#--to their own home country or of a place they admire and appreciate even if they themselves don't live there

[hollowsart]

"Pokemon region based on the Nordic countries" "Pokemon region based on more of Europe like Italy" "Pokemon region based on the rest of the US" "Pokemon region based on Mexico or Canada (unfortunately with people making racist stereotypical jokes)"

ok but where's the regions based on more south-east asian countries? the regions based on southern american countries? or the regions based on places within the african continent? or even Australia? Russia?

I've seen a few African and Australian fake Pokemon regions, but not a whole lot. and when you do look into some fanmade regions of some of the ones I've listed (both the ones people HAVE made (ie mexico or canada) and the conceptual ones (ie australia or russia)) you will unfortunately find a lot of stereotypical joke characters and Pokemon.

I would like to see some more genuine and sincere love letter fake regions made based on/inspired by those real world locations. Whether Nintendo themselves would make those official at some point or not, it doesn't matter, cuz making one as a fan can be a wonderful outlet of expressing your love and appreciation for those places whether you're from there or not (I'm not from any of the countries or continents I've made regions for (outside of Tolba cuz I'm American and it's an American region), but I have a great love and respect for the cultures and countries I've turned into Pokemon region concepts so far: Candora, Ikaya, Volya, Magnia, (the unnamed wip korean one))

I've done quite a bit of research delving into various bits of facts and lore and more about these places (especially Russia/Volya) to help me build up the world and even come up with some of the fakemon I have to fill that world up with.

[yojeongin]

I remember everything | j.jh

→burnt-out writer!jaehyun x host f!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, summer fling, found home, strangers to lovers to strangers again, missed connection, 80's au

synopsis: jaehyun didn’t think meeting you in that quaint lonesome countryside town would come in between him and writing something hopeful and lively in contrast to all of his gloomy work. in fact it was a blessing to have someone help him navigate the foreign country. yet life always has something up its sleeve no matter how soul crushing.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mentions/implementations of poor mental health, abusive higher ups, mentions of bad parenting, unprotected sex.

wc: 28.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: summer is gone and I tried posting this for the past 2 months so here is an ode to the place that inspired it all.

The contents of the box had been sitting unwrapped for what felt like an eternity after recalling last week’s events. The miscellaneous items your family sent were a recurring sight but it was rare that Ollie sent you anything besides his letters. 

What disturbed you most is his choice of item. Those bold scripted yellow letters mock you. You weren’t upset with him, you could never be upset with him. You know it’s not his doing, that he was put up to it. What upsets you is the resurfacing thoughts you had hid away in the vault of your memory years ago when you remained naive and to your disgrace revived with one detail.

Courage was the last thing in you. It surged through, more so forcibly, perhaps even masochistically. That seems correct because the second you open to the first page, images you believed you would never see, fly out, reminding you of a life that you can only describe as a daydream.

Every single image had something written in the back of it. You attempt to refrain from reading each note. With no avail, the loops of his handwriting draw you in as much as his piercing gaze and the smile you still dream about – those dimples you can’t forget no matter how much you now look at them on someone else.

There’s a folded letter slotted before the dedication page. It smells like him and you can’t help being transported to the summer you met him. The pleasantly strong cologne you could smell even in the masses of stench when cleaning the pen. Or through the window you two sneaked kisses at night. 

You don’t want to cry, you truly try not to, yet the waterworks flow when you finally focus on the dedication page of this damned book. 

‘To the life I needed all along… I remember everything.’

Jaehyun remembers with fondness the tranquility of what he considers home. The warmth that filled his chest with every waking moment he spent in that beautiful quaint village. And now looking and thinking back at it, that fondness muddles with the pain in his heart. That’s not what he wants nor needs, that’s not what he came here for.

Jaehyun could get behind it, it was nice. He immediately got used to the cool breeze which felt more like a chilly autumn rather than the grueling summer. He could definitely get used to the smell of wood burning from stoves and chimneys that indicated locals began their day. Similar enough to the rough housing from goats and sheep’s bleats to roosters for them to shut up, that the sun was enough of a wake up call. 

Fairly loud, not nearly as much as the city. It was one thing to admire the beauty outside of his temporary residence. Bougainvillea vines, flamboyant and bright, purloining his attention to let him know they were the star of the show, overshadowing any other house around.

Jaehyun needed something and all he knew was that he had to escape the constraints of his overpopulated and 24/7 bustling city that has cursed him to hell multiple times for not giving it a heartfelt ovation. How could he when he’s been shown nothing but hatred from it since he stepped foot in that hell hole?

Things should be different here, he knows that – he’s been shown. 

His taxi driver spoke idly about his day. Describing the breakfast his wife had made before he left. His daughter had visited to drop off their grandson while she went to work at the local market but in the process the kid had fallen down the steep steps claiming all he wanted as comfort was to spend time with his ‘Tito’. So there he was making rocket sounds and hammering the glove compartment with the pale sun-eaten toy car that caused his fall. In the process, turning back to Jaehyun asking if he liked dishes he had never heard of before that the kid didn’t like himself.

Jaehyun remembers it well. 

How can such a beautiful place bring him agony? 

He wanted to stray away from those pessimistic feelings that had shackled him for years, tainting every single one of his pieces. When his publisher and manager told him it would be best to go somewhere he’d know nothing about his world, to have time to think about a new story, he was the first one to say goodbye, muttering under his breath that he wished he’d never see them again. Jaehyun was elated to know he was given a golden ticket out. 

The past few launches and expectations had been hectic. Drowning him with stress and though many would think being a successful writer at such a young age was all fun and games, they'd think otherwise when your team is hollering in your ear daily to come up with new content and critics claiming you’ve yet again failed to provide anything meaningful besides pretentiousness. 

Jaehyun is tired of that dark monotonous and consuming cycle they’re forcing him to be in. So he’s hopeful and excited to see what this beautiful rural village can bring him. Hopeful that it’ll break those shackles of misery that cling to him until his ankles bruise and bleed. Hopeful to find meaning to this life that he’s been searching for. 

Struck with awe throughout his entire trajectory down the cobble and dirt-filled path from midtown to the house, the animal noises he had managed to drown became louder upon pushing open the metal door, growing wary. When he finally crossed the threshold he was met with the image of someone tussling with a ram, enough to get tackled and Jaehyun can only explain that feeling as freight.

That was the first time he met you.

From far away and with his feet grounded in fear, the fear you didn’t have regardless of all those rammings. That must’ve hurt, Jaehyun thinks so. How could it not? The beast came in charging three times, each making the impact seem worse. Twisted horns able to bruise the skin of your thighs.

Every step closer increases his shock. Muffled groans and curses from you mixed with laughter from your grandfather that stood and watched. Neither of you blame him, being the victim of that damn thing at 80 had caused irreparable damage to his hip. There’s nothing he could have done. At best he mangles the rope beside the stake, swinging it in hopes of getting it off you. 

Jaehyun felt inutile. He had no experience with animals nor with any labor besides what his father would drag him into. It’s not his fault he became a writing prodigy. His brute strength was useless if he was too scared to jump into the pen to help you. 

It was more shocking when a scrawny boy in a simple white tee, dusty jeans, heavy work boots just as muddy had pushed through him. Yelling something he couldn’t understand but later found it meant “Get the fuck out the way!” He didn’t mean to be malicious but he was scared himself. Jumping over the pen’s fence and pulling the damned ram off of you, he slaps its rear as a form of discipline. It amazes Jaehyun how effortless he made it look.

Finally free and things having calmed down, Jaehyun saw the elderly man seize his laughter. Genuine tears slip from his eyes. He was scared, truly scared it could have been your end. Having experienced it himself, he couldn’t help both sympathize and feel guilty. You and the kid reassured him it was fine. It wasn’t a first but your grandpa wouldn’t hear it, sighing as he continued to sob. 

Jaehyun later found that he was insanely sensible. Laughing things off to calm himself to eventually break down.

In attempts to ease his pain, you had sent the young boy to fetch your grandpa a coke and some bread. 

Nowadays, Jaehyun consumes those items whenever he grows scared 

Making your way with a limp that your grandfather mimicked due to his own attack and age, Jaehyun finally approaches you both, voice slightly quivering.

“Are you alright?!” Jaehyun quips, your head turns to him un-amusedly. Cautious but relaxed for whoever’s sake. “Yeah… it’s not the first time.” You try to smile at the stranger who is obviously not from the village inside the premise of your grandparent’s home. It only dawned upon you who he was when you noticed the pristine suitcases in his hands. Holding the handles like a lost victorian count in search of a new start in the bustling dirty city – despite the contrast.

“You’re the new tenant, right?” You ask, limp finally gone after something cracked. Jaehyun winces, amused with the nonchalant tone in your voice; he nods fervently. “Yeah, um, I can pay for a few months up front if you don’t mind.” Neither of you had noticed that both had stopped walking, your grandpa already in the house, leaving you to speak with the young and attractive man before you.

“Months?”

Jaehyun nods. “If you don’t mind or have another tenant.” He feels sheepish; confident in your eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s been open for months.” 

It’s amazing to him how you’re acting like you didn’t almost need a ride to the nearest hospital. Seeing the limp gone and crouching down to pick up a bucket full of dry corn kernels like nothing. He could have believed everything he saw didn’t really happen. 

It’s recurring if he thinks back to it, how everything felt so fleeting and surreal. He despises and feels it mocking him daily.

Following you around like a lost puppy while you sprinkled the ground with those kernels, he took note of the expression on your face. You’re still in pain, it’s written all over the movements you make. He rules you’re ignoring it to not seem ill before him or specifically to reassure your grandfather. 

Jaehyun has a strong image in your eyes. It would crumble with just about anything and you felt comfortable figuring that out. Just like it has done now, with chickens rushing and flooding the area to gobble down their meal. Jaehyun was startled and scared they’d peck him in the process. 

You try not to laugh despite the giggles leaving in spurts. Nearing the kitchen door, you stop in your tracks to look at him. “Don't worry about the pay, it won't be necessary.” It troubles him and this time he won’t hold his thoughts. Well, he wasn’t going to but as soon as his lips parted, the sprint door opened, showing a much shorter and pudgier older woman. He reckons that’s your grandmother so he smiles and greets her accordingly. 

She accepts it, returning the favor before going back to business in handing you the bowl full of pepper seeds and stems to feed the chickens. That left him and your grandmother alone, inviting him to the kitchen.

He studied the kitchen upon crossing the threshold, admiring the huge chimney in the right corner, soot covered it along the boiling metal bucket of water. There was a chair in front of it, one of those school chairs that cling onto your hair until it’s off your scalp. 

A metal cabinet in between the entrance door and the hallway. It’s dusty, showcasing fine china that was never used. He found the cracks above the very tall ceilings the most enchanting, all leading to portraits above the hallway’s threshold. Trajectory and lineage demonstrated through the years. Most recently: one of you with your diploma. 

Beautiful. Utterly beautiful, he thought.

“Come, I’ll show you around.” 

The tour was simple, the hallway that connected the main room and kitchen was a room in itself. Privacy wasn’t really an option within these walls but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one sleeping in the main house.

All he had to know about this house was that it was an old canteen that your grandmother’s father bought for her as a wedding gift. The hallway had a bed your grandfather slept on, a couch he sat to watch the TV propped on top of a dresser in the main room –where he’d join him often– and a door that led to the guest’s area.

Despite the open concept, she didn’t show him the room where you and her slept in. He caught a glimpse of a door to the only restroom in there –restroom with a window he would spend his nights at often–, a vanity you both filled with expired products, and two beds on opposite sides. He figures the one with a pristine Garfield plush was yours. 

Jaehyun felt the clarity of finding home within these few minutes. It was summer and the house was freezing without a clunky AC unit, he was in heaven if you asked him. It felt cozy and he liked that it wasn’t stuffy like his apartment back home, it felt like love. Cold, unspoken care and love.

The tour ended by the time both reached the guest area. The door was open after you swept but things never lasted clean here, the entrance full of dust again. Your grandmother looked tired and apologetic that she couldn’t continue, reassuring him his room was fine, warranting her to yell your name and rushing to her side.

She asks you to show him, motioning for him to follow you with your head. It felt like a full circle when you both hopped down the step from the house to the courtyard. He looked at the threshold he entered through, the door was closed now, decorated with flowers made out of dust, crafted by Ollie when he had free time. Your grandfather sat on a chair near the pen with the young man, eating his bread and smoking a cigarette that he pretends to hide. 

Following you, Jaehyun took notice of the mountain of rocks and flowers near his room. A monument to a holy being he had only seen a few times. It was beautiful, vibrant flowers in comparison to the rocks. Some cactus and critters roam on small trinkets and a river flows up and down each rock.

Jaehyun finds himself behind a wall of jacarandas which cover the entrance to his room. The door unlocks with a screech, Jaehyun, hopeful it was just as inviting as the home only to be shortly disappointed when it felt warm inside and the walls maintained a darker hue. It was newly made, it lacks love.

Sensing his hesitance, your voice aims to distract him. “It’s not much, the bed is new if you must know. My uncle should bring in the TV but in the meantime you have free reign to the boombox or the kitchen’s.” Apologetic smile decorating your face. “You can open the window if it gets hot, Ollie is fixing up the fan. Feel free to go into the house, we don’t mind.” You hope that will help his decision, you’d hate to see him leave.

He wants to thank you with the words stuck in his throat, something you noticed well enough that intensified the feeling that clogged your own. “Um, yeah… New bed, the lamp and main light work, window opens, and you have your own personal bathroom. Unfortunately, the boiler is still very old fashioned so you will have to warm it or boil some water in the chimney to shower.” You hope that repeating yourself will convince him, restraining yourself from begging.

It has its flaws but he has decided not to care. “I’ll take it. It’s still $130 for the month, right?” He smiles boyishly, putting down his suitcases. It gives you a sense of tenderness and relief. You want to sigh and smile, giggle with appreciation. “Don’t worry about that, the room is yours.” You hand him the key, that’s the best you can manage.

His lip slightly juts out and eyebrows furrow with your words. “What do you mean by that? Please, I insist.” He turns to you, taking a step closer, forcing you to bite the inside of your lower lip. “I can double it if you prefer.” He pleads, head tilting to the side with wide eyes. It’s not intentional, he’s unaware of the effects he has on people. He’s scared you’re tricking him to not keep the room, to give it to someone else. Almost like you aren’t finding his presence enjoyable. If only he knew how much you would love for him to stay. 

“It’s not that, trust me.” You walk towards the door, avoidingly. “It’s nice to not be alone. To have someone else around.” Your eyes don’t meet his, he understands. Letting it go, he thanks you in a whisper. “By any chance can I use your phone?” He asks in attempts to change the atmosphere. 

Apologies fill your eyes like previous conversations. “It’s off until Monday.” It’s Wednesday. 

“There’s a little store a block or two from here, not far at all. You can leave from either side, it’s flamboyantly yellow so you won’t miss it.” His excursion to find this place alone will say otherwise. “The name is painted on with neon green, ‘Gaby’s’ it’s called.” You laugh, looking at the expression on his face. He thanks you and follows behind the exit of the room, parting ways. 

Despite the rundown homes and slight deterioration here and there, Jaehyun liked the tranquility and uncertainty in pertinence to the weather. One second he is granted with the warmth of vitamin D, the other he is threatened with the smell of wet dogs. This town had it all, yet none of it interfered with the breeze that calmed him as his hair waltzed around, singing in his ear that he was in the right hands, finally at ease. 

You were right about not missing the store. He can laugh now – he did when taking the final corner, being met with what he felt was covered in buckets of highlighter ink. It was almost comical how opposite the owner was from her lively store and home.

“Good morning.” He mutters, “What are your rates for long distance calls?” She looks at him, pulling out a booklet from the phone company, arms working like it’s a chore. 

“How far?” “Overseas.”

She looks at him through lashes, sighing, flipping another page. 

“$3.56 per minute.”

Jaehyun’s eyes bulge out, nodding frighteningly. The process goes accordingly: she hands him the phone, writes down his name and the location before looking at him to dial on that old dinky home phone. The wires are sticky from tape residue with some edges popping out. It was her mother’s from 1957 but she loves it more than her third born.

He rotates the wheel, hanging up one or three times until he finally gets it. When the other line finally picks up, she starts a timer. “It’ll be quick.” He mentions. “Take your time.” She smiles.

“Hello? Hellooo~.” The voice on the other line calls out, ready to hang up, a pair of blondes far more important than this are waiting for him. “Hyunjoo?” Jaehyun asks, hand clasping the bottom of the phone. “Yeah? Who is this?” His words sound slurred, not enough to call him drunk.

“It’s Jaehyun.”

An eruption of laughter and greetings is heard in the background, smiling at how welcoming it felt, although strange. “Jaehyunie! How are you finding it there? Fun?… You know when Jude showed me the pictures I thought you were crazy for choosing that… place! Do you think you can hold out long?!” He laughs diminishingly, Jaehyun’s smile falters, his heart aching as it usually does when it comes to Hyunjoo. 

He clears his throat, standing straight. “It’s great, I really like it so far and I’ve only seen the house.” He musters a laugh. “Listen, long-distance calls are expensive so I think we should only communicate through letters, okay? I just wanted to call to let you know I was fine.” He’s ready to end the conversation here. It didn’t start how he wanted it and a reminder of his actuality is not what he wants.

“No… no, now wait a minute!” It wasn’t Hyunjoo on the line anymore but Jude, his manager who was far more sober than his publisher. Some tussling and grunting here and there on the other line, Jaehyun sighs looking at how quickly he was pushing three minutes already. 

Eventually Jude got through, scolding the drunkard. “Now what do you mean you won’t call? Don’t be dumb, I need to hear from you!” He bites onto his cigarette, scolding Jaehyun like a small kid, like the child he pretends is his. “It’s too much, Jude. Plus, the house doesn’t have a phone right now so you can’t reach me.” His foot bounces, scoffing like a petulant child proclaiming independence from their family. 

Jude went on a tirade about how it wasn’t good for Jaehyun to go cold on them but the younger one wasn’t hearing it. The entire premise of this trip was to forget about them all so why won’t they let him? “Okay too much time, too much money, bye!” Jaehyun cuts the conversation short, giggling as the yelling got louder. Seizing when the timer hits six minutes and thirty-seven seconds. 

“$24.92.” A wide smile decorates the owner’s rotund face, sticking her hand out. Nothing left but to sigh and hand her the money. 

Jaehyun takes this opportunity to explore the village, mesmerized by the intricacies of carved ornate decorations onto walls and doors. In awe with the obvious distinctions between newly built homes and colonial ones he found far more attractive. Architecture was not his only interest, not when the mocking tango of scent swirls drag him to the plaza. Taunting him with delectable treats and meals at every corner and hall.

If he wanted to fall further in love, then the market currently taking place should do. Colorful carps and music from corner to corner, swaying him through the fabric made halls. Jingles of welcomings and hollering flood the ears of every passerby. Whether he wanted fresh produce, flavored shaved ice, fruit cocktails, clothes, or even toys, Jaehyun could find it all. It reminded him of the swap meet he encountered with his friends once when living in Connecticut years ago. This was surely far more inviting and lively. 

Through his trail around the halls, Jaehyun came to a halt upon seeing you standing before your grandfather on the bench your grandmother’s family had donated. Worry filled your face but the older man’s laughter was far more deafening and comforting. An internal warmth forces your head to turn, spotting him immediately for your eyes to meet.

“Need help?” Jaehyun offers embarrassedly, you deny. Your grandfather is receptive despite your light scolding. “It’s fine, really.” You try but both men insist. “Do you know how to repair cars?” Your grandfather asks, Jaehyun shakes his head apologetically, all which prompts your grandpa to huff and shake his own head.

“The car broke down.” He’s met with another of your apologetic smiles, as if he’s the one being wronged and not you and your grandfather. “I’m just going to finish off the shopping, mind giving him an eye?” You ask Jaehyun, the first favor to be exact and he couldn't be more elated to not feel useless.

It’s shut down by the older of the three, complaining and almost throwing a tantrum over how he didn’t need a babysitter. It wasn’t completely wrong, the entire village knew him so watchful eyes were all around, it’s not like you couldn’t trust him to be on his own. “No, no. Matter of fact, help her with the bags. Go on, look at how heavy they are.” He scolds Jaehyun, throwing away any unfamiliarity out the window. That’s one thing about him, he’s too trusting. 

Like a child in between parents having an argument, Jaehyun didn’t know who to listen to. Fortunately you give up and sigh, motioning with your head for him to follow you. He took a handful of bags from your hand, some left in the care of your grandfather that was well situated on the bench.

He gave you both his blessing, shooing you off to embark in an awkwardly silent walk with nothing but the blaring music vendors played to fill that emptiness. He had so much he wanted to ask, to say, to know what you could teach him about the village or if you knew how he could travel to neighboring ones. He was giddish and that’s all that took for you to turn to him with a smile.

“Quite a bad host, aren’t I? I didn’t even introduce myself.” You giggle, stopping at a stand. “It’s okay, I didn’t either, I’m sorry. I’m Jaehyun.” 

“Y/n,” You give him a quick glance, taking a bag from a vendor. “What are you doing here, anyways? No one comes here for pleasure.” Jaehyun could tell more words hung on the tip of your tongue, ones you swallow down. He didn’t know how to answer. If someone else asked him, he’d mention how he wanted some inspiration, to see what he could bring into fruition but with you his sincere words threatened to spill. 

How could he mutter: “I think I hate my life and those in it, so my manager and publisher shipped me off somewhere I’d be far from that world. I think they just wanted to get rid of me but it’s what I wanted all along…”

“Oh?”

Shit. Just like that. 

“I-I… I didn’t mean to say that.” He scolds himself. This had never happened before, what the hell was that?! Your laughter doesn’t help and he’s scared you’re laughing at his problems. He doesn’t want to believe someone like you could be this cruel.

“It’s okay.” 

That’s not reassuring. “It’s okay. I hated where I was a year ago too, so I was also shipped here.” That’s comforting– somewhat. 

Your shoulders shimmy as you pay for the produce, walking towards another stand. “Granted, my aunt got sick. She was my grandparents' caretaker but it was getting worse and I took the role.” From the depths of your pocket, you pull out some pumpkin seeds, handing him a few for him to crack, not counting with the coating of salt to scald his tongue. 

“She comes back here and there to check in and help but eventually she has to go back for constant checkups. I hadn’t found a job right out of college so this was my next best option and I like it – far more so, I think.” A sincere smile adorns your face; this was comforting.

Things went far more smoothly after that introduction. He told you about his books and what he wanted to do here. He told you about how miserable he felt and how abusive the city seemed to be towards him. You told him that you missed your city but the reality of facing adulthood in the area was weighing down on you. He figured this was your reality escape and although grim on your end, he felt ecstatic for himself. He felt like he finally found exactly what he needed.

The conversation went well with a few laughs here and there until reaching full circle with cups of shaved ice in a bag to take home and yours in hand. Bliss was momentarily gone when you reached the bench and didn’t spot your grandfather. Regardless, it didn’t take long for a seller to let you know his nephew gave him a ride. 

These instances made Jaehyun appreciate your gentleness for your grandparents. Although aware of how you try to hide your emotions from him, the guard falls when it comes to them. It’s admirable.

Noise didn’t break the bubble of silence you remained in until entering the kitchen where your grandfather was sitting at a table already, your grandmother making his coffee while Ollie tired and sweaty relaxed by the door, munching on a candybar he bought when getting the fright remedy. A token of appreciation from your grandfather for the cigarette.

“We didn’t see you, I almost had a heart attack.” You mock reprimand, a smile setting on your face seeing the older man safe and sound. No matter how hard you try to act angry, seeing him eat the rest of his bread while waiting for lunch calms you down. “I’m the old one here, save the ailments for another sixty years.” he cackles, Jaehyun beginning to find comfort in your grandfather’s ability to find humor in anything.

“I think our guest might want out already.” He teases, sneaking a piece from Ollie’s candy. The boy doesn’t protest, doing the same with the shaved ice you brought. Jaehyun felt his ears warm up, nervously denying it with no avail as your grandpa kept insisting with that same laugh. Dying when your grandma scolds him to leave Jaehyun alone.

Jaehyun giggles quietly, shaking his head. “Please believe me. I think it’s beautiful so far.” Your grandma hums, the one to speak is Ollie. “There’s nothing here. What’s beautiful about it?” He shrugs with a scowl. “He hasn’t seen the other towns, give it time, Ol.” You intervene, forcing him to taste test the rice.  

“Well, what if you and Ollie, whenever he can, show…”

“Jaehyun.” You help your grandmother, playfully glaring at the young boy for feedback on the dish. The elderly give each other a quick glance while Ollie makes a mocking thumbs down when he knows the smile on his face says otherwise.

She nods, scooping a spoonful of lard into the pan. “Why don’t you and Ollie show Jaehyun around after your duties. I doubt he wants to stay all hours here.” Jaehyun doesn’t know how to feel. He’s embarrassed, he’s also bashful and feels imposing. “It’s okay, I can manage. I don’t want to overstep.” He nervously chuckles, ears brightening.

“Okay.” You shut him up. He turns to you, silence deafening yet comforting, even when you finally lift your head to look at him, nodding. “It’s okay, just let us know what you want to see.” You’re much calmer than he is, it causes his body to tense despite being thankful with how inviting you are. How inviting you all are, he thinks he can see himself here for longer.

“Thank you.” He meets your eyes with a smile, thankful and glad. It’s reciprocated, knocking down the nonchalant act.

The first outings don’t go past the premises of the village. With planting being the main priority, neither you or Ollie have time to take him anywhere. The younger spent his days working the tractor, taking your grandfather up and down as his mentor despite his own father being there. 

Jaehyun tried to help once but was booted by both men and their laughter. He won’t fault them, he almost ruined a row of freshly planted beans and if he was to learn anything throughout this trip, he’d learn that any grain and imperfection was important enough to ruin the entire harvest. Instead he was left to pavement clearing, making sure no rocks or debris got in the way of vehicles.

The following week he had been left to his vices at home. You had apologetically told him they found assistance and he should enjoy his trip at home. Although there was nothing left to do, not for him at least. Your grandmother wouldn’t let him lift a finger in the kitchen and she didn’t like his cleaning style, leaving it to you if she was busy. 

Ollie had fixed the fan by now. The new motor made the room freeze, mimicking the room temperature of the home. Cold enough that Jaehyun preferred to leave the window open despite the crawlers that woke him at night. Now he contemplates whether he should turn the fan on or sleep with cotton filled eardrums. 

Jaehyun lays in bed, bored and antsy for something to do. The sound of your arguing with animals overpower the boombox next to his head, melodies he didn’t understand.

The fountain pen on his hand never felt far heavier, a sign that he had nothing new to produce. No, the only thing his hand mustered to write was the noises you made. Whatever pertains to you.

“Tutt-tutt.” “Cluth-cluth… No, Constance! Don’t peck me!” “Behhh, behhh! Here, what a cry baby.”

Jaehyun found joy through you and your acts of love.

“Meow, meow, meow! I can do that too! I already fed you, Fina! Gluttony is a sin, you know.”

Days went on like this, it’s repetitious but he doesn’t complain. Past times he’d think what he’s doing now was all he wanted but a mind never rests and his body is antsy for new experiences. He no longer wants to lie and feel the breeze rush through the window to coddle him, forcing the sheer white curtains to dance around for his attention.

Jaehyun tucks away his journal, buttoning up his shirt and slipping on the work boots he bought with only four days here. Full of glee and excitement he bought them to help your grandfather. He reckoned if he was going to get down and dirty then he should be dressed accordingly. 

With pep to his step, Jaehyun makes a beeline towards the pen. What used to be barking of unfamiliarity turned to a simple bark for attention, received with wagging tails. He made sure to pat their heads until reaching the fence, looking at you conversing with Camila, the donkey. 

“Aha and what else did he do?... No! You should’ve kicked him straight in the leg, Cami. He can’t talk to you like that!.” You nod and hum at her playfully, received with brays and nods. Jaehyun doesn’t know what you’re talking about but he’s glad that you’re having fun.

New hay had been brought in the morning, far more greener and fresh which left the old hay to be moved around for maintenance. In the process of such, strays found themselves near the dogs, enough to crunch under his step. Like a deer caught in headlights, Jaehyun stops, ears reddening by the whip of your head and Camila’s blaring bray.

“Hi…” He mutters timidly, cause of your smile. “Hi.” You reciprocate with the softest welcoming. He takes the initiative to approach you, standing a few feet behind. Neither say anything, amused with Camila’s treacherous ways in leaving you to gain his attention. Head bumping onto his hand to mimic the pats he left on the dogs.

Pleased she throws a kick, sending old hay flying towards the lambs and goats that reproach her action. You share a giggle, forcing you two to give each other a quick glance. “I think she likes you.” You mention, “I like her too.” He replies, petting her ears, as red as his. “Well don’t feed her ego, now. It’s already through the roof.” You teasingly scoff, another airy laugh leaves him. 

“Don’t be harsh, I think she needs it. I mean, I don’t know what you two were talking about just now but it seems like she needed her confidence there.” He smiles at you, taking her face into both hands. Your groan makes him wink at Camila, thankful that he’s found something to converse with you. “Her and Ollie–” Camila brays, removing Jaehyun’s touch from her.  “They have such an intense hate-love relationship that his name throws her off, so I’m giving her advice on how to deal with it. Right, Mila?” Understandingly, she nods, seeking your attention again.

“Granted it’s all made up, she’s a little jealous but with you here I think Ollie should take the role.” She brays again, aiming to bite your hand. You get away just in time, sticking your tongue out at her. Jaehyun receives the image with laughter, his chest filled with joy.

He shakes his head, petting hers to calm her down. “No, I don’t want to be responsible for their failure.” You nod, picking up a metal rake. “Mind if I help you? It’s getting boring there…” He’s ashamed to admit it. You sympathize with him, after all when you used to visit you often fell in his shoes.

“Alright, a heads up, this will be messy work.” He nods obediently, eyes shimmering with their natural gloss and the sun’s reflection. 

Darn him and his cuteness! 

Blinking the thought away you hand him a broom and the rake. “Here, hold these while I tie up this  maniac.” Your eyes squint meeting those of the ram that tackled you when he arrived. His own mimicking yours, it was on and he knew it. 

With rope in your hand, test swings approaching the pen’s door, the beast starts to test the waters. Three…two…one! What ensues is a battle between both, Jaehyun trying his best to help. He envisioned that this rivalry is what Ollie and Camila had, he’d witness it a few days prior. The only exception that you and Whitey hated each other to the core. He never knew why. 

After a few falls and tugs here and there, you two managed to get him in the isolation pen. Scoffing and laughing as he settles on newly clean hay. While he relaxes, you both huff and hold onto the fence, wiping away any remnants of sweat. “Ready to work?” You question, Jaehyun felt like this was enough. Unfortunately it’s only the beginning.

With free and safe reign to go inside the pen, you lay out the map of where to go and be careful. The wall to the neighbors cooped the chickens. It was the time they laid eggs so cleaning it would be held off until a few days later. On the opposite side to the street, roosters had their own coups. 

“All you have to do is separate the poop from the hay, that’s what the rake is for.” Jaehyun figured you felt apologetic for the task as the look you gave him when presenting the room manifested itself onto your face. If you only knew that he’d never say no to you.

He mutters an ‘alright’ with his brilliant smile, reassuringly. “While you do that,” you watch him struggle, “I’ll clean this one.” Your voice slowed, concentrated on how to maneuver. You referred to the pen around a large cactus. He didn’t give it much thought when you went in, he also felt it wouldn’t be that hard, the livestock discard balls for goodness sake.

He had the confidence that died along the way he swept and raked. For small balls they were pungent and he wasn’t handling it well, the uncovered smell of piss added to it. You try not to laugh when he gagged or turned around so you wouldn’t see him cover his face but it was becoming hard.

Endearing is the word you’re thinking of, even when he perceives it as mockery that his face falls into a pout when he hears your laughter. “Please don’t laugh at me.” He practically begs, head lifting for a waft of fresh air before pushing old disgusting hay into a trash bag.

“I’m sorry,” A laugh escapes. “It’s good I’m the one here, I wouldn’t doubt Ollie tormenting you if it was him here.” Jaehyun agrees, the difference being that he wouldn’t care for Ollie's ridicule, he’d play along and try his best to improve. He cares for your opinion which is far different. 

“He did enough during harvest.”  “I heard.”

Silence befalls as you continue, the sun seems to have hidden behind clouds for the time being. 

“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time.” You broke the peace, his ears perking at the condolence lacing your voice. “I know you wanted an escape and I’m sorry I haven’t been of much help.” He couldn’t believe his ears. Why are you blaming yourself for something that should only matter to him? He has free will and range to get up and take the next taxi or bus to neighboring towns. You shouldn’t blame yourself for his decisions.

Escapism might not have come to him in the way intended but everyday has become a new experience for him. “Don’t… I promise that even picking up droppings is something new for me.” He rebuttals your claim, mirroring the same apologetic look you give him. “Y/n… I’ve been coddled all my life, this entire experience has been a new step for me and I feel like Bambi, positively.” He smiles, widely enough that it’s the first time you notice his deep dimples.

You sigh, unsure if it’s from relief, pash, or in between. 

“Yeah, okay… I was in your shoes too when I began to stay as a caretaker. I’ve done all of this when I would visit but it was not as intense as it is now. I don’t mind, I’m here to help. I have to.” It sounds melancholic and he’s not sure how to interpret it.

Avoiding it you look around to see he’s done a good job. You’re actually very well impressed, the words that were meant to leave your mouth surely were appreciative but they’re shoved back down your throat when you attempt to stand up. It’s almost like his presence dumbifies you. Like you forget the world around you, manifesting itself in your careless and clueless actions like resting your open hand on a cactus while trying to stand up just to bring him comforting words. 

Instead he’s met with your yelp as you prick your hand, head, and shoulder in the process of standing and tumbling down. Whitey’s karma has served you, he bleats mockingly when you keep on hurting yourself within the premise of his home. 

