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biisexualemma · 1 year

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confessions (pt.5). rafe cameron

word count: 4.2k

warnings: swearing

requested: yup

plot: rafe won't leave you alone until you talk to him

a/n: i was gonna split this in two but then i thought fuck it... so prepare yourself this is a long one… but worth it 👀

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 6

your bottom lip slipped out into a small pout as you walked away from the table you'd be serving and approached the bar, where your coworker nate wore a small smile.

"i need two seltzers and a small white wine for table six please, nathanial," you handed him the check you'd written out, turning away while he began making the drinks for your table.

you eyed up your section, running through each of your tables in your head to make sure everyone was sorted and you hadn't forgotten anything.

"when's your next day off?" nate asked, making conversation.

"sunday," you let out a soft sigh, leaning on the bar for a minute, propping your head up with your chin in the palm of your hand.

he hummed, "me too,"

"sucks," you huff and he raises his eyebrows in agreement. "i'm so tired i feel like i could sleep for a whole week."

"think of the money," he tried to reassure and all you could do was nod. he pushed the tray towards you with the drinks made, ready to be taken to their table. "ready to go, better get a smile on that pretty face of yours if you want good tips."

you plastered on your best fake smile, to which he chuckled softly, "attagirl."

you walked over to your table balancing the tray on your hand, when something caught your eye on the other side of the room. you glanced over quickly to see kelce and topper talking amongst themselves, all geared up to play a round of golf. you gulped, this seriously couldn't be happening again, you didn't have it in you to deal with either of them today or ever again.

they continued to talk, seemingly unaware of your presence so you dragged your eyes away, focusing on the customers in front of you as they gave you their orders. you couldn't help but sneak glances at the pair of kooks, anxious that they might start something with you again. and when you thought it couldn't get much worse, rafe approached the two of them, adjusting the golf glove on his hand as they began talking all three of them.

you wanted the universe to swallow you whole, disappear, vanish before any of them could see you but it was too late. the universe hated you.

rafe caught your eye. you quickly looked away, finishing writing down the customers orders, fidgeting with your pen as you did so. you politely thanked them and took their menus, not daring to look over at the three boys again.

you quickly shuffled back to the bar, head in hands, hiding your face as best you could but it was too late, he'd already seen you.

"i hate my life," you muttered under your breath.

"what's going on?" nate asked, intrigued he leaned closer to you.

"rafe cameron," was all you said.

"what about him?" his eyebrows knitted slightly.

"is he still standing over in the corner?" you asked, peering up through your hands at nate who was nosing discreetly at said-corner.

"no," he said quickly. you let out a brief sigh of relief. "he's walking over here."

your eyes widened, ready to scald nate for not leading with that but before you could say anything, rafe cameron was standing beside you.

"hey," you turned to face him, trying to disguise your obvious discomfort with a forced smile. "i didn't know you were working today."

"i picked up a last minute shift," you didn't know why you were explaining this to him, or why you were talking to him at all. you'd agreed to give yourself some space from him after the last time you'd seen him.

you'd been embarrassed for letting yourself get caught up in whatever rafe was doing. so what if he was nice to just you, so what if he looked really good in the morning (or all of the time), so what if he wanted to look out for you. these were all completely normal things and you had to get it out of your head that he had ulterior motives. it was clear the last time you'd spoken that he saw you as his sisters friend, someone he felt semi-obligated to look out for when the occasion arose.

he hummed, eyes trailing over to nate who stood a bit too closely looking between the two of you. rafe furrowed his brows for a second, giving him a once over before moving back to you. nate seemed to take the hint and take a few steps back, giving you guys some space.

"i, uh, just wanted to let you know i spoke to kelce," he reached up, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he said it. "so you don't have to worry about him anymore."

your eyebrows pulled together into a small frown, lips parting slightly before you gathered your thoughts and answered him. "i didn't ask you to do that."

he shrugged. "you didn't have to," your eyes looked up at his curiously. why would he do that? "didn't want you to feel uncomfortable having to come to work when he's here."

you opened your mouth, hesitating to speak. "oh," was all you could think of to say. "oh ok," you repeated, slightly baffled. he definitely didn't need to defend you to his friends. your mind was working overtime trying to figure out why he'd go out of his way to do this for his sisters friend?

"thanks—" you were cut short when nate cleared his throat, your eyes pulling away from rafe and over to the tray of drinks.

"table two need their drinks and eight need their order taking," he eyed up rafe for a second before turning to you, trying to figure out what kind of situation this was.

you nodded quickly, pulling yourself out of the bubble you often found yourself in when it came to rafe. you looked up at him with sympathetic eyes as you grabbed the tray of drinks.

"i'm sorry i really have to go—" he went to speak but you were already moving away from him. you were so lost in this situation, all you could think to do was avoid him and maybe this would all go away and everything would go back to normal. "enjoy your golf!"

at least that was what you had convinced yourself you wanted.

you dragged your feet as you made your way across the parking lot, yawning as you tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ears, pulling at your hair to tighten it where it was tied out of your face. you rubbed your tired eyes and thought about how good it would feel when you could finally get off your feet and switch your brain off.

but alas, you had a feeling that wouldn't be happening anytime soon because leaning against the side of your dad's truck was rafe cameron. he watched you walk over towards him, eyes raking over you until you stood in front of him. he shot you half a smile, you folded your arms over your chest.

"hey," he spoke once you were close enough, smile lingering on his lips.

"rafe," you acknowledged his existence but you didn't want to talk right now. you'd done enough smiling and conversing at work for the past eight hours, you didn't have it in you to smile and be nice to another kook today. even if it was rafe.

you'd done your best to avoid him all day. you were convinced you'd actually lose your mind if you had to spend another second thinking about rafe and his motives. so when he sent you a wave when he got back from his round of golf, you pretended not to see it, and when he sat at the bar and ordered himself a drink afterwards, you busied yourself with clearing tables. you couldn't let yourself get sucked into something that wasn't real, you didn't have the time or energy for it.

"busy day?" you nodded, trying to reach around him for the door handle but he edged in front of it, blocking your way into the truck and wearing a cheeky half-grin while he was doing it. "yeah i figured that's why i didn't see much of you today."

you huffed, answering him, "yup."

it wasn't a lie because you had been busy working all day but you had also been busy ducking every time he walked passed the restaurant (which happened to be a lot— which meant a lot of ducking).

"right," he nodded, eyes squinted a little from the late afternoon sun. "so... how are you?"

you narrowed your eyes at him, "tired and ready to leave this place," still he didn't move. you sighed, wishing he would get to the point already so you could leave.

he hummed, staring at you for a moment, eyes flickering over your face, watching how you held his stare. he figured he'd get to the point. "you've been avoiding me."

"no, i haven't," he knew you were lying, but in order to get the nice, rosy, sweet image of rafe that had been developing in your head, out of your head, you had been doing just what he accused you of. "i've just been working."

he wasn't letting you off that easy, you weren't a good liar and rafe seemed to be able to tell when you weren't telling the whole truth. it was a little bit annoying to be honest.

"what'd i do?" the half-grin had slipped from his lips and was replaced with a sort of grimace as he questioned you.

"nothing," you said it a bit too fast.

"liar," he was just as quick.

"rafe," there you went saying his name like it was a burden. "c'mon, i'm tired."

he could tell by your tone of voice and the sour expression you wore on your face as you pleaded with him, that you'd had enough for one day. unfortunately, rafe couldn't let this one go, he hadn't been able to think about anything else all day. he'd had the worst game of golf he'd ever played in his life, all because of you.

"just tell me what i did and i'll leave," he bargained but you just let out an impatient whine.

"you didn't do anything wrong," it was the truth. "so how can i have been avoiding you?" that was a lie.

you had gotten slightly swept up in something that wasn't there. that wasn't necessarily his fault so you couldn't hold it against him, he was just being nice. even if it was completely out of character.

you could see his mind ticking over as he thought hard about all of it, his eyebrows softly knitted together. he shook his head, eyes narrowing in on you. "y/n— c'mon, just tell me the truth— i won't be offended."

"seriously, i'm not mad at you and i've not been avoiding you," you sighed, trying your hardest to sound convincing because you really wanted him to drop the subject. "except for right now this second because you're blocking my only way outta' here and i'm so tired, rafe," you couldn't help but stomp your foot a little as you whined that last part.

he looked you over for a second, hair kinda messy, your eyes heavy and your lip almost forming a pout. his eyebrows twitched into a frown. "what have they got you working so many hours for?" you breathed out a sigh, he was nothing if not persistent.

"i choose to work so many hours because i don't have my daddy's money to fall back on," you were maybe a little meaner than you needed to be, but you had warned him you were tired and cranky and it was nothing rafe hadn't heard before.

"ok— low ball but fair," he shrugged, letting you off but still not budging.

"get in the truck," you weren't going to shake him anytime soon so you said it quickly before you could change your mind.

"this truck?" he glanced briefly over his shoulder, pointing at the beaten up truck he'd been leaning up against for god knows how long. "your truck?"

"if you're gonna be like this then just come with me," you motioned towards the car, urging him to make a decision quickly.

"will you tell me why you're mad at me if you do?" he tried one last time.

"no," you rolled your eyes. "because i'm not."

he huffed. "alright, fine."

—

"you're not going home?" he questioned, finally breaking the silence when you took a different turning, pulling up in a small clearing leading to the water. he figured with you being so tired that the first thing you'd wanna do is go home and crash.

"no," you answered as you put the car in park. "my dad's working and i don't— i wanted to come here instead."

he looked over at you sceptically but before he could say anything, you were climbing out the truck and heading down to the water. he huffed, following after you with a jog to catch up.

"i didn't know this place was here," he said, slightly out of breath because you walk surprisingly fast. now he'd caught up with you, he found you sat by the water, looking out to where the sun had started to set.

"most people don't," you mumbled. he sat beside you. "they usually drive right by."

he hummed, glancing at you out the corner of his eyes while you were watching the water. you looked so pretty with the warm, golden sun trickling down your features, he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"stop staring," you muttered, glancing at him for only a second, catching him before he pulled his eyes away. he cleared his throat.

"why'd you bring me here?" he spoke after a few minutes sat in silence. he couldn't help himself, he was bursting with so many questions and you wouldn't answer any of them.

"i don't wanna talk, rafe," you mumbled after he broke the silence. he turned to face you, one leg tucked under the other, his eyes trailing over your side profile. you sat with your leg's tucked up to your chest, your chin rested atop your knees.

"to me? or just in general?" he quizzed, his head tilted to the side as he did.

"both," you huffed, you didn't have the energy to beat around the bush.

he let out a low whistle, "wow ok," his voice a little bit quieter than it had been. "you still don't wanna' tell me what i did?"

you didn't say anything, sitting in your own silence, eyes on the somewhat still water in front of you.

"giving me the silent treatment, huh?" he continued.

your eyes rolled as you glanced at him out the corner of your eye, you were tired of his joking. you really didn't want to talk, you'd only brought him with you because he wouldn't leave you alone.

"can you give me a clue at least?" your head sunk, tucking your face between your knees to hide from him.

"ok, so you're serious about the no talking thing, huh?" he let out a huff, eyes rolling slightly. "i can't apologise if i don't know what i did."

"i don't want you to apologise, i want you to shut up," you mumbled from between your legs.

"she talks!"

"rafe," you groaned, tucking your head further down. you didn't want to have this conversation when you already knew how he would react. you knew he saw you as his little sisters friend, and nothing more, so there was no use dragging this out and kidding yourself into thinking it was something else. you just had to get your head down and suppress any feeling that might have arisen in the past couple weeks until they went away all together.

"c'mon," he reached out, hand gripping your shoulder and giving it a squeeze, trying to pull you out of your shell.

you wanted to push him away but you didn't, instead you lifted your head and turned to look at him with your cheek resting on your knee. you wore a soft frown on your face, one that did something to rafe's insides when he saw it.

he leaned down to look at you, his eyes level with yours, "talk to me."

you humph, straightening yourself out, his hand slipping from your shoulder, "you are relentless."

"that's not the first time i've been told that," his lips curved into a small smile, almost like he was proud of it.

"this is why i don't want to talk to you," your frown deepens and his smile slips. his eyes are watching you carefully, watching your expression change trying to figure you out.

"i—uh—" he lets out a chaste laugh, eyebrows pulling together slightly. "i don't understand."

"you say things like that all the time and i don't know what you mean," you looked visibly frustrated, rafe had no idea you had been holding onto everything he'd been saying. and rafe talked a lot.

"y/n—"

"no, you wanted me to talk so i'm talking," you snapped and he quickly shut his mouth. "you haven't left me alone since that night at the bonfire," his eyes flickered between yours, his lips parted as he hung on your every word. "you're like a completely different fucking person— i seriously don't know what's gotten into you. and i can't tell if you really mean everything you're doing and saying or if you're just messing with me—"

"y/n," rafe tries to stop you, he held his hands out, his eyebrows furrowed tightly.

you shushed him before continuing.

"either way, i can't stop thinking about you," your words hung in the silence that was suddenly created between the two of you. rafe is looking at you intently, you're looking at him with slight panic. "and all of it's really fucking with my head because you're you and i don't even know what you want from me."

your breathing grew heavy after talking nonstop with very few breaks. he's still just looking at you and you can't figure out what he's thinking but what's new. you continue. "so i really don't want to talk to you at all because i'm trying really hard to stop thinking about you... in that way."

rafe's a little bamboozled, and he looks it. he hadn't been expecting you to unload all of that, he especially hadn't been expecting you to admit that you'd been thinking about him. he's quiet for a few seconds, thinking hard on that.

"wait—" he finally speaks, his eyebrows unknitting slightly to release the frown from his face. "so you're mad because you like me?"

"i never said like," you frown before clarifying, "i'm mad at you for doing this to me when i was minding my own business," something about this boy made you so defensive. maybe because you still didn't know where he stood.

"i didn't know," he tried to think of the right thing to say. he quickly reached out and grabbed your forearm when he saw you pull back. "wait—"

"rafe— you don't have to—"

"i wasn't trying to fuck with your head," he said quickly before you can get up to leave, he's gripping you as tight as he can without hurting you. "i genuinely was just trying to help that night of the bonfire, i've known you as long as you and sarah have been friends... i didn't want you getting yourself hurt."

you have this sinking feeling in your chest, he'd confirmed what you had been thinking. he sees you as just a friend— or his sisters friend. "ok— i get it—"

"will you actually shut up for once and let me finish?" your mouth hangs open slightly from where he'd cut you off but you do as he says.

"i couldn't stop myself after the bonfire—" his jaw tightened as his grip on your forearm loosened, realising you're not going anywhere right now. your eyes watched his every move carefully. "you're—you make this face when you're mad—you're usually mad at me but it still— it literally drives me insane."

you can't read his expression. his jaw is prominent, his tongue slips out to wet his lips, his eyes not moving an inch from yours. you would feel intimidated if his eyes weren't so soft.

"insane in a good way?" your eyebrows unknitted as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. you didn't feel so angry anymore, you just needed him to clarify what your busy mind was thinking for once.

"insane like it's all i can think about and sometimes i deliberately piss you off just so you'll make that face."

you have to take a beat before you can form a response, "yeah, that is kind of insane," you let out a deep breath, thinking about what rafe cameron had just admitted to you. it amazed you that he was able to actually use his words for once.

he huffed, running his hand over his face. "yeah, well it's your fault that i'm losing my mind," he looks out onto the water, for a second not able to meet your warm eyes that he knew were waiting for him. "i didn't want anything from you... just really wanted you," he scrunched up his nose as he said it aloud, cringing.

you couldn't help a small smile creeping onto your lips, half amusement and half amazement. this was a different rafe cameron to the one everyone knew, and to who you knew a few weeks ago.

"you want me?" you'd never had a boy tell you he wanted you before, never mind literal kook royalty. a professed pogue-hater, wanted you.

"was that speech not obvious enough for you?" he turned his head only slightly towards you, a little embarrassed as he glanced out the corner of his eye at you. he managed to catch the small smile on your face though, and the way your eyes had softened. "or me literally following you around for the past two weeks."

"no," you said honestly because you hadn't thought any of it was obvious that he liked you as more than a friend. "i'm just still getting used you being a normal, living, breathing human being with wants and feelings"

he rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he finally turned to face you properly again. "you're so funny," you made a face at him, scrunching up your nose with a teasing smile. rafe squints his eyes at you, thinking back to everything you'd said before— because you'd said a lot in a short space of time.

"yeah, well, i'm not always annoyed," you clarified. "you just happen to be a very annoying person," you teased. "who is annoyingly very attractive."

rafe liked this new facet of your relationship, now things were out in the open he felt like he didn't have to bite his tongue so much. and you felt a bit more relaxed around him.

"don't let that go to your head," you said quickly before he could beat you to it. his lips curled into a lopsided grin, glancing away from you for a second.

"i said nothing," he defended himself, holding up his hands.

"yeah, well, your face speaks for you," he narrowed his eyes at you and you let out a laugh. his eyes trailed over you before shaking his head, still wearing that half a smile.

he snorted, "no wonder i had no idea you liked me," he watched you listening to his every word. you didn't correct him this time because you both knew now how the other felt. "you're mean, but at least i tried to be nice to you."

you hum, your smile slipping ever so slightly as you teased back, "you bring out the worst in me, what can i say," you mull over what you're thinking and whether you should say it aloud. you'd gotten this far by being honest, so why stop now. "and i still feel a bit defensive."

rafe bit down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickering between yours. it didn't sit right with him, what you said, but he can't blame you either.

"ok, well, we can work on that," he hums quietly. he notices the way the look your giving him softens and you almost seem to visibly relax with his words.

"you were right when you said i didn't know you." you eye him up. "i thought i did but... i don't know. maybe i was too quick to judge you."

"yeah?" he spoke quietly, hopefully.

"you've given me no reason to doubt you yet," you eye him up sceptically. "please don't give me a reason," you say the last part much quieter, feeling much more vulnerable now than you had ever done with rafe.

rafe was getting to see different sides of you and he didn't want it to stop.

