was previously wearing. Pulling on it slightly, the already ripped fabric provided no resistance as you ripped it a bit more so you could do what you had to do.

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” You joked, once again attempting to ease him from the pain he was most likely experiencing. You put on a serious face after making light of the situation, as a warning of what was to come. “This is going to sting a little more than normal, bear with me, okay?” You said, opening the packet containing the cleansing wipe.

Din nodded, and you heard him start to say something, but he clenched up and groaned as the wipe brushed against his wound, his hand shooting out to grab your forearm on instinct.

“It’s okay, I know.” You said, trying to be as reassuring as possible. You knew Din could take it, he was the fucking Mandalorian after all, but the pain felt while disinfecting wounds of this scope was probably unimaginable. You were lucky that you had Din protecting you, nearly ensuring that you would never have to feel anything like that for the rest of the time you spent with him ‒ which you hoped was forever.

Din’s hand was still heavy on your arm, and you paused your swiping movements to unlatch his fingers from it and offer him your hand instead. He accepted it, wrapping his fingers around it as if he was about to beat you at a round of arm wrestling. The image of him arm wrestling you was now etched in your mind forever, and you nearly chuckled out loud at the thought but forced it out of your head and you brought your hand holding the wipe up once more.

“Don’t be afraid to squeeze ‒ I’m a big girl, I can take it.” You say, closing the space between the wipe and his injury once again. He tensed up once again, once again groaning but channeling some of the pain from the stinging sensation out of him as he gripped your hand tight.

When you felt you had disinfected the area effectively and were close to receiving a broken hand, you tossed the wipe to the side and replaced it with the warm cloth. You heard Din let out a sigh of relief, his body slumping slightly.

You sat there in silence, soothing the best you could as he continued to hold your hand. You were at peace, like this, slightly starting to massage what little of Din’s skin that you had access to. You had felt it before, when he would sling an arm over you at night, ensuring that you were safe and warm in his grasp. Now, however, as he sat here, he seemed so innocent, so exposed to you, with a vulnerability you had never seen in him, even when he would open up to you at night while holding you close.

“She had a boyfriend,” Din said suddenly, breaking the silence. The statement made you tense up. Okay? She had a boyfriend? You assumed he was talking about the bounty but had no idea why he would even bring it up.

“What, are you trying to make sure I don’t get jealous or something?” You replied, not putting much thought into the statement until you were met with nothing but silence from the man in front of you.

“Oh… uh, I meant, that uh- she-” You stammered, pausing your movements while you did so and staring at anything but Mando.

Din reached out to you then, tracing your cheek with the back of his hand and placing it under your chin, angling towards his visor.

“Cyar’ika…” He began, tilting his head at you when you tried to pull away from him.

You closed your eyes and frowned, ashamed at yourself for saying something so possessive to Din, when you didn’t even know if what you felt for him was at all what he felt for you. You knew he cared for you, but you didn’t know if he liked you in that way. You almost physically cringed at how you were thinking in such childish terms, but it was all you could process at the time.

Din’s retracting arm caught your attention, bringing you out of your head for the time being. You went to look at him once more, but you were met with the palm of his hand over your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” You heard him ask, and without hesitation, you nodded. You felt like you could hear the smirk on his face when he saw you shake your head so eagerly, and your suspicions were confirmed when a chuckle left Din’s lips. However, this laugh was unmodulated ‒ had he taken the helmet off once again?

“Din, why did you‒” You were cut off abruptly by his lips pressing against yours. If Din’s hand wasn’t pressed against them, your eyes would’ve shot open because you literally wouldn’t be able to believe what you were feeling. Here was the man you had spent days on end thinking about in this way, never expecting any of your fantasies to come to light. Now, as you leaned forward to deepen the kiss, you felt like the happiest girl in the galaxy.

His tongue ran across your lips as they began to part for him, and suddenly you were tasting him, memorizing this new, unexplored area of his body that you had yet to experience. It was everything you dreamt of and more: his lips were so soft and full, and they molded with yours like they were destined to meet in this way. He tasted like honey, his tongue brushing against your own as you felt his hot breath against your lips when he exhaled.

He pulled back, smiling as you tried to get his lips back on yours again. “It’s always only been you, cyar’ika. Always.”

It was your turn to smile, as you leaned in once more, but were turned around by Din so that you were facing away from him. He leaned forward, and you could once again feel his warm breath, but this time it was on your neck, where he planted a soft kiss.

“What I had meant to say…” he started, kissing the other side of your neck this time, "was that the bounty had a boyfriend. He caught me off guard as I was taking her down.” He continued kissing down your neck, making you start breathing as heavy as he was earlier when he had first arrived on the ship.

“Din…” you said, still in complete shock that any of this was even happening.

He smiled against the skin of your neck. “I still love hearing my name from your lips, mesh’la.” He said, pulling back to plant one final kiss on your head before you heard him placing the helmet back on his shoulders.

You turned around to dress his wound, which is why you had even initiated this interaction in the first place, but sighed and pinched your forehead as you glanced at his wound once again. He was bleeding once again, probably from all the shifting he had done while kissing you.