Instinctively Jaehyun rushes to you, concerned and scared of what this could illicit. He isn’t safe of Whitey’s wrath, not when he helped you and has decreed the young brunette is of your interest. Rushing to your aid, Jaehyun doesn’t count on one of the sheep to leave her droppings on the path he’s taking. Fresh and new, it wasn’t difficult for Jaehyun to find himself slipping straight into the cactus that has served your own aches.

They say laughter is the best medicine. Both you and Jaehyun attempt it when your eyes meet but the throbbing is far more intense that you synchronize in wailing. Loud and tuneless, enough to drag out your grandmother from the kitchen and force laughter out of Ollie and your grandfather who were arriving from their daily duties.

Camila doesn’t stay too behind in her own laughter. You fear all the livestock was against you two or perhaps rooting for you in the most vicious way. It’s rotten to know this is the start of your shared misery and ache.

The accident had forced your grandparents to make it up to you both the following day. Early in the morning your grandfather drove you all to a neighboring town. Ollie groggily dragged himself out of his home despite his father’s complaints that he was being a burden. You reassured him he was always welcomed, your grandfather scolded his dad. Yelling at him to stop trying to force ideas in the boy’s head. 

Jaehyun had taken in the scenery on his taxi drive although he’s convinced something is different this time. Aside from your grandfather teasing everyone when driving along the edge of the mountains, Ollie clinging to you ready to cry as if he didn’t surpass all of you in height.

It takes roughly an hour and a half to arrive at the destination and almost another to find parking they eventually found was free and available behind a cathedral. Everyone laughs at each other for missing it when minutes prior your grandfather was ready to turn the car around, hangry and annoyed at how this damn town was overcrowded with no parking spots.

For once he felt like an actual tourist, visiting the restaurant you all loved and gorging himself with the most delicious meal he’s ever tasted in his life – besides his mother’s cooking, of course! For reassurance, she will witness how happy he looked while eating through the picture you managed to snap of him.

After the meal, your grandparents attempted to walk for digestion but age made them give up as soon as you all reached the town’s plaza. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, you saw no problem with it, they’re together. All they asked was to bring them those donuts they loved dearly and a soda to share. Ollie took it in his hands to beat you to it. Now there you and Jaehyun stood looking at the elderly couple sat before you.

At the time it didn’t feel like a scheme but looking back at it, Jaehyun is sure you figured it out as well. 

Despite the accident, you both went back to the timidness that sheltered you both. Stolen glances and polite smiles when caught, stopping here and there to take pictures of the architecture and culture. He wouldn’t tell you, but a good portion were candids of you. You look so pretty that he could not avoid capturing the only remnants of you he could keep. 

Both try small talk, history pointers whenever reaching old buildings – most consisted of luring him away from hustlers. You’d laugh after every successful attempt and reward yourself with street snacks that he’d find too salty or too sweet, still delicious enough to risk getting scolded by his physician if it meant enjoying the wonders of life.

The day might have ended with shy conversations and laughs but both could testify that comfort is what surrounded you most. On his end he felt safe and secure, comfortable enough to laugh at anything you said because in whatever way he looked at it, your presence forced glee onto him. Warmth and comfort is what you would best describe it as and that’s what you have learnt care feels like.

Your grandmother began going easy on you after the accident and outing. You felt like a teenager visiting your grandparents again with how little she left for you to do and how she forced you to go out more often. Encouraging you to enjoy your summer as well while showing Jaehyun around.

Jaehyun is sure this was her way to make both of you appreciate the limited shared time. He’s thankful enough for it but bitter towards himself for losing some weeks at the start.

You began showing him around other towns. On times you went grocery shopping and he’d beat you to paying for it (his form of appreciation), he’d throw in a peach or two. His favorite, you figured. 

At the neighboring market, he’d buy fridge magnets, five for the price of a large one. All which represented his favorite snacks he’s consumed during these days. You still remember teasing him for buying a mini replica magnet of a beer bottle. Later at home while rocking on a chair he showed you a layout of how he’d arrange them on his fridge. In the meantime, you helped him decorate the door to his room, enjoying the air the fan blew at both.

When it rained, Ollie forced both to dance under the cold drops. Enjoy life as you should, he justified. At night, he’d dragged you both to the night market. Showing Jaehyun his favorite drinks and laugh when you scold him for drinking like an old man with kidney issues. He would joke about you and Jaehyun being his parents and would even grab your hands to skip in between both when it was so easy for him to drag you down. Damn him and his tall genes.

He’d drag the joke far enough to reach home where your grandparents never missed the opportunity to throw in a “Take your brat with you.” whenever Ollie was available and you were to show Jaehyun around. Neither of you minded, Ollie was silent enough to let you two bask in each other’s presence and playful enough for you two to feel at ease and content. 

In another universe, this would reign true and not a fragment of a life you’re all creating that was never to bloom.

After three months the festivities had reached your village and vendors from all around the country settled by the plaza. Intrigued at first and fascinated by what they sold, poor Jaehyun fell victim to one of the home goods sellers. Spending a large amount buying your grandmother some pots, pans, a set of dishes, and stools as a token of appreciation. He went overboard but was happy to help, blinded by the cheap prices. Jaehyun should’ve known something was off, he knows you would have talked him out of it but you had been arguing with another vendor that they took advantage of the painfully obvious foreigner in the meantime.

When arriving home and seeing he had been robbed, you got ready to argue and force them to give him his money back. He protested despite being defeated and sad he was swindled. He convinced you but not your grandparents and Ollie. The three had taken matters into their own hands while you two fetched salt blocks to replace in the pen. By the time you got back, Ollie’s hair was far more ruffled than usual and his face red while your grandfather laughed, taking a sip of his beer, clanking it with your grandmother’s. On the kitchen bar, Jaehyun’s money was laid out. Every single cent and interest returned to him, money he used to invite all to dinner and dessert with a gift of their choice.

Ollie wore his tonight. Gleefully trotting through the threshold of the gate, careful to not scuff the boots Jaehyun gladly bought while singing to gain attention. Jaehyun laid on bed, scribbling his thoughts on his days, one-liners here and there and far more of the noises you’ve made. In addition the lyrics to the song Ollie sang before your grandmother told him to stop before he ate a fly.

Fireworks had been going off all day and neighbor’s music loudened with their gates open. This wasn’t new but it seemed to be far more intense today out of all days. “Why aren’t you ready? You’re not going to the fair?” Ollie questions, out of breath and frantic to see your grandparents sitting on their chairs enjoying today’s weather with a cup of soda in one hand and pastries in the other. 

Talks about a fair had not gone in deaf ears throughout the past three weeks but Jaehyun paid it no mind when he saw that no one else seemed concerned – besides Ollie. It seemed to be a big thing when he noticed more carps, games, and rides fully covering the plaza.

“Don’t think we will be going, Ol. Their knees hurt.” Your voice manifests itself, forcing Jaehyun to sit up and put away his journal. You had been doing some chores outside his room. Hanging laundry and watering the plants, the product of everything he’s written and attempted to draw today.

He follows outside, Ollie greets him, a mischievous smile on his lips forming an idea. “Why not? I’ll drive if you want! Do it for Jaehyun, he’s never going to experience this again.”

Ollie’s childish intuition strikes again, this time in the form of a gash against both of your chests. 

You both knew it was true but reality is what Jaehyun wanted to escape and you had made sure to enable him. It just so happens that you have fallen victim to it as well.

No matter, he said he wanted to stay months so it should still be far along in the future. You think so… you implore.

Perceptive is a word to describe your grandparents. Despite their ache they figure it is not as big as the one brewing in the depths of your conscious and heart. As best as they can, they agree with the younglin and head inside to get ready.

Ollie is ecstatic, he’s always been a fan of these things but now that he was of age, he could enjoy it more with a drink or two. Not to mention things like these are grounds for finding partners and like any town boy who hasn’t found one, he’s looking forward to it. That’s what he tells you and Jaehyun at least but he knows he’ll spend his night looking after your grandparents, far more giddy about you two together.

He had been smart enough to put cinder blocks early in the morning in a parking spot front and center from the fair, forcing Jaehyun out of the car to move and put them behind the car once he parked so no one would block them. Perfect was his plan that once everyone got out of the car, his friends that occupied a bench scattered like roaches to give their seat to your grandparents. Both elders find it comical seeing right through Ollie. 

Arriving just in time for the parade, all queen candidates drove around in their elaborately decorated transportation. Colors flying around similar to their presentation favors, many which ended up hitting both Jaehyun and Ollie in the head. The older of the two made sure to take pictures of it while Ollie complained, claiming he was glad he didn’t vote for whoever hit him. The new reigning queen didn’t appear until the end. It was far more of a social economic competition. Whoever paid more won therefore it wasn’t surprising when a queen from years prior won again.

“You should’ve signed up, you would’ve won, Y/n.” Ollie elbows you, received with an eye roll. “Right, Jaehyun?” That devious brat, always finding a way to make you miserable. You try not to turn to Jaehyun, yet his gaze is so intense that it forces you to do so slowly. His face, decorated with that usually wide smile that emphasized his dimples, eyes squinting in glee when yours finally meet his. Candidness and benevolence lacing his voice.

“Yes, you would have won, Y/n.” 

That was enough footing for Ollie to shoo both of you away, promising to take care of your grandparents while you had fun. Your attempts at protest are futile, your grandparents helping Ollie in his mission. Buying the three something to eat in the process before parting ways, promising it’ll be fast.

It’s not fast, it’s a brisk walk that both you and Jaehyun enjoy. Struggling to not lose each other within the masses going opposite or in the same direction. He jokes about feeling like a meerkat in a sea of gazelles, you laugh but he’s sure you don’t find it funny. At least he’s glad you humor him.

You entertain him through food. Buying tornado potatoes, plain and simple. He mentions having eaten these when he lived in Connecticut. You ask him about the state and what it’s like, you’re not too thrilled nor believe him when he says it’s boring. As an attempt to remove the connection, you drizzle hot sauce on one half of the potatoes. Scared but willing to try it, Jaehyun lets you feed him the first broken off bit. It’s enjoyable at first, soon his face blends with the lights behind him. Red and bright as he begins to cough. Now he will only think of this when it comes to the snack.

You both laugh at it, as an apology you buy him a drink. A piña colada for him and a michelada for you, it should work enough to ease both of your bashfulness. He couldn’t eat anything from the drizzled side, leaving those for you whilst he munched on the dry. Giving you sips here and there from his drink to cool down the fire in your mouth. He teases you for choosing a spicy drink when you’re eating far more spice, receiving him with an eye roll and “You don’t know what life is about.”

Finishing that, he dragged you to a game. You’d like to think he found it far more odd because of the mini stripper animatronics in the center of all the glass bottles but he reassures you the life-size gremlin doll pissing on people was more alluring – and disturbing. It didn’t stop him from attempting to win a decrepit pale Winnie the Pooh bear.

He had spent a good amount of time trying for it, towards the end he required your help. You had been nagging him throughout the entire game to not spend more money on the game, that it was most likely rigged but when it was your turn and managed to burst all bottles, then it became a skill issue. 

Jaehyun mopped about it, you figured the bear would bring him comfort. He held it for seconds to soon return it with a bright smile. You try rejecting it, he had been fighting hard for it so it was confusing why he didn’t want it. You thought it had to do with the principle of the winner takes it all; it wasn’t the case. 

He confessed he had wanted to get it for you and only felt bummed that he wasn’t able to but that you should keep it irregardless as a token of his appreciation and care for you, to give your Garfield some company. The moment would’ve been sweet if the booth attendant didn’t make that stupid doll spritz it’s faux piss your way, forcing you to flee while cursing him out with laughs in between.

That was the beginning of your journey through halls and carps, stepping out here and there to get on children’s rides that warrant glares from parents. Jaehyun joked about dragging Ollie so he could ride the caterpillar rollercoaster with him and have you take pictures of a father with his kid. Jaehyun is now playing along with the fantasy Ollie has created. You don’t know whether to laugh or let the ache in your heart manifest.

You end at the ferris wheel only a few feet away. In the process of calming each other’s laughter, the noises of people and music filled the silence. Comforting as the day you met, walking through the market and buying produce for that day’s meal. It makes Jaehyun think about how far you two have gone. How one little incident with a cactus has led to having the time of your lives nearing the highest point of the ride.

You’ve felt the warmth and softness of his touch. Felt his care and appreciation through every little act yet you yearn and crave for more from him. Your body and soul know there is more both can offer, although frightened that you’ve misinterpreted his lingering gazes and gestures.

“When I was younger my mom had decided that we would spend every summer with my grandparents and aunt. I hadn’t been here since I was five for her grandpa’s funeral so it meant nothing the first few weeks. The first year, even.”

Jaehyun turns, intrigued. “Then when my mom would make the long distance calls and send letters, my grandpa would joke around how I didn’t want to visit them at all – that I hated it here, similar to how he does with you. I didn’t hate it, I think I just wasn’t familiar with the lifestyle in comparison to back home where I don’t have to worry about if there’s hot running water.”

His hand inches closer to you. “In attempts to prove him wrong, I spent my time here helping him with the animals, going grocery shopping with him and my cousins and it drew me closer to this. After the second summer, we spent Christmas here too and the weather killed me but they seemed so happy that I joined.” 

Your laugh comforts him. He thinks about the times he’s attempted to help and failed your grandparents, it only dawns upon him that things take time and he shouldn’t dwell on them too much.

“Then in my last summer of college, I had taken an internship that promised a job right out of college– obviously it was a lie, I’m here.” You laugh bitterly. “I missed time with my family and my grandma ended up in the hospital. I felt so guilty the remainder of the year, even during winter break. I felt like it was my fault, that my absence was the small piece of the puzzle that could ruin it all.”

Jaehyun felt and heard the remorse in your voice, he felt the need to find a way to ease it with no avail, feeling as inutile as when the ram tackled you. It’s imprinted in his brain that no matter what, it will weigh on his shoulders that he’s not able to help no matter how much he tries.

“And I think the universe is funny and cruel enough that when the internship dropped me and said all vacancies were occupied, my aunt was the one to fall ill next. Forcing her back home with her own family. It was its way to make it up to me, as horrible as it sounds.”

You share a sigh, he takes your hand in his, reassuringly. You don't want comfort words, he knows that, he knows this is enough for you. “I think what I first felt when visiting is what you feel now with the exception that you actually have so much to do out there…” Jaehyun’s actions halt, lifting his head to look at your sorrow filled eyes.

He shakes his head, trying to convince himself and you. He clings to the delusion everyone helped create in hopes to be good hosts. He still has time, Jaehyun has time, he wants to believe it so please don’t shatter his joy so quickly, please!

“It’s okay, Jaehyun. You have to publish your book, we’ll always be here for you as they’ve been for me.” He’s not too sure how true that is. Life is never consistent nor forgiving, he’s learnt that in harsh ways. People’s care is conditional and based on time and familiarity, he’s been at the end of that stick.

Your hand takes purchase on his cheek, consoling him for what you have just said. You didn’t intend to cause this but you have to prepare yourself for what you’ve known all along. “I don’t think I want to go back and risk anything.” He mutters, eyes softening the longer he looks at you, the ride feels endless.

“You must… All there is for you here is inspiration.” They’re meant to comfort him but it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself that you’ll be fine when he leaves. Jaehyun’s lips part ready to speak, words muted by the fireworks going off. Midnight has hit, it’s a brand new day and it’s received with pyrokinetic colors that aim to diffuse the pain he feels.

They illuminate your face, a smile forming in awe of how pretty they look. Not as pretty as you, Jaehyun is sure of that the longer he stares with the same smile on his face you adore. “I’ve found the life I needed all along.” His touch on your cheek brings you back to him, dumbfounded with what he meant. Inquiries answered upon feeling his lips softly land on yours.

Hands softly cradle your face, eyelashes tickling your cheek as you get a taste of him. It’s so soft and tender that you want to be here for the rest of the night, drowning the noises around you. If you’ve felt heaven before, it doesn’t compare to being with him like you are now. 

The crowded path didn’t feel claustrophobic, like it was just you two in the sea of booths, fluorescent lights and fireworks. The music drowned, his grasp on you doing its best to keep you with him for whatever time is left for you two.

He hadn’t noticed at what point you both had gone back until Ollie stepped in between you two. “So? Did you like it?” The giddy young boy questions, a bottle of beer in his hand, compliments from his cousin – your grandparents with their own as well, watching. Jaehyun nods, glancing at you. “More than anything.” He smiles widely, hypnotizing dimples present. 

Ollie giggles, a chant as he jumps near your grandparents telling them something that neither of you manage to hear, distracted by the shocking ice-cold bottle shoved into your hands. Your grandfather had been talking to your grandmother, both laughing about judgments thrown at people around them. Mean, yes, but it’s not often that they bond about things anymore.

The elder’s leg had been bouncing as they talked, cackling in the process of drowning whatever was left in the bottle. Jaehyun took notice of this, turning to the group playing up on stage a few feet away. People around were dancing, some seemed to enjoy themselves, others not too much – the only thing that mattered was the ambient and showing face. 

Jaehyun approaches your grandpa, asking if he was having a good time. The older of the two nodded, responding by showing the new bottle Ollie handed him. You scold both of them to not drink too much but they shush you. “It’s a party, Y/n. Liven up.” Ollie laughs, alcohol having gotten into his stream, demonstrated on how clumsily he clinks his bottle with yours and everyone else's. “Come on, let’s dance instead.” Pulling you in for a quick little shuffle. He’s not a great dancer, he knows it. He also knows his joy brings joy to your grandparents and you’ll do anything for them to maintain it.

You entertain Ollie, dancing despite him having already stepped on you multiple times. Apologizing with whines and puppy eyes that make you laugh. You push him off after a while, helping your grandfather up so he could dance with you. He’s overjoyed, finally having the opportunity to do what he loves so much, a pity your grandmother is the opposite. She’s content enough with just watching.

Jaehyun smiles, laughing in glee at how the ambient fuels his emotions. His own body swaying ever so slightly, brain trying to formulate how to dance to music he’s never heard. He thinks he gets it, it doesn’t seem too hard but he could be proven wrong and become Ollie’s mirror.

Your grandmother, ever so insightful, watches with a glint of content with how well he has adapted to the culture. Although, far more interested in the way his eyes don’t leave you. His ears are red, brighter than the light illuminating the stage and the municipal office. Jaehyun may try to hide how he feels, you may try, but she’s older and wiser. She’ll always know when love is around.

“Go ask her for a dance.” She elbows him to catch his attention, Jaehyun had been holding your grandfather’s seat. The mention alone caused his ears to brighten, crimson migrating to his face. He tries not to smile, it so happens to be that his muscles are treacherous and they emphasize the lines of his smile, deepening those dimples you love. 

Jaehyun shakes his head. Convince her that it’s okay, that he would rather watch, something she won’t allow. “Don’t coward away. When’s the next time you’ll get the chance?” Jaehyun ignores the heavy meaning of her words, he prefers to ignore the reality that slowly creeps in. Regardless, he nods, taking in the other point of view. He thanks her with a smile, standing up to walk towards you. Sacks of nervousness weighing him down, making his hands sweat.

“Mind if I take her from you?” Jaehyun clears his throat, head tilting, pleading. The older man cackles, pure and utter joy that Jaehyun has made a move. Frantically he nods, agreeing by pushing you towards the brunette who seems just as ecstatic as your grandfather. Given persimmon, Jaehyun takes your hand in his. Awkwardly figuring out how else he should position himself.

You watch amusedly, hiding your smile by pressing your lips together as if your cheeks and eyes were not a dead giveaway. “What makes you think I wanted to dance with you?” You tease, correcting where his hands and feet should go. The smile you try hard to hide slowly creeps in. Jaehyun doesn’t mind exposing his own, giggling when you begin to lead. “What’s this then?” He plays along, moving his feet and knees according to what he had examined. Raising your shoulders in a shrug, you don’t hold back your smile, a giggle following. “A lesson.” 

The dance doesn’t go smoothly, you have to teach him between laughs, both yours and his with your family’s in the background but he manages. Even if you all think his dancing is horrible, as bad as Ollie’s, the younger one takes the opportunity to capture you two dancing with Jaehyun’s camera. If there’s something to remember, it is this night and the love that has finally come into fruition.

The flash blinds you, stopping you two from dancing and even though Ollie whines for you two to continue, you both claim your feet ache. It’s not a lie on your end but the coyness from your family seeing you with a potential partner is a bigger deal.

It’s past two in the morning, obvious in the way your grandparents hide their yawns from your view, hoping to not ruin your night further. “Want to go home?” You walk towards them, a hand on your hip and genuine concern on your face. They admit they are tired but don’t want to go home no matter how much you insist. Ollie offers to drive them home while you and Jaehyun stay back longer but you’ve been away from them this entire night that you cannot fathom the idea any longer.

Ollie and your grandparents can try to convince you with the same story about Jaehyun’s limited time but that wasn’t going to work now. No, you stick to your guns and manage to get them in the car. Ollie had drank far more than all of you so he wasn’t apt to drive, instead Jaehyun volunteered, something that had excited your grandfather the most.

After removing the cinder blocks and putting them back in the trunk, Ollie walks towards your window, bidding everyone goodnight. You nag him, worried that he was drinking too much. He receives you with an “Okay, mom!”, the same phrase he’s been throwing around ever since Jaehyun had reached a month’s stay. It managed to get a laugh out of your grandparents, even from you and Jaehyun but it didn’t change that you still lightly swat his hand. “I’m serious, Ollie. Don’t drink anymore, stay back a bit but not too late, Okay?” 

The worry in your eyes makes him relent, nodding before kissing your cheek goodnight and shaking Jaehyun’s hand. The interaction forced a smile on his face, every single aspect of your tenderness making him melt more.

As the moon is his witness, Jaehyun has fallen in love with this village and you. Gracious the stars are that once you manage to get your grandparents in bed and meet Jaehyun in the kitchen, the two of you quietly make your way outside with nothing but moonlight to illuminate you.

“Want some coffee?” You ask, fingers familiarizing themselves with the texture of those yellow walls. “Do you not want to sleep?” He laughs, taking those same fingers to familiarize with the tenderness of his lips. The action makes your breath hitch. 

“Perhaps…”

His eyes meet yours, inching closer to capture your lips in another tender kiss. His hands find purchase on your waist, your arms wrap around his shoulders. It’s sweet and soft, his tongue managing to slip in your mouth to waltz with your own. The soft muscle forces a delighted sigh, one that he swallows graciously.

When neither can hold it for much longer, you separate, smiling like two fools. “So no coffee, then?” You laugh, one he reciprocates with a nod. “Too bitter, not as sweet as you.” The flirtatious remark is received with a laugh.

“You’re so cheesy.” You claim. “It’s worth it if it makes you laugh – it’s what I like to hear everyday.”

Jaehyun’s expression is serious, the adoration in his eyes letting you know how he feels. He may not pin a word to it but you can see his yearning and longing. You try to be in the same cloud he is in, to ignore the dooming reality but you can’t. You appreciate his affection and you reciprocate it but you also don’t want to become delusional.

“Jaehyun…” Your head drops, avoiding his look. He thinks he’s done something wrong and it aches horribly. “Yeah?” He squeaks meekly, head moving in hopes to see your eyes, to understand how the atmosphere became so somber. “How serious are you about this? You know how things are an–” 

“Don’t… Please don’t bring that up.” He begs, eyes shutting, no longer in need to understand what you meant. “You can’t act like you don’t have a life outside of here. You may stay all you want but eventually you will go back – there’s more to life than this for you.” Your head lifts, vulnerability not as heavy as his.

He tries to drown out your words, this night has gone too well for things to fall off already. He doesn’t want it to be bittersweet. Sure he can stay all he wants until it’s time to publish his book but he will come back so why are you being so cruel to him?

“Nothing compares to this, Y/n.” He holds your hands, hoping his warmth lets you know how much you’re hurting him but also how much he loves you. You shake your head, a small smile of unbelievability. “You’ve been here for three months, that’s still fine and dandy. It’s not like truly living here.” 

His eyebrows furrow, refusing to listen. “But you still love it here. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.” His voice quivers, frightened that this is your way of ripping his heart out.

You sigh, squeezing his hands. “I do, I love it but I also think that I’ve been looking at this place through the same glasses you’re looking through. What I’m getting at is that, in the long run you’ll get bored, everyone I know has and they’ve left… Who knows, maybe even Ollie will leave and it’ll leave me here because no matter how hard I try to make a life out there, it doesn’t love me back.”

Jaehyun was perplexed, eyes scanning your face. He knows you’re projecting, that you don’t want to get attached despite already having done so, he hopes you could see inside him to understand that he doesn’t ever want to leave. He doesn’t want to leave you.

His hands cradle your face, kissing your eyelids, cheeks, nose, and lips for reassurance. “I can always come back. After publishing whatever I have in hand, I will always come back. You are the life that I needed all along, Y/n.” His whisper is heavy and sincere, the glimmer in both your eyes, evidence to what both feel.

Words don’t describe what you two feel, no matter how heavy they hang on your tongues. No, it’s best that you share it in another tender kiss that the stars and moon witness. Both end the conversation, convinced that the love you two port is stronger than the universe’s will.

Quick glances and kisses are stolen for the following weeks, everyone knows what both feel but it’s more exciting if you pretend as if this love is forbidden despite the encouragement and approval of your family. Ollie teases you two about the brewing romance, pretending to act like he didn’t say anything regarding it when you correct him that nothing is happening. It’s like a game for all of you, one that you all indulge in for the sake of excitement.

You had all agreed upon visiting a thermal spring this morning, the drive was somewhat long and it was best to arrive before other people did. Ollie was the most excited about it, he had begged his family to let him go for days until they agreed. It just so happens to be that the universe doesn’t often like to see him happy; you don’t appreciate that.

Ollie had arrived with a glum look on his face, saddened eyes when he sat in his usual seat next to the chimney. Jaehyun approached him with a cup of hot chocolate and a pat to his head. Your grandma didn’t take long to question the reason behind his state but he only sighed.

“They moved the pension collection to today. The offices will be closed until next month for remodeling so you two have to go in before the line gets long.” His lip juts out, looking at everyone with puppy eyes. 

You ruffle his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly. “We can go tomorrow, Ollie. Don’t worry…” You mimic his pout, his head rests on your hip, pressure tickling your hip bone. “No… Dad is taking me with him out of town for a few weeks to help with the ranch that hired him.” He doesn’t dare look at anyone. It’s not the first time he was taken to different places in the country but when they came back his dad usually kept Ollie locked in for a while until he became unbearable to keep in. It’s as if he relishes in your joint misery.

Jaehyun throws you a look, looking for ways to solve this crisis. He knows you don’t like the news, he hates them too. He’s grown so fond of Ollie that knowing he’s the first to go is causing a small turmoil in his chest. Sure, he may be back and Jaehyun will still be here but one never knows how things may turn out. 

“What if you and Jaehyun go? I have to take my grandparents for their pension so you two enjoy.” Ollie wishes things were that easy but his childish intuition fears that time is coming short and if you don’t spend more time with Jaehyun, he’ll feel guilty for whatever ending comes.

Ollie shakes his head, standing up. “No, it’s fine. You and him go. I’m going to take my dad anyway so I can take them too.” He attempts to smile even if he can’t. It dawns upon you that missing the trip isn’t his concern but not seeing any of you for God knows how long is what’s killing him. 

You try to deny, shake your head in protest. Jaehyun does so as well, it’s not that he doesn’t want time alone with you but knowing this is his last day with Ollie for a while is killing him. Your grandparents hadn’t said anything up until this point. They weren’t fond of swimming, they never did.

“Ollie is right, you two go.” Your grandmother spoke, standing to grab her purse. “I can’t leave you two, what if you need help?” You attempt and they protest, your grandfather jumping in by throwing in Jaehyun’s limited time. It seems they’re all far more in tune with reality than you two.

You don’t know how or when but they managed to convince you and Jaehyun to go. Both attempted to protest and cancel the trip all together but here you were, in your grandfather’s old and chipped red ford. The seats torn apart, a blanket hiding away its imperfections. The red leather of the dashboard hot under Jaehyun’s touch, its form of showing that you two being left alone was real.

That now you didn’t have to talk through a window in the bathroom to spend some alone time. You didn’t have to climb on the sink and hit your head on the roof just to see his face through the mangled chicken wire and be received by concrete flakes on your lips and eyelashes whenever you attempt to kiss through it. No, here you were able to hold hands and kiss without fear of being caught (even if it didn’t matter – everyone knew).

The roads were messy and bumpy, dirt flew all around which forced you to keep the windows rolled-up despite the sun’s rays being hotter than the actual weather. Worse off is that once he came out of the truck, a gust of cold breeze rained upon him. Showing him everything he had missed while struggling with heat and keeping dust out of your airways. 

It was a reward but also mockery, to him at least because you remained unphased, rejoicing on how lonely it was. “Reckon everyone is getting their pension, too?” You ask, hands on your hips, ripping some overgrown grass by your feet to make sure no venomous critters are around.

Jaehyun shrugs, letting his focus remain on his surroundings. It was amazing for him to see how deserted and destroyed this place was. Overgrown yellowing grass that stray cattle eat, ruins of houses from colonial towns signaling the fleeing of whoever had inhabited them before; your grandfather had later explained that the location was a town destroyed in the process of gaining independence.

What was prettier to him was the body of water he was here for. Multiple trees around, so green and alive in comparison to the remaining vegetation. The water is so clear and warm that he could see the steam rise the closer he got.

“Like it?” You question, to his side with towels on your shoulders. Jaehyun’s head whips, a smile on his face upon reaching for your hand, “It’s beautiful.” His fingers interlace with yours, camera in hand positioning it an arms length away when he takes the initiative to lean down and kiss you, capturing it all on film.

You shove him playfully, rushing to a dry rock where you can leave your possessions. He chases after you, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Your instinct to look away is something he does not miss and it causes a blush to creep up on his face.

He takes in the temperature of the water with his feet. Jumping back when he realizes it’s hotter than what he’s experiencing right now. “It’s not that bad.” You call out, pulling down on the bottoms of your dress swimsuit. Your smile softly falters when he doesn’t respond, rather his attention is set on how pretty you look.

The trees sway, leaving empty slots for the sunrays to seep through, illuminating you. Seemingly purposely done, to put you on a pedestal for him to look at with nothing else but admiration. That blush he had earlier rose again, one he’ll pretend is due to the water’s temperature.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, smile back on. Jaehyun approaches you with a shrug, shirt unbuttoned halfway. His fingers thread over the fabric of the straps, such a pretty lace decorated with satin red ribbon forming a bow at the front. “You.” He smiles, warm fingers touching your arms in hopes to feel closer than he already is in all senses. You don’t respond but he’s aware that the look you give him is fond.

Your hands mimic his, finding their way to his shirt and helping him undo the last few buttons, pushing off the linen to free his flesh and let it be kissed by the breeze – something you can only wish for. Once off you toss it to the pile of clothes and towels, cocking your head for him to follow you into the water. It’s glistening and steaming, soothing once his feet acclimate.

Silent sounds escape both, little by little submerging yourselves – your hands not letting go in any instance. “My mom and aunt loved to come here. They’re hypochondriacs – at least my mom is– always claiming a trip here was healing, holistic. Forcing my grandparents to put their feet in at least so the warmth would take away any aches.” Jaehyun could see how your free hand rubbed at your knees, mimicking their action. 

“Pretty sure they take from my grandma but my grandpa was more of a people pleaser so he’d tell them he felt much better just so they wouldn’t feel bad. I don’t really see how this can take away all your aches. I get that it can help temporarily but not permanently.” Your shrug and words may tell him so but Jaehyun can tell that your vigorous rubbing at your own joints was a form of subconsciously believing them.

“Maybe… It seems like a mutual interaction of comfort and understanding. Your mom and aunt try their best for their parents to feel better about their bodies wearing down and in turn they receive praise and appreciation from them.” 

Your hand stops its action, looking up at him with a hum. “I guess so.” You mutter, letting go of him to float on your back. “The writer in you just had to make it so philosophical.” he can hear the smile on your lips, your feet playfully kicking some water onto him to which he laughs, responding by splashing you too. Calling a truce when he was winning this battle.

As a way to comfort, he pulls you in for a hug. Your back to his chest, head resting on his shoulder and holding onto a railing to not float away far deeper. If it was for Jaehyun, he’d love to stay like this until it was time to go. For once in this entire trip you two have been truly left alone. No more sneaking kisses and late night talks through the bathroom window. It was just you and him an hour away from civilization with only the cattle as witness to the love you two didn’t speak about but embraced. 

There is nothing more Jaehyun wants than to have more time with you. He wonders if things would have been different if he had fallen for you much earlier or if you had. He’s not fully sure how much you love him, he knows you’re stuck on him leaving sometime in the future which is what hinders this from going forward but he truly wishes you could see that he has no intent on leaving soon or for too long. 

What if he had helped you clean the pen earlier? That would have meant spending more time with you and more outings with your family, surely. On the other hand, what if he had been useful enough during planting? It’s evident he would have never gotten close to you beside cordiality in the mornings and afternoons for meals and trips to the market. 

Jaehyun cannot think of a world where this trip would result in you two not becoming closer. He can’t fathom not getting to know and falling in love with you.

Sensing his pensiveness, you turn your head, looking up at him with a questioning look that he could only interpret as trying to read his mind. He’s noticed that quirk, the way your head tilts and your lips quiver in a way to mutter a “hm” without voicing it. He makes sure to receive it with a smile, leaning in to peck your lips that surely help you abandon your actions.

“It’s a bummer Ollie didn’t come.” He attempts to distract. “Would have been nice seeing him have some fun before leaving.” There’s more to what he had said. Jaehyun wanted to add ‘before I leave’ into his sentence, it’s hanging on his tongue despite how much his brain and heart attempt to keep him wrapped around his delusion of perpetual happiness.

“I think so too.” your body twists within his arms, facing him. “I was thinking of making his favorite meal for dinner once we get back. His dad always returns him skinnier and paler than how he leaves, I need him to keep his cheeks plump, don’t you think?” Your exclamation forces a chuckle out of him, nodding in response. 

