#let us all pity the poor boy who confessed only to hear 'it's not too late to just shut up and go home'

[empress-simps]

Missed Hints

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Language Genre: Fluff Summary: Remus Lupin wanted to make his feelings known; he is trying numerous ways to tell you, but you are simply quite oblivious to the poor boy’s advances.

Note: Am I a bit too obsessed with Rems? Probably. This one's a bit shorter than the rest. Enjoy reading! Pictures used are from Pinterest, credits to the owners!

Sometimes, all Remus wanted to do was run into a wall to knock himself out.

Maybe it’ll help formulate a reason why you couldn’t pick up his signals and actions that he wants to be more than friends. Please cut this poor boy some slack; he’s literally done everything he could to hint that he likes you.

The problem is that you are quite oblivious- being as dense as the castle walls in Hogwarts. Although this hasn’t stopped Remus from pursuing you after several pitiful (also quite funny) attempts, if anything, it made him work even harder to let you know he fancies you.

“Y/n, wait up!” Remus calls out to you, leaving his mates, who were whispering words of encouragement and ‘good luck’ to him. Hearing your name made you turn around, a book in your hand, as you smiled at the taller boy. “Remus, hi!” He smiled, walking beside you and settling in at the same pace as you. Suddenly, a friend of yours piped up, “Y/n, we have to go get something in the dorms; stay with Remus, yeah?” before you could even reply, they were rushing to leave. Remus could only blush as your friends shot him a thumbs up before escaping the scene, trying to stop the giggles escaping their mouths.

It was all up to him now.

“Erm, so how were the holidays?” he asked, trying to act casually as he placed his hands in his pockets. The question made you hum, your eyes lit up. "Oh, it was wonderful! We spent the holidays in Canada, lots of snow, I made a snow man and visited some parks.” She nods, holding her book closer to her chest, seemingly lost in thought. “It was also freezing.” Remus hums in agreement. “Is that so? I’m glad you had fun.” He smiles, and you both walk towards the great hall to have dinner.

You looked up at him with a bright smile and said, “Tell me about yours, Rems! I’m sure it was also fun.” Remus blushed, hearing his nickname roll off your tongue so casually. Even after all the years you’ve known each other, simply calling him by his nickname that you specially made for him has an effect that never faded away. “Well, it was just simple, really. I just stayed at James’ and had fun.” He shrugged his shoulders, smiling at you. He could care less about his holiday shenanigans, preferring you just talk his ear off about every little thing you did, he will absorb what you say word by word, like a sponge.

 "Well, James is quite an interesting person.” She hummed in agreement, Remus felt his eyebrow twitch, a small twinge similar to jealousy creeping up into him. What about him? Do you think he’s interesting too? Was Remus someone who could be worthy of your time?

 “Yeah, that bloke was conjuring up some pranks to pull this year.”

You let out a small giggle and oh merlin please take the poor boy to Madame Pomfrey because he thinks his poor heart can’t handle all the feelings he has towards you. Remus Lupin is such a simp.

He clears his throat, trying to muster up some courage as he asks you the million-galleon question. “So, are you free tomorrow? It’s Hogsmeade day.” Remus smiles, thankfully, his clammy hands are kept under his pockets, making his nervousness almost unnoticeable. Your eyes lit up “Oh! I forgot, but yes, I am free tomorrow.” Remus saw his chance and took it. “Great, how about we hang out in Three Broomsticks?”

For Merlin’s sake, please make this turn into Lupin’s favor. He’s done too many ways to confess to your clueless self.

“That would be fantastic! I can bring my friends along, and you can bring James, Sirius, and Peter too!” you clapped your hands excitedly, not noticing how the werewolf visibly deflated as you exclaimed. Right, might as well reject him right now on the spot to end his misery.

He could probably shout “I love you” and stare at you directly- but you’ll just think he’s talking to someone behind you. Remus had also tried to pass you a note containing his feelings for you back then. Grabbing it without much of a thought, you passed it to your friend, thinking he wants you to give it to her, who shakes her head and sighs, looking at Remus.

The rest of the Marauders and your friends think Remus’s plans of confessing to you were a lost cause.

“Our poor Moony…” Peter frowns, as James shakes his head. “At this point, Moony should just kiss her.” Sirius sighed, feeling pity for his friend. “She would probably think it was a friendly kiss.” Peter snorts, trying to control his laughter, James glared at Sirius jokingly before pushing him. “Bugger off Pads, Y/N’s just… super innocent? I guess.” They resumed watching the two from a distance, a look of anticipation evident in their faces.

“I was kind of hoping it’ll be just us?” Remus grins nervously, sitting beside you as you reach the Gryffindor table. You took a bite out of the apple pie from your plate before replying, “Sure, it’ll still be fun. You’re a great company, Rems.” She smiles, before resuming on eating the remaining apple pie slice. Little do you know the simple compliment you made had a tremendous effect on Remus.

“Moony, your smile hasn’t left your face ever since Y/n agreed. Stop it, I’m getting scared.” Sirius states, Remus turns to look, a hint of a small dopey smile on his face. “Hm?”

“Oh merlin, Y/n broke him.” Peter blanches. They were smacked upside their heads lightly by James. “Come on now, don’t rain on his parade. Moon’s just… well- over the moon.” James laughs lightly, Sirius snorts while Peter tries to hide his smile. Remus rolled his eyes playfully, opening his trunk to pick out the clothes he’s going to wear tomorrow. “Whatever, now help me decide what to wear, you sods.”

“Rems! Over here!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes, arms up and waving in his directions. Remus smiles, maneuvering through the line of students waiting to get out of Hogwarts and to Hogsmeade. “Y/n! you look… pretty.” He blushes, drinking in the sight of you. Remus could swear on his life that he saw a light shade of pink dust your cheek as you tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

“Thank you, I like your sweater. It suits you.” You said, eyes going over his body and one of Remus’s signature sweaters. You can’t deny it; you like what you see, you were pulled from your thoughts when someone spoke.

“Oi! Get a move on you half-blood and goody-two-shoes! Holding up the bloody line is what you’re doing!” Evan Rosier, a Slytherin student complained a few feet away from you and Remus, Mulciber and Dolohov backs their fellow Slytherin and friend up. He snarls, those blokes, looks like they’ll have a new target for one of their nasty pranks.

“If I were you, I would shut my mouth.” Remus warns, standing in front of you, blocking your frame from their view.

Evan raised one eyebrow, amusement swimming in his eyes. “What are you going to do? Pesky little Gryffindor like you are always running around trying to be brave.” He taunts, moving closer to their direction.

“Rems, I’m fine. Let’s go, yeah?” She gently tugs the sleeve of his sweater, he looks down at you, his expression softening. “Alright then.” He threw one last warning look at Rosier over his shoulder; that punk needs to just wait and see what’s going to come and bite his ass.

The two of you are sitting in the Three Broomsticks, talking about basically anything under the sun. Well, you mostly talked while Remus just listens, humming and sometimes sharing his two cents on the topic you are on.

“Rems, thank you.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up in confusion, “Thank you? What for?”

“Earlier, Evan Rosier.”

“Ah, that prick. It was nothing, y/n.” He offers a gentle smile; he wants to touch your hand that was directly across his from the table but ultimately deciding against it, the last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for being my friend. You’re an amazing person who deserves the world.” She smiles, slowly taking his hand onto hers and squeezing it tightly.

He felt a crack in his heart. “Yeah, you are too.” He managed to choke out, offering a wry smile.

Friends. Is that it? Is he just one of the many friends you have in your life? Is he a friend that will slowly drift away after you graduate from Hogwarts? Merlin, he would even count himself lucky if you invited him to be at your wedding, and if he wants to push his luck then he might even be the godfather to one of your future kids.

You furrowed your brows, “Is there something wrong, Rems?” He looks at you, quickly shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?” You hummed, “Well, you have this kind of haunted look on you when you’re bothered about something; you’re doing it right now.”

Remus blinks, even he himself wasn’t aware of that. He closed his eyes and sighed; fuck it. He’ll push his luck to the extremes by confessing his love for you. Doesn’t matter if you see him as just a friend, you deserve to know.

“Y/n, I have to tell you something.”

“Of course. What would that be?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this without being upfront about it…” He starts, you urged him to continue; well, here goes nothing.

“Y/n, I-“

“Two butterbeers, correct?”

Remus wants to pull his hair out of frustration as the server walked towards them and set down the butterbeers they ordered, interrupting his speech. You smiled, thanking them before turning to Remus, who was frowning.

“What was it you were trying to say, Rems?” You asked, sipping your butterbeer.

“I like you, a lot. Ever since we met.” He simply blurts out quickly, as if he’s scared someone is going to interrupt again. You blink slowly, setting your butterbeer down gently.

“I like you too, Remus.”

“No- you don’t understand,” He shakes his head as you furrowed your eyebrows, utterly confused.

“I fancy you, love.” He emphasizes, taking both of your hands into his large ones, looking at you straight in the eyes, completely serious. She widens her eyes ever so slightly, her heart rate speeding up a bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve always fancied you too, Rems.”

Remus felt as if the time slowed down, his heartbeat pulsing faster, eyes blinking owlishly, his jaw slack in shock.

Did he hear that right? Please tell him that he heard that right.

“I-I… I gave you hints, love!” He sputtered, “But you’ve just ignored them every single time!” She frowns, “I didn’t notice…” Remus agreed, “Forgive me, but you were quite oblivious.” A small smile was on his face.

“You could’ve just said outright that you fancy me, Rems.” She chuckles, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“If you like me too, then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to force you.” She said, looking at the beverage in her hand. His eyes softened, “Force me? To what, love?”

She sighs, looking up at him. “I didn’t want you to force yourself to try to love me just because I feel that way for you.”  Before Remus could even speak, she opened her mouth again, “I know you, Remus. You would’ve tried either way, that’s just who you are.” She chuckles, sipping butterbeer before continuing.

“You have a heart of gold, Rems. That’s one of the things I love about you.” She rubs her thumb across his scarred knuckles gently. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the simple and gentle touch made his spine shiver.

If this was some kind of dream, then he would be more than happy to not wake up.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out, making you giggle. You stood up from your seat and leaned towards him, you can feel and smell his peppermint toothpaste fanning against your lips, beckoning you closer.

“You don’t even have to ask.” You closed the distance between you and sealed both of your lips with a kiss.

[redfreesias03]

Koi no Jubaku (“Love’s Spell”)

“Stop acting like you’re an adult, stop it with that earnest look on your face, I know for a fact that my friend likes you.”

OR: A girl decides to bow out gracefully and let her friend pursue their mutual crush only for their crush to mess everything up by confessing to her instead.

kokuhaku nante    shinaide yo tsukiai kata mo    shiranai kuse douyatte    watashi mamoru no yo konkyo mo nan mo nai kuse ni

Don’t you dare confess your love for me When you don’t know the first thing about going out How in the world are you going to “protect” me When you haven’t got a solid foundation or anything¹

otona buru no yamete majime kao mo yamete tomodachi ga kimi no koto suki da to    shitteru no yo    watashi

Stop acting like you’re an adult Stop it with that earnest face I know for a fact that My friend likes you

kyoushitsu ni wa    nani mo nai wa sonna tsuyoku    semaranaide onna doushi    yuujou tte konna koto de    hakanaku kudakeru no koi no jubaku

There’s nothing in this classroom Don’t pressure me so insistently Friendship between women Is easily broken over something like this Love’s spell

kokuhaku nante    shinaide yo onnagokoro mo    shiranai no ni ima nara    zenbu wasureru wa nanni mo iwazu    kaette yo

Don’t you dare confess to me Despite not knowing a thing about a girl’s heart If you stop now, we can still forget everything Don’t say another word and just go home

akirame kaketa no yuujou toru    tame yo zutto    zutto    suki datta nando datte    namida shita    watashi

I was ready to give up on my feelings for you So I could choose friendship over you I’ve always, always loved you I cried so many times over it

kyoushitsu ni wa    yuuhi ga sasu kimi to watashi    futari dake de tomodachi ni wa    nante iu no yappa koko de    unazukenai    aa koi no jubaku

The sun is setting in the classroom Just you and me together, alone What do I tell my friend? Right, there’s no way I can say yes here, ah Love’s spell

kyoushitsu ni wa    nani mo nai wa sonna tsuyoku    semaranaide onna doushi    yuujou tte konna koto de    hakanaku kudakeru no koi no jubaku

There’s nothing in this classroom Don’t pressure me so insistently Friendship between women Is easily broken over something like this Love’s spell

kyoushitsu ni wa    yuuhi ga sasu kimi to watashi    futari dake de tomodachi ni wa    nante iu no yappa koko de    unazukenai    aa koi no jubaku

The sun is setting in the classroom Just you and me together, alone What do I tell my friend? Right, there’s no way I can say yes here, ah Love’s spell

---

¹ One of the fancier Japanese euphemisms for guys when declaring their love is “I’ll protect you”, much like how in English you get statements like “I’ll always keep you safe” or “I’ll always be there for you”. The singer in this case is just like UGH YOU ARE A SCHOOLKID HOW DO YOU EVEN PLAN ON DOING THAT in a slightly hilarious and panicked attempt to cover up her feelings.

[maseshine]

Oii! Você poderia fazer a fic da música "You Belong With Me" com o Ben? :)

Right for you, Ben Chilwell

Prompt: You being his best friend and at karaoke singing "You Belong With Me" to him indirectly.

Warning: Disappointment, Sadness

Words: 1811

Notes: I was really excited to write this one. It's one of my favorite prompts and I already had it written, I don't know if that's how you imagined it, but I hope you like it a lot because I loved it so much🤍

Author's Note: I know a lot of people write with the use of quotes, but I'm used to using the dash, so I hope it's not a problem.

Being in love with your best friend is one of life's biggest clichés.  And sometimes it really hurt to see him and his "perfect girlfriend".

You sure as hell wouldn't have gone to karaoke if you knew she'd be there too.  Ben was perceptive in hiding it from you.  Really insightful.

You tried to keep your attention on Mason's out-of-tune presentation, but his eyes always seemed to betray you when they landed on the couple sitting across from you.

━ If you keep looking at them like that they'll think you're a maniac.  ━ Christian said giving his shoulder a little push.

━ I don't know what you're talking about.  ━ You changed the conversation.

━ And Mason can sing well.  ━ The brunette joked.  ━ We already know of his crush on Chilly, only he doesn't seem to notice it.

━ Or he knows and just doesn't talk about it because he doesn't feel the same way about me. ━  His voice came out dismayed, and Christian looked at her sympathetically.

━ If he doesn't notice, maybe he's not right for you, Y/N.

You didn't say anything else, Christian's words running through your head.  Maybe he was right.  She and Ben had been best friends for years, but maybe they couldn't be more than that.

━ Our next singer is Y/N  Y/L/N.  ━ You looked at the stage with surprise, you didn't put her name in the performance list.

His eyes fell on Mason who smiled innocently.  Motherfucker.  The boys made noise encouraging you to go on stage.  You took a deep breath before getting up from the table.

Your hands shook a little as you took the presenter's microphone.  His eyes scanned the available songs, stopping at one that fit his situation perfectly.  His ears picked up the beginning of the melody.

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset

She's going off about something that you said

'Cause she doesn't get your mood like I do

━ Babe... baby!  Come on, please calm down and listen to me!  ━ You heard Ben plead in the next room, your phone pressed firmly to his ear as he tried to reason with his current girlfriend.  All you knew was that he had shown his sincere side - apparently, not everyone knew he didn't have a filter.

But you knew the athlete more than anyone else, and he might need to stop and pull himself together occasionally, but it all came from his heart.

You were brought back to reality when you heard Ben grunt, dropping the phone against the table and running a hand through his hair.  You looked at him with sad eyes, reaching out and placing your hand over his so gently.

━ Want to talk about it, Chill?  ━ You asked him, watching as the corner of his lips twitched into a small smile with the nickname you gave him.

━ I don't believe you can save me from this situation, Y/N.  ━ Ben manages to say, clearing his throat to help transition into a new conversation.

You didn't want to push it any further - knowing that if Ben was comfortable enough, he would talk to you.  Hell, he told you everything.  Maybe it was because the two of you grew up together, so he had to hit puberty much faster.

Ben got undeniably hot fast, all the girls at his old high school noticed that.  You were about to ask him if he'd like to watch a movie, but his ringing phone interrupted, making you keep your mouth shut for now.

Ben suddenly straightened before grabbing the screen, a hopeful look flashing in his eyes as his girlfriend's name was projected in capital letters and a series of heart emojis.  You rolled your eyes with a small smile and gestured for him to take the call, swallowing your pride seconds after he left the room.  You left the house not long afterward, knowing you probably won't see your childhood friend for at least another week.

Walk in the streets with you and your worn-out jeans

I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench thinking to myself

Hey, isn't this easy?

You kicked a few pebbles off the path as you walked, with Ben by your side.  It felt strange for the two of you to be together – but a strangely comfortable stranger, as if life was supposed to be like that.

He was trying to chat a little about the weather, which quickly turned into a funny story of how he fell face first in the rain during last Friday's football game.

Her eyes were mesmerized by him as he threw his head back in laughter, his hands maneuvering in strange ways as he portrayed how the event actually happened.  You returned his laugh as you placed your hand on his bicep to steady yourself, little snorts following after.

━ I can't believe you still do that. ━  Ben said, his hand briefly resting on top of hers to hold her against him.  You raised your eyebrows in sync with the corners of your mouth, your laugh dwindling to a small laugh.

━ Do what?  You'll have to elaborate, Chilly.  ━ With his free hand, Ben lightly tapped the tip of his nose while smiling at his nonchalance.

━ That cute snort you make when you laugh too much.  I hadn't heard this since we saw Madders get stuck in the invisible wall of tape.

The memory provoked her to put her hand to her forehead as she chuckled her iconic laugh once more, remembering poor James' shocked expression as he recovered from the seemingly transparent 'door' and the few seconds that followed where he was frozen trying to understand what had just happened.

━ This is definitely the sound of joy.  ━ Ben said as he looked at you, just for you to poke him playfully.

Oh, I remember you driving to my house

In the middle of the night

I'm the one who makes you laugh

When you know you're about to cry

The end of the week approached faster than expected, especially since you spent most of your time pretending you didn't get Ben's text messages.

You needed time to pull yourself together and organize your priorities, and having him suddenly want you back in his life was an unexpected twist.  You've always had a stupid crush on Ben, but unlike the vast majority of girls who did, yours started when you were both young ━ when you had just gotten rid of the braces, and he had already started playing for a football team for the first time.

It was Friday night, and you had just curled up under the sheets, trying to get comfortable as an oncoming storm began to form outside.  Your phone was constantly indicating that you had a new message, but it was just Ben asking if you were going to the football game tonight.  Like the other messages, you ignored it and continued your favorite show on Netflix.

It was midnight when your phone woke you, realizing that you must have accidentally fallen asleep.  You could barely hear the phone ring due to the weight of the rain outside, but you answered anyway, surprised to hear a familiar, desperate voice on the other end of the line.

━ Y/N… I'm down here… me, something happened.  I didn't know where to go... I just drove, and I ended up here... something in me, I needed to see you.  Let me in, please.

He looked distressed, perhaps because he was crying.  You went down to the front door and opened it carefully, suddenly coming face to face with a saturated Ben Chilwell.  You reached out and dragged him inside, your eyes scanning his wet, shivering body.

━ Ben... you're freezing, you're going to get sick.  ━ You exclaimed as softly as you could,  not letting go of his hand, as you led him to your room.

You gestured for him to stay put before grabbing a clean towel from the bathroom, running back and closing the door before wrapping it around your shoulders.  You sat on the edge of the bed as he stood in front of you, seeming to have something to say, but couldn't think of how to start the conversation.

━ Why are you here?  ━ You finally said after a long period of silence, Ben's eyes strayed to the ground.  He cleared his throat a few times before realizing he was just whispering.

━ I saw Charlie with one of the Aston Villa players.  She was on top of him.  I... I asked her what the hell was going on, she basically said I wasn't good enough. Do you believe that? ━ He said exasperated, his hands pulling at her wet hair as it stuck to her forehead.

You closed your eyes for a moment as you took in this information, able to feel Ben's pain from where she sat.  But it wasn't a new pain, it was like it was the kind that was finally released after being repressed for too long.  As if it knew it was coming and would hold out until the dreaded day.

You pursed your lips and rose from the bed, standing right in front of him before taking his wrists and pulling them down between the two of you, your thumbs gently stroking the skin of his knuckles.

━ But why are you here?  At home?  You could have gone to Mase or called Madders.  ━ You muttered, hoping his tone of voice would calm you down.

Those eyes you fell in love with as a teenager were looking at you, taking in your details, your passion, your heart.  They were kind, just like you always knew he was.

━ Something attracted me to you, as if I was destined to be here. Do you know?  ━ He spoke so low you could barely hear him, but you could hear him clearly.

Were you obsessing over him by running out of words, confused as to what he was trying to say – was it a confession of love or some pity plea because you were the only one who cared?  You nodded your head to understand what he was saying, feeling your own radiance toward him for a long time.

A week later, he had returned to his girlfriend.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor

All this time, how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

His eyes traveled to the table where all his friends were sitting, everyone paying attention to his presentation.  Except Ben and his girlfriend.  A pang of pain whistled through her heart.  At Christian's words coming back to her mind.

If he doesn't notice, maybe he's not right for you Y/N.

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me

You belong with me

Maybe Ben didn't belong to you.  Not how you wanted it.

