#anyway this chapter is WAY more lit that i thought it'd be

[boinin]

I'm ignoring any further slander of the Ubers match

this chapter, istg

like

this guy

this guy

these 👏👏👏 guys

also

YOU'RE ONE TO TALK

WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR TEAM

[turtlebra1nrot]

Third Time's A Charm

Johnathon Ohnn (I/ATSV) x You

The first three times you met up with Johnathon for your project, they were more than pleasant. The fourth time was complete and sudden hell. And the fifth was, unexpectedly, nothing short of libidinous.

CHAPTER 1/6: PARTNERS...

A choir of groans and sighs filled the lecture hall after the professor's thoroughly voiced announcement of their new project having to be done in pairs.

"Yeah, moan and whine all you want. You're adults. You're gonna have human interaction anyway, suck it up." The professor responded sluggishly to the class's verbal distaste. You didn't particularly mind, however. In fact you'd hoped for this. Work had been piled up for you lately and you thought maybe having someone to help with a major assignment might do you some good.

Partners were selected by surname. The professor went down the roster while roving leisurely around the lecture hall at the same time. They came to a stop at the left side of the table where you were seated, looking at them expectantly. "You're withhhh— oh." The professor's tone was still laced with boredom but a hint of bewilderment seemed to weasel its way in. A few mutters left their parted lips. "...only one left? I'm sure I called of you..." their last string of words found your ear.

After more awkward silence from the class and professor, their eyes lit up. "Ah, I missed one. You." They call, swiveling at 180 degrees to lock eyes with someone else. A messy tuft of brown hair pulled into a low-ponytail shifted a bit in your field of vision. Then a pair of squared glasses and brown, doe eyes followed. "Ohnn. You're with them, alright? Alright." The professor then simply walks back to their desk at the front of the hall just as the intercom goes off, signifying the end of the class. Students exchange numbers, emails, socials — while you watch your own partner from afar.

You knew it'd be courteous to get up on your own two feet and go introduce yourself. But you waited to see if the guy'd come to you.

He didn't.

Ohnn sat there, head practically buried in his notes. You wouldn't be surprised if he was actually making out with that damn paper. But it was clear he wouldn't come to greet you any time soon. So with a twinge of exasperation, you huff — pushing yourself up from your seat — and walk over to the table in the third row while leaning your palms against its smooth oak wood.

"Hey." You spoke up. He nearly flew with the way he jumped back in surprise. Jesus, he's tense.

His brown eyes seem to almost bulge out of his head as he eyes you with shock, glasses slipping down the bridge of his straight nose unnoticeably. Despite the initial shock of his flinch, he attempted to gather a few words. Though he stumbled over his own tongue, "Wh- I — d-did you....need something?" Ohnn murmurs. It's like he wasn't used to being acknowledged or something. You let a smile fall upon your lips and stifle a chuckle, "Looks like we're partners, Ohnn."

The look on the guy's face voiced pure confusion but he did not protest. He was quiet again before shutting his college-rule notebook, "Looks like it..." he uttered feebly while seeming to give you a once-over. Johnathon could feel your eyes studying him as well in the silence and he hated it. He hadn't really been paying all that much attention during the lecture, so he unfortunately gained a partner who he hardly knew. As if he knew anyone other than his own family in the first place. The young man stood from his seat and that was when you could read him more clearly.

Johnathon seemed to fold in on himself as he stood. Arms tightly pressed to his sides, legs together, posture extremely informal, etc. Even with his stature he was like a frail dog, unable to hold eye contact for too long and keeping himself at a low profile. He seemed to make himself appear small. It made you feel kind of bad. No wonder he was so tense...

"You want my number? I'll text you my dorm and we can get started whenever, no pressure." It was like a bid with him. Convincing him to visit your place so you could both work. You could easily tell he might feel unease at the idea, so you kept it plain and simple for him. Johnathon steadily breathed in spite of his racing heart. He wasn't good with making plans with others because he'd get sidetracked and forget about them. He'd feel terrible to do that for a first impression. "Yeah, we could do that...if you'd like, that is. I don't wanna like, force you to do it o-or whatever—" "Dude. I offered. No need to worry." You try to reassure him with words and a smile. A croaky laugh left his lips as he realized he had been on the verge of an apologetic ramble, "Right. Sorry."

"You're good, Ohnn." You reaffirm your previous words. Johnathon nods whilst bending down to grasp the handle of his tote-bag, stuffing his notes carelessly inside. Once up straight (or as straight as he normally stood), he speaks again, "Hey, I don't mind being called Johnathon or John. I think Ohnn's a little formal since we're, y'know— partners?"

Johnathon looks down at the person before him with careful eyes, trying to gauge their reaction. He hoped that statement wasn't too forward. He never really knew when to keep things casual or professional so he always just assumed. God, what if that was too much for them? Did he really have to say that? Maybe they could just call him Ohnn, it's not a big deal—

"Sure thing."

Your response was simple. He hadn't gotten the stink eye like he'd thought he would. Johnathon's smile is sheepish when he clears his throat and hesitantly nods. He didn't always have conversations longer than 20 seconds. Talking with you had been a breath of fresh air for him and he couldn't tell if the churning in his belly was excitement, anxiety, or joy.

He exchanged numbers with you before departing from the lecture hall and moving onto his next class. He had a math exam that period and with the boost of morale from last period, he felt somewhat prepared.

[aingeal98]

hello hello! i saw your post and need your thoughts and verdict (hypothetically) for yhk in the last chapter. what would yjh and hsy do once kdj woke up, what if he never woke up and remains unreachable to them after all the effort?

thoughts on doksoo/ joongdok centric and which (poignant) scene makes a neuron lit up and go ah, them. and makes you go crazy, like, every single scene might as well an orpheus and eurydice-d, such as that "cancel your skill, kim dokja"

DHGFVJDFGV sorry you're just such a joy to read on the tags as you go through the story on tumblr since the yhk tags are most often then not, lifeless

Aaaaa thank you for this it's a fun ask! :D

Personally I believe Dokja woke up. Both because I want a happy ending for them and because I wouldn't put it past yoohan to track down and kill everyone who read orv and imagined a sad ending. But also I think him waking up is only the first step. There's no way things aren't complicated afterwards because Dokja will feel guilty for putting his friends through the trauma of losing him and his friends will try and convince him that he deserves love and they don't mind but at the same time the trauma is real and it's there. So it's going to be a long road to helping him forgive himself even if they all have done so already.

I feel like YJH would be pushy at first. Like this is the guy who became a terrorist rather than try therapy. He wants to find meaning through Dokja, to ask Dokja how he's supposed to live now, and that's a lot of pressure that none of the others will want to fall on Dokja's shoulders. Which I think will be good for HSY because it let's her fall into the comfortable zone of yelling at YJH for being terrible at expressing himself and ignoring her own terrible emotions as much as possible in the mean time. So I kind of see it like:

YJH & HSY: Screaming clawing kicking biting each other outside the hospital because HSY thinks YJH is being too pushy with Dokja and YJH thinks he's helping both of them by asking Dokja for guidance and HSY is getting in the way of his recovery.

Sangah, calmly pouring herself and Dokja tea inside his hospital room: So I spoke to your mother today and she'll be here soon! Oh don't worry about those two they'll probably only break a few bones.

But then if he never did wake up... I don't think either of them would be able to truly move on. I think they'd keep hoping that he would get better and the longer he doesn't the more the likelihood grows that one of them snaps and comes up with another reckless life threatening plan to increase the odds of his recovery. I'm not sure what it'd be but I like to think HSY is the one that snaps first this time. Just goes up to YJH like "hey are you ready for me to subject you to more horrendous torment for the slim tiny chance that it could make Dokja wake up" and YJH is like "naturally".

Whether they actually succeed or whether their plan is so terrible and hopeless that Sangah has to step in and force them to accept he's gone (an impossible task but she'll push them as close to the acceptance stage of grief as she possibly can.) I'm not sure. Either way it'd be fun to read about. I haven't looked into the side stories yet but I'm curious if they might make me change my mind about any of this. For now this is how I imagine it going down anyways.

Doksoo are insane and they consume my every waking thought. Reading the webtoon after the novel is so crazy because HSY really shows up as this random villain and no one including her has any idea that she's one of the three most important people in the universe. Like she's just a little fella. A prankster who's pranks sometimes involve murder. And the way she and Dokja are so unimpressed by each other and have no idea how much they'll end up loving each other... I feel like rereading any early doksoo interaction is going to come with extra loud clown music like even Dokja calling her a plagiarist and Sooyoung being like ugh you're such a cliche like oh you dumbasses. You have no idea.

I enjoyed both doksoo and joongdok's early banter a lot like it always added a ton of energy into every scene. But the moments it really clicked for me was the whole reincarnation island arc for doksoo. Like reading his narration about Sooyoung it's like ohhhh my god he's down bad. He's as in love as I am. He doesn't even realise it but he is so enamoured by her. Like that was the moment I could see the potential for them to become as important to each other as they did. The foundation and foreshadowing was done so well, not one bit of their relationship progression felt unearned.

And then for joongdok I think it was their divorce era that really got me on board. Like they were fun in the early stages but once Dokja is convinced there's no going back and is actually emotionally vulnerable and honest with YJH and YJH gets to vent his own frustrations about being nothing more than a character... It really solidified their bond for me. It brought Dokja down to YJH's level rather than the reader he was trying to be to YJH's character. Plus we get HSY dying and traumatising Dokja for once instead of the reverse. It's what they deserve.

Also punisher and transfem YJH and everything that's implied in the novel and how that would add to to her dynamics with doksoo. Haven't gotten any solid thoughts on that yet but the concept is slowly taking a grip on me.

So yeah after the reincarnation island arc I was so fully on board with this ot3 and every single Orpheus moment that followed hit right into my heart.

Sorry this is so long and barely scratches the surface alsjsjdhdh. I'm still processing everything but man. What a story. What a trio. Wretched mirror soulmates with toxic codependency my beloveds.

[purpleqilinwrites]

these unfamiliar intimacies: chapter one.

a/n: i've had this fic on the brain for a while, so i'm super excited to have the first chapter out!

fandom: jujutsu kaisen

character: nanami kento

genre: eventual fluff (can read as either platonic or romantic at this point)

info: cyberpunk 2077 au; afab reader; reader is a ripperdoc; nanami is a merc

warnings: mentions of a suicide attempt (unsuccessful); mentions of injury

chapter synopsis: it's the first time gojou has personally hauled in a merc for you to fix.

word count: 2.1k

companion fic to "the body is a soft animal".

fic masterlist is here.

one

You emerged from the operating room, having discarded your soiled surgical gown and gloves, and it was dark again. The surgery went on for longer than you anticipated, even with Ieiri's help for the critical first hour or so. You let out a yawn, stretching your arms high above your head and relishing the way some of the tension in your body unfurled itself before slipping away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Gojou seated at your workstation with his chin on crossed arms and it struck you as atypical behaviour. Given some freedom, he almost always preferred to be tinkering with something or talking to someone. When he was in your clinic, he'd more than likely be found chatting up the talking vending machine he believed he stole from outside Kamo Tower rather than sitting down quietly and looking wistful.

"Seems like everything went well," Gojou said, without looking at you and without lifting his head.

His eyes were fixed on one of the two blank monitors in front of him. When he was in one of his more contemplative moods, you've proven to yourself that it was better to let him bounce his thoughts off you than ignore him. There was always less collateral damage when you indulged him.

You gave a hum of affirmation as you walked past him to the wall-mounted control panel across the room. Tapping on the screen, you selected some apple juice over ice for yourself and a sugary matcha milkshake topped with sweetened red beans for him.

"You're not usually this concerned about the mercs you hire," you said, coming closer to him so you wouldn't have to speak so loudly. "Does this one have a particular deficiency you forgot to disclose to me before surgery?" You pulled your swivel chair away from the corner of the room that Gojou had banished it to, and you took a seat beside him.

One of your service androids entered the room with two mugs before anything more was said. You picked up your drink with both hands, and you waited.

"Nothing of the sort," he said, coming alive as he beheld the shiny red beans crowning the green milkshake. When it came to Gojou, there were only a few moody episodes that an excessively sweetened matcha drink couldn't alleviate to some extent. For that, you were grateful.

He sat up to make a grab for his drink too eagerly. Slurping away, a good portion of the milkshake was on its way to his stomach before you put the straw of your own drink into your mouth. After a rather loud show of his appreciation when he came to the bottom of his mug, he said, "Nanami's one of the better mercs, is all. It'd be a pity if I lost him."

Gojou got up to place an order for a refill, and promptly sat himself back down. "Just for your information, he's the badge who talked my mother down when she tried to jump from the roof of our commercial building in Toranomon," he said, his dark sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

His Kiroshis lit up when he blinked; he paused in his little briefing about the merc you just operated on, tilting his face away from you slightly, as he took a call. You waited, sipping leisurely on your apple juice and wiping at the condensation that had formed all over the outside of your mug.

"Anyway!" Gojou's voice cut into your silent juice-drinking session. It must've been someone working under him in his corp on the other end of the call, since he made sure it took up as little of his time as possible. "When I first saw Nanami in the Limitless a couple of years ago, I immediately had it in mind to quickhack him from across the bar area. Thought he was there to arrest me. Turns out he became a merc! He's been doing gigs for me ever since."

As he spoke, it was you who came to the end of your drink. You set the now empty mug on a coaster to your right. "Then I hope, for your sake, that it's entirely worth it," you said. A service android brought in another matcha milkshake for him, and he scooped the mug up from their hands as if he hadn't yet had his first.

A long string of numbers flashed at the corner of your periphery. "Keep it, Satoru," you said, quickly transferring the same amount of money back to him. "It was an informative surgery, and that's a reward on its own. You know how high-risk procedures are rare to come by as a corporate ripperdoc."

Gojou frowned into his drink, and he pushed the tip of the straw out of his mouth with his tongue to further affirm his displeasure. "Can't I leave a tip for my best friend? Just take it," he said, the bottom of his mug giving a dull thud from the force of him putting it down on your workstation. You shook your head, and his frown deepened.

"You may waive my rent for this clinic for an equivalent amount, but I won't take your money," you said, turning away from him to check the time. The mechanical clock hanging on the far wall told you that you still had time for a nap before your next work appointment.

"Fine," he said, unnecessarily drawing out the word.

He was squinting at you with his face mostly turned away, as if biding his time before he expected you to give in and accept his payment. You were familiar with his patterns the same way he was familiar with yours; this never worked, but he always tried it.

"Rate the success of the surgery you just did," he said, and it was the end of the show. This exchange normally included more back and forths. He had never expressed even an iota of uneasiness about any merc that he brought to you for fixing. For the vast majority of the mercs he employed, his confidence in your ability was as absolute as the fact that the sun rose every morning. This one merc called Nanami was special to him in a way you didn't yet understand. Gojou had personally rushed the collected parts of the guy to your clinic, even if he was quite apparently past the flatlining stage, which was an anomaly in itself.

Even Ieiri had been called on to better the chance of this Nanami's resuscitation and subsequent survival. It surprised you when you caught sight of her hurrying in through automatic sliding doors behind Gojou. In all the years he poured into moonlighting as a fixer, he had never done that for anyone.

Gojou was not a person who freely assigned a value to the lives of other people. You knew that. He knew how well you knew this.

You set your elbow down on your workstation and leaned your cheek into an upturned palm. "Successful for now, in spite of the odds against it. However, further monitoring is needed to confirm his survival. Right now there's no way of ascertaining how well his body will accept all the cybernetic implants I've installed," you said, watching him and seeing that he was trying not to squirm. You were treating this Nanami with equal importance as any other person who came to you with Gojou's referral. Gojou obviously didn't appreciate it.

"I'll monitor him carefully," you said, giving in after seeing that he was starting to pick needlessly at the hair on the back of his neck. "Give him time to recover. If he doesn't, then you may do with the body in accordance with the terms stipulated in his contract in the event of incapacitation caused by an event on the job."

He exhaled with a small nod, looking as weary as if he had been the one in the operating room for the better part of the day instead of you. "Here's hoping," he said.

You followed the line of his gaze to the control panel on the far side of the room. Tapping on his knee to get his attention, you gestured to the screen when he looked up from his hands. "I'll have some souffle cheesecake brought in," you said.

Gojou was bouncing his leg in his seat when you sat down again. Immediately after you scooted closer to your workstation, he wilted over the surface of it, crossing his arms and burying his head in the space between them. Knowing that he was working through his thoughts by himself, you reached over to pat absentmindedly at his shoulder. He responded with an unintelligible groan, before he turned his head to look at you.

You waited for him to speak.

"What's special about him?" you asked instead, leaning out of the way when your service android came to take the three empty mugs on your workstation away for washing. "You've hired your share of capable mercs. They all make mistakes at some point, whether on a gig they accepted from you or not. You know this."

The door clicked shut as the service android left the room. Gojou hadn't yet graced you with an answer.

It was still dark outside. You still had time for a nap. The thought of it became more tempting, seeing as you had a question and your partner in conversation was loath to give a response to it. One glance at the clock, and you decided that you'd rather leave him to himself for a bit.

You stood up with the intention of excusing yourself to get some rest when Gojou captured your wrist, pulling on you. He pointed to your swivel chair with his other hand, and so you sat down again.

"I was the one who made the mistake that cost him everything you had to do in there," was how he started. He released your wrist to point to the door that led to the hallway where the operating room was. You didn't bother to turn around to give him some room away from your gaze.

He snatched at his sunglasses that had been sitting askew on his nose, and the pair of them clattered unceremoniously onto your workstation. "That Militech higher-up wasn't supposed to be there. Nanami was already in the position to klep the hard drive when I found out a VIP from their head office would be dropping by for a demo."

So that's what it was. It was never about the merc who was on the job; it was about him.

You reached over to the discarded sunglasses and folded them up nicely, pushing them across the space between the two of you only to stop a finger's width short of where he had planted his elbow. Gojou scoffed at the worthlessness of your action, but you took no offence. He hated making mistakes and the only thing he hated more than that was admitting them, so you let him have a little tantrum.

It was still dark outside when you saw his shoulders fall the slightest bit, and you counted it as a win.

"What's on that hard drive?" you asked, testing the waters in the wake of his fit of self-directed frustration. There was a tightening in the muscles of Gojou's jaw, and you were grateful that he was vain enough to insist on keeping his face predominantly organic. He'd be near impossible to read if he decided he wanted to trade whatever flesh was above his neck for chrome. It was one of the things that since you'd spent a fair amount of time studying it, you strongly preferred it if it stayed the same.

He slumped into the backrest of the chair he was sitting on, hoisted into your office from your makeshift living area upstairs. "Militech's been developing some ICE meant for military use. It's got a shiny and new machine learning algorithm that's performed much better than any I've ever seen," he said, idling away some time by spinning around in his swivel chair. "People in netrunning circles have been talking about a breakthrough like that for years, but no one's managed to get anything useful out of all that talking. Until now."

You picked up his sunglasses and set them on his face for him, and it almost pulled a smile onto his lips. "You can make what they've got better," you said, holding his face with both of your hands and resisting the urge to squeeze.

Gojou smiled this time, bright enough that the shadows hanging on beneath his eyes seemed to disappear. "Good-looking and sexy-brained netrunner like me can definitely manage it. Just you wait."

[kintrash413]

Chapter 3 of my socialstuck.exe fic is out! excerpt below the cut:

Wikipedia picked up Greentext with a sigh. it tilted its head at him innocuously. did it know it was the last surviving snoo? did it realize that only Reddit knew how to take care of them, and this one only survived through 4Chans repeated trial and error efforts? 

"don't you also know how to maintain them?" Ao3 asked. 

"no, I… think you're thinking of Fanwiki." 

"what happened to her?" 

Wiki bristled. "I don't wanna talk about it." 

"oh." 

this was hardly the time to get pissed at her , who was hopefully and probably dead. they were supposed to be grieving. though, it was pretty hard to grieve over 4Chan. she hardly deserved to get corrupted, but he didn't know her well enough to miss her. and what he did know of her was largely unpleasant. 

the last of Reddit's legacy dying would be pretty depressing, though. 

"I think I'll keep this guy in my room until he runs out of battery," Wikipedia decided, tucking Greentext under his arm. 

He looked around the room, mostly empty now and just in need of cleaning. Kik promised to do just that later, and Amino would probably move in whenever it got here. 

"Is that everything?" Ao3 asked, and after a moment Wikipedia left the room. 

"did they really not say anything?" Wikipedia asked as they travelled to his room. "neither 4Chan nor YouTube had anything to say in all that time you were down there?" 

but once again, Ao3 shook his head. 

how were they supposed to properly update their pages if he didn't even have any last words to go off of? 

Wikipedia wracked his own head for anything 4Chan might've said before leaving, but she had a tendency to get up and leave without a word and no one had thought much of it in years. if they knew that would be the last time seeing her un-corrupted, would someone have said anything? 

The thought made Wikipedia feel sad and weird , so he dismissed it. "Wait," he remembered suddenly. "didn't she keep a journal?" 

"yeah…" Ao3 admitted reluctantly. "But, it's practically illegible by her own admission." 

Wikipedia plopped Greentext down on their bed before making a 360 out to make his way downstairs. "Ao3, I'm a linguistics expert, I can read anything." 

the room downstairs was, for a change, somewhat lit by a dying campfire. the place was covered in neon red and green blood, most still fresh. 

YouTubes corpse had been dragged off by Kik a bit ago, and of course 4Chan- or, her corruption anyway, had been hastily locked out the safehouse. the scratching at the door had stopped a few hours ago. 

the journal he found near the campfire, opened to a page near the middle. after picking it up and trying to read it for a few seconds he could already feel a headache coming on. he could translate this, for sure, but it'd take time and more aspirin than he had on hand right now. 

still, the straightforward task cleared his head a little of the confused grief. 

[moonchildstyles]

neglect

harrys in an unhappy marriage and didn't realize he was missing so much sunlight until y/n came in

cw: toxic relationship? idk harry's wife isn't nice:(

wordcount: 13.5k+

—————

"Bye, honey. Love you." 

Harry didn't realize he had his hopes up for a reciprocated response until nothing came. Minerva left though the door with nothing more than a wave tossed over her shoulder, eyes glued to her phone with a smile that wasn't for him on her lips. He didn't know the last time she said I love you back.

Heaving a sigh that lifted his shoulders before deflating into a slump, Harry locked the front door after his wife as the start of his day alone. 

It'd been two weeks since he lost his job in the third round of layoffs his office (ex-office?) was going through. It had been heartbreaking for Harry, having given almost a decade of his life—he was just months short of his ten year anniversary, actually—to this job; having given up on his dreams, and sacrificing time with his family all throughout those years. It all had been thrown away after one bad investor's meeting, leaving him with a measly severance package and a generic goodbye card left on his desk on his last day. As if that day couldn't get any lower, when Minerva finally came home and Harry sat her down to tell her the news, she barely looked up from the ping that lit up her phone screen. 

"That's what happens when you stay with a failing company, Harry. You should have been paying more attention." 

With that, she had left him to sit alone at the dining room table, his head in his hands as he tried not to let tears fall from his eyes. She always said he was too sensitive, crying would only serve to make her more annoyed with him.

Since then, he had all day long to shop around his resume online and through networking channels, only to field rejection emails by the end of the day. Minerva offered no support, only giving small hums or "I told you so" when she bothered to answer at all when he told her about his day over dinner. It broke his heart. 

While their marriage hadn't been anything close to perfect for a very long time (Harry didn't think it really ever had been, the more he thought about it), this was the worst it'd ever been. Minerva was always the harder one out of the two of them, which worked for a long time. It was all about balance, Harry remembered thinking back when they first moved in together after getting engaged. He was the soft one that cried watching romantic movies, and she was the one that would scoff at the logistics and talk about how unrealistic the stories were. She preferred horror with unhappy endings.

It worked, until it didn't.

Something changed after those first months of living together. Since then, Harry had been trying to play catch-up to get on the same page as her, but she seemed to be chapters ahead by the time he was even going in the right direction. His degree was never good enough, his dreams of being a songwriter or music producer were too silly to even entertain, and his family didn't support them enough. By the time he realized Minerva didn't even like him much anymore, let alone love him, he was left with a broken heart. 

But, even when he suggested counseling or even one of those couple's retreats that offered hands-on help, she shut him down immediately. That was all hippie shit he should have grown out of after they graduated college, she told him. It was her that brought up divorce, the word that had all but split Harry in half when it hung in the air between them, only for her to shut it down and tell him it wasn't an option as far as she was concerned—it would look bad for her to be a divorcee while she was still trying to climb the corporate ladder. Maybe after she made it to the executive level, she mused, if he still felt this way anyway. 

Harry did the only thing he felt he could: pretend everything was normal. If he wanted any chance of not losing his mind, sinking into a depression that he feared he would be unable to climb out of, he had to fall into the motions of loving her. He woke her up with breakfast ready before they'd leave for work—before he lost his job, of course—, telling her goodbye with a kiss to the cheek and hollow declaration of love that he still felt hurt by every time he didn't hear her say it back. When he made it home before her, he'd clean up the house, sorting through bills and mail, and get dinner ready, giving himself just enough time to slip back into his steeled character by the time she came through the front door and ignored him. 

But, Harry had always told himself it could be much worse—he was still lucky in some senses of the word, even if some nights he had to search hard for those moments—, and right he was about that. He was currently living through the worst it had ever been, moping around the house and feeling more down on himself than he knew was healthy for the fragile grip he had on his composure. 

As anxiety inducing as it all was (was finding a job always this hard or was he really as unimpressive as Minerva said he was?), the free time did allow him to work on projects he'd pushed to the side in favor of his nine-to-five. The attic had been successfully cleaned out and reorganized for the first time since moving in, the walls in the basement finally painted the eggshell blue Minerva picked out years ago, and the garage was spic-and-span. The last couple of days, he'd dedicated his time to maintaining the garden out front as well as the backyard, something he'd found himself enjoying more than any of the previous items on the honey-do list he was working through. His mom had always loved gardening, so he felt a lot closer to home when he plodded through the soil with fresh sprouts. 

After spending the first hour of the morning sending out his resume to a fleet of job postings and rifling through his email in hopes of getting anything back about a possible interview, he got changed for his day in the sun. He picked a white tank top with red stitching on the side declaring him as loved (though he didn't always feel that way) to adorn his torso with a pair of black shorts covering his thighs though his knee tattoos were left on display. Pulling his hair back with a tiny clip that left a sprout of hair fluffed on the top of his head, Harry slipped on a pair of large burgundy sunglasses before heading out the front door. 

Headphones plugged in his ears, he grabbed his supplies he'd left on the porch, fitting his hands into the pair of sturdy gloves he'd dug out when he cleaned the garage. Along the porch railing was the row of flowers he planned on shoveling into the soil, their planters barely containing the rich blooms rooted inside. The furling petals brought a smile to his face as he got to his knees near the plot of yard that had previously been nothing other than mulch and dandelions. Maybe having a garden out front might sweeten Minerva's sour mood if he did it just right. 

Tucking into the soil with the tools he had to reach out to his mom to verify were the right ones for the job, Harry started planting his rose garden. Green bushes with barely there blooms began to line the porch, making the tiny, white picket railing seem that might brighter against the rich hues of the buds. He was lost in his head, humming along to the music playing through his headphones as he built his garden, lavender and candy floss pinks joining his roses as the perfect growing companions. 

He didn't know how long he'd been out under the sun until he heard the faint sound of a car running behind him, the thrumming earning a glance over his shoulder. For a split second, he'd worried it was Minerva, home early. He had a feeling she wouldn't be happy to see him tending to the garden, tending to something they could have just hired someone to take care of if he'd been smarter about his career path. Instead, it was the car of the not-so-new neighbor that had moved in next door less than a year ago. 

A smile stretched across his face as he peered at her concentrated face through the tint of her window, a furrow to her brow as she navigated parking in the driveway. A breath of relief slumped her shoulders when she did so without incident; Harry understood, he'd seen her patching dings on her car too many times to count since she'd moved in. A clumsy driver, she was.

Harry plucked out his earbud as he sat back on his heels while she rifled through her car for a moment longer before stepping out onto the driveway. A bright smile covered her features as soon as she matched Harry's gaze, lifting his spirits higher than they'd been all day. A bubbly wave tinkled her fingers. 

"Hi, Harry!" she chattered out, hiking her bag up her shoulder as she lingered on the concrete. 

"Hi, (Y/N)," he reciprocated, his voice coming out a lot dreamier than he anticipated. 

"Your garden looks really nice," she beamed at him, toeing the ground with her teeth sinking into the plush of her bottom lip.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, knowing his entire face lit up at the praise, "'M not done yet, but 'm really liking how it's turning out." 

"I'm excited to see what it looks like when you have it all together, then," she offered, edging towards the open garage to head inside, "I'll see you around, Harry." 