“Help me find a gift for him too, then?”  “Don’t spoil him too much, he’ll be an even bigger pain than he already is.” “Oh come on, don’t be so mean to the kid. Let me, please…” Jesus, if anyone was to hear you two they’d think you’re talking about a child and not a nineteen year old. But that’s what Ollie is to you both. A child you saw as yours or your brother that Jaehyun would spoil while you scold him no matter how much you loved him. You’d reckon Ollie’s presence kept you sane even if he often teased you but his nature was enough to bring entertainment for you and joy for your grandparents. If Jaehyun looks back at it, Ollie reminds him of the young boy he met in that taxi on the way to that village. 

Reluctantly (faking so) you agree, rolling your eyes before pushing him off to swim away from him. He doesn’t stay too behind, chasing you for what feels like forever. Overworking your body for hours in such a hot body of water had rendered exhausting for both to the point that you basically had to drag each other out of the water just to lay on the cool metal ramp, gasping for air acclimation to avoid fainting. Jaehyun was far more concerned with you when he didn’t hear you speaking nor felt you moving, calming when you stick your tongue out at him for his nosiness although all you wanted was to see him smile.

“You complain about Ollie but it seems like the real brat here is you!” He exclaims, gaining momentum to swing his legs onto both sides of you. “Cry about it.” You mutter, a smile on your face; his hair hangs off, fuzzy around his eyes and dripping onto your cheeks. “Or… maybe I should do something to correct it.” His hair tickles your face, sticking to your cheeks the more his lips linger on them, testing the waters.

He relents when your arms wrap around his shoulders, leaving him flush over your body with nothing left but your lips to connect. They’re cold and pillowy, soft against your own just like his hands when they find purchase on your waist, holding you near as if the spring water below you will drag you out of his grasp, the last thing he needs. 

Jaehyun is gentle in the way he holds and kisses you. His hands knead your skin, warming against it the more they roam around to hold you closer. Your fingers thread through his hair, sending shivers down his spine that causes him to sigh into the kiss, enough for your tongue to slip through and deepen the kiss. The intensity rose, his hands felt much hotter against your skin the lower they went, scalding when one of them grips your upper thigh –avoiding the bruising from whitey’s assault– helping it raise to rest on his hip.

Tongues mingle amongst each other, the taste of the mango juice he drank earlier still coating it to which you enjoy against your own. The thin film of saliva on both of your lips helps them slot smoothly in a far more pleasant kiss. Jaehyun’s fingers knew how to tease you, tips tickling your inner thigh that forced small groans which begged him for more. 

More, more, more – Jaehyun would have given you everything if it wasn’t for the faint sound of music blaring and tires pushing dirt through Cattle began mooing, warning you of company joining, spoiling whatever comfort you two had.

You scramble to grab the towels, Jaehyun helps you, drying you off with his own and taking the remaining items under his arm to help you towards the truck, staying guard while you change into dry clothes coming in when you knock against the window. He doesn’t bother changing, claiming the air will dry him well enough upon. 

You cross paths with the incoming truck, nodding your heads in acknowledgment before embarking on another long ride. Small talk made here and there, he speaks about how much this road reminds him of Western America: dry vegetation and barely any trees insight but with lively mountains that shield anyone from the sun. You tell him that it seems interesting how he describes that part while detesting Connecticut but he laughs and shrugs. 

It’s not long until you stop at a gas station, the truck nearly empty and he still had to change into some dry clothes. He met you inside, walking through the aisles in search of a snack for whatever was left of the ride. 

Jaehyun doesn’t share your sentiment. He finds himself distracted by a corner of toys, a bright red truck similar to the one you’re transporting through catching his eye. It glimmers under the sun rays that make way through the window panels. Jaehyun thinks it would be a good gift for Ollie, a menial one for now.

Paying for the items and heading outside with you hand in hand, Jaehyun recalls seeing a photobooth by the bathrooms. He pulls you along with no response to your questions, motioning with his head for you to push through the red velvet curtain. The first image is neutral enough, smiling while looking directly at the mirror, the flash comes in and you two hold each other. By the last two flashes it resulted in engraving the image of you two kissing.

You laugh at him for sneaking in a kiss and having it on film, he shrugs you off knowing that it was an image he’d like to see at all times and he’s hopeful you do too. You still needed to wait for at least four minutes for the film strips to develop, leading Jaehyun to slot in more coins claiming he wanted Ollie to have something to remind the young boy of the two. 

Jaehyun truly wanted to say that he hoped Ollie wouldn’t forget that the two loved him. He hoped a flimsy piece of paper was enough of comfort to Ollie as they will be to him.

Pulling out a pocketbook rushedly, Jaehyun manages to scribble his support and appreciation for the young boy. That’s an image of himself alone, handing it to you to scribble something quick before the flash goes off again. The last two flashes are paraded with you two making faces you often made towards him – sticking your tongue out or scrunching your nose, the latter his favorite one.

“Good luck in your journey, you’ve done so well these past months!” “Ollie! Remember to eat all your meals and no buddy-budding with any louse. You’re a good boy!” “Fighting our lovely, Ollie!” Compliments of Jaehyun.  “We love you, Ollie. More than you think.” Now that comes from the bottom of both of your hearts.

Jaehyun bought a jacket for Ollie once back in the village while grocery shopping at the market for the voyage dinner. For the first time since he arrived you had trusted him to navigate the village on his own. The everyday route was engraved onto his brain, finding you shortly with the jacket in a wrapped box. You wanted to see it but he told you you’d have to wait until Ollie opens it, he didn’t want to re-wrap this himself.

Your grandparents and Ollie didn’t arrive until a few hours later when everything was set up already. Jaehyun arranged the table outside with a fine china that belonged to you, not the one in the cabinet. He had attempted to help you in the kitchen but backed off when he saw your eye twitch the second he mixed a pot on the stove. There he learnt that getting in your way while cooking wasn’t a good idea so he instead went to feed the pen animals and loiter around to write the letter he’d give the young boy with his gifts.

Ollie could have sworn this was a delayed birthday party. Jaehyun had arrived a week after Ollie turned nineteen, missing any form of celebration. Now he was complete, this had to be a form of celebration and not a voyage dinner, it just had to. Otherwise why would he be crying at the dinner table? 

Ollie would like to think his tears represented the impending doom you were all to face one way or another with his absence. Both figuratively and and literally; comically and realistically. 

The hands on his back and shoulders try their best to comfort him, whispers of how this was yet another trip meant to minimize the meaning of this but Ollie knew something was wrong, something none of you did just yet. He smiled widely, tears streaming down his face, laughing in order to control himself but your gentle wiping and hugs made him fall deeper into that feeling. His childish intuition as you all call it.

Jaehyun on the other hand decides to pull out his gifts in hopes it would help but it only made Ollie cry harder. The younger spews his thank you’s, hugging Jaehyun for comfort to which the older one takes, his own heart filling with such an aching pulsation. He ignores it, it doesn’t matter what he’s feeling, he wants Ollie to take a good look and remember him in a bright light.

Ollie wore the jacket all night and took it on his trip – along the letter–, never letting anyone touch it. He left the truck with you and your grandparents, he knew it’d be far more safe with you than with his brothers. 

The dinner didn’t spoil after his crying fit. Your grandmother had playfully scolded him to get a grip while your grandfather helped him with a shot of liquor. It progressed onto serving them all dinner, Jaehyun helping you throughout all steps while your grandpa complained about the long lines for their pension and all the old people as if he wasn’t one of them. Your grandmother only backed him up a few times, rebutting his claims in others just for the sake of arguing which caused laughs to leave everyone. 

It wasn’t anything new, Jaehyun had grown accustomed to their conversations. They may argue right now but other times the tone of their voices sounded harsh when all they were doing was conversing, as peaceful as they knew how. He wonders if this will ever be you two although he’s not sure he could raise his voice at you or vice versa.

Night had fallen faster than any of you would have wanted. Usually Ollie would leave whenever he pleased and no one would bat an eye but in the past hour his father had called nearly ten times and it was bothering your grandparents. You and Jaehyun too but not as much as the elders since they were the ones inside. Your grandmother had been yelling from her bed to tell Ollie his dick of a father was on the line again, in fact by the fifth call no one answered, they just knew. 

So when the tenth call had rung, Ollie who had been helping you put away the left overs answered angrily telling his father to fuck off and that he’d be on the way soon, received with some scolding from him that he didn’t finish spewing from how fast Ollie hung up. It didn’t mean your scolding wasn’t on the way with how piercing your glare was.

Like a kicked sad puppy, Ollie goes to you in hopes his affection would soften the blow. “That’s not how I’ve raised you, Oliver! Your dad may be a deadbeat but you still shouldn’t talk to him like that – at least in our presence!” Your fingers nip his earlobe, a yelp leaving his bitten lips and a grunt to follow. 

“You know my grandparents don’t like when you talk back so don’t do it again when they’re around, okay?” You say, a hand on your hip like a mother scolding her child. That’s essentially how you saw him and how he saw you. 

“So I can talk back in front of you?” A cheeky smile received with a soft pinch to his ear. “No!” Your smile betrayed your words. He giggles at the reaction he got out of you, twisting out of your grasp to take you into a hug. 

“I really wish you would just enjoy the present and the time you have with Jaehyun without dwelling on how long or how little he has left here. Enjoy the love he’s giving you and return yours, he needs it too, Y/n. For what is left...” 

He sighs, holding you in a firmer grasp. Words don’t quite describe what you want to answer with but you knew he was right despite your initial hostility. 

You kiss his cheek, nodding as a response. He mimics your actions before waving and heading over to your grandparents to bid his goodbyes before leaving through the middle room. 

Jaehyun doesn’t know why he disappeared after dessert. Perhaps he didn’t want to face Ollie when he left and had to say goodbye, he wasn’t good with those. So here he was, on the roof next to the water tank, filling it up as an excuse to why he was so detached from everyone else. It didn’t matter though, Ollie had found him immediately that when Jaehyun heard the clanking of boots he gifted the boy against the rusted ladder, he felt dread.

He pretended to be people watching, seeing how a guy on the right side cleaned his car (it is  meant to rain tomorrow or overnight). In the front, a woman bathes her dogs within the vicinity of her patio, the dog shaking and getting the water all over her. On the dirt filled path, children rode their bicycles, going around any ditches and potholes that would make them fall.

Ollie joins him, standing besides, focusing far more on how the sun was setting. He allows Jaehyun to speak first but frowns when he doesn’t; the faint sound of the phone ringing again makes him shut his eyes.

“Thank you for the gifts, you’ve done far more for me than my own dad.” He bitterly chuckles. Jaehyun turns to him, a small grin on his face that falls when the younger one speaks again.

“You’re avoiding me.” “No.” 

His voice wavers, eyes trying to show Ollie he wasn’t. Ollie chuckles again, shaking his head. 

“I get it, don’t worry. I don’t want to say bye either.”  “I don’t want to say bye.”

Ollie nods, looking at the sights Jaehyun had looked upon. The car was clean despite the sprinkling, a child had missed a bump and fell, and the dog was laying back on dirt.

“Jaehyun, it does mean a lot to me what you’ve done these months. You kind of suck with labor and all but you’ve been of great help.” He laughs, hoping his teasing jab will ease the tension. Jaehyun rolls his eyes, hitting the back of his head softly with a silent laugh. “I’m serious though, you’ve been of great help to Y/n, it’s not easy dealing with the house work and being a caretaker. I think you’ve helped liven her up more. I’m glad you’re able to think about your present with her. I hope it doesn’t change, you make her happy and we like seeing her this way.” Ollie sighs looking at his watch, the sun has set. 

“I hope you’re still here by the time I come back home–” He laughs, cutting himself off. “It’s not even my home.” 

“I’ve never felt more at home than here, I understand.”

Ollie smiles at his claims, he nods with a final sigh. Before going down he gives Jaehyun a final hug and a tight squeeze. The older man mimics his actions to demonstrate his own affection.

Midway down the ladder, Ollie stops and Jaehyun tilts his head. “By the way, this came after you left earlier today.” He pulls out a wrinkled envelope from his back pocket. Immediately recognizing the ivory color and red wax seal, all Jaehyun knows is that he won’t read it any time soon.

“Bye, Jaehyun.” “Bye, Ollie.”

–

Things didn’t go back to normal after Ollie’s departure, no matter how hard everyone pretended that this hadn’t created a rupture into the atmosphere – a breach to the eco. It goes to say that Ollie helped things feel easy and fun, he was the joy you all needed and now he was gone. Things felt mundane again and to Jaehyun this wasn’t a foreign feeling but one he did not want to have here.

A week and a half without him already feels like an eternity. You and Jaehyun wonder if this is what parents feel when their children finally part ways. 

On the brightside, his conversation with you helped you ease into what you felt for Jaehyun. Yes, you still sneaked kisses and affectionate touches here and there out of respect for your grandparents but it was so obvious what you two had that the elders didn’t tease you anymore for the glances and blush.

Mail day has arrived and Jaehyun once again has received a letter, one he thinks about throwing onto the pile of drafts he’s written and discarded. The letter Ollie handed him before he left tucked in between those. 

He thanks the mailman, putting down the rake he used to pick up fallen leaves. Your grandfather had taught him to put them in a pile to later be burned. He contemplates throwing the letter in, watching the red wax seal spread as it melts. He can't, though, the bold red letters screaming “URGENT!” make themselves present to him. 

Jaehyun sighs, shaking his head wondering what it was now as he opens the envelope. Simple greetings, some scolding and questioning, and a plane ticket. What? That was enough for Jaehyun to ignore his nonchalant attitude and let panic take over him. He took the effort to read over the letter closely without missing a detail. 

Why the hell would he have a plane ticket?!

‘Dear Jaehyun,

No, scratch that. What the hell is wrong with you? We haven’t heard back from you since that call and you’re not answering the one letter we sent you. We figure and understand you’re having a great time but it does not mean you’re meant to forget your responsibilities back home. Remember how you’re supposed to send drafts? Right, you haven’t done that and given the changes made while you’ve been gone it’s best you get to it!

We miss you so don’t regard this letter as totally reproachful. Please be sure to be here and don’t miss your plane. We’ll make sure to send a fax before you make it to the airport. Till then, enjoy your time and give us a call as soon as you can.

Sincerely, Jude.’

Well this has severed his plans and mood. Was it not enough to have one departure?

30 AUG 87, 17:30 time of departure, one way only. Red bold letters mirroring the ones that caught his attention to read the components of the letter. If he had known it was for this, he would’ve thrown it in the pile of leaves and act clueless if he was to ever receive an emergency call.

His aggravation was noticeable to you the second he stepped inside the vicinity of the patio. His face sunken, something it wasn’t before leaving to clean outside. Not to mention it seemed like he was biting the inside of his cheeks, holding in his breath as a form of repression. You watch carefully, pretending to not have noticed him while cutting sugar canes near his room.  

He sees you and he wants to ask something or at least find a way to begin this conversation. He should tell you, no? He should, he knows it but he’s scared and also a coward who waits for you to throw the first stone.

“Something happened?” Jaehyun stops by the step before the kitchen, facing you with a slight shake of head. “Um… does the phone run overseas calls?” It’s your turn to shake your head, firmly unlike him. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit.”

He bolts out towards Gabby’s with the ticket inside his pocket, crumbled and wrinkled like the letter Ollie handed him. The older woman seemed to have understood the reason for his visit. The second she saw the familiar face, she pulled that phone she loved so much to the counter along with the catalog and timer, dialing the code before handing it to him. Jaehyun was thankful she didn’t drag it out, he needed answers immediately.

One ring, two rings, “Hello?” Good, rapid enough.

Jaehyun grips the phone, a tight hold that makes his subconscious scared that he’ll pop this heirloom. “I don’t want to go back!” Well, that’s a way to start a conversation. 

Hyunjoo laughs, calling Jude over to let him know their golden boy finally contacted them after four months. Jude wasn’t as kind as Hyunjoo, he took the fatherly role seriously and began berating the younger of the three on why he had gone rogue. 

“What if something had happened to you? Do you not care for what we feel, Jaehyun. If it wasn’t for this idiot I would’ve sent you letters and even gone to pick you up, so don’t ever pull this on us again! On me, again!” One can only imagine how red he was, up to his receding hairline. 

Jaehyun would’ve laughed in the past but now the life he’s built here is soon to crumble and he doesn’t like it. “It doesn’t mean you guys can just force me back! I’ve built something here, I have something going on! I love it here and I don’t want to leave!” He whines, obvious hurt in his wavering voice.

“Yeah, well, whatever you have going on should be finished soon. You know, you only went there for inspiration and to blow some steam off, Yuno. Nothing else, my boy.” If Hyunjoo was there he would pat his cheek reassuringly, unaware of how much Jaehyun hated his little acts of condescension and belittling. 

Jaehyun didn’t want to finish what he had here, he wanted to stay forever. He wanted to stay with you, your grandparents, and Ollie. He wanted to be here by the time Ollie came back to greet him with a big hug, a meal, and a trip to the hot spring he wasn’t able to enjoy before leaving. He wanted to build a life with you. Court you properly, date you, travel with you. Even marry you, he doesn’t care how early this is or how late, he wants you and everyone he’s learnt to love these months in his life. Of course his career had to get in between him and his happiness like always.

Jude sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose.  “Listen, Jaehyun… There’s nothing we can do, have you read the letter we sent you a few weeks back? That explains it all. Believe me when I say that if it was for me, you could stay there for as long as you want and go back whenever the book is published–”

“That’s the plan.” He interrupts, teeth gritting. Jude and Hyunjoo give each other a look, one that would make Jaehyun feel far more defensive if he could see it. “Jaehyun… things have changed within the publishing house. Go read the letter and we’ll see you Monday, yeah?”

Jude waited for an answer that Jaehyun never gave him. He hung up quite forcibly, receiving a glare from the store owner who muttered the amount. He didn’t stay for his change nor cared for her screams telling him to take it. Jaehyun was in an irritable mood that no one could take away from him today.

Things were definitely not fine. That’s as much as you and your grandpa could decree when Jaehyun crossed the patio straight into his room, closing the door behind him without uttering a word. The elder and you removed kernels in front of his window, under the tree for shade. You could hear him mumble incoherently, his eyebrows furrowing the further he read. 

“What bug bit him?” Your grandpa whispers, cocking his head to the open window. You shrug, throwing away the cob into a bucket, fuel for the chimney. “Go ask then.” So persistent and straight to business. “What? No! I’ll wait until he tells me, pa…” But you did want to ask him what was wrong, more than anything. It’s just that your cowardice won’t allow you. The older man rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in disappointment while feeding the chickens with fallen kernels. 

Time and him can only tell what he’s feeling.

‘Dear Jaehyun,

For starters, we miss you dearly. At least I do but find it in your heart to believe Hyunjoo does so as well. We’ve respected your wishes on not contacting you, even through letters but it’s been over three months and you have yet to let us know how you are doing. Do you not care for mine and your family’s well being? I care for yours, I’ve been restless all these months wondering how you are doing. It’s far too irresponsible to not even contact your own family, Jaehyun.

Is the book in the works? How are the drafts? You know we needed drafts mailed throughout your stay, young man. How is the host treating you? I figure well enough if you haven’t contacted us yet. If not then I’ll see myself forced to call the national guard if I don’t hear from you soon!

Regardless, some updates on how things are going on our end. We’ve been able to fake some notices here and there to the publishing house about yours and the drafts whereabouts. If you must know, if you haven’t figured it out already – which is possible, being in such an isolated village… – Mark is in the process of publishing his next book. His last ones have been a great success and been able to knock some of yours from bestsellers therefore things are becoming harsh around here.

The publishing house wants you back immediately and wants your book ready. Hyunjoo has managed to give you more time before it’s edited and the final print is chosen but the new investors are pushing the house and they are desperate for a contender against Mark’s book. So please, cut your time short and don’t miss your plane! I’ll make sure to send the ticket soon when I’m able to obtain it.

Best regards,  Jude.’

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to think. He now understands multiple jobs are on the line but so is his happiness. Even so if he goes and turns in whatever he has – which isn’t enough for even a first draft – what guarantees all of them that it will be published by the time Mark’s is? They can’t just publish some nonsensical thoughts he’s scribbled down for the sake of beating another child protege author. 

Mark’s work is far different from Jaehyun’s, he’s youthful in the way he writes, his metaphors are far more enthusiastic and fun. He’s great within young audiences and those seeking to remove themselves from melancholia. He’s everything Jaehyun isn’t and in both their brains, they know they can’t compete for something neither are reaching for.

Matter of fact, that’s not his concern right now. His concern is on how to break the news to you and your family. He’s supposed to leave by the end of this week, what are you going to do in such a short notice? What is he going to do in such short notice? Things were finally starting to align, why must bad things always happen to him– you– both.

One thing is for sure, he has to tell you immediately. But first he’s going to go back to Gabby’s and buy whichever pack of beers and some chips, maybe even some bread in case you feel your blood pressure rise (he’ll eat it, most likely). Arriving there and getting the items, he’s grateful the older woman honored the change he had left, even gifted him a chocolate as she sensed that something was off. Jaehyun thanks her and contemplates on saying goodbye but it’s too soon. Instead he nods and waves on his way back.  

He doesn’t have the courage to go past the threshold, opting to sit on the uncomfortable and textured concrete bench by the door of your’s and your grandmother’s bedroom. He hears the loud melodrama of her soap operas and the sewing machine she doesn’t leave alone. Another dress for you, he figures she’s making.

There’s the faint sound of music coming from your grandfather’s car, the one he and Ollie worked on often and that Jaehyun began helping with due to his absence. It pains Jaehyun to know that the elder will once again lose the aid he claims to not want but appreciates wholeheartedly. 

His sigh elicits company, or perhaps the pop from the beer bottle had attracted it so here you were, standing by the metal threshold that separated you and him from inside to outside. Your head tilts, looking at him as if trying to read the grievances on his face. 

“Misery likes company.” 

Your voice makes his head snap, eyes glistening while drowning in the sweetness of your company. He smiles shortly, patting the empty spot to his right, the sun is setting fastly. 

He takes your hand into his, kissing the palm and fingers before pulling you in for an embrace. All of this was scaring you the more and more he remained quiet and it only seems like your brain was already processing the inevitable.

“Got a letter from my manager…” “So?”

“My “rival” is putting out a book soon according to them and they want me to send in a draft already for the final print.” His fingers curl at the quotation marks, rolling his eyes at how stupid it all felt. “Ah… well, do you have anything to send then?” He shakes his head, apologies on your face. “We can stay this entire week so you can work on it, how does that sound? Pa doesn’t have to check on the crops any time soon and there isn’t really anywhere else we could go, not anywhere near.” 

There’s so much pep in your voice that it hurts to think about how short the remaining days will feel. He has to tell you and he has to tell you now.

“I leave this Sunday, Y/n.” “Oh.”

Jaehyun didn’t mean to say it like this but how else was he meant to? He didn’t want to drag it out longer nor agitate you but he also didn’t want to hurt you and that’s all he can read on your face. Hurt.

Misery does love company.

Your body slumps against the adobe wall, harsh against your backbones. The hand he holds falls limp against his touch and all Jaehyun can do as comfort is kissing it before placing the open bottle in your hand, opening another for himself. 

He hadn’t had the time to burn the pile of leaves and the sun was far more foreign by now. That shade of blue coloring his face, an obvious demonstration of his feelings from the past hour. Yet it’s you who takes the initiative to take out the box of matches from the apron you wear, forgetting that you were cooking dinner just to check up on him.

The flame catches fast, rising as you whisper your grievances into it, taking a sip of your drink. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, he tries to take a hold of your hand but he hesitates, fearful that you won’t want it. Instead he throws both letters onto the fire, helping its consumption and anger. At least now you both have let something go.

The morning after, both elders made sure to not ask any favors out of him and let him to his own vices. They understood he’s meant to get his work done so they didn’t want to add stress onto him. But this continued onto the third and fourth day of the week and Jaehyun was aching more and more as his time fell short. He felt just as inutile as his first week, if not more than that week. He also felt his heart ache only having meals to spend with you all but even then he began feeling like the foreigner he was.

Conversations with him were as cordial as before but not as cheery. They asked about his book and what he had ready. They asked if his suitcase was prepared and if he was happy to go back home. Your grandpa did his best to joke around but would soon drop it when he felt his voice tremble. He’s always worn his heart in his sleeve and another one he saw as a son will now leave him again.

Your grandmother on the other hand was the most level headed. She made sure Jaehyun was kept on track with his work and even helped clean his room when he begged her not to tire herself. She’s faced much loss and pain, a stranger leaving wasn’t going to knock her down. If anything, she feels for how you will act once he’s gone.

By dinner time you and your grandfather had bolted out of the kitchen, feeding the animals any leftovers and giving them their own meal. That left him and your grandmother in the kitchen. She was in the process of taking some water from the bucket in the chimney, he did it instead. Pouring it into another container where your grandmother would then add cold water for balance.

She thanked him and told him he should go back to work but Jaehyun didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be alone, he’s been so for the past three days and it’s corroding his soul. He wants to take away the happy memories, he wants his final days to be fun. He’s begging for you all to not do this to him. He needs contact and affection, he needs it.

“So… you have everything ready?” She tries to converse, passing the soapy sponge over the dirty plates. He nods, rinsing it. “Not excited, I’m guessing.” Jaehyun’s pout is enough of an answer. “Look at it on the brightside. You’ll be able to get it over with and the doors here are always open for you.”

He should know she means it, the problem is that he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. How long will it take for the book to be published? How long will promotions last? What if he’s forced to work on something else straight after? Jesus Christ, he’s not even back yet and he’s already stressing about his reality.

“Yeah?”  “Yes.”

Jaehyun smiles at her. 

“Will you take care of Y/n for me?” He asks again, putting away the dishes he’s rinsed. She laughs nodding, “She’s taking care of us, I think she’ll manage well.” Jaehyun laughs as well, feeling foolish. “I don’t think you should worry too much about her, Jaehyun. She’s strong and can handle this. As long as you two keep in contact, I believe it will be fine.” She pats his back, leaving a wet hand print that warms his muscles. 

He contemplates on taking the advice. Your grandmother has said everything he already knows about you but perhaps he’s projecting his own feelings. He’ll need another source for advice and there’s no one better than your grandfather.

Jaehyun excuses himself, rinsing and drying the few dishes left before walking out to help your grandfather on the car. The older man sat pensive while looking around the vehicle, loud music coming out of it to drown any thoughts. 

Hopping on the co-pilot seat, Jaehyun smiles at him, dusting away some stray picked up dust. “It’s looking better now.” He compliments, your grandpa nods, humming with a following hearty laugh. “You’re much better at this than me.” The older one shakes his head, continuing his laughter. “These things take time, you just need to practice more. When you come back I’ll help you with it.” Your grandpa is far more hopeful than the rest of you, that reassures him enough.

“You’ll let me in again?” 

“Yes. You make my kids happy and you’ve been of great help even when you didn’t have to.” His laughter subsided, turning into a smile he was struggling to maintain. “It’s a shame you’re leaving so soon.” He hiccups, waterworks on the way. “We’ll miss you, kid. Especially Y/n…” The mention of your name was enough for him to begin his silent sobs, tears beginning to spill. 

If there is one thing he can count on is your grandfather expressing what you and your grandmother aren’t able to. Jaehyun sniffles himself, comforting with some rubs to the older’s shoulder before hugging him. Now he knows how appreciated and loved he is and for that he is thankful.

Your grandpa attempts to stop crying, laughing in between to seem like everything was fine. That was always his way of trying to control himself. “You’ll come back, right?” Jaehyun nods, smiling at him while wiping away a stray tear. “As soon as possible. I want a life here.” Your grandfather smiles at him, looking straight to where his headlights shine.

“I’m not from here either. I was born and raised in a city an hour or two from here– you’ve been there, that’s where the airport is.” Jaehyun recalls his first day, the bustling and loud city with historical architecture. It was beautiful, surely, but it doesn’t compare to this village and its own beauty.

“I’ve worked my entire life since I can remember, seven to be specific. By eighteen I found myself here, I was young and my only experience came from the mines and cleaning cars but agriculture is a booming business here so somehow I found my way to a ranch that was hiring to work on machinery. I didn’t know how to work a car let alone a tractor but I was hungry and needed money to send back home. My dad died when I was only three and my mom was left alone with five kids. I had to help her. I lied my way through with the owner and I was young so he took me in.” 

Everyone starts somewhere and soon falls in love with the place.

“I stayed at a shack they had built by plots, their own home wasn’t too far so I often went by to ask for a glass of water. That’s when I met Y/n’s grandmother. She’s always been this cold and serious. I would chug the water down and then beg her for more. She would roll her eyes and complain but would always come back with it filled to the brim, ice cold.” He laughs, tears finally gone. 

“From then on I kept trying to talk with her even if she pretended to hate it. I’d ask her sisters and sometimes her brothers but it was tricky, I didn’t want them to beat my ass up for thinking about their sister! So, I would have enough with whatever conversations we would have when she brought the workers drinks and food or at dances. One time her own father told me to ask her to dance and since then I never left her alone. With his blessing, then none of her family would interfere and sooner than later I asked her to marry me so here we are, sixty years later and twelve kids.”

“Is this you giving me your blessing to be with Y/n?” Jaehyun half jokes but there’s so much sincerity in his voice that he can’t deny being hopeful. The older man nods and laughs, clasping his back. “As if you needed it… I often went back to my own family but still came back because I love this place and everything it has offered me. Similar to you… I hope your love for Y/n is as strong as mine was years ago. I would hate to see a different fate for you two.”  

Jaehyun didn’t know how to respond to that, he truly wished to be back as soon as possible and he would fight tooth and nail to make it possible. Yes, it’s different from him and your grandfather due to the distance but he will make it work because he loves you, he loves you so much that he can’t seem to express it properly. 

“Thank you…” “It’s just advice.”

The older man leaves him to his vices and thoughts. With another laugh and a nod bidding him goodnight, he turns the car off, leaving Jaehyun in the dark.

Jaehyun thinks about both conversations all night. He feels a sense of relief knowing he’s had a heart to heart with two of the most important people in your life. It’s good to know they approve of him and the love he has for you. He hopes you’re as understanding and hopeful as your grandparents.

Saturday came as a surprise to him. The roosters weren’t the ones to wake him up, it was your grandpa who excitedly told him to gather all his things. Jaehyun tried to question what was going on but the elder gave him no time. His hearty laugh was enough of an answer, taking the few suitcases he saw in the corner while pushing Jaehyun into the restroom to get ready. He’s not sure what’s going on but he won’t protest, it’s the first time this week that he feels included.

Within half an hour everyone was ready, Jaehyun noticed you too were surprised by the sudden change of plans. You weren’t your usual put-together self and kept yawning resulting in you sleeping throughout the entire car ride. He took this moment to take pictures of the road. Previously he had compared it to his time in West America, he now doesn’t think it’s too comparable. The vegetation is bright and green, most of it coming from incoming crops and lively trees.

Within an hour your grandfather stopped at a town, it was time for breakfast. Both raved about the food despite how spicy it was while you and your grandmother made fun of them. Jaehyun took this chance to take more pictures, candid ones of you and your family with the prettiest decoration in the background. Every memory counts.

Afterwards, you all take a moment to explore the quaint town for a bit, simply so Jaehyun can get some souvenirs. It reminded him of two past towns he’s visited during his time here. One where he had to fight for a seat to be able to eat. Meal which ended up being one of the most disgusting things he’s ever had. He won’t ever tell the rest of you that but you share his sentiment. The second one being where your grandpa struggled to find parking and almost left. He likes that one better.

It’s not to say this town isn’t beautiful, it is. It’s historical, colorful, and calm. Very calm and quiet, something that reminds him of the best village which is where he resided for the past few months. How he loves it there and he’ll hold it to his heart.

Getting his pictures and souvenirs, it was set to take another two hours on the road, only stopping when having to use the restroom which unfortunately due to age is something your grandparents needed often. In those moments Jaehyun would reminisce on the day you two took those photos and bought Ollie’s truck, the one he saw daily perched next to the fine china in the cabinet with a passport picture of him. 

“Well here we are, the city I was born in.” Your grandfather’s voice made sure to take away the last bits of drowsiness from you. Your last visit was at fifteen and from the looks of it, nothing had changed. It’s amazing for Jaehyun to tell how different life was between the countryside and the city. The moment you all came to see the skyscrapers and bridges, it felt like a totally different part of the world. It was louder, much more polluted and littered, but for sure not horrendous. Your grandfather made sure to tell him the story of this city like he had done for every village and town visited. 

For the majority of the day you all spent it looking around. At the entrance, your grandparents pushed you to ride on the cableway that dropped you off directly downtown. You tried to make them get in it with you both but they excused themselves with being too old and preferring to meet you there with the car. You all knew it was so you and Jaehyun could spend a couple of minutes alone.

“It’s pretty.” “Not as pretty as home.” 

Jaehyun smiles at you, taking your hand into his. You return the gesture, squeezing his warm hand in yours. 

“Is your city pretty? I’ve heard it is.” 

“I’m not talking about where I’ll go back, Y/n. I’m talking about back home. With you, your grandparents, and Ollie.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. Within you and the colorful buildings beneath, Jaehyun is sure to say the view during his time has always been beautiful.

“Do you truly want a life with me?” You shift, close yet with a distance. It was a simple answer, there’s no reason to lie. His smile, dimples, eyes, and even his reddened ears told you he did. Words are preferable though. “Yes.” leaves his rosy lips, kissing you to imprint the confirmation.

Only time will tell how true to his word he is.

You met your grandparents shortly, both bickering about where to reside when night befalls. The topic fell to deaf ears, prefering to explore more about the city. Murals that he wouldn’t forget, traffic as bad as where he resides with the exception that entertainment began the second redlights turn on. Street food that smells delicious and calls his name within every second. 

It’s similar yet so distinct from what he has learned to love. It’s clear to him that no matter how familiar you are to one thing, there will always be more to learn about it. 

It was near dinner time and within an hour or two from sundown. That forced your grandparents to argue again about the same thing from earlier. This time you two got to learn that your grandfather wanted to rest in his childhood home with his family while your grandmother wanted to avoid that at all costs. She’ll tolerate a visit but won’t give them the benefit of being their host, that’s her role. Not to mention she won’t forget all their wrongdoings towards her and her husband no matter how much the latter attempts to have a happy family.