[euphoricsunflowers]

drowning in your scent — chae hyungwon

a/n: ajshdhs this this officially the longest fic on my blog by a whole lot (i think the only thing that comes somewhat close is queen’s whore at like 3.1k sheesh) so in the spirit of that! please give this fic a lot of love!!

word count: 4.7k

content: goddess au, sub!hyungwon, dom!fem!reader, the sex scene involves kissing, lip biting, neck kisses, and riding, fun stuff like that, and minhyuk is here!! he’s mentioned a lot lmao hyunghyuk besties

warning: this fanfic does take place in a village setting where there’s a bad harvest of food and so there’s a lot of mentions of food and starving. as someone with problems with food myself this could be potentially somewhat triggering so please don’t read if need be and i want to emphasize that if you need help to please reach out for it. i know what it’s like, please even feel free to reach out to me if need be, but do remember i’m not a professional.

summary: a boy from the village struggling through a bad harvest and the goddess of nature, of animals and forests, and of flowers so lovely the scent will make you dizzy, make a deal.

“hyungwon,” the voice calls out to him, and his heart aches when he sees it’s minhyuk that’s speaking to him. the usual cheer and brightness to minhyuk’s voice has all but vanished, “come on, we need to get to work,” he trudged slowly behind his friend, with minhyuk’s hand holding his own. there’s nothing but comradery between them, and yet hyungwon feels like he would trust minhyuk with his life.

“i hate this,” hyungwon murmurs under his breath, but he can faintly hear minhyuk chuckle at his whining, “i’m serious!! there’s barely any food and i’m starving and i’m supposed to pick fruit that i won’t even be allowed to eat?!”

minhyuk’s face is stone cold suddenly as he turns to, for lack of a better phrase, tell hyungwon to shut the hell up, “lower your voice,” he orders, and hyungwon deflates, but he obeys, and the quiet returns as they continue to walk to their spot in the field to pick the fruit, “i’m sorry, but i worry that being so outspoken will be your downfall, won.”

as they pick the apples, in silence from their short and blunt conversation, hyungwon spots one that stands out from the rest. he tries to resist getting a closer look at it, but he just can’t. he takes a few steps over towards it, subsequently a few steps away from minhyuk, and the apple does the rest. it’s almost hypnotic in the way hyungwon can’t take his eyes off of it. it’s red and glowing and hyungwon doesn’t know how he’s the only one captivated by the apple.

it’s like the fruit is speaking to him, calling him away, and he starts walking, even when minhyuk calls after him, he knows minhyuk spoke even though he couldn’t hear him. he walks for a few minutes, through the trees and the dense forest that he’s never traversed before. he doesn’t have to constantly gaze at the apple now, but he grips it in his hand like his life depends on it.

he comes upon a small statue hidden in the depths of the forest. it’s a stone carving of a bird, wings spread as if flying through the sky. it’s beautiful.

“isn’t it?” he hears from behind him, actually registering someone spoke to him this time, and he turns to see who it is. instead of the face of cheerful minhyuk he’s so used to seeing, a beautiful figure graces his eyes.

hyungwon can’t even focus on the physique, though, he’s too entranced by the piercing eyes that stare into his soul practically and the voice he can hear ringing in his head. “isn’t it, dear?” your voice repeats again, and he feels compelled to answer, though he’s not exactly sure how you read his thoughts. maybe he had actually said them out loud.

“yes,” he murmurs softly, turning back to look at the statue, “it’s gorgeous,” he takes a step closer to the statue to get a closer look.

“your voice,” you speak again, “i- nevermind,” you stop yourself, instead choosing to take a step closer to him, your hand touches his shoulder, “can i help you with something, dear?”

“i- what?” he’s taken aback by your question, because he didn’t search you or this place out, he was practically lured here by the fruit, “no, i-i’m okay, thank you though.”

“are you sure?” your touch on his shoulder finally registers in his head, like all his reactions are slowed and delayed, “if you’re not here for something, then… why are you here?”

“i dont… i don’t know,” he was never loud, but he’s even quieter now, “the apple… it led me here.”

you suddenly fell silent. he wonders if you used to apple to lure him, if this is a trap, but your touch is still so distracting and he can’t bring himself to care much. you look so harmless, with such pretty features that he wants to stare at forever.

it does make him wonder, however, just why your tone was so brazen when he said he wasn’t here to ask anything of you. you looked baffled when he said no, like that was the only reason you expected him to be here, “do people always just come searching for you… asking for things?”

“yes, they do,” you respond bluntly, but your words aren’t hostile. he faintly feels a sense of pity in his heart for you.

“that sounds like… such a sad existence,” the words leave his lips without him really putting much thought into them.

“it is,” you say as silence falls between the two of you before he speaks up.

“you uhm… are you… human?” you’re a beautiful yet lonely person in the forest, and it makes him wonder if you even are a person.

“no, dear,” you say as you lift your hand, the grass beneath both of you growing as you do so, “i am a being that represents nature. i think you humans would call me a god or goddess?”

“oh that’s… incredible. please explain to me more,” his eyes find you once again, watching you with already such a soft, adoring gaze.

“you just want to hear me talk, little human,” your tone is playful as his cheeks become rosy.

“maybe,” he smiles cheekily, “will you still explain it to me?”

“of course, sit with me and the flowers, will you?” you ask him, and he plops on the ground, sitting with his legs crossed as you begin, “i can control how nature exists in this world. i can make your flowers grow or trees in your forest more dense. you humans also love to hunt the sweet animals i create, ”

you pause, as if to give him a chance to speak up, and he does, “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s alright, dear, your apologies are not necessary. besides, once they do die, they become gifts for other gods, and those gods treat their gifts from me very well,” you smile somberly, “tell me, how are you humans doing?”

he wants to lie, for some reason. he has an urge to just say ‘everything is fine, let’s just talk about happy things. i want to be happy’ but he doesn’t, “we’re… you want my honesty, right?”

“yes, yes absolutely,”

“we’re suffering. there’s too little food for everyone,” his stomach rumbles as he’s in the middle speaking, and he makes a sort of ‘see what i mean?’ gesture, “and we barely have enough to keep everyone alive through the month..”

you subtly gasp at his confession he just gives so easily, “and yet you were expected to pick fruit? that seems unfair, dear.”

“it was work that had to be done for the good fo the village,” he lowers his head at the thoughts racing through his head, envisioning the soft eyes of his friend, “but min- uh, my friend, he’s all i have. i know i… said i didn’t have anything to ask of you… and this may seem too much of me to ask, but now that i know what you are and can do, could you please help them? the people of my village, i mean,” he pleads, his eyes shining in the light.

“you want me to… provide them food?”

“please, i’d do anything,”

your face is suddenly much more serious, and you grip his shoulder as you lean in close to him, “for future reference, dear, don’t ever tell a being like me you’d do anything. ever. got it?” you were kind. you knew you were kind, but there were some that would rip his poor, innocent heart to shreds, steal his soul because he didn’t read the fine print. you’re relieved someone so soft and sweet and almost angelic stumbled upon you of all beings.

“yes,” he practically squeaks.

“good,” you sigh as you stand up, “i will help you, little thing. in return, please stay with me for one day. tomorrow afternoon, at this exact hour, you can return to the village,” you extend your hand for him to shake, “are those terms agreeable to you, my little human?”

his heart pounds in his chest. you want him to stay with you? for a whole day? he decides it’s a price that’s easy to pay if he remembers the prospect of being able to save him friend and his people from starvation “yes,” he murmurs, reaching out to shake your hand.

—

it doesn’t take much effort from you, just a wave of your hand and apparently, the harvest in the village would magically improve. he supposes one day is not a lot of his little time to give up if it meant the village could be revitalized with a bountiful amount of food. he just hopes minhyuk isn’t worrying too much.

you have a cottage of your own, he learns. it confuses him slightly because you’re a goddess, why would you need a very human-esque living space? he supposes he’ll never learn the answer to that question. the thing itself is impossible to see from the outside, he could have sworn nothing was there until your hand was in his (his heart stopped for a good minute) and you led him up the stairway leading into the cottage.

“make yourself at home,” you tell him, and he nods in a daze. your place was beautiful, full of flowers and vases with more flowers and little flower trinkets on the table and mugs with flower designs. judging from anything you considered to be your domain, you seem to like flowers. the softness of the atmosphere is calming to him, the scent of all the flowers is overwhelming, his knees are weak.

“what- what are you going to do with me for this day that you have me? you must have some plan for me,” you tilt your head with a faint smile on your lips as he sits beside you on the couch, “do you want me to work? am i a servant? please, all cards on the table, tell me what you want from me.”

“all cards on the table?” you echo, and he nods, for a second wondering if you just straight up didn’t know what he meant, but you lean in to him, close enough to just barely need to lean just a little more and you’d be kissing him, “i just think you’re cute. forgive me if i just wanted a day to gaze at you.”

he’s startled as you pull yourself away, leaving him flustered and blushing and stuttering as you excuse yourself outside to grow more flowers. he sees the beautiful sunflowers and roses and tulips and then his eyes find you once more. your beauty just radiates, it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating that he feels the safest really taking it all in when you’re focused on your flowers, not leaving him a blushing mess whilst so close to kissing him he just might faint.

the sun hits your skin in such a beautiful way that he can’t can’t stop staring. it’s ironic how you wanted him to stay for a night because you thought he was cute but he cannot take his eyes off of your beautiful smile and hair and demeanor and just… aura. your presence is so soft and comforting yet so overwhelming to him. it’s all something he can’t understand.

you return a few hours later, having given your guest time to really settle in. as you open the door, he’s in the kitchen area with one of your mugs, drinking a cup of tea peacefully and quietly, “welcome back,” he mumbles with a smile.

“hi there, little human,” you smile back at him, taking a seat beside him, “i’m… sorry. i know you were probably lonely, here all by yourself-“

“no, i actually enjoy the quiet. it beats picking fruit,” he shrugs.

“speaking of food, i was able to grant your request, but i completely forgot about you. would you like something specific to be prepared for your evening meal?” hyungwon forgot what it was like when there wasn’t barely enough food to survive on. he tells you his wishes for meat and vegetables and starches his stomach aches for, “alright, dear. sit at the counter with me as i cook.”

he’s stunned for a second, “i didn’t know you can cook.”

“you don’t know my name, my sweet. we have a lot to learn about each other.”

“what is your name?” he asks, and you giggle to yourself, having known he’d ask it the moment you brought up the fact that he hadn’t yet.

“y/n,” you answer, finding the spices you wanted, “and yours, my beautiful flower?”

his heart skips a beat at the endearing term you use. at this point, he wonders if you’re getting enjoyment out of flustering him so helplessly like this, “hyungwon,” he sees the way you smile when you hear his name. it makes him smile too.

“hyungwon… what a beautiful name you have, my dear. it’s fitting, for someone as beautiful as you,” at this point he’s absolutely sure you’re getting a kick out of making him a flustered mess, because now his cheeks are red and he can’t meet your gaze, “sorry, i don’t mean to fluster you—,” liar, he thinks, “— i just can’t help adoring you.”

“you’re too much for my weak heart,” he mumbles exasperatedly as you cook, looking over at him with that cheeky smile on your face like you know just how much you wreck his heart and his composure.

you seat him at the small-but-not-too-small dinner table, bringing plates of food and finally sitting at the seat across from him, “eat as much or as little as you want, dear.”

he goes to ask before he puts too much thought into the question, “are you not gonna eat-? oh, wait, nevermind, do you not need to?” you nod, smiling.

“i’m grateful that you think of me, angel, but you’re correct: this is all for you,” and while he’d theoretically be hesitant to eat while you just sit there, he finally remembered just how hungry he was, and so it would have taken much more restraint than he currently had to restrain himself.

after dinner, you lead him him to the bedroom in your cottage. emphasis on the singularity in that term, “oh- uh, a-am i going to sleep with you-?” he stutters.

“you can, you don’t have to if you don’t wish to, flower. i don’t really have to sleep so if you want the bed all to yourself, then it’s yours. i just… i thought maybe- you know what,” you tone changes suddenly, and he’d be damned if he didn’t catch it, “nevermind. take the room. call for me if you need me, i’ll be outside with the flowers again-“

“wait!” he calls out as you turn to leave him alone. you look over at him, eyes shining so beautifully in the moonlight.

“yes, my flower?”

he’s flustered once again, but he can’t help wanting you to stay with him. he reaches his hand out to you, similarly to how you reached yours out to him, “stay with me?”

you accept the proposal, sitting on the bed with him, weaving a few flowers into a flower crown while he lays on his side, watching you work on the crown like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

“i think sunflowers will look pretty against your skin, hyungwon,” you mumble, keeping your voice soft as to not disrupt the peaceful atmosphere you’ve both created, and he smiles bashfully at your words, “truly, i think anything would look beautiful on you, but the yellows would really bring out the strong, almost sensual browns in your eyes. can- can i?”

he nods in consent, sitting up and sitting still for you, and your fingers gracefully position the crown on top of his head, “ah, do i look good with it on?”

“oh absolutely, sweetheart, but,” you scoot closer to him, and once again, his heart beats rapidly and his thoughts evaporate into thin air, replaced by the bashful shyness and the way he’s suffocated by your scent, breathing it in like it’s a drug, “in my opinion, you’re the most beautiful.”

he can’t breathe.

���i-i, um, oh my god,” he stammers, so shy as you smile at how he struggles.

“can i kiss you, pretty boy?” you whisper, your hand raising to hold his cheek as you gaze at his lips. it’s subtle, probably because he was malfunctioning inside, but he nods, closing his eyes and passively waiting for your lips on his.

he didn’t know what to expect, with you being a god and all, but it was so much more than he could have prepared himself for, both mentally and physically. it was a rush if he’d ever felt one, both his body on fire and goosebumps lining his skin.

your style of kissing makes him ache in so many ways. his lips will definitely be bruised from the way you bite them, drawing blood like a vampire but in the kindest way possible, your hand cupping his cheek and you other rubbing his thigh soothingly is enough to keep him from crying out because of the pain.

“stop me, hyungwon,” you mumble under your breath, “if you don’t want this, you need to stop me. tell me to stop and i will,” but how did you ever expect him to do that when he’s already so wrecked and all you’ve done is kissed?

“don’t,” he whispers, “don’t stop, please,” and you oblige, keeping your lips busy on his neck as he groans, reaching out to hold your waist, “please,” he echos his own words weakly.

“tell me what you want, i’ll do it, just tell me,” you see how choked up he is, and it’s cute how easily he’s wrapped around your finger, “tell me, tell me, my flower.”

“touch me more,” he breathes, and you help him throw off his shirt. your hands are all over him in an instant, you press kisses down his neck, paying attention to his chest as your hands wander lower and lower.

he bites his lip in anticipation, but it feels just like how it felt when you bit his lip before and he audibly moans at the recent memory. it’s almost embarrassing when he realizes just how openly and easily he’s been moaning since you started.

and it’s not like he exactly expected a warning, but he wasn’t ready for when one of your hands started rubbing his crotch and making him moan and whine helplessly, “please don’t tease me.”

“hm, alright, sweet thing. how about i ride you? would you like that?” he nods desperately, weak at the thought of you using him for your own pleasure and leaving him to drown in the overwhelming pleasure you give him, “take off your pants and underwear, then.”

he scrambles to do as you say, watching with his jaw dropped as you make the garments you wear all but disappear with just a wave of your hand, and he’s intimately reminded that you’re not human, that he shouldn’t have trusted you so implicitly as to let you put him in this position, and that he’s playing a game where he doesn’t know the rules.

but then he sees the genuineness in your smile, the way you treat him so kindly yet assertively, soft yet harsh, and he just can’t fathom being in any real danger when he’s being swallowed by so much pleasure when he’s under you like this.

he’d been zoned out for a few moments until you’re actually riding him already, holding his hand in a softness that makes him weak. he suddenly notices the flowers in your hair, the way your nose crinkles up when you smile down at him, the way looking at your lips reminds him of the ache on his. it’s incredible just how infatuated he is, the way he adores so much being not just under you in a physical sense but also being under your spell.

he moans in such a heavenly bliss, eyes fluttered shut as he can only hear his own voice make sounds that would normally make him embarrassed. he can’t bother to care right now because when he opens his eyes, you seem to like the sounds he makes. and he wants to please.

“hyungwon, d-dear,” you murmur, your hands resting on his chest to keep yourself stable on his chest, “i can’t keep my eyes off of you, baby. you’re absolutely ethereal. so please, can you show me how pretty you are when you cum? can you cum for me, my flower?”

god that name was the most precious thing to him, he wanted to be your beautiful flower forever.

he does cum. he orgasms viscerally, his body trembling as he throws his head back, his jaw slacked as he moans loudly, cumming so hard he can see white.

he stays in that headspace of pleasure, higher than the clouds, for a few moments as the high subsides and he’s left with a euphoric feeling that keeps him shivering with aftershocks, until he starts to hear your voice. you whisper little nothings to him as he starts to come down completely, “i’ve got you, little thing, don’t worry, you’re safe with me.”

he briefly ponders why you keep calling him ‘little thing’ when he’s as tall as he is, but your kisses to him temple take that thought away, “y/n?”

“yes, dear?”

“can you sleep with me?” he asks, not realizing that you already told him that you don’t need to sleep.

still, you can’t resist him when he’s just so adorable with that pout he probably doesn’t even realize he’s making, “of course, let’s clean up just a little bit, and i’ll lay with you while you sleep, angel.”

—

morning comes far too soon. you still have him for another 7ish hours, but once they’re up, he’ll return to his village, to that friend he mentioned, and disappear from your existence forever. it’s almost pitiful how quickly you became attached to the pretty thing.

you look over at him, sleeping so, so peacefully, his cheek squished against the pillow while he pouts and you can’t help but coo at how precious he looks.

it’s impossible to imagine a life anymore where you can’t keep looking at his face, at his pretty lips (that are covered in bruises in a way that makes this moment a bit less melancholic and innocent), at the softness in his eyes when he gazed at you. what a miserable fate that would be to live through.

“what’s on your mind?” you hear him groan tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. you go to object, say ‘of course it’s nothing just go back to sleep dear’, but he catches it and, even in the early morning, he won’t take a lie.

“i just… you have a life to return to, and i don’t want to deprive you of that. i’ve just grown to like you, is all,” you murmur as you run your fingers through his hair, hearing his soft gums of contentment, “an existence of being by yourself might make one somewhat… easily attached.”

hyungwon doesn’t know how to respond, but he sits up, despite the tiredness that still rests in his body, he moves to get himself out of bed, using his hand to brush his hair out of his face, “we still have time together, so let’s do something you want to do.”

“like what?” you smile sadly, “what should we do?”

“hmm…” he makes a really cute face when he thinks, you realize, and it just makes you fall a little bit more, “well you really like flowers right?”

“of course,”

hyungwon’s face lights up, like he’s had a sudden realization, “oh! then what if we painted? i have minhyuk’s paints in my bag!! minhyuk told me to hold onto them for the day and i kept them on me!”

“wha- what if your friend doesn’t want you to use them?” you stutter, but you can feel that you’re already on board.

“then that’s his problem!”

now to be honest, painting was not hyungwon’s strong suit, but he had such a fun time with mixing colors and making flowers that don’t really look like flowers come to life on the many wooden walls of your cottage. neither of you had brushes either, so it was really just fingerpainting, and by the end, your hands were covered in myriads of greens and yellows and pinks reds and blues tinted by the white, they were almost works of art themselves.

and after hours of painting, making more flower crowns, even teaching him to make flower crowns, and more activities, your time with him was dwindling. of course, he doesn’t have to leave, but the time that he had to stay was slowly slipping away from you.

“hyungwon,” you mumble, getting his attention as he sits on the couch while you were supposedly making tea. you raise your hand, displaying a bright red apple, “this is the one from yesterday, right?”

“y-yeah, i think so, why?”

“i- come here, please.”

he wobbles over to the kitchen, sitting beside you as you show off the fruit, “what’s going on?”

“remember when you told me the apple lead to you the statue?” he nods, “this apple is blessed with my energy. it’s… magical, in a human sense. i just want to apologize for decieving and likely confusing you yesterday,” you look down at the fruit, shiny and glowing red with liveliness, “but i have a… proposal of sorts.”

“i- alright, what is it?”

“take a bite,” you say, your tone heavy with implications of what will happen, “take a bite, and stay with me, will you?”

“what- what about my family? my friend? what about the life that i have?” he asks, but it’s all rhetorical, he doesn’t expect a serious answer, “i was willing to give you a day, i can’t give you my life.”

why can’t you, you feel the urge to murmur to him, why can’t you give that all up? you know i’m all you want now, you’ll only spiral down even further into me, “you don’t have to eat it all, just a bite, just one.”

“what- why are you so adamant that i eat that apple?”

“because!” your voice cracks ever so slightly, and once again his heart aches and he rushes to attempt to soothe you, to hold your heart in his hands and never once let it be hurt, “because you are all i want, hyungwon,” you mumble as he hugs you, resting your head against him, “because i want you to return to your friend and your village, but i’m selfish, i’m so, so selfish. this is the best middle ground i could think of.”

“...what does taking a bite entail?” he asks tentatively, and his heart jumps when he sees your eyes shine with hope. whether or not you know it, you’ve got him good.