"Bye," he told her, his voice carrying along with her as she went out of view. 

His gaze lingered in the spot he swore he saw a phantom of her form still. Even at the sound of the garage door closing signaling he was well and truly alone, Harry could still feel the effects of her presence, no matter how minute the interaction was. Plugging his headphone back in his ear, he went back to his work though he barely made note of anything he was doing. 

He liked (Y/N). Probably more than he should. 

She was just so sweet, enough so that her attention could make Harry blush. Even the first time they met, he remembered wishing he could have spent more time with her as she flitted about the neighborhood block party. She was a wonderful neighbor, always so considerate even though her roommate was very partial to a late night party now that they'd finally moved into an actual house after a spread of dodgy apartments through their college and some post-grad years (he'd overheard that during the block party). Minerva never seemed to like her much, though. She called her nosy, always talking to their neighbors, and attention-seeking with the way she supposedly paraded around the subdivision in her workout gear while taking her roommate's dog for a walk. 

Harry couldn't disagree more when his wife went off on her dislike for their neighbor, but it was something he had to keep to himself. Minerva would have his head if he defended (Y/N) the way he wanted to—with more than a shrug and "she's not like that, honey". Besides, he worried that if he truthfully spoke about how good he felt she was, that his little crush on her would turn into something more troublesome. He already had too many things going on inside his house, he didn't need to add the guilt of something more than a small crush on a nice girl worming it's way into his head. 

And, he cared for Minerva, still. Right? If he didn't, he would have insisted on getting a divorce and wouldn't worry so hard about what would make her happy with him. (Y/N) was a constant, happy presence in his life, even if their interactions were spread apart and only lasting some minutes here and there. Of course, he would get attached to the pretty girl who spared him attention and gave him praise without a second-thought. That didn't mean anything, though.

Even with the way his heart skipped a beat at the thought of his neighbor, Harry reminded himself of his reality. He was a married man, someone who cared for his wife and would continue to be a good husband to her until he signed his name on the dotted line. (Y/N) would always be nothing more than a nice friend. That's all.

—————

Harry sighed as he sank to his knees in his garden. Looking at all of his hardwork, he felt his heart break when he recalled Minerva's attitude the night before. 

She hated it. 

A waste of his time, she'd said. How was he supposed to find a respectable job when he was too busy with dirt up to his elbows doing a job fit for 'the help'? He had been floored when he heard her, but snapped his mouth shut as soon as she rolled her eyes and stomped upstairs, disregarding the dinner he had set out on the table. 

Looking at the bushel of lavender that still needed to be planted as well as the border that needed to be filled with his candy floss pinks, Harry didn't feel the same joy he had the day before. He probably could be a lot more useful browsing the job sites, checking in on his network connections again. If he tried hard enough, dedicated himself enough, he would get a response, right? 

His only saving grace was the music playing through his headphones, pushing him out of his head and into whatever the writer was urging him to feel with every beat and sprawled lyric. Music was everything to Harry. Way back when, he even had dreams of becoming a songwriter, or producing tracks and working in a studio—anything to put him in the industry. But that was years ago, before he was married and had to stop being so selfish with his dreams. Minerva wanted something better for him, so he had to let that go. 

Concentrating on the notes that filtered through his headphones, Harry was finally pushed out of his head and back into the moment. He would finish the garden, then go inside and job hunt some more, he decided. 

The sun was especially warm on his back today, soaking into the black fabric of his t-shirt (a bad choice in hindsight, he realized as soon as he checked the high temperature on his phone). Sweat dripped from his hairline as he dug into the soft soil lining his front porch, following the line of his nose before dropping into the dirt. If he was lucky, he would beat out a sunburn and leave with a tan coloring his skin, but the more he soaked in the heat, Harry didn't feel good about his chances. 

By the time only a half of the candy floss had been planted along the border, the neckline of his top was drenched in sweat and Harry was running out of the motivation to finish his project. It wasn't until he felt a soft hand nudge at his shoulder did he look up from the flowers he was plotting in the ground. That definitely wasn't Minerva, he knew that much before looking over his shoulder. She never touched him that gently anymore. 

Sitting back on his heels, pushing his sunglasses into the mass of hair on the top of his head, Harry turned onto only to see (Y/N) clad in her workout gear with her arms cradling snacks. 

He was quick to pull his earbud from his ear, looking to her with a shaky smile he hoped didn't embarrass him any more than the sweaty state she'd caught him in. "H-Hi, (Y/N)." 

"Hey," she greeted him with a bubbly smile, warmer than the heat clouding the air, "Looking really good, Harry." 

His mouth went dry as he processed her words. "Wh-What?" 

"Your garden," she clarified, nudging her chin in the direction behind him, "It's looking really good. Almost done?" 

"Oh, yeah. Thank you," he blinked, rolling his lips between his teeth as he granted himself a reprieve of following her line of sight to his blooms. She made him so nervous it was hard to look at her. "Only a little more to go, so I should be finishing up today." 

"You've been at it all morning, I'm surprised you haven't passed out with how hot it is," (Y/N) continued, huffing out a laugh through a soft smile, "I just came back from walking my roommate's dog and made some snacks and lemonade, so I thought I'd come over and share, if you wanted any?"

Dropping his gaze to her hands, he found a paper plate with a bagel covered in cream cheese, and a handful of dried cranberries. In the crook of her elbow, a small, chilled water bottle was cradled. 

A smile crooked his lips as he gazed at her. 

Cute. 

"Thank you, (Y/N)," he said, twisting in his spot so he could properly face her, "Y'didn't have to." 

"It's alright," she beamed, offering him the refreshments with an outstretched hand, "I was already making my own, so I thought I'd make some for you, too." 

It was simple, what she brought out for him, but even just a single sip of the sugary lemonade was enough to have Harry's heart bloating. He couldn't remember the last time someone thought about him so considerately. 

"No, this is really kind of you, (Y/N)," he cemented, looking up at her from where he sat in his yard, trying his best to keep his gaze from going too soft, "Please, let me know if there's anything I can do for you, ever. You've been so nice to me ever since y'moved in, I want to pay y'back somehow." 

"Harry, really, it's alri—" 

"Humor me? Please?" She was giving him undeserved kindness, and he didn't want to take advantage of her.

The way her features softened as she looked down at him, hair messy on the top of her head and face glowing with the dew of a fresh workout, had Harry's heart clawing at his chest. She was looking at him like that. How lucky was he? 

"Alright, I'll let you know, okay? I'm sure something will come up soon enough; I don't know if you've noticed with the amount of times I've accidentally backed into my garage door, but I'm not great about not breaking things. Be prepared with the amount of help I'll be needing now that you've offered, Harry." Faux seriousness covered her features as she pointed an accusing finger at him, thought her facade was cracking with the curl of her lips and the soft set of her eyes. 

"I'll be ready, promise," he beamed up at her, pleased with the way she bit back her smile like she was afraid of how big it would grow if she didn't.

She lingered for a moment longer, her tender gaze dropping for her feet before she matched his gaze again. "I should probably get back to the dog—he doesn't like to be alone for long—, but, I'll come by if I need anything, Harry." 

"O-okay," he breathed out, catching a flutter in his heart at the sound of his name wrapped in her voice, "I'll be here." 

Her grin widened at his small joke as she edged back towards her home. With a little wave, she was on her way, Harry watching her the entire time. 

When he saw her twist to look over her shoulder, he felt silly for a moment to have been caught staring, but then she spoke: "Tell Minerva I said hi, too, please! I haven't seen her in so long!" 

It was the genuine smile on her face that had his heart dropping to his stomach. He kept quiet as he gave a confirming nod, waiting for her to disappear back inside her home before he dropped his gaze. 

She was a sweet, sweet, sweet girl who wanted him to say hello to his wife for her—the same woman that would smear mud across (Y/N)'s name at any given chance. She saw the best in everyone, even people who didn't deserve that rose-tinted view. She was much too good for him, he knew that much. Much too good to have a married man become infatuated with the idea of her. 

—————

Clicking out of his email, Harry ran a heavy hand through his hair. 

Nothing. Not a single response to all of his cover letters, tailored resumes, and followups. 

He knew in the grand scheme of things that four weeks really wasn't that long to be unemployed, but sitting in this house all day long, waiting for his wife to come home with whatever jeering remarks she stewed over all day, felt like years of torture. There wasn't anything else to fix up in the house that could distract him for hours on end; the gardens in both the front and back were planted and well maintained now, the garage still tidy, attic still clean and clear, and he'd even fixed that leaky faucet in the guest bathroom Minerva had been complaining about since they moved in. What else was there to do but marinate in his own short-comings and make himself go mad until it was time to make dinner?

Slumping into the couch cushions, Harry tried to distract himself by flicking on the television, hoping to find something to take his mind off of the replay of last night's silent dinner with Minerva. Sometimes he couldn't figure out what hurt more: her silence or her deprecating words that broke him down? 

Just as he found a daytime soap he remembered his mother tuning into, a quiet knock rang at the front door. He didn't make a move to answer it, assuming it was some delivery service dropping off something Minerva had ordered or a door-to-door solicitor that would be smart to get out of this neighborhood before one of the more haughty neighbors reamed him for doing his job. But, when another round of the soft rapping came, he dared to peek his head through the gauzy curtains and glimpse at the visitor. 

It was (Y/N). 

From the limited view he had, he could see the way she was glancing back and forth from his front door and to her house, toeing anxiously at the ground with her phone clutched in her hand. Today was her day off, he remembered that (don't ask him how, he knew it wasn't something he needed to remember but he couldn't help his memory), only emphasized by the comfy shorts she had on her legs and the large t-shirt that was much too cold to be wearing so early in the morning without a sweater. 

It was that one peek at her that had him rising from his spot on the couch and rushing towards the front door. By the time he twisted the locks and pulled the door open, (Y/N) was reluctantly stepping off the porch with her phone pressed to her ear. As soon as she saw Harry in the threshold, she ended her call with a sigh of relief.

"Harry," she breathed, hands falling to her sides, "I was so worried you were at work, or something." 

"Is everything alright? Are y'okay?" He didn't even realize he was scanning over her form for injuries until he met her gaze from where it had drawn down to her feet. 

"Yeah, yeah," she nodded, toeing at the ground as she glanced towards her house, "I just... You said you would be willing to help me if I needed anything, right?" 

"Yes, of course," he affirmed, a furrow pinching at his brows. 

"So," she started, looking guilty already, "I was about to go take a shower, but I think I broke it." 

"Broke what?" 

"The shower." 

Harry blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"Its..." she started again, scrunching her nose as she tried to find the words, "I don't know, it's just not working and I don't know what happened." 

"Okay," Harry said slowly, passing a hand through his hair as he stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him, "I'll take a look and see if I can help." 

"Thank you so much, Harry," (Y/N) babbled, relief touching at her features, "My roommate is going to kill me if I break one more thing in the house." 

"Yeah?" he pressed, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips with a dimple pressing into his cheek, "Have y'been breaking a lot of stuff then?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes as she started across the lawn with Harry following after. "I don't think so, but Mitch swears that I broke the panini press, the wifi-thing, the ice maker, and I somehow, apparently, fucked up the coffee table, or something. I think he's just dramatic and doesn't pay attention when he's using things, but whatever."

A smile bloomed across his features as he listened to her list off every appliance and piece of furniture that could be in a house. Now, including a shower (whatever that exactly meant) on that list. 

Humming, he nodded his head, "Do y'think he breaks it and tries to blame it on you, or something?" Harry wouldn't like that. (Y/N) didn't deserve a roommate like that. 

"No," she waved off, pushing open the unlocked front door before letting Harry in ahead of her, "he's not like that. I just think some of the things we have are old, so of course they stop working or break, and he knows he didn't do it so he thinks it's me. But, I think it's just the universe." 

"I see," Harry smiled, stepping into her home. 

While it was a shared space, he could still spot the (Y/N)-esque touches littered throughout the living room; a soft knitted blanket in creamy tones thrown across the back of the deep green couch, a bookcase spotted with novels he'd heard her reference to her friends in the neighborhood along with little crystals and delicate trinkets, and photos framed on the wall with her beaming smile lighting up the setting. Everything looked worn and loved, handed down from relatives or second-hand shops—nothing at all like the stiff decor and furniture that Minerva had picked out from a catalogue exactly as it was. It looked like a home. 

"It's the upstairs bathroom, if you wanted to follow me," (Y/N) explained, stopping him from wandering out into the space to see what it would feel like to wrap himself in things that were (Y/N). 

"Right, the shower," he murmured under his breath, trailing behind her, "What exactly happened?" 

An exasperated shrug of (Y/N)'s shoulders was the view he was granted a couple of steps behind, "I don't know. I got all my stuff ready to take my shower, and I was waiting for the water to warm up and when I pulled the thing to make it come out of the shower head and not the faucet, it just... didn't work." 

She took him to the bathroom in question, opening the door to the brightly lit and femininely decorated bathroom (her own personal one, he'd assume) with the remnants of steam still touching the top of the mirror. 

"Watch this." She beckoned to him, settling on her knees on the tiled floor. Twisting the knob on the temperature control, water started streaming through the faucet and splashing across the tub. She paused for a moment as if to ensure Harry was properly watching before she reached across and pulled the pin at the top of the faucet, the same one that should redirect the water flow up to the shower head. The second it was pulled, there was a sputtering of water flowing for a moment longer before only a single bead fell from the shower head. The faucet stopped leaking, leaving the water to go down the drain before the shower was dry, none of the outlets dispensing. 

"Huh," Harry breathed, gaze drifting back and forth between the faucet and the shower head as if either one would explode at a moment's notice with all the water pent up. 

"Right?" 

"It just started acting weird today?" he asked, reaching into the bathtub and pulling on the pin again. The same result: silence and dryness. 

"Yeah, it was perfectly fine last night. And everything else like the sink, and the kitchen, and Mitch's bathroom are all working. It's just the shower." 

Harry tested it out for a few minutes, (Y/N)'s eyes following him as he tinkered with the knob controlling the pressure and temperature, the pin, and the shower head itself. Nothing changed as he poked and prodded, a furrow pinching his brow. 

"Do you know where your water heater is?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to her as he twisted the knob to off. 

Pausing when he saw the way she was sat so prettily behind him, Harry suddenly felt flush under her attention. He had felt the warmth of her gaze the whole time as he worked and messed around with the appliance, but it was different seeing her with wide eyes looking up at him with her legs tucked carefully under her body. Even with her messy hair and ill-fitting clothes, Harry swore for a moment she was surrounded by starlight and puffs of cotton candy clouds—a dream on earth. 

His heart skipped a beat with butterflies filling his tummy. Since when was he this far gone? 

A loud thud sounded from the floors below, the only thing that shook Harry from whatever was running through his head that only jumbled the second he remembered this was (Y/N) who was gazing up at him like that. 

"(Y/N)?" he stuttered over her name, his arms dropping limply at his sides.

The call of her name brought focus to her eyes. "Hm?" she hummed, with with a flutter of her lashes. 

"D-Do you know where your water heater is?" he tried again, running a nervous finger under the tip of his nose. 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," she breathed out on a laugh, rising to her shaky legs, "It's in the basement."

They were quiet as Harry followed her on an impromptu tour of the house, down the two floors to the chilled basement. It was when she reached the landing did she stop in her tracks with a gasp. It took him only a second to peer around her shoulder and find the cause of her widened eyes and fists clutched to her chest. 

The concrete floor of the space was covered in a shallow pool of water. Some spaces the level was lower than others, but there was definitely enough water covering the floor to account for what hadn't been streaming through the shower upstairs. 

"Shit," Harry whispered, spotting the pack of boxes pushed into the very corner of the basement, the bottom row slowly taking on water.

"Those are Mitch's things," she rushed out, following his line of sight, "I need to get them upstairs before anything gets messed up." 

(Y/N) didn't falter after that, splashing through the water with her bare feet. Harry went to follow her, only to have to step out of the way as she was on her way back with a box stacked in her arms. 

"D-Do y'want help?" The question felt a little dumb leaving Harry's mouth, but he didn't want to start rummaging around if she would prefer he stand back.

"Would you, please?" (Y/N) asked from halfway up the stairs, "Thank you so much, Harry." 

Hearing that strain in her voice was all he needed before he was setting off to help her pick up the boxes, trudge through the water and up the steep stairs. By the time there was nothing more than the last few boxes, the bottoms all soaked in the leaked water, he was out of breath but (Y/N) looked a little less stressed. Only a little. 

"Thanks," she panted out again once all of her roommates things were safely tucked away on dry land. Her eyes fluttered closed before she ran a heavy hand over her features, the heels of her palms pressing into her eyes. "I think Mitch is really going to kill me for this one. I don't even know what happened." 

Hands on his hips, Harry remembered the shimmering lake that had taken over the level below. "I don't either, love, but you're going to need to call someone to fix it. 'M sure something is blocked." 

"Probably," she sighed, eyes focusing on a random spot by her feet as she pinched at her lips, "H-How do I get the water out of the basement, though?" 

"Jus' gonna have to mop it up, and use some towels, I think. 'S not a lot, so it shouldn't be too bad." 

"Yeah," she breathed out again, focus coming back to her gaze as it flitted up to return Harry's. "I'm so sorry to ask, but would you be able to help? Even just for a lit—"

"Yeah, of course I can help." A heat touched at his cheeks as he realized just how eagerly he had offered up his help. But, with the way (Y/N) lit up at his agreement to help, he didn't really mind how silly he sounded. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. So much, Harry," she beamed at him, already seeming to have more life in her as she toed towards the stairs leading her up a level, "I'll go grab some towels, but the mop is in the kitchen, over there, if you can get that. I'll be right back. Thank you so much!" 

It was with a scuttle of her feet and a twist of her hair fluttering behind her that she disappeared up the staircase. Harry's gaze followed after her for a moment longer, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he felt a smile coming on. 

—————

"Did you always want to do accounting?" 

(Y/N)'s question echoed in the empty basement, sounding over the slopping sound of the mop in Harry's hands sopping up the water that didn't seem to have an end. He shrugged, having expected this question when they started talking about their career-paths (apparently, (Y/N) wanted to be a writer, but she was currently working retail so she could pay the bills in the meantime). 

"Not really," he answered honestly, wringing out the mop into the accompanying bucket that was just under half full at this point, "I actually wanted to get into music, but this seemed more practical." 

"Music?" (Y/N) perked up, wringing out a soaked towel before opting for the slightly drier ones as she worked on her hands and knees, "Like as a singer?" 

A smile plucked at Harry's features at the enthusiasm in her voice. He couldn't remember the last time someone sounded genuinely excited at the idea of learning more about him. 

"Maybe if I felt right, but mostly songwriting and producing. I liked the idea of being in one of those big studios, you know?" The images he'd had of his life when he was young flashed through his head. His heart almost broke at how easily it was to conjure up those pictures despite how long it'd been since he allowed himself to indulge in those what-ifs.

"Did you write a lot of songs then? Anything I might have heard?" (Y/N) wasn't even working anymore, that much Harry could tell when he peeked at her through his lashes. She was sitting back on her heels listening to him, attention rapt and unwavering. 

"No, I never really made music. Everything I've ever written is packed away in some journal in m'attic. I haven't seen it since university, I think." That was a little bit of a lie, if he was being honest. He'd seen it when he was reorganizing the attic space and moving things around. He just didn't have the guts to open it.

He could hear the pout in her voice as she humphed. "That's a bummer. I would have loved to read what you wanted to put to music," she mused, "If you ever find it, would you let me read some of it?" 

Against his will, a memory of him shoving his book into Minerva's hands, asking her to read his latest work—one that was inspired by her—before she refused, not wanting to read any of what his silly hobby spawned. It was a waste, she had told him in her own way; music wasn't a stable job and he needed to wake up before it was too late and he'd sung them into living in a cardboard box. 

Harry made quick work of shoving that thought to the side, inserting himself into the moment with (Y/N) once more. It was the glimmer in her eyes, the smile on her lips, and the fact she asked to read his art that had him answering in a heartbeat. "Of course. You'll be the first person I call." 

The creases that lined her face as her smile grew was enough to wipe those awful moments with Minerva away like the water he was sopping off the floor. Speaking around her smile, she dropped her gaze to the towel in her hands, "So—um—if you wanted to be a songwriter, why did you end up going into accounting? That's a huge field change." 

"Yeah," he sighed, plucking at his bottom lip for a moment of comfort, "Um, she—sorry, Minerva, she thought it would be a better idea to go into something like finance. More stable and real than music." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, voice neutral though he could see her features scrunch up some, "I can see that a little, I guess. Did she ever help you write or anything like that?" 

"Not really. It wasn't something she thought was..." Harry floundered as he remembered all the things she called his songwriting (not worth her time, stupid, an excuse to not find a real job, ect.). Those probably weren't the kind of things to dump on his neighbor. "It was jus' hard for her to get into it the way I did. I usually did all of it alone." 

"Well," she started, a slight pinch lingering in her brows as she crawled to the next section of floor, "I'm sure if she could have helped, she would have." 

Harry didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. 

"Yeah, but what about you, hm?" he switched, wringing out the mop once more, "What kind best-seller are y'drafting?" 

It seemed that was the perfect question to ask her as she shot into an explantation of the creative writing class she had taken in college and the idea of a narrative that never quite left her (of course only after she rolled her eyes at his best-seller comment. I haven't even finished a single chapter, Harry, she told him though the smile she was biting back still bled into her features). He was wrapped up solidly in the world she was painting for him, even when she shyly brought up the romantic aspects as she was most excited about adding. 

Despite the water seeping through his Vans and chilling him from his toes up, Harry swore he could have stayed in that basement all day long hearing her talk about the things she loved. 

What a privilege that would be.

—————

Minerva didn't even bother to wake Harry up before she was off to work this morning, only leaving a note tacked to the fridge about the shopping that needed to be done today and that she would be home late due to after-work drinks with some of her colleagues. He wasn't all that surprised at that. She seemed to prefer to spend any time she could away from him, no matter where it was.

At least, he had a task that would take up some of the morning and direct his mind off of the sourness that was filling his lungs every time he thought about Minerva. 

Taking his time to clean up after the breakfast his wife made for herself before her day at work, Harry didn't leave for grocery shopping until late in the morning. Armed with Minerva's list as well as the mental one he'd developed after spending so much time at home and in charge of meals, he plucked a trolley and started off through the shelves. 

The store was luckily fairly empty given the time of day he was waltzing through the aisles, and Harry couldn't be more grateful for the chance to move at his own pace. He was feeling particularly slothly today, sluggish limbs and tired eyes, so at least he wasn't being pushed around and feeling rushed to get out of there as soon as he could. He marked off every item he grabbed from the shelves as he went, putting together a menu for the rest of the week. 

It wasn't until he was armed with the ingredients to Minerva's favorite pad Thai recipe—one she probably wasn't even going to eat, he pessimistically decided—that he ran into another's cart. 

"Oh gosh—" 

"I'm sorry—" 

The second he saw who he had accidentally bumped into, every bit of exhaustion evaporated from his limbs. 

(Y/N)'s expression cleared up just the same, the apology on her lips falling away in favor of wrapping her voice around his name. "Hi," she greeted him, "Fancy seeing you here." 

"Yeah, sorry about that," he told her, sounding much too chipper for an apology, "Wasn't watching where I was going." 

"It's alright, I'm happy it was you," she cemented, parking her cart on the other side of the aisle from him, settling in, "How are you?" 

"'M good, thank you," he smiled, "How's your shower and everything? Did that guy end up making it out there?" 

"Yeah, he came a little after you left," she sighed, shaking her head as if recalling the memory made her just as exasperated as she was in real time, "It was so stupid. I don't even know what it was that was blocking my shower, but something was blocking that specific channel so every time I turned it on and tried to get water to come out, I was breaking something else and flooding the basement. I feel like he was being a jerk, but Mitch says that I was probably just in a bad mood." 

Harry shrugged, biting back a smile though he was sure his dimple still poked through. Maybe she was in a bad mood—he wouldn't blame her—, but she hadn't been in one by the time he left. If he really let his heart run away from him, he'd let himself imagine he had been the one to keep her happy.

"At least he got it fixed, right?" he tried, leaning his forearms into the seat of the trolley, chin resting on his fist. 

"Yeah," she smiled, apparently forgetting the supposed attitude she was given, "I got to wash my hair afterwards, so that was nice." He watched as her gaze dropped to the contents of his cart, eyes lighting up when she caught sight of something to pique her interest. "Where did you find that pizza dough? Mitch and I keep ordering out for pizza so I was trying to get stuff to make it ourselves instead." 

An apologetic smile curled his lips before she even finished speaking. "It's over by the cheese counter, but I did grab the last couple. 'M sorry, (Y/N)." 

The second he watched her deflate, the makings of a pout itching at her lips, Harry couldn't help himself. He just wanted to see her smile again. 

"I was planning on using them for lunch today, but, if y'want, y'can come over and-and try it with me? I haven't tried this one before either, so if y'like it, y'can take some home." 

He could barely hear his own voice over the sound of his heartbeat as he allowed his mouth to run ahead of him. 

(Y/N) hesitated from where she stood in front of him, the blunt edges of her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. With a flutter of her lashes, she returned his gaze. "Are you sure? I can just get some next time, it's alright." 

Swallowing, he saw the way out she was giving him, but he found himself wanting to stay just where he'd put himself. 

"'M sure," he cemented, surprised by how lightweight the words felt, "I was going to eat by myself anyway, so at least we could talk a little." 

A beat passed before she offered him a sweet smile and a nod of her head. "Alright. I still have some more shopping to do, but when I'm home, I could come by? As long as you're alright with waiting for me." 

Harry didn't need to think before he was nodding his head. 

Of course he would wait for her.

—————

Was this cheating? 

Harry's chest constricted at the thought. 

He wasn't a cheater, was he?

All he'd done was invite a friend over for lunch and to talk, just as they'd done before. He'd ran into her at the supermarket and asked if she wanted to share some of the food he was planning on making anyway, especially as she was only a door down. That's not cheating, right? 

No, he told himself. They hadn't even touched outside of passing each other when they were lugging up her roommate's belongings upstairs, let alone kiss or go further. And nothing they'd talked about had verged into romantic territory, not even for a second. He talked to her like he would talk to a friend. He'd had female friends before—before Minerva, of course—and this was how he would treat any of them. He would even argue he's held her at a larger distance away, especially since he was married. 

Just because he thought his friend was pretty, didn't mean he was cheating. 

Minerva even knew about he extra time here and there he was spending with (Y/N), though she definitely scoffed and made faces whenever he spoke her name. If he was doing something wrong, he wouldn't have told Minerva anything, right?

Harry couldn't calm his spinning mind as he put away his groceries, spiraling out of control as he contemplated turning (Y/N) away when she came to the door—with all the ingredients for a pizza to make at her own home. But, as much as he was worried about the blurry line he was approaching, he didn't want to say no to her and make her leave. He didn't want the sunshine that was leaking into his life courtesy of his neighbor to become shrouded by clouds once again. 

It was an innocent friendship, and if Harry couldn't handle himself, he would stop it. He vowed to himself that if he came to a point where he was worried he wouldn't be able to not cross into the shades of grey safely, then he would end it. Because he was someone's husband before he was someone's friend. 

It wasn't until he heard a knock on the front door that Harry's frantic hands came to a sputtering halt. Bracing his hands on the edge of the counter where he stood in front of the ingredients for his pizza project, he took a steadying breath. He centered himself for one more moment before going to the door to let his friend in. 

(Y/N) greeted him with a bright smile when he swung the door open. "Hi, stranger," she bubbled, hands folded in front of her dressed in the same comfy set he'd found her in at the grocery. 

"Hi," he greeted her, feeling the stretch of his grin as he took her in. 

Even as he widened the berth of the door, clearing way for her to pass through, (Y/N) nervously toed the porch, eyes giving way to a tinge of anxiety he'd never seen there before. A pinch drew his brows together as he watched her. 

"You're still hungry, right?" he prodded, giving her an out if she decided she would rather be at home. 

His question seemed to shake her from wherever she had crawled to in her head. "Y-Yeah, sorry," she brushed off with a smile, stepping over the threshold and into his home, "I just realized I've never been inside your house before." 

"That's right, huh," he said, smile going lopsided with only a single dimple in his cheek, "Busy couple of weeks for us, then, right? Packing a whole lot of basic friendship things into a few days." 

Harry knew he uttered the word friendship for his benefit only, feeling stiff as it passed his lips. Because this was what this all was. Friends went to each other's houses, and got to know each other through quality time. Nothing nefarious or wrong about that. 

"We've been neighbors for almost a year, and I think I just learned your last name," (Y/N) laughed, waiting for him as he locked the front door before starting off towards the kitchen with her behind him. 

"That's what happens when y'wait to break your shower so y'can invite me over," Harry shrugged, looking over his shoulder with a smug smile on his lips. 