Words thrown here and there, you all decree to eat out. Both you and your grandmother brought up the time his sister cooked unhygienically that he ended up having a stomach bug for the following three days. He laughs at this and leads you all to your favorite spot, somewhere Jaehyun yearns to taste again for years to come.

You all do end up visiting his family before the sun falls, a quick in and out situation. Jaehyun didn’t pay too much attention to the conversations, he was more entranced with the portraits on the walls and the cracks of chipped paint that told the story of this home.

“Why do you keep looking at the cracks?”

Your voice forces Jaehyun to turn to you, extending his hand to feel your warmth. “Do you think they’re due to poor care or the house growing old with its inhabitants? Your grandpa said he doesn’t recall the ones from this wall.” Your head tilts, looking at them as if you two were in a museum. Perhaps you should take him there tomorrow before his departure. 

“Will you write that in your book?” He laughs, taking you into an embrace. “Okay smarty pants how do you word it normally, then?” You return the gesture. “I wouldn’t even think about it for starters, there’s so many back home. Why would I care about this one?” 

“I’ve seen how much care you all give the home, there’s barely any cracks. The question is answered for that house.”

“Then… I guess you can find an answer for this one. We’ve been here for an hour or so and there’s plenty more people living here who haven’t greeted them at least.” 

You both turn to your grandparents. Grandma sitting silently and aggravated in the corner with a cup of water that she hasn’t touched. Your grandfather enjoys his talk with his sisters despite their spouses talking over and for them. His nephews and nieces, nowhere seen but heard through these same cracks Jaehyun wonders so much about. 

Yes, he has his answer. A house without love crumbles faster.

The sun had fallen sooner than expected and with that your grandmother finally found an excuse to leave. The other elders offered to let you all stay with no avail when even your grandfather told them it wasn’t necessary. He knew of a nearby hotel, clean, and hospitable that you could all stay at and his wishes were final. 

Immediately as the doors were closed behind your backs, the ruckus of the other four families living there could be heard. It’s clear as day where their intentions laid and why not a single picture of you or your family was on their walls.

When questioning why he denied their offer knowing other times he’d agree immediately, he only muttered a simple: “They didn’t even greet you or Jaehyun. What kind of hosts will they be?” Jaehyun felt a part of the family.

Room distribution went as follows. Your grandfather and Jaehyun would share a room, each with their own bed. Same thing applied to you and your grandmother, a concept you knew too well. This was the first and final night in which you two wouldn’t share a kiss through the bathroom window. You miss it like you’ll miss him.

The following morning isn’t as kind to either of you. The previous day none of you were able to process the severity that it was his final day with all of you. Enamored with what the city offered and the warmth of feeling loved by everyone within the circle, no one felt the harsh reality that is now overcoming you all. There’s ten hours left of his stay.  

Silence is the first thing that you all notice, no matter how hard you all try to erase it. Being aware that time is ticking weighs down on your shoulders. Walking through these streets feels slightly surreal. Like a Dali painting, walking through a sea of melting clocks. A torment is what he’d call it.

He manages to get a few more souvenirs, he’s not sure for who or if he’s trying his best to collect every single piece as a memory, he’ll lean towards the latter. Besides, he snags some final gifts for you, your family, and even Ollie, it’s the least he can do besides memories. He’ll be taking those and who knows when he’ll be able to show them to you all.

Within the fifth hour your grandparents rendered themselves tired and tried forcing you two to go on your own. Jaehyun didn’t want that, as much as he loves time with you, he also loves spending time with them. The two have taught him many things, brought many laughs and anecdotes he cherishes dearly.

To be maintained happy, he invites you all to a final dinner. It’s much earlier than usual but he would miss his flight if you’d have to wait till usual hours. Your grandparents attempt to protest, claiming they’re bad hosts if they let him pay but they’re fighting a losing battle and Jaehyun will make sure he can grant them everything before he goes back to reality.

It’s by far enjoyable and it helps him reminisce on all previous meals within those cold adobe walls he loved since day one. It’s dim in the restaurant, recalling the time it rained so hard the streets became rivers and light went out for the remainder of the day. You all ate under candle light while your grandparents told scary stories of the village.

Dinner was the only condition for you to leave your grandparents to rest. With all the heaviness in his heart, Jaehyun fulfilled their wishes. And while you thought it was best to leave them at the hotel, the two continued their stubborn streak and ended up sitting at a park to people-watch. Naturally, they needed live entertainment.

Three and a half hours left, so little time and so much left to do. 

You essentially were a tourist just as him, both experiencing new attractions that you only saw in passing the one time you came by. It led to both jumping from museum to museum. National and independent, art and history, for food and tools. It didn’t matter but it filled the empty space and the forced silence helped neither of you spill what flooded your minds.

“I liked the tools museum better.” You retort, almost skipping down the steps to avoid the sun rays. It was much hotter than it ever had been back in town. “Really? I thought the history museum was really nice.” He covers his eyes, rushing to your side. “Nothing Pa hasn’t told you.” He nods, shrugging with a little shimmy to his shoulders.

He looks at his watch and sighs, there isn’t much time left. “Where to next?” His words form a pit in your stomach, forcing yourself to look at the numbers on it. You ignore it, dawning on you that you’ve never spoken in-depth about his job. What’s your thought process when coming up with your books?” 

He hums, “For my first books, they were all inspired by cases I heard back home. Where I was born. They’re bleak but there’s still a sense of hope. On top of it I read a lot of Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy growing up so I felt like a cynic comparing both their work, trying my best to create a middle ground that would represent me.” He cocks his head, it’s a bitter taste to him these days. 

“Those two lead to my last two. I’m not fond of them, I won’t lie. They’re rushed and robotic, it’s noticeable in the tone but the publishing house wanted something fast and since they sold well, they didn’t care about how I felt, that’s why I’m here now. They wanted this book to be rushed and as miserable as those but I can’t handle writing anything of the sorts anymore. I would’ve ended up like Plath, Hemingway or Dazai if I wrote about how miserable life is once again.”

Jaehyun couldn’t understand if the look on your face was pity or empathy, he didn’t want to see it. “Don’t worry about this one. I’ve found meaning and great inspiration. I’ll dedicate it to you.”

You laugh against his lips, pulling away to kiss his cheek. “How will I know when it’ll come out?” He shrugs, kissing your hand. “I don’t either but I’ll make sure to deliver the copy straight to you.”

“What makes you think I’ll still be here by the time it’s published?” 

Jaehyun was under the impression that you’d be here too. Your grandmother had reassured him they would always have their doors and arms open for him but he never thought that meant without you.

“I’ll find my way to you even if I have to go to the end of the world so I can read the token of my adoration for you.”

‘Of my love’ is what he wants to say, hanging on his tongue yet too scared to dive out. You seem to read his mind, kissing him instead to swallow what neither of you can say just yet.

 There was still some time left but nothing else worth seeing. Perhaps it was best to gather all your belongings from the hotel, you had the keys to the car and it shouldn’t take you too long. By this point it would be best to waste time at the airport, as dreaded as it is.

Upon arrival time made itself present. The father clock in the lobby allows its ticking to echo through the tiles that you love. The ones in each room weren’t any better. Screaming far louder than the rest that when Jaehyun finished packing his and your grandfather’s bag to make way towards your room, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Dreadful and painful as the feeling in his heart.

He watched you look through the night stands, making sure your grandmother’s medication wasn’t left behind. He had done the same for your grandfather, his medicine case tucked inside his bag. There’s a forlorn look in his eyes, you don’t miss it when turning to smile at him, comfortingly. You want to ask about it but fear it will consume you as well if you dwell on it.

“Ready?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, joining you on the bed and taking you in a tight embrace. In every sense he wasn’t ready to part ways. You try to laugh it off, kissing his cheek and tightening your grip. Your hands caressing his back to bring some type of comfort but it does the opposite.

Jaehyun can now understand why your grandfather breaks down so easily. The weight of one’s emotions are soon to leave when you allow yourself to be free. That may also explain why he’s always so joyful, he’s free of all his grievances but for Jaehyun it will follow him for eternity if things are not fixed as soon as possible.

“This isn’t the last time, Jaehyun… Please don’t cry.” You cradle his face, wiping away his tears that shine like diamonds under the sun rays peeking in through the window. He hiccups, sniffling to control his sobs. “It doesn’t change how difficult it is to say goodbye.” He pouts, lips so rosy and puffed. You kiss them tenderly for comfort and warmth, it’s the least you could do. Words aren’t your forte and you don’t want him to see how gutted you truly are despite trying to hold a front all this time.

Jaehyun returns the actions of affection, holding you for dear life while kissing you like no tomorrow. Muffled words leave him, incoherent to you yet you swallow them. Like the blood of Christ, you don’t let a blood drop if it means your salvation.

“I-I” He attempts to sound what he wants to say, you don’t allow him. Shaking your head fervently, slipping your tongue in the cavity of his mouth to mute him further. You know what he wants to say but if he does, it will make things far more difficult than they already are.

Jaehyun submits to your cowardice and lets the ticking of the clocks guide him. His hands hold your body near him, pulling you onto his lap to feel you closer. He wants more and so do you, God knows when you’ll meet again. 

Fingers threading through his hair, sliding down to his neck, kneading the warm skin you love so much. The actions lead to silent mewls to leave his lips for you to take. You’re so appreciative of the gift that you deepen the kiss, letting his hands roam under your blouse to feel you closer and closer. It’s your turn to gift him a sweet sound that he wishes he could trap into a music box for him to wind and listen to it on repeat daily.

Jaehyun decrees that your blouse is in the way. Too thick and cold, nothing like your skin as he feels now. His large hands take a firm grip of the textile, pulling it off. You’re exposed and he can read what your heart has hidden all this time. Jaehyun prefers to kiss it away, his pillowy lips delicately falling against your chest. Kissing it tenderly to create more of those pretty sounds that hypnotize him. 

You hold him while he does, kissing the crown of his head. Granting him what he wants while your hips softly rock against his, friction forcing him to become rougher. A soft gasp leaves your lips when he softly nips the goosebump filled skin, nimble fingers undoing your brazier. One hand covering one while his teeth take your nipple in between them.

“Jaehyun…” It’s all he wanted to hear. His tongue is warm against your tit, kissing it like his life depends on it. Perhaps it does, neither of you are sure but prefer to act like so. You on the other hand work on unbuttoning his shirt, the cool linen doing no justice to the warmth of his skin that you crave. Little by little you both feel closer to each other. 

He gently lays you down, between the warmth of your bodies and the sunrays witnessing your farewell ritual, the cold had nothing against you. You watch him, admiring every crevice of his body while pushing off your bottoms, leaving you bare for him to gawk at while unbuttoning his pants. 

Your giddy smile teasing him to hurry, giggles reinforcing the sentiment. Taking his shaft in between his warm hands, Jaehyun begins to pump slowly. You attempt to replace his hands with your own which he denies. Your touch will send him overboard without even beginning.

Instead he crawls on the bed and over you, kissing you like he always does. With sweet adoration and love, one you take thankfully. You make sure to cradle his face, his upper body in contact with yours as his fingers thread closer in between your legs. The digits waltz around your inner thighs, reminiscing on the path you and him often took to the plaza and market for your daily shopping trips.

He smiles into the kiss, the memories of all he’s experienced with you consuming him. The position alone brings him to that day at the hot spring where you two began this but never got to go further. The wait was over and he had you here. Caged between his arms, flesh against flesh, warmth radiating and your pretty sounds that he couldn’t get enough of. 

Slowly his fingers intrude the cavern between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips that helped him deepen the kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, finding yours immediately to participate in a waltz where the two could share the words that neither of you were strong enough to share. His fingers curl and pump languidly within you. The action is so foreign and long forgotten that you feel like putty beneath him. 

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, warm breath danced across his skin. Lips perfectly wrapping around the flesh of his red earlobe. He’s so sweet and easy to digest, you wish to swallow him so he never leaves you but you know that can’t be so you will make do with what these few minutes can bring to you.

It’s not far off that he takes his fingers out of you, sticking his tongue out to savor you. Just as sweet as you find him. He moans in delight, rubbing off the dripping essence on his throbbing cock that had earlier been rubbing up against your leg. Jaehyun looks directly at you while pumping himself once again. You no longer look playful but rather hungry and desperate. You needed him like one would need air. Like an addict needs their fix and you fear yours will be taken away from you once you’re both done. The ticking clocks are making it boldly aware.

His eyebrows turn up, eyes softening as if asking if you’re ready. You nod as a response, replacing his hand and continuing his strokes, dragging him downwards slowly in the process. He knew if you touched him he would be thrown overboard, he’s near it but he’ll try to last just for you. And for the sake to excuse being together for longer.

Jaehyun fixed his position above you, nudging your legs minimally to fit between them. He went in slowly, bit by bit. Avoiding any discomfort that he could bring you. You pay him with pleasured moans and kisses to shut yourself up, he graciously takes them. 

“I–” he wants to say it, he wants to tell you how much he loves you. This feels like the perfect time. You shot him down again with that sweet smile of yours, shimming your hips to which he responds by beginning his thrusts. They’re gentle and steady, enough to make you feel something that you’re only able to describe through silent mewls. He holds you tightly, pulling one of your legs above his hip. Jaehyun tries everything to feel you closer, he wants to go deeper and deeper to no avail, his thrusts can only go so far and it makes him yearn for the possibility that he could have more of you but so little time and resources to figure it out.

Jaehyun can’t believe this is it. He’s thankful this is the memory of you he’ll take with him, he’ll cherish it with every fiber in him, treasuring it like one would the eucharist. All he could think about was how wonderful you felt and how perfect your body molds to his. If this isn’t a sign that you’re meant for each other then he doesn’t know what is. 

He worships you in these moments and will continue to do so when he’s gone. He now understands the feeling devotees feel when finding their God and as sacrilegious as it is, Jaehyun’s mind won’t change. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you…

And most of all you feel his love within you. It manifests itself through tears streaming down your cheek, moans muddled with sobs that he can’t decipher to stop and comfort you or continue his thrusts. You answer for him, begging him to keep going, that you’re so close but he knows there’s more to those words besides lust.

He prods, kissing you, being the one to beg this time to let him know what was wrong but you smile and kiss him along. Leaving a trail of kisses along his jugular and shoulders, hands grasping to his flesh for dear life.

“My sweet girl.. Please tell me what’s wrong? Y/n, I lo–” “I love you, I love you, I love you! I love you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s thrusts speed with every repeated word, elated to hear you say what he has wanted to all this time. To hear you spew the words he finally had the courage to let out. For you to hear and engrave in your heart and brain the way he has done so with your own.

He smiles, kissing you with a final thrust. Pulling out to place the proof of his love on your cramping stomach, the pain leaving when you, yourself release. Without a care for the mess, he lays on you, craving your warmth and touch.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know or understand.” The whisper pollutes the room, kissing you to cement the sentiment. You sigh, kissing the crown of his head, cradling his body against yours. If it was up to you, you would not mind dying like this. With the city’s racket as background noise, your heart palpitating against his ear, and his breathing the anecdote to tranquilize you.

Time wasn’t forgiving, his departure time was coming sooner than ever. Reluctantly, both pull away for a quick shower. It felt surreal how slow time felt when enthralled within the love you both had for each other but when reality hit, it rushed you all through the motion. Picking up your grandparents from the park, driving in silence to the airport while dealing with some traffic and the static of the radio. All of this just to arrive at the airport with minutes to spare and for the universe to not understand the pain you all felt.

It’s surreal how cruel and love can be.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Jaehyun is the first to break the silence, holding back his sobs, the redness of his nose and ears give him away. Your grandfather laughs, nodding as he takes him into a hug in which both men break down in a fit of cries. Your grandmother gives you a look, she wants to say something snarky but her tough exterior proves futile when even she feels a weep stuck in her throat. 

“You’ll contact us, right?” Your grandfather wipes his nose, sniffling while smiling warmly at the younger. Jaehyun nods, taking out his pocket book, scribbling his address for you all to send him letters. He doesn’t need yours, he has it saved by memory.

Your grandmother is second in hugging him, slipping in a bill for him to buy something back home. Both know it’s useless where he’ll go but he’ll cherish it as a memory from her just like the box of cigarettes your grandfather had gotten him. He doesn’t smoke but a token of love is a token of love. 

The elder woman pats his cheek, smiling at him tenderly. She hopes this isn’t the last time she’ll see him but she more so than anything hopes he doesn’t disappoint you after this departure. 

“Take care.” 

It leaves you at last. No more to say, no more actions to show. You just hope he comes back to you as promised. 

“I’ll miss you.” Your fingers fiddle with the paper in hand, his pretty handwriting hypnotizing you to believe this moment isn’t real.

“I love you.” That’s enough to call your attention. His palm cradles your face and he steals a quick tender kiss. Embarrassment of having done so in front of your grandparents floods you, you only hope they understand which they do.

“I love you too…”

You had all drowned the calling from the greeter at the door earlier on but things had to be done and reluctantly you both let go. Watching him enter that path had taken a piece of you and when he was out of view, your entire body felt like it would crumble.

You tried your darndest to not cry. To not show your grandparents how much his departure was hurting you. Futile is what they would call it, your sobs were becoming louder as your grandfather drove back home, hoping to get there before night caught up to you all. 

Nothing good ever comes out of crying. You’ve known this for a while, for you and your grandmother crying only continues to further make you miserable. Not like the relief it brings your grandfather and Jaehyun, that’s something you think you’re both cursed on.

It wasn’t too far on the road that you kept missing him. Regretting not carrying the film strip with pictures of you both to look at him at every moment now. Your only token of his existence came from the piece of paper between your fingers. Flapping around with the harsh air coming in from your grandfather’s rapid driving.

You believe it smells like him, Jaehyun’s soft musk that you love with all your being. It’s even warm from his grasp, and his pretty handwriting taunts you, letting you know it was permanent on it unlike with you. The paper will remember Jaehyun’s actions against it, it has proof, not like you who will rot at the fact that his actions can be erased easily. What’s worse is that the paper continues to torture you, freeing itself from your fingers and flying out of the car at a rate that even if your grandfather stops you won’t catch up to it nor find it.

“No!”

Your words are useless and frightening to be heard from the elders who question what happened. You tell them between sobs, losing all composure. Hunching over yourself to cry against your knees. This was it, you knew it was too good to be true. Your only hope relies on the letter Jaehyun will send you.

Letters that will never arrive.

Questions. There’s plenty of those that have plagued Jaehyun’s mind since he left. He remembers leaving on great terms but as the months progressed his letters were left unanswered. If he had taken in the home phone number or Gabby’s he’d call for them years ago. Instead he found himself at the front door of the place he once called home with a panic rushing through his blood stream but hopeful nostalgia in his heart. 

There was a doorbell outside of the patio door, it had been painted orange. Very fluorescent, it reminded him of Gabby’s store. He had passed by it on his way here, buying a few beers like the day he learnt he had to go back. She didn’t remember him and he made no effort to remind her. Some things are better left in the past.

He didn’t hear many animals inside and it worried him, scared of how much change had been done. It took a couple of minutes for the door to be answered. Received by the presence of a kid he didn’t know but seemed to be around three years old.

“Who?” He looks at Jaehyun quizzically, tilting his head like Ollie used to do. “Um… is Mr. and Mrs–”  “Don’t open doors, how many times do I have to tell you that!” 

Well there’s a voice he recognized. Jaehyun stood up straight, looking up from the kid to the owner of the voice. When both took in the image of the other, Ollie was the first to take Jaehyun into an embrace. So much giddiness and joy in his squeal that he felt like that nineteen year old again. Even his grasp is childish and brute, shaking Jaehyun around. Jaehyun laughs, squeezing Ollie in return.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back! When did you get here?” The patio looked the same. Fewer sheep and goats in the pen, Camila was gone and replaced with a pig. The dogs were strangers to him and the cats seemed to have forgotten him just like the chickens.

Ollie led him to the kitchen, at least that remained the same and he felt comforted by that fact. The two took a seat not far from each other, firewood crackling in the chimney to bring them warmth. Jaehyun handed him a beer bottle, cheering for his return and Ollie’s growth. 

“Why didn’t you think I’d return? I promised you all I would.” Jaehyun smiles, wiping away the alcohol residue from his lips. Ollie shrugs, doing the same. “You never kept in contact so after a few months of not getting your letters we lost hope. I was really mad at you for the longest time… I thought you had just abandoned us… Y/n.”

Jaehyun is aware of the spite in his tone but he can’t help but feel vindicated for something that isn’t true. His eyebrows furrow, leaning over the table for Ollie to feel his confusion. The younger one tilts his head like the boy from earlier.

“Ollie, I kept sending letters nearly every week for the past five years. I thought you all were the ones to leave me in the cold. What do you mean I didn’t keep in contact?” The roles seemed to have reversed. Ollie mimicked Jaehyun’s stance, elbows on the table while downing the remains of his drink.

“We never got a single letter. Pa was so disappointed he cried often about it. Ma didn’t but it was obvious in the way she took care of her plants. Your departure was enough but you really hurt them after that, they saw you as a son, you know.” Ollie shakes his head, swatting a fly away to avoid looking at Jaehyun.

“And Y/n… you really ruined her, Jaehyun. She would spend days in your room hoping to find an address or a phone number. At least to reproach your actions but instead she would cry herself to sleep in there. Her parents had to take her back home after a year, so she found a job and Ma and Pa were taken in by their daughter. She was doing better by then but still had to stay in the city just in case. They left me to take care of the house but it’s not the same.” 

Ollie’s voice is no longer harsh, it’s hurt. Jaehyun can’t help but blame himself with how things unfolded but he was sure he wrote those letters. He kept copies of them to recall everything he once said to you and them and if he had known you never received them, he would’ve bought them.

“I-I…” He sighs, “I promise I sent the letters! I made sure to drop them off at the publishing house’s mailing room. I can’t believe this…” His hand comes to his forehead but Ollie shrugs, picking at some peanuts he had laying around. “Beats me then. Why didn’t you visit in that case? We waited long enough.” 

Reality is that there will always be evil lurking around and seeing how this place brought you joy and peace, the publishing house did everything in their power to yank it away from him. Jaehyun isn’t a bubbling author full of life and hope. No, Jaehyun is a bleak cynical writer who dwells on the hatred he has for the house and manifests it through broody characters that find no meaning in life. If they had to bring that back, they would. He can have his one train wreck of a joyful book but newcomers have to go back to what they were. 

Jaehyun’s head hangs low, all excuses feeling useless. “Manger and publisher didn’t let me. We spent two years editing the final draft and by the following, publishing was in the works but the investors tried everything to change it that we had to fight for another year or so. I wasn’t even allowed to visit my parents, they had to come to me. Isn’t that insane?”

Ollie nods, sympathy and pity muddling on his face. Cruelty at its finest.

“We only traveled for promotions at the end of last year once it was published and some months after this one but I ‘escaped’ if you will and here I am.” His smile twists to the side, dawning upon him that misery will accompany him everywhere he goes.

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what? It’s not your fault.” Jaehyun hands him another bottle. Ollie nods, “I know, but things could’ve been different if you didn’t work in hell.”

The two laugh, clinking their bottles again. All was lost but one thing and that was the hope of Ollie helping him connect with you and explain it all. He didn’t want you to have such a bad image of him when all he’s ever done is show you how much he loves you.

“What have you done with your life then?” “I got married and had a kid. The brat from out there.” 

The kid had been playing with the hens outside the sprint door. Cats surrounded him and reminded Jaehyun of Ollie when he used to play with the animals while pretending to be doing labor work. 

“Looks just like you.” The younger hums. “He’s just like me too.” The two laugh heartily, reminiscing on your grandfather’s laugh. 

He hesitates for a moment but ultimately asks. “How’s Y/n doing?” There’s longing in his voice but the look in Ollie’s eyes tells him something isn’t right. The fact that he’s holding back a cough, a grave clue. The younger one wants to stall but knows that eventually he’ll find out if he keeps looking. 

“Y/n is soon to get engaged…” Like a bucket of cold water, Jaehyun feels his arteries clog and his body run cold, turning stone hard. “She’s been seeing a guy from work for the past two years, they relocated him to somewhere in Maranello, and now they’re living there. He sent a letter asking me to be there for when he proposes… I got the letter yesterday actually.” 

Ollie handed him the letter still inside the envelope. “He’s a nice guy but lacks some sense. He treats her well and provides for her but I’m not sure if it’ll thrive.” 

The now father stands up with a bucket of corn kernels, calling his child to feed the chickens while they’re all huddled together. He gives Jaehyun one last look with a mischievous smile plastered on his face.

“You’re welcome to stay, in your old room or here.” Jaehyun thanks him. “Landline has long overseas calls now, do with that as you will.” A toothy reassuring grin, Ollie walks out of the home leaving Jaehyun to his vices.

He gives the boys one last look, gaze dropping to the letter and reading over it around four times. It lacks emotion, it’s formal and only demonstrates excitement when describing your work on the garden. The only thing that reminds you of this place now that you’re miles away. Behind it is a letter written by you.

‘Very well, I’ll send you a care package later, Ollie. I wanted to remind you that we have a new phone so I’ve written it down. Don’t forget to write it down in the contact book or you’ll have to find a way to call me this time!

I love you, Gremlin, take care!

Sincerely, Y/n.’

If the angels weren’t clear as day, then he was stupid if he didn’t take the opportunity. 

Jumping out of his seat to the bar, Jaehyun stumbles to grab the phone, nothing like Gabby’s old dinky phone. He dials the foreign numbers, fingers tracing over your written name to feel the connection you did with the paper that lasted you a measly few hours.

“Hello?”

That sweet voice transported him five years to the past. Trembling within the walls of his brain and heart, waking up whatever joy he once felt before leaving this wonderful place. Even when your voice seemed aggravated from the silence on his end while garnering courage, he felt alive again.

“Hello?!”

He sighs, clutching to the phone for dear life, facing the outside allowing the sun rays to fall on him like the day he rested over your exposed body to feel your heart and soul envelop him in the love you once –and he hopes you still have– had for him.

“Y/n–” “...” 

The hesitance hurts, old feelings swarming in like a desired plague. You won’t ever forget that voice.

“Jaehyun…” “I remember everything.”

[jangmi-latte]

you just know how much of an impact lilia had on malleus when — the time he still doesn't know about lilia's contribution to his life — he would run away/secretly escape from the castle and visit lilia from time to time in his little cottage in the forest. he doesn't like it back home and prefers to stay in a very homely and small cottage where it's full of life. heck he probably still appreciates lilia's cooking since lilia cooks out of LOVE, not just to keep him alive. despite it being deadly

it's how much he looks up to lilia when it was also him that introduced ice cream to malleus, when he had his tantrums, when he didn't know how to control his magic, how they'd play fight all the time (even until now). he even was willing to assist lilia when it comes to looking after little silver. it was lilia that gave him the confidence and strength and he KNOWS that but it must've been so painful knowing the full truth.

damn it he even listens and cowers to lilia if lilia's mad/scolding him because NO ONE DOES back in his home so how would he learn?? malleus doesn't even like being acknowledged as a prince. that's why he's so admirable/attached towards the mc because they're clueless about his real nature and the mc sees mal for himself. which is what lilia does because heaven forbid lilia doesn't care about mal's title 🥹 he's putting that draconia ass to his place just like he does to his mom. and may i remind you, most of the royal duties were forced on mal leaving him no room to make mistakes and just be...a young fae (ie. during his birthday he needs to do royal stuff as 'acknowledgement' since his birthday is a national holiday in his country). meanwhile, lilia just lets him play and do whatever he wants until he needed to interfere.

if you see malleus and leona's bickering, lilia can actually sense that mal's enjoying it and he fully supports that ideal because again and again he knows malleus needs it as part of growing up. damn it i hate the royal household of briar valley. when leona commented that malleus is so lucky to have everything and be acknowledged, best believe that malleus doesn't even like it. while he's being acknowledged, he's not evolving as a fae. he's just forced into a space where he's not himself. and leona's being ignored by his own senate but gives him to freedom to be and do what he wants. lilia is giving him THAT kind of freedom. a father. the rightful father figure that he NEEDS.

do you see the juxtaposition? do you see how important lilia is now to malleus' life? because damn well the senate of briar valley's deadass eyes don't. like come on y'all dead just STAY DEAD FFS‼️‼️🗣️🗣️

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Wanna Make Purple?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After one woman takes a look into your studio, she suggests hosting a class so others may enjoy the art of finger painting. Youn thought she wanted to know about the class so she could join. No, it’s her son who walks through the door and turns your world upside down.

Square Filled: diana reid for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your small studio in the bustling city of Quantico is insignificant but you love it. You’re an aspiring artist who wishes to be featured in museums and have galleries open all over the country. If you work hard enough, you’ll get there one day. If you’re not in your apartment, you’re spending time in your studio that’s completely filled with art supplies, half-finished paintings, sculptures that you never finished, and furniture that’s paint-covered. You’re not a sculptor but you’re taking some classes to get better at it and broaden your artistic scope.

The curtains are open allowing natural sunlight to shine through the windows, and it gives your studio a homely feel to it. Even your apartment has bigger windows than it should because you love letting in natural light. The sun is setting which means it’s time for you to pack up and head back home for the night. You’re cleaning up the supplies you used when you notice someone standing outside the floor-length windows at the front.

The woman immediately leaves when she notices you looking but you don’t think much of it. Many people walk by when you’re in here to admire what you do so you’re not fazed by the woman. However, someone knocks on your door seconds after she leaves. You wipe your hands on your apron and open the door to see the same woman now standing right in front of you.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Sorry for bothering you but I couldn’t help but notice what beautiful art you have.”

You look back at your art and smile at the compliment. You like to do a lot of things to stay relevant but you feel happiest when you fingerpaint. You love getting down and dirty with the art and using what you have instead of what you can buy to create timeless pieces. Finger painting is more than just putting paint on your finger and making lines. It’s precision and knowing when you use your pinkie instead of your thumb or when you use a knuckle or your palm. You’re in control of every little thing so in the end, you can truly say you gave it all.

“Thank you. I have a lot of fun finger painting. I think more people should do it.”

“Do you offer classes?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Well, I’m here in Virginia for a little while so if you reconsider, I know someone who would be eager to take a class.”

“Thank you. I will think about it.”

The woman leaves shortly after but her suggestion stays in your head long after she is gone. Teaching a class? Do you even have time for that? With school and your own business, you’re not sure if you have the energy to teach a dozen students. If you can, how old should they be? Children or adults? No, don’t be silly. Yeah, adults are going to be a lot easier to work with. Hosting a class whether that be once a week or a few times a week is a huge commitment, but you always said more people should be finger painting.

A few weeks go by until you’ve convinced yourself that teaching a small class would be beneficial for you. If you can put that on your resume, it shows commitment and willingness to work with a team. Thousands of people are following you on social media, so that’s how you reach out to everyone that you will be teaching a small class on a trial basis. If it works, great. If not, then you won’t lose any sleep over it.

Dozens of people around the country wish they could be in Virginia to attend your class. If all goes well, you might be able to visit other places and teach more people. One thing at a time, Y/N. The ones that are local have expressed interest but none of the people online look like the woman who met you that evening in your studio. You’re not sure how to get ahold of her or if she has social media and thankfully, you don’t need to deal with it.

The woman walks past your studio while looking at her phone, and you leave to catch up to her before she is gone forever.

“Ma’am?” She turns and stares at you as if she’s trying to remember who you are. “Hi, you stopped by my studio a few weeks ago. You asked me if I was teaching any classes.”

“I did?” Something crosses her eyes and she smiles immediately. “Of course, I did! Have you reconsidered?”

“Yeah. I’m actually putting together a class this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“It’s at my studio at two in the afternoon on Saturday.”

“Perfect. Thank you for telling me.”

“Sure. I hope to see you there.”

You two part ways shortly after that, and you go back to prepping your studio to fit at least half a dozen people. You want them to have their own space so you spread out the canvases evenly throughout with a side table for them to keep their paints. Saturday comes quicker than you think and before you know it, your studio is filled with everyone who signed up for it. The woman you met isn’t here and you’ve been trying to find something to do to stall time, however, you’re already running ten minutes past two.

It sucks but you’ll have to start without her.

“Alright, thank you all for coming. I appreciate your eagerness to finger paint. No, I promise you that this isn’t like most finger painting is.” The door opens and a very tall and lean man walks in wearing jeans, a white shirt, a sweater vest over that, and a tie tucked between them. “Hi.”

“Sorry to interrupt but my mother signed me up for this class. Are you Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Well, Spencer, take a seat. There’s one in the back.”

“Thanks. Sorry for being late.”

Spencer scurries to the back of the class and takes a seat, and you continue what you are saying.

“As I was saying, finger painting is so much more than putting paint on your fingers. I’ll have another class next week to go more into it but I want you guys to get used to the feel of paint on your fingers. I want you to create lines, and connect them if you want, but for the first ten minutes or so, I want you to really get used to the idea of not using paintbrushes. Use any color you like and begin.”

Everyone chooses the color they want and squirts the paint onto the palette on the small desk next to the easels. Two girls in the front giggle like schoolgirls at getting down and dirty with the paint while two men are apprehensive about getting their fingers dirty.

“Don’t worry about getting paint everywhere. It’s washable.”

Everyone seems to be in good spirits and you give encouraging words where you can. You approach Spencer who is having a hard time keeping paint long enough on his fingers to create a straight line.

“Having trouble?”

“A little, I guess. I just…”

“Just what?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay if you don’t like finger painting. It’s not for everyone.”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t get the point of finger painting. It’s messy and unpredictable and it’s hard to control what the paint is going to do.”

“Really? You think finger painting is childish?”

“Yeah.”

“Clean your hand. Let me show you something.”

Spencer does as he’s told while you squirt green, blue, and pink paint onto the palette. You grab Spencer’s hand and barely dip two of his fingers into the blue and two into the pink. You press his fingers to the canvas lightly, creating little dots that will represent the petals on a lavender flower. Once done, you have him clean his hand so you can create the stems of the flower.