"i don't plan to."

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moles-and-freckles · 6 months

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Marco Bodt's Past and Family Headcanons!

Hi guys, my first post, just my headcanons for my boy's past and family! Maybe a WIP, trust me it is long (2k plus words) but I think I got the gist of it. Some small details, I decided that all their names start with a M but they have very dumb silly nicknames just like my family does. I come from like a very big family of 7 so I put my own personal experiences and quirks here. I tried to give them all their own unique personalities especially his parents to explain how he is the way he is. And I kinda fell in love with them, they are just so wholesome! I used a lot of Pinterest fanarts and headcannons for reference I will credit them when I have the time!

Parents & Background

I'd like to imagine Jinae was a warm place snuggled up in the southern countryside very far off from camp, taking days to visit. wheat, hay, and fields everywhere that Marco and his siblings often got lost in. Life there was pretty simple and everybody was tight-knit country folk who worked on the big farms the lords owned. There was not that much to do there, just as plain as the plains that surrounded them.

Hid parents met on the farm they worked and lived at ever since they were young, she was the one to mostly make the move, and ever since then, they had been in love despite their off personalities. Everybody was shocked that the shy meek loner got the giddy talkative gf haha.

His father, Manuel, works in the fields. The well-off landowners he has worked for ever since he was a young lad were generous enough to let him and his family settle on a small meager humble patch on the outskirts of their big farmland, and he gets most of the leftover wheat with permission to build and support his wife with their little run of the mill bakery which was their abode.

Manuel is like an old workhorse, tired and stern, with rough scarred hands, but gets the job done. Marco definitely has his chubby long face and eyes but Manuel has this more tired-lidded look to it. He was born with a delicate condition that affected his work and health a lot but he also was still diligent when it came to providing for his family even when it cost him at times.

He's a gentle thoughtful stern man who is quiet and only speaks a few yet wise words, but that never stopped him from being a bad father, he was rather sweet and mellow, and he was always good at reading people and his children and wife’s needs. Probably that guy who always says “yes honey” to his always-correct wife.

Now we go onto Miriam. Marco got her freckles and his red nose from her definitely thank her for that! She’s extraverted and Giddy, but She has a kind gentle mellow soul who you definitely at first glance would say is a mother. She liked to fill her kids' stories up with dreams, fairy tales, and lullabies and fill up their bellies with delicious food. Shes the main manager of their whole bakery along with a housewife, but things had been hectic given the family's size so she thought the kids were thought to help as well.

So in the end, I'd like to think Marco got his dreaminess and positiveness from his extroverted mother. while he has his father's thoughtful, observant, and understanding nature and why he cares a lot about duty! Combine both and you get this sunshine right here!

Siblings

Marco grew up the oldest of 6 kids, 3 daughters and 3 sons. It was a rowdy bunch and sometimes times were rough due to the money, but he loved it there and his big family, he’d often tell the stories to Erna, and it always made

I don't know who started the headcanon I've been seeing since 2013 that Marco is a big brother, but its absolute canon now to me it makes perfect sense given his personality, always being the giver rather than the receiver…

The Twins, Matteo “Teo” and Mattea “Tea (pronounced Te-yah)” would be born, when Marco was about 4.

Teo is a cheeky little bastard, blunt with his words, and often got into trouble with others and older folks which Marco often had to be in his side to restrain or put him in his place. Marco kinda sees Matteo in Jean a lot, Snarky and smug but honest and loyal deep down. Probably why he was adamant about being on good terms with Jean even if the boy seemed like a jerk to Marco at first.

While Tea is the opposite of Teo, she’s more like her father, tired and gentle, she’s very well-read, preppy for a country bumpkin, and observant but she prefers to keep her mouth shut, but when she doesn’t, it's always something wise or snarky. She would rather die than admit she is as full of herself as Teo haha. She had to keep up with the likes of Matteo ever since she was born so she’s mostly done with everybody’s bs.

The twins' dynamic sorta reminds him of Jean and Erna’s a lot due to them always bickering and bantering wittily, so it brings a chuckle out of him sometimes, they were like their family to him when his were so far away from home

Micaela “Mica” and Monica “Nica”, aren't twins but they are close to age enough to be mistaken and they are all kind of called that in their family.

Mica is a tomboy and has a thirst for fun and adventure, she's very carefree friendly, and ditzy, unlike Matteo who's sly and snarky. She butts heads with Tea a lot for being an improper lady. The closest to her the most is her little sister Nica and Marco, they're one of the few people who can keep up with her hype. She’s very dreamy and curious and loves to play with others and Marco. Normally the rest would type her off as that weird hyperactive kid.

On the other hand, I'd imagine Nica would be a shy meek yet equally dreamy girl. She always looked up to her elder siblings, especially Marco, they both loved to play and imagine, and he was the one she wanted to do with the most. She's a bit mellow and very quiet and tired due to not being born with the best genes like Marco did, barely even saying a few words across a day. So, Marco was very protective of her growing up.

He was like that to all of his sisters. Braiding their hair, making sure they were safe. He was taught to respect wamen from the very get-go from his mother and he was a big mama’s boy so it was second nature to him to be a gentleman.

Lastly, Manuel, or “Manny” is the baby of the family, who is named after their father. He and Marco have a 12-13 year age gap, Marco enlisted a few months after he was born, so they didnt spend that much time together, something Marco regrets. Manny doesn't remember a lot about Marco other than the stories his mother gave, and the short visits he had on holidays.

But Marco seemed otherwise, cherishing every detail of him. A core memory for the two brothers, Marco and Teo is when they were begging that their mother's baby would be a boy when they huddled around her belly because it was unfair for another girl in the girl’s team, they didnt want to be outnumbered haha and they coincidentally got their gift lol.

Manny is studious just like Marco albeit a bit more timid than his older bubbly brother. It brings an ache yet fondness to Miriam’s heart how similar he is to her first boy, it was like a little gift fate gave her to him to soothe her heart when he went away for camp…then forever.

After that, He never had that many father figures to look for in life. Marco went to the military right after he was out of his mom’s stomach. Then His father died from a broken heart after what happened to Marco when he was just aged 5, and his older brother Matt was just too immature for that role so he had a lot of unanswered questions in his life and was the source of his problems and insecurities.

Childhood

Marco was born just a year after their marriage. Miriam loved children but due to his troubled birth she decided to focus more on Marco for the years to come and that explains the age gap compared to the rest of his siblings. Matteo and Mattea are born 4 years later while the rest of the Bott siblings' ages are 1-2 years apart away from each other at most.

He was born rather sickly like his father, he had a frailer body than most, and fevers often caught him as a a baby. So he knew from the very get-go what it felt like to be weak. Due to that, he was babied a lot by Miriam he turned into a chubby kid from her smothering.

His mother tried to protect him from anything bad in the world after that. His sheltered-ness was always a reason for him to prove himself in front of everybody and be of help instead of being a burden. Always trying to do chores like milking the goats and cows, cleaning, and helping raise his siblings!

He was the first born so he knew he had a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders to keep up with that he often felt like caught up to him. Even if his parents were not that strict and loved him unconditionally, He always felt that pressure to be that golden child to pay back. He often tried to help his father with farmwork but that was rare given Miriam’s pestering, so most of the time he’d help his mom keep his wild siblings in check and lead them.

So to summarize, Marco always had experience being the family therapist and peacemaker, being a big brother and the eldest son made him want to put others' needs before his and his and take his responsibilities seriously. And sometimes he shoulders too much that it costs him…

His social standing as a child was he was shyer and meek than he was in his trainee years but he loves people, to spend time, help, and listen to them like his mom did, he was just really awkward due to not being treated the best by the other kids and teenager stuff

He had trouble making friends his age, he was too much of a goody-two-shoes haha he would definitely be that kid to snitch on other kids' secret cursing clubs. And, he didnt have a single friend his age outside of his family up until his trainee years.

His health issues prevented him from playing with other children outside their family. Plus, They often picked on him for his pudgy weight and silly imagination and dreams, and that kinda of stuck with him a lot and was the source of his many insecurities under his dimpled smile.

But He was a sweet boy so the grandma and other moms loved him for being the boy next door who always helped. Their Bakery was small and the only one in their town, so Marco knew almost everybody there.

I kinda wanted to have a cute reason as to why he wanted to be a MP…

As a child he was always interested in stories and playing as a dutiful knight protecting the king or some princess, he loved to play those stories with his siblings especially. And that made him set his sights on wanting to join the MP’s to serve the true king instead of make-believe.

Even if it wasn't specific, he always wanted To dedicate himself to a bigger purpose. To be responsible, maintain peace and order, all that jazz. He knew he wasn't that special or outstanding in life on his own, but if he could serve someone or be some helpful cog in the machine, make someone happy like he does with his family - that was enough.

Authors Note, I decided he had a pretty normal childhood because the whole abusive family with dead people then someone turns out to be perfectly fine is done to oblivion even if it is inspiring, and I’ve seen this done so many times with people’s headcanons for Marco. I don't want to traumatize him…yet. I like the idea of Marco being a preety normal boy, and most of his isues like his naivety and sometimes insecurity still stem from him being sheltered and bullied as a weird naive kid.

Marco’s Enlistment

His dreams would always stay even when he was reaching to be a young man. He felt there was honor in making bread and feeding people by making them happy. But he felt like he was made for more than that and to do great things for the world.

The fall of Wall Maria hit hard on everybody, nobody was doing well and drought hit badly in the following 2 years crops from overfarming for the refugee’s rations. The Bodt’s had to keep selling most of their livestock, some of the chickens to make eggs, some cows and goats they had to make milk, and their old horse. To make things worse, Manuel got sick often due to overworking making Marco to be the one to plow the fields at most times but even his weak body wasn't enough.

The Bodt’s could barely feed their already big family after that and they had to go to desperate measures so Marco thought of something. As soon as the year’s training batch was over and there was an opening, he went to enlist secretly. Everybody was doing it and most of the boys who messed with him went there as well to make a name for themselves.

He felt lonely and selfish for the decision but If it meant having one less mouth to feed for his loved ones it was worth it. Plus, he wanted to make the dreams he had since he was a child a reality.

His mother was disappointed in him for his decision a week before he would go, and she pestered him a lot for it, and begged him to stay. Most of his family and siblings didnt want him to go as well. Nobody said it especially, his family His parents and siblings but they all thought he was naive at best, and most of the ther townfolk given that he was weakling making a fool of himself and he would quit months later.

His mother was usually optimistic and believed in him, but given the diire situation they were in, she felt out of hope and just wanted to let whats left of her family to stick by. Even if they were poor, things could only work would get through together she thought.

And he was still her little boy all this time, she was protective that he wouldnt come back the same and be hurt in such a big cruel world compared to their warm little town.

But Marco with a heavy heart, disobeyed her for the first time in his life. He promised to visit and write to the family as much as possible. The next few days were somber and Miriam couldnt help but stop crying silently, the siblings were less chatty and rowdy, they tried to keep things normal without addressing the elephant in the room but Marco tried to comfort them.

The day then, He said his farewell to his father, and all his siblings huddled up near him as he was about to go out. Just before he would go out of their fence, his mother told him something, “Not everybody will want what you give to this world like we do, my sun…When you find someone who loves you as much as we do, keep them and don’t let go” She reminded him, not wanting him to be alone. Marco smiled and hugged her tight, getting teary-eyed but promising he would and he’d come back safe…

#marco bott #marco bodt #aot fanart #aot oc #snk oc #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #headcanons #family #family tree #bodt family #bott family

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pbandjesse · 1 year

Text

I am very tired today. Which has me feeling a little lightheaded. But it was still a nice day.

I need to not be so hard on myself. I was just reviewing the day before I wrote everything down and was like. Oh you didn't do much, you didn't accomplish much. But that's not true!! I had a good day.

I did end up taking one muscle relaxer last night and it helped me sleep which was nice but I still woke up groggy. At least I didn't have to drive.

I got dressed and felt a little weird in this dress. I think it's the flouncy bottom hem. But I still felt cute. James kept telling me I was cute. And we loaded up the car and left.

We misordered at McDonald's but James got it fixed. And then helped me set up at the market. I was still feeling groggy and a little weird. But I was enjoying talking to Anne and working on some frogs. I got a few done today and that felt nice.

I also wished Stanley a happy birthday. He's going to Atlantic City with his wife and kids tonight for a few days. I hope they have fun and he wins a lot of money. I told him about when my dad left my mom at the beach for gambling quarters and how I can't be trusted to gamble because I have a terrible addictive personality. Made him laugh really hard.

We got baked goods from Ginny. It's the last week for summer flavors! I'm excited for her fall flavors, her stuff really shines that time of year.

I had a good time at the market. I was productive finishing frogs. I got like 5 or 6 done. Even sold one a few minutes after putting it on the table and got lots of compliments and faces (like the sad oh my goodness so cute faces) and it was encouraging. I would sell 3 plushies and 2 stickers packs plus a few stand alone stickers. It was a really good day.

I made a TikTok with my bears. It was the Taylor swift trend where you pick up a pet or an animal or baby and spin them around. So I did that and Ann was like. Jesse that looked so weird you know that right and I'm like Ann I have not one day care what people think about me. And she laughed and said the videos as very cute.

I had some excellent conversations and maybe made some market friends. One with a lovely couple who got a bunch of my stuff and we talked about arthritis and making and how we adapt things so it doesn't hurt so much. I hope they come back cause they were lovely. Someone requested I try to make a pig. So I'm going to attempt that tomorrow I think. Just to see what happens. it's really just going to be changing proportions I think.

One of the funnier parts of the day was when Rod, the bread guy, got terrified by a customer when he wasnt looking and she came up behind him. He legit screamed. It was very funny.

And then a whole bunch of little kids swarmed me. I'm talking like 7 kids! I had then all trying to loom knit. And we got a half a square done through teamwork. These were all 5 years old and you get except for two older brothers who mostly just watched and talked to me. The 2 year old, Luka, did not have the dexterity for it so I held his hand so he could get it. He was all snotty as 2 year olds tend to me and I would ask nicely for the pick tool and would say thank you when he gave it back, we had a good thing going.

The boys kept taking the yarn and unraveling it though which was only mildly annoying but their mom collected it and apologized. I mostly just didn't want them to wrap it around their necks, which they kept doing. I just kept saying "oh no thank you friends." And then redirecting giving them turns doing the loom. Stanley laughed at me with all the kids crawling all over me and my chair and I was like. Stanley I have opened a kindergarten.

Eventually the mom's would take their kids away a few at a time. Until only Mia and her brother were there. She showed her grandma and grandma said she has a loom too so maybe she can do it at home. I love to share especially when it encourages people to make things on their own!!

I was excited to go home though. It got really hot out all of a sudden, even under the pavilion. I would pack up pretty quick. I was already feeling a little woozy. I went inside and said goodbye to James. Chatted with Sarah, it was very nice to see her. And then when I started yawning James told me to go home.

Thankfully there wasn't a ton of traffic. Pratt street, a major through road, was closed for a concert tonight. So I was prepared for bad traffic but I lucked up. And was home before 130.

I parallel parked really well!! Very proud. And then brought everything upstairs. I hugged Sweetp for a bit. And put things away. I accidently squished the peanut butter pie. But it will still taste good.

After everything was put away where it needed to go I would take a quick shower and change. I trimmed my bangs. And laid down.

I would put on the AC and a video and fell asleep pretty fast. And I had intense dreams again. Nothing surprising. Was married to a colonial general in a space/time travel loop on an alien planet. We had three alien babies and were hiding from the government on a desert island/ abandoned nifty fifties.

I woke up woozy still. I went to make a sandwich and then James was home!! I was happy to see them.

They played video games. And I watched videos. And we had a chill evening. I would play with sweetp. And James would go for a bike ride and bring us home burger king. Which I ate in the bathtub. Nothing like a milkshake and fries in a bubble bath.

Now we are in bed. Half watching tiktoks. Half just talking. Resting. I am excited to go back to sleep. I hope it comes easy tonight.

I hope you all have a good night and take care of yourselves. Until next time!

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bowandcurtsey · 3 years

Note

All your Black Clover headcanons are amazing, but I have to admit that the fluffy ones are my favourites. How about our dear BC boys reacting to their s/o being pregnant? I just imagine that it would be sweet and maybe funny. Thank you for all the love you give Black Clover.

This request is just... (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*)(*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*)(*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*)

Here’s Yami’s s/o when she’s preggy it’s a drabble hehe along with the bulls! It was my first official ask from Klaudia ✧w✧

Nozel | Fuegoleon | William

Nozel Silva

This royal absolutely loved cuddling with you on the couch at the end of the day. You’d be doing something quiet, knitting or reading etc.

“Love, what do you think of children?” You’d just casually asked him.

“Hmm, they’re noisy.” he didn't even flinch or look at you. He continued laying into the crook of your neck.

"oh." you felt your heart sink. "So you don't- "

"But I would like to have kids with you." it was as though he read your mind. He was looking up at you now, his purple orbs reflecting genuine sincerity.

A blush crept up to your cheeks. "G-good." You smiled at him shyly.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you knew him well enough to know that he was waiting for you to explain yourself.

"I'm 6 weeks pregnant Nozel."

His eyes widen in disbelief, his lips slowly tugged into a smile, his hands automatically went up to your belly.

"Can't wait." he smiled at your belly.

--------------------------------------------

Nozel was nothing but excited throughout your entire pregnancy. And if you thought that he already treated you like you were his queen, now you were treated like the goddess.

You always had servants by your side if he wasn't around.

You had tons of cardigans sewn for you, from different materials for your comfort and so you wouldn't catch a cold.

Your meals were luscious, you barely ate the same thing daily.

When your morning sickness came, your husband made sure you had a servant to attend to your bedside 24/7.

You'll get foot rubs and spas anytime you felt sore.

He made sure you got everything you wanted and felt 10/10 throughout your pregnancy. Because happy mom, happy baby.

He'll put on some classical music every other night so that "baby could relax" as he held you and stroked your body and hair.