“half the time, you’ll be mine. your soul has to reside in my domain, your heart will constantly ache for me,” you murmur, your hands suddenly wandering and he chokes out a moan, “but the rest of the time, you can return to the village. you can return to your life, and i will not make any attempts to steal you away during that time.”

he’s left speechless, not exactly sure what you’d want him to say now, but you place the apple in his hands, pressing a few faint kisses to the edge of his lips just to fluster him, but then you disappear outside. he watches you through the window as you tend to your flowers, picking a sunflower to place into your hair. he’s so entranced by the way you move that he can barely focus on what he needs to focus on: the apple.

he wonders what minhyuk is feeling right now. he’s probably worried to death, horrified out of his mind that his friend just disappeared into the forest. he wants so badly to go back and reassure him that nothing bad happened and go back to the way things were except things would be better.

but he does also feel a sense of… devotion? infatuation? love, maybe? whatever it is, he feels something towards you. his heart aches to please you, to do in this situation what would make you happy. the way you looked when you were so emotionally vulnerable with him, you didn’t seem like a god that he had to worship in that moment, you seemed like a soul that he wanted to love. it’s this feeling deep in his soul that just leaves him, both his heart and his body, utterly defenseless to the prospect of you.

so this is the end of him as he’s been for his whole life. or at least, in a sense, half of him. he’s grateful that you went outside to let his head clear just a bit, it’s always so clouded with you and your scent and your aura that he feels delusional. he tosses the apple around anxiously as he tries to decide what to do, but in the end, there’s not a chance in the world that he could ever go against what would make you happy.

he tries to delude himself into thinking it’s a conscious choice he makes, but he knows he’s lying; he just doesn’t want to accept it. he’s been a wreck since the moment you lured him away with the very apple he holds, there’s not a single reality in which he gives you up. his heart aches to protect yours, and his body wishes to be ruined by yours.

he takes a bite. he’s yours.

—

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[talas-starlight]

Lover - Percy Jackson x Fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve crushed on Percy for years, him on the other hand? It’s more of a recent development. That doesn’t mean he likes you any less.

(Older Percy & reader - they're like 21) ALSO idk perfectly what happens in trials of apollo so let’s just ✨ignore that ✨ & this isn’t sexual despite what the title may suggest

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: hi friends this is for @fromthewatertribe​ ‘s 1k follower event!! Im sure most of you have but if not definitely check out their work!! Its soooo good I promises and ugh their Leo fic?! *chefs kiss* anyway idk if this is any good oop I tried

PROMPTS USED: 9 & 11. (they’re bolded)

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of ptsd & anxiety, kissing stuff lol ish eh idk, mentions of percabeth breakup?? Does that count?

MASTERLIST: here!

An obnoxiously red and orange light filters into the motel room, even with the old and tattered curtains closed, the motels’ sign conquers its way through the fabric. Sighing you flop yourself on the faded, probably twenty-year-old bed. Nose scrunching as some dust raises into the air, consequently letting out a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Did you just bless yourself?”

You winced at the reminder someone else was in the room, exhausted after the two-day travel to a motel room in the middle of whoop. “Yeah…”

“You really are something, aren’t you?” At the calm amusement evident in his tone, your heart rate began to slow down. He didn’t think you were crazy.

You let out a breathy laugh. Wow, I wonder how those stains got on the ceiling? Lava monster perhaps? Are those even a thing? Probably.

“Yeah… well, someone has to Jackson.” You glance towards him, he’s sitting at the small, poor excuse of a dining table. Heart rate picking up again as he gives you a small smile, already having his eyes on you this entire time.

“If I don’t, who will?” you continue.

“Touché. In that case, I’ll do the blessing from now on; you deserve a break.” Shooting you a wink. Instantly feeling flustered at his action, you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, Percy, if only you knew you’ve already been blessing me for the past six years.

“Even say…. If we’re in a battle?” you muse.

He gets up from the table and walks towards you. Once he reaches your side of the queen bed, he kneels, grabbing the hand closest to him, while putting his other on top of his heart. “Oh, y/n l/n, even with my dying breath.”

With that, you burst into a fit of laughter. This boy and his sarcasm.

You play along. “Hmmm what a great tale that will be. The one and only, Perseus Jackson, spending his final breath on sweet old y/n l/n. How dare you burden me with such a legacy to live up to! They’ll think I’m your lover, you know. Demigods all around the world will come searching for me, just to gawk at the beauty that stole your heart.”

At this point, Percy has fallen from his kneeling position, completely lying on the ground, overcome with laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Percy! How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I don’t live up to their expectations?! I’m hardly a warrior either, oh the disappointment.”

Gasping for breath, he manages to find his words, “Don’t stress it y/n, you’re plenty beautiful. I just know they’ll all be stunned by your beauty. Don’t sell yourself short… trust me, once they see you, they’ll be envious that my lover was so enraptured by me that you’ll never be able to love again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. Would that be so bad?

Gasping for breath, eventually, both of your laughs die down, leaving you both breathing heavily. “C’mon Percy, let’s get some sleep. Its going to be a long week of scouting for demigods if we’re tired.”

As Percy nods, silently getting up to go to the bathroom to change, but he can’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. No matter how long.

It had been three days since you and Percy arrived in the town you continuously fail to remember the name of. It wasn’t the only thing you were failing at doing either, because it seemed that for some unknown reason, the school that was supposed to arrive here for their camping trip still hadn’t shown up.

“We should send an Iris message to camp. It doesn’t look like they’re showing up any time soon, and by the looks of things, we’re going to need to have them send someone for more supplies.”

Percy sighed, looking out the window. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Maybe… he knew he’d be a stupid fool to pass it up. Swept up in his new thoughts, he never replied. “Percy?”

Without even looking at you, he nodded, turning to go to the bathroom, “Yeah sure, I’ll go into the bathroom and make the call.”

Humming in acknowledgement as he left the room, you couldn’t help but stare at the spot he was previously standing in from your position on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look too good.

For such a great hero, you wondered if this quest was doing him any good. After the first day of scouting the campsite, it was obvious he was already antsy to get home. It seemed no matter how light you tried to keep the atmosphere; it was like something was weighing on his mind. Mostly when you were both in the motel room together, you supposed it was because he barely went on quests nowadays. Understandably so, after all, who could blame him for wanting a break and spend time with his family? This made you feel immensely guilty since you could never give him words of truly understanding what he’s gone through. You’d arrived at camp a few days before him, yet over the years you were never sent onto a major quest. It upset you greatly at first, but you grew to appreciate your time at camp.

Before your mind could delve further into its guilt and self-pity, Percy re-entered the room, sitting next to you with a huff. “It’s all good. They’re going to send Leo with some extra supplies, and he’ll help us for the rest of this quest.”

Accidentally getting swept up in how pretty his eyes were, you tensed up, realising he was staring at you expectantly. Quickly nodding and clearing your throat you looked down to your lap, “ahh, okay that sounds good. I guess we’ll have time to sightsee or something…”

Sightsee? Really y/n? There’s nothing in this stupid town!

An awkward silence filled the room. Due to your previous thoughts, you were unsure how to proceed. This was the first time you were alone with him and had nothing else better to do.

Percy on the other hand, found that the obvious swooning look in your eyes was his green light. “Uhhh actually y/n?”

Oh, please don’t ask me why I basically just drooled all over you for NO FUCKING REASON. Snapping your head back up to look at him, you desperately tried to ignore the pounding in your chest that managed to find its way into your ears, “yeah?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Holy shit he knows, doesn’t he? He knows I’ve liked him this entire time, and he’s going to reject me even though I never even said anything!

“I uhm… look I know we’re kind of on a small quest and all but technically we ARE waiting for Leo and the school to arrive before we continue… and you know we kind of have like at least a day or two until then so I was just wondering…”

“Yeah, Percy? You can just say it, you know; I really don’t mind.” I do mind, but please get this over with before I cry. With your heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and face heating up so much, you wanted Zeus to blast you right then and there.

Percy felt like he was about to puke, he’d never felt this nervous before. Yeah, he had his moments growing up with Annabeth, after all, she was his first girlfriend, but this was different. He wanted this to be different. Sure, he never regretted their relationship, and yes, he knew he’d always remember everything they went through- what he went through but… he wanted a clean slate. He desperately just wanted nothing more than to know that there was at least one person in his life that wasn’t constantly fighting for their lives—someone who didn’t have to live with as much trauma as him.

“W- would you maybe... Gods, do you want to have dinner tomorrow night? Maybe at the diner further into the town?”

HOLY FUCK.

He was interested and honestly, you were over the moon. Breathing out the breath you were holding in, you fail to hide the smile on your face, “yeah, I’d like that.”

His face instantly broke out into a wide smile matching yours. “Wait really?”

Unable to hold back a small giggle, you nodded, “yeah, Percy.”

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admire the blue dress you found in a charity shop this morning while Percy was sleeping. I can’t believe this is happening.

If you had old even more awkward 15-year-old y/n that you were about to go on a date with the boy you admired from your table during meals (when he was there), you would’ve laughed. Mainly because at that point, he didn’t even know you existed, only having your first conversation during the battle of Manhattan when you were helping Will.

Okay… lets do this.

Walking out of the bathroom, Percy is already sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt, jeans and converse waiting for you.

“Woah… You look uh-” Never finishing his statement, worry bubbled in your chest.

“Oh, uhm… I- I can change if you’d like?

Jumping up from his place on the bed, his head shook quickly. “NO! N-no don’t do that.”

“Ah uhm… okay? Sorry, it’s just I saw it in a store earlier and uhm… it looked nice, and I just thought that maybe it’d be cool to maybe put in a bit more effort? I mean… not that you don’t look good or anything! I love what you wear, you always look nice! but I don’t know… I don’t get to look nice much and… I just wanted it to be kinda special since we don’t get to… well our lives don’t really grant us these opportunities very often. Or at least for me anyway…”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I totally get it… you look beautiful.” After hearing your small confession and thought to prepare for your date, his heart felt like it was melting. How could someone be so thoughtful when all he was doing was taking you to a rundown diner who probably only served mediocre burgers?

A small wave of guilt washed through him. Feeling like he would never be able to truly sweep you off your feet or give you that sweet, tooth-rotting love and affection, every day, just like you deserved. After everything, he knew he could try his best but even then, he’d never be able to hide the anxiety or PTSD he had acquired over the years.

You looked up to him with a smirk. “Glad to hear it, lover.”

Cheeks heating up at your comment, he laughed trying to play it off as cool as possible. Taking a step closer to you and flattening his shirt as if it would wipe away its wrinkles, he held out his arm. “Shall we, lover?”

Matching his level of fake sophistication, you linked your arm with his, “with pleasure.”

And with that, you both walked out of the motel, with hopeful spirits. To any onlooker, you both looked like normal young adults.  

“Where the fuck are you?!” Percy’s voice boomed from his end of the phone, supposedly made without any monster risks.  

You winced, slowly and cautiously walking your way out of the forest. The once clean dress was now covered in dirt and had few tears. It went perfectly with your dishevelled, twig and leaf infested hair.

“Space doesn’t really exist, so I’m nowhere. Life is built on social constructs and, since there’s no way to know if we’re really alive or if it’s just an illusion, I can’t be anywhere.”

“Y/n.”

Okay, he was concerned, and you couldn’t blame him. After all, how did you expect him to react after getting separated from you as you were chased into the woods by an Empousai after dinner?

Romance at its finest.  

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up, but I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as you replayed the events that just occurred in your head. The date was amazing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still sweet. Which led you both to go on one of those cliché night walks. That was nice too, until two Empousai came out of the forest and decided to attack you both.

Percy being…. Well Percy, he swiftly got out riptide and didn’t hesitate to defend the two of you. You, on the other hand, were completely caught off guard only just noticing as one of them turned their focus on you while Percy was distracted.

And what did you do like the perfectly trained demigod you were?

You ran like a headless chicken into the forest.

After a few minutes of running, they tackled you into the ground. Trying and failing failed to shove them off, you suddenly remembered the dagger you strapped to your thigh under your dress and stabbed them.

Clearly not your proudest moments.

Finally making it back to the room, you unlocked the door and let out a huff of relief. “Well… that date didn’t go as expected.”

Percy, took in your current state staring at you with wide eyes… but he didn’t say anything. Is he angry at me? Fuck now he’s going to call off whatever this is, all because I’m an incompetent idiot! I knew I should have tried harder in the sparring activities at camp.

Feeling highly intimidated under his intense stare, you began to play with the hem of your dress, voice going quiet. “Look I uh- I know it probably wasn’t the date you were hoping for but I uhm-“

Before you could even finish your poor excuses, your words are soon lost entirely. Percy stalked towards you with a determined look on his face. Reaching you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your face, smashing his lips onto yours.

You let out a small, muffled squeak of surprise as your eyebrows shot up into Olympus. Yet unlike your fighting skills, this was something you managed to adapt to at a faster pace.

Eyes fluttering closed, you fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

Because Gods forbid if this your one chance, you weren’t letting this moment end that easily.  

Moving your lips against his, the urgency he came onto you with slowly began to dissipate, feeling his soft, but slightly chapped lips move against yours. Deepening the kiss, you let go of his shirt, gliding your hands up his tense torso and along his strong arms, eventually placing your hands on his wrists that were on either side of your face. Applying a small amount of pressure to the inside of his wrists with your thumbs, his mind began to drift into a calming haze as you softly stroked them. It was almost as if you were able to brush away the worry that bubbled in him when he got back to the room, only to find you weren’t there. Yet here you were… safe.

It was intoxicating and calming having him so close to you, his entire being overcoming your senses to a point where you fought the urge to let out a small whimper when he pulled away.

Resting his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling heavily flushed against you; he continued to hold you in his warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He whispers, breath fanning against your face.

Because as much as Percy was afraid he’d let you down, he knew no matter what you were worth every single risk.

“…but I’m going to have to teach you a few things when we get back to camp. We can’t have my lover running away in battle all the time, how will I know if you sneeze?”

Letting out a snort, you playfully hit his chest. “Anything for you, lover.”

A soft smile graces his face as he looks at you adoringly as the word takes on a whole new meaning… because you were right. He’d do anything.

A/N: whelp! i hope you all liked it :)) its not perfect but oh well? 

also i dont have a percy jackson taglist but i gotta tag the holy grail of fic writers for this fandon eep @cabinofimagines​   🙈 🙈

Divider credit: @biskit-rising​

[caesthetix]

GREAT DESCENDANT — Pt. 2 Extra Bread

↪Attack on Titan series

↪content; warrior!reader, aged-up character, graphic description of violence, slow burn, season 4 spoiler

"T-Thank you, sir!"

He stuttered out and bowed a little to the soldier who gave him five loaves of bread. Though the older man did not acknowledge his gratitude at all, instead he just sneered at him, making him flinch since he was reminded of the fact that this island filled with demons.

His long feet stride out from the line, wanting to get back to where his friends waited. Today it was his duty to get the food for his companions, and it needed all of his courage to utter how many people in his family were left when the soldier asked him.

Four, it was the right answer that he was supposed to say. But he couldn't help but stutter five instead. It had only been a few weeks after they breached the outer wall, Maria, and yet he still couldn't believe that it was only the four of them now.

Each of them was grieving. Annie would now scowl a lot and buried her face in her hands, not wanting anyone to see the vulnerable look on her face. Reiner was different, he tried to act tough despite the nightmares that often accompanied him in his sleep. While him? He hid his sadness and pain deep inside his heart because he knew that someone suffered more.

You, you didn't talk at all for days as if you were just their shadows. Annie made sure that you were not hurt when he and Reiner crushed the gate. And even though you were not uttering any words, you could do your task ideally without a hitch, and that was to sneak inside with battered clothes, acting like a child who lost everything.

But maybe you were indeed lost everything, that was what he thought when he saw you just staring into spaces without any expression on your face. The bubbly and warm person that he met back then in Marley was nowhere to be found at this point and he hoped that someday he could meet her again.

When his pale green eyes fell to the familiar strands of your hair, he started to run, wanting to give you the bread for today since the sun was up for hours yet no one ate anything just yet. The shelter where all of them were hiding was an abandoned barn just outside the main city, no one knew who the owner of it was, but when Reiner found it empty, they decided to use it as a temporary house.

They just needed to survive for a few years and they could enroll in the military after that. But now they had to make a plan about what they should do in the meantime. Now they were just four orphans who lost everything from wall Maria. A few days ago a soldier gave them a form to fill out, consisting of some questions about names, birth, and the residence they used to live in before.

And that was the first time he heard your voice after weeks wallowing yourself in silence. When Marcel was alive, he told you that you needed to change your last name. Just for a disguise, it was the safest option because who would have expected if someone knew the weight of your name.

"No." You whispered out, one hand scribbling down the paper to write your name. "I am not going to lose my identity. No." There was a lingering pain in your voice that everyone could notice. "I will do anything, Reiner, but not this. This is my last name and I will lose it if someone takes it away from me."

The blonde frowned when he heard your rebellion, you seemed fine when Marcel asked you to do that back then, but now you changed your mind and he wished he knew the words that could sway you. You continued to write down your information without stopping while the boys stared at you with wonder.

Annie knew that you couldn't be forced to do something that you wouldn't do, so she just shrugged it off and focused on her paper, not wanting to spend her time filling forms if she could do it fast. She really thought Reiner would drop it after hearing your statement, but sometimes he just didn't know when to stop.

"Hey, but Marcel would tell you to do the same."

Bertolt could imagine his friend getting beaten up again at this point. But this time not from Annie, instead, he would get it from you who was now gripping so tight on the pencil that he was afraid you would stab the armoured titan inheritor on the neck with it.

"That's the thing, Braun." You gritted your teeth, avoiding yourself for kicking him on the face. And when the poor boy heard you called him by his last name, he knew that he was done for good. "Marcel is not here anymore, and you are not Marcel."

Bertolt made a note on his head that he would never want to get on your bad side. He felt a shiver down his spine at that time when you completely disregarded Reiner, and those words were not even for him. He couldn't imagine what his friend felt, must be hell for sure.

"Hey, I-I got the food for us today." Stopping on his track right in front of you. You were currently cleaning up the dust on the window, he recalled you said that you despised dirty windowpane last night, and he raised his eyebrow since he wondered how you got some clothes to clean it up with.

"Thank you, Bertolt." You gave him a soft smile, and from just that gesture he could feel his cheek burning from — goodness, he didn't even know what he was feeling right now. "Oh? You got five? How?" He was still in a trance when you threw the question, making him baffled for a second there.

"I said that there were five members in my family." He averted his eyes, ashamed to confess that to you. That and the fact he would see the sadness inside your eyes if he did so."I didn't mean to, really, b-but I only realised it after the soldier gave the portion to me."

"Oh, Bertolt." You let out a long sigh and grabbed two pieces of bread from his hand. "You know you could correct yourself after that, right?" He knew that you were scolding him, but with how soft your voice was, he just accepted it, not even once trying to correct himself. "I will give it back to the soldier, okay? You go inside, Reiner and Annie are waiting for you."

"But shouldn't you eat first?" He was concerned for sure, and despite knowing the fact that you could handle this harsh world by yourself, he was not sure if it was the right choice to let you go alone. "I can drop this off to them and I can accompany you, right?"

You chuckled at this, and his pupils widened at that since it was the first time you expressed some kind of joyful gesture since Marcel's incident. Your eyes closed as you chuckled at him, he didn't know what he did to make you like this but his brain short-circuited to even think about it. He just stood there with mouth agape, enjoying the pure, melodious giggle that slipped from your mouth.

"Bertolt," And how much he loved his name rolled down your tongue was uncanny. "It's okay, I will eat mine on the way. And I can handle myself, I am going to be back before you know it! You don't have to be concerned about me." You gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, and his body went rigid at that. "See you later, tell the others where I am going, okay?"

He was too frozen in the spot even when you already strolled down the street with the loaves of bread in your hand. There was no time for him to answer you, and he felt like all the words were stuck in his throat. You just touched him, that was the only thing that he could process right now.

Yes, it was nothing special since you always held Pieck's hand back then or gave a pat to the other warrior candidates (especially Porco, for as long as he remembered even though the boy seemed to dislike your presence and unfazed by it), but to him, feeling your touch like that was everything.

It gave him some kind of boost, maybe it was the warm tingle that he felt whenever you were around or the fact that your existence just screamed comfort — he didn't know exactly what caused him to treasure your touch. What he knew for sure that in the end, he enjoyed your company.

"Oi, Bertolt! Why are you standing there like a statue?!"

"S-Sorry, Reiner—"

〄

The wind caressed your hair as you wandered down the street, turning left and right to the alleyway that would lead you to the plaza. This place had been your home for a few weeks now, and you started to enjoy living here, greeting some people here and there despite how many times Reiner told you not to.

They would ask, of course, where you were from. And you always answered it without hesitation, without a pause, as if the one who talked was an entirely different person with how you always lost all the light in your face when you gave them your answer. They would sympathize, and you took their pity and kept acting it out.

You had a different approach in this mission compared to the other warrior. While they decided to keep a low profile, you were going all out and showed yourself as a victim from the fall of wall Maria. Lots of benefits coming your way with how some adults asked you to move in with them or offering you a job so you could fend for yourself.

Their offers were always so sweet, but you didn't want to leave your friends inside a cold barn with nothing to lay on except the pile of hay. You always ended up cuddling with Annie, not caring that she wanted to kick you on the face at first for not giving her enough space, she ended up liking to sleep in your embrace days after that, so for you, it was all worth it.

Maybe though, their offer about working for them could help you. There were some of them and you sure at least one of the jobs had good earnings. You could buy food for your friends if that was the case, all of you didn't have to rely on free food anymore. And so, you decided that you would go to the adult near the plaza after this, asking if the offer was still up.

"I am sorry! It was already late and there was only one bread left for us!"