“See? Finger painting is more than just putting paint on the canvas. It’s about manipulating the art as a whole and controlling every aspect of it. Brushes are different. They might have benefits that this way doesn’t but I’ve always found it harder to control a brush than it is my own fingers.”

“Impressive,” he says, looking deep into your eyes.

Spencer is in awe of your work. He doesn’t know what to say to this. He doesn’t mind being proven wrong. In fact, he finds it very attractive when someone can outsmart him. Someone calls your name and you leave Spencer’s side to help her out, but Spencer can’t take his eyes off you.

Throughout the entire class, Spencer has a hard time focusing on painting because he can’t help but notice you. He keeps asking for help knowing he can do it but he really wants to feel you right next to him holding his hand. You don’t mind. Spencer is the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

It doesn’t hurt to play a bit.

After the hour is over, everyone clears out of your studio, eager for the next one. If all classes are like this, you might consider doing this more often. Spencer is the last one out but instead of leaving like he should, he closes the door so that it’s only you and Spencer alone.

“Good job today. With a few more classes, you’ll be an expert.”

“You’re the expert, not me.”

He gathers everyone’s paint tubes and places them in the box at the front of the class while you grab the palettes that you’ll clean later. You and Spencer meet at the last easel but neither of you pick anything up.

“You got a little something…” He gestures to his own lips. “You got red paint on your lips.”

“Like I said, it’s washable. It’ll come off with a shower. Plus, it’s non-toxic so it can get in your mouth and it won’t hurt you.”

“Good to know.”

He takes two steps closer to you and you’re suddenly aware of how tall and handsome he is. Your eyes shift down to his lips and you smirk slightly.

“You got blue on your lips.”

“Wanna make purple?”

You don’t have to answer him. Pulling him in and pressing your lips to his is a good enough answer in and of itself. Spencer pulls you closer by your hips and you wrap your arms around his neck. Damn, he’s even a good kisser. Whoever his mom is, you gotta thank her for bringing her son to your class.

x

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[spotlightlowlife]

Writing for Millie should be hella easy

Stereotypes and cliches can work.

Right infront of us we have a tought southern farm girl, already a half written character. Millie's family, the first full family we meet, who don't even get to say much were actually crucial for her character building, they're a big family who are set in their ways, they're loving but not supportive of Millie's choices in a very passive aggressive way.

All these episodes later, these points are barely touched upon.

We would learn the Millie likes attention, she enjoyed playing a character who was the coolest person on the scene who could show off

which makes sense if you look at her rowdy upbringing, which could also explains why she is giddy at Moxxie's grand gestures and adoration of her.

Yet why did she have to play a role and take herself out of her usual setting in order to enjoy herself? This made sense for Moxxie who's sensibilities and hesitations aren't heard and is constantly frustrated, but why give Millie a similar storyline (not the first time a couples stories were awkwardly and disproportionately merged)? Having moved far from her family, having a supply of attention on tap from her biggest fan of a husband, working with a coworker she gets along fine with Loona and Mille worked together just fine when Blitzø and Moxxie got snatched, there were no differences between them, they actually appear to have hardly engaged with eachother?

and a boss who she's on excellent terms with in their small company, a boss who's intrusive ways she sees no issues with

which could also go back to having a big, noisy, busy body family who are slack with respect and boundaries something many people can relate to, why exactly did she need this moment in the spotlight?

Perhaps she's phased by being friendless?

Loona is

I she even friendless? Who knows. Her relations don't matter outside being a plot device, she even got sidelined in her families episode several times because it served to introduce Striker and show how much of an outsider Moxxie is.

On the topic of relations

Why do Millie and Moxxie have the same ex?

Why did neither of them know this?

What difference did it make?

Why such hostility?

No reason, nothing matters, none and ?

An ex would have been yet another person needed to give her some content but it would have been character building none the less.

Where did they meet and what would have been the mutual setting that lead to this guy being in both their lives then them coming together?

Has Millie had a life away from the farm as a single woman or did she leave home for Chaz? So many possibilities. Being that she is the stereotype rough and tumble country girl, she could have consciously decided to go to the city to hang about in places where those supposedly unlike her are so that she could stand out and be appreciated without having to compete with anyone. She would have her own thing going on and this would be a good way to meet hipster Chaz and thespian Moxxie.

Of course, Millie could have shown up one day and met Moxxie on the job.

Blitzø and Moxxie being the buddy cop type lead characters is fine, it's clearly the dynamic that's intended and on the few occasions we see them working together this is what we get.

The lack of characters doing the jobs we are told they do is an issue that affects all characters.

Being a side character should offer a load of flexibility, not having to carry the story offers room to be busy doing irrelevant stuff, or serve as a voice of reason or scepticism to help move the plot forward, side characters can wrap up side plots writers can't be bothered with, but side characters being ignored serves nothing.

There have been shows that have a leader and their more competent sidekick who quietly does the work and never shares in the credit.

This could work for Mille, however dispite her lack of content, she is not the quiet sidekick. We are sold a praised and admired bruiser whose performance isn't up for criticism, someone not always clued up when faced with a challenge but that's fine, challenges are rare and she's someone we have no reason to believe is a pushover, she is also someone happy to have more of a say but also fine with how things are. OK, what next?

Neutral.

Why not commit and tone her up?

Play on that country bumpkin casting. So far Millie is the fun and violent scrapper which fits but this role is also totally appropriate, someone is going to fill it, other than that she's, just there, with no say.

In and out of work, why not have her behaviour be socially neurotic, inappropriate, possessive and apathetic?

Why doesn't she stand up for Moxxie more? Is the casual workplace bullying something she's used to, comparable to the regular fun mockery that circulates throughout the family home/town banter etc? Is she used to not being heard? Growing up not having her own things, having to answer to someone, ignorance, comparassion and lack of personal space could result in someone who doesn't like being challenged or ignored, doesn't like a lack of control but has been sheltered enough to not take consequences too seriously? Anything goes after all.

It works for Blitzø, whose modest and tragic past, isolation, guilt and loneliness has lead to a sympathetic, overbearing and desperate hustler

I actually think Millie's character is fine but is she just a decent side character who is only 'fine' because she's underutilised? I'm not sure?

[gothgril69]

Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader Royalty!AU

Summary: You dream of another life, a simpler one under the rays of the warm sun, where you find love and your brothers live happily.

But you're destined to serve, to be the black sheep of the family and married off to whoever your father pleases because your parents can't seem to harbor any love for you. Your brothers will serve in the war, side by side with their Chevaliers, and you'll be left to pick up the pieces or die trying.

And the one you thought always hated you, will be right by your side to catch you when you fall.

Overall Warnings: themes of sexism, minor character death, angst, depression, minor character death, smut (please check ao3 for all tags)

Chapter warnings: smut MDNI

Chapter Length: 7.7k

ao3 link

Historia and Ymir stop dead in their tracks, turning to you with wide eyes. Historia looks concerned, while Ymir stares at you as if she’s already been betrayed – you understand what it looks like.

“We are not allies,” you blurt, facing them to explain yourself. “I can assure you they are our enemies, the same as you.”

“You better explain yourself,” Ymir sneers at you, stomping forward through the open doors of their castle. You watch her short dark hair, tied loosely at the nape of her neck, sway slightly along with her hips accentuated by the trousers she wears.

“You must understand our hesitancy,” Historia tells you softly when Ymir disappears around a corner. “Things are changing.” 

Her blonde hair is braided, two sides pulled to the back, to allow you to see her features clearly. She’s beautiful, truly, and you can see how Ymir could fall for someone like her – they balance each other well. Although, you know Historia would not hesitate to do what’s best for her own country.

“I want to work together,” you tell her honestly. “If you’re willing, but I understand if you’re not and we’ll simply move on.”

“Let’s get you inside,” she tells you with a gentle hand placed on your arm.

She leads you inside the modest castle, Levi taking place behind you along with Erwin, Hange, and Miche. Navarre does not flaunt their wealth like Mirlenas does; dark stone brick walls lining even the interior of the castle, simple torch sconces lighting the way with minimal windows providing extra light. The floors are stone as well, but it still feels clean and wide open.

Historia leads you down a hallway. “We can discuss things in our meeting hall,” she gestures to an open doorway, a guard standing by with a blank face and cropped blonde hair. “Thank you, Nanaba.” The guard nods.

The meeting hall has wood floors, but they’re nothing like the patterned parquet flooring at home. A grand, round table is centered in the room, twelve chairs surrounding the mahogany surface, and you take a seat facing the doorway, but not quite directly across. Levi takes a seat next to you and you’re grateful, followed by Erwin and Hange sitting next to him. Miche stands guard by the door as Historia addresses you.

“Give me a moment with Ymir.” She gives you a sad smile. “She’ll come around.” You nod, and she takes her leave with Nanaba closing the door behind her.

You know very little of Navarre’s customs, your father only ever talking down about them and their “debauched” ways of living. They were more progressive than Mirlenas by far, sexuality and gender being something that was looked at far more loosely than Mirlenas. You admire them for living so freely, apart from the standards your society typically upholds. You wonder if Auguste would have felt more at home here, if Erwin feels as though he could have lived a life with him. You frown.

“If she even thinks about laying a hand on you,” Levi grumbles angrily next to you, a scowl evident on his face.

You sigh softly, appreciating his protection, but also anticipating a conversation later. You place a hand on his that rests on his thigh, rubbing your thumb back and forth across his fingers, and the tension in his shoulders seems to dissipate slightly. You understand, he’s worried about everything – so are you.

The doors open shortly after, a seemingly less irate Ymir striding through the doorway with Historia by her side – although her features are still in their natural state of annoyance. She takes a seat directly across from you while Historia takes hers across from Levi. “From the beginning,” she snaps, gesturing with her hand loosely before crossing her arms over her chest.

You tell her everything; how Zeke ambushed your brothers – you don’t miss the tension returning to Levi – the letter he sent you, every detail about the journey intended for Zaramund to negotiate until a storm caused your ship to crash on their shores. Historia lets out small gasps through the whole thing, and you notice how her eyes tear up when you mention your brothers’ deaths. Ymir’s eyebrows are slightly less furrowed by the time you finish explaining your side of things, her anger turning into reluctant understanding.

“I am so sorry about your brothers,” Historia mutters, wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. “I am glad you landed on our shores before you arrived at Zaramund.”

“Thank you. I am as well,” you tell her gratefully.

Ymir speaks before you can continue. “You must know the state of Kaslogon before you start your journey again.” She sighs, and for the first time she looks tired, a hand placed on her forehead as she supports herself on the table. “You’re going to hate this.”

“We have a plan,” Erwin speaks up.

“Yeah?” Ymir lifts her head. “You can probably forego following that.” She hesitates, looking over at Historia for approval – Historia nods. “Grisha and Carla Jaeger are dead.”

Your lips part in shock, the hand resting gently on Levi’s now squeezing tightly as you try not to panic.

You’re too late. Zeke has enacted his plan and already killed his parents.

“What about Eren Jaeger?” Hange asks, their face curious as you process.

“Survived, but his location is unknown,” Historia says softly. “Apparently it was an assassination– killed by poison.”

“It was Zeke,” you tell them. You emphasize his point in his letter that made it known he would do anything to have you and stolen land.

“I’m going to kill that man,” Levi says on your right, still holding your hand but using the other one to press a fist into the table. 

“Well,” Ymir hums. “Seems we actually have something in common. He’s a tyrant, and once he’s secured you he’s going to come for Navarre with full force.”

“He won’t be securing anything,” Levi growls. Erwin raises a hand to him, gesturing for him to relax. You can tell it makes him more angry, but he obeys regardless and sits with his lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched.

“Our plan involved your help once we found ourselves in your territory,” Erwin starts. “I believe it’s in both of our best interests to work together in this war to stop Zeke.”

Historia looks over at Ymir, sighing softly before she looks back at Erwin. “We agree,” she says. “I wish no harm against Mirlenas despite our differences, and I do not wish for Aeron to suffer such a fate from the hands of Zeke Jaeger.”

“We’re willing to provide you supplies,” Ymir continues on for Historia. “Whatever you need to end this war before it goes further into our territory. I hope whatever you have planned will end with peaceful negotiations, but Zeke is a mad man.”

You look over at Erwin – he’s smiling. “Zeke himself can be handled, but I fear it will end with bloodshed.”

—

Your guest bedroom is smaller than the ones you have in Mirlenas, with just enough room for a full size bed and a vanity. Levi stands guard outside your door, and you didn’t miss the look of longing he gave you when the door was closed and Miche gestured to show him his own room. You’ve been spoiled recently, able to share a bed with him throughout your travels and to constantly be with him.

You’re pacing the room, fidgeting with the plain cotton skirts Mrs. MacLerie had given you. Should you bother him in the hallway, request that he stay the night with you? You fear being too attached, too reliant on him, when you should be able to handle sleeping alone for one night before your journey resumes. Your sleep is just so uninterrupted with him, nightmare-less – dreamless. His arms wrapped around you is what makes you feel safe alongside his promises of always protecting you. You’re his now, and he yours.

You sigh, and swing open the door with a roll of your eyes at your behavior. Levi immediately straightens up off the wall, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows and concern. You don’t have to say a word for him to understand, and you can see in his eyes that he’s grateful you want him inside. He steps through the doorway as you step aside, and your nerves are back again when he doesn’t say anything.

“We should talk,” you say, your voice sounding small. You cringe at your words, knowing if they were said to you that you would immediately panic. “Everything’s fine,” you blurt out when you see his mouth open – it snaps shut.

He ponders for a moment. “Okay.”

You frown, and begin pacing the room again. He sits down on the edge of your bed, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“We are equals,” you state. You cast a side glance over at him, seeing him staring at you with a blank face – you look down again. “If we’re going to do this… If we’re going to negotiate with Zeke, I’m going to need you by my side regardless of the decision I make. I’m an inexperienced Queen, I know, but you’ll make me look like a fool if you question my authority.”

You keep pacing, nerves getting the best of you as you continue to fidget with the fabric of your skirts. You desperately want to break the habit, and you force your hands by your sides as they end up in fists instead.

Levi stares at you as you pace back and forth, fists now clenched by your sides instead of incessantly pulling at the threads in your skirts. He hates hearing that man’s name, the same man that killed your brothers and Furlan, the same man that killed his own parents. Levi feels this urge to protect you fiercely as soon as the name is mentioned – he’d do anything for you.

But he heard what you said, and he fears that he’s overstepped your boundaries when he didn’t mean to. He doesn’t know how to balance it, the unquenchable desire to be your protector, to love you, and the side of him that is still your loyal Chevalier. You’re right, and he knows that.

You’re startled by Levi grasping your hands, unfurling your fingers so you’re no longer pressing your nails into your palms, your head jerking up to meet his eyes. “You’re right,” he says softly. You stare into his eyes, those beautiful pools of grey that look at you so softly now. “You are my lover, but you are also my Queen. I trust you, and I will push down my instincts to protect you when you are fully capable.” His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb brushing the soft skin under your eye. “I fear there is going to be a moment where I can’t be there for you when you need me.” He lets go of your face, taking a step back as he frowns at the ground.

You stare at him for a moment, the overwhelming pressure in your heart making you speechless. You can see the frustration and sadness in his features as he stares down at the ground, jaw clenched. Memories of Auguste, Theo, and Furlan’s deaths no doubt passing behind his eyes, the hopeless feeling of despair overwhelming him. 

You step forward and reach out, a gentle finger under Levi’s chin tilting his head back up. “I am here now,” you tell him softly. “We are here now, and until we join the stars as well then we will both do what we can.” You press your lips against his in a soft kiss, gentle enough to feel the way he exhales in relief. “I cannot live without enjoying your presence fully now, Levi. We have bickered for far too long, and as long as we live I will take your protection as long as you will allow me to protect you,” you whisper against his lips.

His eyes are closed as you look at him with half-lidded eyes, his lips slightly parted as he awaits more of your lips against his. His hands find your waist, and he gently tugs the laces of your corset free. “I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he whispers, eyes still closed as he removes your garment. They open just slightly. “I’m yours.”

You kiss him, firmly molding your lips against his as they move languidly together. Your hands find the cravat tied around his neck, fingers nimbly untying the fabric to cast it aside as Levi’s hands bunch up the fabric of your skirts to lift over your head. You only part for a moment to help him rid the fabric from your body, his fingers untying the flimsy skirt support around your waist as your own begin unbuttoning his blouse. Your lips come in contact again. He shivers under your touch, casting aside the skirt support and assisting you by lifting his blouse over his head by the collar once you’ve unbuttoned it enough.

You don’t immediately connect again, taking your time to relish in the view of Levi in just a pair of trousers before you. You’ve never seen him shirtless before, only a peek at his abdomen when he would wipe his brow free of sweat during a rigorous training session, but you had never paid much attention to the man. Now you openly ogle at him, staring shamelessly at the curves of his muscles, the way they flex slightly under your watchful eye, the way coarse dark hair trails down from his naval and disappears under his trousers. His hair is slightly tousled from his shirt being swept over his head, dark bangs barely hiding the lustful gaze he looks at you with. He’s always been remarkably handsome, piercing grey eyes, sharp, but soft, features, and you’re so grateful you’re the one that gets to see him so closely.

Levi does the same to you, openly staring at the way your nipples pebble under the thin cotton chemise provided to you. He’s never seen you like this before, not even when his hands grazed your sides in the countryside of Navarre, your back being turned to him and body being hidden under the sheets. Your hair is still down, it’s natural texture brushing over your collarbones and the nape of your neck – it’s grown longer since the start of your journey. Your curves are slightly silhouetted by your chemise, the short sleeves cupping your arms so your shoulders are free. The way your décolletage is revealed to him makes his heart palpitate, your skin sloping down to your breasts that are only hidden by thin, white cotton. You are such a beautiful woman – Levi curses himself for waiting so long to admit it.

You bravely step forward again, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of Levi’s trousers. He brushes your hair behind your ear. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, grabbing your hands to stop your process.

“I owe you,” you smile at him and lean in to kiss him again, freeing your hands from his to continue.

“You owe me nothing,” he whispers against your lips, his hands coming up to cup both sides of your face.

“Please– let me please you,” you breathe, begging for just a small taste of him, anything. You walk him back to the bed when he doesn’t openly oppose, guiding him to take a seat when the back of his knees press against the edge of the mattress. Your fingers finally finish unbuttoning his trousers as you kneel on the ground, gently pulling them, along with his undergarments, down as he lifts his hips to assist you and kicks them off to the side with his shoes.

You openly gape when his cock springs free, already hard and inflamed at the tip as it leaks a small amount of clear fluid. You look up at him, eyes doe eyed and innocent, and Levi bites back a groan at the sight. “You don’t have to,” he tells you honestly, because he can tell you might be overwhelmed by the pressure of performing well for your first time. 

“I want to,” you insist.

Your lips are barely parted as Levi brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, pushing past and watching as you immediately close your lips around it to suck on it. You pull your mouth off with a pop, your cheeks flushing at the sound as you keep looking up at him. He looks patient, blank features staring down at you with only the kind look in his eyes telling you that it’s okay if you back out now, that he’ll still hold you tonight while you sleep.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you take him in your mouth, lips wrapped around the head of his cock with hollowed cheeks. The gasp Levi let’s out is unexpected, and you savor the sound of his unabashed moan that escapes him when you take him further. His skin is slightly salty as you wrap your tongue around him, coaxing another soft moan from him as he gathers your hair to hold it back for you in one hand, establishing a grip against your scalp. You’ve never done this before, but you try your best based on instinct.

“Fuck,” Levi moans, his chest heaving up and down as you bob your head. “How–” Levi let’s out a small whine when you push down further, determined to take him fully as you close your eyes and feel the dark hairs on his skin brush against your nose. “Christ, Aeron– shit– you’re gonna make me cum.” You gag slightly and pull back, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as you use your hand to slide up and down the rest you can’t quite fit. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, tears forming on your waterline and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. God, you’re a sight to behold, and Levi pulls back on your hair to lift you off of him when he feels his climax approaching fast, your hand still pumping him to completion. He can’t remember the last time he finished this quickly even by his own hand.

His cum spurts in white hot ropes against his abdomen, coating his skin as you watch his eyebrows furrow with pleasure, eyes closed and mouth agape in silent ecstasy. His breathing is labored when he comes down from his high, cheeks flushed as he opens his eyes to look down at you staring up at him in awe. He’s beautiful, strikingly so, and being the source of his pleasure has your own stomach twisting in knots as your clit throbs.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, assisting you as you stand up, wobbly from being on your knees on the hard wooden flooring. You sit down next to him, grabbing at the skirts on the ground to wipe him clean. “I guess Mrs. MacLerie doesn’t need those back,” he mumbles, taking the fabric from your hands to wipe his abdomen.

You laugh lightly, feeling as though you’re walking in the clouds now. “No, I don’t think so,” you mutter, leaning into his side to kiss him softly. It’s slow, gentle, as he relaxes under your touch and you move to straddle him, hands cupping his face as you swing your leg over his. You can’t get enough of him, desperate to feel all of him against you, desperate to feel his cock throb inside you and coat your walls instead of his abdomen.

“Aeron,” he breathes against your lips, hands grabbing your hips as your chemise rides up and exposes your ass and cunt. You lower yourself down, gasping at the feeling of your wet pussy coming into contact with Levi’s soft cock. “What are you doing?” he gasps as you start rocking your hips back and forth, feeling his cock rub through your folds and into your clit, hardening as you continue.

“Feeling you,” you moan. “Oh.”

“I can’t claim you here,” he groans, but his hands do nothing but move to your ass as you continue to grind yourself against him.

“Stop being such a gentleman,” you mutter, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, wishing he would just fuck you right here and now as your arms drape over his shoulders.

“I am to a fault,” he mumbles, leaning forward to press kisses onto your neck. “I want to savor you, take my time with you.”

“Please, Levi,” you whimper. Every time you feel the tip of his cock rub your clit you feel breathless, stimulated, but not quite enough to make you feel euphoric.

His hand makes it’s way to your throat, establishing a gentle grip on the sides to just barely cut off the blood flow to your head and making you feel all the more inebriated off of him. “Then you can do it, my sweet girl,” he hums against your collarbones, lips trailing down to your chest above your breasts. “Make yourself cum all over my cock.” His voice is barely a whisper, and the lewd sound of your wet folds gliding over him make you blush.

Your head is tilted back, relishing in the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together as you let out a gasp. “Help me,” you whimper, needing just a little more stimulation than grinding against him provides. He doesn’t hesitate, the hand guiding you forward and back by your ass instantly coming in between your bodies to apply circles to your clit.

“That’s it,” he mumbles, pulling you back to him by your throat and kissing you as you whine against his lips. You pant through your open mouth kisses, eyes scrunched shut in concentration as he gets you off. You’re so close, desperation lacing it’s way into the sound of your breaths and moans as you reach the cusp of your climax. “Cum for me, amour– Fuck you’re drenching me filthy girl,” Levi groans, your breath mingling together as you both get lost in the feeling of each other. Nothing matters but him.

You cum hard all over him, eyes rolling back as he lets go of your throat to help you through it by grabbing your hip, his thumb still making circles over your clit. You practically black out, vision blanking as you feel nothing but bliss pulse through you. Levi guides you through it until you’re panting, head falling forward into the crook of his neck while his arms wrap around you to support you. His hands glide under your chemise, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back as it rides up your waist.

God, he can feel you clenching, drooling all over his cock that’s hardened again and he resists the urge to fuck you into the mattress. He can feel the mess of your cream dribbling onto his thighs, creating a sticky concoction of sweat and your cum to clean up in a moment, but he bares it for you despite his urge to immediately get clean. You’re ruining him, absolutely taking all of his willpower away when it comes to serving you – the woman he never thought he’d bend over backwards for, but he can’t imagine it any other way now.

You feel drained, and you’re not sure how long it’s been when Levi finally pushes your shoulders gently and a hand comes up to hold the side of your face. “You alright?” he asks softly. You nod, only a mumble coming out in response. A deep rumble of a laugh comes from him, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “So pretty when you’re fucked out like this,” he hums, his thumb gently swiping against your bottom lip. You give him a delirious smile in response.

“You stay?” you ask him softly, voice sweetened in hopes of him holding you as you fall asleep.

“Of course,” he murmurs, swiping leftover tears from your cheeks.

“You don’t care what the others might think?” you ask, head tilted as you lean into his touch.

“As if they don’t already know,” he mumbles. “Come ‘ere.”

He easily lifts you with him as he stands up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as he supports you with his hands on your ass. He carries you to the side of the bed, using one hand to pull back the covers as he supports you effortlessly, and lays you down under the sheets. “Stay here,” he whispers to you, and bends down to kiss your forehead.

Levi picks up his clothes that are scattered on the ground, buttoning up his trousers and throwing on his blouse – he doesn’t bother tucking it in or fixing his hair. He looks over at you and can’t help but smile softly at the way you’ve seemed to instantly fall asleep, the travels of the day finally catching up with you. He makes his way to the door, putting on his boots and shutting it as softly as he can behind him as he exits your temporary bedroom in search of warm water and cloth to clean you, and himself, up before he joins you in bed.

He wanders the halls, the dark stone contrasting the white painted wood he’s accustomed to in Mirlenas. He makes it down one hall on his way to the kitchen Miche had shown him earlier when he runs into Ymir herself, stopping as soon as he rounds the corner and she comes into view.

“Ah, guard dog,” she hums, smirking – the nickname makes the hair on his neck rise. “I see you had some fun tonight. Bedding an unmarried woman– a Queen at that? That’s quite brave for a Mirlenas knight.”

Levi isn’t sure if he’s gotten more bold because of where he stands with you now, but he has to bite back his curses at the woman before him. “It’s Levi.”

She laughs. “Alright fine, Levi,” she scoffs. “How’d you end up lucky enough to bed a woman like Aeron?”

He doesn’t bother correcting her, telling her that he hasn’t technically bedded you. “I was her brother’s Chevalier,” he tells her honestly, crossing his arms as he looks at her. “Hers in the last three years of his life.”

“Ah,” she says, gesturing for him to follow her – he hesitantly moves. “And you were there for their deaths? Witnessed them?”

Levi stills, footsteps pausing on the cold stone floor. She turns around to face him, a split second of shock displaying on her features before she controls them again. He can feel the amount of fury showing on his face as he spits out through clenched teeth, “Do not–”

“Right,” she says and turns back around. “Sensitive subject.” Her footsteps continue forward and Levi reluctantly follows. She leads him through the corridors, long hallways that don’t turn too much to the point where he’ll get lost, and soon she’s opening a door and holding it behind her for him. The small room has linens on the shelves, and Ymir takes a few cloths down and throws them at him – he catches them easily with a scowl on his face. “You know, Aeron seems like a special woman, much better than her father,” Ymir continues while she walks out, clearly expecting him to follow. “She’s fiesty, and Miche tells me you got upset with her for revealing who she was at the gates.”

“I wasn’t–”

“She has courage,” Ymir interrupts, looking back at him over her shoulder. “And honestly, she’s the only one capable of taking down Zeke in the end whether she makes it or not.”

Levi scoffs. “As if she wouldn’t make it.”

She whirls on him. “Well then you better be there. Every step of the goddamn way,” she sneers. “Historia might have faith in Mirlenas, but the only person that’s shown me they can handle it is Aeron. Even Commander Smith himself seems like he’s acting on a hunch and me and Historia can’t afford a fucking gut feeling. If Zeke makes it here we’re done for.”

Levi’s fists clench around the white cotton cloths Ymir had given him and steps forward to meet her challenge. “You act like you know everything, but you have no idea what I’d do for her.”

“Would you die for her?” Ymir questions viciously.

“I would do anything for her. I would die the worst death if it meant she would be freed from whatever threatens her,” he vehemently tells her. “You know nothing. You know absolutely nothing about us, or the bond we share–”

“You’re mated?” Ymir takes a step back, bewildered.

“No–”

“How can you be bonded if you’re not mated?”

“We will–”

“Pray it’s not too late when you decide to,” she huffs and spins around, pushing a swinging door open to the kitchen as Levi follows her.

“She’s mine, and I hers,” Levi says, quieter this time. “Zeke won’t lay a hand on her even if it means my own death to protect her, and Kaslogon will have no rein over any more land. We’re fighting him ourselves and you should be grateful for the protection your country is being provided.”

Ymir grips the counter, her back facing Levi as he stands by the entryway. “We are,” Ymir mutters. “You’ve been gone too long.” She grabs a kettle of water and pours it into a small craft, shoving the already warm water into Levi’s grip. “Go.”

Levi wordlessly takes it from her and steps out, leaving Ymir to sit quietly in the kitchen.

She’s scared, Levi thinks as he makes his way back to you, and he can’t blame her. The only thing he fears is losing you, and he can sense that Ymir is only scared of losing Historia to a war they can’t win. He’s already tired and selfishly wants to live in the moments where it’s just you and him, when he’s holding you so close your heartbeats practically melt into one.

He exhales softly, looking down at the ground before he slowly enters the room to take care of you.

—

“Are you prepared for this?” Erwin’s voice cuts into your thoughts.

You’ve gotten yourself together, disregarding Historia’s attempts at sending in a handmaiden and opting to get yourself ready. You’ve braided your hair and styled it in an updo, something that will last the journey to Zaramund. Ymir had delivered fresh clothing for you and you’ve changed into the woolen skirts and cotton blouse, a thin chemise that was made out of quality cotton underneath, and a woolen cloak for your shoulders. You didn’t miss the look her and Levi shared as she stepped into your room and spotted him – you didn’t ask about it, only glad they’ve come to some understanding it seems.

Your temporary horse whinnies under you, a dark mare that made you miss Saxson deeply, made you wonder if he was happily grazing next to Arwen on the coast of Mirlenas. Historia and Ymir provided supplies for you in a small wagon led by two smaller horses, and the rest of your soldiers were provided their own. You expressed your gratitude to both Historia and Ymir, earning a kind smile accompanied by a hug from Historia and a reluctant nod from the latter telling you to “not mess this one up.”

You’re almost positive you caught the upturn of her lip when you smiled back at her.

Erwin sat proudly on his own stallion by your side, regarding you with such care he rivaled Levi now in the way he wordlessly vowed to protect you. “Yes,” you simply answer him. There’s no need to elaborate on how your stomach twists into knots whenever you think about stepping foot inside the castle home to the Jaeger family. How could you ever be truly ready?

The easiest way to reach Zaramund would be to cross the bay between Navarre and Kaslogon territory, but it would leave you vulnerable to Zeke’s soldiers on the coastline – you’re not quite fond of water yet anyway. Instead you would be crossing through the valley of the mountain range that separated the two countries, a small path between towering mountains that would be covered in snow this time of year. From there it would be an easy trek into the capital city, but your nerves still threatened to overcome you.

And it started off simple enough, with two days passing by easily as you trekked across Navarre’s hillsides, rolling green making it easy to navigate and allowing horses to graze. Plenty of streams intertwined throughout the land, providing drinking water for your traveling squad. It was peaceful, nice even, while you appreciated the landscapes around you as your horses made their way through, or while you knelt down next to streams to fill the leather canteen provided to you.

It wasn’t until you reached the start of the valley that your group came to a full stop. The map given to Erwin was clearly deceiving, showing more rolling green hills in between tall mountains, streams flowing down from the mountainside. Granted, it was winter, but the sight before you was not at all how you imagined or were told about.

The earth was brown, no longer covered in grass and resembling a desert instead with visible drought lines along the side of the mountains and clear signs of dried up streams. You couldn’t blame the Queens, they warned you they haven’t had anyone travel these areas since the war began, and with a harsh winter already making it’s presence known far worse in Navarre than Southern Mirlenas, a drought before the snow melted was inevitable. 

The air was dry and chilled you to the bone as it swept in between the mountains, blowing the stray hairs that have managed to escape your tied up hair back. One hundred kilometers of this would have to be crossed to reach the other side where you had no idea about the terrain of Kaslogon. You’ve heard your father talk about how sparse it normally is, and you can only hope that in a twist of luck that the land spares you from it’s usual standing.

“We’ll stock up on water half a kilometer back and then make our way through,” Erwin announces to your soldiers. You give him a nod, tugging on the reins of your horse to turn her around and earning a disgruntled huff in return.

—

Any gods that may exist have never been on your side.

The sight was startlingly contrasted; white peaked mountains sloping down to dusty cliff sides. You were surrounded by snow you couldn’t reach, and dirt that had no life to it. You’re almost there – roughly seventy five kilometers have been trekked, and you’re just starting to grow weary as the sun sets. Shadows grow longer, the sky darkening and revealing the stars above your heads with some getting shadowed by the mountain tops.

“We should rest,” Levi speaks up, addressing Erwin. You’ve slumped down a bit on top of your horse, posture weak and limbs growing tired of riding all day. You’ll be on the outskirts of Zaramund tomorrow evening, but Erwin wants to camp just out of reach of the capital city so you can all gather the needed strength. 

I fear it will end with bloodshed. 

You hope that’s not the case.

All of the horses come to a stop, with Petra and Eld directing the horses towing the wagon to stop and allow access to supplies. You weren’t as prepared as you were in Mirlenas, settling for rucksacks instead of tents and hoping it wouldn’t rain on you despite the needed water. You hopped off your horse, beating Levi’s attempted assistance, and began helping set up camp. You didn’t know much, but you could at least help Petra gather supplies for cooking tonight's meal over the fire being prepared.

“We can take care of things,” Levi tells you, reaching into the back of the wagon for a crate – Petra glances over at you with slightly raised brows, taking that as her signal to leave your side to give you privacy.

“What kind of leader would I be if I let everyone do this for me?” you ask him, turning your body to face him with a hand on your hip.

He looks at you for a moment and then glances around to see everyone else busy with a task as the two of you are partially hidden behind the wagon. “Right,” he mutters and kisses your forehead. “I’m only letting you know that you can take a break if you need it.”

He walks away with a crate in his hands, a knowing look on his face. You frown in his direction before gathering more supplies for Petra.

“Thank you, Aeron,” Petra smiles at you when you hand her a pot and cooking utensils. It’s just the two of you as you both kneel down by the fire, settling in to hang the pot and get dinner situated for the rest of the group. You look up and spot Levi, discussing with Erwin and Hange, although you’re not sure what and can’t tell by the animated look on Hange’s face and the bored expression on Levi’s – Erwin is simply listening.