He'll come home every day and the first thing he does after kissing you is touching and rubbing your belly, commenting on how big it has grown now.

Fuegoleon Vermillion

You were taking a stroll after your dinner one day when suddenly you felt dizzy spells. You stopped in the middle of the walk and gripped your husband's hands tightly.

"Darling, are you alright??" His voice emitted worry as you begun to see white and cold sweat trickled down your back, your legs felt wobbly and your knees felt like giving way.

Fue caught hold of you as you turned over to throw up in the nearby bushes. Needless to say he carried you and took you straight the to doctor's straightaway.

"Congrats Captain Fuegoleon and Mrs Vermillion, you are expecting!" The doctor announced cheerily

"Ex-expecting?!" Your husband almost shouted in the hallway

"Yes, " The doctor nodded with a smile on his face, "she's about 10 week in"

He carries you home bridal style because "it's a long journey, we don't want to tire you and the baby out"

----------------------------------------------

Always extra extra careful. "Bring an extra jacket just in case Honey,"

"Fue, I'm already in long sleeves and a cardigan, AND we're heading outdoors in the afternoon"

Holds your hand all the time and gives your hand a little squeeze whenever he looks at your baby bump.

Follows you to all gynae appointments to see the baby. He's the overly excited dad that squeals at the screen. "There he/she is!!"

If he's busy with his duties and cannot accompany you, he gets Randall to accompany you.

Once, Mereo had to accompany you (fue would not stop nagging her and pleading her to accompany you because most of the Crimson Lion would be out for a mission. ) and when Mereo saw the little baby on the screen she was absolutely amazed and overwhelmed. "ohhh my little niece / nephew" The siblings then talk about the baby all the time

When you have emotional mood swings, this patient man would absolutely just give in to you no matter how absurd your requests were. If you wanted to have cereal and coffee then you're getting what you want, but he'll try to swap it out for decaff coffee.

If you threw a tantrum Fue would just take it like your personal punching bag until you let out your frustrations because your husband is just the best.

When the baby kicks you and you feel pain, he's frown at your belly and rub your tummy for you, disciplining your child. "Don't kick mummy, I'll make sure you learn your manners when you're out."

William Vangeance

William finally comes home from a long mission with the golden dawn one evening. You run into his arms as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

"Missed you Honey!" you cried out and pressed a kiss on his lips.

"Missed you more Sugar," he beamed at you, his face gentle as ever and pulls you into a long and deep kiss.

He arms snakes around your waist as he lifted you up, pulling your legs around him.

Oh did you miss your husband and his touch so much. Your hands ran through his soft hair, gently tugging them at the ends. He brought the two of you into your shared room.

You pulled away from the kiss, the two of you slightly out of breath. "Not tonight maybe," your lips pursed into a straight line, "I have something to tell you."

"What is it love?" William was a little worried, did he do something wrong?

You caught on to his emotions from the look of panic in his eyes and you giggled at your overly anxious husband, "I'm pregnant baby."

He eyes widen and his lips slightly parted into a silent "oh" His grip on you tightened, and he slowly walked to the bed, gently settling you down, muttering the words "careful careful" to himself.

He kissed the top of your forehead, "I'm so sorry I wasn't around for so long sugar.. I'm a bad husband aren't I?" he frowned to himself a little. "Am I going to be a good dad? What if my curse passes on to him?"

"Oh baby..." You pulled him into a kiss, "you're going to be an amazing dad. It is what it is love, I'm loving this kid, cursed or not."

--------------------------------------------------

The next day William announced your pregnancy to the Golden Dawn and they were all elated. Just like the bulls, they were all very careful around you as well and offering to help you do everything.

They all wanted to go into the doctor's room to see the ultrasound of your baby, the room couldn't hold all of them though. They had to take turns.

William massaged your sore body every night and prepared warm baths for you whenever the nights were chilly.

He always walked with you in the evenings and on some days when you were not too worn out, he'll fly you around in the night sky.

He'd talk to your baby bump everyday and sometimes read some poems to the baby.

He'll buy a lot of baby and parenting books and you both decorated your nursery together, painting it together, choosing furnitures together.

Every single night, he'll hold you in his arms, press a kiss to your temple and tell you how amazing you are for holding up well in your pregnancy, how great a mother you'll be and how blessed he is to have you.

#black clover #black clover scenarios #black clover imagine #black clover fanfiction #black clover x reader #black clover headcanons #william vangeance #william vangeance x reader #nozel silva #nozel x reader #nozel silva x reader #fuegoleon vermillion #fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader

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curlynerd · 3 years

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Happy Birthday, Cas! Word Count: 3K Rating: T Summary: Appalled that Cas has never had a birthday party before, Jack drags Dean into his schemes to plan a surprise party for him. Dean finally works up the courage to tell Cas how he feels. Notes: love confessions, first kiss, lots of fluff, and lots of Cas' family showing up much they care

Also read on AO3!

"You've never celebrated Cas' birthday?!" Jack exclaimed by way of greeting at -- Dean groaned and rolled over to check the time. -- 6:47 in the morning.

"Jack..." Dean sighed, dragging his hand down his face and sitting up in bed. "We've been over this. You promised not to come barging in here until at least 8:30."

"Huh?" Jack titled his head at Dean before his gaze trailed over to the bedside clock. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot to check the time."

"All those God powers and you can't even conjure up a watch?" Dean grumbled as he threw the sheets off his legs and planted his feet on the floor. "Now what were you saying about Cas?"

"His birthday!" Jack's expression was too damn excitable for this early in the morning. "I was telling him about how we celebrated my birthday after Mrs. Butters left, and I asked him about his birthday, and he said he'd never celebrated one before!"

Dean frowned at Jack. This was what he was woken up for? "Kid, I don't think he has one. The dude's older than calendars."

Jack was undaunted. "Yeah, but he was born, right? Even angels are born."

Okay, it was way too early for existential questions. He needed coffee. Dean grunted his acknowledgment and dragged himself to his feet. "Did Cas say when his birthday was?"

"Well, no." Jack furrowed his brow for just a second before his face lit up in enthusiasm. "Why don't we celebrate today?"

Dean stared at Jack. Jack's eyes were wide and sincere and full of love, just like his dad's. And, apparently, just as effective. "Alright..." Dean said with a defeated sigh. Who was he to deny the kid a chance to make his dad happy? "Whacha wanna do for his birthday?"

Jack beamed. "A surprise party! With cake!"

"Yeah, I figured as much." Dean scrubbed at his hair and wiped the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he shuffled his feet into his slippers. "Coffee first, though. Then the store."

"What kind of cake should we make?" Jack asked an hour later, as he and Dean pondered every box mix the grocery store had to offer.

“Hmm…” Dean eyeballed the box of funfetti mix. Jack would probably like that one best. It had sprinkles baked in. Dean kind of wanted a classic chocolate cake. And Cas, well. He wouldn’t care. He’d probably take two bites at most, just to appease Jack.

“This one.” Dean’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he reached for a box and held it out for Jack.

“Angel food cake?” Jack read.

Dean nodded, his grin widening at his little joke. “Yeah! It’s special. Angels love it, ya know.”

Jack tilted his head at Dean, then the box, before a smile bloomed across his face. “You gave me angel food cake once. I really liked it! Is that why you got it for me?”

Dean thought back to that drive, and his little snack cakes morality test. “Yup. That was definitely why.” He snatched the box from Jack’s hand and tossed it into the cart before he could ask more questions. “Let’s wrap this up before Cas wonders why we’ve been gone so long.”

If Cas was ignorant of Jack’s birthday plans before, he wasn’t for long. Neither Dean nor Jack thought to do much to conceal the contents of their shopping bags when they returned home. Or figure out a way to keep Cas from wandering the bunker. So when he stumbled upon the two of them hauling bags toward the kitchen, both Dean and Jack traded suspicious glances.

“Dean and I will be in the kitchen for awhile,” Jack said seriously, cutting straight to the chase. “Do not come in there though!”

“Oh?” Cas’ gaze flickered down to their bags. A package of birthday hats stuck out of the opening of one. A canister of rainbow sprinkles was nestled at the top of another. His mouth twitched as his eyes softened with warmth. When they met Dean’s eyes, Dean’s stomach did a flip. Cas’ eyes grew even warmer.

‘He loves you,’ Dean’s thoughts helpfully supplied at the worst possible moment, ensuring Dean’s face burned with a fierce blush right as Cas looked his most adoring. Dean hastily averted his gaze.

Cas hadn’t been back from the Empty for long, only a couple of weeks really. But it felt like an eternity.

Because Dean hadn’t told him yet. He hadn’t looked him in the eyes and said ‘I love you too.’ Hadn’t dragged him in by the lapels of his stupid trenchcoat and kissed him senseless. Hadn’t held him close and promised him that he could have Dean, all of him, for as long as he wanted to keep him.

The moment had never been right. There were always people around. Jack. Sam. So many of their friends, eager to see them and celebrate their victory over Chuck and their newfound freedom. Things were only now starting to quiet down, and still Dean hadn’t worked up the courage to tell him.

“It’s for a surprise,” Jack continued, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Er, not a surprise! We’re not planning any surprises!” Dean barely controlled his eyeroll. The kid really needed to work on his lying. “It’s something you can’t know about until later. So don’t even think about peeking!”

Cas and Dean traded knowing looks. Dean shrugged a little. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cas assured Jack.

Jack brightened. “Great! Come on, Dean. Let’s go!” He practically skipped toward the kitchen, radiating enthusiasm with every step. Dean sighed and followed after him, already anticipating the huge mess at the end of all this. At least it was just box mix. That was easy enough to handle.

As it turned out, even box mix wasn’t foolproof.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Jack asked in concern. He poked at the misshapen mess of their cake.

“Probably not.” Dean shrugged. It was a disaster zone, is what it was. Apparently angel food cake required a special pan. It looked similar enough to a bundt pan, though, so Dean thought it was an okay substitute. Clearly not. Or maybe they overmixed it? Was that why it sunk into this lumpy, craggy mess and then fell apart when they tried to shake it out of the pan?

“But ya know, homemade cake never looks as fancy as the stuff you get at the store, but it tastes just as good.” He slapped Jack on the back. “Put some frosting on this thing, maybe some decorations, and we’re golden.”

And so they set to work. Jack clearly had a vision of what he wanted, pulling supplies from the pantry to add to the disaster cake. He insisted on covering it in a thick layer of chocolate frosting, even though Dean tried to tell him angel food cake didn’t usually need it. It was vital to what he was creating. A full hour passed, and somehow the thing looked even worse than when it first flopped out of the pan.

“Cas is gonna love it,” Dean said anyway, because he knew it was true. Jack beamed with pride.

“At what point am I no longer banned from the kitchen?” Almost as if on cue, Cas’ voice called out from down the hallway. “Am I allowed to walk past it? I’d like to go into the library.”

“You can come in!” Jack yelled back, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

Dean looked around at the decoration-less kitchen, the party hats and the balloons still in their packaging. “Wait, hold on--” he began, but it was too late.

“SURPRISE!” Jack shouted as Cas rounded the corner. “Happy birthday, Cas!”

“A surprise for me?” Cas didn’t even seem to notice that the only things in the kitchen were a weird brown blob of cake and a massive mess. He was smiling from ear to ear at Jack with that special, endeared smile parents reserved just for their children. “But I told you I didn’t have a birthday,” Cas said. Which he and Jack had talked about literally hours ago. Before Jack raced off to talk with Dean and plan an impromptu trip to the store before baking all morning.

Yeah. Cas definitely knew what Jack was planning today.

“Well, Jack decided today was your birthday. So, happy birthday.” Dean shrugged a little in a ‘Kids. What can ya do?’ sort of way.

Cas’ expression softened. “Today is a perfect day for a birthday.”

“We made a cake!” Jack bounded over to Cas and practically dragged him to the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

“It is…” Cas frowned and knit his eyebrows together at the monstrosity before him. “An inside-out hedgehog?”

“It’s a Sarlacc Pit!” Jack exclaimed while Dean clutched at the table, doubled-over with laughter. Jack pointed out the pretzel rods jutting out around the misshapen, lumpy hole in the center of the sunken cake. They’d done their best to make the chocolate frosting around it look like smooth sand, but of course it was way too brown. And bits of warm cake kept breaking off while they iced it. “That’s its teeth, and that’s the sand. It’s a Star Wars cake!”

“Oh, of course it is!” Cas said generously. He patted Jack’s shoulder. “It’s wonderful, Jack. And Dean.” He nodded at Dean, who was still trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah we’ve got ourselves the next Cake Boss over here. If the God thing doesn’t work out.” Dean’s voice rippled with laughter. He snatched up the bag of party hats and ripped it open. Cas looked exceedingly tolerant as Dean snapped one on his head with an impish grin. “So birthday boy, whacha wanna do on your special day?”

“Oh I know!” Jack exclaimed. His enthusiasm was infectious. “First we’ve gotta…”

The day wound up being more about Jack than Cas. Or rather, Jack doing all the things he loved to do with Cas. There was a Star Wars movie marathon. There was cake. There were more board games than Dean had played in a lifetime. Dean had a sneaking suspicion Cas let Jack win most of them.

But Cas had smiled almost non-stop the entire day, probably more than Dean had seen the entire thirteen years since he’d met him. And yeah, Dean knew why. What was better to do on his birthday than spend time with his kid?

By the end of the day, even Cas was looking a little tired. Dean was absolutely exhausted. He was half-tempted to drag himself to bed early, but when Jack finally retired to his own room to give Dean and Cas some time together, there wasn’t any hesitation about settling down in his favorite armchair, Cas beside him, with two glasses of Dean’s favorite whiskey to share.

The drink was warming through his limbs, but the light in Cas’ eyes was warmer. He looked content, if not a little overwhelmed by all the love his little family had shown him today. Dean leaned back in his chair and let the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.

“You know, it’s serendipitous Jack chose today for my birthday.” Cas smiled down at his glass.

Dean cracked a sleepy eye open. “Yeah? Why?”

“Well, today is the anniversary of the day I raised you from perdition.”

Dean stared at Cas. Cas eyes twinkled with nostalgia. “Really?” Cas nodded, and Dean laughed. “Well then I suppose it’s really my re-birthday.”

Cas chuckled. “I’ll remind Jack to bake two cakes next year.” They fell into easy silence, nursing their drinks as they reflected on the years.

“It really is a good birth date,” Cas said awhile later. “I may have been alive for eons before then, but the day I met you was when I changed...That was when I really started living.”

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat, Cas’ love confession ringing in his ears. “Didn’t I stab you?” he joked weakly, deflecting the spiraling nerves that bubbled up in his chest.

Cas laughed. “Yes. Yes, you did. I didn’t realize it at the time, but even then you were making me feel. Mostly confusion,” he added with a wry twist of his lips. “I saved you from eternal damnation, and you repaid me by stabbing me in the chest!” Despite his amusement, Cas’ eyes were overflowing with warmth and affection. Dean could almost read the thoughts going on behind them. ‘I fell a little bit in love with you right then.’

“What can I say? I have that effect on people.” ‘Now,’ his thoughts urged. ‘Tell him now!’ “I dunno what I’d have done without you,” Dean mused around a sip of whiskey. A little more liquid courage. A little more and he could do this.

“Another angel would have been sent. You would have been pulled from Hell anyway.”

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “All of it. All the crap we’ve been through. All the crap Chuck put us through. Put me through.” He watched the way the warm lamplight reflected off his drink. “I...I’m glad I had a best friend through it all. You know?”

“Yes,” Cas said, but there was a twinge of sadness in his voice that made Dean look up. He was smiling softly, but the longing in his eyes was impossible to miss.

Dean sighed. His gut churned with fear and guilt and yearning. He knew Cas loved him. And he knew he loved Cas. Hell, he’d known that for a helluva lot longer than he’d known of Cas’ feelings. He just needed one little push to make him confront those feelings head-on.

“Ya know, I think I have one more present for you.” Dean set his glass down with heavy meaning. He nodded to himself and stood up, his jaw set firm, his eyes determined.

“You do?” Cas started to ask. “What--” And before he could finish his sentence, Dean crawled into the chair with him, his knees straddling Cas’ hips, bracing himself against the backrest with one hand. Cas’ eyes went huge. “Dean?” His voice trembled.

Dean was pretty sure he looked even more nervous, but he’d be damned if he owned up to it. “Hey birthday boy,” he hummed, forcing a flirtatious smile despite the anxiety pounding in his chest. He was going to kiss Cas. God how he wanted to kiss Cas.

But instead of looking delighted Cas looked...hurt. “Dean, you don’t have to do this for me.”

Dean’s heart went cold. “For you? You don’t think I want this?”

“No,” Cas said simply. Honestly. His bright blue eyes were so close now, but the heartache in them was almost painful to look at.

Dean swallowed thickly. “Well then you’re dumber than you look,” he teased, forcing bravado he did not feel. Dean leaned in until his forehead rested against Cas’. He could feel Cas’ warm breath across his lips. “Cas, if I could pick anyone in the whole damn world to be with, it’d be my best friend. You know that, right?” Cas licked his lips. Dean yearned to tilt his head down and catch them with his own. “But I thought you didn’t...Couldn’t...Well, I thought love wasn’t something angels did.”

“But I told you, Dean. When the Empty came, I told you--”

“Yeah I know. But you know how I drag my ass for important stuff.” That finally elicited a tiny puff of laughter from Cas. Dean smiled. “Come on, man. Cut me some slack. Lemme use this as an excuse to nut up and kiss you.”

As it turned out, Dean didn’t need to, because Cas surged up and pressed their lips together.

Dean gasped into the kiss as his hand resettled itself on Cas’ shoulder. Cas’ glass clattered as he hastily set it on the table in order to hold Dean’s waist with both hands. Cas kissed like he was starving for it, voracious and desperate, licking his way into Dean’s mouth without preamble and moaning deeply into the heat he found there.

Dean gave as good as he got, letting over a decade of longing finally escape through the hot, greedy press of their lips together, through the long trailing kisses along Cas’ jaw while Cas dragged his hands down Dean’s back and up underneath his shirt.