(Y/N) only rolled her eyes, and shook her head as they entered the kitchen. Harry's set up was just as he'd left it: dough rolled out and floured, his favorite pizza sauce set off to the side with every fix-in delegated to different bowls and packages for easing picking. She followed after him with a light to her eyes, taking in the station he'd set up for them. 

"I didn't know what y'might want to put on it, so I jus' got everything out," he explained, starting to feel a little sheepish over the amount of effort he put into his friend's meal. 

"Thank you, Harry," she smiled at him, standing in front of one of the two slabs of rolled out dough, "This is perfect. You're so nice." 

He had to pretend that his heart didn't flutter some at the gentle compliment she gave him. 

Smiling down at his hands, Harry turned towards the sink to wash up before starting to assemble the food so she didn't see the flush he was sure was pricking the tip of his nose. 

Once she'd followed the same procedure before returning to her station, Harry finally chanced a look at her where she stood with expecting eyes. Yeah, she was still pretty.

"Ready?" he murmured, swallowing around the word. 

"Ready." 

—————

"So, you didn't even actually work in the bakery? You did that on purpose, didn't you? So I would be lulled into a sense of trust even though you were only winging it on the bake time for the pizza." 

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he listened to (Y/N)'s very true accusations. There had been something of a squabble over the bake time and temperature, as (Y/N) had supposedly googled the best combination of how long to let them sit under the heat and just how high the dial needed to be twisted while Harry swore by his own method. A wicked smile had curled his lips when he brought out the best end to the argument: his so-called experience.

"You're the worst," she challenged, shaking her head when she saw the quirking of his lips, "You just didn't want me to be right." 

"They turned out jus' fine, didn't they?" Harry countered, jutting his chin out in playful defiance.

(Y/N) muttered out a muted whatever, though the flutter of her lashes and sparkle in her eyes didn't diminish to go along with her faux-attitude.  

A warm silence settled within the dining room as they each took bites of their food, Harry unable to stop himself from looking at her through his lashes. He swore he even caught her drawing her eyes away at the last second during one of his peeks. 

"I hope this doesn't come out wrong," (Y/N) broke the silence, wiping her mouth of the pizza sauce that had collected on the corner, "but, I'm kind of happy you're not working right now. We've actually gotten to get to know each other now that you've been home." 

Looking at her, moony eyes with fluttery lashes and dewy skin glimmering in the sunlight leaking through the windows, Harry wanted to kiss her. That scared him. 

While it might not have been the first time he thought about what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), it had previously always been in the abstract, someone in his place before the fleeting thought was out of his head in a blink. But, this time... this time was it's own beast that has Harry's heart rattling against his ribcage like a criminal in a jail cell.

This time, he had a solid vision of himself, reaching across the dining table he had dinner with his wife at, fitting his hand around the back of (Y/N)'s neck—wedding band and all—before slotting his lips against hers. She was happy she'd had a chance to get to know him, and that was something he hadn't realized he'd ever wanted to hear.

And, that scared him. This was cheating, wasn't it? Married men don't think about kissing other women like that. They don't look across the table and try to pick out the glimmers in their neighbor's eyes, or wonder how soft her lips would be, or wish they could tuck their face into her neck and see if she really smelled like strawberry poundcake like the lotion on her bathroom counter suggested. Married men shouldn't do that. 

Harry swallowed thickly, dropping his gaze to his unfinished slice of misshapen pizza. 

"Is everything okay?" (Y/N) broached, speaking to him as if he were an injured animal, "I didn't mean to make you upset about work. I shouldn't have said it lik—" 

"No, no," Harry shook his head, a stray curl landing across his forehead, "'S not that, don't worry. I know what y'were trying to say." 

"Okay," (Y/N) sounded, the syllables coming out quietly as she placed her pizza down, "Is something else wrong then?" 

How was he supposed to explain to her that he crossed into territory that was too blurry to be safe for him—the one with the wedding band on his finger? She had no idea of what was running through his head as she spoke, the way his heart skipped a beat when she gave him attention he hadn't even known he'd been craving since she approached him in the garden weeks ago. At this pace, he was ruining two relationships at once: his marriage to Minerva and his friendship with (Y/N). 

"(Y/N), I..." he started, unable to think clearly with the way his heart crawled up into his throat. Was there an eloquent way to tell someone you can't see them anymore because you fear you might cheat on your spouse if you became any closer? Was there ever a good time to confess to having feelings for another woman while also cutting them off? 

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured, "you're worrying me. Can you at least tell me if you're alright?" 

"I d-don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, dropping his head into his hands that were propped up on elbows pinned to the table, "I don't—It might—... I think I might need to take a step back from you." 

Silence fell over the room once more, this time lacking the warmth that it had been filled with less than ten minutes prior.

"I... don't think I understand," she responded, sounding stiff. 

Harry shook his head in his hands, his hair fluffing around his face. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other anymore, es-especially alone like this." 

Heat crawled up his features, starting at the base of his neck as he choked out the words. He couldn't even look at her, but he could fantasize about cheating on his wife with her? 

"Um, okay," (Y/N) said after a beat, words stilted, "I understand. May I ask why, though? Because if it was something I did, I want to apologize at least." 

He shook his head as she spoke. None of this was her fault. Never was an apology from her lips needed over this situation. He dared to peek up at her through the cage of his fingers, finding her with her gaze downcast and shoulders deflated. 

His tongue felt thick as he tried to speak around it, dry throat not helping any. He floundered over the honesty he knew he owed her. "It's jus'... 'M married and all, you know?" 

The pieces seemingly clicked together for (Y/N) without any extra explanation. She gave a slow nod of her head. "Right. I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries, or anything. I didn't mean to." 

Before he could offer any consolation, tell her that the fault was all his own and she'd been nothing more than the sunshine he'd been aching for since he found himself on a clouded shore, but she was quick to pushed away from the dining table. She offered a polite thank you for lunch, before she was out of the house in record time; the sound of the door shutting behind her lingered longer than she did. 

Scrunching his eyes tightly, Harry couldn't help but dig the pads of his fingers into the soft skin of his eyelids. "Fuck," he whispered to himself in the empty house. In a burst of frustration at the feeling of tears filling his eyes as if he had earned the right to be upset over the entire situation, he slammed his fists onto the table. The china rattled on the surface, only joining in with the ruckus of the loud Fuck! he screamed into the void of his home. 

Slumping back into his chair, Harry stared up at the ceiling for who knows how long until he felt a nerve in the muscles pinch over the position. A labored breath was all he managed to pull into his lungs as he looked over the state of his home. 

He needed to clean up before Minerva came home.

—————

Harry pushed the pad Thai around in his bowl, chopsticks making a dull scraping sound against the porcelain. Minerva—surprisingly home for dinner, which he hadn't been anticipating—had her eyes glued to her phone with a curl to her lips. The house was filled with silence just the way it had been for the last week and a half since Harry brought on his own heartache. 

Since (Y/N) walked out, Harry hadn't been able to get her off his mind. 

Nothing had been the same since the sound of the door slamming after her reverberated through the house. He swore that a part of his heart walked right out after her, trailing behind the home it had been trying to make in the warmth of her. He lied awake that night, wallowing in the mistake he'd made on two women in his life he was supposed to care about and protect. He'd failed on both fronts. 

But, even after he cut himself off from the wallowing—he determined he didn't deserve more than a couple of days since this was all his doing—he found an ache lingering in his bones and a fog clouding his brain. He didn't want to eat, barely made sure he drank some water each day, and wanted nothing more than to hole himself up in the master bedroom though he never managed to actually sleep. If he wasn't distracted enough, his mind would wander too far away, waking up things he'd rather stay asleep. 

He could only recall feeling like this once before: when Minerva had changed, making it very clear she was no longer invested in him or their relationship. 

He was broken-hearted. Over losing (Y/N). 

Maybe he had more than a silly crush on her like he had thought. He found himself wondering in the aftermath if she was alright. Was she blaming herself? Was she keeping busy with her roommate? Was she taking care of herself? It only worried him when he saw her roommate walking the dog around the neighborhood, something that seemed to be (Y/N) job exclusively before this. When he told Minerva that (Y/N) wouldn't be hanging around much anymore, he remembered how angry he became when she laughed, the noise cruel, and said something about how it was about time she'd run off. 

How dare she? he recalled thinking. (Y/N) had never once said a single bad word about her, and yet Minerva couldn't even spare a question on why she wouldn't be over anymore or if something had happened. He'd shared the fact he'd made a real friend for the first time in years, and she didn't bother to ask what would be the cause of the separation, even going so far as to rub it in his face with an I-told-you-so-esque comment? Who was this person he had married?

But, in the end, (Y/N) sat at the forefront of his mind, stealing any selfish thought and reminding him of the real innocent in this situation. She deserved better. 

His feelings for her had been a lot more real than he even realized. If he had known, he liked to think things would have turned out differently for them. 

Holding back a sigh, Harry pinched a bean sprout between his chopsticks as he slumped over the table with his chin in his hands. 

"I heard back from that auto-body place I told you about," Harry offered, filling the silence with his raw voice. Minerva didn't even look up.

"Hm?" 

"That job I applied for—bookkeeping at that auto-body place just out of town. They emailed me back; I have a phone interview with them tomorrow," he shared, hoping the good news would at least make her happy. Maybe, that would be enough to get him out of his head, the static of the house surely not helping him feel normal. 

"Oh," Minerva sounded, a sour expression pinching her features, "You actually applied there? I thought I told you it sounded gross." 

Rolling his neck, he swallowed. "I know, but work is work and that's what I need right now. I can keep looking even if they hire me, I jus' need something right now." 

A roll of her hazel eyes was granted in response to his words. "It's like you don't even listen to me. Sure, you're unemployed, but do you not think it would look worse for you to work at some greasy mechanic? Harry, it's gross, and you would know that if you ever actually listened to me." 

Her biting words touched a nerve Harry didn't even know had been exposed. 

"I listen to you all the time, Minerva," he grumbled, voice low and controlled. His heart pounded in his ears, the sound rising from his chest.

She scoffed at his retort, her phone finally dropping from her hand as she sat up straight in her seat. "Excuse me?" 

"I said," he breathed, tempering himself before he raised his voice, "I always listen to you. Jus' like how I listened to you when y'said I wasn't trying hard enough and thinking too much of myself and not applying to jobs on my level. So, I broadened my search—like you asked—and found this place that would pay nicely and might appreciate what I could bring."

"Oh, now you're just blaming me, like it's my fault you couldn't find anything other than some slum to hire you. Stop being a dick, and just listen to wh—" 

"I am listening! I have listened for the last seven years! And, I don't want to listen anymore, Minerva!" 

It was like the universe knew about the changing tide, a sudden clash of thunder echoing outside that ramped up the storm that had been brewing in the clouds. The second the sky settled, Harry realized the tone and volume of his words and the fact Minerva hadn't said a single thing back, already feeling guilt in his system. 

"I shouldn't have shouted at you, 'm sorry, M—" 

"This is about her, isn't it? 

Harry was taken aback at the accusing tone of voice she used on him. Flicking his gaze between her eyes, he found the anger that had been brewing in her silence. She hadn't been scared or upset that he'd raised his voice—no, she was trying to find the best way to one-up him. 

"Who?" 

"The fucking neighbor you're so obsessed with. This is about her, isn't it? She's been telling you I'm the bad guy for wanting you to get a good job, is that it?" 

Stinging offense touched at Harry's chest. "This has nothing to do with (Y/N), leave her out of this, Minerva. She's never said a bad thing about you, you know that? When all you do is shit on her for no other reason than the fact she exists." 

"I have reason, Harry," she spat, leaning over the table as he voice grew, "Like the fact that my husband eye-fucks her every time she's around! Did you really think I didn't fucking notice?!" 

"'S not like that, Minerva, and you��know it." Harry slid his hands into his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. "Why would you even care, anyway? 'S not like you even like me anymore." 

"Because you're my husband. You are mine, until I decide otherwise. Then you can sleep around with every girl you see—but until then, you have to listen to me." 

Harry didn't even realize a sheen had collected over his eyes, tears in his waterline as he just realized just how trapped he was in that moment, not until Minerva pointed it out to him. 

"Are you really about to cry, right now?" 

"I know you're cheating on me." 

The words slipped past his lips before he even realized they were on the tip of his tongue. He'd barely let himself think about what Minerva was really up to those nights she was getting drinks, or staying late to finish a project, let alone speak them aloud. But now, there they were. In the static silence of the dining room, he was tired of pretending and listening and hoping. 

Minerva seemed to be floored for a second, floundering over her words. "Don't try to turn this on me, Harry—" 

"I do your laundry, you know" he sighed, exhausted now that the biggest weight had left his chest, "I've seen what you wear those nights you're supposedly at the office until one in the morning." 

"Oh, so now I can't wear sexy underwear without your permission—" 

"And, remember when you insisted I share my location with you? Even went through my phone and did it all when I was in the bathroom." Harry swallowed at the memory, but he felt numb to the panic that began to rise in Minerva's eyes. "But, I can see your location, too. I know you're not at the office or whatever bar you pretend to get drinks at when you don't come home." 

She was stock still for a moment before Minerva crossed her arms heavily over her chest, slumping back into her chair. "Okay, and?" she spat, rolling her eyes as if this were another petty argument, "It's not like we haven't been over for years—sorry I wanted to feel loved for once." 

Harry didn't even pay her jabs any mind. None of this mattered anymore to his battered heart. 

"I want a divorce." 

"Harry, we've talked about this. It's no—" 

"I don't care about your job. I want a divorce." 

Venom filled her eyes as she locked her gaze on him.

"You only want this now that you have your little whore next door, isn't it? Yo—" 

"Minerva, please," he heaved, exasperated as his hands fell limp into his lap his neck rolling back to pin his gaze to the ceiling, "Why can't we just be happy? That's all I want. We get a divorce, and you can feel loved by whoever you want and I can get the fuck out of this house." 

Harry didn't look at her even as he heard the sound of her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "Fucking fine, Harry," she spat his name out like bile, "Get the papers and I'll sign them—no contest, or whatever makes this fastest. But if you want to get out of this fucking house so bad, you can start tonight. Find somewhere else to sleep, asshole." 

With that, his soon-to-be ex-wife stomped upstairs, slamming the master bedroom door hard enough he was sure that his wedding photos would have fallen from the walls had this been a movie. The sickly silent house was filled with the sound of the pelting rain from outside, the interior lit up by lightning strikes and shook by the pounds of thunder. 

He needed to get out of here. 

It was as if he was on autopilot as he moved through the kitchen and out the front door with nothing more than his phone and keys. He didn't even realize where he was going until he was dripping wet with rain soaking him to the bone on (Y/N)'s door step.

He must have missed knocking on her door because he was surprised when he saw the door open wide with (Y/N) standing in her pajamas, concerned etched all over her face with his name forming on her lips.

"I'm getting a divorce." 

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as he cut her off, taking in the rain-sodden man. The water dripping from his hair onto the stained wood of her porch mimicked the watery gaze he stared at her with. 

"Harry, you didn't because of m—" 

"No, no," he swallowed, his mouth working faster than his brain, "No, it's not-not because of you. I should have done this a long time ago, I just let her decide everything for me even if I hated it. You-You made me re-real again. I couldn't stay with her knowing I could be happy again somewhere—somewhere that wasn't with her." 

He watched through bleary eyes as her shoulders raised with a deep breath before she reached out to him. 

"Come inside, you're going to get sick," she murmured, a sad smile on her features that shouldn't have tugged at his heartstrings. 

Taking wooden steps, the cold finally registering on his skin now that the option of warmth was presented in her home as he crossed the threshold. Water dripped onto the hardwood that was identical to what was next door, but felt completely different in a space that actually knew happiness. A man was sat on the couch, long dark hair falling over his shoulder with a pinched mouth and wide eyes taking in the new visitor. 

"Harry," (Y/N) said, stepping around him once the door was locked and closed, "this is my roommate, Mitch. Mitch, this is Harry... our neighbor." 

Mitch nodded his head, rolling his lips between his teeth before he straightened up from his slumped position. "Nice to meet you," he smiled politely before his eyes slid to (Y/N), "I'm gonna go to my room, so if you need anything, just let me know." 

Harry stood with his arms crossed over his chest as they stood, seemingly waiting for the click of Mitch's bedroom door before (Y/N) unfroze. "Um," she mumbled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she met Harry's gaze, "I'm gonna go grab you some clothes to wear while we wash your stuff. Just... wait right here, but I'll be right back."

(Y/N) lingered for a moment longer, placing a gentle hand on his arm to go along with her softened features before she was padding up the stairs. It could have been two minutes or two years that it took (Y/N) to return from her search, but Harry had no idea about the difference. He only took note of her soft hands urging him towards the bathroom, a set of oversized clothing tucked into his arms she told him was her brother's. He wouldn't mind if Harry borrowed them, she assured him. 

Maybe it was the cold or the shock that lingered in his system that kept his joints stiff as he dressed. Once his wet clothes were nothing more than a puddle on the titled floor, heavy and thick with the new set cozied to his form, a hair too big, Harry stopped. With his hands braced on the lip of the counter, he spared himself a glance in the mirror. 

Bloodshot, glistening eyes. Wet, dark hair that lost its curl to the weight of the water. Ruddy cheeks. Swollen lips. He looked a mess. 

But, Harry couldn't remember himself ever looking so relieved. 

He carefully gathered his clothes into his arms, ensuring he didn't dampen his borrowed clothing as he exited the bathroom. (Y/N) was there in an instant, having been waiting just outside the door with a softened smile on her features as she offered to take his clothes, already grabbing for them before he'd even relinquished them. 

It wasn't until she returned from the laundry room, telling him something about the detergent, that Harry realized he was crying. Only because (Y/N) had pointed it out with a short gasp, hands instinctively reaching for him before she bundled them together at her chest. 

"Oh, Harry," she cooed, "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what you're going through—" 

"C-Can I hug you?" 

(Y/N) didn't even hesitate before she was gathering him into her arms, Harry's head dropping to her neck with his body pressed flush against hers for no other reason than he hadn't been hugged like this in years. His breathing came in pants against her neck, fanning across her skin while his tears dripped over the curve. (Y/N) settled him as best she could, running a gentle hand over his back while the other swirled through his curls as best she could with their dampened state. 

"'M so relieved," Harry whispered to her when he found his voice, "'M so relieved. Thank you." 

Harry didn't know what he was thanking her for, and he was sure (Y/N) didn't either, but that didn't stop her from holding him tighter.

—————

"Bye, Harry!" 

The delighted shouts that were called through the parking lot at the end of his work day brought a smile to Harry's face. He twisted on his heels, walking backwards for a moment as he waved for all the guys at the mechanic's yard to see. 

"See you all on Monday!" 

Harry couldn't remember ever loving his job the way he loved this one. 

The mechanic was full of some of the nicest people he'd ever met in his life; some grumpy and a bit rambunctious—something he was sure they played up around their quiet accountant, as they called him—but none of them were anything less than welcoming since the day he was brought onto the team. He was excited on the days he worked in office solely because he got to see his friends. There were even nights they went out for drinks or went to a local venue to watch live music, something to relax into the weekend they always told him, and Harry was invited each time. How he worked in an office for almost ten years when this was out there waiting for him, he'd never understand. 

But, Harry didn't like to think about the before years. Thinking about all he missed out on wasn't going to bring back the wasted time, that's what his therapist had told him. 

It had only taken one night at (Y/N)'s and another week and a half at a hotel before Harry had another place lined up—how he was able to manage that, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to say no. It took him one weekend to get his things out of Minerva's house, have her sign the divorce papers he filed the days before, and it was over. His wasted time was up. 

As difficult as Minerva liked to be, when she was done with something, she wiped her hands clean. Just as she did with Harry. She was quick to come to agreements about their assets and belongings, staying true to her word about wanting to take whatever route would be the fastest out of the marriage. 

He didn't mind that she got the house and a sizable chunk of their savings. He could get all of that back, and nothing could compare to the relief and freedom he felt now that he was out of that oppressive house. 

Plus, it was cheaper to go grocery shopping for one. 

(Y/N) had been so encouraging through the first few weeks that Harry was trying to make sense of the new world he had called upon for himself. Never interfering or pushing him to do anything he didn't want to. Everything she told him was about his happiness—putting his happiness first. It was her idea that he reach out to someone to talk to about what happened during his marriage, and how to navigate making his own choices without heavy amounts of doubt pushing him back. 

He hadn't seen her much since the night he crashed at her place, knowing that he needed to spend some time with himself, clear headed and heart in his own hands, before he could be in her distracting presence again. He needed to be the best version of himself first before he could be anyone else's. But, she never backed away from him, always there when he needed her, even if just to talk to someone. 

Harry didn't worry about the dirt on his feet as he opened up the door to his apartment, only shucking off his shoes messily by the threshold. He'd get to them later. 

It'd been three months since he moved in, so the place was a little sparse, but it was perfect in Harry's eyes. He'd never lived by himself before. Everywhere he looked, it was him—his things, his family photos, his memories. He loved his little apartment, no matter if it was a downgrade from a two-story, three bedroom house. This was his first home. 

His clothes were left in the hamper as he changed into a comfy set of clothing. He could do laundry tomorrow, no worries, he reminded himself. He had more important things to do. 

Reaching under his bed, Harry grabbed the final unpacked box he had taken from the attic of the old house. Nothing more was written on the cardboard than Harry's Stuff in Minerva's handwriting. Flipping open the top, he found his university gear (really just a pair of sweatpants he swore got him through exams seasons without any complete failures), a set of messily colored pictures gifted to him from when his niece was only a baby, random items from his childhood, and a leather bound journal. 

The journal was wrapped tightly closed with a matching length of string. The cover was doodled upon with stars and quotes, Harry's name scrawled across the front of the book. It mimicked him, he realized; covered in sketchbook like drawings, but it was all him. 

Inside, he knew there were songs from years ago he probably didn't even remember writing. A smile touched at his features as he untied the string holding the journal together. 

But, before he could flip through the pages again, he knew he had to make a call. 

With his phone to his ear, the ringing echoed in his ears until he heard the telltale click.

"Harry!" (Y/N) happily chirped on the other side, "How are you?

Hearing her voice, he swore it was easier to breathe. "Hi, 'm doing good," he greeted her, voice dreamy and mellow, "Are y'doing anything tonight?"

A beat passed before she spoke again, the smile he could hear in her voice easy to imagine. "I don't think so, why?" 

He promised (Y/N) she would be the first he called when he found his music again. 

"I want to show y'something."

He was happy to wait for her. 

—————

this is....very different for me ngl HUSHFUSHF I had a very different direction I was thinking about when I started this and then completely went off the rails and turned into something sadder than anything else ive written so...thanks for sticking through it I guess shfushfush thank you sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes (and the fact they don't even kiss ???)! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

So I kept thinking about the anon who sent an ask about beast gio and I ended up writing this. Don't worry about the huntsman's heart, it's just next chapter is just gonna be longer than usual.

Thieves in the temple

(Yandere Giorno X female reader)

You and your step sisters had never got along, they were selfish women who took advantage of others and their constant foolish acts had drained every bit of wealth from the family. Your step mother never wanted to blame her sweet angels though, instead she alway scolded your father for spoiling you even when your gifts were small and most of what you did get was stolen by your sisters anyway.

Your father had grown Ill over the last month and you feared that he'd not have much time left. You'd been sneaking off at night to try and find a man to marry in hopes that you'd be able to escape your step family's abuse but as of now you found no man who was interested in you. It seemed now those plans had been ruined now that your father returned. He'd hoped to find a way to cure his ailment however he instead returned with the news that he'd made a deal with a beast. For your request of a simple rose had damned him. He was told that one of his daughters would have to be exchanged for his own freedom. He'd already told you that he'd return to the beast's castle as he couldn't bear the idea of abandoning one of his children.

It only now seemed your sisters cared as they shunned you for making such a request. They wanted you to feel guilty, they wanted you to feel like you were the problem. You knew neither of them were going to care for him but you also knew that you should atone for what you had caused.

On the last night before he was to leave you grabbed his arm and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Father I will take your place, this was all my fault" you said as you tried not to cry.

"No (y/n), it wasn't your fault… I can't stand the idea of you being trapped for the rest of your life" he replied as he tried to separate from you.

"I will go even if you don't want me to. If you are to die soon you are to live your last days as a free man" you told him. He knew you were headstrong and that you would follow him even if he told you not to. He'd given up, knowing that he'd never see his eldest daughter again.

You both trekked through the night to get to the castle on his horse. It'd taken almost two days before you'd arrived in front of the old castle. You'd exchange one final, tearful exchange. With a final hug from your father you'd made your way to the castle door as the sun disappeared from the sky. You heard the crunch of autumn leaves from under your shoes as you made your way to the door. You knocked on the large wooden door before violently swinging open to reveal a hallway lined with candles. You entered slowly looking behind you to see the doors swing close by themselves.

"Hello, anyone here?" You called out. You did not receive a response but you felt that someone or something was watching you. You followed the path the candles had lit through the castle. You wondered what this beast looked like, you had asked your father but he'd refused to explain.

Occasionally you'd stop in your tracks to admire the fine detail and craftsmanship the castle held before a tantalising aroma took over your senses, guiding you to another set of doors. You opened them to reveal a large dining room with a buffet of various delightful dishes. It was almost overwhelming to see how much was there.

"Is anyone here? I can't eat all this all by myself" you called once more. Still you received no response. You sighed before sitting on the soft chair before grabbing your plate and looking at all the food, it was the best you'd ever laid eyes on. You admired how everything looked almost like a work of art, you felt guilty to eat what seemed like hours of cooking but your stomach growled, reminding you that you had to eat. So you began to add portions of some of the food onto your plate.

Every bite was amazing. It was the best meal you'd ever eaten. You thought how nice a glass of wine would be with the meal only to see a glass of rosé beside you. You hadn't noticed it there before but just assumed that you'd been too focused on the food to see It. You savored every bite followed by a small sip between. For a moment you thought you were in the wrong place, surely a monstrous beast wouldn't greet a prisoner by providing them with a luxurious meal. It was certainly strange that you'd been welcomed so kindly.

You finished your meal before the doors opened again to reveal that the candles had changed paths. You followed them again to find they led you to yet another set of doors. You opened them to find a beautiful bedroom with such fine wooden furniture. The bed was the biggest you'd ever seen with a floral patterned sheet and a canopy draped around it. A large stack of wrapped gifts towered beside the large window. You looked again to the bed to see two things between the soft pillows. You pulled them out to find a nightgown in your size and a letter, you opened the letter to see the beautiful cursive of the writer.

Dear (y/n)

To sacrifice your own life so boldly is admirable but do not fear as no harm will come to you, for as long as you live here your every need will be tended to and any wish be granted. You'll be treated like royalty in my castle.

However I ask that you do not roam around the castle during the night nor enter my sleeping chamber at the end of the west wing for I prefer to stay alone.

You wondered if you were dreaming, any need? any wish? treated like royalty? It seemed too good to be true. Surely you'd wake up to find yourself back in your own bed with everything back to normal.

You placed the letter on the bedside before you changed into your new nightgown and hopped into bed. Ready to wake up for this seemed too good to be true.

[dindooku]

right i know i said i would make this mega juicy but the sad boi hours hit and... well. just read it.

i’m sorry.

You thought you wanted to escape.

You thought you wanted to be free.

You thought you wanted to be alone.

Tradegy only strikes when the mind and soul are in disilusionment; when the body is so preoccupied chasing its lust that it refuses to listen to its reason.

Blind.

rating: Mature/Explicit (had descriptions of blood and violence etc and depressive/dark thoughts)

- please be warned this chapter is sad af, so if you can’t/do not want to read about sad boi hours please do not read

word count: 4,940

————————

You didn't bother sleeping that night, your mind was too busy thinking of ways to escape the Mandalorian.

You were nothing but cheated, it felt like. And upon further contemplation, you'd practically convinced yourself that you didn't mean anything to him and that he'd just played you as everyone else had. There were no feelings, no personal sentiments, no attachment between him and you; and it hurt. He'd gotten what he wanted, and would continue to control and manipulate you behind your back, clutching your sense of freedom and chaining you to the cold confines of the Razor Crest.

You didn't want to believe this, though. You wanted more than anything for your mind to be playing tricks on you, and for your feelings, your true hidden feelings to be true. You wanted him to want you, to trust you. you wanted to work as a team, a power-couple you could say. But the fact of the matter at hand is that Mando had no interest in you helping him, working or even having any sort of independence at all.  

You felt so confused.

On one hand, you wanted to stay, to give in and just be the stay at home babysitter Mando wanted you to be. But on the other hand, you wanted to finally be free, to do what you want and just go wild. Gideon had awoken something deep, something dark within you and you knew it'd only be a matter of time before you couldn't contain it anymore. You had to get out and release some energy - you wanted to on Nevarro but Din had stopped you, and you wanted to the other day when he left for his bounty, but yet again Mando demanded you stay on the ship.