You hear it before you see it.

A gunshot rings out, the sound of a rifle piercing through the laughter and calm sounds of your soldiers setting up camp. Petra tackles you to the ground hastily, using her body to shield yours as she urges you to crawl with her under the wagon of supplies to take cover. Your eyes are wide, heart rate soaring with the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you hold onto her and she does the same to you.

Then you see it – them. Eld and Gunther are lying down in the dirt, blood pooling around their bodies as everyone frantically takes cover and grabs their weapons. You gag, choking back your tears and the fear that’s consuming you as you look onto the chaos unfolding. You miss the eye contact Petra makes with Levi before she’s pulling you out from under the wagon despite your protests, kicking up dirt as both of you scuffle towards him.

“Go!” Petra pushes you towards him, causing you to stumble forward and barely catch yourself before Levi is pulling you up with one strong arm. Your legs straddle the front of the saddle, your back pressed so tightly to his chest you can feel his frantic heartbeat.

He positions you in front of him on his stallion, using both hands on the reins with arms that cage you in as you frantically look around and the horse sprints forward. Mikasa is hidden behind part of the wagon, using it as cover as she aims a rifle up into the mountains, a determined look set on her features. Armin is next to her, crouched down and holding a musket as he watches her back.

Your eyes find Oluo next, lying on the ground with Petra leaning over him as she frantically shakes him. You gasp, and turn your head down when you see his knee cap blown out and blood leaking from his thigh like a geyser.

“Eyes forward Aeron,” Levi’s deep, comforting voice intercepts your dark thoughts. “I’ve got you.”

You feel obligated to listen to the smooth intonation of his voice, his words trying to pull you back from spiraling as your mind wanders to thoughts of your brothers and the way they probably suffered in death. You keep your eyes focused on the horn of the saddle, your hands holding it so tight your knuckles become lighter in colour. You have to trust Levi to get you two out of this, trust that Erwin, Hange, and your soldiers will make it out alive – you know you’re their priority and you hate it.

—

Levi rides throughout the night, your body nestled against his chest and in between his arms as his borrowed stallion carries him forward. You’re sleeping now after hours of traveling and worn off adrenaline. Your body is turned just enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder while one arm holds your waist tightly to make sure you’re okay, his arm remaining flexed to keep you secure.

He’s angry, scared, and desperate to feel safe again. He caught glimpses of the Kaslogon emblems on the men that attacked them, and he wonders why the hell you’re even going to negotiate instead of declaring an all out war with them. But he knows how you are, how desperate for peace you are without bloodshed.

He holds you tighter. You’re okay. You’re alive.

He didn’t check to see if anyone was okay, didn’t bother stopping the sprint of his horse just to see if any of his comrades were following him out of the mess. The decided campsite for the next evening is his destination, a marked spot on the map that’s in Erwin’s possession and Levi can only hope he makes it to the right spot.

He rides for a few more hours until he sees the lake that looks to be the same size as the one on the map, the sun making it’s way over the horizon and casting a soft glow onto your cheeks. He’s glad you got some sleep, and he’s glad you’ll have a whole day and night to rest and get your bearings before Erwin inevitably forces you to move into the capital city of Zaramund.

Levi pulls on the reins with one hand to have the horse gently come to a stop, a small huff coming from the animal that deserves to rest as long as it can before he drags it into hell again. You stir, a small mumble that Levi manages to smile at as he looks down at your pretty face resting against him. He lifts his hand from the reins, using a thumb to caress your cheek and wake you up further from your sleep.

“We’re here, mon cœur,” Levi mutters to you. You open your eyes and stare up at him, the swirling of your irises that are warmed by the sun taking his breath away. “You’re okay,” he whispers, to reassure you that he’s got you, that he’s taken care of you and protected you from harm, in your sleepy state. 

You remain quiet and tilt your head up, the soft press of your lips making him melt into you as your lips move gently against his own. He sighs when you break apart, soft breaths mingling with his as he leans his forehead against yours. 

You’re okay. You’re alive.

—

It’s well into the next evening by the time you hear the distinct sound of hooves running against the soft grassy earth around the lake. Levi keeps you and the horse hidden well, letting you rest after he’s woken up from a nap and feeding you with a rabbit he managed to catch with a simple trap. Your eyes are frantic as he pulls you against a tree with him, holding you close as he peers around the bark and out into the open plains of rolling hills.

You can feel the tension leaving his body as he let’s out a sigh of relief, his hold loosening on you ever so slightly and signaling to you that it’s not the enemy. You allow him to help you up, his hand firmly grasping yours to guide you out from cover.

Your eyes tear up immediately when you see Erwin riding strong on top of his white stallion, Hange next to him on their own horse. You feel the tears fall when you see their head wrapped in bandages, one eye covered with a small blotch of blood soaked into the fabric.

The rest of your soldiers follow suit, and your heart feels like it’s in your throat when Petra rides at the back of the group on top of your dark mare, her face covered in grief. You let Levi’s hand go and run to meet your soldiers, your friends. Erwin is the first to get off his horse, practically leaping off and handing the reins over to Armin next to him, and then he’s waiting for you with open arms as you hurl yourself into him.

He crouches down to hug you, large arms wrapping around your frame and engulfing you tightly as you cry into his dirtied no-longer-white blouse. He let’s go of you to check if you’re hurt, calloused hands swiping your hair off your face and holding your cheeks to get a good look at you. His touch reminds you of Auguste, and your hands come up to hold the back of his as you give him a small, sad smile.

Hange walks up next to you, and you don’t miss the look of shock when you abandon Erwin’s touch to give them a hug. “I’m okay,” they mutter softly, and you make a mental note to ask them about their eye later.

The rest of your soldiers say their hellos, sorrow permeating the air with so much thickness you could choke on it as the tears never leave your eyes. They find their spots on the grass, sitting down with exhaustion leaking out of their bones after tying their horses up to rest and graze on the long grass.

Your eyes find Petra again once Erwin and Hange leave your side to talk to Levi, and your already broken heart aches when you see her sitting atop your mare, her dejected spirit idle. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and walk up to her quietly, carefully, as if she was a hunted wounded animal seconds away from startling. 

“Petra, mon amour,” you mutter. She startles, big golden brown eyes looking down at you from her spot on top of your horse. Her hands are covered in blood, the front of her uniform stained red from holding her loved ones close as they die. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You hold her in your arms as she breaks.

[boosoonhao]

highways: in color

minghao x reader 4.8k words dystopian au sexism and totalitarian regime warning

minghao curls and uncurls his fingers around the handles of his bike; the leather of his gloves soft and coarse all at once at the palms of his hands. he swears he can smell the scent of paint and spray cans even through the fabric. if he focuses hard enough, he could count each splatter of color that stains his hands, even when he can’t see them. blue; like the color of the sky, like the color of the official logo of palatium, right by the knuckle below his index finger. orange, like fire, like heat, like the shocking and provocative frills of jun’s jacket; a slim, but still visible line across his right palm. a dot of green stains his pants.

secrets are dangerous, in a place like palatium. minghao tiptoes on a fragile line already; features blatantly other (his eyes are too large, they say, his nose too characteristic of his ethnicity. it’s too obvious he’s not from here) and his crimes too loudly spoken of. it’s almost dizzying, how fast the narrative changes, how quickly he’d gone from heroic rescuer to enemy of the state. wonwoo tells him to keep his head low, to close his ears to the whispers and accusations. minghao appreciates the advice.

he’s just not very good at following it. 

____________________

the thing that minghao misses the most, the thing that reminds him vividly, almost eerily of his home country, is painting. he’d been a commodity, of sorts, back then; words like ‘artist’ and ‘genius’ and ‘prodigy’ tacked onto his name, spoken in soft, admiring tones. colors splashed against canvases; yellows and reds and blacks and blues. smudges of color on his face, underneath his fingernails, the smell of wet, thick liquid.

there was a shirt he used to wear back then, whenever he painted. white, soft fabric and bold, black letters. what font was it again – times new roman? – what did it say? freedom? such a foreign concept. but minghao remembers that shirt, remembers the sensation of smooth fabric against his skin, and somehow that keeps him sane on the days when he feels like he might burst.

once he’s safely out of sight, tucked away in a private nook right outside town, he gets off his bike, rips the gloves off of his hands. he shrugs his backpack from his narrow shoulders, clutches at the straps as he steps over rotten wood and grey stone. the air smells almost clean here; the sound of leaves rustling in a faint wind making minghao’s ears twitch to attention. if he closes his eyes and pretends, maybe he could hear the hums of birds, the hurried steps of forest animals.

pretenses are important in palatium, they keep you alive. daydreams, on the other hand; they’ll end up killing you. something metallic and hollow smacks against something else inside of minghao’s bag. not too far now, he promises, as if the contents of his bag have minds of their own. or maybe it’s himself that he’s reassuring. who can tell, these days.

the cans of paint he got from one of wonwoo’s girls. wonwoo hates when people refer to them like that, does not like the implication. the girls don’t mind, especially not the one who had gotten minghao the cans. they know how much wonwoo puts on the line for them; they wear the title as a badge of honor. not that it matters. what matters is that the girl had smuggled paint for him. minghao doesn’t ask how, only listens to the way the cans clink together in his bag.

the abandoned house, he’d found on his own. creaking floors and moldy corners; it’s a wonder the building still stands. remnants of whoever used to live there lingers in every room; a sundress there, a golden pen there, picture frames with nothing in them. it’s the most haunted thing minghao has ever seen, but it’s his, in a sense, and nothing else really is anymore. the inside walls used to be white, he thinks, the exterior of the house a faded red. when he first stumbled upon the uninhabited home the inside had turned a dull sort of yellow-y color. when he enters now, there are colors everywhere; symbols and drawings of his own creation. it feels like walking into an alternative universe. a world of his own.

when he steps inside this time, though, there’s someone else there.

you’re staring at the wall directly in front of him, your back turned to him. you do not see him enter, but there’s no doubt that you hear the way the door moan as he pushes it open. for a moment minghao thinks he’s been caught; that you’re an enforcer come to take him away. he imagines every public execution he’s been forced to witness, puts himself right in the center of it; the mental image enough to block his airways. it’s not until you twist around to face him that he realizes that you’re a woman. he hates himself for his first thought, then; that he has the upper hand.

“ah,” you mutter, gaze dropping from minghao’s face to his hands; stained with color and pale at the knuckles with the strength of his grip at the straps of his bag. “so you’re the one who’s been painting my house.”

____________________

it’s not your house, per se, minghao finds out. it is– actually, it is quite an impressive story; your parents rebels way back when the peacekeeper first took to power. professors, the both of them, too smart, too educated to bow down as easily as most of the masses. their marriage had been ‘voided’, your mother promised to another man; a man more suited to her genetics. the house had been their summer home, at the time. a quaint little cottage. minghao suspects it must have been quite cozy, at some point.

they had managed to stay hidden for seven years, a feat so impressive that minghao doesn’t even believe it at first. you’d been born in the very room you’re both standing in, spent the first years of your life here.

and then the enforcers came.

that explains the two graves in the garden behind the house.

“in town they call me lee,” you tell him, a stubbornness tinting your tone, a sort of distaste covering your tongue as you utter the last name, the one shared by the orphans of palatium. “but that implies i’ve been saved,” you spit. “at least that’s the intention.” minghao understands what you mean, has seen the posters and heard the sermons about the charity of the silent nuns. what goodness they all possess, dedicating their lives to the unfortunate children whose parents are lost either to illness or to sin. that’s clearly not the way you look at it.

minghao glances around the room, at the walls and at the droplets of paint staining the old floors.

“i’m sorry for intruding,” he tells you uncertainly. it feels strange, offering an apology freely. he hasn’t done that since he lived in a free country. “and for ruining your walls.” minghao used to be very proud of his creative abilities, used to relish in the way people looked at his artworks in exhibitions. he feels awkward, now; exposed, almost as if he’s been doing something wrong. he has, he supposes. painting is, after all, illegal.

“oh no,” you breathe, turn your head back to look at the nearest wall. there was this town hall building in his country that minghao used to love visiting. a bright house made of bricks; a clocktower in the middle of it all, a garden on the right side. minghao’s never been particularly good at realism in his art, but somehow the painting reminds him of that building anyways. “it’s beautiful,” you tell him, voice soft and airy.

“where is that?” you ask, fingers gliding along the painting. his own fingertips itch as if he’s the one dragging his hand over the surface. he feels coarse canvases beneath his thumb. “you’re not from here, are you?”

minghao blinks. “you guessed that just from a painting?”

laughter fills the space, makes the room feel ridiculously large and horribly cramped all at once; the sound of your voice echoing through the living room and tickling at his neck. “no,” you admit. “everyone knows who you are.”

at that, he grimaces. the only way his existence in the middle districts could be any more eye catching was if they put up posters proclaiming his crimes, and the government’s mercy for letting him live in the middle districts rather than the lower. the more he thinks about it, the more surprised he is that they haven’t actually done that.

“i heard you got at least twenty people across the border before you got caught,” you whisper. it’s not something minghao hasn’t heard before, the words following him everywhere he goes. a scandal, they call it. unheard of. should be executed. he nods his head slowly, does not trust his voice. “that was very brave,” you continue, mouth curling into something sad, something strangely reminiscent of a smile. “i’m sorry this is your reward.”

____________________

most people minghao know are born into the country known as palatium; his friends the first generation of adults who know nothing but the closed off walls and the strict regime. he can’t help but thinking you, more than anyone else, has been truly exposed to what it means to be a citizen of palatium; what it takes– what it takes; what it steals, robs, rips away from you, strips and destroys and tears from the very crevices of your soul. the first time – that is, the time after the first – he finds you at the house after your somewhat unorthodox introduction, it’s behind the house. trees hang over the roof as if they threaten to cave the ceiling in, as if they want to consume the house entirely.

he’s not sure what possesses him to go looking for you; he’s already been at the house countless times without your presence. somehow, the house feels emptier, now. so he looks. it’s not hard to find you, there aren’t many places to hide, and when he spots your hunched over form through a window (there’s a draft there, as if the winds beckons him in your direction) he feels a sort of tug. for a moment he’s not even sure that he should approach. in the end minghao’s still too curious for his own good.

“the artist returns,” you murmur, back turned to him. that seems to be your way of greeting. minghao doesn’t know how he’d mistaken you for an enforcer the first time; as you stand in front of the two wooden crosses, there’s nothing that’s not small, vulnerable about you. distinctly feminine, though he can’t stand that even he has started thinking that way. it’s unnerving, how easily one’s mind is reshaped.

“i hope i’m not intruding,” he mutters uncertainly, gaze dropping to look at the graves. there are no names there, but then, there are probably no bodies either. bodies aren’t buried in palatium.

you shrug, a barely there lift of your shoulders. you turn to look at him. there is red along your lines, like a rim of blood framing your eyes. you’ve been crying. minghao understands the compulsion, he feels like he wants to cry all the time.

you rub at your eyes, unbothered by how obvious that gesture is. “of course not,” you tell him with a twitch of your lips. you lean your head back, glance at his backpack. “i know you usually come on mondays.”

when minghao was an artist, people sought him out all the time. twitter dms, small compliments while in the line at starbucks. he wasn’t a celebrity, but he was known enough to never be lonely. he had forgotten what it felt like to be sought after. to have your quirks remembered and accomodated.

“i was wondering,” you continue, clearing your throat. for the first time, you remind him of the women he’ll see in the streets in town; meek and docile and almost afraid to look a man in the eye. it’s not because the gaze is familiar, or the stance is the same, somehow you remind him of the meek women purely for the difference in your coyness. in those girls, the ones who seem to have given up on freedom (freedom; like minghao’s shirt, like the studio that smelled of paint and freshly picked flowers), diverted gazes are a sign of subservience.

subservience. what a word. what a backwards way of life. minghao remembers his mother talking about the marches she participated in when she was young; the demonstrations for equal rights and equal pay. he wonders what the women of palatium would think of such a thing.

in any case– when you divert your gaze, gnaw on your bottom lip as if unsure whether or not your words are appropriate, it does not look like, does not feel like subservience. it looks like having power, and choosing to give it away. it makes minghao tingle, in a way that he hasn’t in a long, long time. it makes him want to paint.

“i was wondering if i could–” you pause, and minghao does not doubt that you’re weighing your options. he thinks he can guess at your thought process just by looking at the way your eyebrows furrow, echoing the slight frown that curls your mouth. ‘on one hand’, you’re probably telling yourself. ‘he’s in the same boat, he’s breaking the law, too.’ you blink, hands tangling into the fabric of your worn, too big sweater. ‘on the other,’ you might argue, ‘he’s got a lot more to prove, a lot more to win by turning me in.’ clarity takes precedence in your expression; you’ve made up your mind. “if you could show me how to paint.”

half empty cans of paint clink and clank together in his backpack. if he closes his eyes, minghao can hear the sound of the wind, can pretend to hear the buzz of insects and the hum of birds. minghao doesn’t need to close his eyes, the sight in front of him is welcome, for once.

____________________

minghao’s gloves feel scratchy against his skin, feels like a sort of prison of their own. like they’re coiled around his throat rather than covering his paint stained hands. no one really asks any questions about them anymore, though some used to be very curious. seokmin still eyes him almost distrustingly, as if he’s hiding something. minghao supposes that he is; only wonwoo knows about the cans of paint.

“you’re different,” jihoon notes, nursing his black eye with a wet cloth against his face. minghao wonders if he knows who you are, if you grew up at the same convent. it’s a possibility, a probability, even. but minghao does not ask, has learned that questions are just as dangerous as confessions. there’s a tint of teasing coated on the fluid tones of jihoon’s voice. not for the first time, minghao thinks that the smaller man could have the voice of a singer, had singing been allowed in palatium. it would certainly suit him more than the fights in the underground. “have you finally assimilated?”

the word is a joke, more than anything else. a part of the speech the peacekeeper had held in order to use minghao to spread the government’s propaganda. look, they’d say. here’s a heathen, a sinner. we will give him a chance to assimilate, to understand that our way is the way of righteousness. minghao has never been further away from assimilation. he thinks about fingers covered in blues, in reds; in purple. he wonders if you ever got the stains off your skin. he should get a second pair of gloves, just in case.

he never sees you in town, though he knows you must live somewhere. there are ghettos and apartments reserved for the lees of the country; cramped rooms and broken showers. seokmin and jihoon lives on a shared square of space, sleep on the hard mattress in shifts. he wonders who you share a room with. he wonders how you are, when you’re not surrounded by color.

“i don’t know,” minghao murmurs, so delayed that jihoon doesn’t seem to catch on at first. jeonghan sits in his corner, his jaw tight. thinking about the risks he’s taking, no doubt; minghao has heard the pretty man has found himself a partner. unmatched. that’s dangerous. that’s asking for it.

minghao’s stomach knots. he grasps for a distraction, finds that each subject that sticks to his mind is a distraction that needs a distraction on it’s own. “where’s wonwoo?”

silence. things are happening, minghao knows. things that are bigger than a hidden house and splashes of color.

“the woman from the lower district,” seokmin replies with a voice that drips of suspicion. “she’s taking him to see the firestarter.”

‘the firestarter’, that’s jun; leader of the aberrants. there was a time when the factions were visibly divided, when they only met for fights and for shows of power. things are happening. minghao has seen the tall man from the high district whisper words of information into jihoon’s ears during fights, has seen the blows grow softer with the passing months.

minghao should care. this is the important stuff. all he can think of is color, and a shirt with the word ‘freedom’ on it.

____________________

one of the upsides of being born in a free country, is that minghao is much quicker to recognize things, feelings that his friends don’t know the name of. seokmin might always be suspicious, but he rarely knows what he’s suspicious of. it’s just a general, constant feeling. minghao knows why he’s suspicious. when he’s scared, he knows why he’s scared.

when he enters the house, two months after the first time he did so, and he feels his heart pound loudly in his chest at the sight of the back of your neck (there’s a smudge of yellow there, he wants to rub it away with his thumb), he knows what that means, too.

his breath catches when you turn around to greet him. there’s something about it, about the light flooding through the glassless windows and giving your skin a strange, inhuman sort of glow. about the wall in front of you, the one that used to have his town hall building on it, but that’s now covered in squiggles and shapes and abstract symbols. it’s not something he would’ve put on display, back when he was an artist, but it’s something he would’ve decorated his wall with; something he would’ve privately held closer to his heart than his other works.

a month ago, you might’ve said ‘oh, minghao.’, in that wondering, pleasantly surprised tone of voice that makes minghao’s neck prickle. ‘it’s not monday.’ you might’ve observed. now, his spontaneous visits are not so unexpected anymore. minghao likes to think that you come around more often, too, because you’re as eager to see him as he is to see you. now, he’s greeted by a soft smile, a softer voice, just a murmur of ‘hello’.

he sits beside you, watches as you let your fingers flit across the canvas – because that’s what it is; not a wall, not a decaying surface of wood, but a canvas – fingers decorated in color. blues and yellows to create a vibrant green. reds and blues to create rich, royal purple. he gives you a pair of gloves that he’d managed to trade his weekly proviants for. his stomach rumbles, protests against the lack of food, but it’s worth it for the look of adoration when he’d handed you the leather that resembles the pair in his own back pocket.

you tell him about your parents, about your first memories from before the enforcers came. about peace, about solitude. you know a few letters, you proclaim with pride. your parents had made sure of that, before they perished. it breaks his heart, how pleased you are as you press your index finger against the surface in front of you, scrawl an awkward, not quite right ‘a’ there. b, c, d, e. that’s the extent of your knowledge. that is it. that’s all you have to cling to. minghao’s mother would have screamed.

he tells you about his own childhood, about growing up in a free country. he tells you about his mother, about the women’s marches and the co-ed universities. you marvel, hang onto his every word. ‘i’d love to visit some time,’ you tell him. he knows he shouldn’t say anything, that false hope is as poisonous as anything in palatium, but when he opens his mouth, the words still fall out. ‘i’ll take you some time. we’ll go together.’

and maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s dangerous, but he still thinks that it’s worth it for the way your face lights up, mouth wide enough to cause a strain to your cheeks. that time, when minghao has to leave, you stand up with him, perched on your toes. you put your hands on his shoulder and you kiss his cheek. there’s something strange in the expression on your face, something minghao can’t quite decipher. but then that might just be due to the swimming, dizzying feeling in his stomach.

(love, love, love. such a strange thing, such a paradox. it makes minghao feel weak, vulnerable, exposed. it makes him feel strong, invincible. he didn’t think such a thing existed in such a dull, colorless place as palatium.

in the back of his mind, he thinks about jeonghan; who always seems to be walking on pins and needles, always worried, always waiting for bad news.

the spot your lips have touched on his face feels warm, even hours later when he’s racing kwon soonyoung and dino of the aberrants. he doesn’t even care that he loses.)

____________________

when he enters the house – your house? his house? yours? shared? minghao’s head spins – there’s a sort of tension lining the walls. a heaviness that not even the childish yellow suns and exaggerated flowers painted along the tired wallpaper of the house can quite manage to alleviate. you’re sitting in front of the wall you were staring at the first time minghao had seen you. there are different paintings there now; your first meeting feels like a lifetime ago. minghao can’t even remember what he used to paint before you.

minghao sits down next to you, feels an unbearable urge to reach for your hand where it lies fisted in your lap. asking someone if something’s wrong seems like a useless exercise. the answer is either going to be ‘yes’ or a lie, and there’s not much to do about it regardless. still, he asks, voice careful; barely above a whisper. you exhale. the look on your face is not so much coated in sadness as it is in resignation. and that might be worse.

“i have to tell you something,” you murmur, fingers reaching to fiddle with a folder lying right in front of you. the paper is beige, official looking. there’s only one reason to give a woman a folder. minghao’s heart drops. you lift your gaze, then, turn your head around to look at him. maybe you’re a good actress, maybe you have everyone fooled with your coy smiles and your soft voice. you don’t fool minghao.

“yeah,” you croak, facade almost completely falling as your lip twitches. you push the folder around on the dirty floor. you open it. as per the laws, you cannot read, and as such the folder consists only of images. there’s the blue palatium logo at the top, engoldened with the symbol that represents the soulmate method of marriages. underneath are pictures. minghao recognizes the face. “i’ve been matched.”

“choi seungcheol,” minghao says. the name has never sounded so bitter, the face of the high district racer never looked so much like an enemy. minghao never carried the same sort of disdain towards the nobles as his allies did; right now he swear he would rip seungcheol apart limb by limb had he had the chance. you must see the anger on his face, because you swiftly close the folder and hide it underneath your folded legs.

“he seems nice enough,” you hum, lift your arm gingerly to place your hand at his shoulder. your nails dig into his skin. somehow the pain grounds him. “i had a suspicion he was part of the nobles,” you continue, the twinkle in your eyes muted but still ablaze, still more alive than anything minghao has experienced in his five years living in palatium. “he didn’t seem like– like how i expected him to be.”

minghao puts his hand over yours. your fingers interlace. minghao can’t get himself to look at it, too afraid that the sight might completely unravel him. “you’ve already met with him?”

“a few times,” you reply vaguely, your voice tight.

minghao thinks back to his shirt back when he was a painter – a real one, one who sold pictures; not someone who just painted because it was all he could do to keep himself from going crazy – the one with the word ‘freedom’ on it. he feels as if caterpillars are crawling underneath his skin. the font, it wasn’t times new roman, he suddenly remembers. but surely it was something with serifs.

“a few times,” he repeats, only distantly aware of the sound of his own voice. he sounds hollow, like the sound of empty cans of paint clinking together in his backpack. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you sigh, untangle your fingers from his own. instead, you let them wander along the lines of his face, touch unhurried and fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. it strikes minghao that he won’t get the chance to get used to that sensation, that he’s barely caught up to the erratic beat your presence brings to his heart. there are a lot of times – or maybe just one unending, five year long instance – where minghao feels like things are not fair in palatium. this knowledge, this shattering sort of revelation still manages to throw him off, to make him choke.

“what good would it do, minghao?” you murmur, the question inherently rhetoric. the answer is easy, of course; it wouldn’t do any good. it would only have brought an earlier end to this thing that never even got to start. “i didn’t want you to know until you had to,” you add, and for a moment that makes minghao angry. angry that he has been kept in the dark, angry that you made a decision without him. he shakes this feeling before it festers; in truth you do not owe him anything. in truth you are entitled to the few choices you are allowed to make. he catches your hand as it makes its ascent towards his hair, brings it back down to his cheek.

for some reason he can only think of sans serif fonts; arial, calibri, helvetica. the palatium logo has a serif font; one minghao has never seen before. one that looks grotesque and horrible where minghao’s freedom shirt looked clean, sophisticated. for the life of him he can’t remember the name of the font.

“minghao, i–” you stutter, and for a moment your expression is completely open. there are many emotions he can’t remember the name of anymore, the sensations muddled and exchanged for a monotonous, but necessary indifference. fear. worry. helplessness. shadows of things that are too heartbreaking to name. your eyes look wet. your clear your throat. “take care of my house for me, will you?”

(if minghao kisses you then, hungrily and desperately and with a mouth far too open, if he swallows your breaths and curls his fingers around your ears, pulls you close and sobs into your mouth, unable to speak in any other language than a physical, silent sort of language, then that is between you, minghao and a house that belongs to no one, and to the both of you.

if promises slip between lips and get tangled with the kisses, if forbidden words are whispered between clinking teeth and echo-y cries, then that is a secret for the two of you to bear together.)

perpetua, minghao thinks as he steps towards his bike. the font on his shirt was called perpetua. he remembers because it reminds him of the word ‘perpetual’. ‘everlasting’. ‘never ending’.

he wonders if the heavy, crushing feeling in his chest is perpetual.

[thesweetnessofspring]

What do you think about Mother's role in characters' life of The Hunger Games series?

Do you think there is correlation of their situation with their action?

Thank you :)

@curiousthg

What I appreciate about Suzanne's writing is that she accounts for the political with the personal and we can see how this plays out with mothers.

The mother we know most about is Mrs. Everdeen. Her husband died due to a mine accident for a material that, given the fact D12 shifts to having medicine factories post-war, likely didn't need to mine coal. In TBOSAS, it's a material for Districts. And you have to question how safe they bother to make the mines. So first--the political system killed her husband. Then the class divide fostered by the Capitol has left her estranged from her old support system and the Seam have to survive on their own because of the inequality the Capitol maintains, and she's incapable of getting the medicine she needs to deal with her catatonic depression. This depression creates (understandable and justified) anger in Katniss, creating a wedge between them. And she continues to lose her rights as a mother when her children are placed into a war without her permission, even her child who is younger than 14, the age of a soldier in D13. Then D13 that was supposed to make the country better chews up and spits out her oldest, and a power-hungry leader kills her youngest.

Katniss says her mother focused her grief in her work. I think that the reason why Mrs. Everdeen did this is because she feels she failed as a mother and is searching for something she can succeed in, which for her is medicine. She lost Katniss's trust years before, and she didn't keep track of Prim well enough to prevent her from going into a warzone, leading to her death. Katniss says that she heard her mother's voice during that time after Prim's death, but she becomes mute and is in grief, and I think in response to seeing her daughter this way, Mrs. Everdeen felt she was a failure in Katniss's eyes. And after the assassination and Katniss's trial, she left for Four. I think she felt useless as a mother by that point and was very deep in her self-loathing, doubting that she could do anything for Katniss or contribute anything to help her.

A lot of people hate Mrs. Everdeen, but I never can. She's not an admirable character, but she's very tragic. She lost her home, Prim, and her equivalent of Peeta, and her eldest daughter has pushed her away for years and only began to regain some relationship when everything got taken again. Katniss was planning on going to the Capitol to die to end the pain of Peeta being lost to her forever and leaving Prim to deal with the consequences, yet she doesn't get hate for that. People are sympathetic. So I wonder...why can't Mrs. Everdeen, too? Why can't people see how the politics have affected her so deeply that she personally has made bad decisions, decisions she needs to ask Katniss forgiveness for, but does not make her an inherently terrible person, but simply makes her human?

As for other mothers, I'm never going to defend Mrs. Mellark, but I would love to see how she ended up where she did. All we know is that she was apparently her husband's second choice of wife. I wonder what her childhood was like and any relevant details for her. Just to see how she became the abuser that she did.

Coriolanus's mom is also wrapped up in the political, to the point where the war interfered with her birth and that lack of medical care resulted in her and her baby's death. And this tragedy affected Coriolanus, though we can't be sure if his mother's presence would have prevented what he became. It's said she was a little ditzy, but he remembers her as loving. Perhaps to deal with her death, Coriolanus had to harden himself to love and made him callous toward other people's pain.

There are other moms, but those seem the most prominent and this is already kinda long so I'll leave things at that!

[mabelstone]

Handsome Stranger

matt stone x reader

summary: where reader falls in love with the stranger in the apartment building across from her; part one.

word count: 1045

note: this is gonna be a softer fic but knowing me will probably spice up eventually. i've had this idea for soooo long but i'm not sure how everyone else will like it so please give me your feedback! <3

also surprise i'm australian so i made the character too... u can just ignore this and pretend she's from wherever you're from :)) so your version doesn't HAVE to be australian, she could have lived there briefly? its not that deep enjoy use your imagination

You'd only just moved to Brooklyn from Australia two months ago. The change was daunting and you were struggling to find your footing in such a new place. Though it'd always been a dream of yours to move to New York, you were still feeling out of place and the home sickness was starting to creep up. You'd heard it takes three months for the homesick feeling to flee, so your goal was to hold out just that little bit longer and try to enjoy the experience.

Coming from a small country town, the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple outside your window evoked a strange sense of comfort for you. You never truly felt alone, even though you were 10,000 miles (you'd had to learn the difference between kilometres and miles) from your friends and family. You'd often sit on your windowsill, as your apartment had no balcony, and watch all the pretty lights, and the cars, and hundreds and hundreds of people who occupied the streets. And more often than you'd like to admit, your eyes would wander to the handsome man in the apartment opposite yours. Your buildings were relatively close to one another, and it was safe to assume he also liked to enjoy the city life from afar. His eyes would often wander to your window as well.

Although you'd never shared a word, he'd become a huge comfort for you, almost a part of your nighttime routine. You'd get home from work around five, shower, play music or watch tv while you made some simple dinner, and then your favourite part; sit by your windowsill with a glass of red and admire your new life. Sometimes you'd read, sometimes you'd catch up on work emails. Most the time, you watched the handsome man in the other building smoke his nightly cigarette. Your buildings were quite high from the bright streets with just enough moonlight that you could just make out each others' faces.

Each night you'd watch the orange light illuminate his face, revealing the deep contours of his sharp bone structure. He'd lean his elbows on the windowsill, enjoying the autumn breeze as much as you, who sat with your back to the right side of the wall with your legs out in front of you, giving you the perfect view of the handsome stranger.

You wondered what kind of person he was. You believed you could tell a lot about a person from their apartment. From what you could see, he was relatively tidy and maybe a minimalistic, a single tall lamp responsible for the warm glow in his space. He wore button up tops and dress pants everyday, making you all the more curious about this man.

Each night after your shared glances and appreciation for the chaos below your buildings, he'd send a wave your way, and you'd always reciprocate, smiling ear to ear. You'd take that as your cue to close the blinds and get into bed.

You nearly missed it, but tonight he didn't wave. Instead, he gestured to himself, then you, then down to the ground. You cocked your head, raising your arms with a laugh he couldn't hear as a means to say "what?" He threw his head back dramatically, repeating his gestures slower and more exaggerated this time. "Oh, you wanna go down there?" You shouted across to him, hearing a faint, echoey, "what?" in return. You laughed again, shaking your head. You mirrored his own gesture back to him, earning yourself an eager nod and a thumbs up from the stranger. You chuckled to yourself as you watched him disappear back into his apartment, your heart racing as you comprehended what you just agreed to.

Only clad in silk pyjamas and slippers, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys and made your way to the elevator. You blood was buzzing through your veins like electricity at the thought of finally getting to hear his voice, to properly see his features in light.