“We should...do this in my room…” Dean whispered in Cas’ ear as his teeth nipped at the sensitive area. Cas nodded and, without warning, stood up with Dean still wrapped around him. Dean startled and reflexively jerked his feet down toward the floor, though he realized with delight that Cas could almost certainly carry him the entire way if he wanted. Later. He’d test that out later. For now Dean grabbed Cas by the tie with a lecherous twinkle in his eye and hauled him in the direction of his bedroom. Soon to be their bedroom, if Dean had anything to say about it.

Much, much later, when they were tangled together beneath the sheets with Dean’s head nestled on Cas’ chest, Dean realized that Cas had been wrong. Because his happiest moment wasn’t when the Empty took him away. It wasn’t in just saying how he felt.

Because it was in loving, yes, but it was also in being loved.

Because when Dean peeked up at Cas’ face, he was radiating so much happiness Dean’s heart ached from it. Today was the happiest he’d ever been. And perhaps tomorrow, if Dean had anything to say about it, tomorrow he’d be even happier.

Cas’ eyes were full of love as he carded his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I know I don’t have any others to compare this against, but today was a very good birthday.”

“Good.” Dean pressed a sleepy kiss to Cas’ skin as his eyes drifted closed. “You deserve it.”

#destiel #deancas #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #supernatural #castiel #happy birthday cas #dadstiel #spn #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #jack kline #dean winchester #katie writes things

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todaysdocument · 3 years

Photo

Letter from Lutiant Van Wert to her friend Louise about her work as a nurse during the Influenza epidemic, and about the rest of her life (pp. 1, 4, 6, 7), 10/17/1918

“So everybody has the "Flu" at Haskell?”

File Unit: Contagious Epidemics, 1904 - 1941

Series: Subject Correspondence Files, 1904 - 1941

Record Group 75: Records of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, 1793 - 1999

Transcription:

(Copy)

231-14th St. South East.

October 17, 1918.

Dear friend Louise:

So everybody has the "Flu" at Haskell? I wish to goodness Miss Keck and Mrs. McK. would get it and die with it. Really, it would be such a good riddance, and not much lost either! As many as 90 people die everyday here with the "Flu". Soldiers too, are dying by the dozens. So far, Felicity, C. Zane, and I are the only ones of the Indian girls who have not had it. We certainly consider ourselves lucky too, believe me. Katherine [first e was struck through] and I just returned last Sunday evening from Camp Humphreys "Somewher in Virginia" where we volunteered to help nurse soldiers sick with the Influenza. We were there at the Camp ten days among some of the very worse cases and yet we did not contract it. We had intended staying much longer that we did, but the work was entirely too hard for us, and anyway the soldiers were all getting better, so we came home to rest up a bit. We were day nurses and stationed in the Officer's barracks for six days and then transferred to the Private's barracks or hospital and were there four days before we came back. All nurses were required to work twelve hours a day--we worked from seven in the morning until seven at night, with only a short time for luncheon and dinner.

[page 2]

-4-

I was so tired I never took special notice, but I thought I had my own bag. When I opened it to get out my comb and powder--behold! There was a kit-bag fully equiped and a knitted sweater in it, plus a few other trinkets'. I knew then, whose aag I had, so checked my suit case and started out to look for this soldier and exchange bags, as I thought he had mine. After walking around 45 minutes I began to despair of ever finding him and started back to the Ladies room and I came upon him sitting in one corner. I recognized my bag right away and went to exchange. He was simply so tickled to get his bag back he almost squeezed the life out of my hand when he shook it. I had my card and destination tacked on the handle fo my bag, so he found out where I was going without telling him--and as fate would have it--he was going to D. C. too, so we traveled the rest of the way together. He is a perfect gentlemen, and sure treated me nice on the way. Since I am located here, he has been down to our house twice to see me since I came back from Camp Humphreys, and he sure wants me to come down to Potomac Park as a nurse. He is not what one would call "handsome" but he is certainly [underlined] good-looking [/underlined], and on top of all that--he is a CATHOLIC. Sure like it for myself too. All the girls have soldiers--Indian girls also. Some of the girls have soldiers and sailors too. The boys are particularly crazy about the Indian girls. They tell us that the Indian girls are not so "easy" as the white girls, so I guess maybe that's their reason.

[page 3]

-6-

A lot of the girls from the Office here go out to sell bonds but some of them dont make much of a success. One of the Indian girls, named Cathryne Welch, went out last week to sell bonds and she sold so many that she got escused from the Office for the rest of this week to do nothing but sell bonds. She is a very pretty girl--a high school graduate and one year normal. She has two brothers in the army--one is a Captain and the other a Sargeant. Maybe you remember seeing Capt. Gus Welch's picture in the K. C. Star--well that is her brother and he "over there" now.

All the schools, churches, theaters, dancing halls, etc. are closed here also. There is a bill in the Senate today authorizing all the war-workers to be released from work for the duration of this epidemic. It has not passed the house yet, but I can't help but hope it does. If it does, Lutiant can find plenty of things at home to busy herself with, or she might accidentally take a trip to Potomac Park. Ha! Ha!

It is perfectly alright about the sweater. I dont expect you to be able to get it while you are quartined, but will still be glad to have it if you can send it as soon as you are out of quartined. It is rather cold in Washington, but not cold enough to wear winter coats yet, and my suit coat is a little too thin, so I figured out that a sweater would be the thing to have. Sometimes it is cold enough to wear a wrap while working, but of course it is out of questio[n]

[page 4]

-7-

to work in a heavy winter coat. However, send it whenever you find it convenient to do so, and I will settle with you as promptly as possible.

Well Louise, if you are not dead tired of reading this letter, I'll write another like it some other time. There is still a lot I could tell you about D. C., but it's nearing lunch time and I want to be right ther on the dot, as I always am--to be sure.

Write again whenever you fine it convenient to do so--always glad to hear the Haskell news from you.

Sincerely your friend,

(Signed) Lutiant.

Address same as before.

#archivesgov #October 17 #1918 #1910s #Influenza #Spanish Flu #epidemic #nurse #Haskell Institute #Haskell Indian Nations University #meet-cute #quarantine #Native American history #American Indian history #Indigenous American history

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

Text

I Wish It Was Me [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 2179

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: She loves Fred, he loves someone else... right?

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: Very angsty, very fluffy. Based on the song “Heather” by Conan Gray! Requested - enjoy, nonnie!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

You’d loved Fred a long time. Ever since that first passing greeting on the Hogwarts Express at the tender age of 11 before you even knew what love really was. He was full of life, energetic, funny, reckless. He was like a firework, bright and cheerful, always up for a laugh and causing mischief. Rough around the edges, sure, and sometimes a tad insensitive but somehow it made you love him more.

He had no idea - at least, you didn’t think he did. There were times, fleeting moments, where you were convinced maybe he did, and maybe he felt the same way, but then he’d flirt with some Hufflepuff 6th year or Ravenclaw 5th year and reality would hit you. He was one of your best friends.

You tried your best to push your feelings down, to try and get over him, but every time you thought you’d gotten a handle on yourself, he’d shoot a smirk your way or run a hand through his messy ginger hair or throw an arm around your shoulder or, worse, just throw a flirty, cocky remark at you and suddenly you’d be back to square one.

You suppose you couldn’t blame anyone else for falling for him. It was so easy for you after all, as easy as breathing. You didn’t have to think about it, it just happened and one day you realised his smile could put you into a good mood, his laugh could make your whole week.

Didn’t mean it was easy watching someone else fall for him though. You noticed right away when she started having feelings for him. She’d stutter, suddenly sit up straighter when he was around, smile more. At first it didn’t bother you - Fred always sat beside you, always involved you in conversations. Sometimes you’d notice him staring at you. He’d even give you his sweater to wear - it was warm and soft and smelled like him. “Looks better on you than me,” he would say, grinning at the way the sleeves would end long past the tips of your fingers and the bottom of the sweater would reach your mid-thigh.

Then suddenly it stopped. He stopped sitting beside you, stopped talking to you as much, stopped staring and stopped giving you his sweaters. Because suddenly, he fell for her. He had asked her to the Yule Ball, when you (and George, for that matter) were sure he was going to ask you (George asked you to go as friends instead and you had to ignore the sight of Fred and Angelina dancing all night). And it was her he was sitting beside, her he was speaking to, her he was staring at and her who was wearing his sweaters. That first time you saw her sat in his knitted jumper - the one with the large ‘F’ on the front - you swore you felt all the air leave your lungs.

It hurt.

It hurt like nothing you’d experienced before. You’d say hello to him in the hallways and receive nothing but a friendly nod before his attention was back on her. You’d try to speak to him at meals, but his focus was on her. You’d sit beside him, but go unnoticed.

You couldn’t blame him. Angelina Johnson was beautiful. She was gorgeous, smart, funny, effortlessly cool. Everything you wished you were but afraid you’d never be.

Everything you tried to be.

But you were tired of trying. Or trying to be okay. Of trying to even be his friend at this point - it hurt too much to watch them together. The way his eyes lit up as he looked at her, the way he smiled at her. You’d witnessed them kissing too many times than you wanted to admit, your heart aching as you wished it was you.

It felt like he was disappearing from you. And you knew George felt the same. Whilst they still spent time together, it was nowhere near as often as before, and you knew it was getting to George.

The more time Fred spent with Angelina, the more you spent with George. Something you were often reminded of was how smart the twins truly were and it took less than a week for George to realise you had feelings for his brother.

You denied them when he asked, but then he just looked so much like his brother yet was so different - that much kinder, that much more sensitive - that you couldn’t help but spill your secret. That you’d loved Fred for 6 years. Telling George made you feel simultaneously better and worse. Better because now you had someone to confide in and to help you through it but worse because admitting your feelings made them so much more real. And that was scary.

You saw Fred less and less, partly due to his new relationship but mostly due to your decision to avoid him. George had tried to discourage you, but he saw how much it was hurting you to see Fred and Angelina and began helping you avoid him instead where possible.

You didn’t think Fred would notice. You noticed his absence greatly of course, but you didn’t think he would be focused on your absence. That was, until one day you were leaving your potions class and you suddenly found yourself pressed between a wall and someone’s chest.

Your heart was beating as you looked up at the culprit, staring into the deep eyes of Fred Weasley.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me, love?”

His voice was low and he was staring down at you with such intensity that you had to look away.

“I’ve not-“

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted you, “You’re worrying me - why have you been avoiding me?”

His warm breath was hitting your face and you couldn’t help but shiver, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of the cold from being in the dungeons or the proximity between you and the boy you loved.

As if he’d just realised how close he was to you - his chest was pressed against yours and his hands resting either side of your head - he stepped back a bit, pushing his ginger hair out of his face as he looked at you expectedly, although a hand was resting on your shoulder as if he half anticipated you running away.

Which now you thought about it, wasn’t such a bad idea.

“I um... I’ve been avoiding a lot of people, not just you. I’m just going through something and-“

“You’re not avoiding George,” he said softly as his hand dropped from your shoulder. A flash of hurt crossed his features but he covered it up quickly.

“He’s been helping me.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to me? Why George?” His hurt tone made you wince - the last thing you ever wanted to do was cause him any pain.

“You’ve been kinda busy with... with Angelina recently I- I didn’t want to bother you,” you pressed your lips into a straight line and looked down - suddenly your shoes were very interesting.

“You could’ve still come to me. I would’ve made time for you. We’re friends - best friends last time I checked. I thought you trusted both me and George. Not just- not just George.”

“I couldn’t... I can’t tell you,” you said helplessly.

“Why?”

“I just can’t!”

“Don’t you trust me?” He whispered, that same hurt look flashing through his eyes.

“I do trust you Fred I just can’t... I didn’t think it was a good idea to come to you with this certain problem I have. You wouldn’t be able to help because even I can’t help it,” you tried to explain.

He looked like he was still fighting the hurt he felt and you sighed. “I’m bloody in love with you and you love Angelina,” you said quietly, “And I thought I could handle it but I can’t. I can’t because it hurts too much. I love you, Fred. And it’s crazy because I’m so young but I know how I feel and that’s it. And-and I know you have Angelina. And that’s fine, it is, but I couldn’t be around you for a while. I didn’t think you’d notice, I didn’t think- I never thought- I-“

“You love me?” He asked, his eyes slightly wider than usual.

“Yes.”

He was silent for a while and you could feel your heart beating faster and faster.

“Fred?” You whispered, “Please... say something.”

“I’m with Angelina. You know that. I like her,” He scratched the back of his neck and stayed silent for a moment and you swallowed, nodding.

Your lips trembled and you fought to keep a tear from falling, “I know... I know. And I could never be her and I wouldn’t want to get in between you both so... that’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I’m happy. I am happy,” he said determinedly, “I’m taken, I can’t-“

“I know Freddie,” you said softly, “I’m sorry. I never meant to tell you, I was trying to get over you. I just... I-I’m gonna go.”

Fred watched helplessly as your figure retreated down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.

“I loved you, Y/n,” he finally admitted to the empty space where you once stood. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the floor, sighing before shaking his head, “I love you.”

***

“Y/n, have you seen Freddie?” George asked as he ran to fall in line with you walking back to your common room.

“Haven’t in a few days, since...” your voice trailed off and George nodded. “I’m assuming you’ve heard him and Angelina broke up?”

You came to an abrupt stop and your head whipped over to look up at the tall younger twin, “What?!”

He shot you a cheeky grin, “Freddie broke up with her- look!” He nodded down the hall at where Angelina was stood extremely closely in front of a 7th year Ravenclaw, whose hand was on her waist, her giggling up at him.

Your jaw dropped, “But-“

“You know, if I were you, I’d go find my less attractive brother. I reckon he might have something to say to you,” George winked dramatically, “He’s on the Quidditch pitch.”

You frowned in confusion, “What? But I thought you were just looking... for him?”

George shrugged, “Maybe I made up a reason to talk about Freddie... and to show you Angelina’s new boy.”

“You cheeky-“

“Go get him,” George cut you off with a gentle nudge towards the direction of the pitch.

With a nod, you made your way outside, before realising rain was falling fast and drenching you to the bone. You pulled your cloak further around you, pushing wet strands of hair out of your face as you rushed over the grass, your eyes falling on a familiar figure.

“Fred, what are you doing?” You called out.

As you headed closer, you saw him look up at you and grin, “What do you think I’m doing, love? Quidditch practice!”

“It’s chucking it down out here!” You exclaimed. He leant on his broom as he watched you walk over to him.

“I heard you broke up with Angelina. Or, well, Georgie told me and I saw her with, you know.”

He nodded, his rain-soaked hair sticking to his cheeks as you came to a stop in front of him.

“Did he tell you why I broke up with her?”

You shook your head.

“Because of this,” and suddenly he’d crashed his lips to yours.

It was a desperate kiss, one that made your toes curl as he dropped his broom to the ground to grip your hips. It was mostly a clashing of teeth to begin with and you hit his nose with your own a couple of times before you both began moving in sync, ignoring how the rain was falling down around you.

He pulled away slightly, staring down at you the way you always dreamed he would - but the reality was better.

He rested his forehead against your own, both of you shivering from the cold yet in no hurry to get back inside. The corner of his lips turnee upwards into a smirk, “It’s you, darling. You’re it for me. Fuck- I love you. I have for years. You never seemed like you felt the same so I assumed you didn’t feel the same. You never said anything so I tried to get over you but... I couldn’t be with Angelina any more when I found out you were an option - the best option. The only option I want.”

As he leant down to kiss you again, standing with you in his arms, your clothes soaked through and your shoes filling with water, you couldn’t help the smile that began to creep onto your face. You’d thought about this moment over and over again, and now... now it was finally happening.

And it was better than you could have ever imagined.

#fred #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #hp #harry potter #all queue have to do is follow the spiders

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fortisfiliae · 4 years

Text

Promised Part 9 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 3.3k

Part 9 - Never trust a Snake

Tom’s dorm was the nicest one you had ever seen in Hogwarts. Single bedrooms were offered to head boys and girls only, as a further reward to their title. His room was the size of a normal five-bedroom, but instead of four additional beds, it was furnished with a welcoming couch, a nice wooden desk and chair, a fireplace and provided overall much more space. It wasn’t located next to the other dorms either, which had its virtues and disadvantages. The good thing was that you didn’t have to walk through the hallway of all the Slytherin boys’ dorms to get there. The bad thing was that Tom’s room was right next to Freda’s, so you had seen her a couple more times than you had wanted to. She had never said anything though and usually stomped off right away, brows knitted and red in the face.

Tom had ordered you to his room the day after Slughorn’s party, which was a privilege not many students were granted. Maybe not that much of a privilege if one was engaged to him. But thinking of it from your perspective, his fiancée, who he hadn’t even proposed to, who he wasn’t even in love with when the engagement took place, it certainly felt special. And like he wanted you to be there. He let you study there even when he had to attend to his duties as head boy, which took up quite a bit of his time.

And then there was the Moly. A magical flower, used to counteract enchantments, that Professor Beery, the Herbology teacher, had given to pairs of students to take care of. They were weakest the last days before blooming and needed tending multiple times a day. It was a tricky task to keep them alive, so Beery had promised to give everyone who could manage it extra points for the Herbology N.E.W.T.s in advance.

Tom had suggested keeping the Moly that had been given to the two of you in his room, as it would increase the chances of keeping it in good condition, seeing that no one else could get their fingers on it. Even though the plant looked quite healthy, he insisted on your help to look after it, as he was not willing to share points if you wouldn’t. So you had come to his room every day, only for the Moly of course.

Other times, when you were just reading or writing another Charm’s essay there, Tom used to stay nearby. He didn’t talk much, as per usual, and rather stared at you from across the room, but the fact that he never told you to leave and always asked when you would come back, for the Moly obviously, made it quite clear that he enjoyed your presence.

And you did too. So much that you had even spent the night accidentally. Accidentally, as in, you had stayed up way too long reading and making notes in your Guide To Advanced Transfiguration textbook, had really, absolutely, doubtlessly planned to go back to your own dorm, but couldn’t be bothered to get up from the sofa until you had finally fallen asleep.