It was suffocating.

Your choice was clear. You only really had one option, run. Run as far and as fast as you can. he was one of the best trackers in the galaxy, but you were a vicious machine bred and trained, ruthless and aggressive. You would do anything to taste the sweet buzz of adrenaline again, to feel truly alive once more. You were addicted to it, the smell of violence tugged at your heart, and the sadistic bite of pain made your insides twist and turn in with-drawl. You really couldn't control it any longer. The sweet temptations of the galaxy before you we're all-encompassing.

Back to the plan. It was night, the ship was sunken into the blanket of night. You checked the wall clock, 02:19AM. Perfect; Din would be asleep around now and locked away in his cabin with the Kid - that meant no distractions. You quietly slid out of the bed, silently slipping on your trousers, tunic and everything else you'd need - both your thigh knife holsters and the chest cueress. you slid on the poncho Mando had let you borrow to keep warm and slowly left the cabin.

And you were practically on autopilot. You made no sound as you edged around the hull - ensuring you missed furniture and loose bits of metal as you had memorised the ship in the little time you'd spent on it. You found yourself stood just outside of Din's cabin, right next to the weapons cabinet. You had one shot at this, and you prayed to the maker above that he was in a deep enough sleep to not wake up to the sound of you ransacking his weapons stash. As quietly as you could, you tapped the code into the keypad to the right and the doors swung open, you caught them before they made the classic tap against the wall of the ship.

You didn't have much time, hurry.

You eyed the contents and quickly grabbed the two Karambit knives Mando had gifted you, along with the bag and belt of throwing knives, and two combat Beskar knives too. You *borrowed* a couple of charges as well as a blaster, which you hastily tucked into the back of your pants. You eyed the cupboard for something to holster it in, and you found yourself lucky as you grabbed a secondary thigh holster. You're pretty sure it was one of Mando's shin holsters he used for the Vibro-blade that sat tucked in his boot, but it'd hold the blaster for now and it was small enough to wrap the upper part of your thigh. Perfect. You needed credits too - you hated having to steal from Din, but if you had any chance of getting off if this rock without him, you had to do what was necessary; so you took the bag of credits sat comfy in the corner of the cupboard and emptied a few into your hands. You took what you needed and placed the credits into the pouch with the throwing knives.

With as much caution as before, you closed the doors to the cupboard, to then hastily make your way to the kitchen. You grabbed what you could that was at hand, a few protein bars, an empty flask and a dried packet of fruit. You didn't fill up the flask as you knew the sound of running water would wake Din up - you could find somewhere on the way. He'd left a shoulder satchel in the corner of the room and you swung it over your shoulder, placing more food and other bits into it as stealthily as you could.

You'd got everything you needed, now came the hard part. You crept out of the kitchen and into the main hull, quietly stepping until you were face to face with the ramp. You knew this would wake him up, but you were betting on the fact that he was either in really, really deep sleep or he would be too slow getting up and out to catch the direction you'd be leaving. That was another thing.

Where would you go?

You thought back to your survival training and countless hours spent tracking, stalking targets. You could do this, you were more than qualified. trust in yourself.

You took a deep breath before punching the code into the keypad for the ramp. the loud whir of electric motors grinding into life reverberated through the hull, and you didn't miss the distinctive clash and thud of Din falling out of his bed and trying his best to put his armour on.

But he was too slow.

By the time he'd gotten into the cockpit and aimed his blaster, you were gone.

---

You ran like your life depended on it - well, it pretty much did because you knew if Din caught up to you you were practically dead anyway. The man had pretty good taps on his temper but you were sure that he would just about lose his shit if he got hold of you. And that adrenaline, that fantastic sick rush is what fuelled you to run, and run, and run.

Luckily you had been quick enough to leave the ship, and Din didn't manage to get a grip on which direction you'd left - but you knew he had some sort of tracking gadget in that metal lid of his so you would have to be smart. Find somewhere busy and mix up the tracks, maybe even switch out your footwear or - wait, you could carve a new tread into the soles of your boots; perfect. But not now, because if he was tracking you he'd instantly notice the change - you needed commotion to confuse and render his tracking software useless.

You'd been running for around an hour now - more than your body would normally be able to cope with at this tempo, but you couldn't rest, you had to find a way off of this planet. You took a second to take in your surroundings. The heavy bushland had initially thickened into a desolate forest, but after some time you found the tree density to be thinning out, and after another half hour of running you found yourself at the back entrance to some sort of settlement or town.

You took a second to compose yourself, it was still incredibly early in the morning, but you didn't have time to wait.

You strode into the town, and it became apparent quite quickly that luck was on your side. As you peered around the corner the lights of a shipyard lit up in the far distance of the settlement. It wasn't anything big, but it was enough - a couple of ships lay dormant in the 5 or 6 bays at the far end of town.

You'd never stolen a ship before.

Trying not to act suspicious in case anyone was watching, you walked down through the main street of the town. The grass and moss had all but withered away into a solid dirt track, and the huts made of wood from the forest trees littered the surrounding landscape. It was quiet but serene, and you definitely felt a pang of guilt knowing that you were not the type of person that would be welcome here, you'd only cause trouble; and by the looks of things, they didn't get much trouble around here. Eventually, you found yourself at the entry of the shipyard and you let your eyes roll over the selection of docked ships. Instantly you knew two of the prospective six were off-limits as their owners sat outside, slumped over in their chairs next to each other - and by the looks of the empty bottles of alcohol, they were out for good. This was ideal, things couldn't be better. As you scanned the area, you noticed the ship you'd be taking.

It was an odd shape, but for some reason or another, you couldn't help but feel like you'd seen it before. It was definitely familiar, but from where you wouldn't know. It had a long snout of sorts and was sharp and precise in its craftsmanship. On either side, long triangles perched high, like ears. It was definitely unique, but it was in tidy condition and would do for what you needed.

Taking another look around, you quietly made your way over. To your astonishment, the ship was left unlocked. Surely a ship of this condition wouldn't be left in such a state of complete in-security? Either way, finders keepers.

You pressed the button to open the ramp and quickly made your way inside as it closed behind you. You hurried into the cockpit, instantly recognising the universal controls and powering the ship on. You clicked the holo-map and found the quickest path out of the atmosphere into space, you could worry about where to go later, you just needed to get off the ground. Flipping the switch for the thrusters, you felt the blazing roar of engines vibrate the cockpit and before you could think twice about what you were doing, you'd pulled the control arm back and were lifting into the sky. Turning the ship in a 180 away from the direction of the Razor Crest, you edged your way out from the dock and into the pre-planned flight path you'd programmed just moments before.

And just like that, you were gone. ---

Din awoke to the sound of the Razor Crest ramp opening, and before he could even register what he was doing, he was clumsily stumbling out of his bed and onto the hard dura-steel floor. The Kid awoke with a startled cry, and the bashing and clanking of Beskar being hurriedly worn didn't help matters - he could sense something was wrong. But Din wasn't fast enough, as when the door to his cabin opening and he strode out, blaster pointed and finger itching on the trigger, the hull was empty.

Odd, there's no one here, why - wait.

Din ran over to your cabin but knew better than to barge in. Instead, he hastily rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Hey! Wake up, did you open the ramp, are you ok?" Nothing. Dead silence. He tried again, this time knocking harder and with a bit more haste. "HEY! GET UP," and again, there was no response. Something wasn't right. He knew that breaking into your room was a complete breach of your privacy, but he'd rather deal with the consequences of your wrath than find you hurt, or worse. He shot the blaster into the keypad of the door and it flew open, but what he found was not what he expected. He expected you to either be asleep or to even be mid-fight with an intruder. Not for you to not be there.

This was worse, so much worse.

He turned and punched the side of the wall, groaning out in both parts pain from the impact of his knuckles against the dura-steel, and part from the rage and frustration at the realisation that this was his fault.

You'd left him.

The only person he could ever confide in, to let his guard down and allow himself to have some sort of pleasure in life; the only person he trusted, and you were gone. He didn't have time for this though, he had to find you, apologise, just do something. He couldn't let you just walk away from this, you'd been through too much together, and if you weren't there with him, he couldn't protect you. He'd nearly lost you once, he couldn't do it again.

He all but ran to the weapons locker, grabbing his pulse rifle and a few charges, the usual load-out he would take when tracking a bounty - and that's what he supposed this was, it was his job to track people, its all he'd ever done. Yet he still felt as nervous as his first time - what if he didn't find you?

And then the question of *why* burned its way to the front of his mind. What had he done to push you away like this?  Yes, you'd shared a few intimate moments, but he was under the impression that, well, you enjoyed it just as much as he did... what had he done so wrong to make you want to leave, without even saying goodbye? He understood you were frustrated with him for stopping you from coming with him, but he only wanted what was best for both you and the Kid - taking you both with him was just not on the cards, even on a safe planet like this. You were more than capable of holding your own, that was made evident by the way you handled the Bounty that he'd brought back not a few hours ago. It was incredible, the way you moved so effortlessly but with clear, unhinged violence; it was beautiful, *you* were beautiful - yet he hated the ironic bond you shared with aggression and beauty - it was like you couldn't have one without the other, that your DNA was composed of the complicated connection both traits possessed and any attempt to strip or mutate your makeup would ruin you. Deep down he wished you weren't as skilled as you were because then he would have a reason other than his own selfishness to tell you to stay behind. But, he didn't... you were made to fight like he was, and he was being the biggest damn hypocrite by denying your basic rights to freedom.

He had to put these feelings aside. Focus on the task at hand - finding you and making sure you were safe. He would turn this galaxy upside down, wreak undying havoc among those that stopped him from getting to you.

He had to hunt like his life depended on it.

---

You had safely made it out of the upper atmosphere and were now sat comfortably in the vacuum of space. Your fingers trailed the star map in front of you - desperate to find somewhere to bunker low, maybe even take on some underground work and earn a few extra credits, just enough to tide you over so you can resupply and form a contingency plan.

Yavin...nope, Hoth...nope, Mustafar, definitely not...Tatooine...

Tatooine.

Perfect.

You'd heard of the secluded little dust planet on the outer rim, and it was notorious for its harbouring of the Hutts and criminals alike. That's exactly what you were looking for, you'd fit right in; plus you knew it'd be easy to get work, maybe even an underground bounty or two?

You punched in the flight plan and took a swig of water from the flask you'd just recently filled up. you had struck gold with this ship - it was full of food and medical supplies, and even had an impressive cabinet of weapons too. it was exactly what you needed. So, without hesitation, you were off.

_____

You honestly thought he'd have found you by now, but you mused the growing fear that maybe you were right.

He didn't care about you.

It had been eight months now and Din still hadn't shown his face.

Your time on Tatooine had been one you hadn't expected. You initially fled to the sandbox to get away from Din and abuse the freedom you thought you had earned, but the gimmick soon wore thin and now you were living like a hermit in the middle of the desert. You'd tried to save face after a particularly violent cantina shootout which was incidentally but unsurprisingly your fault, and so you fled the small town of Mos Espa. You trawled the desert for a few days until you came across a nice little secluded cave. Upon further inspection it seemed to be abandoned, the telltale traces of a previous life from long ago littered the inside. Dusty blankets and old kitchenware were tidily packed away as if the previous owner knew they wouldn't return, but they left things in such an order in which anyone would still be welcome in their domain. And so you took solitude in this little hiding spot of yours, bringing the ship back for safekeeping by parking it just next to the entrance of the cave.

The supplies on the ship had lasted you a while, three weeks if you rationed sensibly - but you knew you couldn't keep it up for long so get yourself busy with renovating the place. You came across the skeletal remnants of a water catcher and after a couple of days of tinkering, you got the old bit of kit running. That was your water sorted, now just food.

Whilst you had enough credits to last you a while, you reasoned on finding a somewhat stable source of income that would allow you to buy essentials, bits and pieces and any materials you may need to keep the water catcher running. So, at the start of your second week in your new humble abode, you set out for Mos Espa, and after a few drop-ins and questionable interview tactics, you'd managed to grab yourself a job as a barmaid.

It didn't pay particularly well, but it was just enough to get by and put food on the table. Life was simple.

Sweet.

Innocent.

Something you never thought you would be entitled to, something you knew you didn't deserve the privilege of experiencing. You had done enough damage in your lifetime to warrant another full of debt - and yet you found yourself on your back, counting the stars in a constellation you hadn't seen before, the cold touch of night soothing the phantom pain of singularity - the regret of your choice to be alone.

Because as much as you loved this new quiet life you had manufactured, it was nothing worth substance if you were not to share it with anyone.

You craved the intimate connection forged between two souls - that of which you would read about in mythical books of old, or listen upon as wise words were spoken in hindsight around the dying light of a fire. The indescribable feeling of love, companionship, trust.

It was something you had never felt in completion, and the slightest taste had you craving more to the point of insanity.

You thought you wanted to escape.

You thought you wanted to be free.

You thought you wanted to be alone.

Tragedy only strikes when the mind and soul are in disillusionment; when the body is so preoccupied chasing its lust that it refuses to listen to its reason.

Blind.

But you supposed that it all made sense now. The false pretences you had stumbled across, this home you had forged out of desperation for freedom.

Home isn't the place, the bricks or windows or doors.

Home is where the heart is, and your heart resided in the lost arms of Beskar.

_____

"Hey, Grogu?" Din asked from the pilot's seat. The little green gremlin's head shot up out of recognition, his toothy grin and litte 'eh?' spurring the hidden grin igniting on Din's face.

"You think she's ok, out there?" He asked.

"Patoo?" Grogu grunted.

Din chuckled, turning back to face the viewport before replying, "Y'know, wherever she is. Do you think she is doing alright?" He mused, head resting back against the seat. His search to find any Jedi willing to train Grogu had coming up short. Ahsoka had sent him to the seeing stone; she said Grogu would make his decision. His decision was to stay with the Mandalorian. Din was torn by this, he wanted Grogu to learn the way of his people, to become the incredible Jedi he knew he could be - whatever a Jedi truly was anyway; but he also needed Grogu more than many would realise. Din didn't let it on, but the day you left, he had never been the same. He had Grogu, yes, but that was different.

Grogu gave him something to focus on, something to care and nurture, to keep him grounded whenever he found himself wanting to just fly away from the mess he called a life.

But you gave him something to live for. He'd never mourned the loss of presence, of physical contact. He practically lived by a code that repressed said urges; a code that denied any humility. And yet for the last eight months, all he had done was grieve the loss of your lost promises, his own wishes for comfort.

People deal with loss in different ways, but like you, Din found himself being irresponsible. Hed made stupid mistakes. Hed done things he would never be able to seek forgiveness from for simply speaking the words would surely cast him as nothing but wild. Hed committed sins he knew earned him a first-class seat to the fiery pits of beyond, but the pain of your absence was torturous enough as it was, and he'd rather pay his debt with interest than feel the consequences of your disappearance any longer than he needed to. So after the few wreckless weeks of pure unbridled rage, and after a stern intervention from Cara and Carga, he finally managed to see somewhat straight.

He would find you, he had to. He would hunt you down like prey as his life depended on it.

Because it did.

He was truly alone.

The silence had never been so loud.

The nightmares had never been so violent.

______

You'd never seen the place so busy.

It was your lucky night it seemed, as you handed one of your friendly regulars their eighth drink. The cantina was flourishing, overflowing to the point where your boss Roscoe had to open up the back to allow for the partons to use the backyard as a makeshift drinks garden. It was the height of Tattoine summer and the suns were setting later and later into the night with each day that passed. It wasn't just the high suns and glorious weather that attracted your customers though, it was the now tactfully reduced amount of clothing you were wearing,

See, it was tactical for two reasons.

A - it was extremely hot and wearing any layers more than what was necessary was a form of self-punishment - so your ripped dregs for clothing would have to do. B - the fewer clothes you wore, the more tips you made.

At first, it felt wrong to scala van your body in this way, but you really needed the credits if you were to have any chance of leaving this dustbowl. You were tired of waiting for someone who is not coming back. So, anywhere better than here would do.

A loud whistle sounded from the other side of the bar. Rolling your eyes internally you reminded yourself that your shift ended in half an hour and you could be out of here and back in your bed within the hour. You turned, strolling over to the greasy bounty hunter who had called you over, your exposed hips swaying with more swagger than you actually possessed.

"Yes Honey?" You said in the fake charm you wore in the bar.

"Sweetheart, would you mind passing me a glass of your strongest?" The man winked as he spoke, the yellow and black spots of his lack of dental hygiene making you internally cringe. But you needed the credits and you didn't fancy another bar fight.

"Sure Honey, one half of our strongest is coming right up," you mused, seductively winking as you reached up the bar and grabbed the watered-down bottle of Correllian whiskey.

"Here'y'are Darlin, enjoy," winking as you walked away to serve the next customer. But you froze as you turned.

A metallic shine flashed from the far corners of the cantina, hidden.

Your head whipped around at the pace of stars but landed empty-handed. The stall was empty. You really had thought you'd gotten over the Mandalorian by now, and it had been a few weeks since you'd had any fleeting thoughts or wanton urges. But you could've sworn you saw the telltale reflection of Beskar under neon lights. You shook your head at the thought and proceeded with your next order.

"Pretty thing you are aren't ya?"

"Thanks, Daru, such a poet with your words," you giggled convincingly at the regular. Daru had always been kind but his intentions were always clear. He wanted your body. You'd entertained the thought of it as a means of therapy, but it was fleeting and you swore to yourself you wouldn't fall that low. Daru was a handsome man, yes - honey-rich blonde curls and hazy green eyes spoke something of a mystery, of excitement. But the thought of adventure didn't tickle you like it used to, instead it petrified you. That excitement was only fuelled by one, and that fuel was finite.

"Just for tonight sweetheart, I'll make it worth your while," he murmurs, his lips sealed around the edge of the pint glass but his eyes fixed on yours. You lifted an eyebrow at him out of surprise.

"I'm sure you would Daru, but I am tired and haven't eaten all day, I just want to go home." You admit, hoping that the honesty card would steer him clear of you.

"I'll cook ya something if you like?" He offers.

"Its ok Daru, thankyou," you smiled solemnly - he was in no state to cook let alone perform.

"Why is it pretty women like you always turn down good guys like us, hmm?" He spits. You turn from where you'd been walking away, the previous softness you faked for him now shifting into a cold glare, but he continued despite your silent warning, "do ya just want arseholes who fuck you and leave you in the dirt, who hurt you and take what they want without askin'?"

"Daru..." you warn, your hand slipping to hover over the karambit hidden under the ripped chiffon of your thigh.

"What? Are you gonna beat me up, princess? What is a pretty little thing like you gonna do to a fuckup of a man like me? I've hurt people sweetheart." He hisses, standing aggressively and squaring his shoulders to you from across the bar.

The cantina is silent, all eyes now trained on you.

You tried so, so hard not to lose your shit. And you nearly held it together until Daru spoke one too many words.

"You're just a pretty mouth and a fuckable cunt"

Before he had time to react, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt, his face now only moments away from yours.

"And I've killed people, Daru, I've killed people for a lot less," you whisper to just him. His eyes widen, his realisation that the glint in your eye wasn't that of fear, but of restraint. Daru shifted and pulled but it was no use. You grabbed his empty glass from the side of the bar table and smashed it across his temple, the glass shattering and cutting both his head and your palm. But this didn't phase you as you moved your hand to the back of his head and pushed his temple into the glassy shards littering the table. He screamed as the sandy shards embedded into his flesh, but his plight was short-lived as you plunged the sharpened Beskar which hid on your hip into the nape of his neck, pinning his now lifeless body to the table.

The blood poured like a fine rum.

"Out." You mutter, but it was loud enough for those inside to hear and within a few seconds the room was empty.

"He had it coming." Comes a familiar metallic voice.

"Excuse me?" You chide as you look up, but stalling in your tracks.

There he stood.

The plight of your nightmares for the last year.

Confident and swave.

Regrettably so.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XI

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter X | Chapter XI | Chapter XII

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing, homophobia

WORD COUNT: 7.6k+

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

That night, Yeonjun closed the door to his chambers with a sigh. It was unusually quiet in his room, and the silence made him feel even more unsettled. Not even bothering to take off his boots, he trudged towards the bed and sat down, crossing his legs. He rubbed his forehead, conflicted.

Yeonjun's was loyal. That was one of his best qualities. He was loyal, and unwavering, and always stuck by his allies. It was what he was always admired for, and he prided himself on this trait. This was why Yeonjun was good. He did things without question, without complaint, and he did them well. He always did. Without fail. So why was he struggling this time?

Yeonjun squeezed his eyes tight, scrunching up the sheets into his fists. Everything was just so confusing. He took a deep breath, and tried to unclench his hands from the bedsheets. He'd start from the beginning. The beginning of this whole mess. Maybe then it'd make sense.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

On the night of the Crown Handing, Yeonjun stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the Gojongja palace. It was grand, there was no doubt about it. He gave a small grin. Big castle, lots of people. This would be easy. He made his way up the palace steps, and walked through the large double doors to the ballroom. The grin spread further across his face. This was going to be so easy.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Easy? It looked like there were some complications regarding that matter, but that wasn't going to change anything for him. Though lots of unexpected events had happened during the Crown Handing, which had momentarily thrown Yeonjun off. However, after some discussion with his superior, it was decided that things would still go ahead as planned. And so, here he was, standing in his little corner away from everyone else.

He stared at the rest of the ballroom, bored, tapping his fingers mindlessly against a marble column. It was the second month of revels (month! It had been two months !), and Yeonjun’s patience was wearing thin.He was surprised by how long coronation celebrations were lasting. Was it because there was a new clan on the throne? He didn't know, but it was becoming tiring. He'd been told to make the proposition towards the end of the celebration period, but the celebrations had been going on for days with no sign of stopping. Yeonjun swirled the wine in its glass, looking at the King's Corner which was separated from the rest of the ballroom by a thick lace veil. He sighed, putting down the glass. Whatever . He'd have to do it sooner or later, and he might as well do it now just in case revels ended abruptly. And so, he straightened his uniform, and made his way to the King's Corner.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Kang Taehyun. Yeonjun had been told to be cautious around the Kang, since he was notorious for his quick wit and shrewd observations. Yeonjun thought back to the Crown Handing. It was unusual. The youngest Kang had been named the heir, and yet somehow a whole new clan had managed to ascend to the throne. And Kang Taehyun had played a part in it. A rather large part. But, it wasn't Yeonjun's job to worry about what clan was on the throne. He had a different job.

“Why has your monarch not come to discuss this herself?” Kang Taehyun asked, and Yeonjun saw his hand coming to rest on the sword by his hip. “Why send a representative?”

Yeonjun gazed at him, eyes piercing. The vizier's face remained expressionless, and after a beat, the Aruyeonan toned down his glare. He knew his eyes were unnerving – though amber eyes were becoming increasingly common, they were still rare – but the vizier didn't seem to be unsettled by them at all. Yeonjun blinked lazily, and gave a laugh.

"Will you always let your vizier speak for you?" he asked King Beomgyu. The King gave a not-so-subtle glare to the vizier standing by his side. Yeonjun took a mental note of the hostile look. This could be interesting.

Eventually, Yeonjun managed to convince the King to agree to an alliance. Well, he'd managed to convince the King to consider, and that was as good as done in his book. Part one: complete. Next was the more difficult, more lengthy part two.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Walking out of the Discussion and Tactics room after meeting with Kang Taehyun, Yeonjun felt a sense of satisfaction settle over him. The vizier had agreed to all of Aruyeo's terms. Every single one, and hadn’t seemed dissatisfied with them at all. Queen Erajin sure had a way of manipulating her words to make it seem as if Gojongja would benefit the most. He glanced back, and saw the vizier coming out of the room, and seemed to put something into his pocket. The satisfaction faded from Yeonjun’s face. He’d forgotten about that. He’d forgotten about the thing he’d put in the room. Taehyun wouldn’t know what it was, anyway… right? He shook his head, shrugging. The device was Aruyeonan: no one in Gojongja would know what it was. Yeonjun walked away, humming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun laughed, looking fondly at Beomgyu. It was odd. He'd initially planned to find out information about the court, but he'd ended up befriending the King. Beomgyu was a couple of years younger than him, and was, frankly, adorable. Yeonjun watched as he pouted, trying to focus on the target. His stance looked good, but the moment he released the arrow, Yeonjun could tell it wouldn’t go anywhere near the target. He chuckled and turned to his own target, drawing and releasing his own arrow with barely a glance to where it landed. Beside him, Beomgyu clapped, and he grinned before playfully bowing.

“I did say I was a master at archery,” he said. He smiled as the young king began rambling excitedly. This was going well.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun followed Taehyun down the hallways, trying to get the vizier’s attention.

“So… Taehyun? Kang? Grand Vizier? What do I call you?” Yeonjun watched as Taehyun, now in the Palace Library, bent down to search for a book. He internally panicked when he realised which section of the library they were in. Magical Objects. He found out?

“Okay, so Sir Taehyun…” Yeonjun trailed off, his focus becoming undone. Why was he here again? He heard Taehyun click his tongue irritatedly, standing up to look at him.

“Was there anything else you needed?” he asked, annoyance clear in his tone.

Taehyun obviously wasn’t in the mood. And Yeonjun knew that he’d be able to get nothing out of the vizier in the state he was in.

After apologising for disturbing Taehyun, Yeonjun left, telling himself he’d try again later.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Nimbly, he passed through the halls, skipping past windows before he reached a set of doors. Yeonjun pushed them open and yawned, stretching his arms wide. He grinned. He was glad that he’d managed to acquire and memorise a floorplan of the Gojongja palace before he came, because he’d ended up just where he’d wanted to go. It was morning, and very few people were out and about. Striding down the path, he whistled to himself as he walked into the forest.

“Hmm…. this should do it.”

Yeonjun walked through the forest and came upon a clearing. It was sectioned off from the rest of the forest by a ring of trees, and you wouldn’t be able to see it unless you were explicitly looking for it. Perfect. Just to make sure, Yeonjun looked around before he reached into his pocket to pick up the device. He threw it into the air, and the marble spread open to reveal a hologram of a person.

Yeonjun beamed. “Hueningkai! My little bro!”

The hologram, or Hueningkai, laughed. “Yeonjun! My big bro! How do you like this new marble?”

“It’s so epic,” Yeonjun said, smiling. “You’re a bit blurry, but it’s still so cool. You made this? By yourself?”

Hueningkai laughed again. “You sound surprised. All the marbles are things I made by myself. This one’s a prototype. I wasn’t sure it would work properly, but looks like it does.”

“How does alchemy have anything to do with this though?” Yeonjun asked curiously.

“It has everything to do with it. It’s the chemicals and magic which help make this possible. But anyway, we don’t have that much time. How are things going?”

“It’s going well. The people here are nicer than I thought. Especially Beomgyu. He’s so excitable and bubbly and naive, it’s cute. It’s funny how he can’t do standing archery but he’s amazing on horseback, and how he’s so good at fencing but trips over his own feet a lot.”

“Beomgyu?” Hueningkai’s eyes lit up. “You mean the Beomgyu who came to Aruyeo three years ago and was really nice to me?”

Yeonjun smiled. “Yes, that Beomgyu. Didn’t I tell you? He’s the king now.”

Hueningkai clapped his hands happily. “How is he like? Does he remember you? Does he remember me?”

“He doesn’t remember me, because I was away on a mission, remember? But he does remember you.” Yeonjun laughed endearingly as Hueningkai smiled widely. “Yeah, I get why you became friends with Beomgyu. He’s so much like you.”

“He is, isn’t he? But anyway, I didn’t mean Beomgyu. I meant the mission.”

“O- oh. Yeah. It’s… going. Ish. Like I said, he’s naive. Beomgyu opens up really easily. The servants here are loyal, but will relax if they think you’re just making small talk. Oh–the marble you told me to put into the Discussion and Tactics room? I think Taehyun found it.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “But he won’t know what it is, right?”

“I hope so,” Yeonjun sighed. “By the way, which one is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What does the marble do?”

“Oh, that one’s also a prototype. It’s an eavesdropper combined with a data collector. It’s one of the only hybrids I’ve made.”

Yeojun frowned. “So then what’s the trinitrotoluene doing in there?”

“For it to self-destruct,” Hueningkai explained. “If anyone tries to pierce the glass, it’ll explode.”

“Ah. So that no one will be able to access the data apart from you?” Hueningkai nodded. “Smart. But… will it be okay, now that it’s not in the Discussion and Tactics room?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hueningkai dismissed. “All we needed were records that Gojongja agreed to our terms. It’ll be fine for now, until we have to retrieve it. Do you know where it is?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Yeonjun sighed. “The last I saw, Taehyun had it, but I’m not sure where it is now.”