Your ears caught the distressed tone that came from the alleyway near you. The plaza was empty now since it seemed like the ration already finished for the day. To know that a lot of people couldn't even have one bread to eat made your stomach churned with guilt and anger for yourself.

"It's alright, Armin. We can share it."

"Yeah, it's not like I eat a lot anyway."

There were three of them, three children that looked like they were the same age as you, and they only got one piece of bread for the whole day. Knowing that the soldier was not there anymore and the commotion already dispersed, you decided to give the bread to them instead.

Your tiny feet waddled toward them, they were currently deep in thought about how to divide the food fairly. And you were thankful that you haven't eaten your fair of bread, so now each of the kids could have one.

"Excuse me," You interrupted their discussion, three pairs of eyes immediately turned to face you. Two of them looked at you with confusion while the other one had her eyes filled with caution. "I am sorry, I heard about your problem before, and I have two extra pieces of bread that you guys could take."

The two boys, one with blonde hair and the other with short dark brown hair — looked at each other without saying anything. It was like they had this kind of bond, talking through their minds before giving each other a nod. Maybe they were debating if it was alright to accept your hospitality or not.

"It's fine, but is this bread really alright for us to take?" The boy with the ocean blue eyes spoke up, taking one step forward to your figure. "What about you then, have you eaten yet today?"

"Yes, it's fine. If not, I am not going to offer it in the first place." You gave him a gentle smile before answering his next question a little bit too quickly to your liking. "Don't worry about me! I already got breakfast before and ate mine. You don't have to think—"

"You are lying." The girl that had been silent the whole time suddenly cut your sentence. "Don't tell me I am wrong because I am sure that I am right." She didn't sugarcoat her words at all, and you couldn't understand anymore if her words mean good or bad. Because surely her onyx orbs looked at you as if you were a threat.

You closed your eyes and exhaled loudly, knowing that you couldn't lie anymore with how sharp the three of them were. But this fact wouldn't stop you from wanting them to take your fair.

"Well, yes, I haven't eaten." Surrendering yourself to honesty, you continued. "But I am going to be fine, an adult in this shop near the plaza offered me a job and food, so I could get it from them after this." You explained truthfully, handing them the bread thereafter.

"Then how come you had extra bread in the first place?" The short-haired boy now squinting his eyes, wanting to understand your hidden motive in case there were any. "You had one for yourself too despite knowing that you could get food from this adult you told us about. So why should we trust you?"

"Eren!"

Ah, so the boy's name is Eren. You thought, couldn't believe that someone would even doubt the others for giving free food. But then again, you couldn't blame them for being extra cautious. No one knew what could happen inside these walls. The worst-case scenario from this was that you poisoned them to get rid of another life to prevent any more hunger.

"You don't have to trust me, of course." You answered him with a soft and calm tone, something that you learned from your house back in Marley. That even when someone raised their voice at you, you needed to handle them with care. "My friend was the one who got the food from me, and he didn't check that he got extra food, so I am here with the first mission to give it back to the garrison soldier."

You gave them the answer that they want, both hands still pushed forward, waiting for them to take it. "Promise I wouldn't disturb you anymore, I just want to make sure you guys get enough food. That's all."

There was a long silence engulfing the four of you. That was until the blonde took the bread out of your hand and gave you a smile of gratitude, which you answered with the same gesture as him. The other two were now looking at you with a softened gaze, finally stripping away their caution towards you.

"I am sorry that I sounded rude before." The brunette started, giving you a cheeky smile as his ears tinted with a pinkish hue. "I just need to be careful around strangers, everything just messed up at this time, you know?" He chuckled bitterly, his eyes darkening as if a terrible memory fleeting through his mind for a second.

"It's fine. I know where that thought is coming from." You kicked the pebbles near your foot before, making it bounce to the wall as you looked down. "Everything is just a nightmare after the breach." And you tried so hard not to break down, not in front of anyone, especially those who were the victim of your action. "All of you — didn't deserve any of it."

Your voice that was so warm and comforting before now turned into a completely different tone. There was sadness, at least that was what they could hear from you. They couldn't see the expression in your eyes since you persisted in looking down at your feet, avoiding their gaze at all cost.

"And you didn't deserve it too."

The blonde, that if you recalled from before was called Armin, telling you words that you thought you wouldn't need to hear. "No one wanted this to happen, no one deserved to live like this." He continued, and you were ready to crumble even more. "But this is our life, for now, so we can't do anything else but move on."

You wanted to get down on your knees, hugging his legs as you begged for forgiveness. Just like what you saw in some of the memories from your ancestors, there were just normal human beings inside these walls. Just like in Marley, just like on the other continent, there were good and bad people, and nothing differentiated them except the fact that they had a titan's blood flowing inside their veins.

Nothing else but that — and the dangerous truth that lies within the walls.

"It's called rumbling, right?"

Just one month from now, you were going to inherit the war hammer titan, and you have been studying a lot, reading the journal that your ancestor wrote. The book was so helpful, preparing you to know the truth that this world had to hide. Sometimes your twelve years old brain could not even understand it.

The past few years you had been training hard privately. You got the best instructor, honing your mental and physical build at the same time. But since you reached the age of ten, your father introduced you to Commander Magath who was in charge of the Warrior Unit, the unit for those titan inheritors.

And you trained with them ever since then. Creating a bond and friendship to those who would fight alongside you in the upcoming battle. The majority of them were easy to talk with like Marcel, Pieck, Zeke, Reiner, and Bertolt. While the rest — not so much.

Annie was fine though, she still talked to you here and there and taught you about some certain techniques of hand-to-hand combat that you deemed remarkably useful. Porco on the other hand, you wanted to grimace at the interaction that you had with him. Yet despite all that, you couldn't stop yourself from smiling for just thinking about him.

But this moment was not the right time to reminisce about the warrior training, not when a few months from now, you would embark on a mission to reclaim the founding titan.

"Yes, when the founding titan decided to unharden the walls and released millions of colossal titan, it was called rumbling." Your father sat across from where you were, filling out papers from the military about you. "If that happened, the whole world would turn into nothing."

You gave a nod of acknowledgement, fingers tracing the ink that seeped on the worn-out paper journal.

"So it was risky to let the founding titan stay in Paradis since no one knew if someday they would activate the rumbling or not." You stated the sentence as a matter of factly, absorbing the information that sometimes made your head pound. "It was risky since they closed themselves inside those walls and no one knew what happened there."

"Yes, my dear." His voice cracked like any other time, having so much burden for throwing you to the frontline of the battle like that. You, his little star, his precious daughter that he never wanted to turn her into a war machine that could only live for thirteen years. "That is why you need to prevent it from happening."

But it was something that needed to be done — and there was nothing that you could do except embracing the cruel truth like an old friend.

"Yes, you are right." Fixing your composure, you were back to the kind girl from before. "Thank you for telling me that, I think I need it." You chuckled softly, fingers tucking the strands of your hair behind the ear. "I-I will go now, then. Hope all of you survive and continue on living!"

Bowing yourself a little before departing (a trait that you couldn't shake off that easily), you waved at them and turned your heels, walking away from the three children that you really hoped would have a beautiful life ahead, for as long as they could have.

"Wait!" But you halted your feet to move forward when you heard Eren's voice calling out for you.

"Yes? What is it?" You were still not that far from them, so you decided to use your normal volume as if they were still right in front of you.

"We haven't got your name!" Yet despite how calm you were, the boy seemed to choose to shout at you anyway. "I am Eren! This is Armin and Mikasa, they are everything that I had left! Now, what's yours?!"

Hearing how excited he was made you giggle, such a complete opposite for real compared to him a few minutes ago when he looked at you with caution. Now he became the child he was supposed to be, with a wide grin on his face as he just wanted to know the name of his probably new friend.

And so you indulged him with it, answering his question with a clear and solid tone.

"It's (Y/n)!" You decided to shout back, equaling his enthusiasm. "(Y/n), (Y/n) Tybur!"

Paradis Citizen(s)

↪@yumaryko ​@may-machin @cuteissei

↪Back to Great Descendant Masterlist OR Wall Maria

↪Send an ask if you want to be a citizen of Paradis (taglist)!

[lovelystay]

𝑀𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 - 𝐽𝑖𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔🍒 💣1/2

(𝑅𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡)

[Rᴇsᴜᴍᴇ : Jisung is obsessed with you so he asked his parents to arrange a wedding . Your family, on the other hand, is pretty poor so they immediately agree. You don’t like it but can't do something to stop them... there will be some smut but little fluff at the end.]

~Pᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ɴᴏɴ ᴄᴏɴ sᴍᴜᴛ~

Jisung finds everything about you perfect , from your head until your toes , inside like outside , you were the most perfect human he had ever seen . He believed you were his soulmate , lovely and kind with him when even his own « friends » found him weird . You acted this way around him because the little boy was very adorable and cute , but mostly by pity ...

Nobody stayed around him a lot and it looked like you were the only person he would smile and be happy with .

And it was true , Han liked you a lot , you actually think he have a crush on you , he treated you like you were his girlfriend . You weren’t against it though , he offered you a lot of stuff , and your family wasn’t really wealthy , so it was win win for both of you . He gets to be with his « crush » and you get to not pay for food and stuffs and worry about money .

But for jisung , all of this will lead to something else much important , he wasn’t buying you things and treating you like a princess for you to leave him a week later . In facts , he wanted to make you his , completely. To marry you basically. The cute boy was always spying on you by some way, because you were the only person he cared of , and you actually cared of him too . So why not , right ?

He was getting sick every time he had to leave you , jisung always wanted to be by your side , to see you . He thought that secretly taking pictures of you and stay the whole night watching them would make him feel better , but no , he wants to feel you , to hug you .

Being away from you would now bring him into a sudden episode of depression, he won’t have the strength to do anything and can’t smile at all . Seeing you became vital for him .

So he went and had a discussion with his parents . They were worried for him , every time they saw him , he looked sad , hurt and won’t talk at all . They could do anything to bring a smile on their only child’s face again .

So , as soon as jisung entered the big room his mom ran to him . « Hello jisung ~ are you okay ? Do you need anything sweetheart? » she asks in a rush , desesparated to make him happy and figure out what’s wrong .

« Actually , yes . Yes I need something » Han answers . « Can you bring dad , I need to talk to the two of you » he continued .

Han’s mother go upstairs , running to find her husband . She comes back with him still in a rush , dragging him by the arm .

Jisung sits down on the long and expensive couch , he invites his parents to do the same in front of him and starts to talk , «  Mom and dad , I’ve found someone I really love » he ignores his parents surprise and big eyes and continue « I always miss her and I’m sad whenever I don’t see her . You’ve noticed too right ? »

« Yes we’ve did , everything was just because of a girl ? » his dad answers and asks .

« It’s not just a girl , I really feel empty without her , I want her to be mine... »

« We understand , but , why would you say that to us instead of asking her to be your girlfriend ? » han’s mother asks confused .

« I’m going straight to the point , I want to marry her , I want her to be my wife »

« Jisung ! She’s not even your girlfriend ! We do not even know her name... »

« Y/n , y/l/n y/n , do you accept and support it or not ? »

« Jisung , you can’t just do that »

After a long debate going on between Han jisung and his parents , they finally accept . They’ve thought of it , and , it was the only thing that could make him happy . And they were rich anyway , a wedding wouldn’t be annoying financially. Jisung gave his dad your parents number , because , of course he have those basic information, to let them call your parents and convince them .

His dad promised them money and wealth if they would let you marry their son Han jisung . Your parents thought about the offer a lot after the call , they had a debate concerning the wedding . But there wasn’t many negative point . They weren’t going to pay anything and are going to get out of the poverty they were in for years .

Your parents said it was good for you as well , so they called back and accepted.

It was now late and you came back from school , you were exhausted and tired . With the small energy you have left , you run to your room to do what you waited for all day , sleep . But as soon as you jump on your bed to get some rest , you hear the sudden voice of your mom which prevented you from doing so .

« Come down y/n , we need to tell you something ... »

You let out a long sigh , you were sensitive right now and didn’t want to talk to anyone . But it seemed to be important so you join your mom in the living room . Your mom and dad were looking strangely nervous , your mom was playing with her fingers and rings and your dad couldn’t even make an eye contact with you .

« i can’t understand what’s going on but can you please be quick , I’m very tired »

Your dad’s breath was shaky and he sighed like he was preparing to tell you something big and important , which made your heart beat a little faster and awoken you a bit . Instead of your tired eyes they had now your entire attention. They’ve never been so weird around you .

« You know we are pretty poor right ? »

You bob your head up and down agreeing with him .

« Wouldn’t it be great if we would be less poor ? Or even rich ? »

You giggle a bit and say « of course it would be great , nobody would disagree with that »

Your mom smile gently and asks « do you know Han jisung ? You like him right ? »

You were surprised and didn’t understand where they’re point and all of those question were supposed to lead .

« Continue » you didn’t want to respond to that question , you just wanted to know what your parents wanted to say .

« He said he liked you a lot , he wants to ... » your dad say hesitantly.

« To marry you » your mom finish .

« Well I’ll just tell him no , what the hell does that have to do with all of us ? »

« Listen , their parents said he is really sad when he’s away from you , his parents hated to see him like that and they promised us a lot of money if you’d marry him »

Your dad finally confess. You felt horribly disappointed and betrayed by your own family .

« So you said yes to them ?! Did you two even thought of how I feel ? If I like him ?! You don’t even know if he’s a perv or a bad person but you just agreed to literally sell your only daughter’s happiness for money ?! Seriously ? »

« Calm down y/n , it’s even beneficial for you , you’ll finally be rich and live like the princess you deserve to be , Han jisung is pretty handsome too , I don’t understand why you’re so mad » your mom dare to say.

« If I want money I’ll gain it myself , I don’t need a fucking weird rich boy like him to live happily »

You rushed into your room to cry , you hated to show your « weakness » and cry in front of your parents . You try to be quiet and ruin your pillow to muffle your cry in it .

•*•*•*•*•

The wedding is in 3 days , you are still against it , your parents are still for it .

Jisung’s parents prepared everything , you had nothing else to do but wait . They didn’t even have you the location or the instructions, they told you that a private driver was going to get you . The only time you’ll see jisung it at the actual wedding . You would try and run away before the d-day but your parents would never let you . Now you only see them as the worst person in the world , you never want to see them again , you didn’t care how poor you and your family was , how can you sell your daughter for money and force her to marry a random guy you don’t even know .

You were cleaning your room and complaining about your fate when you receive a message from jisung . You open and read them .

Han jisung

[ hi y/n ]

[did they send you the dress ? ❤️ ]

You close your phone and throw it on your bed , yes they did send the dress but you absolutely didn’t want to talk to him , everything started because of him and his obsession for you . Now your family is breaking and you’ll have to be with him for the rest of your life . You start crying again , the feeling that you can’t do anything to stop it made you angry and stressed out .

•*•*•*•*•

During those three days before the disaster , you were alive but dead at the same time . You hated your parents and wanted to make them feel bad about they’re decision by just locking yourself in your room . You know it would hurt them and you did it on purpose , you only ate two meals during those three days . You didn’t want to marry jisung but you’re forced . How could you feel happy or joyful about this .

Your mom dragged you to the expensive looking car , you were going to get prepared for the wedding . When you got there you were amazed , it is so beautiful , it felt forbidden for a poor girl like you to even be able to see such a pretty and luxury looking place . The people working looked like they already knew who you were , they were waiting for you . Many people came and after the greetings they rapidly set themselves to work . Many person were taking care of you at the same time , you felt special but uncomfortable . They helped you put on your dress and heels , made your hair , did your make up , gave you snacks , did your nails etc ...

Everything seemed to be ready and you got back to the car where the driver was waiting . You wanted to cry but held the tears in not wanting to ruin the amazing make up they did on your face . After arriving at the town hall you saw a lot of people you didn’t even recognize that were waiting for you. You were walking and walking with a bouquet of flowers in your hands . The stress made you hold them really tight you thought you were going to break them . Jisung was right in front of you , you could see in his eyes that he loved the way you looked . Everything went good until the moment arrived where you needed to say yes to jisung . You wanted to say no , but you were too scared of the consequences and the silence started to get awkward . You said yes , he kissed you , you didn’t kiss him back , and everyone clapped . The discomfort obvious on your face and the love obvious in jisung’s eyes . After the party that was thrown you didn’t saw you’re parents anymore . They’ve already packed your stuff and send them to han’s parents . Talking about them , they’ve rented a big house for you and jisung , they wanted for you two to get to know each other better . Maybe they should’ve made us do that before getting us married ...

You took off everything , showered and put on your pyjamas . During the wedding and even after , jisung was trying to talk to you , laugh with you , he was clingy . But you ignored him the whole time . So since the beginning of the wedding and a little before you did not have a proper conversation with someone who is now your spouse .

« Y/n » said jisung entering your room .

« Let’s talk »

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 14

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

word count: 5.7k

warnings: mild violence, foul language, dark themes and mental health.

description: Han Jisung’s overheard confession sends the precinct -- and the rest of Miroh Heights -- into chaos, forcing law enforcement, police, and citizens alike to choose sides. While he’s locked up, though -- making the acquaintance of a strangely familiar inmate along the way -- Jisung remains unaware of just what lengths some of the people around him are willing to go to in order to save his life. 

watch the trailer here!

14| monsters and men.

The interrogation room held a chill that seeped deep into Jisung’s bones. 

Across from him, the woman — prosecutor — that had been questioning him tapped her fingers on the table’s cold steel surface, her thinning lips the only indication of her growing impatience. They had been sitting for over an hour now — granted, there was no clock on the room’s bare walls, so Jisung could only guess — and he hadn’t spoken a single word.

“Staying silent isn’t going to help your case, you know,” the woman reminded him for what seemed like the thousandth time. She had curling brown hair and tired eyes — it seemed to Jisung like a recurring trait amongst law enforcement workers — and a thin line of a mouth. 

She had been nice enough, reading him his rights and asking questions calmly, but Jisung just couldn’t will his lips to move. He’d been absently studying the handcuffs clasped tight around his wrists with his head bowed. Kang had grudgingly called in a physician to perform first aid on the numerous cuts on his body — including the shallow stab wound above his hip the blonde man had inflicted — and after spending hours in the cold interrogation rooms the sharp aches of pain had eventually grown numb. Every word they spoke to him sounded as if it were in another language, bouncing off before they reached his ears, as if Jisung was enclosed in a muddled, soundproof bubble.

They had brought in a psychologist, too, after he’d stayed silent for an hour — a stout man with watery blue eyes whose tone was too warm for Jisung’s liking. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling?” 

“Can you tell me what’s going on in your head right now?” 

“I’m here to help you, kiddo — cooperate with me a bit.”

But another hour dragged by, and so the prosecutor had returned. 

Jisung’s mind kept wandering — to the sickly warm feeling of blood, your blood pooling onto his shaking hands, your blood drained face on the hospital cot, Chan’s feverish eyes as he’d held onto Jisung’s slack shoulders with a fatherlike sort of firmness.

Just as the woman let out a sigh of defeat, the metal door behind Jisung swung open with a screech. Behind his golden spectacles, Prosecutor Kang’s beady eyes darted from Jisung’s empty expression to the woman’s tired one and scowled. 

“He’s still refusing to talk?”

The woman nodded. Jisung felt the weight of their stares boring into his head. Kang jerked his head towards the door and the woman stood to leave as the older prosecutor took her place across the table. 

“You’re holding out longer than I thought.” When Jisung didn’t react, Kang continued with a smirk, “Though I suppose I would expect nothing less from a cold-blooded killer.”

Killer. The note of truth in the word stabbed through Jisung’s gut like a switchblade.

“Well, boy, you’re sly, I’ll give you that —” Kang narrowed his eyes, “But I’m warning you now, we’ve already gathered enough incriminating evidence. DNA from the crime scenes, CCTV footage — you’re only a couple of lab tests away from a guilty conviction, Han Jisung.”

He was lying, Jisung knew he was — lying to get him to panic and talk. Minho had long since erased all fingerprints and disposed of all evidence, after all. Jisung had watched him do it with his own eyes. 

Scowling at Jisung’s silence, Kang stood suddenly and slammed his hands onto the metal table, sending the pad and pen skittering. He leaned in closer, his voice a rancid whisper. “Talk or not, you’re not going to be leaving police custody anytime soon. I’ve seen cases like yours. You look all—innocent—on the outside—” Kang’s eyes were almost pitying, his tone condescending— “But deep down, inside? You’re fucked up to the core, and you know it, too. You know you’re a defect of society — so why are you trying so hard to pretend that you’re normal?”

Jisung didn’t realise how tightly he had been gritting his jaw until it began to ache, his clenched fists shaking white. It was like Kang was pulling every fear Jisung had ever had out of the dark crevices of his mind, forcing them beneath the harsh, burning light.

“No matter.” Kang drew back, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll crack sooner or later—just like you always do, eh?” He took off his spectacles, wiping them with a cloth from his breast pocket without taking his eyes off of Jisung. “Like yesterday morning, no? Two men dead and three comatose. Not to mention the poor girl hanging onto her life by a thread as we speak—”

At this, Jisung’s eyes flickered upwards for the first time since they had detained him. The light above him was bright and seared at his retinas, but all he could focus on was Kang’s jeering face. The older prosecutor raised his eyebrows, a flash of triumph rippling across his features.