You woke up in Tom’s bed, not remembering how you had ended up there and sat up slowly, looking around, until you noticed him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

“Have I overslept?” you asked, hastily fixing your hair and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“It’s Saturday,” Tom answered, grinning at your attempts of getting up. “8 a.m. You can sleep a bit longer if you want.”

“Oh, Saturday, yes. How did I… What happened last night?”

“You fell asleep on the couch. It didn’t look comfortable, you were all sprawled out and twisted. So I put you into bed.”

You swallowed thickly. He had put you into his bed?

“Did you-”

“No,” Tom shook his head. “I took the couch.”

“Noble,” you said sarcastically, leading him to roll his eyes at you. “Why can’t I remember how I got into bed?”

“I used a Levitation Charm.”

“Oh. Weren’t you afraid I might’ve ended up on the floor?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as if doubting his skills wasn’t a thing Tom Riddle would do. “I tend to know what I’m capable of before I do it.”

“I see,” you answered. “Come here then?”

Tom looked at you questioningly before you reached out your hand, holding it in the air for him to take it. He did and you slowly pulled him closer, until he lay down next to you.

Your hand went up to his face and you ran your fingers through his hair, to which he closed his eyes, letting you play with his locks for a while.

Now that you were fully aware of where you were, you noticed how different Tom’s linen smelled compared to your own. They had his clean, warm scent, of tangy embers dying in the fireplace, mixed with leather and something fresh like dewy iron. The scent had rubbed off on you while you had slept there and it felt like he had marked you, without even coming close.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” you whispered.

His eyes opened again. “You were completely knocked out. That would have felt off.”

“Well, for next time then,” you smiled, took his chin between your fingers and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’re engaged after all. Have you forgotten?”

“Oh piss off,” he scoffed and pulled you in for another kiss.

Some hours later, when you were tending to the Moly, you looked over towards the fireplace, where Nagini was sleeping in front of. At least you assumed she was sleeping. Her eyes were open and her tongue flicked out of her mouth every now and then, but she seemed calm. You laughed to yourself at the sight, as it reminded you of a cat seeking warmth. Well, a pet was a pet, you figured.

“How’s the Moly doing?” Tom asked and went up to inspect it.

“Good. Great actually,” you said. “I think we’re going to earn those extra points from Beery.”

“Don’t you think it looks a bit sickly?” he asked, holding the thin black stem between his fingers.

“No, it’s alright.”

He uttered a humph. “You don’t have the book on you, the one I gave you for Christmas, do you?”

“No, it’s in my dorm. Why would you need that now?”

“Have you read through it? All the way?”

“No, I haven’t yet. I just flicked through it and read some recipes that sounded interesting,” you answered, not knowing what he had in mind. “I wanted to try one of the Potions after we’re done with school. They all seem to take a while.”

“Which one?”

“The Vial of Auras for starters. Why?”

He nodded, still looking at the Moly. “I think there’s a recipe for plant cultivation in there. Could be of use.”

“But it looks fine, why-”

He turned his face toward you, looking into your eyes. “Just bring the book next time.”

“Okay,” you said, although it sounded more like a question. “I can bring it tonight. I’m going out to Hogsmeade with Camille in the afternoon. I’ll be back around 7 I guess.”

“That’ll do,” he said and smiled, finally sounding satisfied.

It was five minutes past seven when you returned to Tom’s room. The date with Camille had been wonderful, although you had had one too many toffees at the sweet shop. You had also gotten the Potions book from your dorm, still wondering why the Moly would need extra support. It looked totally fine to you.

Tom’s room was empty, aside from Nagini, who had curled herself around one of the bedposts. You went over to the desk, where the Moly was standing and put the book beside it. Next to the plant lay a handwritten note:

“Coming back soon - Dippet needs me for head boy duties”

Killing time it was, then. You took Tom’s Charms book from the stack and practised a few spells for a while, trying to revise those that would most likely be tested in the N.E.W.T.s. About ten minutes later, the door opened and Tom entered the room. He dragged his feet as he shuffled in and was slightly out of breath.

“Are you alright?” you asked while putting the Charms book away.

He nodded. You walked over and took a seat on the couch, patting the space next to you for Tom to join you.

“I brought the book,” you said and pointed towards the desk.

Tom sat down, looked at it from afar and squinted. “The book?”

“The Potions book you asked me to bring. Don’t you remember?”

“Ah, yes. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

You frowned, slightly worried. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tom nodded and scratched the side of his face. “Yes, yes. I’m just a bit tired.”

Tired wasn’t exactly what you would have described the state of him. He seemed nervous and completely out of it, his shoulders hanging down limply.

“Did something happen? What did you have to do for Dippet?” you asked.

His eyes roamed the floor while he pondered. “Nothing important. Just some scheduling for the prefects.”

Something cold rubbed against your foot and when you looked down, you saw Nagini, who had slithered over. She placed herself between Tom and you on the floor, her hisses a tad louder than usual.

“What does she want?” you asked.

Tom stared at Nagini vacantly and didn’t answer.

“Tom?”

“Hm?”

“What is she saying?”

“She’s hungry.”

“Hungry? We’ve just fed her recently. Strange,” you said and bent down to pat her head. “I’m going to get you some more mice soon, don’t worry.”

Tom’s gaze roamed the room as if he was looking for something.

“Do you want to take a look at the book now? For the Moly?” you asked.

“No,” he answered. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go ahead then.”

“You remember the day we got engaged, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, it was obviously an arrangement between our families,” he stated, waiting for you to confirm.

“Yes.”

“So I was wondering… What’s in it for you?”

Your stomach dropped. What did he mean ‘what’s in it for you’? Your sister’s curse was the most evident thing in this whole situation.

“You know exactly what’s in it for me,” you said while folding your arms. “Actually, I could ask you the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot why we’re doing this.”

He took a moment to think before answering. “Of course I haven’t. I just thought there could be something else. Like, perhaps your parents bribed my family.”

You blinked irritatedly. He had not just said that.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You’re suggesting my parents took advantage of the situation, went and killed two birds with one stone? So that they could marry me off and make me your problem?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then retracted. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Because I’ll have you know, my family would never do such a thing,” you interrupted him. “I know yours probably would, but my parents are not like that, believe it or not. I thought you knew that by now.”

“I was just wondering. No need to make a fuss about it.”

“You know what?” you said and got up from the couch, making sure not to step on Nagini. “You sound exactly like Ben. Only more rude. And I thought you didn’t trust him. But it seems that you don’t trust me either all of a sudden.”

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Tom said and followed you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“We’re done here,” you huffed, making your way to the door, followed closely by Nagini, until Tom grabbed your hand.

“Don’t leave now,” he said, pulled you in a bit closer and a whiff of cologne wafted your way. He reeked of sweat and coughed so loudly you thought he might throw up any moment.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Tom,” you answered, your hand still in his. “Maybe you have a cold coming on or something because you don’t seem like you’re in your right mind. Now let me go.”

“No,” he said but turned his face away from you.

Suddenly the door flew open and you sucked in a sharp breath when you saw who it was. Tiernan Lestrange. And next to him was... Tom? Standing in the door frame, his eyes darting back and forth between you and… You looked to your left, to the person next to you and saw that Emlyn Avery was standing in Tom’s place, still holding your hand.

You wrenched your hand out of his grip and took several steps backwards.

“Avery?” you asked. “What is going on?”

Tom, the real Tom, still stared at you, a fire burning behind his eyes as he quickly walked into the room. Lestrange followed and closed the door behind himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tom hissed, both at Avery and you.

Avery kept silent, a nasty grin forming on his face.

“He… You,” you stammered.

“You two? Holding hands in my room?” Tom yelled, his chest heaving. “Are you kidding me?”

“I can explain.”

Could you really?

“Well, I hope you can. Taking Avery into my room to do who knows what? Care to explain that?”

“He was you!” you said, only then noticing how crazy you must have sounded.

Tom shot you a look that told you better not to take him for a fool. His thoughts must have raced at top speed inside his head, as you could practically see him thinking. His eyes scurried from your hand to Avery’s, then up to his face. His knuckles had turned white from how hard he clenched his fists and he couldn’t seem to stand still. You wondered what his next move would be. Punch Avery in the nose, curse the two of you, or rush out of the room? It reminded you of the time he had seen Ben and you at the Black Lake.

“Please,” you whispered. “Let me explain.”

Tom sighed and avoided looking at you. He shook his head as if he was fighting an internal battle against himself. It almost looked painful. Finally, he went up to Avery, pointing his wand right below the boy’s chin.

“Sit down,” Tom spat. “You too Lestrange! And I don’t want to hear a single word from either of you.”

They did as he said and Tom led you to the other side of the room, followed by Nagini. He cast a Muffliato Charm on the two boys so that they wouldn’t be able to hear what you had to say.

“Go on,” Tom then said, still avoiding eye contact.

“I came here around seven, as we agreed. I brought the book but you weren’t here. Then I saw your note on the table and waited for you. You, I mean Avery, came in shortly after. But he looked exactly like you. Just until you showed up right now. I swear to Merlin.”

“What do you mean he looked like me?” Tom asked, an annoyed frown on his face.

“He looked and sounded just like you. I thought he was you. He acted weird and I didn’t trust him, but I thought you were just stressed out. The only way I could possibly explain this would be Polyjuice Potion.”

“You don’t really think one of them would be able to brew that correctly, do you?”

“I don’t,” you mumbled. “But how else would it be possible? You have to believe me. I would have never brought him here. Or anyone.”

He looked at you now, so intensely, it felt like he was reading your thoughts, trying to see if you were lying to him.

“Why would he do that?” he then asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered and gave it a good thought. “He asked me about some things. About the engagement. Maybe he was trying to convict me. They haven’t trusted me ever since the school year began, remember?”

Tom nodded and exhaled strongly, walking in circles around you.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

“No. He just held me back when I wanted to leave. Just my hand, nothing else.”

“Are you sure? Don’t lie to me. If he touched you, I swear I’m going to-”

“No. He didn’t.”

Silence. Nagini’s quiet hisses disrupted your thoughts and you noticed that Tom seemed a lot calmer now.

“Why was Lestrange with you?” you asked.

“He came up to me when I was done at Dippet’s. Tried to babble on for ages about assignments.”

“That makes sense. So you wouldn’t disrupt their plan.”

“What did Avery ask you exactly?”

“If my parents had bribed your family. So we would get married.”

“Idiot,” Tom muttered.

“That’s what I thought too.”

Tom eventually stopped circling you, placed himself beside you and you both watched Lestrange and Avery sitting next to each other on the sofa. They didn’t dare look back at you and simply stared down at the floor like two ten-year-olds waiting for their parents

to punish them.

“Oh, and another thing,” you began. “Avery stinks.”

Tom, to your surprise, laughed.

That made you a bit more confident, so you asked: “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

He did? You looked at him, taken aback.

“Nagini,” Tom said to you while watching as the snake’s head reared up. “She’s your witness. She confirmed you’re telling the truth.”

“Good girl,” you said and smiled at her, to which she hissed happily. You really had to get her some more mice. “Now, what were they thinking? What point were they trying to prove?”

“Let’s ask them,” he said, broke the Muffliato Charm with a swift motion of his wand and walked over towards the couch.

“I’m going to ask you some things,” he said to them. “And don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can tell. You’re lucky you caught me on a good day, actually.”

They both nodded.

“Polyjuice Potion?” Tom asked.

Avery looked over to Lestrange. They both nodded again.

“Where did you get that from?”

“Stole it from Slughorn,” Avery mumbled so lowly, you could hardly understand.

“Speak up!” Tom ordered.

“We stole it from Slughorn’s stock,” Avery repeated. “At the party, when everyone was dancing.”

Tom sighed and pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose. Of course they hadn’t brewed it themselves. They were far too daft.

“Why?” Tom went on. “What’s the reason for all that?”

“Well,” Lestrange cleared his throat. “We were only doing it for you, Tom. To make sure she’s not betraying you. To find out if she and her family were using you, you know.”

“So we could help you,” Avery added and nodded vehemently.

Tom grinned coldly. “And you thought I wouldn’t have found this out myself by now? That I would need your help? Seriously?”

“We thought-”

“No! You didn’t think at all,” Tom interrupted. “You went behind my back, stole from a teacher and disrespected my fiancée. You’re both an embarrassment for Slytherin and I swear, if I ever see one of you just looking her way, it’s not going to end this lightly.”

Both of them nodded again and looked down onto the floor, not saying anything.

“Now follow me,” Tom said, still angry with them.

“Where are we going?” Avery asked as he got up.

“I’m going to report you to the headmaster of course. And trust me, you’ll be glad Dippet is going to choose your punishment and not me.”

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maatryoshkaa · 4 years

Text

young god | chapter 15

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 12.0k

warnings: descriptions of violence, sexual assault, mental illness. dark themes and foul language. all information regarding psychiatric conditions or courtroom procedures are to be taken with a fat grain of salt.

description: As Han Jisung’s trial steadily approaches, Hwang Hyunjin struggles to decide where his loyalties lie. Prosecutor Kang is as ruthless as he is greedy, and a startling confession from Yang Jeongin reveals that the ugliest pasts often lie behind the brightest of smiles. Old scars run deep, and all wounds are finally reopened on the day of the trial.

watch the trailer here!

ryu says: “holy h*cking shit.”

15| the devil’s advocate.

“Is Miroh Heights rallying for the death of a 20-year-old orphan? Is justice always this heartless?

“The only existing psychological analysis of alleged serial killer Han Jisung has now been revealed to the public eye, painting a stark contrast with the image of the stone-cold murderer we were all introduced to before. What else is the prosecution hiding? Is Han Jisung at the mercy of a system that has failed him once — and will it fail him again? More on this complex case, next week.”

You set the school paper down on the diner table. Across from you, Bang Chan gave a low whistle. “Lee Felix, is it? You really outdid yourself, kid.”

Felix grinned. He was glowing, not just from the detective’s praise, but with a light sheen of sweat — you two had woken up at the crack of dawn to deliver the newspapers around town, Felix on Jeongin’s bike, and you and Chan in Woojin’s police cruiser. The delivery boy had even drawn out a map of all the shortcuts he knew, and so you had all made it back to Glow Cafe — where Hyunjin was waiting with fresh mugs of coffee — before noon.

Jeongin scanned the front-page article again, nodding excitedly. “I read the local press’ papers every day while I was in the hospital — this basically goes directly against everything they’ve been saying.” He still had weeks before he was allowed to be discharged from the hospital, but had managed to bribe a nurse into letting him take ‘short walks for fresh air’ during the day.

“Why’re we fighting against the local media, though?” Hyunjin asked. The barista looked much better now that Jeongin was awake — the colour had returned to his once-pale cheeks, and he had opened the cafe back up for business again. “I mean, what does the news have to do with the trial? Knowing the prosecutor, he probably doesn’t even care.”

Chan shook his head. “The media plays a huge role in cases like these — mass murder allegations, things that’ll implicate the entire town. In smaller cases, yeah, no one would look twice at the news. But for cases like Jisung’s, they’re going to bring in a jury for the trial — and most times, what the jury agrees on ends up being the final verdict.”

“But the jury isn’t supposed to have heard of the case beforehand.”

Woojin grimaced. “In theory. Miroh Heights is a big town, but it’s old — not to mention it’s a campus area.” When Hyunjin still looked confused, Woojin continued, “That all makes it a close-knit community. There’s only so many people who qualify for jury duty — and I’m willing to bet that there’s not a single person in Miroh Heights who isn’t keeping up with Jisung’s case by now.”

“Kang’s a top-tier scumbag, but he’s far from stupid,” Chan mused, reaching for his mug and frowning when there was no more coffee left. “It definitely wouldn’t be beyond him to pull some strings to make sure he gets to choose the people on the jury: the ones exposed to the case — the news — the most—”

You finished his thought for him. “Students. Professors. Citizens.”

“Exactly.”

There was a brief silence. Chan began a side conversation with Felix, and you snuck a look at Hyunjin. He had disappeared behind the counter, and was fiddling with the cash register with his head down.

You glanced back at the table. Woojin and Jeongin were sitting in a strangely awkward silence — the delivery boy’s expression was oddly closed off, you thought to yourself. It was almost...cold, a side of Jeongin you had never seen before. Shrugging, you excused yourself from your seat and retreated behind the bar to where Hyunjin was standing quietly. The barista was idly unrolling packets of coins to refill the cash register, and didn’t look up at you.

You nudged him gently. “Hey, ‘jinnie.” Nothing. “Hwang Hyunjin, talk to me.”

The long silence was broken only by the clinking of coins, until Hyunjin finally mumbled, “What d’you mean?”

You sighed, fiddling with an empty coin tube and trying to find the right words. “It’s— it’s a lot to ask for, I know.” You didn’t have to mention Jisung’s name for him to know what you were referring to — your boyfriend’s case hung over all of your heads like a guillotine every second of the day.

Still, your mind flashed back to his sudden outburst months ago, when he had first met Jisung face-to-face in the cafe. His cold, guarded wariness towards the other boy, and how he’d spent the next two months practically soulless by Jeongin’s bedside. You tried to meet his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot.”

The coins were trembling in Hyunjin’s long fingers. “You’ve been through more,” he muttered back. You didn’t have to follow his gaze to know he was looking at the site of your stab wound, hidden under the layers of your sweater. “How’d they let you out so early, anyways?”

“Hey, I was in there for nearly a month — they said I slept for three weeks straight, you know?” You laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension, but Hyunjin didn’t return the smile. “I’m okay, ‘jin.”

Your eyes searched his face for a response. Despite everything, Hyunjin still looked weary — like he had gotten older, more tired. He had seen things in the past few months that could never be erased — you all had. And you knew Hyunjin like the back of your hand — he had been one of the first faces you’d met when you’d moved to Miroh Heights, the unlikely first close friend you’d made. With absent parents who ran businesses abroad, Hyunjin had been on his own for most of his life. You knew how he always kept his worries and doubts to himself, how his polite, casual demeanor hid a heart full of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with or express.