“That’s fine. We’ll get to it when we get to it.” Through the hologram, Yeonjun saw Hueningkai sit down on a chair. “So do you know specifically what you’re looking for?”

“Um, not really. It’s just the general things I’m usually told to look for. When I’ve gotten enough, I’ll report back, then they’ll tell me if I need to find more. That’s how it always is.” Yeonjun folded his arms, leaning on his other leg. “How are things with you? Doing anything interesting?”

Hueningkai’s eyes lit up. “In fact, I am! You know how seers often have crystal gazing balls?”

“No way,” Yeonjun gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth. “Don’t tell me you found a way to make them!”

Hueningkai laughed happily. “God, no! But close! It’s like a looking-glass thing. It can help you see what’s happening somewhere else at that exact moment. So it can’t see the future, but it can see present events.”

“How does that work?”

“I need some part of that person’s DNA to do it,” Hueningkai explained. “Like a hair or a drop of saliva. Then, I can use it to see what they are doing.” He frowned. “At least, theoretically I can. Right now, all it shows me are their feet.”

Yeonjun snorted, and Hueningkai gave an embarrassed smile. Yeonjun was going to say something else, but then twig snapped. Yeonjun turned around, startled. “Sorry Hyuka, but I think someone’s here. Gotta go, talk to you later!” Yeonjun quickly waved a hand through the hologram, making it flicker and disappear. He looked around, trying to find the culprit of the noise. Then, a horse stepped through the trees, and bent down to graze under a birch. Its pale red scales reflected the sun, and Yeonjun startled slightly at its odd appearance, but quickly relaxed.

“Hey there,” he said softly, approaching it. “You’re a right beauty, aren’t you?” The horse looked up, and watched calmly as Yeonjun approached. “Should I take you back? Perhaps.” He stroked the horse’s muzzle, making sure it was calm, before swinging his leg over its back. “Maybe I’ll show Beomgyu this place too. He might like it.”

As he was riding back, it didn’t even cross his mind that he’d wanted to show Beomgyu the clearing purely because he wanted to see the king smile.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun watched as Taehyun swiftly began to eat, completely ignoring his presence. He pursed his lips in irritation. The vizier was a tough nut to crack. What might break his shell? Yeonjun thought back to that afternoon, when Taehyun had sarcastically mentioned Beomgyu going on a date. Ah. Beomgyu.

“Sir?”

Taehyun looked up at him, annoyed, swallowing a mouthful of food.

“Forgive me for seeming rude, but… why is it that you don’t seem to like anyone at all?”

Yeonjun watched his face carefully, and saw Taehyun’s facial features become just a little more guarded.

“Well,” he began slowly. “You never know who you can trust.” Taehyun looked up at Yeonjun. “Some people just aren’t… trustworthy.”

He’s not onto me, is he? Yeonjun smiled mildly. “I understand that. But with people you know, why is it that you still don’t like them?”

Taehyun’s face became a little more weary, and he set down his cutlery. “You’re talking about Beomgyu, aren’t you? In his case, I suppose… just because you know someone well doesn’t mean you like them.”

“But judging by how Beomgyu talked, you did like him for a time?” Yeonjun startled a little as the cutlery clattered out of Taehyun’s hands, onto the ceramic plate.

“Don’t speak of such things like that,” Taehyun said in a quiet, fierce voice. Yeonjun’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He’d forgotten how homophobic Gojongja were. “And just because we used to be friends doesn’t mean we’re friends now. Things change.”

Yeonjun, after composing himself, nodded thoughtfully. He now knew a little about how Taehyun worked. He was a true Gojongja citizen. A smart one at that. He won’t like to have his mistakes pointed out to him, will he…?

“You do know that the whole business of Beomgyu being King is odd, don’t you? Especially since I can gather that you two are enemies. Additionally, on the day of the Crown Handing it almost looked like you’d planned to make Beomgyu king.”

Yeonjun watched Taehyun carefully, and was rewarded when the vizier looked up at him sharply. He smiled inwardly, and calmly turned to his food. “I’m just saying what it looked like.” Yeonjun took a big bite out of his meal, ignoring Taehyun’s piercing stare. The vizier was obviously shaken by the comment. As he chewed, Yeonjun thought about his own words. Perhaps the observation he’d made had some truth in it. Had Taehyun planned to let Beomgyu take the throne? Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Taehyun sipped his drink worriedly. Kang Taehyun… you’re an interesting one. Are you hiding anything else?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun looked around, scratching his head. “I swear I’ve been here before,” he muttered. “Did I take a wrong turn?” He spun on his heel, staring at the tapestry behind him. “How could I have ended up here?”

“Excuse me? Sir?”

Yeonjun turned around to see a small servant girl looking up at him.

“If you don’t mind, are you lost?”

Yeonjun blinked, and gave a small chuckle. “Yes, it appears I am.” He looked around at the many corridors. “I am very lost.”

The girl beamed. “Oh, that’s okay! This is a very big palace, so it’s understandable. When I first came, I became lost many times too. Where is it that you want to go?”

“His Greatness’ room, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! I’ll take you there.”

Yeonjun followed the girl down the hallways silently. They eventually stopped by a door.

“Here we are! I will be on my way now.” The girl bowed, and was about to walk away when Yeonjun called out to her.

“Wait… how old are you?”

“I am eleven, sir.”

“Eleven?! You’re a foreigner, aren’t you? How did you end up working in Gojongja?”

“I fled here with my younger sister. We come from a country which is currently in the middle of a war, and came here because we heard that Gojongja would welcome us.”

“Gojongja? Not Aruyeo?”

“Yes, sir. Gojongja is the place most welcoming of foreigners. To me, it is the kindest of all the Four Kingdoms. Though Aruyeo accept many sexualities, Gojongja accept people from anywhere. They are generous, and kind, and though they may not win every battle like Aruyeo do, they are still strong. I have even come to consider Gojongja my home.” The girl smiled. “The people here are among the nicest I have ever met.”

Yeonjun stood there, before nodding his head slowly. “Well, Gojongja truly is a nice place.”

“It is. I love it with all of my heart.”

Yeonjun bowed his head. “You may leave now.”

“Of course. Have a nice day, sir!” The girl gave another grin, and skipped down the hallway. Yeonjun watched her go. Suddenly, for the first time ever, a small doubt crept its way into his mind. Your Supreme Highness… how can I do such a thing to people like this?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Yeonjun knocked on the door, and stepped inside. He was taken aback when he registered this was not His Greatness’ room. Yeonjun checked the plaque on the door, and groaned inwardly. The Great Room? Seriously? He looked around and took in the bookshelf taking up one wall, the grand piano in the middle of the room, and the students standing in rows. A music room. Who the hell names their music room ‘The Great Room’?

“Oh! Lord Yeonjun from Aruyeo, am I correct?” the woman smiled pleasantly. “Would you like to stay and watch our music lesson?”

Yeonjun stammered. “I… uh…” He shrugged. “Alright.”

“Wonderful!” The lady clapped her hands happily, and gestured to a seat. “Here, you can have a seat here. Now class, let’s sing again from the top!”

She went over to the grand piano standing in the middle of the room, and began playing. The children sang along to the piano, and the sweet melody washed over Yeonjun. He took in the harmonies, the chorus of voices, the gentle chords of the piano.

Suddenly, a wave of sadness engulfed him. The woman’s piano playing reminded him of Hueningkai. All he could think about was how much Hueningkai loved to play the piano, nimble fingers dancing happily over the keys, coaxing beautiful melodies from even the crankiest pianos. Hueningkai, who was so innocent and painfully optimistic. Hueningkai, who was kind and generous even when the world was not kind and generous to him. Hueningkai, who had only ever wanted to be happy.

Yeonjun blinked, fast, and acknowledged that the song was coming to an end. He clapped politely, a small smile on his face. All these children… so youthful and naive. They reminded him so much of Hueningkai it hurt.

He looked away, out the window. Hueningkai… do you think we’re doing the right thing?

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Oh, let me help you with that!”

Yeonjun looked up as a young stable boy came rushing up to him, taking some of the horse brushes out of the Aruyeonan’s hands. He looked up, and smiled brightly at Yeonjun.

“It looked like you were having some trouble there, sir! Have you just come back from riding?”

Yeonjun was slightly startled by how kind and friendly the stable boy was being. “I… yes, I have. I was just cleaning up the horse.”

“That’s good, sir,” the stable boy said conversationally, walking with Yeonjun back to the stables. “Most Lords ‘round here, they don’t care ‘bout the horses’ wellbeing. They think it’s up to stable boys like me to keep ‘em clean. Nice to see someone is looking after their horse after they’ve finished riding.”

They arrived at the stable, and the boy helped Yeonjun put the equipment away into the box. He straightened, and gestured to the full bucket of dirty water in Yeonjun’s arms. “Would you like me to take that for you?”

“I- uh, if you want.”

The young boy beamed and took the bucket. “I’ll show you where it ought to be put, if you’d like.”

Yeonjun followed the stable boy silently, rather overwhelmed by his brightness. It was strange. This boy was working such a taxing, gruelling task, looking after horses which were apparently not treated very well by the Lords, and yet he managed to smile and walk with a spring in his step.

“You’re the Aruyeonan, aren’t you?” the boy said brightly, looking up at Yeonjun.

“Y- yes, yes I am.”

“We heard you’re here to form an alliance.” He smiled widely, revealing gappy teeth. “That would be nice. Gojongja have been independent for so long… I wonder what it’s like to have an alliance, to have someone else to support you when you struggle to support yourself, and to be there to support someone when they are stuck. It’s like a friendship, isn’t it? You help each other out.”

Yeonjun decided not to comment on that. The boy’s view on an alliance was a rather childish, innocent one, but Yeonjun didn’t want to tarnish it with cynical truths. “I suppose it is,” he said finally. “You said you’d like an alliance?”

“Yeah! Like I said, Gojongja have been pretty solitary. And I mean, solitude is nice, ‘cause then no one can backstab us or anything, but in an alliance, they’re bound to be trustworthy, right? It’s all about trusting each other. Like a friendship!”

Yeonjun smiled weakly. “Yeah… right…”

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh gosh, I just realised I’ve been rambling again! The stable-master always told me off for rambling. I’m so sorry.” He bowed several times. Yeonjun blinked, feeling a little shocked.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” Still the boy’s head remained bowed, so Yeonjun crouched down to look him in the eye. “Don’t apologise for sharing your thoughts,” he said firmly. “Never apologise for speaking out. You are entitled to your own opinion, and you have that right.” He quirked a small grin. “But maybe don’t discuss politics with every Lord you meet. Most of them won’t like it.” The stable boy’s eyes were still wide, but he gave Yeonjun a smile.

“Alright, thank you Mr Aruyeonan!” There was a yell in the distance, and he jumped. “That’s the stable master! I'd better get going! See you, Mr Aruyeonan!”

Yeonjun watched the young boy race back to the stables, and the smile died from his lips. He thought back to what he’d said. “An alliance is like a friendship…?” He shook his head. “No, no it’s not. It’s not. It’s more political and professional than that.” He began to walk back to the palace. Though he tried to dismiss the child’s words, they rang in his head, and an uncomfortable coil settled in the pit of his stomach. “No, he’s young. Don’t think about it, Yeonjun…”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

As these days increased, and Yeonjun grew to know the Gojongja court better and better, the feeling of uneasiness grew. Generally with his missions, he’d always have a specific task in mind, but this time, the topic he'd been given was so broad. Initially, he’d been nervous with having such an ambiguous subject, but now he was nervous because something didn’t feel right. One night, he decided enough was enough. He needed to properly think.

The next morning, he awoke early, letter in hand, when he crossed paths with Beomgyu.

“Your Greatness!” Yeonjun bowed. “You’re up early?”

“Good morning, Yeonjun! And yes, I am! We are to have a revel today, to tell the people about the alliance.” The King took in Yeonjun’s appearance, and tilted his head. “What are you doing up so early? You look like you’re dressed to go somewhere.”

“I want to deliver a letter,” Yeonjun said, showing the envelope for emphasis. “I’m going to deliver it myself, though. This person is someone… who prefers if I come in person.”

“Alright. How will you get there?” Beomgyu took in Yeonjun’s leather gloves, and tall black boots. “You’re riding? All the way to Aruyeo?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yeonjun said sheepishly.

“Of course not!” Beomgyu grinned. “I’d offer to let one of our messengers take it for you, but you look adamant about delivering it yourself. Take Orion. He’s most capable of going long-distance.”

Yeonjun bowed. “Thank you, Your Greatness. Good luck with your revel!”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Riding through the streets of Aruyeo, the people immediately parted to let Yeonjun through. They didn’t question the strange horse and just let him pass. Everyone knew Yeonjun and who he worked for. He thundered through the city, straight towards the castle.

Once Orion had been taken to the Aruyeonan stables - “Handle him carefully, he’s a rare breed, and from Gojongja” - Yeonjun made his way through the hallways, until he was standing in front of a familiar door. He’d barely knocked before it was flung open, the face which greeted him beaming brightly.

“Yeonjun!”

Hueningkai threw his arms around Yeonjun, and the elder laughed, ruffling Hueningkai’s hair. “Kai! How have you been?”

Hueningkai extracted himself, and pulled Yeonjun inside, closing the door firmly behind him. “Oh, you know,” he said, shrugging. “Same old, same old. Make explosives. Make marbles. Find a new chemical combination. Repeat. I haven’t been out of this room since you left, so don’t worry.”

Yeonjun smiled fondly, ruffling Hueningkai’s hair again. “You’re okay, right? No one said anything?”

“No one’s dared to say anything to me in over twelve years,” Hueningkai said, smiling. “It shocked them all when we suddenly rose in the ranks of the Queen’s favour.”

Yeonjun looked sadly at Hueningkai. “I’m sorry we had to go to such extreme measures. It was the only way, you know that right?”

“I’m fine, Yeonjun. It’s okay. But tell me, why are you here? When we talked last night, you were very vague. What’s going on?”

Yeonjun’s face grew grave. “The people in Gojongja are… too nice. But not in like, a suspicious way. They’re just genuinely nice. Everything they do is just so good. I don’t know… I just feel like something isn’t right.”

“What, in Gojongja?”

“No, no. Here. In Aruyeo. In court.”

Hueningkai tilted his head. “I’m not following.”

“It’s just…” Yeonjun bit his lip. “It’s hard to explain. Here in Aruyeo, the atmosphere is… more suffocating, I guess? For me. There are so many secrets within this court, so many lies and half-truths. Hell, we’re one of the secrets. It just feels so stifling. I could feel it as soon as I set foot inside the castle. In Gojongja, though… it just feels a lot lighter. There’s so much trust within their court. I- I can’t explain properly, but when you’re there, it’s so obvious. I wish you could come.”

“Then I will.”

“What?”

“I’ll come. You’re a good people-reader, Yeonjun, but I want to see this for myself. We don’t want to jump to conclusions.” Hueningkai had gotten up, and was rummaging through his drawers for something. He pulled out a large glass ball, smiling proudly. It looked like a huge bubble, and was about the size of a beach ball. “In here are the bare minimum of provisions I packed for myself, if ever the time came when I’d need to leave quickly. I’ve got sand, rock samples, and all sorts of other things which I need to make my marbles.”

Yeonjun gaped in shock. The ball looked completely empty, but he had no doubt about what Hueningkai had said. “Wh… what? How? What chemical combination did you use this time?”

“It’s one my clan taught me,” Hueningkai said. “I was just bored one day and messing around with the chemicals, but then my hands seemed to know what to do almost immediately.”

Yeonjun whistled, impressed. “Benefits of having alchemy as an ability, right? That’s freaky, but so cool.”

Hueningkai flinched at the word ‘freaky’, and Yeonjun’s face quickly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, Hyuka, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Hueningkai muttered. He gave a small smile, and tapped the ball. “I need to make a few adjustments though. Do you wanna rest? I have no doubt you rode all the way from Gojongja to here.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Yeonjun admitted. “...Alright. Just a few hours. We need to go soon if we want to get there by sundown. Wake me up when it's time, okay?”

Yeonjun stumbled over to the bed, and as soon as his head touched the pillow, he was fast asleep. Hueningkai watched over his sleeping form, and gently ruffled the elder’s hair.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Yeonjun. If it wasn’t for me, we could lead normal lives. We wouldn’t have to be spies.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The first time Yeonjun had been due to leave for Gojongja, he and Hueningkai had spent many hours poring over the blueprints they’d managed to acquire of Gojongja’s Palace. Their skilful memorisation came in handy at that moment. Hueningkai, under the cover of darkness, managed to slip through the hallways to the room which Yeonjun was staying in, barely bumping into anything on his way. Yeonjun took the longer way round, and as he walked past the ballroom, he gasped. There was so much glass all over the floor, and some small fires were burning through ivy tendrils. He hurried past, conscious of the muddy footprints he was leaving behind. What had happened?

As he rounded a corner, he saw Taehyun standing in the middle of the corridor.

“Sir Taehyun!”

Taehyun turned around, not bothering to hide the frustration on his face.

“I saw all the glass in the ballroom,” Yeonjun said, coming up to the vizier. “And there’s a lot of blood, and some fire. What happened?”

As soon as those words left Yeonjun’s mouth, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. Taehyun’s face darkened even further. His mouth twisted into a frown, and he spoke in a sarcastic, annoyed tone.

“Well the announcement went fine. What do you think happened?”

Yeonjun almost backed away from the vizier’s menacing glare.

“Just go to your chambers. Don’t interfere.”

Yeonjun hesitated. He would have been fooled by the vizier’s vicious tone, but there was something decidedly off about it. Behind Taehyun’s fierce mask, he could see how scared and shocked he was. He wanted to reach out and ask him what was wrong, ask him if he was okay. But, deciding that Taehyun was far too emotional to appreciate his help, he bowed, and walked away.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Hueningkai hummed, tapping the wall. “Doesn’t seem to be much of a bright atmosphere here in Gojongja.”

“You came at the wrong time,” Yeonjun sighed. “The people found out about the alliance in the worst way possible, apparently. So things aren’t going too great right now.” He looked over at Hueningkai. “Are you okay? I just realised it’s probably really boring for you to be here all alone.”

“You worry too much,” Hueningkai dismissed. “I’m fine. We’ll be staying here for a while, right?”

“Yeah. Until things calm down, and the alliance fully takes place, we’ll be in Aruyeo.”

“Okay.” Hueningkai chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Okay. And I'll have to stay in this room, right?"

"Yeah. They don't know you're here, so it's best for you to not leave." Yeonjun sat down in the chair next to Hueningkai. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache which was on its way. Hueningkai silently wrapped his arms around the elder, pulling him into a hug.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The following days, Yeonjun stayed in his room as much as he could. Once, when he had gone out for some fresh air, he’d returned to find his room empty. He’d panicked. A few hours later, though, Hueningkai showed up.

“Hueningkai! Where were you?”

Hueningkai looked at Yeonjun apologetically, seeing the angry and worried look on the elder’s face. “Sorry. I should have told you earlier. I’m building a room.”

“A what?”

“Down there.” Hueningkai pointed to the wall beside the bed. “I’m building a secret room where I can do my experiments without bothering you.”

Yeonjun breathed a sigh of relief. “So long as no one catches you. But please tell me before you do something like that! I literally had a heart attack when I saw you were missing.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a spy, just like you are. I know how to handle myself.”

“That won’t stop me from worrying about you.” Yeonjun ruffled the younger’s hair. “Hueningkai, I know you haven’t been out much, but… you can feel the difference, right?”

The younger hesitated, but nodded his head. “Yeah. I kinda see what you meant. Even though everyone is really stressed and busy here in Gojongja, it doesn’t feel suffocating. It made me realise how stifling the court is back at home.”

“Right?” Yeonjun agreed. “And also, the people here are so nice.”

Hueningkai gazed out into the distance. “I want to be able to see Beomgyu… it’s been ages.”

Yeonjun patted the younger’s shoulder consolingly. “He’ll probably freak if he finds you in the palace, unfortunately, since you’re not meant to be here. Plus, the vizier is super scary and will most likely kick us out before you can even say ‘hi’.”

Hueningkai smiled. “Sir Taehyun is that intimidating, huh?”

Yeonjun fake-shivered. “You have no idea. But still, I’m determined to befriend him.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

It was late at night. Yeonjun, having trouble sleeping, decided to walk around the palace until he grew tired. His mind was still plagued with the usual troubles, worried about whether he was doing the right thing. He was passing the palace gymnasiums when he heard the familiar swish of a sword being swung in the air. Under one of the gymnasium doors, light streamed out and Yeonjun could make out a long shadow, practising by themselves. He opened the door a sliver to see Taehyun, sparring with the air. His face was slick with sweat, and his breaths came out in laboured pants, yet he still continued to spar. From where he was, Yeonjun could see how his face was scrunched up in concentration, and he winced as he noticed how white his knuckles were around the hilt of the sword.

He didn’t know how, but suddenly he’d grabbed one of the practice swords from the racks and was standing in front of Taehyun, silently sparring with him. Yeonjun registered the look of surprise on the vizier’s face but ignored it, wordlessly pushing him to work harder.

Neither of them said a word. There were no words needed. Yeonjun noticed with some approval that Taehyun’s grip had corrected itself, and his stance looked firmer than before. However, it was no match for Yeonjun’s spy-trained skills, and eventually, with Taehyun being too tired out to notice, Yeonjun managed to bring the blunt edge of his sword up to the vizier’s neck. Both of them were panting heavily. Then, Taehyun spoke.

“I yield.”

Yeonjun stared at him, before registering his words and dropping his blade. He gave a small grin. “You did good.”

Taehyun abruptly turned away from him, walking over to the water table. “Why are you here?”

Yeonjun followed him, giving an explanation as to why he was there. It was made of half-truths, since he didn’t want to give anything away about what he was actually doing. He took a big gulp of water and set down the glass, shaking his head in fake disappointment. “You were so stressed that you were tensing up your wrists far too much.” Yeonjun saw as Taehyun’s eyebrow twitched irritatedly. Even in his worn-out state, the vizier still hated his mistakes pointed out to him.

“And was it because I was stressed?”

“Yeah.” Yeonjun poured himself another glass of water. “When you actually spar, your technique is crazy good.” Taehyun didn’t say anything for a few moments, and his face gave nothing away. Yeonjun worried he’d overstepped some line, and set down his glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted you. You haven’t wanted to see me in the hallways, so I don’t know why I thought it’d be alright to see you while you were sparring. If you want, I can go now.”

Yeonjun was turning away when Taehyun suddenly spoke.

“Your technique is really good. The Falcon Twist - I haven’t seen someone perform it that well before.”

Yeonjun felt a swell of pride, and looked back with a grin. Taehyun continued talking, looking a little nervous.

“Also, the way you attack is so fast. And when you defend, as well.”

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile wider, a strange warmth blooming in his chest. He walked back to the vizier, and held out his hand. A peace offering. “Want me to teach you?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

They kept up the routine for several more days. At night, Yeonjun would always come down to find Taehyun already deep in the middle of practice, and the two would just spar wordlessly until they took their first break. From then on, they'd discuss tactics, techniques, and how to improve their strategies. With time, their discussions gradually moved towards more personal things, and Taehyun began to open up more. He told Yeonjun of his worries about being the Grand Vizier, and the stress and toll it was taking on him.

When Yeonjun returned to his room one night after sparring with Taehyun, flopping onto the bed, Hueningkai made an observation.

"I think you're genuinely trying to befriend this Kang Taehyun."

Yeonjun turned his head, facing the younger. "About that. I think I'm going to stop with this mission."

Hueningkai, who had been focused on building a house of cards, suddenly stood up, knocking the fragile structure over. "Are you crazy?! If she finds out, she's gonna kill you!"

"I know. But I'm trusting my gut here. Before, I felt no remorse doing these things to other Kingdoms, but here… even just thinking of betraying these people makes me feel sick. I just can't do it." He thought to the foreign servant girl who spoke of Gojongja with such love in her eyes. He thought to the young children, singing and learning music without a care in the world. He thought to the young stable boy, bright-eyed and talkative, who had seemed to see nothing but the good things in life. Lastly, he thought of Taehyun and Beomgyu, who spoke of their Kingdom with such love and passion, who were such truly good people that they made him doubt everything in the first place. Closing his eyes, he brought his hands to his face. “I just can’t.”

Hueningkai looked scandalised. "I don't believe it! How good must a person be to make you want to stop? You've been a fervent ally of Queen Erajin for more than a decade. Who could break this loyalty?"

Yeonjun sat up. "Wait– I’ll show you. Tomorrow night, come down with me. I can’t show you everything, but I can show you the one who made the most difference. You can hide in the shadows. Then you’ll see just how good they are. Then you'll see what kind of person Taehyun is."

.・゜-: ✧ :-

That following night, Yeonjun pushed open the doors to find Taehyun in a rather different position.

“Sup,” he said, and Taehyun opened his eyes, unfolding himself from the yoga position he’d been in.

“Hello. I decided to do a bit of stretching today.”

Yeonjun kicked off his boots, and saw Hueningkai standing in a hidden alcove. The younger crouched down and gave Yeonjun a thumbs up. He looked back to Taehyun. “Do you have a routine in mind?”

And just like that, the two settled into their silent routine. They both did their own stretches in their own time, relishing the silence between them. It was all quiet, until Taehyun spoke.

“Everything is so fucking stressful right now.”

Yeonjun, head upside down, quirked an eyebrow. We’re going straight to the confiding, are we? Yeonjun listened as Taehyun ranted out his worries, detailing everything and how it was affecting people. He didn’t talk, didn’t interrupt; he just listened silently, letting Taehyun speak for as long as he needed to.

Taehyun sighed, and sat back. “I really care about these people. Beomgyu said we shouldn’t employ the military, but I think we should. The people won’t fight against them, I know it; it’s just to scare them and deter them from rebelling. But every time I try to explain that to Beomgyu, he won’t listen.”

“Then do it.”

“Huh?”

Yeonjun was feeling Taehyun’s confusion at that moment too. He didn’t know why he spoke. But now that he had, he couldn’t stop. He tilted his head. “Do you think it’s a dumb decision? The one that Beomgyu made.”

Taehyun’s face twisted in confusion, unsure where this was headed. “Uh… not really? I can see why he might not want to use force. But he didn’t see that it’s just to scare them.”

Yeonjun sighed. Taehyun always took things too seriously! “Answer the question in a proper way. I’m tryna help you here.”

“Okay…?” Taehyun said, confused. “In that case… yeah. It’s a dumb decision.”

Yeonjun grinned. “Okay, so you can just say that Beomgyu made a decision, but because it’s a stupid-ass decision, you’ve decided to ignore it.”

Taehyun blinked. Yeonjun could see the gears turning inside his brain. A smile spread across the vizier’s face. “I like your thinking.” He scrambled up onto his feet, tugging on his boots. “I gotta go inform the Head General! Bye!”

Yeonjun smiled as the vizier rushed out of the gymnasium, then he remembered Hueningkai. He looked back.

“So? Do you get what I mean?”

Hueningkai came out of the shadows to slowly sit down beside Yeonjun. “I do,” he said. “Yeonjun… I think you’re right. Let’s change sides.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Now that Hueningkai had agreed with him, Yeonjun felt more sure than ever. He spent his time actually befriending Taehyun, instead of ‘befriending’ him to earn his trust. Though there were still secrets, Yeonjun was determined to eventually clear them away.

“Hey Taehyun?”

“Hm?”

"Do you… do you remember, about four days before the revel? I requested you come visit for some bonding time?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that. I wasn't in a good mood."

"It's fine. I just…" Yeonjun hesitated. Should I tell him now? Or should I wait? "Let me know when you properly trust me, okay?"

Taehyun blinked, but smiled. "Alright. I will.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Yeonjun!”

Yeonjun turned around, and his face melted into a grin as he saw Taehyun approach.

“How are you?”

“I’m doing good. Have you talked with the Head General yet?”

“That’s actually where I’m headed,” Taehyun replied. “They don’t have a lot of time, but I’m going to meet with a representative who’ll figure out when we can sit down and talk.”

“Nice!” Yeonjun grinned. “How will Beomgyu react?”

“He’ll probably flip if he finds out,” Taehyun admitted. “But he just really cares about the people. Hopefully he can see that this won’t harm them.”

“Fingers crossed, then!”

“Yup. Fingers crossed.” Taehyun paused, as if he’d remembered something. “Oh yeah. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but…” Taehyun reached out a hand and patted Yeonjun’s shoulder. “I trust you. Properly.” He gave a small grin to the Aruyeonan, and walked away. Yeonjun blinked as the vizier turned the corner, and a smile spread across his face but quickly died. He’d just spotted someone in the distance. He squinted, but the person was already gone. Was that…? He shook his head. It couldn’t have been. He was just seeing things. Yeonjun looked back the way Taehyun had come, and his stomach filled with nerves.