“You haven’t heard? Or did you simply not care? An innocent young woman, and a switchblade to her heart—” Kang clicked his tongue. “The surgery isn’t going well, I heard. She’ll be lucky if she’s able to stay in critical condit—”

Jisung stood up so quickly his handcuffs banged onto the corner of the table and sent a bruising pain through his wrists. He whirled towards the door, already mapping out the shortest route from the precinct to the hospital—but Kang was onto him, rough hands seizing him by the back of his shirt and pinning him painfully against the desk with an echoing bang. He could feel the stab wound reopen beneath the bandages, a shock of fresh pain in the numbingly cold room.

“—go,” Jisung gasped out, his cheekbone crushing against the smooth steel. “Let me — need to see her, make s-sure she’s okay—let me—”

Kang’s disbelieving bark of laughter sent chills down Jisung’s spine. Jisung knew he could overpower him if he tried—but what about the officers standing guard outside, the dozens patrolling the precinct? The thought of the life fading from your eyes was enough to make him want to throw up.

“No need to pretend you care, Mr. Han—save that energy for the rest of the trial, yes?” At that, Jisung heard the metal door screech open again, and two officers’ hands replaced Kang’s on either side of his shoulders. 

The older prosecutor dusted off his hands, then fixed Jisung with a satisfied look. “You’ll be kept under custody until enough evidence has been gathered and processed to begin the trial.”

“Can I—see her? Please, you can—trail me, you can do whatever you want with me, I just—one moment—”

Kang cut him off. “You gave us nothing for nearly five hours. Even if you had, you have places to be, Mr. Han—the state prison, to be exact.” Seeing the confusion flash across Jisung’s whitened face, he continued with a savage glint in his beady eyes. “You’ll be a temporary inmate until you’re called for trial.” He glanced at his watch, then nodded at the officers, who began escorting Jisung from the room. 

Behind him, Kang called slyly, “You’ll be cohabitating with the worst of the worst—or shall I say, your own type?” He could hear the smile in the prosecutor’s voice. “We’ll see how long you last.”

━━━━━━━━

The bus ride to the prison was strangely peaceful.

Jisung caught a glimpse of the clock before he took a seat at the back. 12:00. Dead midnight. The streets were cleared, and there were nearly no cars on the road—the aftereffects of the lockdown had likely sent the citizens in a state of paranoia. Because of me, Jisung thought numbly. Because of the Mass-Murderer of Miroh Heights. Besides two accompanying officers and the driver, the shuttle was empty. 

No other inmates. Jisung was alone.

He had never really gotten used to the loneliness, though it had followed him his entire life. Each time it came back, it seemed more suffocating than the last. A voice in the back of his head told him that maybe this was how it was supposed to be. That maybe, for someone like him, he deserved nothing more.

The overwhelming feeling of emptiness began to numb his chest. Eventually the rocking motion of the bus pulled him into a cold wash of dreamless sleep. The last image he saw behind his drooping eyelids was your face.

━━━━━━━━

Jisung was woken two hours later, and they spent the early hours of the morning taking pictures and recording his information before he was given a change of clothes and finally escorted to a cell. Other inmates were waking up, some taking walks, but none spared him a second glance. They were all wearing the same stiff uniforms, with a number stamped on their breast pockets. Jisung almost laughed—for once, nobody cared who he was, who he might be. For once, he had nothing to hide.

The air smelled of dust and salt, and the inside of his mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. The prison guard motioned towards the last cell in the corridor, and Jisung stepped inside, watching the light in the room disappear as the heavy doors slammed shut behind him. As his eyes adjusted under what little patchy sunlight the barred windows let in, he realised with a start that there was another man in the cell.

“You planning to stand there for the rest of your sentence?” His voice took Jisung by surprise — it was mild, nonchalant — no hint of threats, hostility, or ulterior motives. Compared to the last forty-eight hours, it was like a breath of fresh air.

Jisung looked around the cell, not quite sure where he was supposed to go. The man chuckled and gestured across from him, and so Jisung awkwardly took a seat on the floor in front of him. The man was contemplating him with slightly raised eyebrows, and Jisung was beginning to get the feeling that somewhere, somehow, he’d seen his face before. His eyes had a familiar crescent lilt, and the corner of his lips were wide and upturned, making him look as though he were always smiling—fox-like features, but with none of the slyness. He was middle-aged, his thinning hair streaked with gray.

“You look like you could use a nap, son,” the man finally remarked, and Jisung subconsciously rubbed at his eyes. Son. Why did the word sound so strange to his ears? “What’s a kid like you doing in a place for monsters?”

Monsters. The old man certainly didn’t look like one. He looked like he could be someone’s uncle, professor, or father. He had said it lightly, almost as if he didn’t take it seriously, but the word still made Jisung’s heart sink. “Are you...a monster?” He finally asked, and the man laughed, but there was a sad edge to his voice.

“Well. That’s what they called me, ten years ago. You can make of that what you want, eh?”

Ten years ago. What had he done to earn such a long sentence? There was a brief silence, before Jisung felt compelled to speak again. It was as if the hours of silence had finally taken a toll on him now, and his tongue was beginning to burn with words and questions. “You don’t look like…”

“A monster?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Neither do you, son. But we’re both in here for a reason, no?”

“What’s yours?” Jisung was surprised at his own boldness — the man could turn on him any moment, after all. But he realised that he was already far beyond the point of caring whether or not he got hurt.

The man studied him for a long moment, and seemed to make a silent decision before finally speaking. “I...killed a man. I killed a man who had hurt someone dear to me.” He let out a deep sigh, and Jisung watched his face cloud over with memory. “A few said it was justified, but the prosecutor in charge was a stubborn one. Headstrong. The world of law is a cold one—killers are convicted without pardons, and murder is murder regardless of the circumstances.”    

Jisung swallowed a painful lump in his throat, but his voice still came out sounding like he was being choked. “I killed people who...hurt someone I loved, too,” he murmured quietly. For a moment, he thought the old man hadn’t heard—his voice was nearly inaudible—but when Jisung lifted his gaze, he saw that the man was listening intently, warm brown eyes focused on his face. “B-but in the end, I...hurt the person I loved the most. Because I couldn’t...stop.”

The man sighed. “I know.” 

This took him by surprise. Confused, Jisung followed his gaze to the corner of the cell, where there sat a stack of newspapers. The one on the very top had bold headlines that screamed, MASS ASSAULT AT LOCAL DINER. TWO DEAD, FOUR IN CRITICAL CONDITION. Just the black-and-white picture of Mia’s Diner on the cover sent a twist of nausea through his gut. “I’ve been following the case—the Miroh Heights Murders. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Jisung could only nod, exhaling shakily. “Unlike you, I...I deserve what they call me.”

They were silent for another couple of minutes, the man contemplating Jisung with that same, strangely familiar look in his eyes, and Jisung avoiding his gaze and staring at the dusty ground. He was already filled to the brim with self-loathing. The last thing Jisung needed was a convicted criminal looking at him in disgust, too—he didn’t think he would be able to take it. 

Instead, the man simply said thoughtfully, “They can—and trust me, they always will—call you what they want. Whether or not you choose to believe it, though, that’s up to you. You know what I learned, son?” Jisung finally lifted his head to meet the man’s gaze, hesitant but curious. “The more you accept those words and let them explain your past, your actions — the longer you let their voices replace your own…the more those words end up becoming your truth. You know yourself better than they do.”

Jisung looked down bitterly. Did he? “You can’t — make those excuses for me. I’ve killed people, I’m a killer, I’m a monster—”

“Are you the monster they claim you’ve always been?” The old man interrupted gently. “Or are you forcing yourself into the mold of the monster they’re making you out to be?”

Jisung was silent. The sun had changed positions while they were talking, the glare in the cell softening into a golden glow. “Why are you telling me this?” 

The man sighed, stretching. “I’ll be honest, I’m not too sure, myself. I haven’t talked this much in a while. I’ll say, though, boy, I’ve seen my fair share of monsters—been in here for ten years, and I’ll be in here for the rest of my life. You’re not one of ‘em. As a matter of fact, you remind me of...myself.”

Jisung looked over at the newspapers again. “Why were you following the case?”

“You need to find a hobby to keep yourself sane in here,” the old man scoffed. “I would usually say it’s out of boredom, but...not this time. I have a son,” he finally confessed, a softer note in his voice. He tilted his head, studying Jisung’s features thoughtfully. “He’s a few years younger than you. Just got into university, I heard. Miroh Heights. I worry...about how he’s doing.”

Jisung nodded, a sour taste in his mouth. Imagine living with the serial killer from your son’s campus. Suddenly, the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a guard. “Mealtime,” was all he said, and the old man stood.

Before they were escorted out, Jisung asked one last question. “What’s your— what should I call you?”

The old man thought for a moment, then smiled. “People in the town used to call me Old Yang.” He shrugged, a wistful look in his eyes. “Yang is fine.”

━━━━━━━━

Prosecutor Kang was in the middle of lighting a cigarette when Seungmin stepped outside the District 9 Precinct. The interrogations had just ended, and Seungmin had been told to stay behind and drive a couple of his higher-ups back to the law firm. Judging from the sour look on Kang’s already taut features, the questioning hadn’t gone well.

“Kim Seungmin,” Kang called by way of greeting, and Seungmin gave a curt nod. “As you may have heard, the serial killer — ah, the Han Jisung case, I should say—has been transferred to me.” When Seungmin forced himself to stay silent, Kang glanced over and gave him a clap on the back. “Now, now—don’t feel too ashamed, Kim. Everyone makes rookie mistakes. They may have assigned the wrong case to you, but rest assured — it’s in proper hands now.” 

“Is it?” Seungmin couldn’t help blurting, and instantly regretted it. Kang’s face darkened, and the older prosecutor turned to face Seungmin head on.

“Have something to say to me, Kim?”

Too much, Seungmin thought, except he could never get the proper words out of his mouth. They would bubble and foam on the tip of his tongue before his own anxiety and apprehension would push them back down hastily. “I’ve just — never understood the way you handled cases, sir.”

“Seungmin.” Kang took a short drag of his cigarette, then took a step closer. Seungmin could smell the bitter tobacco, mixed with mint, on his breath. “Allow me to share a word of advice. They won’t teach you this in law school.”

He took another drag, then continued. “Your job as a prosecutor is not to judge the defendant fairly.” When Seungmin opened his mouth in indignant protest, Kang cut him off. “If you want a smooth career...all you need to do is make sure you’re appealing to the right people. In other words, listen to what the public wants.” Kang jerked his chin; a couple of blocks down the street, the familiar flashing of police cruiser lights were illuminating Mia’s Diner. “Please the public; don’t waste a single damn about the defendant. You spent all your precious time worrying your little head over the killer’s motives, and now that we finally have him, you’re still worrying over the severity of his sentence. Murder is murder, Kim Seungmin, and actions speak louder than motives. You can show lenience towards a mass-murderer, or you can sweep his sorry past under the rug and bring closure to dozens of families. Which would make you a richer, more popular man?”

Seungmin grit his teeth, a sour taste flooding his mouth. “Is that how you got to where you are?” Everyone knew Kang was one of the most affluent prosecutors in the firm — no, in the entire city.

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

Kang flicked his cigarette, not catching the way Seungmin was shaking with anger. “You think you’re being kind? Justice isn’t meant to be kind, Kim.” He shrugged. “Make up the easiest case to solve and do everyone a favour.”

Just then, the precinct’s glass doors slid open and a couple of prosecutors stepped out. Kang waved them over into one of the parked cars, Seungmin in the driver’s seat, and they sped off, leaving the parking lot eerily empty.

Yang Jeongin stepped out from the corner where he had been standing, concealed in the shadows, the confused nurse he had guilted into letting him “take a quick walk” trailing by his side.

“We best be going, sweetheart,” the old woman said worriedly, eyes darting nervously between Jeongin and the IV drip still connected to his arm. “Fresh air is good, but it’s best you don’t overexert yourself this soon.”

Jeongin nodded absently, and let her guide him back to the hospital while clutching his arm. He felt stronger, but his head was beginning to pound again. 

He glanced down at his other hand, where he had been holding out the voice recorder, and pressed END RECORDING.

━━━━━━━━

“Hey, chin up, kiddo. Look at me.”

Even though Bang Chan was sitting on the other side of the plexiglass, Jisung couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s eyes. He heard the detective sigh.

“When the trial starts. Plead not guilty, you hear? I know what you’re thinking, but if you plead guilty, that Kang bastard is going to eat you alive.” 

“I can’t.”

“Jisung—”

“I can’t, Chan. I’m not innocent. Shit, I — I can’t even remember half the murders they’re accusing me of, but I know my hands are bloody.”

“If you can’t remember, that factors into the investigation. A mental impairment, a handicap--” Chan was in detective mode, hands gesturing wildly as if he were moving his thoughts and theories through the air. “We need to find out why.”

“Woojin visited before you,” Jisung said in a dead tone. The police captain had been the most distressed Jisung had ever seen him, pacing the room with a locked jaw. It seemed to be a habit of his.

“Han Jisung, I’ve seen numerous murder cases before. This isn’t...right. Your sentence shouldn’t be as heavy as Kang’s making it out to be, but he’s removed both Chan and I from the investigation. We couldn’t gather more counter-evidence if we tried…” the captain looked up at him, his dark eyes troubled. “Unless you give it to us.”

The detective fell silent as Jisung repeated Woojin’s words. The younger boy’s voice was shaking with so much raw, unconcealed emotion Chan felt his own two hands clench into shaking fists. “And I won’t. So please, Chan—and tell this to Woojin, too—don’t throw away your reputations to save me. I...don’t deserve it.”

At this, Chan stood up abruptly, slamming his hands on the desk so hard the Plexiglass screen between them shook violently. “To hell with reputation. I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you it all over again: Jisung, you don’t deserve the death penalty.” 

Jisung got to his feet, too, staring his older friend down with shaking pupils. “I don’t want to hurt anything — anyone — for as long as I live. Never really have, although I can’t exactly tell them that, can I? It needs to stop. This—I—need to stop. This needs to end — and if a death penalty is the only way to do it, I’ll take it.”

Chan raked a hand through his unruly blond hair. “Take a lawyer at least, ‘sung, haven’t they told you you have the rights to one? Hell — do it for y/n. She needs you. She needs you to stay alive.”

At this, Jisung swallowed a painful laugh. “I think I’ve learned better than anyone that in order for her to live, I need to stay out of her life. For good. She is the reason why I need to do this, Chan.”

Before Chan could respond, the timer buzzed and the door clicked open, and Jisung was dragged out of the distressed detective’s sight again.

━━━━━━━━

Fire.

That was the first thought that flashed in your head, the first word accompanied by a twinge of searing pain that pulled you ever so slightly out of the murky darkness. You were burning up, an inferno that sapped all the energy from your veins and made you want to curl up and lose what little consciousness you had just regained.

There were tiny pinpricks of light poking through your vision now, and the fire was beginning to concentrate on one area in your chest. Your lungs were aching, trying to steal back the air that the fire was consuming and as your mouth pried itself open to catch your breath your eyes shot open and you were thrust into a world of blurry white and muffled sounds.

Blinking groggily, you began to register your surroundings — a familiar white, speckled ceiling, the rhythmic beeping of a heart machine. A pinch of wires attached to needles biting into your arm. And the awfully sore, burning throbbing underneath your left collarbone.

A nurse that had been replacing the IV fluid nearly dropped the sack when she saw your open eyes. “Sweetheart? Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can hear me.”

You blinked rapidly, and she gave a sigh of relief. “I’ll call the doctor, you sit tight, alright?”

She returned with an older woman who spoke so quickly you could barely catch her words. You were lucky they didn’t have to undergo open-heart surgery—the wound was deep, but missed a major artery in your heart by a thread. Instead, you had a punctured lung they had resected, which explained the burning ache in your left side. And you had been unconscious for nearly three weeks.

You had been unconscious for nearly— 

“Three weeks?” You sat up suddenly and the nurse’s eyes bulged at your abrupt movement.

“You’d best not move too much if you don’t want to be unconscious for more,” she scolded. “You poor thing. Don’t you worry, though, sweetheart—that monster who attacked you’s supposed to stand trial soon. He’ll be paying for his sins in no time.” 

Her words only hit you after a beat of silence.

Stand trial.

Pay for his sins.

Han Jisung.

The memories came back in a violent flood—you had been woken by an echoing crash from the living room and gone back to sleep briefly. By the time you had thought to go and check, Jisung had been long gone. After a chase down dead ends under a growing thunderstorm, you had followed the muffled sounds of pain and fighting all the way back to the back lot of Mia’s Diner, where the only boy you had ever loved had been kneeling like an avenging angel over five unmoving bodies.

You had called out his name like a shout into the void.

And when he finally heard you, there had been a flash of pain that sent you doubling over. You remembered the switchblade sticking out from your ribs, how it had felt like your body was no longer your own. And you remembered the last thing you had seen before you had slipped unconscious—Jisung’s horrified, tear-filled eyes.

You had wanted to say something to him then, but the words hadn’t made it past your lips. They had echoed in your head when you slipped away, and they came back to you now.

Don’t blame yourself.

Because it was me who chose to stay. To listen. To fall in love with you — each and every part of you, Han Jisung.

And somehow, I don’t regret a single choice I made.

Your fingers absently trailed to your side, where a thick layer of bandages rose beneath the hospital’s scrubs, and found your mind wandering to a memory of Felix and Hyunjin. It hadn’t been too long ago — a couple of semesters after the three of you had first met as freshmen.

“Complexes?” Felix had repeated, and you nodded.

“It was the topic for my psych lecture today. It’s a core part of your subconscious — shaped by perceptions, emotions, and memories. It can be a fear, or a belief, but it usually has a theme of some sort, and like all subconscious influences it affects the way that people act. You know, like an inferiority complex, or an Oedipus complex.”

Hyunjin snorted. “Felix definitely has an Oedipus complex. I’ve seen him call his crushes “mommy” one too many times.”

Felix smacked the taller boy, mouth falling open in protest. “It was a joke, bro!”

The barista had rolled his eyes, pulling a new bag of coffee beans from the shelf. “Jokes always stem from truth, my friend. Anyways, if we’re talking about complexes, you can’t deny that y/n has a hero complex.” 

Felix had nodded rapidly at this, and you had raised an eyebrow. “Not that you want to be a hero or anything, but it’s like, you kinda want to save everyone, all the time. You can’t stand to see anyone suffering. I’ve never seen anyone more fitting — or less fitting, depends on how you look at it — to be a therapist.”

Hyunjin had made an amused sound of agreement before you could argue. “You remember that stray cat with a limp we found behind the shop in freshman year? She wouldn’t stop crying until we brought it to the vet. And the bird with the broken wing that crashed into the window upstairs—wouldn’t leave its side until it could fly again.” He shook his head, smiling at the indignant look on your face.

“Your complex extends to humans, too, you know,” Felix continued without missing a beat. “You walk home the little kids whose parents are at work during the winter because it gets dark early. That girl who used to get bullied by her classmates would come to Glow Cafe, every morning last semester, just to talk to you. The list goes on.” The blond journalist hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe we’ll make it a new segment in the paper: Good Samaritans of Miroh Heights.”

“Don’t you dare,” you had snapped playfully, “That sounds even more ridiculous than the damned Matchmaker of Miroh Heights.”

“You can’t save everyone, y/n,” Hyunjin had said, giving you a small, well-meaning smile. “Someone going into your field ought to know that, sooner or later. No matter how stubborn you are, no matter how much you want to.”

As if on cue, Minho’s words from the rooftop echoed in your head, sending a chill down your spine. There is little you can do for people who don’t want to be helped, y/n.

You gritted your teeth in defiance. To hell with it.

All you knew was that if there was something you were going to save, it was going to be Han Jisung’s life. 

The nurse opened the curtains, letting bright beams of sunlight cast their warmth into the room. The light was blinding, but it felt good on your face nonetheless. Before she left the room, she turned to you. “Is there anything I can get you, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip. “Can I have my laptop?” 

━━━━━━━━

Your paper was just as you remembered it — you had thought the rough draft was completed, save for a few points that needed tweaking and a few references you needed to track down and cite, but now you quickly scrolled to the bottom and deleted the entire conclusion. You had all the puzzle pieces in your hands — not just the voice recordings and notes from the final interviews, but you now had access to police statements (Chan and Woojin were one phone call away) and numerous newspaper articles. Now you knew which concepts to apply, now you had all the theories and evidence you needed.

This wasn’t just going to be a final paper.

You had to get it published as a formal case study.

By the time you had finalized your thesis and made the finishing touches, the moon was threatening to drop from inky night sky, the hues of dawn slashing through the velvet horizon. Your room was dim, but you could feel the city below — and the rest of the hospital outside your room — thrum with a sort of life, a neverending heartbeat. Your phone was still warm by your side, having made nonstop calls to whoever you could get ahold of that was working on Jisung’s case. You picked it up to make one last call.

You peeked at the clock. 5:02 A.M. “Rise and shine,” you muttered, and punched in the number.

He picked up on the seventh ring. “...ngh? Whuhsh hap’ningh?” 

“Felix,” you breathed. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed your best friend, and his familiar, groggy voice made you smile. “Felix, it’s me.”

You heard him sit bolt upright and choke before clearing his throat, fully awake now. “y/n? Holy shit, you — are you okay? I mean, what the hell, of course you’re not fucking okay — when did you wake up?”

“This morning,” you told him. “Look—”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I— I don’t even know what to say. If I could go back to the day I set up that stupid blind date —”

“I’d let you,” you interrupted him, and you heard him fall silent in confusion before you continued. “Listen, Felix. If you really want to make it up to me, check your email and read the paper I’m sending over.” 