Your heard thrummed in your ears as your elevator reached ground level, and suddenly you didn't want to meet the handsome stranger anymore. Your hands started sweating and you felt sick. You cursed your legs for dragging you out of your warm building and out onto the busy street, a little embarrassed that you were in your pyjamas. Just as you were about to back out, your eyes landed on him, and as if you were in a cliché movie scene, it all suddenly felt fine.

"Hey," he smiled breathlessly, towering over you, the sweetest tooth gap on display.

"Hello," you smiled equally as big, unable to control the blush that wildly painted your cheeks. "I'm Y/N."

"I'm Matt, pleasure to finally meet you." He stuck his hand out for you to shake, ripping a nervous giggle from you. You shook his hand back, still struggling to comprehend the situation.

"Likewise," you blushed even deeper, if possible. He was massive. So tall, broad shoulders. So incredibly masculine, yet the two words you would use to describe him would be handsome or... pretty.

"I'm kind of embarrassed to be out here in my pyjamas," you quietly spoke, moving in close so only he could hear. Your knees nearly gave out when he craned his neck down to hear you better. "I know we just met, but would you like to come up to my apartment?"

Although the words sounded suggestive, neither of you even thought of the invitation in a sexual way. It was like catching up with an old friend. In the elevator, you both pointed out the elephant(s) in the room. His height, your accent. He made fun of the way you said certain words, but you could tell he liked it by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the way his tongue got stuck between his teeth when he'd laugh particularly hard. He was funny. You really liked him. Although you'd just met him, his presence was warm and somewhat felt like home. You couldn't believe the pathetic words that plagued your brain like a teenagers diary. But after he left your apartment at 4am, your stupid heart continued to pang against your ribcage, and your stupid mouth couldn't stop smiling.

pls send asks with ideas, i'd love to have you guys involved xx and if this is boring PLEASE tell me thx

[bluestar22x]

Complicated

The Writing Contest - Chapter 7: Complicated

Summary: Nora meets Nick and Javi's complicated past is revealed

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Female!OC (Nora Delaine)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 3,660(ish)

Warnings: Angst, fowl language

Author’s Note: This is the most angst I can muster for this sweet fluffy fic

xxx

"This place is beautiful, Javi," you observed, taking in all your surroundings from the white fabric chair you were seated upon.

The restaurant you were both inside looked like it should be a museum showing off classical art rather than serving food with its white marble arches and the cupid carvings that lined them and the white walls.

Almost everything was white with a bare minimum of gold trim added to highlight the building's stunning design. Even in the massive but dimly lit main dining room it was a marvel to study.

"I thought you might appreciate it after our last date," Javi said with a proud smile on his face.

Your previous date, your second official one, had been at the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles and before you'd even gone inside you'd spilled your guts about how beautiful you thought the building looked from the street.

You were both impressed and touched Javi had remembered after all your blabbering about the animal exhibits and fossils.

"It's easy on the eyes and it's got an amazing atmosphere," you declared. Very romantic, you thought. "I just hope the food is half as good."

"I've been here a few times before," Javi told you. "I've heard the food is delicious. Made by one of the most renowned chefs in the country."

"I'll see for myself," you said, not convinced. "Janice's Diner is going to be hard to beat."

Javi chuckled and you smiled at the sound, but you were being serious. Janice's Diner was a little gem you'd found on your own during your first weekend as an official Angelino. It was just a block from your apartment and it reminded you of home. Quiet, unimpressive, aged, but cozy. And the diner happened to serve the best veggie burger you'd ever tasted.

It was also the location you'd chosen for your first date with Javi. He'd loved the burger too. Or so he'd claimed. You were certain he was being honest, but you were also certain this restaurant, with its fancy French name and ancient looking design was much more his style.

You didn't see it as a barrier to your relationship anymore. You saw it as a gateway to getting out of your comfort zone, and for him to get out of his. Janice's Diner was the first time you'd ever seen Javi in a Henley, and even though you'd picked it out for him as a gift, when you first saw him in it you almost combusted.

You'd been thankful you hadn't chosen plaid.

"Did you try the wine yet?" Javi questioned.

You shook your head. "Too busy admiring everything. Did you?"

"I did," he replied, taking another sip right after he spoke. "It's splendid. You must try it."

You grinned. "Javi giving a glowing review to the competition. Scandalous." You shielded your mouth with a hand like you were covering a jaw drop, your shock.

"I'd never lie about good wine," he told you. "Now, your turn."

He nodded at your glass and you tipped it against your lips for a small taste. You'd never be able to properly describe the wine like a connoisseur could, but it was good. Very good. Its smoothness rivaled Javi's wines.

"Wow. Where is this wine from?"

"France," Javi answered. "It's from one of the most prestigious vineyards in the world."

"I don't wanna hurt your feelings but..."

"It's better than any Valley View wine," he finished for you. "I am far from offended. We are not in the same league nor need to be. We are much more affordable."

You'd seen what Valley View's wines sold at. You weren't sure you wanted to know how much the bottle of wine sitting on the table between you cost.

You swallowed another small amount of the wine then turned your attention to the menu set before you and your jaw almost dropped for real.

Every meal on the menu was over five hundred dollars. "Holy crap it's expensive here!" You gasped, barely managing to keep your shocked voice low enough so your neighbors didn't hear.

"You are worth it," Javi declared, warmth blanketing his every word.

He was too sweet. Crazy, but sweet. You scanned the menu for the cheapest meal available that you knew you would enjoy. When the waiter came around you ordered crab and shrimp etouffee, one of the few dish names you recognized. The price was new though. You wondered humorously if flecks of gold were peppered on top.

"Javi?" a distant voice called out, trying for quiet but failing.

You both glanced up and down the rows of tables before you, eyes falling on a man in a gray pinstripe suit and a woman in a shimmering red dress with an updo that took years off her.

You recognized them as a couple from the tabloids, but you also knew the man from at least a dozen movies you'd watched with Sierra.

"Nick! Olivia!" Javi exclaimed, jumping to his feet and hugging his friend with a broad smile on his face. “What a surprise meeting you here!"

"It's more of a surprise seeing you here," Nick countered as they pulled apart. "Are you in town for a promotional event?"

Javi shook his head. "We are here for presumably the same reason you are."

"A date?" Olivia prodded, curiosity piqued.

"Si." Javi gestured at you with a hand. "This is Nora Delaine. Nora, Nick and Olivia Cage."

"Hi," you waved at them awkwardly. "Neither of you really needed to be introduced to me."

"You didn't need an introduction either," Nick promised you. "I remember you and your friend. Tell Sierra hello."

"She'll die," you warned him and he guffawed.

"But she survived our video chat?"

"Hardly."

He grinned. "Well, tell her anyway." He then turned to Javi. "We'll leave you two to enjoy your date, but you should swing by our home after, Jav. You too, Nora. It would be nice to catch up. Play a game. It's been a while."

Javi's hopeful eyes fell on you, a plea for you to agree to it, and you smiled. "I would love to, if you're up for it, Javi?"

"Always," he said enthusiastically. "What time should we arrive?"

"Nine?" Olivia suggested, eyes meeting Nick's. He bobbed his head in agreement.

"Sounds good to me," you said and Javi nodded.

Nick patted his friend's back as he and Olivia walked past your table. "Great. See you both then. Bring your bottle of wine. I've never tried that one."

"Sure." Javi beamed, giddy.

Adorable, you thought.

x

Your date with Javi went smoothly as usual, a product of having been friends long before you were something more. It was a relief to be dating someone you already felt comfortable and safe with because you knew him.

The only disappointment that resulted from the outing was your meal. It was excellent, tasty, the best shrimp you'd had, but it didn't have gold flakes mixed into it like you thought it should have at its price.

You left the restaurant in high spirits as you often were in Javi's presence, delighted by a pleasant night out with a handsome man whose kiss you could swear actually made your stomach flip.

It was nearly ten o'clock by the time you arrived at the Cage's residence with your nearly half empty bottle of wine. Their mansion was even bigger than Javi's, but you were greeted happily by the recently remarried couple.

Olivia broke out wine glasses for everyone and a couple bottles of one of the most expensive kinds of wine Javi's vineyard sold, and you all settled down in the entertainment room. It was fancy like the rest of the mansion, but didn't contain a lot of furniture besides the three couches and two chairs that almost circled the massive TV on one side of the room. The remaining space was filled in by an actual bar with four stools and a pool table.

You felt like you were in a club rather than a home.

"We should play Pictionary to pass the night," Olivia suggested.

You lit up at the idea. "Yes! Girls vs. guys."

Olivia grinned. "Sounds like a fair game. What do you say boys? We'll even let you go first."

"Sounds like we've already won the game," Nick boasted playfully with a smirk.

"Right," she scoffed. "We'll see about that."

You sat together on two couches as couples, but you were as far separated as you could be through that night's friendly competition.

Javi started the game off with a fake kick and a headbutt to the air, and everyone quickly got what his gestures meant.

"Soccer!" Nick shouted surely, finger pointing as he downed a good amount of the wine he’d poured out from the restaurant bottle.

"Football," Javi corrected, "But si."

You, Nick, and Olivia all groaned at his insistence.

"I bet the card says soccer," Nick mumbled and you laughed.

"Alright, my turn!" Olivia declared happily, placing her glass on the coffee table before her.

She picked a card and studied it for a few seconds before standing in front of the TV, looking at you confidently as Nick flipped the timer.

She leaned her head back and started running her fingers through her hair that had been pulled loose and you immediately knew what she was portraying. "Showering!"

She nodded and gave you a high five on the way back to her seat. "We're going to fuckin' smoke them!"

"No contest," you added, grinning ear to ear. You probably hadn't even known Olivia for an hour yet, but you already liked her.

"Big talk," Nick said, "But I'm up next."

He took the center stage of everyone's attention and started silently acting out popping something round into his mouth.

"Pills!" Javi exclaimed. Nick shook his head.

"Grapes!"

"Yes!" Nick nodded.

Then it was your turn. Javi took control of the timer and you got to work.

Your card having been mime, you started doing the classic "invisible box" performance with a bewildered look on your face.

Olivia giggled a little. "Mime. Definitely a mime."

"We need more difficult cards!" Javi declared, digging out another stack from the game box.

You were several rounds in before the cards actually started getting hard to act out, and it wasn't because you were all a little buzzed.

Then you finally hit one Javi couldn't figure out before the timer ended, despite Nick shooting everyone in the room with an imaginary gun and flashing his invisible badge at your bodies after.

"Argh, you just about named every other law enforcement agency in the book!" Nick exclaimed in frustration. "You'd think after being surveillanced by the CIA it would be the first to spring to mind!"

You blinked as his words set in, confused. "Why would the CIA have been interested in Javi?"

Everyone stared at you. Javi's expression turned into one of panic.

Nick whipped his head around to look at his friend. "You didn't tell her?" He shook his head in grim disapproval.

"There was never a right time!" Javi blurted, eyes darting around the room before falling on you. "I'm sorry I never told you."

"Told me what?" you asked wide-eyed, a panic of your own settling in.

"Everything in the movie was exaggerated," he replied quickly, "But it all happened. Hiring Nick for my party. My cousin. Nick's daughter getting kidnapped. All of it."

He'd conveniently left one major detail out of it.

"You were part of a cartel?" you gasped. Your sweet Javi was actually a criminal?

"The face of it," he amended in a rush. "I never wanted to be a part of it. My cousin forced me to. I had no choice!"

"There's always a choice, Javi!" you spat, anger flaring at his deflection.

He clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard, eyes pleading with you, begging you to hear him out.

"I need a moment," you decided instead, feeling a need for it in your bones, the air in the room suddenly too stuffy.

You rushed out of the mansion onto its giant back porch that overlooked a pool with an attached hot tub and an artificial waterfall, so close to sobbing that it got caught in your throat.

You were consumed by the emotions coursing through you. Anger. Hurt. Fear. And lost in the lingering memories of your first flight to California, when you'd watched The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent for the first and only time.

It'd been such a silly little movie. You hadn't considered that the parody of Javi and Nick's first meeting could have had any basis in reality. People weren't part of cartels. That didn't exist in your sheltered little world.

The one that had just been shattered with one sentence.

Nick had always had a flair with the one liners.

You were surprised but grateful that Javi didn't follow you out immediately, Nick and Olivia having probably warned him not to, to give you the time you needed to process and cool off.

When he finally did walk out onto the porch to join you, you leaned on the railing in front of you and waited, unsure of what you wanted to say to him. What you wanted to ask.

"I'm so sorry, Nora," he said lowly, ashamed. "I should've told you sooner. You deserved to know what kind of man you were getting into a relationship with."

You straightened up in your spot and craned your neck to watch his face. "And what kind of a man is that, Jav?"

"A coward," he answered, eyes unable to meet yours, self loathing evident in his voice. You'd never heard it before. Never realized there were emotions he'd bottled up around you. Ones you'd felt too many times before.

"For a long time I couldn't escape that life cause I was scared," he continued. "I knew if I left my cousin would find some way to drag me back in. Threaten the life I'd made for myself. Maybe even kill everyone I loved. He would've done it smiling." His expression turned darker than you'd ever seen it before. "I should've killed him myself. If I had, Nick wouldn't have had to do it. His daughter wouldn't have been kidnapped."

"Javi," you hesitated, not sure you wanted the truth to what you were about to ask. "Did you ever kill anyone?"

"No one that didn't deserve it," he replied.

You nodded. You could accept that. Your brother had killed too. It may have been for his country, but he'd still had blood on his hands, as noble as it was supposed to be.

It was because of your brother that you also had an idea of what taking a life cost. No matter how evil the enemy had been, your brother's conscious had never let him forget each time one of his bullets had dropped someone.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," you murmured.

He stared at you, surprised. "I thought you were furious at me."

You huffed. "I was and kinda still am. But not because of your past life. I assume if you really deserved to be in jail the CIA wouldn't have let you off easy, let alone hop the Atlantic to settle down in the US." You sucked in a breath. "It's the fact you kept it from me that bothers me. Because I DID deserve to know the truth. I've never kept anything from my past from you. Not on purpose. But I can recall times where I mentioned The Unbearable Weight or your family and you got all vague or changed the subject."

"I'm sorry," Javi gasped out, tears in his eyes. "It was selfish. I didn't want to lose you."

Your heart went out to him without your permission. Even after this huge, earth upturning reveal, you couldn't help but feel bad for being upset with him. He was a grown man, and you had good reason to be, but those soft brown eyes made your barriers weak.

"Make it up to me," you ordered him. "Tell me everything."

Once he started he couldn't stop. He told you about his father, how he was the head of their family's cartel, how he'd wanted him to take over when he died, but he'd refused. He hadn't been interested in that life at all, preferring his books and movies and the finer things in life to guns, and he told you about how enraged his father got when he tried to avoid him every time he wanted to teach Javi about their family business. The real one. Not the olive farm cover up that would have never allowed them to maintain their rich lifestyle. He'd blamed Javi's late mother, who had died in a car accident when he was twelve, for his son being too soft. For shielding him from that side of their lives for too long.

Javi had made amends with his father when he was hospitalized and dying from lung cancer, but with his death Javi traded one bully for an even greater one. His cousin Lucas.

With his lack of interest in his family's illegal sales of guns, his father had willed the business to Lucas, who had always been anxious to dig his claws into it. Most of the money had gone to Lucas too. The only thing Javi's father had left for him was the mansion and its surrounding property. Given, Javi could've sold it and moved away, like he had done after the events that ended with Lucas' death, but at the time he'd been young and unsure of what he wanted out of life. He only knew if he wanted to stay home, he'd need to bargain with Lucas. He couldn't continue to live his life as it was without some of the money his father had given to his cousin. And Lucas knew that. He gave Javi an ultimatum - become the face for their family's cartel or get out. Not knowing a better alternative at the time, Javi had accepted.

"It was easy to forget most of the time," he admitted. "I usually spent my days by the pool or on my boat or writing, hardly a care in the world. Until Lucas showed up needing me to meet someone for him for one of his shady deals and then the fantasy would be broken."

"He only let you stay to use you," you surmised. "With you pretending to be the head it kept the heat off of him. You were his shield. His decoy for both other cartels and all the federal agencies that might take interest in the cartel."

Javi nodded and sighed. "Saddest part is he pretended he was also doing it for my own good; that without his protection I'd be an even bigger target - and at the beginning I actually believed him. Wanted to. We were close growing up, almost like brothers, but after my father died, not long after my thirty-sixth birthday, that all changed. Lucas became completely blind to his power hunger."

"Who's running the business now that Lucas is dead?" you inquired nervously.

"One of Lucas' security team members," Javi answered. "We were the last of our family so they basically battled it out while I escaped, with the help of the CIA. In exchange for intel they gave me a passport to anywhere I wanted to go. I remembered visiting wine valley one autumn with my parents when I was eight or nine. It was a fond memory, even though I couldn't drink any of their products. Though if I remember correctly my father might have allowed me a taste from his glass once or twice."

"So no one's gonna come after you?" you quizzed. You were both worried for him and yourself. You may have been sheltered but you knew enough about cartels to know most people didn't leave one alive.

"No," Javi said. "I'm sure of it. The new boss isn't worrying about me. I'd be dead by now if that was the case."

"Well, that's reassuring," you muttered and he chuckled.

"Is there anything else you want to know?"

You frowned as you pondered it, then remembered the part in the movie where he and Nick took LSD for writing inspiration.

"Do you still take drugs?"

Javi's expression dropped again. You had a feeling he was recalling that your brother had succumbed to addiction. That you frowned on recreational drugs for that reason, no matter if they were hard to overdose on or not.

"Just weed," he assured you. "I stopped taking LSD when I arrived in the states. I didn't want to screw up the life I was building here. Didn't want to be caught with illicit drugs. So I only took legal ones."

"Good," you said, nodding.

"I can stop that too if it would make you feel better," he offered. "I don't want to lose you over a recreation."

You thought about agreeing to it, but something in you wanted to see middle ground. "I don't want to be that uptight girlfriend, especially when something is legal." For a few beats you mulled over what you could live with. "Edibles. You can still take edibles. I won't get upset. Just...use it responsibly."

A flash of surprise crossed his face, but Javi nodded. "Deal."

With your conversation over, the consequences of your the late night out and the wild emotions you'd just come down from sunk in. You were exhausted.

"Can we go back to my apartment now?"

"Certainly," he agreed. "Just let me tell Nick and Olivia we're going."

"I'll be in the car," you told him, grateful that he hadn't suggested you go in to say goodbye too, and that he was driving you home. You were barely able to keep your eyes open after you slid into the passenger seat and as he drove you back.

You were outside your apartment door in the empty hallway when another question sprung up in your head.

"Do you still have a room dedicated to props from Nick's movies?"

Javi frowned, hesitant to tell you, even after how much turmoil his lying had caused that night, but he eventually did the right thing and nodded solemnly. "I do."

"Show me next time I'm in the valley?" you inquired with no judgement in your tone. You'd taken a part in more than one fandom in your lifetime.

He couldn't help but beam at you, delighted that you were taking interest in his secret room, reassured that you didn't think it was crazy by the serious expression on your face.

"Of course."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[catladywriter]

Inotan Fanfic: Pretty Privilege

Synopsis: Tanjirou, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke have been running the Wisteria Garden, a cozy and popular eatery, for two years. Their peaceful routine is disrupted when a rude customer tries to harass Inosuke for his good looks, then proceeds to insult him when asked to leave. Tanjirou’s protective instincts flare up. (Cue Tanjirou publicly giving his boyfriend such sweet compliments that Inosuke can’t help but blush)

Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou)

Secondary Pairing: ZenNezu (Zenitsu x Nezuko)

Setting: Canon AU, 3 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: 4400+ words

Status: Complete One-shot. 6th story in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom.

This story can be enjoyed on its own. But if you read the previous installments in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom, you may appreciate certain references and throwbacks as well as the character development throughout the series. If you have the time, I suggest reading the earlier stories in consecutive order before diving into this one.

To recap, our main characters and their birds live together in the Kamado family household, and they run an eatery in the neighboring town called the Wisteria Garden. In this installment, Inosuke and Tanjirou are 19 years old, Zenitsu is 20, and Nezuko is 18. They have a resident cat at the eatery named Kuro-chan.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It had been two years since Inosuke had taken up his customer-facing role at the Wisteria Garden, a cozy eatery that Tanjirou and Nezuko had inherited from their kind-hearted neighbour. Nestled in the heart of a charming town near their mountain home, the eatery was a haven for food lovers, who flocked to taste the simple but scrumptious dishes that the Kamado siblings whipped up with fresh ingredients from the local farms.

But the food was not the only attraction. Ever since Inosuke ditched his fearsome boar mask, he had also become a feast for the eyes. He attracted many admirers, especially young ladies, with his stunning face and muscular physique. Zenitsu teased him relentlessly, calling him the “walking signboard” because of his striking looks.

Inosuke was annoyed and uneasy by the constant attention, the bold stares from customers, and the palpable adoration that dripped from the young women who made the place their regular hangout. He felt like they were invading his privacy and mocking his pride. He would scowl back at them with his usual intensity, hoping to frighten them away. But to his vexation, his frowns only seemed to make them more thrilled. They would titter and flush, then glance away shyly, only to sneak another peek at him later.

Inosuke eventually learned to ignore them, or at least bear with them. He realised that they didn’t mean any harm, and that they were just showing their appreciation in their own way. He also knew that Tanjirou would be disappointed if Inosuke caused any trouble with the customers. Tanjirou was not only his loyal underling, but also his boyfriend, and Inosuke cared about him more than anything, even if he didn’t always show it.

But then, a new customer appeared, one who challenged Inosuke like no other. She wore a kimono that blended Western and Eastern styles, with delicate lace and fur accents that made her stand out from the crowd. She accessorised her outfit with lace gloves, a beaded purse, and a felt hat that sat on her short, stylish haircut. Instead of geta, she wore shoes with slender, towering heels that looked like needles. They seemed absurdly impractical for walking, but she strutted with confidence. To shield herself from the sun’s rays, she carried a parasol, which she propped against the table. During a brief chat with Zenitsu, she revealed that she had just returned from studying abroad in a distant country with a name too complex for him to remember. She also mentioned that her father owned the coffee shop two streets away.

This strange customer never blinked under Inosuke’s fierce gaze; instead, she matched it with her own. She always found a reason to call Inosuke over, whether it was to refill her water, bring more condiments, ask about the menu, or just make small talk. It made Inosuke feel like he was being bossed around, which rubbed him the wrong way. She seemed to occupy the eatery around the clock, showing up for both lunch and dinner. Inosuke had faced some of the most terrifying demons in the land during his demon-slaying days and never backed down, but this woman unnerved him.

Inosuke despised her attitude. He felt like she was taunting him, or trying to manipulate him somehow. He wanted to snap at her, or better yet, punch her in the face. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to let down Tanjirou, who always reminded him to be polite and courteous towards the customers. So Inosuke decided to seek some advice from Zenitsu instead.

“Ugh, that woman is still staring at me,” Inosuke complained, his voice laced with annoyance. “She’s been doing it for a week now. Her eyes make my skin crawl, like she wants to eat me or something.”

Zenitsu rolled his eyes. He was well aware of Inosuke’s popularity among the customers, thanks to his handsome appearance. It was nothing new; it had been happening ever since Inosuke retired his boar mask two years ago. Zenitsu had lost count of how many times he had to soothe him, saying, “They’re staring because they find you attractive. It’s a compliment. Just ignore it or something.”

Besides, the woman in question was quite a beauty herself, even if she seemed arrogant. The way she dressed and acted reminded him of the wealthy and fashionable ladies from the city. Shouldn’t Inosuke be flattered by such attention? Zenitsu couldn’t help but wonder if Inosuke was secretly fishing for compliments.

Zenitsu’s mind drifted back to when they first started working at the Wisteria Garden. At first, Inosuke had tried to be polite to the customers, albeit with evident discomfort. But it didn’t last long before his impatience and rudeness resurfaced.

Zenitsu vividly remembered the day Inosuke slammed a menu onto a table occupied by a group of giggling girls who were ogling him. The loud bang had startled Zenitsu, and he rushed over to apologise to the customers, fearing they would be angry. To his surprise, the girls laughed even harder, exclaiming, “He’s even cuter when he’s mad!”

Such incidents became more frequent, with Inosuke growing more insolent in his behaviour. He snapped at customers who took too long to order and scolded those who wasted any food. To Zenitsu’s confusion, the customers asked for Inosuke’s name, not to report his poor service, but to request him again when they came back. It seemed that having a pretty face gave Inosuke a license to be nasty, while the girls kept swooning over him. Meanwhile, Zenitsu had done his best to be friendly and sociable with customers, only to get lukewarm reactions in comparison.

“Some people are just shallow,” Zenitsu muttered under his breath. “Thank goodness Nezuko-chan is different from them.”

“Hey!” Inosuke waved his hand in front of Zenitsu, snapping him out of his daydream. Zenitsu realised that he had zoned out while Inosuke was ranting.

"Well, I'm sure you can handle it," Zenitsu said flatly.

“What?!” Inosuke roared, stunned by Zenitsu’s indifferent response.

"Zenitsu," Nezuko chided, having overheard their conversation. Her tone was gentle but reproachful. "Inosuke needs your help. How can you be so dismissive?"

"I don't need any help!" Inosuke protested. “I just remember Tanjirou telling me to talk to Zenitsu if customers get out of hand.”

“I think you’re the one who’s out of hand,” Zenitsu retorted.

Inosuke was momentarily speechless, struggling to convey his discomfort in the face of Zenitsu’s apathy. Nezuko intervened once more.

"Zenitsu, you're being unfair. That woman is really creepy, and she practically lives here. If someone was stalking me like that, I'd be freaked out too."

Zenitsu's protective instincts flared, and he declared, eyes popping and veiny, "Don't worry, Nezuko-chan. If someone stalks you, I'll gouge out their eyes."

Nezuko smiled. "That's a bit over the top, but all I'm saying is, you should consider Inosuke's feelings."

Zenitsu turned sour again. "You're my girlfriend, so it's different. Inosuke is a man, and he's our boss, as he always reminds us. He can take care of himself."

Inosuke felt his anger rising. Zenitsu was being more of a hindrance than a help. He should have never asked him in the first place.

"Of course, I can take care of myself," he snarled, rolling up his haori sleeves menacingly.

"Umm, Inosuke? What are you going to do?" Nezuko asked nervously, as she watched Inosuke storm toward the woman who still stared at him.

"I'm going to punch her eyes out."

*

Tanjirou had been swamped in the kitchen, churning out the endless list of orders, but he abandoned his usual post when Nezuko came to alert him of the latest situation. He had a mission to accomplish, to confront the brazen woman who had been plaguing Inosuke’s life.

As he stepped into the dining area, he saw Zenitsu wrestling to hold back Inosuke, who was clearly on the edge of committing an act of violence. With a calm and reassuring nod, Tanjirou caught Inosuke’s eye. He flashed a thumbs-up and mouthed, “Leave it to me.”

The signal seemed to work like magic, instantly calming Inosuke’s frayed nerves. The wild, raging fury in his face gave way to a sense of relief and trust, and Zenitsu loosened his grip with a sigh of gratitude.

He approached the customer’s table, putting on a polite smile, and asked, “How’s the food today, miss? Is everything to your liking?”

Her response was less than satisfactory. With a subtle roll of her eyes, she acknowledged the question but made it clear that her primary interest was elsewhere. She wasn’t here for the food; her focus was still fixed on Inosuke, the unwilling target of her relentless gaze.

Tanjirou, leaning slightly forward, decided to get straight to the point. “I noticed you’ve been staring at our friend Inosuke quite persistently,” he said, his tone courteous but firm. “It’s making him very uncomfortable, and frankly, it’s a form of harassment.”

With an arrogant tilt of her head, she crossed her arms, adopting a stance of defiance. “Well, it’s my right to look at whatever catches my eye,” she snapped, her words carried an air of entitlement.

Tanjirou decided to appeal to her sense of empathy. “How would you feel if someone stared at you in the same way?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Without a second’s hesitation, she replied with a wicked smirk, “Oh, if it were someone as handsome as Inosuke, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Tanjirou blinked, momentarily stunned by her brazen response. But he quickly regained his composure, realising that this woman was far too bold and thick-skinned for subtleties. Clearing his throat, he decided to assert his authority.

“We really aim to make Wisteria Garden a comfortable and welcoming place for everyone, whether you’re part of our little family here or a guest. I’d appreciate it if you could help us maintain that friendly atmosphere. But if you can’t, I might have to politely ask you to leave.”

The woman’s expression changed, and for a moment, Tanjirou thought he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. But then she straightened her back and lifted her chin, a defiant spark returning to her gaze. The showdown was far from over.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out,” she spat, her voice seething with contempt. “And for what? This ignorant boar who can barely string a sentence together? He’s just a waiter, and one with a horrible attitude. He’s only getting by because of his pretty face. He should be thankful that someone like me even bothers to look at him. In fact, who cares about being part of your family here? I’m the one paying you, after all. How dare you put me on the same level as you peasants.” 

Tanjirou felt his normally warm and patient demeanor shift into a boiling anger. He squared his shoulders and locked onto her gaze with unyielding intensity.

“You know,” he began, his voice steady but edged with the unmistakable weight of his fury, “his attitude might seem horrible to you, but maybe it’s because your own attitude is disrespectful. We all work incredibly hard to ensure our customers enjoy their meals here.”

As Tanjirou spoke, the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant changed subtly. The lively chatter that had filled the air before died down to a faint murmur, casting a heavy silence over the room. Customers, who had been engrossed in their meals and conversations, turned their attention to the unfolding confrontation. The room seemed to hold its breath as Tanjirou’s words took effect, and the surprise in the customer’s eyes was obvious. Clearly, no one had ever spoken to her like this before.

He took a step closer, his voice firm and full of conviction. "We pour our hearts into what we do. Our days are long, our feet barely touch the ground, and we’re often the last ones to sit down and have a meal. Every single person who works in the food trade, regardless of their role, works hard to ensure that you, our customers, never go hungry at any time of the day. But being a customer doesn’t make you right or superior to everyone else. If having more education than others makes you think that you’re better than anyone else, I’m afraid that education is wasted on you.”

Tanjirou paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing. "And let me make it clear, Inosuke is more than just a waiter. It’s a respectable role, no matter what you may think. But to set the record straight, he’s also the boss here, and that specialty tempura hotpot you’ve been enjoying for days? It’s his idea. He’s intelligent, diligent, and driven, constantly challenging himself to improve. He’s not the ‘good for nothing’ you make him out to be, relying only on his looks. In fact, Inosuke is an extraordinary person, far more than you can imagine. He’s brave, loyal, and big-hearted. He’s always there for me and our friends. We couldn’t do without him here at the Wisteria Garden. Or in every way, really."

Tanjirou’s words had struck a chord, and for the first time, doubt clouded her unwavering confidence. The once-arrogant expression now faltered, and a flicker of uncertainty danced in her eyes. But beneath it all, fury still smoldered, manifesting in the fiery flush of her cheeks and the tremble of her lips.

Despite her angry expression, Tanjirou’s keen sense of smell told him that the woman felt more shame than rage. The telltale scent of embarrassment wafted from her, mingling with the remnants of her anger, creating a complex olfactory tapestry. He understood that his words had not only challenged her arrogance but had also touched a nerve, making her confront her own behaviour.

With a touch of satisfaction, Tanjirou continued, his voice stern but not unkind, “That’s all I have to say. I hope you take a moment to reflect on it. Now, I’d kindly ask you to apologise to Inosuke.”

The customer’s face underwent a rapid transformation, shifting from initial embarrassment to evident surprise, before ultimately settling into an expression of sheer indignation. Her nostrils flared, and her lips twisted into a deep scowl, as if the very idea of uttering an apology was an affront to her pride.

With a heavy sigh, Tanjirou said, “If that’s too much to ask, please consider leaving and never coming back.” He gestured toward the exit, feeling a pang of disappointment in his chest.

The woman didn’t waste a second. She snatched her purse and parasol and stormed towards the door, her needle-like heels clicking loudly against the wood floor.

Senjurou, who had been quietly watching the spectacle over his meal, couldn’t contain himself any longer. He stood up and clapped vigorously, his applause soon joined by other patrons in the eatery.

Tanjirou, slightly embarrassed by the unexpected applause, managed a sheepish smile. “Sorry for the interruption,” he said, bowing slightly to the customers, before heading back to the kitchen.

As he walked away, he noticed his companions watching him. Zenitsu had a look of genuine awe on his face, while Nezuko’s eyes sparkled with admiration. Even Inosuke, known for his pride and bravado, seemed slightly abashed by the high praise Tanjirou had given him, his cheeks tinged with a faint rosy hue, a rare moment of vulnerability that only Tanjirou’s words could elicit.

*

Back in the kitchen, Tanjirou's heart still raced with the lingering effects of the confrontation. He leaned against the counter, pondering the exchange he'd just had with the insolent customer. His parents had always taught him to be kind and respectful, especially towards women. The fact that he had to address her so firmly troubled him. He also couldn't shake off the disappointment of not being able to make her understand her mistake and apologise to Inosuke. Despite his upbringing, Tanjirou knew the world wasn't pure and kind; he had seen people turn into literal demons, and witnessed them trample on those they deemed weaker. In a timeline when demons no longer roamed, Zenitsu's occasional rants about the condescending and deceitful people he encountered during his childhood in the city reminded him that not everyone was kind. However, he had grown so comfortable with the kindness and warmth of their humble little town that this encounter had genuinely caught him off guard.

As he stood there lost in thought, Kuro-chan, their resident black cat, emerged from under a nearby chair. The commotion outside had clearly sent the feline seeking refuge. It nuzzled against Tanjirou's leg, seeking comfort. Automatically, he scratched the cat's little head, feeling some of the tension within him dissipate.

Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Inosuke soon filed into the kitchen, interrupting Tanjirou from his reverie.

"Don't be mad," Zenitsu said, flashing a sheepish grin. His sharp hearing had obviously picked up on Tanjirou's elevated heartbeats. "I think you did really well. Even I would have yelled at her."

Nezuko nodded enthusiastically. "That was an amazing speech. You made me realise and feel proud of the hard work we put in for our customers. And it was so romantic the way you defended Inosuke and called him extraordinary. Awww."