“He trusts me now,” Yeonjun murmured to himself. “It’s now or never.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

That brought them back to that day. Yeonjun sighed, looking up at the ceiling. The soft pads of feet alerted him to Hueningkai’s presence.

“Sir Yoongi is in Gojongja now.”

Hueningkai paused. Even in the darkness, Yeonjun could see his eyes widen. Yeonjun spoke again.

“He’s their Antiquarian.”

“You mean… my Sir Yoongi? The mentor Sir Yoongi, who taught spies alchemy?” Hueningkai asked. “The one who disappeared years ago?”

“The very same one.” Yeonjun pulled a pillow over his face and sighed into it. “He knew, Hueningkai. He knew something was wrong with Gojongja, even before we did.”

Hueningkai was silent. “He’s lived in Aruyeo for a very long time. He probably noticed the changes.”

“That’s what he said. He said he could feel the changes in the atmosphere.” Yeonjun peeked under the pillow. “Also, he’s figured out it was you who made that marble. The one I planted in the Discussion and Tactics room.”

“Oh, that marble… he won’t be able to figure it out what it does though. To examine it, he’ll need to break the glass, which he knows will make the marble explode. He won’t try it. Don't worry about that.” They were silent for several moments. Hueningkai looked over at Yeonjun. “Yeonjun… maybe we should tell Taehyun. He said he trusts you, and even if his trust isn’t enough, we should tell him before someone else does.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Yeonjun took the pillow away from his face, and Hueningkai promptly snatched it and hugged it to his chest. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. Definitely.” Yeonjun sighed, nestling into the blankets. “I just hope he doesn’t hate us by the end of it…”

[monaownsmyass]

The Night We Met (Mona x MC)

Pairing: Mona x MC

About: Mona and MC meet for the first time since the Mercy Park Crew went their own way. They spend one last night together before Mona is on the run again.

Genre: Romance/ Fluff

Word count: 2103

Note: This story occurs after the final chapter of Ride-Or-Die but instead of getting caught by the cops, Mona is on the run. I have busy for the past few months but I also missed Mona enough to find time to write this short fic lol. My first time writing a fan-fic so please be nice! Thanks for reading! :)

Meet me tomorrow at 7:30 p.m. At our park. You know where.

I glanced down at the familiar writing on the scrap of paper I received just the night before. I took a deep breath and settled down on a bench under a street light at the park. Our park.

I was nervous. Having not seen her in 9 months made me feel a whirlwind of emotions. I was surprised, to say the least, when I found out she wanted to meet up.

Her on the run meant going under the radar. Going under the radar meant no hand phones. No hand phones meant that it was hard to keep in touch. In a way, I think that's what she wanted. Not for her sake. Never hers. She did it for me.

Exchanging random notes and letters every month or so was barely enough. Nothing is ever enough with her. I craved to talk to her more, find out what she's been up to and where she is now. All I get is the bare minimum, saying she's doing alright. I suppose I can't really be mad at that, seeing if the cops ever got hold of the notes she sent, she might as well just hand herself in.

I glanced at the tattered note once again and then at my watch. It was already 7:45p.m.

Maybe she's not gonna show up after all.

I sighed sadly and got up from the bench when I heard a rustling sound from behind me. That sound was then followed by a slightly husky yet smooth sounding voice.

"Hey, gorgeous."

I swirled around to find the girl I've dreamt about every day since we parted.

"I hope you weren't planning on leaving," she spoke with that stupid arrogant smirk that I missed so much.

"Mona," I barely whispered. I was too stunned to do or even say anything else. She was really here. This isn't a dream.

"Sorry for making you wait, I thought it'd be nice to get you a little something or whatever." She gestured to the bouquet of flowers which I've just only noticed.

I glanced at the flowers then back at her. Her willowy figure. Her black hair, now illuminated by the street light. Her jacket that I would so often steal before we ended up in this mess. Her lips. Her face. Her eyes. Her dark eyes which were now staring directly into mine, daring me to make the first move as I once did so many months ago when we kissed for the first time. All of her. It really was Mona. My Mona. And, wow, was she breathtaking.

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotions, I ran and jumped into her arms as my sight became blurry with tears.

"Woah, there!" Mona dropped the flowers in time to catch me. My arms were tightly secure around her neck and my legs wrapped around her waist, hanging on to dear life. I was. I buried my face in the crook of her neck and began to sob quietly.

"Well, looks like someone missed me," she stated in that cocky tone of her.

So overcome with emotions, I didn't even bother to reply with a sarcastic or witty response to fight back her arrogance.

"I did. I missed you," I breath out into her neck. I unwrapped my legs from her waist but still trapped her with my arms. Her arms were still around my waist too, not wanting to let go. "So goddamn much."

Hearing the sadness in my voice, she relaxed a bit in my arms and put away her facade and the wall that she has built around herself.

"I missed you too," sincerity and vulnerability dripping from her voice. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to walk up to your front door and throw all caution in the wind just to see you again."

My heart slammed against my chest at her confession. I pulled back and stared into her eyes only to be met with honesty and grief. I pulled her head to mine and kissed her with as much passion and emotion as I could. I could taste the tears dripping down my cheek, a reminder of the how bittersweet this moment will be when I look back at it.

But for right now, I was thrilled. So thrilled, it was dizzying. I pulled away from her lips with a small giggle, unable to help myself.

"Something funny?" She crooked a brow with a small smile on her beautiful face.

"Just happy to see you," I grinned. "Also, flowers and the place we had our first date and a rendezvous point? When did you become such a romantic?"

"Romantic? Is that what you call it?" she questioned with a playful smile. "I'm just trying to see how long it'll take to get you in bed again."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop myself from smiling at her comment. "You can lie all you want, I know you're a huge softly on the inside."

"Agree to disagree, gorgeous," she hummed.

Hearing her nickname for me made my heart swell with happiness. I leaned up and kissed her once again, not wanting this moment to ever end.

She kissed down to my jaw and eventually my neck. I let out a tiny whimper and my hands found their into her hair, tugging on it slightly.

She kissed her way back up to my lips and kissed me with so much intensity, I felt breathless.

Before long, she pulled away and rested her forehead against mine. Both of us catching our breaths back.

"As much as I would love to stay with you here, I actually have another destination in mind," Mona admitted.

"Well then, just lead the way."

We walked to her car, arms around each other. When we got there, she walked over to the passengers side and opened the door for me.

"Wow, I could really get used to this," I teased her.

"Don't get used to it, princess," she replied with a small smile but I could hear the sadness in her undertone.

My heart sunk, knowing it was true. God knows when was the next time I get to see her.

"Hey," she began. "I know what you're thinking. Please, don't. Just enjoy the night."

I nodded. She was right.

"Alright, so let's make the most out of it," I smiled at her as I sat in the passengers seat.

The journey didn't take long but the whole time, Mona held my hand in hers. Her grip firm yet comforting, letting me know she wouldn't let go if she had the choice.

"Okay, princess, we're here."

She insisted on closing my eyes until we actually reached her surprise for me. With a bit of tickling and struggling, I finally gave in. While both of giggled and laughed with Mona's hand around my eyes, we made our way into what I assumed was a small hut or a cabin. I could tell from the squeaky wooden planks as we walked up to the porch and the sound of a door unlocking.

"You can open your eyes now," Mona chided with a smile.

Mona lifted her hands and I was greeted with a pleasant surprise. I was right, we were in a cabin. But it wasn't run down and dingy like what the creaky floor suggested. It was beautiful.

Fairy lights hung from the ceiling and ran down the walls. Bouquets of flowers were in random corners and rose petals were scattered everywhere. Scented candles lit up the room in a soft glow and fragranced the place with a faint smell of lavender. The same scent that was present the first night we spent together. I blushed at the memory.

On one wall of the room, I spotted a table with snacks on it. Above it, a banner with colourful balloons at its side.

PROM, the banner read.

Oh, wow!

"Mona," I said breathlessly.

"Is this... too much?" she questioned, unsure. "I understand if it is, but I thought it'd be nice since your prom was ruined by the Brotherhood and I wanted to make it up to you and-"

I cut her off with a passionate kiss, pouring all me feelings into it.

"Well," she said with a smirk, gaining her confidence back. "You're welcome."

I grinned, shaking me head. "You're too much."

"But you love me anyway."

I do.

She walked over to a radio that was sitting a stool. She played some music and made her way back to me.

"Care for a dance, gorgeous?" She stretched out her hand, offering it to me. I placed my hand in her palm and she brought it up to kiss my knuckles.

"You're such a dork, you big softie," I giggled at her gesture, my cheeks turning red.

"Am not!" She scoffed.

She brought my arms over her shoulder as she held my waist. A familiar song began to play as we swayed to the rhythm.

I am the only traveler, Who has not repaid his debt.

Not long after, my head was on her shoulder while her cheek was resting against my hair, breathing in the scent of my shampoo.

I've been searching for a trail to follow again, Take me back to the night we met.

"Do you remember when we first met?" I asked her.

"How could I not?"

I had all and then most of you, Some and now none of you.

"I always thought you were cute. But I never knew you'd mean so much more."

Take me back to the night we met.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

I don't know what I'm suppose to do, Haunted by the ghost of you.

"How am I suppose to bear all of this when the night is over?" I whispered into her neck, tears forming in my eyes.

"I don't know." She said truthfully. "But we'll figure that out in the morning. Let's enjoy each other now."

Oh, take me back to the night we met.

We held on tighter to each other, our hearts beating against each other. With each other.

When the night was full of terrors, And your eyes were filled with tears.

"I was so scared I was gonna lose you that night," Mona said. "I hope you know I'm sorry for going against you and the crew. But I want you to know I'd do it all again if it meant keeping you safe."

I smiled sadly at her statement.

"I was scared I was gonna lose you too." I placed my hand over her midriff. The exact place where the bullet pierced through her skin.

When you had not touch me yet, Oh, take me back to the night we met.

I pulled back a little and looked into her eyes. Her dark eyes bore right back into mine.

"I love you. So, so much."

Her eyes glistened in the candle light. "I love you too. Don't you dare forget it."

We kissed. That kiss was nothing like I've ever experienced before. Giving her my all, and she giving me hers. It was fireworks and roller coaster but longing and regret. It was butterflies and melancholy. It was everything. It was a mess.

I had all and then most of you, Some and now none of you.

Our kiss became more heated as we slowly stumbled our way to the bed which was also covered in rose petals.

She gently pushed me into the bed and fell on top of me. Lips, hands and body, all clashing in a frenzy. Fingertips caressing one another.

Mona's fingers found their way under my shirt. She looked up at me, asking me if this was okay.

"Take me," I spoke breathlessly. "I'm all yours. Always. Especially tonight."

Take me back to the night we met.

She nodded and proceeded to remove every article of fabric from my body. I returned the favour and she took me to heaven and back.

"I love you," was the last thing I mumbled before falling asleep in her arms.

I don't know what I'm suppose to do, Haunted by the ghost of you.

I woke up to an empty bed and a note in Mona's place.

Morning gorgeous,

I'm sorry for leaving you so soon. I'll be back to you before you know it. I promise. Also, I love you too.

Yours, Mona.

Unable to help myself, I felt tears in my eyes and I lost it. I sobbed as I clutched the note to my chest.

Take me back to the night we met...

(More fics!)

[ridiculousravenclaw]

The Life of Elara Ware

This is a Harry Potter fanfic. Main character Elara is an original character by moi and is George Weasleys gf they started dating in 5th year. she's half blood hens the mention of muggle technology before anyone asks. And it's set during the GOF. I've never written anything like this before either so be nice.

Chapter 1

Elara couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She read the note again, unable to hide her relief at the sight of the familiar untidy scrawl. 'Elara its okay we're good. please dont worry. oh and Mom says you can still come. You'll have to share with Ginny and Hermione though. sorry we're a busy house at the moment. but seriously don't worry. None of us got hurt. A bit shaken up but we're fine. Dads been thrown into it at work though sorting it all. I've never seen him look so tired. and mums been really nice to us since we got back. Gotta say I dont know what's more annoying. The way she keeps fussing like we're about to drop dead any minute. I think I preferred her nagging. it wont last long. All it'd take is one glimpse of a joke wand or ton tongue toffee and she'll be back to her normal screaming self. Speaking of which, you wait till I show you what we've done. Think instant. projectile. vomit! genius huh? Anyway I'll see you really soon. Love your favourite red headed knight in shining armour.'

She rolled her eyes. George was many things but a knight in shining armour was pushing it.

Collapsing back onto her bed Elara felt the tension seeping off her shoulders. Ever since the news had broken the previous day about the attack at the quidditch world cup she'd been going out of her mind with worry. No matter how many times she tried she hadn't heard a thing let alone any news on the Weasleys. Until now. She closed her eyes and pushed away the dreadful images that'd been swirling in her mind. Each scenario more terrible than the last. Its okay. They're okay. You'll see them really soon. With that final reassuring thought she sat up and made her way downstairs.

The house was silent, which was to be expected. Her parents were working so she was home alone again. She didn't mind. After all these years she was used to it. Used to the last minute I've got to gos and sorry I'm going to be home lates. They weren't to blame, such was the nature of their jobs. Elara looked around the spacious hallway. The mid afternoon sun shone through the glass door at the end of the hall and lit up the stairwell. Its beams reflecting off the crystals of the chandelier. Her parents had worked hard to pay for all this and they did it all for her. She knew better than to be ungrateful for a few lonely evenings here and there. She glanced across at the clock. 4:30. She was unsure when to expect her mother but Elara knew her dad wouldn't be home anytime soon. She looked at the letter again still clutched tightly in her hands. It was no surprise Mr Weasley had been called in. From what her father had told her the ministry was trying to get every available person in to figure out who was responsible for the disaster at the world cup. As an experienced member of the department of international magical cooperation; Hamlin Ware had been one of the first called on the scene and he hadn't been home since. This told Elara one thing. The ministry of magic didn't have a clue who was behind it or why they attacked.

4:40. It hadn't occurred to her that she'd been stood on the second to last step for 10 whole minutes lost in thought. "get a grip" she muttered to herself under her breathe as she walked towards the kitchen. She was staring at the cupboards trying to decide if she was hungry enough to start cooking dinner when the phone rang.

"Hey honey. how are you doing?" Her mother sounded exhausted on the end of the line.

"yeah I'm good. I've finally heard from George. He's okay. they're all okay."

"well thank heavens for that!" she said. Elara heard her mothers exhale of relief. "yeah I know. He said I'm still okay to stay there for the last few days of the holidays"

"see? we said he'd be alright didn't we? oh and I really don't want to impose on their family, especially after this, but... oh thank the lord for Molly Weasley. Yes. If shes truly okay with that then great. It'd be a massive help. Look I'm sorry my lovely but Adrian's sons not well again. poor lad. hes had to take extended leave to look after him. I mean, why the mother can't look after her own boy now and again is beyond me but, hey, that's none of my business i suppose. And Veronica's being her usual, I'm too important to do any work, self. Oh you should have seen her earlier. 'oh look at me in my brand new Porsche'. its orange! and not a nice orange like a sunset or something. no, like fake tan gone wrong, that's what it looks like. Uh. Anyway. Breathe Mary-Anne. The point is I'm the only other translator in the office that speaks fluent enough Polish for the conference next week. I'm sorry darling that's 2 weeks in London"

Elara could feel her mothers guilt almost radiating through the speaker.

"it's okay mum. really I understand. i dont mind. I'll go to the Weasleys and they can take me to kings cross itll be fine."

"oh my girl what did I do to deserve you?"

"hmm, not sure. but it must've been good. maybe you saved a village from plague in a past life"

Her mother chuckled. Then she grew silent. After a moment she said

"I'm probably going to be late tonight too"

there was no hiding the hint of sadness in her voice.

"I know" Elara said "it's okay. theres some leftovers hiding in this kitchen somewhere and they've got my name on them."

"Larie"

"Mum. stop. it's fine. look I'm going to have some food. have a shower. then have an early night. honestly you're not missing out on much. I'll see you tomorrow. okay?"

"okay. oh Larie I love you. more than anything in this world.

"love you too mum"

"oh and remember to check the doors locked properly and..."

"and check the security systems running. I know mum I've got it"

"you checked your trunk? you're starting your newts this year. Can't be leaving anything important behind."

"yes I've checked it. I've got everything packed dont worry."

Her mother sighed. "okay. see you later."

"bye"

Elara couldn't help but roll her eyes everytime. but still she compulsively checked the front and back door locks and the flashing screen of the home security system. Online. She knew it would be. But from a young age her mum instilled this pattern. "you must be safe Elara." she'd said. "always be safe" The overprotective persistence of her mother used to annoy her as a child. But now Elara found comfort in the metaphorical safety net her mother cast for her. It let her know that she was loved.

Making her way back to the kitchen she pushed the days worries from her mind. It looked like another evening of peaceful me time she thought. and she was going to see George soon. She smiled to herself. She had missed that cheeky grin.

[iffyswriting]

ICE: Chapter 1, prt. 2

Note: I had to split the first chapter up into parts since Tumblr got a lil word limit 🙄. Enjoy tho!

Looking from side to side I made my way towards my car and turned my music up louder, hoping it could drown out the thoughts beginning to cloud my mind. It didn't work, my brain always winning out when I started to think.

People say it's hard to be a good person and much easier to be a bad one. I'm inclined to find it true. 

Trying to do something better with yourself and putting effort into turning a new leaf is like a double-sided coin, you don't get the perks or the praise you want right off the bat. Especially for just attempting. 

When you've got no moral compass it's easier to be selfish and easy to deal out your own version of justice. Growing up I found that admirable and I modeled myself after that mindset. It's affected my mental health worse than expected and as I get older I realize I need to change.

If I want any chance at some peace of mind, I need as many changes I can get and do.

Every day I'm trying to do better and even then it doesn't seem like enough. I don't want to give up because you've got to take slow steps in any journey.

The cleansing of a conscious is a process and this new process is going to be long-winded.

I parked my car by the railroad tracks, looking over at the house my presence would disappear from. Many called it the trap but I'm calling it the past I rounded up a bag from the back and checked it's contents, sighing at all I was leaving behind me.

"Miro!" Quint called out to me, bringing attention to himself. I could see from the porch, his arms were outstretched a goofy-ass smile on his face.

"Are you fucking high?"

"Nah, but I plan too. Stick around long enough, I'll let you get a hit."

"Man getcha ass back in the house."

Walking through each room that looked just as unassuming on the inside as it did on the out. Careful planning and rearranging kept everything lowkey and mundane. If you're gonna deal drugs, don't have your product or evidence spread out everywhere.

People talk too much.

Walking into the back office, I stared at my life-long friend knowing that after this our friendship wouldn't be the same. It was something I was coming to accept.

"Kirk."

"Mir." He looked up from his numbers, his facial expression stoic."I expected a warmer welcome with you walking into my house and shit."

"This isn't a friendly visit. You know that."

"I feel like you been avoiding me- so I at least expect you to fake a cordial attitude." Kirk was always about how he felt and even if it wasn't true if he felt that way, then it was good enough truth for him.

"If I wanted to speak, we'd been have had a conversation." Placing the bag onto his desk, I stood back a bit watching as he opened it, gazing at its inside."I'm just tryna wrap up any more loose ends."

"Yeah, yeah whatever nigga."

"You always hostile anyway, Kirk." I joked, letting my guard down finally.

"Nah, I get mistaken for that because of the voice. I'm as peaceful as they come-" He joked back with a smirk, stacking his money together. He placed a band over it and threw it into a ziplock bag, to freeze later.

"Walk with me while we talk."  We went to a further backroom, and I looked at the boys he had under his belt working and getting his money together. He claimed it to be giving out opportunities but I saw it as sending out more toxicity.

Kirkland swiped at his nose, browsing over his workers."You got a plan after this?

"Always do."

"Didn't expect nothing less." Two were snickering about something, and I twitched at wanting to reprimand them. Wasn't my place anymore.

"I thought I fucking told yo ass to keep your eyes on those fucking numbers! You got ADD or something?! Can't focus on one thing!?"  He snapped at one of them, fear jutting out of them as they moved fast back to their original task.

"And you say you're peaceful." Kirk shook his head, rubbing the space between his eyes- stress underlying them. 

"And then I said as they come." He took a brush out of his pocket and began to brush his hair distracting his brain.  "I'ma honestly miss your presence Mir."

"You keep shit in line- that's why I made you my right hand."

"I'm just organized. You can find another nigga just as good as me." I wove off, my decision was unmoveable.

"We both know that's not true but that's okay because figuring shit out on my own is my specialty." 

"If you'd listen you wouldn't have to figure out anything."

"Now, that's a lie." He said a ghost of a laugh coming out.

"At least won't have to figure out shit detrimental to your life."

"You know as much as I do this life only leads to two outcomes, Death or Jail." I started to rant, my blood pumping in my veins. "If we've got fucking brains then there is no reason for us to continue to do this stupid shit when we could be trying to make something of ourselves!"

"Don't come in here acting all high and mighty, when just a couple of months ago you were doing this same shit! You've never been a hypocrite don't start now."

"I ain't being a hypocrite-"

"Easy money is easy money." He spoke cutting me off. "And with the dirt you've got piled up around here, I ain't expect you to leave so early.  All the shit we had planned, mean nothing to you?"

"It means nothing to me now because it isn't the direction I want anymore." I pointed at him than myself. "I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"We aren't even business associates anymore, so this conversation is useless." 

"Kirk."

"What the fuck, I just say!?" He responded his chest puffing up. I clenched my jaw and my fists, counting in my head to control my anger, I didn't come here to fight with him I came to finish everything.

"Fine."

"When shit gets tough, don't forget you always got a place back here."  He said ultimately, that look in his eyes all too familiar. He was persuasive and good with his words, but his charisma wouldn't keep me stuck in the quicksand. I refused to be pulled back in, no matter how bad shit gets.

"I won't be back. " I said sternly, looking him in his eye as he continued to smirk unfazed by my words.

"Sure." He became genuine holding out his hand for a dap. " Make sure you speak when you see me."

"I will ." Kirk was like a brother to me, the same way I view Quintin but if I have to choose between my soul and their brotherhood, my soul is sliding across the finish line easily. If I don't have my heart, then how am I gonna help them eventually?

"Gone so soon?" Quintin asked, sparking his lighter as he lit a blunt. His eyes were empty as he scanned his surroundings, searching for something I didn't see was there.

"Yeah, there's no more ties between us."

"That easy?"

"It never is but it's good enough for now."

"Tell Tilo, I said wassup."

"You can tell him yourself when you come by the house."

"Nah, gon' be too busy."  His eyes were hazed over now but still empty as he gave me a slick smile, his head falling back.

"You want  a hit?" I felt tempted but I still had more things to do.

"Next time I see you, remember this turn."

"I will." I dapped him up and walked towards my car. I placed a hand on my door, standing still in place. I can't turn back because it'd be like turning back on my mother. On all her dreams and wishes for me,  I can't keep living with myself if I do that.

I have to move forward and I have to do better. I gotta trust in my process because it's all I got to believe in.

@chaneajoyyy @bakarilennox @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression

[fuckyeahhiccuphaddock]

My Boy (Don't Love Me Like He Promised) - HTTYD - DagCup - Chapter One

TITLE: My Boy (Don't Love Me Like He Promised)

CHAPTER #: one.

MODERN AU: ON ✔

DESCRIPTION: years after being rejected by Hiccup Haddock in highschool, Dagur finds himself late at night at the now twenty year old's house, roughened up after an alleyway beating.

TAGS: some mild angst, longfic, not a oneshot, dagcup (hiccupxdagur), httyd, how to train your dragon.

GENRE: fanfiction

LANGUAGE: English

COPYRIGHT: characters do not belong to me. all rights reserved © to dreamworks and cressida cowell. plot is all rights reserved © "fuckyeahhiccuphaddock" 2019.

MATURE RATING: ON ✔ contains mature themes, such as strong language, sexuality, mild descriptions of violence, and other themes.

NOTE: this fanfiction will also be availiable on the Wattpad platform! the version on Wattpad has many more visuals and has a more aesthetically pleasing visual, so if you want to check that out here is the link, along with the link to my accounts which also have HTTYD content for you to read:

FIND THIS FANFIC:

FIND MY MAIN HTTYD ACCOUNT:

FIND MY SECOND HTTYD ACCOUNT:

2ND NOTE: this story is not beta read.

████████████

his breaths were ragged, and his chest moved with each one he took. puffs of white circled the air, disappearing in seconds. his foot nudged something heavy, one of the bodies that laid by his feet. not bodies, per say, considering these people weren't dead, but merely unconscious. he would have found the sight endearing and sadistically satisfying if it weren't for the fact he was practically a wet dog and the blood of his wounds was seeping through his clothes.

with an irritated grunt, he pulled his jacket off himself, holding it above his head. it made him even colder, but he wouldn't be able to focus on where to go if the rain kept beating down on him. the streets were beginning to flood. now was not a good time to be out. there was a gash on his right eyebrow, he knew that for sure. and a cut on his left thigh, left there perfunctorily by one of the men who decided to jump him. he was sure he had a couple of bruises on his torso as well.

now, it wasn't that dagur was weak -- because he sure as hell wasn't, but there had been a lot of people who decided to catch him by surprise. he fought them off, of course, but not without a couple of marks himself. he began walking, footsteps making the water splash below, and his eyes landed on the sight of a bus stop. there were two benches, accompanied by a roof and thin, hole poked walls on each side, but it'd have to do for now, at least until he found out where the hell he was.

he clawed for his phone that was deep in his pocket, tried turning it on, hoping miraculously, it would work despite it being completely drenched. the screen only remained black, and dagur couldn't help but growl -- stupid fucking 20$ phones. he shoved it back into his pocket.

he stood back up again, running a hand through his untamed hair. a kid had once ran up to him and told him he resembled hercules, from the disney movie. dagur himself didn't really see the similarity, but hey, kids had wild imaginations, and he didn't really want to put that to a halt. he started walking again, hands holding up his jacket.

it seemed like he'd walked for miles before he found a street sign. he had to squint through the rain to see it before reading it -- Escobar, is what it said. why had that sounded familiar?

despite not knowing why it held such an influence on him, he took the turn and went down the street. by the look of these houses, he was in the suburbs, with nicely trimmed grass and cleared sidewalks. he was sure it'd look a lot better one the sky cleared up, and it wasn't raining.

he was beginning to know where he was. yeah, he knew what this place was. wasn't associated personally, but hell if he didn't know it. he'd visited a few times, and at this point he knew the way back to his shitty, run-down apartment, but he hadn't seen hiccup haddock in what had been literal years. he didn't know what time it was, knew it was late and likely that hiccup wasn't going to answer the door, but at this point dagur didn't think there was much that mattered in his life, other than gambling, the occasional drink and the brooding in late night hours.

he let out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, and it made a white puff of air. he dragged his feet towards the light grey, almost bluish porch. he took a step up one of the stairs and knew he'd leave a muddy footprint, but it wasn't anything he couldn't clean after. really, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for hiccup haddock; even though the guy had broken his heart without knowing how much it hurt. it was in the past, but the memory was still so fresh in his mind; like popping a mint into your mouth. overpowering and sensual.

before he knew it he was at the door. it was a pale white, and he distantly heard the sound of a windchime. dagur lifted a calloused hand, curled it into a fist and had about to knock. there was something stopping him but he couldn't place what.

he'd knocked anyways, and standing there left him feeling both exhausted and anxious. weariness was started to settle on him, and his wounds were beginning to hurt now that his adrenaline had died down completely. upon his first knock there was no sound; no shuffling footprints, just silence.

"come on, hiccup," he whispered, giving another, stronger knock. "open up. please."

minutes passed and he had been about to leave; but the there was a thud from inside the house. dagur froze in his tracks, and he swore he saw the blinds of the windows twitched. after that, there was another, long pause of silence.

there was the sound of a lock, and dagur almost let go a sigh of relief. he hoped hiccup still lived here, and that he wasn't knocking on a stranger's house -- but then he decided that idea was a stupid one. if it was a stranger, the door wouldn't have opened at all.

hiccup looked different from highschool, dagur realized instantly. the scrawny, curled in on himself kid didn't look like that at all. hiccup's posture was open; confident than it had been before. he was slouching slightly, but dagur simply guessed it was because he was drowsy with sleep; and he was correct. hiccup's head was messy, tiny hairs sticking in every direction, and bags under his eyes that wouldn't be noticeable if you really looked. although he had just woken from sleeping, he still had his day clothes on; a black long sleeve and rumpled jeans adorning his body. a digital watch accompanied his left wrist; it was a sight to behold after years of not seeing him.