“You...want me to read over your psych paper?” There were a few beats of silence as the blond skimmed over the documents you had sent, and realisation dawned on him. “Y/n — these are — you mean —”

“Today’s Saturday. The weekly campus paper goes out on Monday. I need you to cover this story, ‘lix.” 

You heard him swallow uneasily. “Shit, y/n, I—you realise these directly contradict the local press? They’ve been throwing up story after story about how Jisung’s a — a cold-blooded psychopath, and that lead prosecutor keeps egging them on. The campus newspaper is far bigger than your average school newsletter, heck, I’ve been bragging about it since before I joined, but…” he hesitated before saying the worry that had been tugging at the back of your mind. “Will it even stand a chance?”

You exhaled slowly. For a long moment, all you could hear was your pounding heartbeat, synchronised to the high-pitched beeping of the heart machine by your bed. “We won’t know unless we try.” Your voice faltered, giving into your own creeping anxiety. “What do you think?”

At that, you heard him let out a slow, decisive breath, and something changed in the blond’s voice — a grit and determination you always saw when Felix was working on a new story, setting his mind to a challenge — and it immediately gave you a newfound surge of confidence, a feeling of assuredness you hadn’t felt in a while. 

“I think,” Felix began, and you could almost see the glint of determination flickering over his usually mischief-bright eyes, “It’s time to kick some prosecutor ass.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

I was wondering if you could do something with ambulon, possibly fluff? Love the imagines btw

Thank you for giving me an excuse to love on my favorite underappreciated boy. Also, thank you, I love all the inspiration!

The chipping paint was a sore point for Ambulon, like so many other things about himself, but unlike all his other unfortunate traits it was made so much worse by the simple fact that it was impossible to hide. Having an embarrassing altmode, the true reason for his name, even his past as a Decepticon... he could cover all that up no problem. But the constantly chipping paint job? No shielding that from anyone close enough to simply see him...

It was made worse by how often bots tried to offer tips; use a primer, pay for a proper redo, try some new sealant... He knows they mean well, but none of them know what they're talking about, not really. If it was that easy, did they really think he wouldn't have fixed it by now? The Decepticon purple paint underneath was just as fragmented as the medic coded red and white on top, and that wasn't going to be fixed by anything simple.

The truth was "Flaky Paint Syndrome" could have many causes despite manifesting as a single, embarrassing result, and while most bots had poor application or easily irritated mesh to blame, his problem was rooted in something far less corporeal.

He was anxious. Every hour of every day, something had him on edge, and the constant strain on his nerves resulted in chips of paint cracking away from his always agitated frame. It was lucky really, most bots as unsettled as he was developed spark static or overheated and warped joints, his constant buzz of disquiet just made him look somewhat sloppy. Such a personality probably made his occupation seem like a bad choice, but he was content to endure the struggle for the satisfaction of saving lives, and now that he was on the relatively stable Lost Light he was managing better than he had in a long time. Thus, he hadn't had any plans on changing his status quo anytime soon.

Until you had showed up.

He hadn't even met a human before you'd joined the crew, but even if he had, he never could have expected that you'd get tangled up in his life the way you did. Something about you had just... connected with him. Maybe it was the fact that you didn't make fun of him, either for his altmode or his appearance, and also hadn't judged him for his past... Not even the reason for his silly name had made you laugh! He just liked spending time with you, even if it was to do nothing in particular.

As a result of these feelings, a desire to impress you had formed, and he'd actually made an effort to keep up with his looks for a change. Granted, that meant daily repaints completely unaided and in secret, all in his room where he twisted and turned in a ridiculous effort to look good for the person who probably only saw him as a friend. Logic didn't play much of a role in feelings, however.

Of course, it was just his luck you'd walked in on him at this most embarrassing time for the kind of friendly visit he ordinarily would have been thrilled about.

The cry of surprise that had escaped him when the doors whooshed open was impressively high pitched for a bot of his size, but you'd probably been more focused on the paint his startled jump had sent spattering in all directions, though none of it had flown far enough to hit you by some miracle.

"Ambulon, are you okay?!" You shouted in alarm, seeing the flash of red but not his paintbrush and immediately thinking of blood. Though you knew bots bled glowing pink, the instinct to offer aid at the first impulse was just too hard to ignore. Without hesitation, you hurried to get to his side, only growing more concerned as he hid his hand behind his back. Even if this wasn't how you'd wanted your visit to go you cared far too much about the medic to be concerned about such petty things. "What's wrong? Where are you hurt?"

"Who? Me? Hurt?" He rushes in ongoing panic, backing up against a desk to put as much space between you and him as possible. Despite looking ridiculous backing away from someone as small as you, all he can think to do is hide his paintbrush in an effort to save his dignity. At least, what's left of his dignity as he sputters through an excuse made up on the spot. "I'm just, uh... You know..."

Painting a landscape? Applying color to his hab suite? Decorating his medical supplies!?

"Are you painting something?" You asked, moving your small body to catch a glimpse of a bot sized paintbrush in the hand he hadn't done a good enough job of hiding. You figuring out the problem actually seemed to make him panic more, and he twisted again to hide the offending object behind his back, looking down at you as if you'd just stumbled upon him burying a body.

"Of course not!" He said in a rush, lie falling apart when the thick application of bright red he'd applied to his chest dripped downwards from the force of his rapid twisting around. Cringing, he avoided your eyes like a criminal. It would be bad enough if you simply knew about his troubles in any level of detail, but to have personally seen his juvenile and ridiculous efforts to cover up his humiliating condition... Would it be too much to ask that he dissapear at this very moment?

"Ambulon, are you okay?"

Nope, he's not, he won't be ever again but it's very nice that you thought to ask-

"Seriously, look at me."

You're firm but not at all angry as you issue the command, starting to put the pieces together in a way that makes some sense. The medic has had paint troubles more or less his entire life, as you've heard, but they had started to dissapear right about when you showed up. Though you hadn't pried, it had been logical to assume he'd been fixing himself up. Regardless of the accuracy of your guess, however, you know that this bot needs help. As much as you care for him, you simply can't let him suffer needlessly. No matter how often he switches between seeking you out and avoiding you...

"I'm... I'm fine, I promise." He mumbles, feeling like a pitiful failure for not even thinking to lock his door. There's so much to be embarrassed by he doesn't even know where to begin being mortified, but it's obvious the fallout will be a spiral into further humiliation, so he still wants to stall. You'll laugh when you hear he's been fixing himself up in a ridiculous attempt to impress you, because of course it's absurd, and he'll never be able to show his face again...

"Why are you embarrassed about some paint? I figured bots touched themselves up every now and then." You said innocently, baffled as to why he'd react in such a way. Rodimus bragged about redoing his colors all the time, so you'd figured there were no issues in doing so. Was there some other reason this could be considered embarrassing? The only possible explanation required you to go on a bit of a limb, but for his sake you decided to chance it, gulping once before you hesitantly spoke up. "Did you do this for me? Have you been redoing the colors since I got here?"

Ambulon flinched, and you realized you'd hit the nail on the head.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what?" You asked incredulously, head swimming with emotions clustering to be felt first. There was surprise, giddy delight, bashfulness, and even confoundment at the idea you could be in this situation. A part of you wanted to celebrate, but there was still far too much to sort through at the moment. His look of hopelessness exemplified the problem.

"For being ridiculous! Look at me! Pretending if I touch up some rough patches, it'll actually do anything? Ha!" He said, giving voice to the unpleasant uncertainty that lurked just below the surface. Drowning in his insecurity, he frowned hard, the absurdity of what he'd been trying to do all but slapping him in the face. Forget the species difference, you were a vibrant and charming individual who deserved far better than he. What had he even been trying to do? The answer came out of him as he sunk down to the ground and let the brush fall, hugging his knees as the weight of it all pulled him down. "I wanted so badly to look good for you, I lost track of common sense..."

"But Ambulon-"

Unable to hear you, he kept right on going, lost in his own little fog of shame. "You weren't supposed to know... Nobody was supposed to know... But I blew it-"

"Ambulon!"

You couldn't take it any more. The heartbreaking sight of the bot you thought was so delightful tearing himself apart was too much. Ignoring any common sense, you put yourself out for his sake, opening up your heart in the hope that your own vulnerabilities might help him feel better. A tender hand on his own preceded a gentle expression of reasurance as you looked into his optics.

"I'm flattered you want to look your best for me, really. But it's not necessary." You said, suddenly aware that your heart was hammering as you prepared to confess. It was probably about time you cut to the chase, after spending these months bobbing along in uncertainty, but that didn't make it any less scary to be so open. Hopefully it would all end well... "I think you look fine just how you are."

Ambulon felt his processor go blank, and all that he could do was fall back on his usual attitude with a surprised retort. "But I'm a mess!"

You laughed, but not in the way he'd feared. It was a good natured, loving, laughing with him and not at him kind of sound. "I don't care about some paint chips now and then, you goof. Why do you think I'm here?" All of a sudden your fear seemed to be turning into confidence, the anxieties you'd created for yourself melting away as the truth came out. Seeing a towering alien laid low by your simple feelings definitely made it much easier to express them. "I wanted to see you, purple and red and all, because I like you."

Something clicked inside of him upon hearing those words. So much shame and fear dissolved in what felt like an instant, his optics pushing up with his cheeks as he smiled the biggest and happiest smile he could, optics brightening the whole while. It was what he'd wanted more than anything but feared he'd never receive. Unfurling his legs, he leaned down just a tad to get closer. Heedless to everything about himself that had bothered him so much, he spoke softly in return.

"I really like you too."

"I know." You replied softly, looking to the brush that had fallen to the floor and the paint still drying on his frame as an idea hatched in your head. The two of you had a lot to talk about, it seemed, and you had the perfect way to pass the time while doing so. "Now, how about I help you finish up? Don't want all this to go to waste."

Realizing what you were suggesting, he picked up a much smaller paintbrush and handed it to you, still smiling as he helped you onto his desk where the paints laid out for use.

"I'd like that."

[oohfluffy]

TIHM Ch.20 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 4,950

chapter 20

You nibbled on your straw as you nervously watched him play on the field.

You've just arrived ten minutes ago right after your Wednesday class ended. Since you didn't have a work shift today, which Baekhyun knew as he already memorized your working schedule, you were dragged here to watch him practice. Although you preferred to study at home, you couldn't say no to that guy.

Not after indirectly accepting his confession yesterday.

Your cheeks automatically blushed at the thought of what transpired at the hallway yesterday. You looked down at the lemonade drink he bought for you earlier, a smile getting to your lips as you remembered his words.

"Here, baby. You just sit there prettily, and watch me. I'll get back to you whenever we take a break." Baekhyun grinned as he gently placed the plastic cup of a well-known café in your hand. Before you could even utter a word, he leaned on your face and pecked your forehead. "I'll take you home later, okay?"

And like a weak chick you are, you responded with a nod as if in a trance.

"Hmm, 'kay."

"I was wondering why Byun is in such a good mood and is basically smashing the game big time." You grunted as you saw your best friend walking towards your seat. "And the reason is right over here." She bowed at you as if greeting a higher-up, making you attempt to kick her shin.

"I forgot you're practicing here as well, Jiwon-ah."

"How heartless, Jin-ah. How could you forget?" Jiwon pouted as she sat beside you, slumping on the bench like a lifeless being. "So, I'm guessing you chose the latter."

You stared at her for a while, seeing how her eyes drifted towards the field. Her lips curled up into a smile as she looked back at you. Grabbing your other hand, she squeezed it in assurance. You don't know why, but your heart felt so relieved.

"I might always sound like I don't want you to be with Byun, but I'm your best friend." She mumbled as she looked down at your hand. "I want you to know that I've got your back, always. I just don't want you getting hurt because of love, may it be for friendship or something else. Not again."

Jiwon has always been there. Although we only became friends almost a year after the incident, she didn't get swayed by others' words or the rumors about me. She was the only one who believed me.

With these thoughts occupying your mind, you gave her the widest smile you could ever give to someone. Her eyes slightly widened at your expression, one that she has not witnessed in the past years of being with you.

"I'm happy to have you, Jiwon-ah. I'm very grateful." You said as you squeezed her hand too, cheeks trembling with your smile. You wanted to cry right now. "I'm sorry if I did nothing but to make you worry about me. I-I swear I won't be reckless—"

"Oh shut up, Lee Saejin. It's my duty as your best friend to worry about you, and yours to me as well! S-Stop making that pitiful expression." She tsked as she pinched your cheek, making you groan.

"Jiwon-ah! We'll start in a few!" You recognized one of her friends in the higher year called her from a distance. They were warming up for their practice near the grandstand.

"Oof, that's my cue then." Jiwon huffed as she stood up. "Byun will take you home, right?"

Your cheeks reddened at the mention of his name.

"Y-Yeah. You can come with us—"

"I might as well die trying to get in between your lovey-dovey time. No thanks." She chuckled while patting your head. "I'll get home by dinner, so cook for us, okay? I'll be looking forward to it!"

"Alright."

"Oh! And help me pack my things for the break later, please?"

You smiled as you watched her run back to her group, easily blending in to the outgoing atmosphere. You wondered why she chose to befriend a loner like you. That goes for Baekhyun as well though.

You almost forgot that the winter break is getting nearer, specifically two weeks from now. Right after the last football game of the year, the break will start. You remembered that Jiwon will be going to her boyfriend's hometown since he's finally back from the States after a year.

What should I do for the holidays then? Should I just work at the café for the entire holiday season? That will be tiring, but money is the best.

You chuckled at your thought as you shook your head. It is true, but maybe, you can rest for a week or two without doing anything at home. Just reading, eating, watching, and writing.

"I guess the rumors are true. Baekhyun oppa really brought her here!"

"How'd she manage to seduce him?! This is unacceptable."

"From Lisa to a garbage? I'm sure oppa has been cursed."

"Our poor Baekhyun oppa!"

Your mood got spoiled as your hearing sensed the bees trying to sting you at your back. With how loud their voices were, you knew that they intended to let you hear them just to irritate you. Unfortunately for them, you were immune to such harsh commentaries. No thank you for the past few years of hearing shit, huh?

Just in time as you glanced back at the field, you saw Baekhyun trudging back at you with a frown. Your furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Did he do bad in practice? He was playing with so much vigor earlier while casually looking back at you. Why is he—

"You're not paying attention to me, Saejin-ah." He spoke as he stood right in front of you. You were actually seated at the front bench, where they left their water jugs and towels, thus, you get all the glares from the audience at the back. Baekhyun said he wants you near his sight, so he placed you at their bench.

This is why I can't seem to look around freely.

"I am! I was just talking to Jiwon for a while." You exclaimed as you looked up at his sweaty figure. You gulped at the sight. "I-Is it your break already?"

Who looks good while they're sweating and... breathless? This guy.

"No." Baekhyun said as he sat closely beside you. His jersey touching your shoulders gave you an unexpected sense of comfort. You moved a bit away from him before turning your head to him because for your heart's sake, you wouldn't be able to breathe being too close to him.

"What? Junmyeon sunbae will surely get mad at me!" You exclaimed, instantly glancing back at the field where the boys were. They are still practicing with the captain shouting as he pointed to their positions. "He's been glaring at me for sometime now."

"Eh, I'll be back after I recharge."

"Recharge?" You mumbled incredulously as he turned to you, leaning his upper body on the bench behind him. Your gaze drifted to his jug that was just beside you, and realized that he must be thirsty from the practice. "Oh."

Taking the towel that has a small BBH initials at the ends from the other side, you faced him again with a determined expression. He tilted his head in wonder as you placed the jug in his slender hand.

"Drink." You said while patting his wet cheeks with the towel in your hand. "You're so sweaty. No wonder why you stink so much." You stifled a laugh as his lips frowned more, giving you enough confidence to help him recharge.

With your serious eyes wandering from his forehead down to his neck, Baekhyun felt too comfortable that he was already feeling hot from your stare. His tongue clicked as you were too busy dabbing his towel on his face, unconscious of how you were affecting him right now. He can't even bring his jug up to his mouth without staring at yours.

"Why aren't you drinking? Do you want the lemonade instead?" You asked with an eyebrow raised. You stopped wiping his sweat off and let the towel rest on his shoulder. "Wait, I'll buy—"

"I don't need a drink."

His voice was deep and hoarse. You would have argued that he sounded like he really needs a drink right now, but his gaze was too... intense. He placed his jug back at his side, sliding a bit closer to you as if noticing the distance you've managed to build between the two of you.

"But you said you wanted to recharge?"

"It's a hassle to take off this jersey, so I can't hug you. It's dirty too, so no." Baekhyun huffed as he patted his chest. His uniform is indeed brownish already since he kept on rolling on the ground and running. "A pat on the head will do."

"Pat on the head?" You incredulously asked, a smile creeping up your face. You suddenly figured out what recharging meant to him. "I-Is that suppose to be your way of recharging?"

Baekhyun just slightly bowed his head near you, shaking it like a dog wanting to be pet. You consciously looked around with trembling lips. You wanted to chuckle so bad, but this guy is seriously asking for a pat on the head.

When you saw that most of the people around you were watching the practice or minding their own businesses, you reached your hand out to Baekhyun's head. He smiled as your palm rubbed his grayish hair gently.

"Is this enough?" You mumbled while combing your fingers through his hair. He hummed, and suddenly leaned his face closer to yours. You cleared your throat as your eyes glanced at the bleachers behind you, where a group of girls were watching. Fortunately, they weren't focused on you despite Baekhyun's presence.

I wonder why they tend to avoid my eyes when he's here.

"Can I ask for more?"

"Hmm?" You looked back at the man in front of you, and widened your eyes at the little distance between the two of you. "B-Baek."

He pouted his lips as if to elaborate his request, his eyes twinkling in anticipation. You could already hear Junmyeon's call from the field, making your heart thump in panic. You tapped Baekhyun's chest as you glanced at the boys he left practicing.

"Captain's calling you—"

"I won't go until you kiss me. Just once!"

"Byun Baekhyun, go. We're in a public place—"

"The hallways are public places too!" He argued with the most childish voice you have ever heard in your life. You stifled a snort as the blush spread across your cheeks, remembering the outrageous act you have done yesterday with him.

W-Well, that's right.

"T-That was—"

"LEE SAEJIN, IF YOU DON'T BRING THAT BASTARD BACK HERE, I'M SUING YOU!" Junmyeon's loud voice rang through the air, making you cringe at the threatening tone. The other boys just laughed loudly as they teased the said boy.

"Come on, Jin-ah. They're waiting." Baekhyun's lips curled into a smirk, eyes now full of mischief and seduction. "Just a peck, please. Pretty pweaseee?"

You sighed in defeat as you playfully slapped both of your hands on his cheeks, earning a grunt from him.

"Okay, just a peck and you run back there, alright?"

"Deal."

After squishing his cheeks for a bit, you leaned towards his face and closed your eyes. The second your lips touched his, Baekhyun moaned in delight as if his thirst was finally quenched. You chuckled as he tried to bite your lower lip in an attempt to deepen the kiss. He was frustrated that he couldn't touch you fully as much as he wanted because he was dirty, and the last thing he desired is getting the dirt to your white shirt.

Before pulling away, you intentionally glided your tongue on his, not knowing it would spark something inside of him. With a triumphant smile, you patted his chest once again to remind him of the deal. His expression cannot be read, but he was totally at the edge of frustration.

"Run, Byun." You pointed at the field as you heard the boys cheered and shouted for Baekhyun. "They're waiting."

Baekhyun incredulously stared back at you, lips plump and parted.

"I don't think I can practice now. I got a hard—"

"Just go! Junmyeon's going to sue me!" You pushed him off of his seat, forcefully making him stand. "If you don't go there now, I'm going to be mad. Big time."

He scratched the back of his head, glancing at his team before gazing back at you longingly. You smiled at his soft gaze. You reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"I'll be right here."

He nodded with a grin, looking at your small hand grasping his longer ones. Baekhyun took your words as his motivation to go. Finally, taking a step forward.

Not before stealing another kiss from your lips though.

"WOOH! BYUN FOR THE WIN!" Kai shouted as he pumped his fist to the air, earning laughs and cheers from the other boys. They were all waiting for his return, probably using the time as their break. Junmyeon was even laughing along with them.

Your whole face was on fire as you watched Baekhyun run back to the field energetically, as if he really recharged while being with you. You didn't even want to look at your best friend's reaction from the corner. Sitting back up straight, you gripped on Baekhyun's towel on your lap.

How will you get used to this, Lee Saejin?

—

"Where's your boyfriend? I don't see him around." Jisoo asked as she looked around the cafè. You stopped on your tracks, hearing the 'b' word.

"I-I don't have a boyfriend, unnie. He's..." You slowly put down the plates on the tray, waiting for Rocky to serve the order. "...my suitor?"

"You sure about that?" Jisoo chuckled as your eyebrows scrunched in wonder.

"W-Well, we haven't really talked about it. I mean, how do you start a conversation about it?" You bit your lower lip, tapping on the counter impatiently.

You were actually thinking about your official relationship status with Baekhyun these past few days, but you cannot get an answer without an agreement from him, right? He's probably in the suitor stage.

But is he still up for courtship? Will anyone keep a Byun Baekhyun in the waiting area?

"One iced americano, please."

You instinctively bowed at the customer, moving away from the counter to prepare whatever he was about to order. Jisoo hummed in delight as she tugged you towards the cashier area.

"What—"

When you looked up at the customer, you realized why Jisoo placed you here instead. She cleared her throat as she smiled at him. Somi, who was by the coffee machine, formed her lips to an 'o' as if getting what was happening. You inwardly facepalmed at the situation.