Din looked down as well, looking back up at your eyes after seeing what you saw.

“You better not be smirking under there Mando,” you said, refusing to use the name he had just complimented you on using.

“You know me so well, cyar’ika,” Din replied, and you swear that was the exact moment you truly, undoubtedly, fell in love with him.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #mando gets a boo-boo #hurt/comfort #mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #cyar'ika #star wars

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agoodgoddamnshot · 3 years

Text

(Synonyms For) Tired - Geraskier [E]

[gif isn’t mine]

Warnings: Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse

Word Count: 7,188

ORIGINALLY POSTED TO MY AO3

“Wouldn’t you just love to punch him in the face?”

The harsh glare of the sun is almost blinding as Geralt glances over, watching Lambert gather his reins and nudge his gelding forward. He snorts and tosses his head, but Lambert quickly corrects him. It takes a moment, but eventually, Niels gives up on his pestering, and arches his neck into his bit.

The man being drenched in Lambert’s vitriol stands in the centre of the arena, hands perched on his hips as he watches each of his horses trot around him. A trained sharp eye watches every step and footfall, the seat of the horses’ riders, and how much rein each of them are being allowed to take. Armoured in a pristine and tailored suit, and glasses perched on the low of his nose, Alfred Pankratz’s ever-watching and judging eyes are never too far away.

Lambert keeps the rest of his words tightly concealed behind clenched teeth, even as Alfred calls out to him. “Tighten up that rein, Blake,” his Redanian-accented voice booms through the indoor arena, even over the rhythmic thumping and snorting of horses.

Gods, he wants to talk back. Geralt barely manages to stop himself from smiling when Lambert huffs out a sharp breath.

Roach floats underneath him; never causing bother or hassle, striding easily around the circuit as if she were in a test. He never needs to tell her to do anything. A small shift in his hands or in his seat will have her collected or extended. She’s always been his favourite mount. If he could afford it, she’d be his. He was here from the moment she was born, and the only one who could ride her properly without being kicked at or thrown off.

Her retirement, maybe. Perhaps he could try and convince the ever-watching yard owner that she deserves time in the countryside, where she can spend the rest of her days rolling around in grasses and chasing sheep in the neighbouring fields.

For now, though, Alfred’s name is on the papers of every single horse here.

His voice cracks across the barn. “One more circuit,” he calls out, arms folding in front of his chest, “and then head out where you need to be.”

Geralt thanks every god he can remember the name of that Lambert’s gelding has the same training schedule as Roach. The pair of them will be taken out on to the sand arena in front of the main house; where the Pankratz wealth can loom over them as a constant reminder of how lucky they are to be employed here.

The pay is good. The pay is great. Every gold piece he earns from his work goes into a separate bank account, stashed away just for him, to buy his own land after he retires. His shoulder twinges as he turns Roach for her final trotting lap of the arena. A retirement may come sooner than later, with every year that passes. Old injuries that he thought had healed and slunk away reawaken, pulling at him in the morning and reminding him throughout the rest of the day that he’s getting older, that he had been pushed and pushed to his limit and beyond it.

Roach snorts underneath him, shaking her head. He settles a hand on to her neck, soothing.

Alfred’s eyes don’t leave them until they break for their own training areas. Some horses linger behind in the arena, prepared to work on their flatwork for the day. Others take a sharp turn out on to the gallops winding out and around the yard.

The sand arena sits behind the Pankratz’s house; a house few of them have even been near, let alone in. Not even Geralt has been inside of it, to the best of anyone else’s knowledge. He has, but he’s not going to go and parade that bit of information around. The house is as drenched in gold as the rest of the yard; a wood and stone mansion sitting on a slight hill, looking over the yard and lands around it as some looming reminder that it’s Pankratz gold that made this place, that keeps them in their own homes and living comfortably.

The back of the house, with tall walls and long lancet windows, with high vaulted roofs, hosts an ample garden and pool and rockery with Mrs Pankratz’s gardens. Alfred’s wife isn’t nearly as firm with them, offering them drinks on hotter days and more breaks between training sessions. Even her face is kinder, with soft eyes and a persistent smile curled along her painted lips as she regards each of her husband’s horses and their riders in the morning warm-up.

Geralt tries to imagine Alfred Pankratz smiling and it threatens to run a shiver through his spine. The only time the man’s steely facade will break is when Geralt brings him home another trophy.

Roach stretches out her neck, walking easily underneath him. Niels bumps his nose to hers as they head to the sand arena, and she snorts. Lambert gathers Niels back. “It’s not you, buddy,” he sighs, patting the gelding on the neck. “She’s just a stubborn cow.”

Geralt bites his tongue just as Roach’s ears flatten back. The only person allowed on her back is him; decreed by both her and Geralt’s boss. Alfred has watched the mare squabble and throw off too many other riders in the yard that he threatened to sell her on. An un-rideable horse wasn’t going to win him any trophies or money, so what good was it to him? Until Geralt climbed on one day, settling a hand on to her neck, and steered her through a good flatwork session – something no one could do with her before.