“Are you okay, though?” Hyunjin asked, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours, and you felt your heart pang at how helpless he looked. “Every time you see something wrong — someone in trouble, you stop at nothing until you can help them. And I love that about you, y/n. I really do—but—” Hyunjin gestured his hands wildly, voice wavering as if he was struggling to get the words out, “You can’t save everyone, y/n.” The familiar words made you shrink back as Hyunjin kept talking. “The last time you tried, you nearly ended up— d-dead. I’m worried like hell, okay?. Worried that if you keep trying to save others, you’ll just be the one hurt in the end.”

“Hyunjin—” You reached out to grab his shaking hands, to calm him down, but your elbow knocked over a roll of coins. They spilled across the floor, making everyone jump and look up.

“Everything okay back there?” Chan called, and you nodded, waving him away distractedly as Hyunjin dropped down to pick the change up. As you knelt down to help him, you heard footsteps approach the counter, and looked up to see Jeongin behind you. Back at the table, Chan and Felix were still talking like newfound frat brothers, but Woojin was fiddling with his mug silently.

“Can I talk to him for a moment?” Jeongin asked you quietly, and you glanced back down at Hyunjin. Jeongin had been sitting the closest to the bar counter, you realised — he had probably heard a good chunk of your conversation. You nodded, placing the change on the countertop, and headed back to the table.

Hyunjin watched Jeongin dive for a quarter that was rolling away. Underneath Jeongin’s sleeves, Hyunjin could see fading scratches peeking out — where the skin had scraped away when he’d fallen to the ground, bloody and unconscious, the night of the attacks. They were nearly healed, but the memory alone still made Hyunjin’s gut twist, and he tore his gaze away.

“Do you still think about that night?”

Both Jeongin’s quiet voice and his question took Hyunjin by surprise, and he couldn’t help but look up. The younger boy’s eyes were soft, gentle — a contradiction to his naturally fox-like features — and it was as if he’d spoken Hyunjin’s thoughts out loud. You never had to explain anything to Jeongin, Hyunjin thought. Growing up with no one but his sickly grandmother, Hyunjin had never truly opened up to anyone before — but Jeongin always seemed to understand exactly how Hyunjin was feeling, and there was something about the younger boy that could always calm Hyunjin down.

He’d always looked at Jeongin like a younger brother, a bright presence Hyunjin wanted to protect and take care of at all costs.

Now, Hyunjin found himself wondering if Jeongin had been the one taking care of him, all along.

“I see it every time I close my eyes,” Jeongin finally continued, and the question repeated itself in Hyunjin’s head — that night. The night Han Jisung had killed another student, and sent Jeongin into a two-month coma. The night Hyunjin had woken up to find his closest friend bleeding out on his storefront. No matter how many times the memory crept up on Hyunjin, it still made his blood run cold.

Hyunjin could only nod, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Sometimes...I think about how things might’ve been different. If I hadn’t stopped — no, if I hadn’t even taken that shortcut through the Yellow Wood. Or...if I didn’t have to work the night shift in the first place.” Jeongin huffed a soft laugh, then drew quiet. “But we don’t really get to decide what happens to us, huh? One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, the world’s turned upside down.” He paused. Something in the younger boy’s voice made Hyunjin think he wasn’t just talking about the Yellow Wood anymore.

“I wonder if he...if Jisung thinks about that, too.” Jeongin continued. “How things would have changed if he hadn’t taken that path that night. Or, if he never had to do the things he did...” Jeongin trailed off, and a question was left hanging in the air.

Where did it all go wrong?

It wasn’t like Hyunjin had never seen Jisung in passing — the kid whose bright smile and boisterous laugh masked his strangely wide, dark eyes. Who seemed to linger alone on the streets and in the shadows of murky alleyways after curfew, just wandering. As if the boy was constantly looking for something he’d lost — but had long since forgotten what it was.

“I just...” Hyunjin’s own voice surprised him, but as soon as he got the words out, he could no longer stop them. “I just want everything to go back to normal. The way things used to be. I—” Hyunjin looked around the cafe, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’ve grown up in this town all my life. Maybe I’ve grown scared of change — scared of how it could make me lose everything. Scared of how it could make me lose you guys.” He put his throbbing head in his hands. “Maybe that’s what makes me a coward. I don’t know Jisung. But I’ve seen the things he’s done, and I can’t — I can’t watch it happen again. I don’t think I could take it.” He looked at Jeongin helplessly. “How do you...forgive someone who could have killed you?”

Jeongin was silent, pensive. He picked up the last coin and slid it into the cash register before saying quietly, “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

Hyunjin frowned in confusion. “You don’t...talk about your family often.”

“Most of the time, I’d rather not.” Jeongin gave a small smile. “But these days, I keep thinking about them. I know people talk about them behind my back — why a freshman has to work delivery jobs all day, and study all night. Why no one came to visit me in the hospital, except for you.” The younger boy shifted his feet, gaze dropping to his hands. “My dad’s in prison. Third-degree murder.”

Hyunjin’s hands stilled, and Jeongin continued talking. “My mum was your typical office worker — real big company, too. We were never that well off to begin with — maybe that’s why she stayed silent about the...the abuse for so long. About the stuff her higher-ups would do to her behind locked doors, when they’d make her stay overtime in their offices.” Jeongin’s voice wavered, and he cleared his throat shakily.

“I don’t know how my dad finally found out, I...I could never bring myself to ask.” Jeongin was gripping the count[er, knuckles white and voice barely audible. “I’ve never seen my dad angry before. He doesn’t get angry. He’d always take the short end of the stick with a smile, you know? This was the first time he’d ever...picked a fight with anyone.” Jeongin paused, eyes glazed over in memory. “That night, Mum was staying late again. But this time...my dad showed up at her workplace. Burst in after-hours, like a madman. And that night, neither of them came home.

“The police came knocking on our door the next morning. And they told me my father killed three men in a fight. A fight.” Jeongin looked up at Hyunjin now, smiling, but his crescent eyes were filled with tears. “No one cares about an office woman’s sexual abuse story. Not when you have the families of three rich businessmen bribing law enforcement any way they can to keep their reputations clean. You can guess who the lead prosecutor of the trial was.”

“Prosecutor Kang,” Hyunjin breathed, not daring to believe it, but Jeongin nodded.

“The trial was easy. My dad would spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin blurted, voice barely a whisper. “They can’t—it’s not—”

“The system isn’t fair,” Jeongin replied. It sounded like he was quoting someone. “It’s been a long time since the system’s chosen morals over money.”

Hyunjin’s gaze wandered back towards the table, where Woojin was sitting, and thought back to the tense atmosphere between Jeongin and the young police captain earlier. “Is that why you and Captain Kim…”

“His parents put mine in prison. It’s more than a little awkward, really.” Jeongin laughed, but the sound didn’t quite reach his eyes. The younger boy always tried to put on a bright face, Hyunjin realised with a pang, no matter the pain he might be hiding underneath.

“I’m not trying to compare my dad to Jisung. Jisung, everything he’s done…” Jeongin shook his head. “He has too much to make up for, I wouldn’t even know where to start. We all knew that going into this.” He glanced over his shoulder at the table where his friends were seated. “y/n more than anyone. If we make Han Jisung out to be innocent, if we try to get him pardoned...that makes us just as bad as Kang.” Jeongin sighed. “But I can’t just watch them treat him like they did my dad. Make him out to be a psychopath, until even he starts to believe it.

“My mum can’t find work anywhere. She doesn’t sleep, barely eats, never leaves the bed because she’s so sick. The doctors all say she has lifelong trama. I don’t want to watch the system...end another life that doesn’t deserve it.” Jeongin glanced behind him. Hyunjin followed his line of sight towards the table, where everyone was chatting. Jisung’s friends — Felix, Chan, maybe even Woojin; and his girlfriend, you. “I don’t want to see what it does to the people that love him.”

Hyunjin was silent for a long moment. The chatter at the table and the clinking of the coffee mugs seemed like background noise as Jeongin watched the older boy take in everything he had said. Outside, students and citizens were beginning to fill the streets as rush hour approached — it was the end of the school term, and the bustle of summer life was humming beyond the glass windows of Glow Cafe.

Before Hyunjin could respond, though, the cafe doors swung open, the CLOSED sign clattering against the glass in protest and making everyone look up at the sudden commotion. A middle-aged woman in a tweed blazer and pencil skirt was marching straight towards the table you were seated at, a younger woman with a notebook stumbling after her.

Hyunjin straightened up, tone professional despite the weary look on his face. “I’m sorry, but we’re closed today under special circumstances—”

She cut him off impatiently. “Where is Felix Lee?”

Bewildered, Felix stood, holding out his hand to attempt a handshake. Instead, the woman reached into her bag and slammed down a newspaper identical to the one you already had on the table — the school paper.

“What is the meaning of this?” Her voice was high and reedy as she jabbed a red-nailed finger onto the front page, where Jisung’s article had been printed. “Who do you think you are to publish these—these baseless stories?”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” you responded tensely, “I think you’ll find that this article contains more truth in it than all the articles the local press has published, combined.”

She turned on you, sneering in disbelief. “Do you know who I am?” You glanced outside uneasily, where a sleek black car was parked.

“Why do rich people always assume we know who they are? Listen, lady, we don’t care—” Chan began, but was interrupted by a sputtering sound Felix made.

“I think we should care,” your best friend choked out. In his hands was a business card that the woman’s assistant had handed him, and the blood had drained from his freckled face. “She’s the head of the local press.”

Everyone fell silent, and the woman smiled slyly. “Precisely. Publishing articles like these…” she glanced down at the school newspapers on the table, clicking her tongue. “Your school should be ashamed of you. An amateur school newsletter, overstepping their boundaries.”

You saw Felix’s expression darken at her words, ears red. “A good newspaper reports on all sides of the story. We publish the truth here, and nothing but the truth—”

“Why? So you can all bail your psychopath friend out of prison? Do you even care about the implications? Your truth is hindering the investigation of a convicted murderer. People like him should not get their story told. Your truth will put this town in danger if he walks free, you understand? It will get more people killed.” She fixed Felix with a withering look of contempt. “Let me give you a word of advice, young man, if you even think of surviving in this industry—sometimes, you need to know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Your mouth was burning with countless words to bite back with but your tongue stayed stubbornly tied, mind racing. The woman had spoken out loud what you had all thought of at one point, what you had been most afraid of the public believing. You stole a look at Hyunjin behind the counter. The barista was avoiding eye contact, but you knew he had been thinking the same thing. His stormy, unreadable expression made your stomach churn — you knew he had been the most hesitant and unsure of Jisung’s case out of everyone, but seeing it written on his face now made you feel even worse.

Sensing that things were beginning to get out of control, Woojin cleared his throat. “Ma’am, if you’re finished, I would kindly ask you to leave—”

“I have every right to stay here,” the woman interrupted viciously, snatching up the campus newspaper again, “until your journalist friend revokes these articles—and promises not to interfere with the investigation until the trial has concluded.”

You started in protest. “You—”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Hyunjin’s calm voice cutting through the growing chaos made everyone freeze and turn towards the barista. He pushed the cash register shut with a bit too much force, and leaned down to rest his forearms on the bar counter. “I told you we were closed, yes? You have no more business here. If you choose to continue infringing on my property, we can bring this to the police.” His eyes were still stormy as he stared the stunned woman down — but the words coming from his mouth were the complete opposite from what you had been expecting. “Now get out of my cafe.”

“I—why, you—” The woman could only sputter for several seconds as you all stared at Hyunjin in awe, the most self-assured expression you had seen on the barista in ages — as if he had finally made up his mind about something. Behind him, Jeongin had a small smile on his face.

“Preposterous,” the head of the press stammered, taken aback by Hyunjin’s bluntness. Her mouth opened and closed like a puppet’s, but no words came out. Finally, glaring daggers at all of you, she snatched her bag and stormed out in a whirlwind of nauseating perfume, her poor assistant barely keeping up behind her.

The silence lasted for several more moments. Hyunjin was still staring after her with a reserved expression, his shaking hazel pupils the only indication of how nervous he was.

Felix was the one who finally spoke first, the wide grin in his voice breaking the tension. “Hwang Hyunjin. You are the man.”

━━━━━━━━

Opening the door to Bang Chan’s office sent clouds of dust into the stale air, and the detective into a coughing fit. Chan moved to snap the blinds open, letting evening sunlight warm the musty room.

“Bloody hell, Chan,” Woojin groaned as he patted the dust from the coffee table in the corner. “I was joking about your office being a coffin before, but—how did you let it get this bad?”

You, Hyunjin, and Jeongin followed the police captain into the room, taking tentative seats around the coffee table as the detective tried in vain to open a window and clear the stuffy air.

“I haven’t had any new clients since this case was taken from me by that damn prosecutor,” Chan protested indignantly, grabbing a notebook and pen. “I’m taking a well-deserved hiatus. B’sides,” he added, sighing, “I don’t exactly have the heart to focus on anything else right now.”

Woojin grimaced, and looked around the room. “We’re waiting on Felix?”

You nodded. It had been nearly a month since the first article had been released — a whole month since the head of the press herself had come storming into Glow Cafe, demanding for the publication to be stopped. You weren’t sure if it had been the woman’s biting remarks or the newfound support from Hyunjin, but Felix seemed to have hit the ground running, publishing story after story and going head-to-head with every article the local press put out.

The articles were beginning to pick up steam, too — as soon as the school year had ended, the entire town had begun buzzing with talk about the contradicting stories. You should have felt relieved that your last-resort plan had even stood a chance — but the longer the fight and investigation went on, the more you could feel the stress weighing down on your shoulders. Though removed from the investigation, Chan and Woojin came to you with more and more bad news they were able to overhear with each passing day. The trial was scheduled for next week, and you hadn’t heard from Jisung since...well, since you had found him, bloody and broken, in the back lot of Mia’s Diner.

“Things aren’t looking too good,” Woojin began, expression grim. “The prosecution’s claimed custody of the camcorder footage and Jeongin’s Walkman tapes. Seungmin’s legally not allowed to touch them anymore—not without Kang’s permission.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the police captain’s words. You, Chan, and Seungmin had all been warned separately to stay out of the investigation by legal officials, but that hadn’t stopped you from gathering what information you could. You should have known Kang would find a way to get ahold of all the evidence, but nothing could have prepared you for the sick feeling the confirmation stirred in your gut.

Chan sighed, tapping his pen on his cheek. “Far as I know, Jisung still isn’t taking a lawyer. The kid won’t even talk to me now.”

“How’s the trial going to work, then?” Hyunjin asked. “If the kid doesn’t take an attorney…”

“It’ll be his word against Kang’s,” Chan nodded glumly. “It’s a trial held under special circumstances. The prosecution will present all the evidence they choose, the judge and jury’ll listen to all the witnesses who decide to come forward, and then they’ll use that to form the final verdict.” He paused, then added, “And if Jisung chooses to defend himself, he has the right to speak, too.”

“Except he won’t,” you interjected, heart heavy, remembering Jisung’s face when he had told you about his parents’ deaths. Jisung had spent his entire life living in the shadow of guilt his childhood cast over him, a self-induced hell he forced himself to relive every day.

“Kang has the jury, the witnesses, and the evidence,” Jeongin thought aloud, the sentence alone making the air feel heavy.

“We’ve all been called to attend the trial, yeah?” Chan nodded at you, Woojin, and Hyunjin. “Us, Felix, and Seungmin can only come as spectators. Jeongin’s been called in as an eyewitness.” He frowned, counting off his fingers. “The only other type of witness Kang can bring in would be an expert witness. Medics, psychologists, that sort of thing.”

“Kang’s clever — he’ll probably bring in child psychologists or medical specialists,” Woojin noted, frowning. “It’d be easy for them to cherry-pick the evidence to use it against Jisung — especially since he refuses to speak to anyone right now.”

“Haven’t they found anyone for Jisung?” You asked desperately. “His old social workers, foster families —”

“He was abandoned over a decade ago. None of his social workers have come forward.” Woojin sighed. “But you’re right — they have found a forensics specialist to come testify.”

Jeongin perked up. “Who?”

Chan looked grim. “Head coroner Lee Minho.”

Your heart sank. Lee Minho. No one was willing to address the elephant in the room: that Minho admitting to his own crimes would be one of the easiest ways to avoid a death penalty. Except…

“No one on the prosecution knows what Minho’s done, and we don’t have any incriminating evidence against him, either. They won’t believe us, and there’s no way he would confess,” you muttered, remembering the uneasy conversation you had had with the coroner on the rooftop. Minho had been hiding in the shadows of Jisung’s self-destructive crossfire his entire life. From the coroner’s unreadable eyes to his strange, reserved attitude, you had no idea how to guess his next move.

There was a knock on the door, and everyone looked up as Felix walked into the office, backpack sliding off one shoulder. “I have good news and bad news,” your best friend announced, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa.

“Bad news first,” you answered immediately, groaning. Good news was rare these days. “I want to get it over with.” Hyunjin nodded in agreement, looking at Felix expectantly.

“The head of the press is still up our asses, believe it or not. She’s changed her strategy — they’re making bribes now.” Felix fished a slip of paper from his bag. “Someone came in today — dressed real proper and business-like — and told me that if I halted publications, they’d be willing to pay a pretty hefty sum.” He flipped the slip over onto the coffee table.

It was a cheque, you realised. Chan whistled as he read out the amount. You looked back up at Felix, holding your breath.

“I took the bribe,” Felix admitted, tone apologetic, and your shoulders slumped. Your last connection to the investigation, gone — but Felix kept talking, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I took the bribe, and we used the money to buy everyone in our department the most expensive coffee on campus. Actually, thanks to them, we pulled an all-nighter and published the last part of your case study this morni—oof!”

Your best friend was cut off when you tackled him into a hug, nearly tumbling backwards as Felix laughed and patted your back. “Felix,” you declared, voice still shaking from how scared you had been, “You are ruthless.”