"dagur?" hiccup questioned, and god, it was so good to hear his voice after so long, so good to see him after such a long period of time. hiccup may have rejected him back in highschool, but dagur would be lying if he said hiccup haddock didn't have a specific, (albeit cliché) place in his heart. he couldn't help but stare. "what are you doing here? actually, what happened to your head?"

and too soon for his taste, dagur was snapping out of his thoughts. he gave a low chuckle from within his chest, rubbing the back of his neck. "it's a long story," he admitted quietly, glancing into emerald eyes. "could i come inside, please?"

hiccup shifted, giving a sigh and stuffing the hand that wasn't holding the door into his pocket. "dagur, i don't really think that's a good idea-"

"please," he responded, cutting hiccup off. "i'll be out of your hair by morning, hiccup... i'm freezing and my head hurts." saying that he would be gone so soon made his chest ache in protest.

hiccup squinted at him, silent for a good long moment before nodding slowly. "alright, dagur. just put your shoes there on the porch. don't want my floor covered with mud," he said, leaving the door open and retreating within the depth of his home.

without hesitation, dagur did as the other said. he toed his shoes off, and his socks, considering everything below his ankles was drenched. he left his jacket outside, too, letting it hang over the light besides the door before following hiccup inside, letting the door shut behind himself with a quiet thud.

he wasn't given any time to really look around the room before there was something soft being pressed into his hands. his green eyes flickered downwards, and in his palms was a soft, grey blanket.

"I'll get you some clothes," hiccup said. he'd been about to turn away before dagur spoke again.

"your clothes aren't going to fit me, hiccup."

"I wouldn't have guessed," the other said sarcastically, and dagur had been slightly relieved that his humour hadn't gone anywhere. he almost cracked a smile. "but you're cold. I'll get them for you anyways."

and like that, hiccup was gone. dagur didn't realize how tightly his fist had curled around the blanket, not until he found his hand loosening and a soreness in his knuckles. with a quiet sigh, he turned away as well and let his eyes scan the rest of the room.

the walls were a light grey, and it would have looked depressing if there weren't any sort of pictures hung up on them. upon entering the house, dagur's feet were met with warm, cream coloured carpet. to his left was a dark grey couch, and a transparent, glass coffee table in the middle. right across from it was a flatscreen TV; and dagur was just realizing how luxurious the house really was.

there was a fireplace, too. it wasn't lit, but it was there. on top of the fireplace was a brown shelf, holding two pictures on either side and in the center a little bowl filled with fake leaves, likely just for decor. dagur let himself draw closer to the pictures, and picked up the nearest one.

it was hiccup, but younger. hiccup in high school, he realized. but it wasn't just him, no, there was someone else in the picture. a blonde girl, and she looked all too familiar, and dagur knew who she was instantly. how could he not? this was the same girl who stole hiccup's heart as his own was shattered.

Astrid Hofferson. she looked the same as he remembered. both her arms were wrapped around his neck, eyes fluttered closed and a happy smile on her face as she was kissing hiccup's cheek. his heart sank into his own chest, and dagur hated the feeling.

hiccup was there, smiling with joy. he looked like he was laughing, if anything. behind them was what seemed to be a Ferris wheel, and dagur guessed that they were on a date at the carnival. his grip tightened on the frame of the picture, and he set it back into its original place before he broke it out of anger.

it should've been him in that photo. not Astrid.

slight guilt overcame him with that thought. it shouldn't have mattered who hiccup was with; as long as he was happy. and dagur told himself that too many times to count, yet he couldn't help the raw, sheer rage that came along with the thought of hiccup being with anyone other than him. it made him angry, and ridiculously so. he'd watched them too many times have fun together, while he was stuck on the sidelines, wondering why the hell hiccup had chosen her instead of him.

although, the picture made him distantly wonder where she was now. had they stayed together after highschool? was she just merely upstairs, asleep in hiccup's bed?

with a shaky exhale through his nose, dagur took a step back before he really grew unstable. he looked at another photo, and this time it was of hiccup and his father at graduation. stoick wore a fond smile, and he radiated how proud he was, even though it was just a photo. hiccup wore a black cap and gown, holding his certificates. the sight made dagur crack a tiny smile. he hadn't been there for the ceremony, but surprisingly, he had graudated.

"those are old memories," hiccup said from behind. dagur turned, still holding onto the blanket he was given. "here." he stuck out a fresh pair of clean clothes and dagur took them gratefully.

"thanks," dagur muttered in return, tossing the blanket over his shoulder, biting back his tongue so he wouldn't ask what had happened to astrid. "where's your restroom?"

hiccup gestured upstairs, rubbing one of his eyes. "first door to your right. when you're done, come back down here and i'll uh. tend your injuries."

"sure," dagur responded, despite his need to ask questions, but he could ask those once he wasn't a wet dog anymore. there was an awkward pause of silence before dagur turned and headed upstairs.

the carpet became wood once he was up. dagur had found the restroom wth ease, but there was just something naghing at him -- he wanted desperately to check.

he let the clothes and the blanket rest on the counter of the restroom, and he took a step to the door at the end of the hall, which was creaked open just slightly.

dagur peaked through the crack, opening the door just slightly more, giving himself a better view. it was hiccup's room, for sure -- and he glanced towards the bed, nearly shouting in relief when there was no other body in it.

there was a movement from the corner of his eye, but before he'd been given the chance to move, there was a large, black blob that was heading straight for him, all speed and power.

dagur shouted once the thing hit his face, his hands reaching up to grab at it. the thing let out a loud, screeching "yowl!", and there was a sudden, sharp pain at his eye.

he heard footsteps racing up the stairs, and at this point he had ran into something -- probably a desk, he couldn't see a damn thing -- and then there was hiccup's voice coming from into the room, "toothless!" hands were on top of dagur's own, and the black mass was wrenched away from his face, followed by a hiss sound.

dagur was too preocupied with the pain on his face to really pay attention. he raced out the room and back towards the restroom, fastily turning the light on, muttering strings of curses before he finally looked up at the mirror, letting his hand fall from his face.

his expression dropped at the sight. three claw marks were at his eye, diagnol and bleeding red. his jaw clenched at the pain, bringing his hand up and giving it a gentle touch before letting out a low growl. fuck, it stung, and he wanted to know what in the hell had done it. his face was fucked for life -- that much he was certain of.

"dagur? dagur, are you okay?" hiccup's voice drew near, and his teeth began to ache from how hard he set his jaw. he noticed hiccup standing at the doorway thanks to the mirror, and he turned abruptly to face the other, almost as if saying, ' do i LOOK okay? '

"o-oh gods. your eye!" hiccup shouted, and dagur couldn't help the snarl leave from his throat. his gaze drifted down and his (good) eye narrowed, pointing at the black mass hiccup currently held in his hands.

"what. the hell," dagur started, "is that?" he said, voice dripping of venom. suddenly the mass shifted and there were green eyes and dialated black pupils staring ferociously straight at him, and then he knew what it was -- a cat. a damn cat. hiccup had a fucking guard cat in his room!

"first of all, it is a he," hiccup said return, and dagur's (good) eye twitched irkingly. "and his name's toothless."

"well, excuse me," dagur said, glaring at the animal hiccup craddled as it if were a stuffed animal, "that i am so rude, even though he scratched my face!"

"you were tresspasing," hiccup said, like it provided any justification. "you were in my room, weren't you? or trying to peak inside, at least?"

"you're saying i deserve this?!"

"i wouldn't go that far."

at those words, dagur made a highly frustrated noise. "okay, you know what? fine! i'm going to change, and then you are going to tend to this," dagur gestured to his face, and to the rest of his wounds. after that, he didn't give hiccup a time to respond, shutting the door promptly in the cat's face.

it was going to be a hell of a night.

[sinsofafangirl]

Chapter Three.

"You're just a stupid little girl who has done nothing but ruin everything I've ever worked for - your father would be ashamed"

"I'm glad your father's dead, he doesn't have to see what a wretch and a cancer you've become"

"Police Academy?! Ha! Maybe I'll get lucky and someone sensible with half a brain will shoot you like your failure of a father"

Ava woke with a start, her body jolting upright, her eyes still heavy with sleep unable to focus on her unfamiliar surroundings as her heart pounded erratically and her chest heaved as she struggled to shake off the remnants of the all too familiar dream. Too caught up in regaining her composure she never noticed the bucket of water or the person throwing it until she was drenched and spluttering. Her hands came up to rub her eyes in an attempt to once again clear her vision before throwing a glare at the offending person "'bout time you woke up, almost thought you'd died and saved me a whole lotta trouble" a roll of her eyes indicated she'd heard him, she just refused to give him a reaction. Of fucking course it'd be Jacob Seed to get her wet in the frosty early morning air and not in the good way. "Fuck off, Seed" came her irked reply mentally slapping herself for actually responding to him "someone wake up on the wrong side of the cage this morning?" a question asked without an ounce of genuine care and a smirk so fraudulent it made her old Barbie dolls seem a hundred per cent real in comparison. Ava didn't reply and instead huffed in annoyance; she was exhausted and her entire body ached from having to sleep on the dirty floor all night so she was in no mood for being patronised by an asshole choosing to focus on trying to untangle the mess of brunette hair with nothing but her fingers - unsuccessfully I might add which only worsened her already sour mood. Refusing to give up her hands continued as best they could to untangle some of the easier knots and avoiding the still tender area of where she'd been struck a few hours earlier.

Cerulean blue eyes watched as she stubbornly refused to give up enjoying the small huffs of frustration he'd hear occasionally. If he was any sort of gentleman he'd offer her an extra set of hands but he found watching her struggle much more entertaining. Instead the former army marksman took the opportunity to study the young woman sitting awkwardly in his cage; always know your enemy he thought as his gaze wandered over her. Now that it was daytime he could get a good look at her; hair a chocolaty brown and even though it was currently a mess you could see she took care of it, she must have been about 5"2 and a hundred and five pounds if that which surprised him considering she put quite a bit of force into the kick to his face last night - not enough to hurt him too much but she still managed to draw blood. That didn't mean anything to him though, she was still weak and he looked forward to putting her through her paces and beyond but for now his studying continued now noting her eyes that were a sea green "you getting off on this, Seed?" then there was that mouth of hers always too quick with a smart remark and a sarcastic comment - that would soon change, he'd break that bad habit first. "You could have avoided all of this if you and your friends had just walked away" which was true but Ava wasn't about to admit that especially not to Jacob who currently sat upon a metal chair, his large arms folded across his chest whilst his legs stretched out before him crossing at his feet; dickhead came to mind as she finally gave up on trying to tame her unruly hair and turned her attention to the eldest of the three siblings. Easier to see him properly within the early morning rays of sunshine peeking through. The photos provided within the manila folder didn't give much detail; too grainy to actually make anything out but now in the morning light she noticed just how beautiful his eyes were and yes, she hated herself for admitting it and yes, she almost threw up in her mouth but she couldn't deny that they were strikingly beautiful and one of the first things she'd noticed. His scars and his burns weren't even on her radar as she casually studied him whilst his attention was momentarily elsewhere, of course they were noticeable and of course she was curious about them; how had he gotten such severe scarring? Did they bother him? Then she snorted realising what a stupid thought that was - it was Jacob Seed as if anything bothered him.

Her snort caught his attention and his eyes snapped back to her making her look away "somethin' funny?" completely ignoring his question Ava rose to her knees and shuffled until she was at the front of the cage "to answer your previous statement. If you and your freakshow of a family acted like decent human beings none of this would have happened" she spat venomously, her facial expression twisting into something that conveyed hatred. Within an instant Jacob's demeanor changed from one of mild amusement and boredom to that of white hot rage, his hands came up to slam on the bars of the cage as he shot forward making the young woman fall back in fear and shuffle as far back as possible - everyone knew not to slander his family in anyway but apparently Ava didn't get that memo and instantly regretted running her mouth as she saw the sheer anger in his glare and the way his hands gripped the bars hard enough to turn his knuckles white. She wasn't afraid to admit that she was terrified right now but her wide green eyes couldn't look away "don't ever talk ill of my family" his voice despite being low was filled with rage and a fierce protectiveness that almost sounded like a growl, it made a chill run down her spine. If making situations worse by running your mouth was an Olympic event Ava would get gold everytime, it was a talent and right now it was one she wished she never had.

His gaze lingered on her for a few more moments as if contemplating his next move and Ava just prayed to whatever higher power that existed that it didn't involve him opening the cage. Instead Jacob released his grip, stood swiftly from the chair and moved towards two of his Chosen; unable to hear what he was saying Ava closed her eyes and made a mental note not to mention his family again. When she reopened them she noticed Jacob had headed inside the Veterans Centre and the men he'd been talking to heading her way "time to get cleaned up little lady, brother Jacob's orders" cleaned up? Wonderful she thought knowing it wasn't about to be a warm bubble bath waiting for her. When she hadn't moved quickly enough the cage door was wrenched open and a dirty hand grasped her hair making Ava his in pain as he dragged her kicking and screaming across the compound "quite ya flappin' girly, it ain't doin' ya no good" she didn't listen and despite her ankle throbbing she managed to get a lucky hit on the shin of the second man who cursed loudly before regaining his composure and back handing her for the trouble making her head swing back, almost seeing stars from the impact.

Ava was thrown unceremoniously onto the hard floor of a dimly lit concrete room, her hands and knees stinging from taking the brunt of the impact, this made her glance over her shoulder and glare at her two 'knights in shining armour' but they'd already left leaving her to her own devices for the time being. Her mind wondered what their version of 'getting cleaned up' was because judging from the state of them and the smell she had to endure on the way over they hadn't bathed in quite some time; hypocrites.

Ava noticed the medium sized drainage hole in the middle of the room and the large hose pipe hanging neatly on the wall near the door but her muddled mind didn't put two and two together and paid no attention to it, instead she focused on the door and wondered if they'd been stupid enough to leave it unlocked. It couldn't possibly be that easy to get off here, right? As if she'd be able to just open the door and go? Seeing as she was cold, exhausted and hungry Ava didn't think she had much of a choice and even with a bad ankle she could suffer through the pain long enough to get away from this place.

Without hesitation she slowly pushed herself up off the unforgiving floor and hobbled towards the door; her ankle protesting every step she made but she wasn't about to let that stop her when her freedom was so close that she could almost taste it.

A shaky hand reached out towards the handle, her fingers brushing it gently but to her horror it moved and the door began to open making her recoil from the fiery haired brute who had just stepped inside "goin' somewhere, pup?" he asked, his face showed no emotion and neither did his voice which didn't bode well for the brunette now sat on the floor - the momentum of trying to move away quick enough meant she fell ass backwards and her ass had no padding so no doubt that would be yet another bruise for her.

"Strip" came his clipped demand, his gaze fixed and hard on the woman in front of him. His arms were folded across his chest again and Ava wondered if that was a natural stance for him or if it was to stop him from possibly murdering her. Her brows furrowed in confusion at his demand "what?" "you heard me, I said strip" again, his tone was short and clipped but that didn't stop Ava who scoffed and point blank refused. There was no way she was going to strip for him "and if I don't?" she asked raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him which with all things considered was probably pretty stupid on her part but up until this point her life had been a series of stupid events so why not continue?

It was then she realised her mistake and her eyes widened in absolute fear as Jacob stormed across the room and it was in that moment she saw that rage within his eyes from earlier and prayed that whatever death was coming it'd be quick. All of a sudden she found herself pinned to the cold, harsh floor with one of his hands around her throat, his grip hard enough to leave bruises whilst his other hand pinned both her wrist above her - she had nowhere to go because her legs were useless at this point and even they weren't she doubted she'd have enough strength to fend him off long enough to reach the door. His face was now right above hers, his breath hot on her face as she struggled to for air "you'll learn why I'm the best at what I do and you'll either play nice and fall in line remembering that you're nothin' more than meat that's expendable" as if to emphasize his point his grip around her throat became that much tighter that she'd started to squirm beneath him, panic mode had kicked in as her vision became cloudy. She truly thought she was about to die and in the back of her mind she found she was okay with that because that would mean she would finally meet her father. In her current situation she was completely powerless to stop him from choking the life out of her and snapping her neck like a twig but apparently he wasn't feeling that murderous today and released his grip just enough for her to gasp for air " - or you'll be culled, tied up and used as live target practice for my Chosen, so what will it be, princess?"

Ava gasped and spluttered again fighting for air unable to give him a physical answer Ava weakly nodded as much as his grip allowed making a cruel smirk replace the scowl he'd been wearing previously" good girl, you know what to do" within an instant he'd relinquished his grip on both her wrists and her throat and had returned to his previous position. His gaze hardened and cold as watched her pathetically regain her composure.

With no other option but to do as she was told the young brunette cautiously and fearfully began to slip out of her deputy uniform as shaking hands fumbled with zips, buckles and buttons. His never wavering gaze didn't help her much either and not knowing if he would strangle her again also didn't help but soon enough she'd managed to discard her uniform leaving her in nothing but her bra and underwear; surely I can keep these on, right? This made Ava look over towards him and in return he merely nodded making tears spring to her eyes as she tentatively reached for the clasp of her bra at the back to unhook it before letting it drop to the floor. Ava gulped down the feeling of nausea before scrunching her face in pain as she winced - her throat would be sore for a good while and no doubt the bruises he left will last weeks before they fade.

Refusing to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her cry, Ava thumbed the elastic of her underwear before tugging them down over her hips, thighs and legs before discarding them with the rest of her clothes. Every part of her was open to him, she felt extremely vulnerable wished she was anywhere but here. Her earlier bravado had been stripped from her and now she naked and exposed in front of him. A face full of cold, harsh water soon broke her train of thought as the force of the pressure slammed her against the nearest wall making her cry out but this only resulted in more coughing and spluttering from the woman. Not that she could see but she could already tell that her skin had probably turned a nice shade of red if pain was anything to go by.

No matter how hard she tried to cover herself from the onslaught of water it just never made a difference, instead she gave up and pressed herself against the cold wall waiting for it to be over.

After what felt like an eternity the water stopped and she was left sore, drenched and very, very cold if her shivering was anything to go by. It's the type of cold that works its way into your bones and then it's icy tendrils wrap itself around your core and you genuinely wonder if you'll ever feel warmth again. "Get dressed" a flurry of definitely used clothes that consisted of ratty dark jeans and a fade flannel shirt hit her but Ava was that cold she would have worn a garbage bag to get warm at this point so she hurriedly threw them on making a note of just how big they were on her, not that she was about to complain especially if it meant being stripped again.

By now Jacob stood in front of what he could only assume was a drowned rat, her hair now forcefully untangled hung dripping onto the flannel she wore as he grasped her jaw he noticed how she flinched but said nothing, his grip just hard enough to have her attention and possibly leave bruises "when you behave yourself you get privileges like clothes but if you keep running that mouth of yours and misbehaving those privileges get taken away and you'll get punished. I'm sure my men out there would love to see the sight that I just saw and I mean, who knows what would happen if I'm not around" his not so subtle threat was quickly understood; the possibility of getting raped wasn't something she wanted "have I made myself clear?" "y - yes" Jacob quirked an eyebrow and gripped her jaw that little bit harder; more bruises to add to the collection she thought as she painfully cleared her throat "y - yes, sir" her voice was hoarse and it hurt to talk but her answer seemed to satisfy him because relinquished his grip and strode to the door, an arm keeping it open as he glanced at the sorry state of a deputy.

"Time for your trainin', let's go, pup" Ava meekly nodded; too tired and too fearful at this point to put up a fight. Her stomach filled with dread as she made her way towards the door.

It couldn't get any worse, right?

[kimnamjooonz]

Blank Space - Chapter 15

New Romantics

Songs Used In This Chapter:

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

I Want To Break Free - Queen

Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

Fat Bottomed Girls - Queen

'We are bored, we are so tired of everything, we wait for trains that just aren't coming. We show off or different scarlet letters, trust me, mine is better. We are young, but we're one the way to ruin, we play dumb but we know exactly what we're doing. We cry tears of mascara in the bathroom, honey, life is just a classroom.''

Los Angeles

Morgan's time in L.A went in a completely unexpected way as what she had imagined but for the better, and she was thrilled about it.

She and Taylor were on the terrace of a trendy coffee shop informing everything that had happened to an astounded Lucas.

''There was no audition. They literally went ahead and offered me the role. One of the casting directors basically begged me to do it.''

''And did you accept it?'' Lucas asked with eyes wide open.

''Of course! This is my dream come true, Lucas!''

He looked confused for a moment as he had no idea what dream role Morgan had got. And only God knew how many dream roles Morgan had.

''And may I know that dream role of yours you just got?''

''I can’t say it out loud.''

Lucas almost laughed. He knew it was not Morgan's fault. She was probably told not to say a word to any living soul. He wondered if she was cast to Game of Thrones or Marvel. Those guys were known to be secretive as hell. Or maybe she had landed a role in Star Wars or the DCEU.

''Who are you playing? Lord Voldemort? I swear that if you have Sebastian Stan as co star again, my head is going to snap in half.''

''Ha, ha, very funny'' she said with sarcasm. ''But I admit it'd be fun to play Voldemort. Okay, I can't say it out loud but I'm going to write it down.''

She grabbed a napkin and a pen that she had in her purse and started writing something. Taylor rolled her eyes at how silly Morgan could be.

''Here it is'' she handed the napkin to Lucas who read it, his face slowly turning from sarcasm to amazement.

''Oh. My. God. No wonder they are secretive.''

''Destroy the evidence.'' Morgan insisted, making Taylor laugh at how extra she was.

Lucas tore the napkin in little pieces.

''How did you got that role without even auditioning?''

''I don't really know.'' she was genuinely honest about that. ''But I'm not complaining. Well, we have two days for us in L.A. We have to do something.''

''First of all, there's something else...'' Taylor started and Morgan's spirits fell.

Maybe Sebastian was in L.A and she had to meet him for something she didn't know, completely ruining the 'let's be apart from each other challenge' Morgan had invented without his knowledge. And make him wonder where she was and what she was doing was giving results.

''If Damien wants to send Sebastian and I to go to Disneyland to kiss with fireworks at the background, he can save it because I'm not going to do it.''

''It's not that but it's admirable how fast you thought about Sebastian Stan.'' Taylor teased and Morgan rolled her eyes.

''Very funny. I'm used to his plots to get us together so nothing surprises me anymore.''

''Whatever'' Taylor rolled her eyes this time. ''It's not that what I wanted to tell you. IMG Models called me this morning.''

Morgan's face lit up.

''Please tell me that they want me to cover British Vogue.''

''Yes, they called me while you were in Toronto. I think I forgot to call you after everything that's happened.'' Morgan's face was really ridiculous at that moment. ''They want you to cover the January 2019 edition and they want you to be an snow angel or an snow queen for the photoshoot.'' Morgan looked elated, even though that wasn't what Taylor wanted to say to her. ''But... why they called was because apparently Victoria's Secret has been hearing your fans demands and now they want you to walk in the show.''

''WHAT?'' shouted Lucas, almost chocking with his coffee.

''Are they on drugs?'' asked Morgan. ''They are really going downhill if the want to hire an actress that doesn't know anything about walking on the runway, only for views.'' Morgan rolled her eyes, not taking the Victoria's Secret proposal really seriously.

''Well, they have Kendall Jenner who has less facial expressions than a rock. Without counting that you, me and Sebastian Stan in The Winter Soldier movie have better walks than her'' said Lucas with all honesty.

''And that's correct'' said Taylor who seemed to want Morgan to walk in that show. ''You should totally do this''

But Morgan had already taken a decision.

''No.'' she simply said.

''WHAT'' Lucas shouted again.

''Morgan, please'' begged Taylor.

''No. I don't want to. I'll have to work out and go on a diet and believe me, I don't want to do that.'' she bit the croissant that she was eating that was delicious. The thought of not eating them for a while made her heart ache. ''They should hire a real model instead of me. They are hundreds of them lining up to be the next Victoria's Secret angel.''

''PLEASE, MORGAN!'' shouted Lucas and Taylor at the same time.

''You can be the next Angel. Alessandra Ambrosio retired. Adriana Lima is retiring this year. Only Candice is left from the good old days. You can be the next iconic Angel because you have charisma, elegance and fierceness.'' said Lucas.

Morgan still looked impassive, eating her croissant with all the calm in the world.

''No.'' she simply said. ''Being a Victoria's Secret Angel was never among my dreams. But... maybe I'll do it next year, if I want and if they have Taylor Swift performing at the show.''

Taylor was desperate.

''I'm sure that if you say yes they'll get you Taylor Swift, the fantasy bra, the Swarowsky outfit, a crown, you opening and closing... anything you want. Morgan, please, just imagine Sebastian's reaction''.

Morgan almost choked with the croissant.

''And now I'm even more convinced that I shouldn't do this. You're dead wrong if you think I'm doing something only to please Sebastian.''

In a very bad temper, she stood up and left.

Annoyed, she walked towards the coffee shop's bar only to find non other than Chris Evans there. It was almost funny.

''How little is the world'' he mumbled when he saw her.

''In L.A do you find random celebrities in coffee shops?'' she asked with her eyebrows raised. ''Because in New York I haven't met any in a normal environment. Well, maybe Sebastian. But... I don't really want to mention Sebastian'' she sat beside him.

''Yes. You meet random celebrities in the streets here. Once I met James Franco in the bathroom of a McDonalds. But in my case I just left Dodger for a grooming at the vet in the front.'' he pointed to a vet shop at the front of the cafe. ''I'm just waiting for him and then I found you. And how are you? What are you doing in L.A?''

''I got offered a project. I can't tell you about it if I don't want to be fired from it''

''I know all about secret projects. You're talking to Captain America.'' Chris doubted if he should ask the next question but he did it anyway. ''And... how is Sebastian?''

Morgan just shrugged her shoulders.

''It's been messy, I'm not going to lie.'' she could talk to Chris with honesty as he knew that there was funny business between she and Sebastian. ''I'm sure for him this is pretty confusing to. I think I've messed up his world.''

''You totally did. And not only his world but the whole world''

Morgan had to admit that he was right. And she actually liked that. She was only scared that the whole fame think could backfire someday.

''Victoria's Secret contacted me to walk in their show'' she suddenly said.

Chris muttered a small 'wow'.

''And... what did you say?''

''No. I don't think I'd be any good. Not this year, at least. If they ask me again next year, which I doubt, maybe I'll think about it.''

''I think you'd be good. I watched that show a couple of years ago and the models were beautiful but the lacked charisma, something that you have in great quantities. And I think you'd enjoy it.''

''Really?'' Morgan was intrigued why Chris thought that she'd liked to walk around in underwear and a pair of wings.

''Yeah. People looking at you, the camera fixed on you, the flashes, the felling like you own the world... yeah, I associate these kind of stuff with you.''

''So, you're saying that I like attention?'' she asked with raised eyebrows but not at all offended.

''Yes. But you're not desperate for it. You like getting the attention you deserve. That's why you turned Victoria's Secret down. Because you think that a real model should have been called instead of you.''

''How are you so good at reading people?'' she asked. ''Do you have a superpower? Dammit.''

Chris laughed, with his typical movement of placing his hand on his chest that she had seen so many times before, in her fangirl days.

''No, but you're easy to read. Just like Sebastian. You two are soulmates, I'm not joking.''

Morgan rolled her eyes.

''I bet you are, Evans''

Chris was about to laugh when an alarm on his phone sounded.

''Gosh, I have to pick Dodger up. Will you come with me? Then we can just walk around, have some fun. What do you say?''

Morgan liked the idea but she was totally sure that they were going to be pictured together and dating rumous would fly. And she wasn't interested in being romantically linked with Chris Evans even though she knew it was inevitable if she wanted to spend some time with the guy.

And it was all fun and games to hide from Sebastian but being romantically linked to someone else wasn't the best idea. She wasn't interested in making Sebastian jealous as she knew that it was a stupid move.

Her brain was working at full speed and she almost jumped when she got the solution. She slowly caressed the chain of the necklace Sebastian had given to her. She always wore it under her shirt but this time she took it out to make visible to everyone to see.

It was inevitable that there were going to be pictures of her with Chris but she also wanted to send a message to Sebastian. Something like 'Hey, I'm wearing your necklace in public. You're the only one that I want.' She just hoped that Sebastian got the hint. If he didn't, he was an idiot.

''Let's go. To be honest, I don't really want to spend my evening with my team trying to talk me into walking at that goddamned fashion show. And I also want to meet Dodger.''

Chris opened the door for her and together they stepped outside.

New York

Sebastian was spending his evening

 with Florence and for once, it was actually being kind of fun. It was as if the absence of Morgan from New York had lifted a weight from his shoulders.

For Florence, it was as if the sun was shining again, without the stormy presence of that woman. She was praying that somehow Morgan fell in love with Los Angeles and decided to stay there forever. However, she still had some more months in New York, at least until she finished filming with Sebastian.

''I can't cook, so we should ask for take out.'' said Sebastian, who was rumbling into the almost empty cupboards of his kitchen. He seemed to only have bread, that looked as it was there since his Gossip Girl days, and a almost empty pot of Nutella. Classy.

''Chinese?'' she proposed.

''I was thinking about Italian.''