"Ehm, one iced americano..." Your fingers tingle as you tapped on the screen in front of you, feeling his gaze piercing through you. "Anything else?"

"Hmm, two slices of strawberry cheesecake and..." He hummed as he looked through the display glass. "... what else do you want, baby?"

You shivered at the endearment as you stopped sliding your finger against the screen. Looking back up, he was alone, and obviously that question was for you. He raised his eyebrows up as you met his eyes, waiting for your answer.

"B-Baekhyun, I'm working." You lowered your voice, hearing Jisoo's laugh nearby. "You'll be eating by yourself—"

"I'll save it for you later then." He jutted his lower lip out as he blinked his eyes rapidly.

Why does he have to be so cute and annoying?

"One iced americano, two slices of strawberry cheesecake..." You looked into his expectant eyes as you spoke. "... and two honey glazed bagels."

That did it. Baekhyun paid the bill with a grin, squeezing your hand in the process. He winked before sitting on the nearest available seat. You're not sure if you can focus on work like this. Him within your sight range? No.

"Jisoo unnie, please take the wheel. I'll just go back in helping Woobin oppa at the kitchen." You quickly went to the back, welcoming Woobin's commands with a smile.

"Oh, Saejin-ah." Mingyu, who finally got back in duty, called out. You waved at him as he was on the other side of the room, getting new paper cups from the boxes. "Hyunjin went to clean the men's bathrooms. Can you help here instead?"

"Okay!"

After two hours of being swept with several customers, your mind drifted to Baekhyun. The last time you got to glance back at him was an hour ago when he was still sipping on his americano while scrolling on his phone.

He wouldn't wait for another three hours, right?

"Saejin!" Hearing the familiar voice of Aunt Jinah, you instantly looked back. She was placing her wet umbrella on the stand beside the entrance. You took that opportunity to glance at the seat where Baekhyun should be in, but he wasn't there. "You're still here? I thought you're leaving by 6?"

"Aunt Jinah, let me get that coat for you." You smiled at her, helping her take off the coat. "Me? Why would I leave by 6? My shift ends at 8:30 though?"

"Y-You must have forgotten you asked me before." She nervously laughed as she patted your hand. "Go pack up. Your boyfriend's waiting outside."

Why do they keep on saying that?

"He's not—"

"Rocky, Somi, and Mingyu are on the clock now anyway. You can go." Aunt Jinah smiled as she pointed at the three employees. She meant that the crew can handle the work efficiently now that they were present. You couldn't deny that the past weeks without all of them were kind of unstable, so having them here was a relief. "Enjoy, alright?"

"You can rest easy, Saejin unnie. There's not many customers by this time anyway." Somi grinned while ringing the bell, placing down the cup of coffee on the tray. Rocky instantly went to get the order and smoothly trudged through the tables.

"You've worked hard."

You weren't certain if you really just forgot about asking for an early leave, or some external force was intentionally dragging you out. You watched as Aunt Jinah greeted the whole crew, casually reminding them their tasks and noticing various things around.

You scratched the back of your head in confusion as everyone was already back to their work. You walked back to the locker room to get your things. It was the first time that you'd be the first one to leave, and you were wondering what can be the occasion today that will make you ask for an early leave.

"I'll be leaving then." You slightly bowed at Aunt Jinah, who just waved at you with an encouraging smile. Jisoo gave you a thumbs up while Somi grinned.

As you left the café, you heard a horn from the side. You instantly recognized the black Mustang on the first row of cars. Seeing Baekhyun waving from the window, you walked towards it instead with your lips tingling.

"Did you get too bored?" You asked him as soon as you got in the passenger's seat. You instantly saw the paper bag with your bagels.

"No, I didn't. I heard from your boss that you have an early leave today, so I was excitedly waiting for you." He answered with a grin as he cooly reversed the vehicle with ease. You watched as he seriously gazed at the side mirror outside while turning the steering wheel. Your gaze dropped at his hands that are gripping the wheel, his veins protruding a bit with the force he is using towards it.

His hands are really pretty, but at the same time, really really seductive.

Bothered with your thoughts, your eyebrows knitted as you observed his hands.

How can his hands be pretty and sexy at the same time? Is that possible? No wonder people compliments not only his piano skills, but his hands too. Mine looks like an old lady's.

"What are you thinking about?" Baekhyun noticed your silence as he drove through the street. Glancing at your side, he saw that you were intensely looking at his hands.

"Your hands."

"Hmm, my hands?" He said with amusement while spreading his hands on the wheel.

"Pretty." You mumbled a compliment as you looked at your own hands. Your left pinky was wrapped with a band-aid as you got a small cut from the kitchen earlier. Your fingers look exhausted and sad.

Baekhyun gazed at your hands and smoothly slipped his right on your left. You were surprised that he was also looking at you, his eyes gentle and attentive.

"Y-You're driving! Eyes on the road!" You mumbled in panic as he intertwined his fingers with yours. You looked away from him, taking the opportunity to hide your reddening cheeks by gazing down your lap. Now you could clearly see how pretty his hand is.

"Yes, ma'am!" Baekhyun said in a firm tone, a smile playing on his lips as he looked back at the front.

"Where are we going anyway?" You suddenly asked.

"Somewhere."

The mall.

You forgot when was the last time you've gone to the mall. You almost gasped at the bright lights when you got inside with Baekhyun. He still has your hand in his, keeping you close while you walk side by side.

The car was actually parked by the valet employee, so you could enter the mall through the front entrance easily. You wondered if this mall was a high-class one.

"What are we doing at the mall?"

"Shopping? Date?" He mumbled his answers as he looked at you, who was curiously looking around with twinkling eyes. "Ah, I actually have an appointment today."

"Hmm? Where?"

Without answering your question, he just led you both to his destination where his appointment was. Baekhyun was being stared at as usual, women of different age were ogling at him without restraint. But fortunately, they weren't bold enough to come up to him.

Why does he have to be so popular? I'm gonna break these women's necks!

"What are we going to do here? It's already quarter to 7 pm."

"We're here."

When you looked at the front, you saw a beautifully decorated salon. The color theme was white and gold, making a surreal aesthetic visual of the place. From the outside, you can see expensive looking velvet couches and high chairs. The lights weren't too blinding, but pleasing enough to see with. The mirrors in front of each revolving salon chair have their own vanity lights—

"Welcome, Mr. Byun! We've been waiting." You didn't even notice the employees lined up at the entrance. Your lips parted in awe and shock. "I'll lead you inside then."

"B-Baek, what's this? Why does it seem like they're welcoming the president or a royalty here?" You whispered at him as he walked with you inside, passing the bowing employees quietly. You were too scared to speak louder because hell, the place was empty except for the presence of the employees and you two. "Did you just rent this whole place out?"

"I don't need to rent it out, baby." Baekhyun chuckled as he watched you look around cautiously. He looked at the employee that greeted you both, who seems like the manager of the salon. His playful eyes turned back to serious. "The usual—ah, not the usual. Give me a cut, and black."

"What—"

"What do you want, hmm? Tell me." Baekhyun's voice was gentle as he spoke to you, in contrast to how he spoke to the personnel. You awkwardly looked around. His fingers twirled around your hair.

I don't think I could have my hair cut here.

"I just want to watch you then." You lifted your eyes to him, watching how he admired your hair.

"Hmm, okay." Baekhyun smiled.

When Baekhyun sat on the black revolving chair, you were led to the nearest couch. You could clearly see and watch him from here. His eyes easily caught yours, turning into crescent moons as soon as they did. You waved a magazine at him to assure him you were comfortable there.

The salon was sensible enough to play some music throughout the place. Most of the employees went back to their respective stations, making you feel at ease because you cannot stay any longer under their curious gazes.

I didn't know Baekhyun was very highly respected, even here. His family is really no joke, huh?

"Would you like some tea, Ms. Lee?" You almost slipped off of your seat when a female employee came up to you. "It wouldn't take more than an hour for Mr. Byun's haircut, but we would like to see you comfortable enough as you wait."

"Uhm, no thanks—"

"We insist." She smiled.

"W-Water then."

"Alright, I'll be back."

After less than an hour, you were in the middle of reading the fifth fashion magazine when you heard Baekhyun's voice. Figuring that he must be done already, you placed back everything to the stack of reading materials on the side.

"Thank you for your patronage, Mr. Byun. It was nice to have you again."

"Saejin-ah, let's go." Baekhyun reached for your hand as soon as he got close enough to you. It was like the most casual thing you've been doing with him these past few weeks.

Were we acting like lovers before without being conscious about it?!

"Sorry, you must be so bored—"

"No, it was fun—"

You forgot to even look at him closely.

His hair is now dyed black, undercut and parted in the middle with his bangs loosely framing his pretty face. Although it still looks fluffy, he looks more intimidating in this hairstyle and haircut. You couldn't help but to reach out and touch it.

"Wow." — the only word you could come up with at the moment.

Baekhyun smiled at you, eyes mesmerized with the way you are looking at him right now. He bowed his head lower to let you touch his hair more, which you gladly welcomed. He can feel your breathing on his neck, making him feel things.

"Handsome." You giggled as you carefully scratched the sides of his head, feeling the roughness of the newly shaved part. "It looks good on you."

"Did you fall for me now?" He mumbled quietly as he held your waist closer. "I told you, you will when I dye my hair black." He chuckled, hands freely caressing you.

Hmm? I think I remember that conversation.

"I wonder if black hair suits you better."

"Any color suits me, love."

"Oh really."

"You'd probably fall for me when I dye my hair black."

You stifled a laugh, patting his cheeks as you remembered. Baekhyun pouted his lips, thinking that you were mocking him instead.

"You're hurting my feelings."

"Pss. You don't even have to dye your hair black."

When he heard your reply, his eyes turned into their usual crescent moon shapes as he happily gazed at you. Your cheeks flamed when you realized what you just said. In front of the many employees waiting around you—

"O-Oh, we should go." You bowed at the employees as you tugged Baekhyun out of the salon.

That was embarrassing! Did we seriously just flirt inside of a salon with several eyes and ears— ah shit.

"I think I'm getting too aggressive and bold like you, Baekhyun-ah." You unconsciously said as you breathed out when you got outside.

"I like it."

"Aish, this guy."

Baekhyun stopped right in front of you with a smile that almost blinded you for the nth time. His black hair can kill, damn it. His hands covered your flushing cheeks, making you feel warm. When he leaned in, you knew what was coming.

*smooch *smooch *smooch

His cute mouth made sounds as he pecked your lips repeatedly without any shame. Your eyes remained open, still not conscious enough to respond. Feeling the one-sided act, Baekhyun bit your lower lip carefully. His perfect teeth dug a small dent on your mouth, letting him earn a moan from you.

When you had the chance to peel him off of your lips, you placed your weak hands on his chest.

"I-I don't think we should be doing this here."

"'Cause it's a public place?" Baekhyun said with a smirk, his arms now dangling around your waist. His lips lingered over your cheek, letting you breathe and speak.

"N-Not just that, because it's inappropriate!"

"Car then?"

"Shut up!" You hit his broad chest as he laughed.

"Baekhyun?"

His laugh subsided and your breathing got stable when you suddenly heard a female voice. It was full, firm, and stern. You pushed Baekhyun away as he hesitantly took a step back to turn to the one who called him. A smile was still on his face until he recognized the woman in front of him.

She is in a wheelchair.

There are two body guards behind her, excluding the woman pushing her wheelchair. Her clothes were classy; her jewelries exude elegance; and her hair pinned in a neat bun. Her presence was intimidating but graceful enough for you to take a second glance.

You didn't know who she was, but you kind of got the hint that she was someone powerful and important as Baekhyun bowed his head in respect. You just slightly bowed your head, following him.

You wouldn't have heard his voice if not for the close distance between the two of you.

"Mom."

—

An early New Year gift from fluffy-nim!

Tagging my loves: ❤

@byuncock | @neogoturback | @jisungispilledmyuwus | @shesdreaminginoverdose | @precious-seungwooya | @junmyeonimissyou | @baekhyunsdangerouswoman | @jummyjammy | @tobiosbbyghorl | @lalalala-lav | @thoughtsofidk | @byuniieo | @feline-xiu | @banddits | @half-moon-x | @byunxo | @strawbaeri-s​ | @vishary15​ | @hansolturnt​ | @jungkooksworld18​ | @kingkushdealer​ | @marovekian1​ | @chloebarlin​ | @lifewithsehun​ | @dobomiyeon​ | @kpopseregi​ | @starrybbhx​ | @making-me-blush​ | @bbh-kji​ | @cam-peggio​ | @sehunnies-hunnie96​ | @chanvan61 | @cherish-you 

I don’t know why I can’t tag some of you huhu. I hope you guys can still see it! Stay safe. 

—

♫ Ch.21

[among-starz]

is your bedroom ceiling bored?

Description: Fem! MC (named Violet here) and Gavin mutually pine for each other and are too damn stressed. Based on the song is your bedroom ceiling bored? by Sody ft. Cavetown, but not too heavily. Can be read without listening to the song.

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist

Fic under the cut :)

The room was almost pitch dark, save for the light of a computer shining over Violet's face when she unceremoniously pressed the last key for her night of work and shut the face of her laptop. She held her arms over her head, trying to stretch the day's fatigue out of her body, longing for nothing more than to jump into bed and sleep for the next few days, but there were still things to be done even though it was, she checked the time on her phone, much too late for her to be up. Beneath the time taunting her, there was a single notification left unread, a text from Gavin that said:

Don't stay up too late, Violet. Goodnight.

The simple words flooded Violet's heart with an emotion that was so new to her but had carved a place in her heart so deep that she knew without it she'd be lost. Her fingers ghosted over the keyboard, thinking of something to say to the boy who caught her heart, but they stayed still. Words flowed easily from Violet when she was writing proposals or scripts for upcoming shows, but when it came to Gavin they simply stopped.

After a few moments of contemplation, Violet threw her phone on her bed and made her way to the bathroom. It was already late and, like Gavin said, she needed to sleep. She could contemplate her response in the shower. She found so many proposal ideas stuck beneath the steaming water, next to her shampoo, why couldn't she find the perfect response here too? So as Violet stripped down and entered the shower, letting the water stream down her body, her mind was filled only with thoughts of Gavin and how to respond.

It's not like she needed a perfect response, Violet reasoned, it's not like Gavin spent this much time contemplating what to text her. It's not like he'd notice if her words weren't chosen to perfection, crafting a symphony of words that told him exactly how she felt for him. But that man, that amazing man, he deserved nothing less than perfection.

The hot water did nothing to spark a response in Violet's mind. It only cleaned her off and replaced the stress from work with a different Gavin-related one. Violet dressed, relishing in how her pajamas warmed her form that was already missing the burning heat of the shower and threw herself into bed, her phone bouncing slightly at her weight. She stared at the ceiling, each bump and blemish in the paint looking like stars spread out through the sky. Maybe she would find her answer written there, but she had already spent countless days gazing at her personal constellation map and had yet to find anything helpful written among them. Her ceiling must be bored of her, Violet thought, shifting in bed to look at the wall instead. It had spent countless days watching her watch it, writing and rewriting what she wanted to say to Gavin. A confession of her feelings, an invitation to go out to eat, or a simple good morning all being composed countless times until the wording was perfect. It watched her flail around nervously when she saw Gavin's number pop up on her phone, requesting a call. How she styled and restyled her hair when Gavin texted, saying he was only a few minutes away, clothes that she had deemed not fit to wear for Gavin littering her bedroom floor. Yes, her ceiling must be sick of this pitiful display.

Violet stood up, grabbing her phone and walking towards her balcony. It was only fair to give her poor ceiling a break from her behavior. Goosebumps sprouted on her skin as the cool night air invaded her. She leaned on the cold bar in front of her and looked out at the city she knew and loved. The city she grew up in, the city she met Gavin in. While the buildings and cars in front of her were certainly bright, the stars up above her were even brighter.

Instinctively, Violet scanned the sky for Jupiter. She found it, standing guard over the moon like Gavin told her. Jupiter looked particularly bright today, and Violet couldn't help but wonder what exactly Jupiter saw in the moon that made her worth protecting. Why protect the moon when there are a billion other planetoids much bigger and brighter than the moon? What made that particular hunk of rock special, worth taking a second look at, worth protecting?

As Violet gazed at the moon, she realized it must be a full moon tonight. It shone proudly in front of her, protecting Earth and the humans on it. Maybe the reason the moon stood guard over Earth was the same reason Jupiter stood guard over the moon. But Violet had yet to discover what that reason truly was.

Violet's mind unconsciously drifted back to Gavin and her response. It shouldn't be this hard to draft a goodnight text, yet here she was staring out at the moon, hoping against all hope she would finally find an answer with her because Violet knew this wasn't just a goodnight text, every text Violet sent to Gavin was something more, had to be something more. She wanted to articulate her feelings towards Gavin with all of her being, but what do you say to someone who's captured your heart so utterly and completely? So suddenly, Gavin swooped in and made her feel things that she could never hope to put into words, yet here she stood trying with all her might to do so. Yes, she felt love for Gavin, that was obvious, but this was something bigger. It knawed at her soul so hard that she was afraid it might consume her entirely. It didn't come with words, just a primal urge that made her desperate for more.

"I love him" Violet whispered to herself, hoping maybe the moon would overhear her. If the moon could hear what she knew to be true, the moon may be able to help her find the rest of her words. Help Violet to have Gavin forever, but finally, exhaustion hit Violet like a wave. She wouldn't be able to find her words tonight, that she knew very well. Violet's hand found her phone and she typed out a simple Goodnight, Gavin. And hit send before her clouded brain could beg her to write more.