“One of my many charms,” he grinned, Hyunjin clapping him on the shoulder. Felix pulled away from you, and his hazel eyes suddenly grew serious as he scanned your face.

Out of everyone at Miroh Heights, Felix had known you the longest — if anything was wrong with the other person, you were always able to pick up on it. Despite your relieved smile, Felix could see how overworked you were — you had been reading up on past cases nonstop, making phone calls, and making notes on the camcorder footage, no matter how much rewatching it traumatised you to the core. From your bloodshot eyes to your pale lips, anyone could see that the upcoming trial had taken the worst toll on you. “y/n,” he said worriedly, “you need to take it easy.”

You sighed, scrabbling a hand through your dishevelled hair. “How can I? I need to keep working on this — I need to be strong.”

“You’ve always been strong.” Surprisingly, it was Hyunjin who spoke up this time. For the first time in weeks, there was no more anger or bitterness in his voice — only sincerity. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You tried to give him a small, grateful smile, but even that couldn’t staunch the bubbling anxiety in your gut. “The trial’s in a week. We can’t let up now.”

You could sense the boys looking at you anxiously until Chan finally clapped his hands, breaking the grim silence. “Well, you heard the boss lady.” The detective winked at you. “Let’s get back to work, boys.”

━━━━━━━━

The courthouse lobby was already overflowing with chaos and reporters by the time Prosecutor Kim Seungmin arrived at its doors.

This wasn’t his first time attending a trial, of course, but the scale of it all was what made him uneasy. Citizens of Miroh Heights were huddled outside the gates, catching whatever glimpses of the trial and snippets of information they could. When Seungmin had elbowed his way into the building, he spotted security guards flanking all the entrances.

There was a sign for the bathroom on his left hand side. Seungmin made a beeline for it, pushing open the doors and allowing himself to escape the pandemonium for a couple of moments. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he saw a familiar figure standing by the sink.

Prosecutor Kang’s eyes met Seungmin’s through the mirror and the older man straightened up, snakelike mouth curving into a smile. “Ah, Prosecutor Kim. Good to see you.”

Seungmin nodded stiffly as he tried to muster up the courage to walk past his colleague. He could feel Kang’s beady eyes watching him contemplatively.

“Are you still beat-up about the case? You must be,” Kang mused, turning back towards the sink and flicking on the tap. “Don’t get yourself too down about losing it. It was only a matter of time.” If Seungmin didn’t look at him, Kang’s tone sounded almost kind.

Almost.

Kang was here on behalf of the prosecution, with his team of carefully selected witnesses and—Seungmin was willing to bet—jurors. Seungmin had barely landed a spot as a spectator in the trial, alongside Felix, the school journalist. If things went Kang’s way, anything and everything that happened in today’s trial would be completely out of Seungmin’s control.

“Rookie mistakes,” Kang continued, wiping his spectacles. “It’s to be expected at your age, really—”

Seungmin ignored his passive insult and turned back towards Kang, tone pleading as he tried one last time. “Mr. Kang, you don’t have to do this. Han Jisung—”

Kang barked a laugh, cutting him off. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were filled with equal parts amusement and resentment. “I’m not sure why you young people always have such blinded judgement,” he seethed. “He’s a monster.”

“He’s just a boy,” Seungmin shot back, heart pounding at the way surprise flashed on Kang’s face. He had never dared to challenge his colleagues before — especially not Prosecutor Kang — but he forced himself to stand his ground as Kang finally turned around to face Seungmin. He was silent for several tense moments, slowly drying his hands before picking up his briefcase. Then, Kang’s expression smoothed over as he raised an eyebrow at the younger prosecutor.

“Not in my court of law, he isn’t.”

He had walked briskly out the door before Seungmin could muster a reply. The commotion outside grew louder before it was muffled again by the closing doors, and the younger male was left in the dark, empty washroom, filled with an increasing feeling of dread.

━━━━━━━━

Jisung jerked forward when the prison bus came to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming his head against the front seat. He tried to shake himself out of his daze and turned towards the window, tired eyes adjusting to the morning sunlight. Outside was the town he had grown up in, and yet everything felt so...different.

As soon as the bus doors swung open, swarms of reporters surrounded its sides. Two policemen roughly escorted him through the crowd, and he could vaguely register the questions being screamed at him from every angle.

“Han Jisung, is it true?”

“Did you kill all those people? Did you set fire to your own home?”

“Will you plead guilty? Will you plead insanity?”

Insanity? Jisung’s mind flashed to the memory lapses every time he...killed, the gaping black spots in his thoughts, the endless throbbing in his temples that never quite went away. His head was swimming, but his body felt numb. Have I gone insane?

Once they were inside, he was ushered further down the hallway into a side room. A stone-faced clerk in a grey suit nodded at the policemen, then fixed his hawk-like eyes on Jisung’s unfocused face.

“This is him?” He asked dubiously, then cleared his throat. He didn’t move to shake Jisung’s hand. “Well, then. You refused to take an attorney or public defender, so, uh...your trial will be held under special circumstances. The judge will hear the witnesses, the evidence, and anything you have to say. Got it, kid?”

Jisung couldn’t will himself to form any words. Everything sounded as if he were underwater.

The man coughed nervously. “As long as you cooperate, things shouldn’t be too bad, eh? Although from what I’ve heard about you, I wouldn’t keep my hopes up.”

Jisung could sense the official’s eyes raking him up and down in slight distaste at his silence. As Jisung quietly took a seat in the corner, he could hear the man muttering irritatedly to the guard by the door and chuckling.

“It’s always the messed-up kids, huh?”

━━━━━━━━

You watched as the courtroom slowly filled with people — reporters and spectators huddling around you, clerks and attorneys taking their places in their respective boxes. You were sitting with Bang Chan, Felix, Woojin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin near the bar, watching the members of the jury shuffle in. They were all somewhat familiar faces — students, professors, and citizens, as Bang Chan had guessed — and you felt a small glimmer of hope every time you recognised someone.

The prosecution’s witnesses were beginning to file in on the opposite side of the room, as well: A stocky boy with a swollen, bandaged nose, and a scrawnier one, also heavily bandaged — the only survivors, you realised, shuddering — from that terrible night at Mia’s Diner. Then there was Jeongin, whose face made you relax slightly. Next to him, though, there was a nervous old woman who you didn’t recognise, and an unfamiliar middle-aged man. And of course, pacing back and forth behind them, like a panther on the prowl, was Prosecutor Kang.

Every time the doors swung open you couldn’t help but look up, heart hammering in your chest.

You were really only looking for one person, after all.

Sure enough, the heavy oak door in the corner creaked open, and a familiar flash of golden hair made your breath catch in your throat. Flanked by two stone-faced officers, Jisung entered the courtroom.

You immediately leapt to your feet, and heard Chan whisper in warning. “y/n.”. The detective’s tone was gentle, but you didn’t have to turn back around to imagine the alarmed look on his face. Your eyes were glued on Jisung, and it took every fibre of your being not to sprint up to him, push past the guards, and pull him into your arms. You were shaking with equal parts relief and horror as you took in the sight of him.

He’d lost weight, his skin was pale and bruised, but his eyes — you felt your mouth go dry. The eyes you had seen fill with both laughter and sadness, light and darkness, were now completely lifeless. As if he wasn’t really seeing anything at all. You felt hot tears prick at the back of your throat and you clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from calling out his name. You had thought you were prepared, that you would force yourself to stay calm at all costs — but now, as the weight of the situation was finally beginning to sink down on your shoulders, you weren’t so sure you would be able to.

You felt Felix’s hand gently tug at yours, the only thing anchoring you to reality, and slowly sat back down, your hands grabbing fistfuls of your cardigan to keep from shaking.

Jisung found you in the crowded courtroom before you did, and the split second he caught your face soothed an ache in his chest he’d been trying to ignore, like a long-neglected wound. Seeing you alive and breathing — when the last memory he had of you had been one where you were bleeding out in his own hands — sent a bittersweet pang through him, the sheer relief overwhelming him to the point that he felt his own knees buckle. To anyone else, you looked almost normal, he thought — but he would have been a fool not to catch the dark circles under your eyes, your shaking hands, the raw worry that had etched itself into your weary features.

As soon as your eyes flickered up to him, Jisung immediately looked away, a voice in the back of his head seething. Coward.

His gaze wandered around the room and he was instantly met with a mix of hostile glares and fascinated stares — like an animal that had been chained down. Wherever he looked, dozens of eyes were on him, dozens of blazing lights searing through him and pinning him to the spot. It was almost as if he could hear the spectators’ thoughts, the countless names that the local press had called him ringing through his head. The youngest mass murderer of Miroh Heights. A walking psychopath. The soon-to-be-convicted serial killer.

“Order in the court,” you heard a man next to the judge call out, and a hush swept across the room. The judge — a middle-aged woman in sombre black robes — nodded. “The trial is now in session. The case of Han Jisung, and the Miroh Heights Murders, Your Honour.”

Kang moved forward and cleared his throat.

“Your Honour, today I intend to prove the defendant guilty of nineteen counts of first degree murder, as well as a history of crimes spanning over a period of thirteen years. This includes eight counts of arson, including the defendant’s own home, and five counts of aggravated assault, including the attack of Yang Jeongin three months prior. The numbers are based on the images of the victims we showed him that he recognised.” Kang gave a deliberate pause, flashing a look of disdain over where Jisung was seated. “He has violated Sections 235 and 435 of the Criminal Code, and the prosecution intends to prove him fit to receive capital punishment.”

Capital punishment — the death penalty. Kang was doing exactly what you all had feared, and his words and self-assured attitude made you feel sick.

“Does the defendant have any opening statements?”

Your eyes flickered to Jisung’s face — had his expression darkened? His features had stiffened into a cold mask — lifeless eyes, sickly pallor, clenched jaw. It was almost as if he was trying to fit into Kang’s description of him, you realised with a sinking feeling. To your dismay, Jisung stayed silent, and the judge cleared her throat.

“Please call upon your first witness.”

You watched the nervous old woman from earlier wobble forward and introduce herself.

Kang had pulled out images of a familiar crime scene — the burnt-down flat on the outskirts of town, where the remains of a woman identified as a local sex worker had been found. The night of your first date, you thought, grimacing. “Where were you, the night of this fire?”

“I was making my rounds through this neighbourhood,” the old woman began, fingers trembling as she pointed at the images. “I happen to live ‘round there, and I own some of these flats myself. This woman is—was—a tenant of mine.”

“Did you see anything suspicious prior to the fire?”

The old lady paused. “I thought I saw a boy lingering ‘round the alleyways. Holding his head and stumbling around real bad, pacing back ‘n forth like he couldn’t see clearly. ‘twas near the red-light district, so I thought he was just another drunkard.”

“Could you point to the boy you saw, stumbling through the alleyways?”

The old woman slowly pointed at Jisung.

“And what did you see, at around 10 o’clock, sundown?”

“I-I saw the roofs in my neighbourhood go up in flames. Ran as quick as I could, but the blaze was already too big to stop —” She shuddered. “But through the smoke, I could see the figure of a boy in the fire, escapin’ from the house.”

“Could you point to the boy you saw escaping the burning building?”

You watched in muted dread as she lifted another quivering finger in Jisung’s direction.

“There’s no way she could have seen clearly through all that smoke and fire,” you heard Woojin mutter behind you.

“Your tenant had no prior connection to him — no negative relations beforehand, correct?”

The old woman nodded. “Not that I know of.”

Prosecutor Kang hummed. “We have no reasons to believe this murder was provoked by the victim. And yet, that night, Han Jisung set fire to an innocent woman’s home — in cold blood. She was an outcast, no family or friends — he likely chose a victim that wouldn’t be missed.” He smiled, turning towards the judge. “That is all for the eyewitness, Your Honour.”

You grit your teeth as the old woman sat back down. Kang had called on his next witness — a chubby, red-nosed man who introduced himself as a child psychiatrist.

“The defendant refused to answer questions during the psychological evaluation,” Kang informed the judge smoothly. “We researched his past thoroughly—”

“Bullshit,” Felix muttered.

“—and reached our conclusions by analyzing the nature of his criminal history during his adolescence. We will also be consulting—” Kang motioned for the two boys to step forward, “His former classmates, who will testify on Mr. Han’s character.”

“He’s insane,” Chan whispered in horror, “He’s letting the kids from the diner attack testify on Jisung’s mental condition?”

“Please state your affiliation with the defendant.”

“We grew up in the same orphanage,” the boy in the buzzcut answered, his voice thick from his swollen nose. “Kid always stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“Did the defendant ever exhibit any strange behaviours during his adolescence?” Kang asked.

“He’d be missing from classes for days,” the scrawny boy piped up. “Always hoverin’ in the corner like a little creep. Sometimes even lightin’ things on fire. Never got in trouble though — always real charming towards the teachers.”

“Changed his expressions like masks,” the boy in the buzzcut added quickly.

Kang turned towards the child psychiatrist. “How would you describe the mental condition of a patient like Mr. Han, taking these testimonies and the defendant’s criminal history into account?”

“W-well,” the red-faced man began, sweaty brow furrowing. “Starting with his unexplained history of pyromanic tendencies — this destructive behaviour indicates the patient harboured violent habits from a young age. That’s often a strong indicator of various conduct disorders in young children.”

“But isn’t it normal for children to be curious, to cause a little trouble?” Kang smiled — he was playing the devil’s advocate, you realised uneasily. “You surely can’t sum up his fascination with fire as a dangerous condition.”

The psychiatrist nodded. “Of course not. But the patient was able to shift between personas from a very young age — like his classmates have said, he could be cold and reserved to them, but charming and cunning towards authority figures. This constant deception in young children, along with the destructive tendencies, is what often leads to sociopathic behaviour.”

“Sociopathy,” Kang repeated, and turned towards the judge. “Oh, dear.”

You looked on in dismay as Kang kept twisting the case like the strings of an ugly puppet, clearly aware of the way the jury and spectators were beginning to lean towards the prosecution’s arguments. With Kang’s carefully crafted questions directed at nervous, unsuspecting witnesses, everything seemed to point to one obvious answer. Han Jisung was a guilty serial murderer, there could be no question of it. Even the testimonies were beginning to blur together:

He went all psycho on us.

Laughing like some maniac, like he enjoyed it.

Murdered my friends for no reason.

At this rate, you didn’t stand a chance.

Kang needed one more witness — one more witness was all it would take for the trial to shift completely in his favour, and for you to finally lose hope. You looked around the room in desperation and spotted Minho seated on the prosecution’s side, the coroner’s smooth and mask-like expression doing nothing to calm your frazzled nerves. His words from the rooftop rang in your head, sending chills down your spine.

There is little you can do with people who don’t want to be helped, y/n. You’re just like how I was.

Was that why Minho had cooperated with the prosecution? Because he thought that Jisung was already beyond saving? As if he could feel your gaze burning into him, Minho’s eyes darted upwards to meet yours. You were startled to find that there was something unfamiliar in his expression; something that hadn’t been there the last time you’d met him — like a crack in a mask, a ripple in smooth water. Before you could decipher what it was, you heard Kang’s haughty voice calling Minho up to the stand, and the coroner turned away.

“Please state your name and status.”

“Lee Minho, forensic pathologist and head coroner of the Miroh Heights murder cases.”

“Could you describe the autopsy results of the confirmed victims?” Kang held up a remote and projected images of various crime scenes onto a screen. An uneasy murmur rippled through the jury and spectators at the graphic images — some, like the burned body of the woman, and caved-in skull of the man at the Yellow Wood, you recognized, but there were several more you never had the courage to look at before.

Minho glanced at the photos Kang had projected onto the screen, expression unchanging. You remembered his oddly empty smile when you had first met him, when you had asked him if the endless rows of corpses ever made him uncomfortable.

“I’m sure it did, at some point. Sooner or later, they all start to look the same.”

“Yes. Well, as you can see, the victims’ bodies almost always showed signs of excessive force and trauma. Victim #1, Na Jangmin, was pronounced dead on scene from smoke inhalation and respiratory burns from the combustion of various chemicals found in the science laboratory.” Minho pointed to a gruesome image of a peeling, shrivelled corpse that made your skin crawl.

“Victim #2, Park Beomsoo. Died from asphyxiation. The victim had a high dosage of flunitrazepam — Rohypnol — in his system prior to his death.”

“And what is Rohypnol, Mr. Lee?” Kang interjected.

“It’s a powerful tranquilizer drug. Small amounts are sold as sleeping pills, but high concentrations can cause paralysis, or even loss of consciousness. It’s a common date rape drug.”

“Did the victim consume the drug of their own accord?”

“The concentration is too high to have been used as a sleeping pill dosage. The victim’s time of death was around noon, on campus, so there would have been no reason to for him to consume the drug. We detected traces of food in Park’s body along with the drug, but we don’t know where the drug came from.”

Kang turned towards the judge triumphantly. “Shortly after the drug took effect, the victim was pronounced dead. This was a premeditated crime. The defendant drugged the victim’s food, and slowly suffocated Park Beomsoo to death. Taking the defendant’s mental condition into consideration, Your Honour—” Kang gave a meaningful nod, a dark glint in his hawklike eyes, “I would argue that the defendant may have enjoyed the process of committing the murder.”

It took the last ounce of your self-control not to leap up from your chair at his words. Seemingly unfazed, Minho kept talking. “You can also find strange correlations between the victims. We always deduce signs of brute force exerted, and a pattern of victims: people with a history of abuse, adultery, and harassment. You could say that this killer...hunted killers.”

“The defendant’s M.O., Your Honour,” Kang added, nodding. “The constant pattern of victims and killing styles confirm that these were premeditated murders, habitual murders.”

You felt your heart sink, feeling sick. Beside you, Woojin had his head in his hands. Your last hope had gone down the drain. You should have known the coroner would play along, that he would never give himself in; that Lee Minho was the type to always save his own skin before saving others’—

“However,” Minho spoke up again, “I’d like to add that all the crime scenes are also always impeccably clean. We observed minimal blood spattering, DNA evidence, and even fingerprints. Some wounds on the victims’ corpses didn’t match the hypothesised murder weapons, and were ready to become cold cases.”