The sand arena has already been set up. A few stray workers fix the last of the jumps to the appropriate height, checking the strides in between double and triple jumps, and drift towards the edge of the arena. The sand is neatly combed and the trees surrounding one length of the arena are neatly trimmed. Most of the money Pankratz spends is pumped back into his facility, making sure it’s clean and proper for visiting investors and their families.

The house sits above them on a slight hill, and Geralt has grown used to not even acknowledging it. He looks over the arena, at every jump made up, and plots his course for the session. With Roach warmed, she starts picking up her stride, trying to break into a canter as her ears flick and her attention is caught by the high and brightly coloured jumps dotted around the arena.

Lambert keeps to his side. Before Geralt can shake him away, glowering at him to figure out his own path, the man nods at the house. “The trust fund is back.”

Geralt follows Lambert’s eye, brows knitting together at the sight he can just barely make out through the heat haze settling over the yard. Julian Pankratz, stretched out underneath the sun is in an undone sheer button-up shirt, revealing his chest and the dip of his hips. Just barely concealing him is a pair of denim shorts, practically underwear with how tightly they hug his hips and the top of his thighs.

Oxenfurt stole him away for almost a year. Not terribly far away, but enough of a distance for Geralt to notice the quiet left behind after he was gone. Yes, Jaskier Pankratz is a huge pain in his ass, and Jaskier’s sole mission in life seems to be giving Geralt as many grey hairs as possible, but the quiet that followed was deafening.

Lambert chuckles. “Miss him, did you?” he asks, squinting at Geralt’s face. “A hint of emotion almost showed just there.”

If Geralt could kick out at the other man, he would. Or reach across with his crop and leather Lambert across his shoulder. The man sets his heels to Niels’ side, pressing him forward as Lambert shakes in laughter.

His grip tightens on Roach’s reins. The ever-attentive mare snorts, pulling at her bit. Focus. Jaskier might be home, but with Roach threatens to curl around and nip at his toes, he sets her forward into a canter, and looks for his jumps.

Chatter quietens when he steps back into the barn, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and skin cooling the second the barn’s AC blasts him with cold air. Geralt arches an eyebrow at the sight of Eskel and Coën huddled against Scorpion’s stable, the stallion more interested in his haynet to the other corner of his stall, rather than the gossiping riders at his door.

Eskel’s lips thin. Whatever he had been saying is kept tightly behind them. Coën, though, regards Geralt for a moment as he passes, ushering Roach into her stable across the aisle. Roach spits out her own bit, shaking out the arena’s dust and grime from her mane as she pads over to her water trough. Just as Geralt sets his hands to the girth of her saddle, he can feel a pair of eyes falling on to him. “So,” Coën lilts, threading his arms through the stall’s grid and offering Geralt a small smile. “I see that the kid is home.”

Geralt’s lip threatens to lift. “He’s not a kid,” he grunts, undoing the last of the buckles keeping Roach’s tack on her. The moment he strips her saddle off, she does a full-bodied shake. He’ll wash her later, when she’s cooled off by herself and gotten something to drink.

He turns to Coën, the man wearing the same curled smirk on his lips as Lambert. “He’s a year younger than you,” Geralt says stiffly, setting Roach’s saddle on the stall door and threading her bridle over it. If he keeps his eyes on the ground, or making sure that Roach’s trough is refilling with water when she drinks, maybe Coën will go away.

But it’s not looking likely. “Are you going up to him?”

Geralt sighs. “Why?”

“Because you two were very close last summer,” Coën says, albeit a bit more subdued. Music is playing softly overhead, with someone having conquered the speakers and plugged in their phone instead. And the neighing of horses further down the aisle and people chattering among themselves won’t let Coën’s words be heard by any curious ears, but he appreciates the man’s attempt to keep it to themselves. Coën lifts a shoulder. “I thought you might want to, I don’t know—”

Eskel bats him away. Even through the murmur of conversation and horses kicking at their stall doors further down the barn, they can always make out the tell-tale footfalls of Alfred Pankratz. “Bellegarde!”

Even despite the mid-summer heat worming into the barn, despite the AC being blasted overhead, a chill threatens to shake through Geralt at the bellowing of his name down the aisle. Coën and Eskel break away, scampering back to their own horses’ stalls to gather their tack and go anywhere else.

Even Roach flashes him an apologetic look as he takes a steadying breath before stepping out of the stall. Geralt gathers Roach’s things, threading them over his arm, just before he is faced with Alfred Pankratz. “There you are, Bellegarde,” he quips. Spotting the tack on his arm, he waves a hand at it. “Leave that for someone else. Here, let Rhodes handle that. Rhodes! Rhodes, where are you—” Alfred spots Eskel in Scorpion’s stall. He snaps his fingers. “Rhodes, see that this is put way. Bellegarde, come with me.”

Geralt shoots Eskel a soft look before he follows Alfred. A walk towards the gallows if ever he saw one. He keeps his hands by his sides, fingers fidgeting as he wonders why Alfred would ever try to root him out during the day. Near competitions, Alfred will be glued to his side. Ever-watching eyes will only be on him, making sure that both he and Roach are ready for the event.