As none of them could agree in what to eat, they ended up eating some fast food from McDonalds.

For some reason that Sebastian didn't know, Morgan was back into his head. He was wondering what was she doing in L.A and even considering calling her. That was probably useless because she was not going to answer.

They were watching some random movie and that was the only thing that was interrupting the silence. However, none of them were very into the movie.

Sebastian was thinking about Morgan and Florence was glancing around Sebastian's living room with her eyes fixed on a picture of him sandwiched between Nicole Kidman and Morgan Llewellyn in the last Toronto Film Festival.

''Do you want tea? That's something I have and I know how to prepare''

Florence appreciated the enthusiasm with he was saying those words.

''Do you have honey? Or milk?''

The smile on Sebastian's face fell.

''Well... no... but I can do a quick shopping at the shop across the road.'' he kept fumbling in the cupboards. ''Hell, I don't even have sugar...just, please give me five minutes.''' and he left the apartment running.

Once Sebastian left, Florence was free to fulfill her own curiosity. She grabbed her phone and searched for Morgan's Instagram account. It wasn't as if she cared about her life but she needed to know to what extent she publicly cared about Sebastian.

It seemed that nothing at all. She scrolled throughout her feed only to find selfies, photoshoots and pictures with her famous friends. She had even cropped out Sebastian from almost all of the pictures taken in Toronto, except the one with him and Nicole Kidman, the same one that Sebastian had hung on his wall.

She couldn't resist talking a look at her tagged pictures and she didn't know how she ended up at the Morgan Llewellyn Updates account.

The first update was about Morgan being considered for the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. What did the Victoria's Secret executives had in their minds at considering Morgan? Did they want to turn it into the Morgan Llewellyn Fashion Show? They basically wanted to sell their souls to the devil (Morgan) for views.

But Morgan had rejected the offer with the excuse of having 'scheduling conflicts'. However, she had left the door opened for next year. So, if the show's rating flopped, Morgan was still there.

Florence looked at the next update and almost dropped her phone to the floor. There she was, as beautiful as always, rocking a chill and simple outfit with high heels and walking round the streets of Los Angeles with no other than Chris Evans and his dog.

Florence wanted to sing and dance. She could swear that a victory song was playing in her head.

She was crossing fingers for Evans and Llewellyn to fall in love, get married and live happily ever after in his big Los Angeles home with her cat and his dog. They for sure made a beautiful couple.

But deep inside she knew that this was never going to happen. Morgan Llewellyn seemed to like ruining people's lives and she had many months ahead of filming with Sebastian. And the whole world was rooting for them to be together. And Morgan liked to please her people.

''Why do you look so happy?'' Sebastian asked when he got back with the groceries.

''Found some good news. You'll like them too.''

She handed Sebastian the phone with a big smile on her face.

It took Sebastian a couple of seconds to recognize the people on the picture, but when he did he felt a ugly sensation in his stomach, something that felt like a pang in his chest and for a moment he felt as if he was breathing shattered glass.

So Morgan and Chris, eh?

He just wanted to fly right then to L.A and interrupt this whole sham or at least call Chris to stop doing whatever he was doing with Morgan. But then he noted something he hadn't before. He zoomed on the picture and could clearly see the star necklace he had given to Morgan hanging from her neck.

He stated laughing, leaving Florence utterly confused. But Sebastian was just admiring Morgan and being thankful to Lucas Williams.

Morgan knew what she was doing. Yes, she was having fun with Evans but at the end of the day, she was wearing his necklace in public, and she knew perfectly well that it was going to mean a lot to Sebastian. It wasn't a coincidence. Maybe to the general public it was a little detail about Morgan Llewellyn having a necklace. For Sebastian the gesture shouted 'Hey, I'm with Evans now but, it doesn't mean anything.'' Or that was what he hoped.

''You minx'' he mumbled looking at the picture. ''I know exactly what you're doing and I love you for that''

''Excuse me?''

Sebastian had absolutely forgotten about Florence's presence.

''Ummm... this doesn't mean anything. It's just a bet between Morgan and I about who gets to sleep with Evans first''

He felt that somehow he was making things worse.

''WHAT?''

''It's just a joke'' he explained. ''We all know that Morgan is going to get it first.'' he prayed, with all his heart, to be wrong with his statement.

''So you want to sleep with Chris Evans?''

''Who doesn't...''

Sebastian was just absentmindedly answering because all his attention was on the comments of the picture.

He could read stuff like 'Chris and Morgan outsold.', 'I'm all about MorganStan but Chris and Morgan are also hot as hell', 'Chris, I love you but I need you to get away like right now', 'Chris Evans, stop making holes in my ship!', 'If Seb and Morgan become another case of Kate and Leo and they never date and she marries Evans instead I'm flying myself off a cliff' (same, girl, same, Sebastian thought), 'Why is everyone blaming Chris Evans for wanting to sink the MorganStan ship when Florence is literally right there', there was even a reply to that comment that went by the very harsh words of: 'Because Chris Evans is actually relevant.'

Those people were nuts but Sebastian found himself agreeing with many of them.

''So are you going to say something?'' Florence demanded.

''Don't worry, it's just a joke between actors, nothing serious, I was juts me... WHAT THE HELL''

''What now?''

But Sebastian wasn't listening anymore. If he though he had never worn that necklace in public... well, he was wrong. he was just finding out that he had let everyone see it at a Comic Con in Houston, not long ago. And someone else had noticed and posted his picture next to Morgan's with the caption 'If this is the same necklace I'm fainting.'

And people had got on board with it. 'Morgan and Seb wearing matching jewellery, I'm living for it.' and 'This reminds me of Taylor Swift and Harry Styles paper airplane necklace situation in 2013 and I'm having an stroke right now.'

Yeah, and he was too living for it. He sent a text to Morgan saying 'I got your message.' And for the first time in days Morgan replied with a simple winking emoji.

Los Angeles

Morgan and Chris had made it to his beautiful house without any inconvenience apart from a couple of paparazzis. She knew that the pictures were all over the Internet, thanks to Sebastian's message. She was happy that everything had worked out in the end.

''What do you want to eat?'' he asked her.

''If you're ordering food, always Italian.''

''I was planning to cook, but I guess I can make pasta.''

So he could cook too. And Chris Evans was right there demonstrating how much better than Sebastian he was. And Morgan was cursing herself because instead of choosing Chris, who was a dreamboat, she wanted Sebastian, who probably couldn't place a bowl of instant soup into the microwave.

''And I guess I'd sit there and watch because I can't cook.''

''I imagined that for some reason.'' he looked at her with a mischievous smile and she looked back at him with raised eyebrows. ''What I mean is that... I've been working with Sebastian for almost ten years and you're very similar to him. What is more, I've never meet anyone as similar to him as you are.''

''Really?'' Morgan looked at him with a confused expression.

''Yeah. I've seen that face before, believe me.''

It was not the first time that she heard that comparison. Taylor said it all the time (and she didn't see their similarities under a positive light) and even Damien Chazelle had mentioned it.

''Whatever you say'' she rolled her eyes playfully sat in the counter, facing Chris, who was taking the ingredients for the pasta from the cupboards. ''Let me put some music, please, to motivate you, so you can make a good pasta.''

''Believe me, Llewellyn. My pasta is the best.''

''We'll see.''

Queen was playing around the house and both of them were moving to the music. Chris almost burned himself for being way too into the song.

It was so incredibly domestic that Morgan was quite confused. They were dancing in the kitchen while he cooked (like in that awesome scene between Harry Osborn and Mary Jane Watson in Spiderman 3) and she could even see Dodger running in the backyard.

Morgan knew that she could have all of that if she wanted, with very little effort. But that was the thing, she didn't want to. She wanted the angry dumpster prince that couldn't cook to save his life, couldn't put his life together and had the special ability of making very dumb decisions.

Maybe it was because behind her beauty, talent and glamour, she was exactly the same. A hot mess.

Domestically numb? Check.

Didn't have a life plan apart from acting, being famous, popular and pretty? Double check.

Made stupid ass decisions that made no absolute sense? Triple check.

For a moment she was so caught in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that Chris was talking to her, thankfully about something that wasn't related to Sebastian in any way.

The day went by in a pretty easy going mood. Chris not only made really awesome pasta but he could also bake. He was a real life Prince Charming. And somehow Morgan still craved for Sebastian sassy remarks while eating pizza under a tree in a park wearing their expensive clothes. Why would she want that, it was a mystery. If Chris Evans couldn't take Sebastian out of her mind, she doubted that she could get over him someday.

They spent a very nice evening, talking about everything and everyone, eating cake and even playing with Dodger. It was perfect.

As the evening was turning into the night, they comfortably settled in Chris's comfortable sitting room, eating popcorn and watching Leonardo DiCaprio movies, with Dodger in the middle of them.

At some point while watching Titanic, that both of them had watched countless of times, they went back to the Sebastian topic. It had started with Chris commenting a funny anecdote on the set of The First Avenger.

''...I swear that he's the sweetest person on earth but that doesn't make him perfect'' said Chris. ''No one is, that's the truth. Sometimes he make that choices that leave anyone around him, speechless. Me included. Like dating that Florence girl for example... it's just... stupid. They have nothing in common. She's supposed of nice and everything but...' it seemed like Chris disagreed with Florence being nice. '...she's one of those persons that wants every person in the world to be nice to them, when we all know that life's not like that. She's the kind of person that complains to the manager when the Starbucks barista doesn't have pumpkin spice to her latte and ruining the poor kid's day''

Morgan wasn't even trying to hide her satisfaction. She had thought that Florence was a goody two shoes local like her sister in law Lila but no, she was one of those annoying persons who couldn't let other people live. No wonder Sebastian's fans disliked her, even though they didn't know what Chris had just told her. For now. She was going to find a way for them to know. Not directly, of course.

Yes, Morgan could be devious, selfish, a drama queen and even a snake, but she tried to treat people with kindness.

''That is... yikes.'' Morgan looked outraged and Chris smiled.

''Yeah. I met her twice and I didn't like her. And judging by your face, she's not your favourite person in the world and I sort of know the reason why.''

She didn't need to explain anything to Chris. She knew that he knew.

''Oh God, this is so messed up.'' he said. ''With this material I can write a romcom and you and Seb can act in it. Let's sum this up: you've loved him for five years without knowing him, then you meet him and you dislike him, then you love him again but this time you love the real person, but he has a girlfriend who you discovered just now that she's kind of asshat, and now, apparently he's in love with you too and if you two get together, the media storm may damage your careers. It's a mess.''

''When you say it like that, it sounds like chaos. Why is this happening? I don't understand.''

''Because both of you are chaotic. You are... well, you. And Sebastian relationship history is pitiful. If you two get together there will be even greater chaos or you two will finally settle down with each other. I'm quite inclined for the second option. I think you two are soulmates.''

That was the moment Dodger chose to get tired of the conversation and left the coach, leaving Chris and Morgan alone. If he could talk he would have cursed them.

''I'm going to get us more popcorn.''

While he was gone she had enough time to think about all the information Chris had given her. Her mind was already making plans. For a moment she had forgotten that she was relaxing on Chris Evans's wonderful sofa. It was like a dream.

''Earth to Morgan'' he suddenly said. ''I know you have a lot of information inside that head of yours but... calm down for a moment.'' he placed the popcorn bowl on her lap, leaving his hand resting on her arm. Morgan hadn't miss that detail, let alone when he placed his whole arm softy around her shoulders.

After an exhausting week, full of emotional turmoil and running away from the person she wanted the most to be near, she found herself craving this touch.

Yeah, it wasn't Sebastian (and to be honest, nothing compared to him) but... it was the best option after him, at least for the moment. Damn it, it was Chris Evans, prince charming in person, gorgeous and sexy as hell... but he also deserved better. He deserved someone with their head in its right place and that certainly wasn't Morgan.

''Are you up for a little distraction?'' he asked, with a cheeky smile but also blushing intensely.

Of course she was. Who wouldn't. But she needed to state the rules clearly before. Not for her sake but for his.

''I am. But only as a distraction.'' he smiled sadly at her words, perfectly understanding what she was trying to say. ''You don't deserve me, Chris. That's the sad truth. You deserve better than me. Someone who's not in love with your co-star, for example.''

With all the tenderness in the world, he traced her cheekbone with her thumb.

''You deserve the world. But... you don't want what you deserve. I don't know what will happen in the future with you and Seb, I totally understand that your heart is with him, and it will be there for a long time. I won't try to convince you otherwise. I'm just offering a distraction and some fun. Everyone needs it from time to time.''

His playful smile was really something else. And not even in her wildest dreams she had imagined that Chris Evans was, someday, going to offer himself so openly to her. She'd better take that goddamn chance.

New York

The day after the Chris Evans-Morgan storm, Sebastian was in a coffee shop, drinking a latte and reading the last number of Vogue, the one that Morgan had covered. A very old Taylor Swift song was playing in the background, back from the days when that girl sang country music. Wow, the past was weird. Back then hardly anyone knew him (people confused him with Chace all of the time), Marvel wasn't even a thing, Chris Evans was the last failed Human Torch, Morgan Llewellyn was a teenager who wanted to act, was stuck on a farm somewhere in Wales with another name and Taylor Swift sang country music.

Now the world was a crazy place. He was famous (even more than Chace), Marvel was the biggest franchise in the world, Chris Evans was Captain America and also a superstar, Morgan Llewellyn was everywhere, from covering Vogue to being the face of Chanel, and she was also getting a mysterious acting project. And she had shaken his world so hard that he doubted that he could ever be who he was before meeting her. And Taylor Swift sang pop.

He kept passing the pages of Vogue and reading some parts of Morgan's interview, the most interesting bits and the parts that he didn't know. And whoever that had shot the pictures had done a damn good job highlighting Morgan's spectacular eyes. Now every time he closed his eyes he had those purple-blue eyes engraved in his brain.

''Earth to Sebastian!'' it was his friend Charlie, the person he was waiting for and the only one of his friends who had agreed to meet him. Toby and Chace were working in some project he didn't know about, Will was tired of him after his latest Morgan related tantrum, Joe was in England having his superstar moment, Anthony was filming something somewhere and Chris was roaming the streets of L.A with Morgan Llewellyn.

''Sorry, I was... distracted.'' he didn't have enough time to push the magazine away from him.

''I can see that. She's pretty... distracting.''

''Wait, how do you know about Morgan? You've never met her.''

Charlie looked at him as if he was a five year old.

''Because, the only thing that everyone's talking about lately is her. Chace is his fan, Joe is about to tattoo her name on his forehead, Toby can't care less about you two and Will thinks that she's a life ruiner. Florence probably agrees with him.''

Sebastian knew all of that already. And, surprisingly, he didn't care about what his friends thought of Morgan.

''Who cares. She's just my co-star. Like any other co-star I had before.''

He didn't believe that himself and he knew that Charlie was not going to believe him.

''Wrong. You didn't fall in love with Margot Robbie or Nicole Kidman. Well, maybe with Chris Evans but... who wouldn't, man. That guy's a dreamboat.''

''I'm not in love with Morgan''

''And that is... wrong. Again.'' Sebastian blushed but didn't say anything. ''By the way, Toby texted me asking where we were. He says he has important news..''

''Wasn't he in Brooklyn auditioning to some mysterious project?''

''Ask him yourself...'' before he could say anything else, Toby was crossing the coffee shop, looking happy and full of life.

He was glowing for some reason Sebastian didn't know. And he was more surprised when he grabbed the Vogue magazine, that was still on the table, and kissed Morgan's picture.

''What the hell does this mean?'' Sebastian took the magazine from Toby's hands and looked at him with an angry frown.

''That your girl got me a role in a TV show''.

''What?'' Sebastian and Charlie asked at the same time.

They were both intrigued as to how Morgan had helped Toby and since when she cared about his acting career.

''Let me start... yesterday Morgan liked one of my pictures in Instagram because she follows me.'' he looked too cocky about that fact for someone that two days earlier wasn't very enthusiastic about her. ''So, today I showed up to the audition, I said my name and the Casting Director immediately asked me if I knew Morgan because she was liking my stuff on Insta. I said yes and they gave me the role, without having to do anything.''

That story didn't make any sense. The only thing Sebastian could recollect was that Toby had got the role only because she had met Morgan once.

''So you got the role only because you have met Morgan once and she follows you on Instagram?'' Sebastian questioned him and Toby just smiled, not ashamed at all. ''Nice display of your talent there. You could totally suck but they didn't care as long as you keep Morgan's follow.''

''Hey, I don't suck! And I'm also not a superstar like you are. I don't have Damien Chazelle offering me roles while I'm in the bathroom at the airport! If I can get roles thanks to Morgan, I'm going to do it.''

''Okay, that makes you a fame leech.''

Nor Charlie or Toby knew why Sebastian looked so mad.

''Stop, okay?'' Toby looked at him with a hard expression. ''No one is taking advantage of your girl. You can tell her what I did, if you want. She probably won't mind.''

''She's not my girl'' he groaned. ''And of course I'm going to tell her.''

Toby rolled her eyes and decided to change the topic.

''Have any of you heard about Joe lately?''

''Isn't he in London?'' asked Sebastian, who had been way too focused on himself and Morgan to care about his friend's whereabouts.

''Yes. Now he's hanging out with Rami Malek, who'll probably win an Oscar before you, Seb'' Charlie teased him. ''I think he changed us for Malek and some guys named Ben and Gwil or whatever is pronounced.''

''He'll be back when the buzz over his movie dies. And Malek may win an Oscar but at least I wasn't in Twilight like he was.''

''You're a pain in the ass today, Sebastian.'' Toby threw a napkin at Sebastian's face. ''I get that you're a bit cranky because your great friend Chris is probably having a very good time with Morgan right now. Or at least he had it last night, I'm sure of it.''

Charlie almost chocked with the muffin he was eating and Sebastian got so red that it looked as if he was going to catch fire at any moment.

''And I'm sure that what you just said didn't happen''.

Los Angeles.

Lucas and Morgan were eating some pizza in a simple Pizza Hut somewhere in L.A alone. This was not a conversation that they wanted to have in front of Taylor.

''Now, tell me because I swear I'm dying of the intrigue... did you slept with him or not?''

It wasn't hard to Lucas to draw that conclusion. Morgan had came back to the hotel at ten in the morning making a stupid excuse of staying at Chris's watching Titanic. Taylor believed her but Lucas didn't.

''Of course I did.'' she didn't even blush with that revelation. ''He was offering himself and I just said yes.''

''Just that? Are you two dating or something?''

''Of course not. He knows that... we're not for each other. He deserves better. At least someone who's not in love with Sebastian Stan. It was just a fun night, nothing else.''

Lucas was surprised that Morgan was speaking with such lightness. She had slept with bloody Captain America and she was acting like it was not a big deal at all.

''I'm tempted not to throw my diet coke at your face, Morgan. How can you? He's literally the perfect man, a hopeless romantic, a beauty, a generous, good man... and you're going to give him up for... what? Sebastian Stan? Who's not even single? Whose mind is literally a mess? Oh, please God, no. Tell me you're not doing this.''

''It seems like...I am.. Chris deserves better. I'm the worst thing that can happen to him at this point and he knows it. He really likes me as a friend but as a girlfriend he'd get tired of me in two months and I can't blame him. Sometimes I'm tired of myself too, believe me.''

Morgan looked sad for a couple of seconds but regained her composure.

''So, do you think that it will be different with Sebastian?''

''Who knows... but I'm beautiful trash and he's beautiful trash so... we kind of match. But now you have to help me investigate something that Chris told me about Florence.''

Lucas winced. That couldn't be good news.

''What are you planning to do now?''

''I'm going to tell the truth to the world.''

Lucas didn't know what Morgan really wanted but he was sure it was nothing good.

Graphic description of this episode:

Tag list:  @iamsebastianstab @bloodyvalentine93 @void-imaginations@dmn-dmn @euphoricbuckys @bluewavesx @lamamery @morrocanlovey @korysdiops @galaxydragonxx @ridingthedevil@exotericbarnes @heartsbeatingfortheworld @stuckinthemiddlewithyou@carmsfiorenzanoc @superheroesaremytea @torntaltos @massati@lesbiiionest @naffeesaa @ming3015 @earthtodevon@imdiegohargreeves @heidi4499 @bluediamondsevie@randomandfandoms1967 @goldvirago @paz22 @peterpxrkerlove@derekxsammy @leonardo-capulet @bellaire312006 @awinterloveuniverse @silverreading @mkirby93 @becksly9 @emilie1993 @dmn-dmn @kmaydayy 

[stroni-bomb]

Siren!Taeil: Eye of the Beholder {1}

CHAPTER ONE // NEXT 

❃ Taeil didn’t know which was worse: being a male in a family of purely female sirens or being a rare phenomenon in a group of ‘normals’. He never had it easy growing up and going against everything which makes a siren didn’t make it any easier. He would always be thankful for that fateful day when Angel!Taeyong saved him. However when a certain individual puts all of N City on their toes as they’re a risk to another citizen’s life, why can’t Taeil feel nothing except sympathy towards her instead of the hatred the other’s hold? ❃

؂۵‗✩⑈

"Taeil," Taeyong gently shook the older brother and gave him a warm smile as his tired eyelids fluttered open. "You can go to bed now. Y/N's asleep, I've got everything under control."

He quickly checked on your sleeping figure in the infirmary bed. He didn't know how long he was out but he was certain that you were awake the last time he saw you. Slowly he stood up, giving a small thanks to Taeyong before leaving the infirmary room. He wouldn't go to bed, he didn't need to, all he did need was some fresh air and thinking time.

Quietly, avoiding waking up any of the other residents, he made his way through the dimly lit corridors until finding the back door. Sliding it open carefully he tiptoed out, allowing the cool midnight breeze to blow on his face. It was a quick walk to the lake. Well it was more of a stream really.

As he reached the water's edge he finally sat down with the grass underneath him, occasionally the wind would move the grass in such a way that it'd dance in between his fingers, lightly tickling him. He had an urge to shift into his siren form but decided against it, knowing the younger boys they're probably spying on him right now from their bedroom windows.

He brought his head down to the grass and lay there, silently. The grass moulded underneath him, leaving his temporary mark into the land. He could hear the lake gently lapping against the bed, running further and further upstream. There was probably a river somewhere nearby, acting out as a branch into the wide and vast ocean.

Ocean. That word alone reminded him of...home. Could he really call it a home though?

It always surprised him how he even managed to survive. No one had realised he was different until he was six, when sirens get their human form. His once loving family turned on him just like that. Why? He was a young boy, not a girl.

He had loved where he lived. The small, grassy cove reached out onto the beach. The grass had a different feel to the one that grew at N City, it was more...rough. Pretty much summed up his whole childhood. At first it'd start with the girls his age, pushing and shoving. As soon as Taeil retaliated though that's when the older sirens began to torture him.

They left scars but they were easy to hide with clothes, he couldn't say the same for his siren form. That's why he refuses unless necessary, he doesn't need his friends to see him like that.

"Taeil hyung!" A young voice yelled out, his feet flattening the grass beneath each stride. This was someone who didn't care if he woke others. Donghyuck. "What are you doing out here?"

Taeil quickly wiped a stray tear and lifted himself up from the ground. Donghyuck bounded into him, wrapping his arms around his elder brother. He awkwardly returned the affection, he himself wasn't much of a skinship person.

"It's cold out here," Hyuck shivered as he pulled away. Taeil noticed he was barefoot and only wearing shorts with a thin, white shirt.

There was a moment of silence between the two. A chilling breeze blew passed them both, pinching their revealed skin. Hyuck quickly brought his hands to his upper arms and rubbed in a sad attempt to warm himself up.

"You didn't need to come out," Taeil eventually smiled and brought an arm around Hyuck's shoulders. "I was just getting some air before going to bed but let's get inside now. You're right, it's freezing."

Maneuvering back into the mansion Hyuck looked up in awe at Taeil. He didn't say anything, he knew Taeil wouldn't talk about this stuff with him but he had so much hurt in his eyes, so much pain, yet kept it inside and kept being his jokey self. Much like himself. He admired Taeil for that.

After walking Hyuck back up to his room which he shared with Jaemin and Renjun Taeil finally collapsed into his bed. He had to resist the urge not to run back to your infirmary room and go to bed in the chair again, just so he could be there for her when she woke up. Maybe he was being too attentive though so he decided against it, he didn't want to give others the wrong idea.

Settling down under his duvet and forcing his past memories out of his mind Taeil was finally able to sleep. Before he was completely gone a small smile sketched onto his features as a quick image of you fluttered through his mind. You were sleeping, safe and sound in the infirmary two floors below him, a smile which mirrored his own blessing your delicate features.

؂۵‗✩⑈

"TAEIL GET UP WE NEED YOU!" A series of knocks hammered at his door as various voices yelled his name. As of yet he was in no real hurry to get up, usually when this happened -and it tended to happen a lot in a house with the devil himself in it- there ended up being no real threat but instead a cream pie waiting to smack him in the face.

"TAEIL IT'S Y/N!"

Now he was up. If his fate did end up being a cream pie then he can bet that whoever the pranker was would soon become the prankee.

Dashing into your infirmary room with a sense of urgency he immediately went to your side. You were out cold, pale and seemingly unresponsive.

Taeil's eyes scanned the faces which accompanied him in the room: Taeyong, Doyoung, Jaehyun and ... Mingcheng. Quickly doing a body scan of the latter he released a sigh of relief- she was carrying no weapons and she didn't seem triumphant. Always a good sign.

"Taeyong what happened? How did her vitals drop so drastically you told me she was doing fine!" Taeil questioned, he knew he should have never left your side, screw the attentive nonsense he would've been there for you when you needed him most.

"Her heart and breathing rate dropped after another... episode. We've put her on oxygen but we aren't medics Taeil, this type of healing is beyond my powers. I heal bones. Not curses," Taeyong said sternly, not appreciating Taeil's seemingly ungrateful tone.

He took note of the oxygen mask and evaluated your chest movements, not quite how he'd like it but assumed it was an improvement.

Suddenly a pang of realisation hit him, how he had forgotten the most important piece of information he didn't know. "Episode? Is Nev okay, what happened?"

"About time grandpa. She's fine, shaken up but fine. Your little friend here tried to kill her she's lucky she-"

"She tried to kill her Taeyong? But I thought she was bed ridden," it was more of a observation than a question, although he failed to observe the very obvious glares which Mingcheng was shooting through him.

"Did he just interrupt me?" She hissed to her mate, Jaehyun, evidently pissed off.

"He's on edge babe-" "He'll be on the edge of my foo-"

"Jaehyun. Mingcheng. Please go check on Nev and Leon, shoot I should really check on Leon...Taeil, could you give me a second? Come on you two," Taeil just nodded, not watching the three of them leave and not giving Doyoung much of his attention either. His full focus was on you, this wasn't the secure figure he pictured last night, no this was the exact opposite.

There was a gentle silence which occasionally was interrupted by the sound of the heart monitor. Every time a sharp 'beep' pierced through the air Taeil would look up and check your heart rate, noting down if there was an improvement or not every time mainly for his own sanity. He was so absorbed in...You, that he forgot about Doyoung who was sat on the chair opposite the bed, checking out his older brother's behaviour and gentleness regarding you.

"Why do you like her so much?" He suddenly questioned, cocking on eyebrow in a way which Taeil couldn't stand, as if Doyoung had just figured out his entire life story by watching him for five minutes.

"I have no clue what you're on about," Taeil dismissed by shaking his head. "Who's Leon?"

"Just some Lion girl who's been stabbed or shot can't remember the exact details, brought some half wolf dude with her or something too. Now answer my question." Doyoung leaned back in his chair now, his long legs outstretched across the floor.

"You should really pay attention to the people Taeyong saves. Maybe then people will like you?" Taeil sniped back, mimicking his younger brother's actions as he leant back in his chair. Debating whether to stretch out his legs too he decided against it, he was much smaller than Doyoung and didn't need to prove it.

"What's the point? They looked like a total mad show anyway. I don't waste my breath on obviously crazy people."

"Yet you ended up living with sixteen of them, now more if you count the mates. You should loosen up, you're stressed," Taeil smiled as Doyoung chuckled to himself. He had got him there, the residents at N CITY were far from sane.

"I should say the same for you hyung, you should let us in and not push us away when we ask you stuff," now Doyoung had evened out the score. Taeil couldn't think of a reply and the sharp 'beep' of your machine left him unable to think straight anyway as he quickly noted down the results.

"I'm gonna check on Lion Girl and Wolf Boy, call us if anything happens okay?"

Taeil just nodded in response, "see you wizard boy," he smirked as the door clicked behind Doyoung as he left him by himself with you by his side.

He liked the thought of that, you standing by his side, just the thought of you standing without needing support made him happy.

He wanted you to be happy but this was just the sympathy talking... right?

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

That's chapter one guys 🤪 hoped you enjoyed and give my boy Taeil some love 💝 -Stroni-