Zenitsu couldn't resist teasing. "My goosebumps were all over the floor, you know." He made a face and rubbed his arms as though trying to shake off an imaginary chill.

Tanjirou sighed, his disappointment lingering. "I just wished she understood where she went wrong and apologised to Inosuke."

Zenitsu, ever the realist, crossed his arms. "Well, Inosuke needs to know that he can't always get his way.” With a sly grin, he turned to Inosuke and added, "That woman rattled you because, for once, you met your match. She's obnoxious, cocky, rude and unapologetic. Perhaps you'll take this as an opportunity to reflect on yourself and learn to be more appreciative and kind to our other customers, eh?"

Inosuke, however, held his head high, a contemptuous gleam in his brilliant emerald eyes as he declared haughtily, "Not a chance! It's their good fortune to be in the presence of me, extraordinary Hashibira Inosuke, King of Mountains, and your boss."

"Why, you!” Zenitsu shot an exasperated glance at Tanjirou. “Look at what you've done! All that praise inflated his thick boar head!"

"I don't care what you or that woman says," Inosuke declared, his chest puffed up with pride. "Tanjirou said I'm extraordinary, and he's completely right!"

"Your rudeness is extraordinary!" Zenitsu snapped back.

Tanjirou watched their playful banter, feeling his spirits lift. Inosuke's pride was as untamable as the wild boars he'd grown up with, but that was what made him unique. Tanjirou always felt that Inosuke was a genius in his own right. He had thrived in the wilderness, learned to converse despite never attending any formal school, and even invented his own breathing technique and mastered it. If circumstances had been different, he might have been a revered Hashira from a young age, much like Muichirou. 

"But then, he wouldn't be my Inosuke, the Inosuke I know and love," Tanjirou shook his head, smiling to himself.

*

A few mornings later, as they bustled around, getting the eatery ready for the lunch shift, Zenitsu burst into the kitchen with an urgent tone. "Hey, guess what? That rude woman from the other day is back!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Inosuke, who had been engrossed in sharpening knives, immediately tensed up at the mention of the troublesome visitor. Tanjirou offered a reassuring pat on Inosuke's shoulder.

"It's alright, Inosuke. I'll handle it," he assured his boyfriend before confidently striding out of the kitchen towards the woman. She stood somewhat awkwardly at the entrance, an anxious expression on her face, fidgeting with the straps of her bag as she waited.

Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Nezuko hurriedly followed behind, with Zenitsu hissing at Inosuke to put the knives away.

Sensing that she had none of that haughty demeanour and anger from previously, Tanjirou spoke gently, "Good morning, miss. What brings you here today?"

She looked up, a sense of remorse in her eyes. "I'm not here to make trouble," she began, her voice sincere. "I came to apologise to Inosuke-san and all of you." She held up a large paper bag with both hands. 

“Coffee beans!” Zenitsu remarked as he glanced inside the bag.

“Yes, they’re coffee beans.” She nodded humbly. “It’s a small gift as a token of my apology."

Inosuke glared at the peace offering. "How do we know you haven't laced it with anything weird?" he grumbled, clearly still wary of her intentions.

The woman's expression remained earnest. "I'm truly sincere about this. My father personally brewed these beans. He owns the coffee shop just a couple of streets away from here." Her gaze briefly shifted in the direction of her father's coffee shop. "I would never do anything to tarnish his good name."

“He's worked tirelessly to raise me and send me abroad. But he never allowed me to work alongside him, because he knew how grueling it was,” she continued. “Until that day we had our uhh… talk, I never had any interest in the workings of his shop. But after that, I went to watch him at work. He spent the entire day on his feet, working side by side with his employees, even though he's the boss. He stayed late every night, and wouldn't leave until the last employee did." She looked slightly pained, and her voice carried a mix of astonishment and remorse. "I realised how wrong I was. I'm deeply sorry for my words, and I genuinely appreciate you enlightening me. I promise to treat all workers with respect from now on. And I hope my behaviour doesn’t affect your impression of my father." She bowed her head in contrition.

Tanjirou accepted the bag with a kind smile. "Your father must be gentle person," he said.

"Eh?" the woman looked at him in surprise.

"Because you have a fine upbringing, and you're inherently kind and brave," Tanjirou continued. "You’ve shown a lot of courage and humility by coming here today and apologising."

He smiled at her, a warm and dazzling smile this time, sending her cheeks into a radiant flush. 

"Um, I think you're a gentle person too!" she blurted out suddenly. "Will you go out with me?"

Tanjirou furrowed his brows, taken aback by the unexpected confession. "What? Miss, I thought you agreed with what we discussed that day..."

She interrupted him, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh, but I'm not going to harass you! I’ll leave now, but I'll come and find you when you close for the day!"

Before Tanjirou could formulate a rejection, a commotion erupted behind him. He turned to see Zenitsu and Nezuko desperately trying to restrain Inosuke, who was brandishing his knives like they were swords.

"Calm down, Inosuke! Murder is a crime!" Zenitsu cried out.

"Please let Nii-chan handle this!" Nezuko pleaded.

Inosuke barked, "He's mine! Scram or I'll cut your eyes out!"

The woman, quickly piecing together the situation, apologised profusely and bolted out of the door.

“All right, all right, I’m sure she got the message,” Tanjirou said, attempting to pacify Inosuke as he bellowed from the doorway, his voice echoing long after the woman's kimono vanished from view.  A few curious neighbours from the nearby shops peeked their heads out, wondering what the commotion was about. Tanjirou and Nezuko gently guided him back inside to sit down.

"Phew, let's hope we don't have any more customers like her," Nezuko sighed, shaking her head.

"It's a shame though, she did seem genuinely remorseful," Tanjirou pondered, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

“Well, don’t go casually flirting with customers then, dummy,” Zenitsu snarked. 

"I wasn't flirting with her!" Tanjirou protested, his expression a blend of incredulity and innocence. "She looked genuinely sorry and downcast. I just wanted to cheer her up!"

Zenitsu let out a theatrical sigh. "I put in so much effort to cheer up the ladies, but why does none of them want to harass me or ask me out? Oh, Nezuko-chan, don’t get me wrong, it was just a slip of the tongue!” he cried out. But Nezuko had already turned away, shooting him a withering look before heading to the kitchen.

“Zenitsu, you really need to stop saying things like that. You know Nezuko cares for you deeply.” Tanjirou admonished.

“I know that, I know that!” Zenitsu sobbed. “It was just a momentary lapse! How can you scold me when this is all your fault and Inosuke’s fault anyway!”

"I should put on my boar head again. Everyone in this town already knows me anyway," Inosuke declared, his voice laced with impulsiveness.

"No, please don’t! I love seeing your face. It gives me strength on a tough day at work," Tanjirou said earnestly.

Inosuke's face lit up with pride and satisfaction. “Fine. I won’t wear it, then, if it helps my best underling do well at work.”

"I think you should wear it. Your face irritates me," Zenitsu deadpanned.

“I don’t care what you think, Monitsu,” Inosuke retorted, sticking his tongue out in defiance. “And another thing…” With a swift and unexpected move, he leaned in, capturing Tanjirou's lips in a passionate kiss. He felt Tanjirou’s surprise turn into delight as he kissed him back eagerly. When he pulled back, he flashed a smug grin.  “See? I can’t do that with the head on. And that wouldn’t be fair for an extraordinary boyfriend like me.”

Tanjirou, used to Inosuke’s spontaneous nature, just smiled and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer. He looked into his eyes and said softly, “You’re right. You’re an extraordinary boyfriend, and I love you just the way you are.” He leaned in and gave him another kiss, this time more tender and sweet.

“You’re both revolting!” Zenitsu shrieked, rubbing his arms as if they were covered in slime. “Nezuko-chaaan! I’m sorry! Please forgive me, don’t leave me alone with them!” He sprinted into the kitchen, leaving the two lovers to their own devices.

The audacious customer never showed up at their eatery again. But a pleasant surprise followed. They started getting regular bento lunch orders from the nearby coffee shop. The young lady boss had introduced a new benefit for her staff, offering them free meals, not only at the Wisteria Garden, but also at other local eateries.

And so, life went on at the Wisteria Garden, where tasty food and warm smiles were always on the menu, where respect and friendship were cherished above all else, and where love kept on growing.

Next story in the series: Sleeping Together

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author's Notes: This fic is a little different from what I usually write. It was inspired by a bunch of things. First, there was the great resignation that happened during the Covid period, when many F&B workers quit their jobs to seek better pay and conditions. I remember coming across a post by servers complaining that they were frequently hit on at work. So I decided to incorporate these ideas in this fic. I also had an idea about the characters running a Tsundere Cafe in the high school AU setting. I lost interest in that, but I still wanted to incorporate my idea of the kind of server Inosuke would be, so this fic came about! I think it was timely, considering that we’re venturing into “this fic was supposed to be based in the restaurant but nothing happens in the restaurant” territory lmao.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my fic, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This story is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously! Although I mostly write for myself, your encouragement keeps me motivated to post and share my work.

[5ivebyfive]

I’m proud of myself for staying away from comments and debates about the USWNT. It would only harm me, because I’m already in a bad mental place in general and I feel words too hard. I don’t want to see them being bashed and hated on all because they’re women. Strong, capable, talented women who fight for what they deserve, who fight for those who can’t, and who are all individuals and proud of who they are. I admire these women so much. They play for a country who are terrible to them and want to bring them down because they have small minds. Because the fact that so much of their hate comes from their own country is so sad. And infuriating. The hate for the stupidest things. For standing up for the oppressed, for wanting equal pay for equal (better) work, for being POC or gay or women. For not being “patriotic” enough when they don’t say the same about men. It must be hard for them to represent us when so many don’t support them.

No, they aren’t at their best right now, but that is so complex as to why. And people don’t want to consider those factors.

These are human beings, doing what they love, trying their damnesd, wanting it all — for us and for themselves — knowing they are better than this. And they get cut down so harshly. And they know it. They know what they’ll get. And they just want to be happy and to win, and that crushing feeling we saw in them…heartbreaking. The vets who probably won’t be there again, the babes who wanted so much at their first try. They’ll try again, they’ll be better structured, they’ll have a better coach, and next time will be better. But they’ll have even less support. And sometimes I wonder if other countries, who get the full support from their own country, understand what our ladies get for their work.

It’s heartbreaking that they lost, but it’s more heartbreaking to see that their country isn’t behind them. Isn’t supporting them or offering them sympathy. Thanking them for what they did do. Appreciation for how hard they worked under terrible leadership. If we don’t support them, and their coach doesn’t support them, who will? How will they be okay? These women, these humans, these Americans. They deserve everything any single random human deserves. But they don’t even get acceptance or decency.

We should give them a welcome home party. We really should. They fought for us and they tried, and they deserve a welcome home tour. They deserve to meet us, those who do support them, love them, appreciate them. They deserve to smile and laugh with us and hear us thank them and shower them with praise. I want to. So much. I want to hug every one of them and say “thank you” “I believe in you” “my heart is full because of you”. They need that. And big hugs if they want them.

I want to shake Alyssa’s hand and tell her I nearly cried at her PK.

I want to tell Naomi that she is fierce and held up.

I want to squeeze Sophia’s hands and tell her how proud I am of her and how 2027 will be hers.

I want to tell Julie how integral she’s been to this team and how much I’ll miss seeing her blue headband on the pitch.

I want to look into Kristie’s eyes and say “you did good”.

I want to tell Kelley she’s part of the backbone on the team and they are all better because of her and her support (and ask her to be the real coach).

I want to meet Alex to tell her I believe in her, I admire her, and she’ll get everything she deserves.

I want to hug Crystal (again) and do anything to make her smile that amazing smile. And tell her how incredible she is.

I want to stand before Pinoe and…maybe bow down to her. I want to tell her that she’s so admired for her bravery, words, skill, and how she holds us up. I want to thank her for being proud and gay and a woman and making me feel better about myself just by seeing her standing on the pitch.

I want to hug Lynn so hard. I want to tell her how long I’ve adored her and been behind her. Even when I couldn’t find more than one other person who didn’t hate her or shame her or make fun of her just because of the team she was on. Tell her how much her existence makes me smile. That Snacks is my happy hour. No matter how low I feel. I want to see her smile in person (again) and just tell her I’m proud of her. That I can’t wait to er her back in club, to see her called up again, to see her go to the Olympics. Tell her she’s my favorite of all.

And basically, hug and gush and admire every single woman on that team. Make sure they know we support them, love them, root for them. That we are so fucking proud of them no matter what. That my heart swells for them even when I have to watch them cry.

They need us now. More than ever. They need to be showered in our respect and love. Reminded that we know. We know what they had to deal with and we know they’re better than that.

If I could, if I had the spoons or resources, I’d start a movement to create something for them. Maybe a video with everyone’s love and support across the world. I dunno. They deserve something like that.

One Nation. One team. WE BELIEVE.

And we love, adore, and respect our glittering USWNT. Always.

(Any hate, toxicity, negativity WILL be ignored and blocked because this is not that time or that post.)

I hope you’ll reblog this to show your support.

[just-some-castaways]

The Girl in My Head

Author: Nate

- So there's this girl, who lives in my head. I didn't ask for her, and she's not perfect or seductive or anything along those lines. Truth be told, she's far more akin to a close friend than some weird craving for female companionship.

It's funny, the way I chose to phrase that first line: "There's this girl, who lives in my head." Because I think that suggests that she's imaginary, and exists only in a perfect little dreamland.

That's simply not the case. Yes, I have worlds in my head. No, they're not perfect, more often than not they're far from it. Yes, my mind is what most people would call "hopelessly broken." I get that, I understand that to most people, the line between imaginary and reality is easily definable, and straightforward to navigate. Well, for me it's not.

So for the sake of stepping into someone else's shoes for a moment or two, just amuse me and imagine this girl is a part of the physical world, as tangible as you or I. (Said the boy from behind a screen)

This girl is sweet, and funny, and likes vanilla Chai-lattes with skim milk and a shot of espresso. She has a passion for digital art and loves to draw people, especially people she's met. Some of her favorite pass times are cross-country running, hiking, traveling, making and admiring art, and reading auto-biographies.

She's grew up in Italy before moving to Canada with her parents when she was 10. A couple times a year, she flies back to her home town to visit her extended family and friends. I think she gets homesick a lot, but she's never openly said so as far as I'm aware.

I don't remember how we met, or when, but we get along really well. She's one of those people who just makes you feel comfortable and safe, purely by being around her. Her sense of humor is a somewhat lacking, (she greatly dislikes puns which is a shame, cause I think they're pretty punny).

At one point, I had a crush on her that lasted several months. But we're not particularly complimentary of each other's traits so it died out a while ago. Now we're just close friends, content to look elsewhere for that "special someone." We've spent a lot of time just hiking in the woods, appreciating nature in silent awe, and occasionally passing back and forth obscure fun facts or talking about life.

Now that you know a bit more about her, and I've told you about various experiences we've shared, I'd like to point out that she's "completely imaginary," at least by most people's standards.

Let me tell you one more thing about this girl. She's a part of me. She embodies different aspects of myself, and my past. She's a fragment of me I couldn't hold in place, and as a result she grew into her own person. So yes, she is technically imaginary, but she's also real. I'm real, so why should you have a right to say that part of me that broke off isn't? That she can't exist simply because you can't see or talk to her, and she doesn't have a physical form.

When your friends aren't around by someone asks you what option they're prefer, or what their response might be to a certain opinion, you instinctively know at least close to what they might say right? Well who's to say your friends aren't just imaginary, because I can't see them right now can I? And yet you know things about them that you don't even have to think about to call to mind.

The girl in my head is real, because I'm real. Please don't invalidate those with such deep trauma that they break into fragments and can't be put back together. Try to respect each part of them as valid and worthy of respect. Show them the same kindness you'd show to anyone else who still has their mind in one piece.

-

Hello, my name is Nathanael, and I am part of the Castaways system. Thank you for reading my rambles, and please remember that just because you don't understand something, doesn't make it not true. Especially when it comes to walking in someone else's shoes.

[dragonologist-phd]

Owlcatober Day 5 - ruins

Cleo’s new companion reminds her of home. She does the same for him.

(Some timeline notes- due to the intersection of Cleo's playthrough and the release of the dlc, Cleo recruited Ulbrig and went through his quest all in Act 5. So while this takes place during one of the first parts of his quest, it also takes place while she is on the Legend Path and already multiclassed as a druid)

also on ao3

A change settles over Ulbrig as the party ventures deeper into Currantglen.

He’s a strange man to begin with; archaic and hard-headed, but full of a rugged friendliness that reminds Cleo of home. There’s a lot about him that reminds Cleo of home. Hells, if his wild story turns out to be true, there’s a chance he’s her great-great-great-grandfather, or some rot like that.

Cleo wasn’t sure how she felt about that at first, but she’d admired the guts it took to barge into her citadel the way he had. With nerve like that…well, even if he isn’t true Sakorian like he claims, he’s sure as shit some kind of Kellish.

But even the Kellids aren’t made of stone, and with every crumbling ruin and abandoned landmark they come across, Ulbrig’s nerves edge closer to failing.

It’s the Stone of Voices that breaks him. He beams when they find the thing, tells Cleo that it will call any and all remaining Sakorians to them immediately. He sounds it, and he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

The sun is sinking lower now, but still…he waits. He sits with his back against the stone, his eyes dull and distant as Cleo watches with growing uncertainty. There’s an itch under her skin that says she should comfort him, but...damn if she knows how to do that.

Finally, when the sun has almost sunken below the horizon, Cleo decides enough is enough. Ulbrig needs support, and she needs to send in the cavalry.

This is a job for Kitty.

As soon as the thought enters her head, the smilodon responds. Cleo is still getting used to that kind of connection, and it’s a little strange to see the animal move in time with her thoughts, uncurling from her place at Cleo’s feet to approach the sullen man. The whole thing reminds her of home all over again in a way she can’t shake off.

But Ulbrig seems to appreciate it. He snaps back to attention as Kitty rubs her head against his shoulder, and after a moment he lifts his hand to scratch her head. She nudges his arm out of the way and plops down to place her head in his lap, purring contentedly. He shifts to avoid the cut of her long, curved teeth, and he does so he lifts his gaze to Cleo’s.

“She listens to you well.”

“Nah. She does what she wants.” Cleo moves to sit down on the other side of Kitty, and the smilodon thwacks Cleo’s leg with her tail. Cleo rolls her eyes. “See? She’s a tyrant.”

Ulbrig gives a chuckle, but the humor is short-lived. His dark gloom soon returns, and Cleo groans.

“Okay, I know this sucks, but I have to ask: are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Ulbrig repeats, his voice flat. “How can I be? My country is gone. My clan is dead. My god does not speak to me. Where am I supposed to go, when everything I know has disappeared?”

Cleo is quiet a moment. She runs her hands through Kitty’s fur, trying to think. Her record’s not when it comes to this whole encouragement thing, but…Ulbrig’s is a language she knows how to speak.

“You defend the land, yeah?,” she says. “That’s what I’m doing, and we’re close to chasing the demons out. I can’t help with the rest of it. I haven’t seen my own clan in…shit, I don’t even know how long. And all I’ve ever known about gods is how to piss them off. But I know you want to kick the Worldwound’s ass, and that? That, I can help with.”

A grim smile crosses Ulbrig’s face. “That much is true. I’ve seen it; you’re a decent leader.”

“Me?” Cleo snorts. “Not even close. I’ve been making a mess of things since I woke up here. But I’m trying. That’s the rough part, isn’t it? Even when everything’s fucked, you gotta keep trying.”

Ulbrig takes in her words. He looks down at Kitty’s head in his lap as she yawns, showing off her impressive set of jaws. The sight brings another smile to his face, and he nods. “All right, then. I stick with you for now.”

Cleo claps him on the back. “Welcome to the clan.” She glances at Ulbrig’s fancy boulder and adds, “We can keep trying here, too. Could be something more to find. Things more impossible than that have happened in just the last week.”

“I’d appreciate it,” Ulbrig says. He rises to his feet- much to Kitty’s offense- and turns to face the Stone.

“And you,” he scolds, “should know that I mean it when I say I’ll back. And you’d better prepared, because if you fail me a second time, I’ll you pummel you into rubble with my bare hands!”

Cleo grins viciously, and she gives the rock a kick. “He won’t be alone, either, you hear? Little pebble like you doesn’t stand a chance.”

Ulbrig bellows out a laugh. “Yes! So you think about that while we’re gone. Think long and hard.” He gives the stone one last look, humor and grief warring in his eyes, but he finally manages to tear himself away. “We’re done here. The little miscreant can stew for a few days. I bet when we get back, it’ll be singing like a bird.”

“Damn right,” Cleo agrees. And for Ulbrig’s sake, she decides to actually believe it.

[5-seconds-in-heaven]

Bad Teacher, pt 3

Mid-morning sunlight filtered into the room through the windowpanes, flooding the floor and furniture with light, and I watched specks of dust float helplessly through the stagnant air before floating off into shade through still-sleeping eyes. After making a mental note to vacuum, I reached my arms up over my head to stretch as I laid appreciatively in the warmth of my blankets. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I propped myself up on my elbow and reached for my phone. 10:42, the time on the screen read. I never claimed to be a morning person.

I set my phone aside then, sitting up fully and stretching my body more before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I stood, taking in my surroundings more: the dirty socks on the floor, the long-haired calico — that’s Momo — curled up at the foot of the disheveled bed, the books and vinyls and plants all in their places being gently kissed by light sunshine and dust. Inhaling deeply, I realized a small smile had formed on my face.

In the bathroom, steam slowly clouded the mirror as the streaming shower water hesitantly came to temperature — just below 3rd degree burns, that is. I moseyed back to the bedroom to get my portable speaker, because I can’t do anything without music. My own naked form in the full-length mirror beside my bed caught my eye on my way back to the bathroom. I paused and took a minute to admire myself; the curves on my body reminded me of winding backroads and bountiful hills. I used to spend a lot of time hiding my body and myself, I allowed my insecurities to rule my life. With time, I have learned to love being me. As I traced my silhouette slowly, with purpose, I surrendered to my thoughts, giving them access to roam. With my aforementioned insecurities came little luck in love throughout my teenage years — my home life definitely didn’t help. When I got to college, I found more freedom in escaping my family and the constraints of my hometown. I dabbled in going out with different guys, and I even had my first hookups. I was friends with benefits with this one guy I spent a while talking to, but it never amounted to anything more. That is the story with all of my sexual escapades.

However, it had been a long time since I was that chubby-cheeked, freckle-faced, cut-in-half-2x4-plank-of-wood of a girl. I was still small in stature of course, but I had gained some hips and bust thus far in my young womanhood. I was 23 now, and I finally found a decent job after searching for two years; I graduated early from my university with a major in journalism and a minor in women’s studies. I’d been reporting for an up-and-coming music magazine that specialized in underground rock and alternative music. Basically the best job ever. Being that I chose to go to university half the country away from my family in Minnesota, I obviously had to move out at the start of freshman year. I welcomed this move with open arms, although I know I’ll be working my ass off for the rest of my life to pay off my student loans; it was still worth it.

I smiled fully at myself in the mirror, thinking I looked pretty fucking good, if I did say so myself. I did a little dance and gave myself a small spank on the butt, giggling to myself, “To think there are people out there who didn’t want all of this.” Tossing my head back and letting out a laugh, I left the supermodel in the mirror behind to go wash the eye boogers and drool off of my face.

Speaking of those who got away, my mind drifted through my old crushes. The skater boy with the beanie who I used to see skateboarding past my house in the summertime who I never spoke to but made longing eyes at as I lazed in the hammock or the grass by the tree, the boy who played guitar for me who I discovered was not as down to earth as he portrayed himself to the world. My cheeks heated as I thought of one specific crush.

Mr. Hemmings.

I groaned and held my head in my hands, cringing internally as the scalding water ran over my frame. Late nights on Tumblr with my hand between my thighs came rushing to mind — along with pages upon pages of smut featuring this certain high school creative writing teacher. Smut-filled stories written by yours truly, the same shy, insecure virgin who didn’t talk to a boy until college you know and love.

I’d like to act like this wasn’t a common occurrence for me, that I had the ability to walk through my life without inwardly punching my own face for my past actions, but I am plagued by the memories of my own hormonal, criminally horny prepubescence every day of my life. Before I knew it, I found that my hand had again made its way between my thighs at the image of Mr. Hemmings’ face in my head: his lips trailed light kisses along my jaw and down my neck as his arm reached around me and held my body closer, tighter to him. His other hand teased my hardening nipple between his fingers, and he smirked against my skin as I tossed my head backwards, breathing out a sigh of relief at his touch. Lightly, he dug his fingernails into my skin as he dragged his hand down my back. That same friendly hand now snaked it’s fingers down my front to separate my folds and, light as a ghost, tease my —

Yeah… this is gonna be a long shower.

—

Squeezing my hair in the towel, I strode back into the bedroom, feeling refreshed. On the nightstand, I could see my phone lit up from a notification. It was a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number

You know, you’re a pretty talented writer.

I stared at the message, puzzled. Possibilities ran through my mind — past clients I’d written pieces for, old friends. Deciding to deal with it later, I put my phone down and set to starting my skincare routine. As I moisturized, my phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number

I suppose I can thank myself for getting your creative juices flowing.

Now I found myself intrigued. Who is this mystery man sending me vaguely flirty, vaguely ominous texts? Should I be horny or changing my locks? Either way, I’m horny. My fun time in the shower didn’t cut it. Alright, I’ll bite. I shoot back a quick text and make my trek across the quaint apartment to the fridge to chug some orange juice out of the jug. Why dirty another glass when I’m the only one who drinks it anyway? In the pocket of my sweatpants, I felt my phone vibrate. At least this mystery texter is quick to respond.

Me

you can thank yourself, but who should i thank?

Unknown Number

The man who got you started in creative writing, of course.

Creative writing. My stomach hit my feet and my heart jumped to my neck, immediately halting my breathing by lodging a lump securely at the base of my throat. I felt my heart beating fast and hard, my cheeks and ears heating promptly, as I paced the hardwood flooring and chewed on my fingernail. Why on earth would my 11th grade creative writing teacher have sought out my phone number? and then texted me with it?!

Alright now, get ahold of yourself, YN. It’s not out of the ordinary for an old mentor to reach out to past students, especially to congratulate them on their success, right? It’s no secret that I had been able to achieve great things thus far in my work, and I’m sure I help myself in that aspect by reposting my work on my social media platforms occasionally. Obviously, he had seen one of my articles. I’m still getting ahead of myself here; I haven’t even confirmed that the person on the other end of the phone is Mr. Hemmings. Mr. Tousled-Hair Hemmings. Mr. God-The-Things-I-Would-Do-To-Run-My-Fingers-Through-Those-Golden-Locks Hemmings. It could be someone else entirely, for all I know. Better get to work.

Me

many people have helped me get to where i am today.

Unknown Number

Alright, I secede. This is Luke Hemmings. Or Mr. Hemmings, if you still prefer that.

Heat rushed to my face all over again. I let out an audible scream before slapping my hand over my mouth and flinging myself onto the bed, flailing my extremities and squealing as I dove my face into the pillows to silence my episode, certain the paper-thin walls would inevitably fail to keep the sounds from my neighbors curious ears. Rushing to sit upright, I stared at the message through wide eyes. The confirmation was there, directly in front of me on the screen in my trembling hands, but I refused to believe it. I continued to stare at message, dumbfounded and confused. I wondered what piece he had seen that had made him want to reach out to a student he hadn’t seen in six years. I’d better respond, I didn’t want to be rude.

Me

Luke!

I stared at the message, nose crinkled. Is it less weird to refer to your old teacher by their first name or the name you called them by years ago? Does being sexually attracted to them influence the decision making process? I deleted the text, deciding to try a different approach. I also decided to bypass the questions about how did you get my number and whatnot.

Me

Mr. Hemmings, it’s great to hear from you! your class definitely had a great influence on me.

Unknown Number

I can see that in your work. I have to say, I’m impressed. It is tough to find good reading material these days. Your story definitely has some plot holes, and it ends on a cliffhanger, which is obviously problematic. A good author doesn’t leave their fans hanging indefinitely, you know. But for your age at the time, I’m quite happy with the quality of writing.

Panic shot through me. I felt the soles of my feet tingling as all of the air left my lungs, like wind rushing out of a clearing of trees. My mind raced through every piece I’d ever written — every editorial, every fluff piece. There was only one story he could have been talking about. But what did he mean he was impressed? He was happy? Is there any world, any universe in the metaverse of universes, where my old high school teacher would have actually been into the smut my prepubescent self wrote involving the two of us? That he would have found it years later and sought me out?

Just then, my phone buzzed from another text notification. This one contained a file.

Unknown Number

attachment: The Bad Teacher.wordx

[i-did-not-mean-to]

For Queen and Country

Well, here goes another one for AU-gust. This time for @jaz-the-bard!

Suprise, surprise...It's the Gondolin OT3 <3

AU Prompt: Fairytale AU

Dialogue Prompt: I don't know how to repay you...

Words: 931

Characters: Maeglin x Tuor x Idril

Warnings: A dangerous promise, a swoon, a quasi-abduction?

English is a foreign language to me, very relevant in this instance, please excuse me if this is all wrong. I've tried!

“Hail, son of Gondolin,” Tuor cried aloud when he finally caught sight of his quarry. “I am come to deliver thee.”

The wretched creature leaning against a dead tree lifted a weary gaze to the young knight striding towards him confidently.

“Who are you?” Suspicion and unexpected belligerence glinted in the dark eyes whose frankness startled and discomfited Tuor.

“Thy kinswoman, the Lady Idril, Princess of Gondolin the Fair, sends me,” Tuor replied frankly, holding aloft the token of favour that noble dame had consigned to his care.

Scoffing, the staggering stranger—lithe and enchantingly delicate in appearance—gave a dismissive wave of his fine-boned hand and collapsed in a sudden swoon.

Upon arriving in a hidden kingdom—led by strange and otherworldly forces—Tuor had promptly been introduced to the most magical of beings to have graced his life yet—Princess Idril. Fair as a clear summer sky and wise as the rivers and oceans that had led him thence, the young woman had ultimately entrusted him with a secret quest that was evidently dear to her very own heart.

Indeed, her beloved kinsman had failed to return to the palace’s safety and her respectful care, and she was much aggrieved.

“He may have been injured,” she had said with a mournful mien but dry eyes. “To put my mind at ease, I’d beg thee to seek my cousin in the wild lands yonder and restore him to his rightful place at my side.”

Eager to be of service to one so lovely, Tuor had promptly taken the necessary steps to ready himself thoroughly for his imminent departure—for he knew not what perils or enemies he might encounter—when the young princess slipped into the chamber he had been graciously allotted by the goodwill of the king, her father.

Even though she had treated him like a cherished and trusted friend from the very beginning, Tuor had been startled and discomfited by this renewed display of intimacy—he had only just made her acquaintance, and he had not been able to fathom why she’d incur the danger of ruining her reputation and drawing her father’s wrath by coming to a man’s chamber unchaperoned.

“Forgive my intrusion,” she had whispered in an enchantingly low, thrumming voice. “If thou wouldst dare this feat and succeed, my hand shall be thine.”

Bowing low over those pale, slender digits, Tuor had made a polite remark about how honourable and admirable one must account the love she bore her erring cousin and accounted himself a fool for not finding a better turn of phrase to express his befuddled, confused thoughts.

Now, as he regarded the self-same kinsman with unadulterated appreciation and amazement, he no longer considered Princess Idril the most selfless and charitable of ladies for evidently no soul—independently of its quality—could have suffered the loss of a being so precious and charming.

“Where do you take me?” Maeglin cried as soon as his heavy lids fluttered open once more to behold the foreboding forest surrounding his uncle’s secret city. “Unhand me anon, fiend!”

Dutifully explaining his mission and his solemn promise of service and duty to the princess in more detail, Tuor believed that he’d finally get the gratitude that was due to him. Surely, he thought, this fey prince would thank him for braving the bleak wilderness and the roaming enemies to carry him home.

“Do not trust the Princess,” Maeglin hissed instead, his beautiful eyes alight with ire. “What corrupting phantasm did she pledge to you?”

Abashed, Tuor confessed, his words halting on account of his tongue being heavy with apprehension now. Just as he had suspected that he had indeed been bespelled by the beautiful lady, he presently felt enchanted by her enraged cousin.

As he looked upon that bewitching face thoughtfully, a sudden change came over the frail-looking young man in his arms—those dark, unfathomable eyes grew soft and appealing, and his hitherto raucous voice turned into warm honey, dripping like poison into Tuor’s ringing ears.

“I shall plight thee my troth,” Maeglin purred seductively, his expressive eyes turning into wells of earnest pleading and corrupting closeness. “Swear thou only that thou wouldst not bid me return to Gondolin to be condemned as a villain and a traitor.”

Slowing his steps, Tuor gave this new opportunity some thought—in truth, a fantastical, mad inspiration had overcome him, and he had started to dream that he might wed both of them for he could not bear to lose either one’s favour.

“My name is Tuor, son of Huor,” he said slowly, “and I live to serve.”

A sly expression flashed across Maeglin’s handsome face that shone with a mysterious light in the becharming chiaroscuro of the dense canopy.

“If thou wouldst not desist, at least delay!” Maeglin pleaded softly, placing a strong but svelte hand on Tuor’s broad chest. “I am Maeglin, and I would call thee my friend.”

The change of tone and the bewildering intimacy between them halted Tuor completely.

“So be it,” he finally declared in a voice that had grown raspy with emotion. “Come the morn, we shall make for Gondolin, and I shall speak on thy behalf to thy uncle, the king, and thy esteemed cousin.”

“I don’t know how to repay thee,” Maeglin purred in deceiving accents of obedience and surrender.

“Be true to thy word,” Tuor replied sternly, thus betraying that he was more aware of the guiles and deceptions of the fair and the powerful than Maeglin might have thought. “And I shall be true to mine.”

@fellowshipofthefics: Here's the first for this month!!!

Thank you, @jaz-the-bard for giving me th opportunity to write them again!