But now, he thinks back on the last few days and weeks, and he can’t imagine what Alfred could want with him—

Oh.

Geralt blinks at the sight of a familiar grey gelding pawing at the ground, bridled and saddled, and reins threaded over Jaskier’s arm as he fixes his gloves. Geralt’s breath threatens to catch in his throat. His tongue starts to thicken in his mouth, with any words he could say fading away.

Alfred sets a firm hand on to his shoulder. “Now, Bellegarde,” he says stiffly, “my son will be home for the summer and needs a steady hand to get him back into training.”

For all the fear in saying the wrong thing to Alfred Pankratz, his son doesn’t hold the same feeling. Jaskier sighs, something loud and exhaustive. “I don’t need help,” he mutters, reaching up to pull his gelding’s stirrups down. “I can work by myself.”

Alfred’s lip tightens. “Nonsense, boy. How are you going to correct your form if no one is watching you?” He nudges Geralt forward. “If we’re to get you competition ready, you can’t be slouching—”

An argument as old as time, ever since Jaskier was a baby and was put on to a horse’s back by his grandfather. A kinder man, for all that Geralt can remember of him. Pity his son turned out to be such an asshole—

Jaskier is already leading his gelding over to the nearby block, ignoring whatever feely pours from his father’s lips. Geralt is getting almost as good as the other man for ignoring it. Jaskier’s gelding, Pegasus, stands attentively while his rider hops up on to him, settling comfortably on to his back. The last gift to him before his grandfather passed away; a tiny black foal that turned whiter and whiter with every year. A foal that didn’t look like it would ever make anything of itself, but Geralt watched the hours Jaskier put in, and Pegasus can jump and event just as well as the best of them.

Jaskier just doesn’t want to compete.

Alfred grunts. “Go with him,” he waves Geralt away, catching the bridge of his nose before storming back to the barn. Geralt stands there for a moment, fingers fidgeting by his side, before he takes a measured breath and trails after Jaskier.

Pegasus brings them to the arena, and the second he’s inside, Jaskier nudges his heels to his side, and breaks him into a steady trot. Geralt stays by the fence, knowing when he’s not welcomed somewhere but if Alfred Pankratz seems him anywhere else, he’ll be murdered. So he stays, arms resting on the fence as he watches Jaskier send Pegasus down the lines of the arena, turning to do his circles.

And Alfred does have a point. Jaskier’s back has gotten soft, and his shoulders stoop inwards ever so slightly. But his leg and hands are good, as are his silent commands to Pegasus to slow back into a collected walk, or break forward into a canter. As Jaskier comes back from his circuit of the arena, he brings Pegasus from a collected and neat canter into a squared halt. The sand and dust plume away from him as he glowers down at Geralt. “I don’t need you here,” he says stiffly. “So go away.”

Geralt holds his glare. “You know your father will have my head if I leave—”

Jaskier’s lips thin. He gathers his reins, bowing Pegasus’ neck and setting his heels to the gelding’s side. He says nothing else, but nudges the horse into a canter away. Geralt watches him go. His fingers curl into the wood of the fence, picking at the paint starting to crack and flake away.

He’ll have a summer of this, whatever this is. And even if this is the first day of Jaskier being back, he already fucking hates it. The tightness in the corner of Jaskier’s lips, the glare threatening to glint in his eye when he rides past Geralt again, how stiff and square his shoulders are.

Geralt’s tongue sours. A whole summer, and it’s just starting.

Roach nudges her head into his armpit, almost knocking him off of his feet as he combs through the last of her mane just behind her ears. He huffs a quiet laugh, reaching under to scratch her chin. She’s quiet this morning, barely awake when he stepped into the barn and switched on the main lights. He’ll always be the first one here. He might hate the man who owns the property, but he’ll give every minute of his time for the horses.

With everyone else feed and watered, all that’s left to do is to groom Roach. And while she turns back to munch on her hay and oats, he takes this last free moment to untangle the worst knots in her mane. What she does in her sleep to make it so unkempt, he really has no idea. “If you can’t look after your hair, girlie, then we’re just going to have to shave it down,” he murmurs, smiling when her ears flatten back. “You’ll be like one of those proper polo ponies—”

She lifts a leg to kick back at him, but he’s known her long enough to know her tricks. Geralt steps out of the way and sets a hand on to her flank. “Cow,” he lightly scolds, running his eyes over her. Brushed and clean, with her hooves picked and shoes inspected. More and more riders and grooms arrived as the morning rolled on. He offered a small smile to Eskel as he passed, leaving a neatly packed bagel and oat bar in a paper bag for him at Roach’s stable door. Alfred tends to keep riders he likes, and Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert have been here for a few years. Coën joined them later, with Alfred having spotted him at a past event and held out an opportunity to change stables. Alfred isn’t only good at collecting horses, it seems.

He isn’t due to tack Roach up and be at the indoor arena for another hour, so he collects his bagged breakfast and roots through it. Eskel is his only reminder to feed himself, with how much time and energy he puts into looking after the horses in his care. Gods forbid if Eskel was ever gone. He would starve within the week.