“Evidence that the perpetrator of these murders was also able to plan their clean-up afterwards,” Kang flashed the coroner a strange look. “Ladies and gentlemen, this only shows that the killer is meticulous and calculated in his attacks. As I’ve said, this is an insidious, long-seasoned killer we have on our hands—”

“You might be wondering why the evidence for this case is so scattered,” Minho’s mild voice cut him off, and Kang looked irritated at the sudden interruption but let the coroner continue. “Why the killings are so sporadic, always occurring at irregular intervals.” He paused, thinking. “Why nothing seems to fit together.”

It took several moments for his words to hit you, and you lifted your head in disbelief.

What? You turned to your friends, who all looked equally confused.

What is he trying to say?

“I remember recording that the deduced weapon at the Yellow Wood attacks was a hammer, or crowbar.” Minho nodded at the papers in the Judge’s hands. “That’s not true.”

All the heads in the room seemed to snap up in shock at the coroner’s blunt words. You felt your breath stop, and looked over at Chan, whose expression was just as stunned.

“The weapon of choice was actually a stone from the Yellow Wood,” Minho shrugged. The coroner set down the papers Prosecutor Kang had handed him, turning to face the jury. “If you dig around in the lake outside Miroh Heights Hospital, you might be able to find it. Then there’s the vodka from the fire, the knocked-over chemicals in the science laboratory, a janitor’s rope from the rooftop. They were all impulsive weapon choices,” Minho nodded at the judge, “all from the scene of the crime. As if the perpetrator had chosen it on the spot, in a fleeting moment of impulsive judgment.”

You saw Kang sputtering behind him, mouth opening and closing uselessly. The Judge was evidently taken aback, too, peering at Minho from over her half-moon glasses. “What are you trying to say, Mr. Lee?”

“That it should be obvious that these crimes were almost never premeditated.” Minho glanced at the pictures of the crime scene. His voice was quiet — nearly inaudible — but exasperated, as if he were surprised at the words coming out of his own mouth. The entire room seemed to be leaning forward, listening to his words with bated breath. “They were done in the heat of the moment, and someone else had to tamper with the evidence afterwards.”

“How could you possibly know—”

“Because I’m the one who’s been cleaning up after Han Jisung for the past thirteen years.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock as a hush fell over the room, reporters gasping and scribbling in their notepads. Minho had a small smile on his face as he took in the entire room’s response — how everyone had fallen quiet, speechless at the sudden turn the trial had taken. The smile wasn’t gloating or cruel, you realised slowly. It was filled with a simple curiosity and wonder, like a child who had finally tried something new for the first time.

Even Jisung had looked up, his eyes widened in surprise. “Minho—” His voice was raw from disuse as he called out to his first friend, his oldest friend — but Minho only smiled at him and shook his head slightly.

The room was shifting uneasily around him. He should have been scared, Minho thought. He could already feel lies instinctively forming on his tongue, a thousand ways he could backpedal and take back what he had just said. It had become second nature to him, he realised — covering up murders first, and his own emotions second; the two things he had always feared the most. He could hear Kang angrily stammering and calling his name behind him, but Minho ignored him.

The judge cleared her throat unsteadily, fixing her piercing gaze on him. “Why are you doing this? You are aware that a confession like this will lose you much more than your job? That it may very well condemn you to a lifetime in prison?”

“I’m aware,” Minho replied softly, eyes wandering across the room and landing on Jisung’s distraught face. The boy he had clung onto as his only family, the boy who he had both loved and feared for thirteen years. There was nothing left for him to lose. “I thought for the longest time that covering the murders were my own twisted way of...saving the boy. I don’t think I had the courage in me to do much else.” He looked around the courtroom, and his eyes finally landed on you. The girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but was strong enough to challenge him with a steady voice and blazing eyes. The girl who was an unapologetic contradiction, he remembered, almost fondly. The girl who had reminded him what it was like to be brave, to finally start living for himself.

Yes, he thought. This was the least he could do.

“Han Jisung had nothing to do with the cover-ups of the crime scenes,” Minho raised his voice, surprised at the strength in it. Behind him, he could hear the prosecution stirring, and felt two security guards seize his arms to remove him from the podium. “He is not the depraved killer the prosecution wants you to think—”

“Your Honour, this must be a set-up between the coroner and the defendant,” Kang cut him off furiously, shooting Minho a death glare behind his spectacles. The murmuring of the jury and reporters drowned out the coroner’s last words as he was dragged from the room. “Your Honour, do not be deceived—”

“Order in the court!” The judge banged the gavel repeatedly, holding her head in her hand as if she had a migraine. “The—the coroner’s statements will be deemed faulty, and Lee Minho will be dealt with separately. The trial will continue.”

The silence that settled over the room after the coroner’s outburst was eerie. You could feel your heart still pounding, mind racing over the words Minho had shouted over Kang’s, the almost wistful smile on his face as he let the guards drag him from the room. The coroner had been a wildcard, you thought uneasily, your gut churning with a cocktail of anticipation and anxiety. There was no telling which way the trial would go from here.

“Does the prosecution have any other witnesses?” The judge called out, and you saw Jeongin finally stand up. Words and whispers began flying as he made his way forward to the witness box, the citizens recognising the delivery boy immediately. You glanced over at Kang, who looked more relaxed than ever — and you knew why. Everything from Jisung’s camcorder footage to Jeongin’s salvaged Walkman tapes had either been confiscated by the prosecution, or were in Seungmin’s hands. Kang had been meticulous making sure that the younger prosecutor had no power over the case, banning him from interfering with the investigation for good.

Which meant that all Jeongin had to sway the jury was his own verbal testimony. One young boy’s word against Prosecutor Kang’s.

“State your name and status.”

“Yang Jeongin. Um, student at Miroh Heights University.”

Kang looked down at his papers, then back up at the judge. “On the night of the Yellow Wood attacks, Yang Jeongin was biking home after closing shift before he was brutally attacked by the defendant with a blow to the skull. He is the only living witness that has come forward to testify, and the only person who witnessed the defendant’s attack firsthand. Luckily, he was able to regain consciousness after the horrific attack.” He turned towards Jeongin, smiling triumphantly. “What he has to say may well turn the entire case upside down.”

He was clearly expecting Jeongin to give away evidence against Jisung, you realised. After they had told Jeongin that his tapes had been withdrawn from the investigation, the delivery boy had hit a dead end in his testimony. No matter what he said, Kang would be able to find a way to use it against Jisung. Sure enough, he was watching the young boy now like a vulture, ready to pick him apart.

But Jeongin only smiled back at Kang. “Actually, it’s not what I have to say, sir.” When the prosecutor’s face contorted in confusion, Jeongin continued, “It’s the things that you’ve said.”

Before Kang could reply, Jeongin reached into his pocket and pulled out something silver. The guards instantly moved forward, but Jeongin set it onto the clerk’s table, motioning for him to take it. After several moments, the low crackle of speakers connecting began filling the tense silence, and you realised what it was that Jeongin had brought with him.

A voice recorder.

“He didn’t tell anyone to make sure it wouldn’t get confiscated, too,” Chan realised, eyes widening. “Smart kid. But what could he have possibly recor—”

The detective’s awed voice was drowned out by a recording of another very familiar voice.

“Kim Seungmin. As you may have heard, the serial killer — ah, the Han Jisung case, I could say — has been transferred to me.”

Prosecutor Kang.

The room froze. When you looked at Kang, you saw that all the blood had drained from his face.

“Now, now — don’t feel too ashamed, Kim. Everyone makes rookie mistakes. They may have assigned the wrong case to you, but rest assured — it’s in proper hands now.”

“Is it?”

You winced, peeking at Seungmin beside you when you heard his voice on the recording as well. Seungmin had never mentioned the way Kang treated him to anyone, and the younger prosecutor’s jaw was clenched, but his eyes were blazing.

Still, you weren’t exactly sure why Jeongin was playing a recording of Kang and Seungmin’s conversation. What could he have possibly overheard, that made him look so confident now?

“Have something to say to me, Kim?”

“I’ve just — never understood the way you handled cases, sir.”

“Seungmin.” You could almost see the condescending look on Kang’s face. “Allow me to share a word of advice. They won’t teach you this in law school.”

Seungmin watched realisation flash across Kang’s face like he had been struck by lightning, but it was too late.

“Your job as a prosecutor is not to judge the defendant fairly.”

“Wh—”

“If you want a smooth career...all you need to do is make sure you’re appealing to the right people. In other words, listen to what the public wants. Please the public; don’t waste a single damn about the defendant. You spent all your precious time worrying your little head over the killer’s motives, and now that we finally have him, you’re still worrying over the severity of his sentence? Murder is murder, Kim Seungmin, and actions speak louder than motives. You can show lenience towards a mass-murderer, or you can sweep his sorry past under the rug and bring closure to dozens of families. Which would make you a richer, more popular man?”

“Your Honour,” Kang stammered, face white, “This is—improper use of evidence, this shouldn’t—” The recording cut him off again, the judge’s face stony as she motioned for the clerk to keep going.

“Is that how you got to where you are?”

“Think, boy. As far as anyone needs to be concerned, the cold-blooded killer is caught, peace is re-established, families are soothed, justice is served once again — and I come out the hero. You saw that boy’s wretched past. Even he can’t handle it. So why poke at wounds that aren’t meant to be re-opened?”

You didn’t realise how hard you were clenching your fists until you felt your palms sting from your nails. The entire room seemed to be holding its breath. Kang looked stricken, pale mouth opening and closing frantically like a fish out of water, but no words were coming out.

“You think you’re being kind? Justice isn’t meant to be kind, Kim. Make up the easiest case to solve, and do everyone a favour.”

The judge stopped the tape, her face livid. The room had gone deadly silent, your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. ““Your job as a prosector is not to judge the defendant fairly?””

Kang could only shake his head wildly as she continued, raising her voice, ““Make up the easiest case to solve, and do everyone a favour?” From a faulty forensics expert to this — Prosecutor Kang, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Your Honour, I—” Kang sputtered out, beady eyes darting around furiously — at Jisung, and at Jeongin. “L-lies! It’s all lies, this is absurd!” He laughed, trying to make himself sound nonchalant, but his voice was weak. “This must be a—a fabrication perpetrated by the defendant—” The room was erupting in chaos now, the jury and reporters bickering amongst themselves.

You had never seen the prosecutor so worked up before as he continued to protest frantically, “Your Honour, the defendant must have coerced the victim to do this, to—to frame me. Please listen to me, we must conduct another investigation—”

There was a deafening bang as the Judge slammed the gavel down, making the room jump. “There will be no investigation,” she thundered. “Prosecutor Kang, you are hereby removed from the Han Jisung case.”

Kang leapt up from his seat as officers appeared on either side of the prosecutor, seizing his thrashing arms. “Let go of me! Your Honour! Your Honour, you cannot do this. Han Jisung must be condemned — you cannot let this murderer walk free—”

“Silence!” The judge bellowed, and the last of Kang’s words were drowned out, the heavy oak doors banging shut as he was thrown from the room. Jeongin looked evidently shaken. He had been right. His last existing recording — the unlikely trump card — had flipped the case on its head. You heard frenzied whispers all around you as your heartbeat pounded erratically in your chest.

“Does this mean the prosecutor’s been fabricating all the evidence? Who can we trust now?”

“I’ve never seen a case like this before.”

“What’s going to happen to the trial now that the lead prosecutor’s been detained?”

The banging of the gavel eventually brought the restless audience to a strained silence. The Judge looked weary. “We need to take an emergency intermission. The trial...will recommence shortly.”

━━━━━━━━

You let the sea of people push you through the courtroom’s double doors, your legs threatening to collapse at any moment. Outside was hardly a breath of fresh air — all around you, cameras were flashing, reporters were gossiping, and officials were arguing. You tried to focus — to process what had happened, but the incessant buzzing of people chattering around you made your head pound so hard you swore your skull was splitting.

A firm hand on your shoulder yanked you out of your migraine, and you whipped around to see Hyunjin. You let out a small sigh of relief.

“Hey, it might be good to get out of this crowd for a bit,” Hyunjin said, taking in your exhausted expression worriedly. “I, uh, lost everyone, but if we step outside—”

Before he could finish, you both caught sight a blond head bobbing towards you in the sea of people. Felix pushed through, cradling his camera for dear life. His freckled face was sweaty and breathless.

“Kang—Kang’s lost all power,” he gasped out when he reached you. “Detective Bang’s managed to convince the guards to let him talk to Jisung for a few minutes—”

You had already seized your best friend by the shoulders and spun him around. He instantly got the message and the three of you began elbowing through the hordes of people, Felix leading the way.

The clamour died down to a quiet hum as you reached the hallways, Felix ushering you past an OFF-LIMITS sign. The corridors were nearly empty now, and the three of you sprinted to the end until you reached a heavy oak door. It was slightly ajar. You caught a glimpse of Jisung’s expressionless face through the dim crack, and your hand hesitated on the door handle.

“I told you and Woojin I wouldn’t give you any counter evidence.” Jisung’s voice was cold and lifeless.

“And you didn’t.” You could hear the growing agitation in Chan’s voice as the detective pleaded. “But you’ve got to listen to me. More people want you — need you — to keep living, more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Stop, Chan. You don’t have to do this anymore—”

“Han Jisung.” You couldn’t help his name falling from your lips, voice louder than you’d intended as you threw open the heavy door. The guards rushed to block you before you could get any closer, but you pushed back, forcing Jisung to meet your eyes. His were flat, dark, horribly cold.

“y/n,” he replied softly, and you felt your heart break.

“Why are you doing this?” You fought to keep your voice steady. “You have the right to speak for yourself. Defend yourself. You know what they’re saying isn’t true. So why are you letting them keep accusing you?”

“How do you know it isn’t true?” Jisung laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to yourself. I did kill all those people, and you know that.”

“I do. But you’re not the psychopath Kang is making you out to be,” you protested. “I know you.”

“You don’t.” Jisung’s voice was bitter. “You don’t, actually. I’ve always — always hidden parts of myself from you. What you’re hearing from Kang is the closest you’ll ever get. He — he knows me better than I know myself.” He smiled weakly, but it fell flat. “I’ve always been like this, drawn to murder and blood and fire. It can’t be fixed.”

Each one of his words pierced through you like bullets, and you searched his face frantically for a sign, anything left of the rain-drenched, smiling boy from the diner; the wounded, soft-hearted boy you had fallen in love with. Your heart was hammering in your throat as a horrible question echoed through your head.

Did he mean it?

It was as if Jisung had pulled on a mask, you thought. His face was absolutely still — but for a fleeting moment, you could swear you saw a flash of pain

No.

You had grown to know him, grown to know that he was the kind of boy who was willing to play the part of a depraved monster, just so you would push him away first.

Jisung stared back at you, and for once, the darkness in his wide eyes no longer scared you. Instead, endless memories were flashing through your mind.

Jisung making you laugh until you choked on Chinese food, and apologising profusely for hours afterwards.

Jisung spilling pancake batter all over your kitchen counter, and feeding you blueberries to make sure you didn’t notice.

Jisung, holding you in his arms until you fell asleep, hands as gentle as if he thought you were made of glass.

“You need to go,” Jisung broke your long silence. “Stop hurting yourself. You need to let me go.”

You looked up, taking in his slumped shoulders, the note of defeat in his voice, the facade he had pulled on during the trial, and everything hit you all at once. Maybe it was the stress of the weeks leading up to trial or your hatred towards Kang had finally reached its breaking point. Either way, an overwhelming feeling of sheer frustration was washing away the anxiety that had been thrumming in your veins for weeks, and it left in its place an unbearable, burning anger.

You felt yourself push past the guards as if in slow motion, a voice in your head telling you that maybe this wasn’t the best idea — and slapped your boyfriend across the face.

The slap wasn’t hard, but the sound that rang through the room felt deafening.

“Han Jisung, you are such an idiot,” you yelled. Guards immediately surrounded you, dragging you backwards, but you didn’t take your eyes off Jisung. He was staring at you, stunned, the stone-cold facade he had put on earlier now cracked wide open. “What do you think you’re solving this way? Do you know how many people have been working nonstop to make sure you don’t get yourself killed?” You could feel hot tears of frustration spilling onto your cheeks. “Your friends want you to stay alive. Your mother wanted you to stay alive. I need you to stay alive.” Your voice was hoarse as you screamed over the guards pushing you out of the room, and the heavy door swung shut with a deafening bang.

The silence in the hallway seemed to swallow you up, the weight of what you had just said and done crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. You felt your knees finally buckle as you sank to the ground, burying your face in your arms and finally letting all your pent-up tears fall freely.

Hyunjin and Felix were by your side, exchanging worried looks as they patted your back gingerly. You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stayed like that, your exhausted body racking with frustrated, mortified sobs, until you heard footsteps running down the corridor towards you.

“There you are— I’ve been looking for you guys for—” Kim Woojin’s breathless voice made you look up, and the captain did a double take. “Bloody hell, what happened?”

You wiped your reddened eyes furiously as Felix shook his head at the police captain, who was kind enough to take the hint.

“The thing is —” Woojin began again, tripping over his words. It was the first time you had seen the police captain so frantic. “It’s — it’s an emergency situation right now. A mistrial. The head prosecutor’s been thrown off the case, people are rioting—”

“This is a fucking mess,” Hyunjin muttered, but Woojin shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” the police captain exclaimed excitedly, “Not for us. They’re calling for a prosecutor who’s familiar with Jisung’s case to step up, asap. If there’s any prosecutor who was also working on the case—”

As if on cue, the intercom buzzed above you, making you jolt. “The court hearing for Han Jisung and Miroh Heights Murders will be resuming in five minutes. All attorneys, jurors, and participants of the trial, please report to the courtroom immediately—”

“Seungmin,” you, Felix, and Hyunjin all said simultaneously, and Woojin nodded. Felix was already pulling you to your feet, and the four of you broke into a run towards the courtroom.

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