The barn’s office originally belonged to Alfred. Enough of his trophies and ribbons adorn the walls. But within the last few years, he’s moved his business into the house. If any of his investors have to come into the barn, he’ll use the space; but for now, it’s just a glorified staff lunchroom. Lambert is already inside, shovelling the last of his own Eskel-baked bagel into his face while watching some show on his phone.

Before he can step inside, his ears prick at the sound of a car pulling into the courtyard. He looks out on to the cobbles, to a gleaming black Porsche parking beside Alfred’s. The man who steps out is young, maybe the same age as Geralt, with warm olive skin and perfectly quaffed black hair. A neatly trimmed and kept beard frames his face. Geralt’s brows knit together.

One of the grooms wanders over, presumably asking if the man is looking for anyone in particular. Just behind them, Geralt notices, Jaskier hurries down the cobblestone path leading towards the mansion house. Geralt’s tongue thickens in his mouth at the sight of him. Hair wet and freshly washed, glinting against the harsh sunlight. A pale blue tee cropped short, revealing his lean abdomen and waist, and denim shorts that hitch high on his hips.

Jaskier waves the groom away before threading his arm through the man’s, smiling at him as he leads them towards the house.

Geralt watches them go, lunch long forgotten about until a firm hand lands on his shoulder. “Let it go,” Coën murmurs behind him. He squeezes Geralt’s shoulder before slipping away, trying to draw him into the office. Geralt wordlessly follows, not that interested in his breakfast anymore.

Lambert looks up from his phone, brows knitting together as he sees Geralt pad by him. But a quick shake of Coën’s head silences any question that could be perched on the man’s tongue.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

And he can’t help it. Alfred’s voice fades away as he watches from the middle of the sand arena. He’s dressed down for the day; a crisp white button-up shirt and slacks, instead of his usual suit. Sunglasses shield his eyes, but Geralt knows that they’re as intense and peering as always.

Geralt can’t help it. As Roach canters neatly around the edge of the arena, he glances up at the house. And his stomach twists at the sight he sees. Two bodies lounging by the pool to the back of the Pankratz’s house. One familiar frame belongs to Jaskier; shirtless, but with tight and high shorts ridden up along his thighs. Wading into the pool is the man from earlier, and Geralt tries to force his eyes back on to Roach, happily cantering around the length of the arena while his blood starts to warm.

Lambert is on the other side of the arena, turning on the diagonal to approach a jump. Alfred stays behind, arms crossed in front of him as he watches Lambert’s gelding take sure strides towards the jump, but leaps early. Even though he’s on the other side of the arena, Geralt can hear Lambert grumbling under his breath from here. “Don’t let him run off on you like that, Blake!” Alfred calls.

The jump is still standing though, and that’s really all that matters in a timed event. But “I know, you fucking prick,” is all Geralt hears from the other man as he travels passed him. Roach’s ears prick, spotting the jump and wanting to join the others in approaching it. Geralt reaches down, scratching the peak of her withers. “Soon, baby girl, in a minute,” he murmurs, still intent on working on their flatwork for now.

He tries not to look. He keeps count of Roach’s sure strides in his head, but he does look. Eyes wander up towards the house, to Jaskier stretched out on a sunbed, lounging in the stifling summer heat, while the other man does his laps of the pool.

Geralt’s jaw flexes.

“Bellegarde!” Alfred calls, clicking his fingers. Geralt’s hold on Roach’s reins tighten. “Take the next diagonal to the jump. You’re next.”

If he’s looking for the jump then he won’t be looking up at the house. Fine. Roach’s ears are pricked and she bows her head, collecting her own canter as they round the corner and stretch down the diagonal. She pulls against him for a moment before settling into a rhythm as the jump comes into view. I’ve never steered you wrong, baby girl, he says to himself, before doing a mental count of their strides.

4—

Roach lifts herself up, popping easily over the jump. All Geralt has to do is lift himself high enough out of the saddle to let her back bend and arch into it. When they land, he gathers her up again and pushes her to the other corner before turning.

Behind him, there’s a sharp clap of hands. “There you go!” Alfred calls. “Now, that’s how you take a turn. Got it?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the other riders, and Geralt’s face warms. Gods he hates it. He hates being used as an example. Lambert can give him shit about being Alfred Pankratz’s favourite because he’s known the man since they were spotty and gangly teenagers. But it’s the looks from everyone else he hates.

Roach snorts underneath him. Alfred continues to hold court with most of the riders on the far side of the arena, all letting their horses roll back into steady walks before halting. Geralt lets Roach do the same, and the mare throws back her head, wanting to jump again. He reaches up to scratch behind her ears.

Lambert sidles up beside him, avoiding Alfred’s ire. He reaches out to nudge Geralt’s elbow, before nodding up at the house. “So what’s going on there?” he asks lowly, making no attempt to be secret in where he’s looking. Lambert all but stands up in his stirrups, craning his neck to look at the back of the Pankratz’s house.

Geralt rolls his eyes. “How the fuck should I know?”

Lambert is quiet for a moment. “Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” he whistles lowly. “What happened between you two that you became such a grump all of a sudden?”

Geralt bites at his tongue. “I don’t know,” he grunts.

His house isn’t too far away from the yard; no more than a thirty-minute drive. Alfred likes to keep his employees as close to the facility as he can. Some of the grooms live on-site, while Lambert took up the man’s offer of a small bungalow built near the farm, rented out and lived-in with Eskel.

Geralt’s house is the same; something that almost resembles a cabin as it sits further out than the others, near where the trees start to gather and thicken. It’s quieter out here, although living in the countryside is quiet anyway. With the main hum of traffic gone for the night, it’s dark and calm, and Geralt sighs as he sits down with a tumbler of whiskey caught in his hand.

He tries not to drink on working days, knowing that one will lead to another, and his following morning will be tampered with. He sets the glass on to the table beside him, slouching further into the plush leather couch while scrolling aimlessly through the TV channels.

The rest of the house is dark and quiet, with it being only him. Eskel and Lambert both offered to get a bigger place. If they pooled their gold together, they could have asked for a place for the three of them. Coën wanted in on the deal too, and no one saw any issue with it. But Geralt likes being this far out, he likes the quiet and the calm and the shelter away from prying eyes. The further away from Pankratz’s estate he can be, the better.

Just as he’s settling, warmth starting to ease the last bit of tension from his upper back and shoulders, his phone buzzes. Geralt takes a measured breath. It isn’t odd for him to get a call during the night from one of the overnight grooms to tell him that Roach or any other horses he rides for are causing mischief. He fishes his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, frowning at the number and name scrawled across the screen.

JASKIER

His thumb hovers over the screen for a moment as he regards the time. It’s not terribly late. Jaskier has called him in the middle of the night in the time before—

Geralt scrunches his eyelids, taking a moment to breathe. He swipes ANSWER before anything in his brain can tell him otherwise.

He sets the phone to his ear. “Jaskier?” he breathes.

The voice that floods the other line isn’t Jaskier’s. It doesn’t belong to anyone Geralt knows. And he frowns. “Geralt? Is this Geralt? Sorry, uh, I’m Jaskier’s friend and he has you as his emergency contact—”

His blood chills. Before he can catch up with his own body, he’s up from the couch and heading towards the front door. “What’s wrong?”

The man at the other end of the line sucks in a shaking breath. “We, uh, fuck. We were just hanging out and he, um. You’re not going to tell anyone are you?—”

Fuck this. “Did he take too much?” Geralt bites, gathering his keys and jacket from the rack beside the door. He stuffs his feet into his old worn boots, before doing a quick check on the house to make sure everything is off before he leaves.

The man swallows thickly. “Uh, shit, yeah. My guy is good though, I promise. I didn’t know that anything would be wrong with it, and I don’t know how many Jaskier—”

He fucking hates trust fund kids. Geralt snarls. “Listen,” he barks down the phone, leaving his house and sliding into his car. “Turn him on his side and wait for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He’s absolutely going to break a few speed limits, but fuck it. The man on the other end of the line bumbles a sure before Geralt hands up, tossing his phone on to the passenger seat and setting shaking hands on to the steering wheel. Fuck Jask, he thinks, sticking the keys in the ignition and pulling away from his house. What are you doing?

A flustered looking man meets him at the door, worrying his thumbnail between his teeth. “I didn’t know who else to call,” he babbles, following Geralt as he brushes past and stalks into the cabin. “Definitely not his dad. Gods, could you imagine? I mean, I guess I could have because this is an emergency. By the gods, he isn’t going to die is he?—”

Geralt doesn’t even look over his shoulder. He runs his eyes throughout the cabin; an expansive space made from stone and wood, like the main house, but suitably Jaskier’s. Even though he has his own room in the main house, most of his time is spent out here, away from prying patriarchal eyes. And it’s for this exact reason—

He crosses the main room of the cabin within strides, heading for the stretch of floor Jaskier is pooled on. He’s on his side – thank the fucking gods – with a small pool of spit dribbling out of his mouth. Geralt clicks his tongue. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it on to the couch and setting his hands on to Jaskier. He feels the man’s forehead. Warm, but not overly so. His other hand settles on Jaskier’s chest, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, but not wanting to burst out of his chest, and his lungs fill with deep breaths.

Not the worst state he’s found the man in, but it still makes Geralt’s hands shake. He turns to Jaskier’s head, watching the man’s face intently. His eyes are open, dazed and looking straight ahead. “Jaskier. Can you hear me?” Geralt murmurs, pushing the man’s hair back from his face.

Jaskier hums. Something barely audible, but he nods afterwards. Good. Geralt wets his lip. “How much did you take?” He taps Jaskier’s face until the man’s eyes open again. It’s a struggle to keep them open. “How much weed did you take, Jaskier?”

The words take a while to reach him. Jaskier’s normally bright blue eyes are almost swallowed entirely by pupils. Jaskier’s lips crack open, words perched on his tongue. But he swallows thickly. Geralt frowns. He looks up, searching for the other man. He isn’t too far away, lingering just behind the couch. The question sits with him instead. “Uh, not much,” he offers, gesturing to the coffee table behind Geralt, “two blunts. We had some edibles too, but I don’t know if he took too many or—”

He doesn’t even have the ability to tell the guy to shut up. He turns back to Jaskier, carding his fingers through the man’s hair and watching him slowly begin to realise who’s in front of him. Jaskier’s brows knit together, a soft frown that barely settles on to his face. “Geralt,” he murmurs, blearily reaching out and curling his fingers on Geralt’s arm. “Wha, why are you—”

The man behind the couch pipes up. “Do we have to call someone else? Like, paramedics or—”

“—No,” Geralt mutters, slipping his arms under Jaskier’s shoulders and knees before hoisting him into his arms. Gods, he’s light. Lighter than he was before—

He winces, shaking the thoughts and memories out of his head. Jaskier slumps against him, arms hanging like dead weights, but Geralt watches his chest lift and fall. Good. “He just needs to sleep,” he murmurs, feet already taking him towards Jaskier’s room.

The man left behind continues to pace and wring his hands, but he’s forgotten about the moment Geralt steps into Jaskier’s bedroom. It’s one of two, but this one is more like the man himself. His guitar is perched near his desk; a mess of notebooks and papers and books. More scattered clothes lie on the floor and on the back of chairs than in his wardrobe.

Geralt’s chest tightens. He pads over to the bed, gently setting Jaskier down and making sure the man stays on his side. He cards his fingers through Jaskier’s hair again, pushing it out of his face. Jaskier’s eyes crack open again. It takes a moment, but Jaskier reaches out again, blearily trying to catch Geralt’s hand in his.

Geralt’s tongue swells in his mouth. He lets Jaskier catch his hand, curling their fingers together in a loose hold. His skin is warm and familiar, and Geralt’s heart aches. When Jaskier speaks, it’s low and murmured and half-lost to the pillow he’s shoving his face into. “Stay,” he mumbles.

Someone should stay with him. Just in case he throws up in the middle of the night, or has some sort of hallucination—

Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand. “Sure,” he rumbles, keeping his voice low. A small smile threatens to curl the corner of Jaskier’s lip, but sleep takes him under before it can form. Geralt lingers for a moment, kneeling at Jaskier’s bedside, feeling the man’s grip on his hand loosen and loosen until Geralt can pull away. He does one last quick check on Jaskier before he stalks away. The cabin is bigger than his own house, but it’s nothing like the mansion next door. He would have gotten lost in that mansion if it weren’t for Jaskier.

He stalks back to the living room, eyeing the box of weed and filter papers and plastic bags scattered on the table. The man responsible for it wrings his hands together. “Take that shit and get out,” Geralt snarls, the corner of his lip threatening to lift. The man blinks at him before he scampers forward, gathering everything and heading for the door. Before he can step outside, he’s stopped by a firm hand catching his wrist. Geralt leans close, making sure every word he says is clear and understood. “You don’t mention a word of this to anyone. Not to your friends. Not to Jaskier’s parents. Not to anyone. Understood?”

The man’s mouth gapes as he struggles to find words. He nods instead, swallowing thickly. Geralt’s grip on him loosens before the man scampers away. Geralt huffs, closing and locking the door. The cabin has always been a mess. He doesn’t need to pick up Jaskier’s jacket or shoes or the many, many cartons of take-out food and drink cans littering the table. He leaves his jacket behind as he pads back to the man’s room, shutting off lights as he goes.

Jaskier’s room is still. The man is stretched out in his bed, slumped to the side and almost falling over. One arm hangs heavily over the side of the bed, fingers grazing the wooden floors below him. But the soft breaths and the gentle lift and falls of his chest, Geralt knows that the man is asleep. He’ll stay sleeping, gods be good, for the rest of the night.

Geralt’s lips thin. He goes to the bathroom, collecting a towel to set on the floor beside Jaskier, just in case he does get sick during the night. At least neither of them will have a mess to clean up off of the floor. The room is so quiet, and he hates it. Jaskier always makes noise. Mindless chatter that used to burrow into Geralt’s ears and prod at his brain. He misses it. In the quietness left behind, he misses Jaskier’s voice and all of the useless shit he used to talk to him about.

His chest tightens.

Jaskier shuffles in bed, whining softly and burying his face into his pillow. Geralt’s fingers fidget by his side, not quite knowing where would be a good place for him to keep his watch. He pads over to Jaskier’s desk, moving any clothes that had been draped and tossed over the back of the chair on to the pile already gathered on the floor. He takes a seat, huffing at the press of wood into his back.

It’ll be for a few hours. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, tapping out a quick message to Eskel.

Geralt [00:34] – Could you look after Roach in the morning for me? Going to be late.

Eskel [00:38] – Sure thing. Are you okay?

Geralt [00:39] – I’m fine.

And it’s left at that. Geralt puts his phone away, letting the soft glow of one lamp perched on Jaskier’s desk light the room. Jaskier doesn’t move much in his sleep, but sighs heavily every so often. Geralt shifts his seat, trying his best to get as comfortable as he can and crossing his arms over his chest. His watch is going to be a long one, and one that he doesn’t mind at all.

Jaskier sleeps, barely twitching, but Geralt listens to him breathe. Soft breaths against his pillows, followed by gentle snores. Familiar sounds that have Geralt’s chest tightening and tightening, until he worries that he won’t be able to breathe. Sleep won’t come easily for him, he knows that. But he sits back into the chair, sighing as he closes his eyes, trying to chase it down all the same.

It’s a wordless morning. Geralt rubs at his eyes, wincing at the harsh morning light stretching into the cabin. With the summer months starting to settle in, the nights are short and the days are long. Just as the moon slinks away, it’s reappearing again only a moment later. His stomach rumbles and every muscle in his shoulder and upper back groans and protests him trying to sit up from the chair.

He winces as he works out a bad crick in his neck, trying to roll his head and stretch the lines there, but a shuffling sound from the bed catches his attention. He watches Jaskier slowly claw back at consciousness, climbing up and up until he musters just enough energy to lift his head from his pillow and bury it into the crook of his arm instead. Another deep sigh leaves him before he tries again, looking around his side of the room and frowning.

Jaskier’s voice is nothing more than a harsh rasp. “What happened?” he murmurs.

“You had too many edibles,” Geralt replies lowly, regarding the other man for a moment. Jaskier rubs at his face, wincing at the sun too. Even with the curtains pulled, sunlight streams in from the higher windows, the ones near the tall vaulted ceilings.

Geralt can feel his blood starting to warm. His words are measured and slow, taking their time to crawl out of his mouth. “Who was that guy?” he asks calmly. At Jaskier’s slightly puzzled expression, Geralt continues on. “The guy who was here last night. Who was he?”

Jaskier glowers at him. The haze that had clouded his eyes is long gone, revealing the bright blue that Geralt remembers, but something vile and spiteful sits in them now. “Why do you care?”

Geralt clicks his tongue. “Jaskier.”

There’s a bit of a struggle to detangle himself from his sheets, but Jaskier manages. He sets his bare feet on to the floor, taking a moment to rub at his face and think. “I don’t know, uh, Chireadan,” Jaskier winces, “yeah, Chireadan.”

Geralt levels him with a look. “You don’t even know his name.”

Jaskier’s head snaps, eyes glaring at him. “His name is Chireadan, Geralt,” he bites. “There you go. A perfectly good name.”

Geralt holds his stare. “Where did you meet him?”

“Fucking, gods alive, why do you care?”

“I care when you overdose on some powerful shit with a guy you barely know,” Geralt bites back, the arch of his lip threatening to lift.

Jaskier snorts sharply. “Overdose, I had two blunts and—”

“—And when I got here, you were spaced out and beyond words.” Geralt doesn’t yell. He growls and snaps at people, but he doesn’t yell. And his voice is climbing in volume now, dangerously close to baring his throat raw. “What if something happened, hmm? If you had choked on your own vomit because you were too fucking spaced out to roll on to your side? What if that guy – Chireadan – took advantage of you—?”

“Just fucking stop, Geralt,” Jaskier snarls, standing up and teetering slightly on his feet. Gods alive, he’s like a newborn colt finding his first steps in the world. He has to catch the end post of his bed as he shuffles past Geralt, making a straight line for the cabin’s main room. Without as much as another word or look at Geralt.

Fuck this. “What’s your problem?” Geralt snaps, stalking after Jaskier. “The last time you and I spoke, it was a year ago; and then it was fucking radio silent after that. What happened? No texts while you were in Oxenfurt. Nothing about you coming home for the summer. When I tried talking to you last week you damn near bit my head off. And now this? What the fuck is wrong with you—?”

“—Because you kissed someone else!” Jaskier roars back at him, eyes steely, but reddened with unshed tears. Jaskier’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “You fucking prick! I saw you! You and Yennefer, making out in that fucking bar downtown!”

The words cut at his skin and the silence left behind is deafening. Jaskier’s breath shakes as it leaves him, as he winces when he catches up with his words. Geralt’s throat bobs. “Jask,” he rasps.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Jaskier growls, voice low and trembling. He rubs at his face, skin starting to redden and blotch. “Get out.”

Geralt’s brows knit together. His feet are rooted to the ground below him.

Jaskier winces. “Get out!” he roars, turning and stalking to the kitchen. With the open-plan of the cabin, he doesn’t get out of Geralt’s eye line. And that’s the worst part. Geralt watches him catch the sharp edge of the granite kitchen counter, taking a sharp inhale as he roots around for a glass.

Something tells him to move. A quiet voice that fights through all the others telling him valid reasons to stay, to keep an eye on Jaskier and make sure he’s alright.

Go.

Geralt swallows. His tongue sits heavily in his mouth as he swallows, almost choking as his throat bobs and clenches. He wanders towards the couch, collecting his jacket, before heading to the door. He spares Jaskier one last look. The man’s knuckles are white as he hangs on to the granite, keeping his legs underneath himself as he breathes.

Go.

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