The moon must be disappointed in her, but Violet couldn't find it in herself to worry about it as sleep threatened to overtake her. She went back inside and flopped onto her bed, thoughts of Gavin filling her head as she quickly drifted off to sleep.

~~~

Gavin drifted back into consciousness without the use of his alarm for the first time in a while. His alarm was set for fairly early in the morning, so this was a rarity. The sun was yet to shine through his windows, and he debated, for the first time in a while, if he should go back to sleep. Gavin knew his body all too well, however, and knew, try as he might, once he awoke in the morning there was no way he would fall back to sleep. So, unwillingly, Gavin sat up in bed and reached for his phone to check the time. It was about a half-hour before his alarm was set to go off, but the time wasn’t what really caught his interest. A text from Violet that read,

Goodnight, Gavin.

was what really caught his eye. The timestamp was much too late into the night for Gavin’s liking, but he knew when Violet wanted something done, nothing, not even sleep, would stop her from completing her task. He wanted to nag her to get more sleep, and he probably would, but he really had no place to talk. Rising before the sun and only getting a few hours of sleep wasn’t healthy either, but he cared much more for Violet’s health than his own.

Gavin unlocked his phone, readying his fingers to type out a good morning message, but his fingers froze on him. He wasn’t the best with words, but through text, he had the ability to mull over what he wanted to say, unlike face-to-face where he had to say what came to his mind on the spot. He very much preferred face-to-face talking, though, because having the ability to think over his words was a one-way ticket to spending hours on a simple text. It seemed something in him had decided this was how he was going to spend his morning, crouched over his phone trying to pick out the perfect words to send to Violet.

If Gavin knew one thing, however, it was that there was no way Violet would be up this early. Hell, he shouldn’t be up this early, so he knew he had a bit to find those words. He should go on his morning run, but if Gavin knew another thing, it was that when his mind was weighed down with thoughts of Violet, he didn't perform his best. There was no use in running this morning when the thoughts swirling around his brain acted as a weight, slowing him down and causing him to stumble over his feet. If he got this text written, though, maybe he'd still have a chance to squeeze a quick run in.

So Gavin flopped back into bed, phone held close to his chest, and hoped the words would come to him soon. His eyes regarded the ceiling, but he wasn't quite looking at it. A glaze formed over his eyes, and he might have even felt himself drift back into sleep for a split second, but his body, ever uncooperative, didn't allow him any more rest. His bed did nothing to uncloud his mind and the ceiling did nothing to spark creativity in his mind, so Gavin slowly sat up and got out of bed, walking aimlessly around his apartment, hoping something would give him an ounce of certainty.

His eyes caught the first glints of the sun rising as he walked past his balcony. If anything, fresh air wouldn't hurt his chances of finding his words, so Gavin slid the door open and walked out into the inviting cold air of morning. There was a thin layer of dew spread evenly across the surface of his balcony that caught between his toes. The sky had turned a brilliant burnt orange color as the sun began to peek above the horizon. Above the slowly rising sun, however, the moon still sat. It must be a full moon, because it looked particularly bright this morning, even when accompanied by the sun.

The moon, a thing of beauty, was a constant in the sky. Though it changed shape and rose and fell at unpredictable times to the uninformed, it always seemed to be there when you most needed it, even if she didn't know it. That, Gavin knew, was why Jupiter protected the moon. Jupiter wanted to be with the moon so bad, and Gavin wondered if the moon would ever look back at Jupiter. Jupiter didn't need thanking, he protected her of his own accord, but Gavin thought Jupiter might just crave recognition from the beauty he protected.

As the sun rose higher and higher, Gavin's gaze shifted back towards the colors she painted in the sky. How come perfection came so easily for the sun? If Gavin could grasp just a fragment of the perfection the sun possessed, he would never struggle with a text again. He could tell Violet exactly how he felt for her with words too beautiful to be shared with anyone but her. This girl helped him soar, dug him out of a pit without even realizing what she had done. She's the sun, crafting perfection without trying. She's the moon, a constant in the sky there when you need her most. She shouldn't accept anything less than perfection, and that's what Gavin intended to give her.

Gavin regarded the sun as it rose higher and higher in the sky, desperately searching for his words in the ever-changing hues she created before him, and as the sky settled into its normal blue, Gavin realized he had to send a text soon. Violet was due to wake up any minute, and he couldn't have her waking up to nothing.

Despite not being perfection, Gavin felt selfish. Even though he thought Violet deserved nothing but magnificence, Gavin couldn't help but want to be around her. He desperately clawed his way through life just for the prospect of seeing her again. So when Gavin's fingers finally found his phone's keyboard, he couldn't help but type out Good morning, wanna get breakfast today? He hoped she would accept his invitation. That would be enough for now.

[bi-ressler]

Coming Home [RessGale]

@skiesfallithurts requested "Coming home + RessGale" for this ask meme (still taking prompts if you want to send something in! Could take me some time though due to real life)

Title: Coming Home Relationship: Julian Gale/Donald Ressler Characters: Julian Gale, Donald Ressler, Henry Prescott (mentioned), Raymond Reddington (mentioned), others (mentioned) Words: 10.891 Setting: Post-Prescott-Arc AU Warnings: Abuse of prescription meds (aka Donnie is back on oxy and I'm not even remotely sorry), sexual assault (non-explicit, but it's being discussed), homophobia very briefly mentioned A/N: I've had this idea in my head for literal ages and thanks to the prompt I'm finally doing it! So thanks for indulging me :D Also, this got away from me (again) and turned out way (WAAAAAY) longer than it should have. Oops! - - - As always, English isn't my first language, this isn't beta'd and all mistakes are mine. Feedback is greatly appreciated :) (Also, tumblr keeps fucking up the formatting, so if the sentence breaks up in the middle of the paragraph, blame hellsite dot com.)

[Read HERE on ao3!]

__________________________________________

Falling back into old habits and unhealthy coping-mechanisms is far too easy, Donald finds. But when everything crumbles around him, and all the poorly concealed cracks and insufficiently closed gaps and holes in his armour, in his life, finally give out and leave nothing but rubble and guilt and dread, it's the only way he can think of not to fall into complete despair and drown himself in self-pity.

But maybe he's already past that point.

Maybe this is what drowning actually feels like, and there's definitely no lack of self-pity on his behalf.

So he downs the pills with a swig of beer, ignoring the fact that this feels far too familiar, far too much like coming home after a storm, soaking wet and shaking to lay down on the warm carpet and breathe for the first time.

It was all a mistake.

The last six years, it was all one big mistake and right now, he'd give everything to go back in time, erase Reddington from his mind, never join that damned taskforce that had him spiralling to this point from day one. Hell, he'd go even further, never become an agent in the first place - maybe open up a coffee shop in Detroid or become a banker or lawyer or anything at all, as long as it's as far away from Reddington and this whole mess as possible.

That way, he'd never meet Henry Prescott. He'd never murder Laurel Hitchin. He'd never let down everyone in his life, most of all himself, and Audrey would still be alive, and Julian would still be with the bureau ---

Julian.

The guilt comes back full force, because if anyone didn't deserve the fate they got, it would be Julian. Hard working, fierce, loving Julian.

He dry-swallows another pill for good measure, shoulders his go-bag and disappears down an empty alley, unseen by cameras and cops and anyone who might recognize him.

He's not sure if he can go on like this.

He's been on the run for nearly a week now; a week of hiding, paranoia, always looking over his shoulder and ducking into the shadows. Where he once felt safe when he heard the siren of a police car, he now starts running. It's exhausting and he cowers lower into the corner of the abandoned building he's staying in tonight.

Another pill. The shivers lessen. The bottle is almost empty.

He leans his head back against the cold concrete and curses his need for justice, his stupid-ass decision of accepting this life as punishment for his actions.

No, that's not right, he thinks.

If he really was after justice, he wouldn't have run. He would have faced the consequences like a man, faced jail-time and public humiliation.

Instead, he'd been crushed by his own guilt after Prescott's death, written his confession with a shakey hand and left it on his desk, before grabbing the go-bag from the trunk of his car and running.

By morning Cooper must have found it, and in the afternoon he'd seen his face on the news. He has no idea where to go from here.

He pops another pill and curses when he reminds himself to cut back and save what little of the drugs he still has left.

---

The thing about guilt is, Ressler thinks, that despite what everyone says, it doesn't lessen over the years. He still feels guilty about ruining his brother's chance of a career as a cop, and he still feels guilty about Hitchin and Wright and Prescott and every crime Reddington committed right in front of his eyes.

He still feels guilty about what happened to Julian - the first time, after that operation in Kabul went so horribly wrong and Julian took the blame for it, both of them knowing full well that Ressler had been in charge and made the decision to fire, but being stubborn enough to convince IA that it had been his fault, handing over his badge and service weapon with an unreadable look towards Don. Maybe he did it out of some twisted sense of obligation. Maybe they were just in love and compromised. But in the end Ressler's decision had cost Julian his job and a civilian his life.

And the second time, after the whole mess with Mr. Kaplan, effectively ending Julian's career as nothing more but collateral damage. He can still feel his heart crack at that look of betrayal in Julian's eyes as they stood over the remains of Mako Tanida.

---

The other thing about guilt is that Donald doesn't know how to make amends. He knows how to follow his instincts and get himself deeper into trouble, deeper into the pit of guilt, deeper into unescapable situations. Making more and more excuses, trying to cover up all of his messes with lies that lead to more excuses, more lies, more damage.

He knows it's good that he does feel guilt in the first place. But there's only so much he can take.

He thinks about everyone he has left - Reddington, Keen, Aram, Cooper, Navabi.

He could go and find Reddington, ask him to get him out of this mess he created, but he still has some dignity left (he almost laughs at that, sitting in the dirt, close, so close again to withdrawal that his chest tightens, burdened with the undignity of all the actions that led him here). So Reddington is out. He'd only get him into some deeper shit, anyway, and he can't deal with that right now.

The taskforce is out, too. They're obligated to arrest him on sight. And after doing what he did (all the dirty work for Prescott that makes him shudder and swallow back bile), he wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes. They'd know. Another thing he can't deal with.

He can't go to his family, either; getting to Detroid would be a feat in itself, but no doubt the feds are just waiting for him to make contact with his mom or brother. He doesn't want to think about them; if he just so much as imagines his mom crying over the news of her little boy's fuck-up of a life he would only break the last remains of his heart.

Sighing, he realizes he's on his own and he closes his eyes against tears that don't come. His eyes are far too dry, and yet he feels like crying; maybe he's become too numb, but not numb enough to not care. He swallows against his dry throat, his fingers flexing around the pill bottle. He's out at sea alone, the storm raging and waves threatening to bring him down, and in the darkness, there's no lighthouse in sight, not even a candle in the window of someone who might take pity on him. He's bound to drown.

---

The next day, he runs out of pills as well as luck. He hears the shouting before seeing what's going on, and he doesn't need to round the corner to know that the cops are arresting his dealer; he hears his name. They're not after the poor sod for his arsenal of prescription-meds, they're after him. He turns around and doesn't stop running until his lungs burn and his feet ache.

---

He finally collapses behind an old factory that's been out of use seemingly forever. He vaguely remembers it from a case so many years ago, when everything was still fine and he still had dreams and hopes and Reddington hadn't crossed his way yet, Julian already by his side, Prescott a name he had no business knowing.

He remembers some nondescript arms dealers hunched over their merchandise, duffels with a ton of dollar bills and a short shoot-out that ended with the perps in cuffs and a brilliant smile from Julian. Although he couldn't see his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, he knew the twinkle in them that told him everything he needed to know.

How the fuck could he fuck up something so good?

It doesn't matter now, though. He slides down the rough walls, and a shiver rips from his spine, rocking his entire body, until it gets stuck in his hands and they can't stop trembling. Every movement hurts deep in his bones, and the shaking only makes it worse until he feels sick to his stomach and feels the bile rise.

He closes his eyes, and now the tears come.

He lets all the shame and hurt and fucking guilt wash over him, drown him until he is gasping for air, remembering --- remembering all the roads he shouldn't have taken, remembering every time he allowed Prescott to shove his dick down Donald's throat, the blood of some stranger still on their hands and clothes, and Ressler can't keep it in anymore. His stomach convulses and forces its few contents out, spattering on the dirty ground, acid in his aching throat that still remembers Prescott's assaults.

He remembers Prescott's laugh and the grip of his hand leaving bruises on his arms. He remembers burying bodies of people he knew nothing about, for a man who could be his downfall with no more effort than twitching a finger.

Ironic, how that still happened and Ressler has just reached rock-bottom while still having done everything Prescott had demanded. A fucking lose-lose-situation. Ressler would like to laugh about the stupidity of it all (of himself), but it gets stuck somewhere between his chest and vocal chords. He can never go back.

He'd always thought it would be Reddington who'd ruin him. He was wrong.

---

With the onsetting darkness comes the cold; it's the end of summer and the days are warm enough, but the nights take all the warmth and replace it with cruel emptiness and too many thoughts.

He remembers all the times their hunt for Reddington had gone wrong; all the times they'd run into another dead end; all the times an informant ended up dead --- all the times he would crawl into Julian's bed or Julian in his and they'd hold each other, seek solace and comfort and hope and the strength to move on in each other's arms.

He remembers Julian's lips on his and how, for these few moments, he'd want nothing more and could forget the job. He remembers skin on heated skin, and whispered platitudes that in that moment felt like a lifeline, and falling asleep with limbs entangled, sheltering him from nightmares and fatalistic thoughts.

He misses it. Misses it more than anything else, and it's the first time he acknowledges this feeling. He'd missed Julian for years; and then he was back again, back in that ice rink, looking at him like nothing had happened, like he still didn't blame Donald for all the shit that had happened. Maybe he really didn't. Maybe the guilt for all of that had been for nothing.

And then Julian was gone again and this time it would be irreversible. Like a lost limb, he feels his absence.

Shivering, he stares at the darkness around him, and all he wants is those strong arms around him and the scent of leather and aftershave and the scratch of Julian's stubble against his own.

He can never have that again. He doesn't deserve it, and Julian sure as Hell won't forgive him. Not for ending his career and certainly not for working with Reddington and turning a blind eye to the crimes he committed under their watch. He wouldn't even want to touch him again with all the dirt and blood on his hands from working for Prescott; wouldn't want to kiss the same lips that suffered the abuse of a ruthless killer and had swallowed it like he deserved it.

Because the truth is, maybe that's what his life has become: an unescapable, unforgivable Hell, all the pictures of what he'd done burned into his brain, behind his eyelids, on his skin where the bruises have long since faded but the dirt still remains. And maybe that's exactly what he deserves.

He crumbles under his thoughts until he lies on the ground, a shivering, hurting mess that's overflowing with guilt and self-loathing.

Julian always used to kiss it away.

---

How, when and why Donald has decided to walk up that road into the woods is lost on him.

He used to know this road, been here a few times but not in several years; it seems unchanged exept for the sky that looks a bit duller. He never walked this path before, but he didn't want to steal a car. Wouldn't know where to dump it here anyway.

He knows it's probably a dumb idea, but he's out of options by this point.

Every step is hard work and his knees are about ready to give out, shaking under the strain of carrying him for miles and miles, and even in the chilly shadows of the surrounding trees he's sweating like it's a hundred degrees out. Another shiver runs through his body that feels like it's crushing every bone on its way, and he moans as he gasps for breath.

He knows though if he stops he'll never get up again. He'll never reach the old cabin in the woods by that small lake, and he'd die by the side of the small, muddy road. He's not ready for that, though.

---

It's late afternoon when he gets off the main road and takes the small footpath that leads to the cabin in a few hundred yards. The sun is much hotter now and although he can feel her warmth on his skin, he feels cold and clammy and miserable, fighting shiver after shiver and losing hard.

All he wants to do is curl up into a tight ball and die, but he's not gonna give up, not now, even though he knows that he's making a massive mistake here, but he doesn't care. It's like he's too far gone to acknowledge that fact and all his common sense has left him along with the contents of his stomach last night; he can't shove it back and, frankly, what does it matter? He can't fall any deeper.

So he stumbles on, struggling over rocks and branches, his feet numb except for the occasional flare of pain that still reaches his brain and he can't quite manage to shut out.

Then it comes into sight and he breathes out, a pained, wheezing sound that makes his head spin, and suddenly he feels sick because he knows he has made the wrong decision; he should go. He should turn around and collapse by the road and wither away like a fallen leaf.

The cabin is still like he remembers it from years ago; it belonged to Julian's father before he'd died, a nice little place far out in the woods that's perfect for a weekend-trip. Julian used to tell him stories of coming here with his dad to fish and hunt, back in the day before everything had turned to shit between them, before he came out as gay and his father stopped talking to him altogether.

He knows Julian is here; he's seen the old Ford parked by the road close to the small footpath. He also knows he's not welcome, just as he knows that he won't have anything left if Julian rejects him and throws him back onto the street he came from.

Feeling his knees wobble, he pushes on before he can give in to the seducing urge to let himself fall to the ground and curl up to die. He can still do that afterwards.

Another few steps and he's around the cabin where he can see the small lake, a pond really, with the wooden terrace right by the water; on it stands a deserted deck chair, but the bottle of beer that sits right next to it is still half-full, so Julian must be back any minute.

He leans heavily on the wall of the cabin and feels his strength bleed away. A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and along his nose as he lets his head fall, the strain in his neck too much for his muscles to hold it up anymore. Catching his breath is difficult when his lungs don't want to take in any much needed air and his chest feels too tight, like the collar of his dirty white t-shirt is strangling him, and he raises a violently shaking hand to his chest, ignoring the creaking of his joints as he does so.

Shit, this is worse than he'd thought. The hand that isn't clutching his shirt automatically wanders towards his pants pocket. It's empty. Of course it's empty. He's out of pills. He panicks at that because how in the world is he supposed to survive ---

when he hears a gun cock and forces himself to look up into Julian's face.

He looks good - always does - and his stubble is almost a beard now; his hair has grown too and Donald just wants to breathe it in. He wears sunglasses (of course, it's still bright outside and his eyes are just so damn sensitive), and his brow is deeply furrowed, his mouth a thin line that tells Donald just how welcome he is here.

"Don?", he asks, voice raspy like he hasn't spoken in a long time. Maybe he hasn't, but Ressler isn't naïve enough to blame any emotion for the roughness.

"Hey", he says, and he feels the world sway from the effort of holding himself up, so he grabs for the wall again, temporarily borrowing stability from the wooden structure. He doesn't even want to know how awful he must look, all sweaty and dirty and miserable, shaking and fighting just to keep standing.

"What do you want?", Julian asks, words hard and the gun still pointed at Ressler.

He looks at Julian, helpless to say anything, devoid of all words, and he realizes he doesn't know how to answer that question. He opens his mouth in the hopes of being able to bring out anything at all when a shudder runs through his body, leaving him breathless and on the ground. For a second all he knows is the pain of too much and too little at the same time that grinds his bones to dust and cuts through his muscles effortlessly. He thinks he groans in pain, but can't tell over the static in his ears.

"Fuck", he hears at the edge of his consciousness, "Don!"

And when he looks up, Julian is gone from where he stood before, instead there are arms steadying him from face-planting into the muddy ground. He leans heavily into those arms that promise comfort and solace and strength.

"Julian", Don rasps out, and he looks up to see Julian close, so close, worry visible even behind the sunglasses, and he has to close his eyes as a rush of emotion threatens to overcome him. This is it. This is all he wanted.

"Don't talk now, okay? I'm callin' an ambulance." And that's wrong. He can't do that, Ressler can't go to the hospital, not when he's on every wanted-list in the city ---

"Don't", he whispers and swallows against the bile. Julian looks at him like he's lost his mind, but there's still so much worry. "Don't", Donald repeats. He doesn't know how else to communicate this.

"Okay", Julian says flatly, still sceptical. "You mind tellin' me though why the fuck you're here?"

Ressler looks away, tries to ignore the black dots that creep into his vision.

"I'm sorry", he says, and he means it. Hopes that Julian understands, because Ressler doesn't know if he has the strength or the words to really explain himself here. "I didn't know where else to go."

Julian just nods, waiting for him to continue while Donald shivers in his arms and doesn't know how to go on.

"I fucked up", he finally says, and Julian laughs at that; a humorless, dry laugh that settles itself deep into what's left of Don's bones, a laugh that sends waves of guilt through his chest. He looks to the ground and tries not to break down under the weight of it.

"Yeah, you did", Julian says and there's an edge to his voice that's dangerous and hurt and speaks of everything Ressler has put him through. "And I'm really fucking close to tell you to go to Hell."

His eyes burn holes into Donald's skin until he's sure that Julian must be able to see his insides now, the rotten flesh and the dirt and the blood and all the shame and guilt he's never gonna be able to wash away.

"Not gonna do that though. Seems like you're already there."

Don lets his head fall and at this point he can't tell sweat from tears or blood or vomit or dirt; it's all there on his skin, whether remembered or real he doesn't know. All he knows is that it's disgusting, he's disgusting, he's dirty and has done unforgivable things and yet Julian is still holding him up, still touching him --- His head drops and he closes his eyes against the spinning world.

"C'mon", Julian says quietly, "let's get you cleaned up. You look like you could need a drink too, something to eat. And then you're gonna tell me what's going on before I change my mind. You alright with that?"

Donald just nods. At least he thinks he does.

He feels Julian's grip tighten, and together they manage to get Donald on his feet; he sways unsteadily, but Julian's hands are still there, grounding him against the nausea, keeping him from falling over as he clenches his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness and pain that rips through him.

"Hey, wait", he blurts out when Julian nudges him to move. "You don't - you don't have to do this, Julian. I won't blame you if -", he takes a deep breath, trying to organize his blurry thoughts, "- if you... y'know. Wanna throw me out on the street. Let me rot."

Julian looks at him long and hard, his face unreadable, and Donald wonders when that changed. He used to be able to read him flawlessly, back in the day.

"I know", he says eventually, "and believe me, I have every reason to, but... let's just get inside 'n' sort this out, yeah?"

He nods.

The inside of the cabin looks exactly the way he remembers it from the few times Julian has taken him here. Cozy and warm, soft light through the small windows, wooden table in the middle of the room - with all kinds of stuff on it, bottles and tools and newspapers - surrounded by self-made wooden chairs; it's only one room, and in the corner is still the old bed with the worn through mattress that he remembers very vividly (it's softer than it looks, the pillows under his hips fluffy, the scent of whiskey from Julian's lips and resin from all around him filling his senses ---) Julian drags him to the bed; Don is glad that Julian keeps his hands on his shoulders for a few more moments. He doesn't trust his body to sit on its own and not fall over. He takes a few deep breaths - the smell of whiskey and resin still lingers in the cabin and if he closes his eyes, he might be able to pretend nothing has happened and he's back to when all was good. He doesn't close his eyes. Needs the punishment of seeing an older version of Julian and that glimmer in his eyes that betrays the cold anger he tries to project. In here, it's easier reading him. The sunglasses have landed on the table in the mixture of things, and breathing is just that much easier now. Funny how brown eyes can have that effect on him. Or maybe it's just Julian's eyes. "You okay? Or are ya gonna topple over as soon as I let go?", Julian asks. His hands burn where they touch Ressler's shoulders - even through the shirt - and he feels like their heat is spreading all the way through his arms, mending his broken bones with a painful grip that makes him gasp. "It's alright", he says. His voice sounds strange, somehow distorted and raw, and when Julian lifts his hands it's like ice fills all the places that were on fire just seconds before, crushing him, burning even worse. He bites his lip. "'Kay", Julian murmurs, and then he turns around to get a bottle of water and --- and he opens up one of the cabinets and pulls out a small, brownish-yellow pill bottle --- his heart is beating so fast now he thinks he might throw up, and every fibre in his body screams Want! Want! Want! --- his muscles pulling on him, willing him to move, to get to the pills, down them all, swallow them, no regrets, make the trembling stop and the sweating and the shivers, undo the damage to his body, unbreak his bones, untear his sinews --- His mouth falls open. He can already feel it: the texture and the form of the little white pill against his tongue, the short moment when he swallows, the high he's chasing - no, no, it's not that anymore, it's never been that; it's always been about numbing the pain until it wasn't, until it was just about avoiding the come down. But right now he can feel the high, the anticipation, being so close to victory --- "Don?" And he wants to tell Julian to shut up, to just give him the pills, but he's the one who holds the bottle, he has the power in this moment and fuck, Ressler would do everything, anything, get on his knees or on all fours and just take it (flashes of Prescott assault his mind at that, and he gasps audibly because Julian is not Prescott, far from it, and he just wants his brain to shut the fuck up, to stop, knowing the pills will do that, they'll fucking save him from his own thoughts) --- "Hey, man - what's going on?" It's Julian's voice again, so much nearer now, burning hot hands holding him together as Donald crumbles. He collapses like a frail burning building, the last beams that were holding it together now nothing more than a pyre of grief and lost hope. He trembles against Julian's chest, his hands clinging to Julian's shirt, hurting from the exhaustion of cramping around the scratchy material but unable to let go, his head tucked under Julian's chin where he crouches in front of Donald on the floor. He wants to cry or to scream or to lash out, but all the energy he has left is unfocused, is mainly the never ending chant of Want! Want! Want! beneath his skin. "Fuck", he grinds out, and it's the hardest thing for him right

now, but he has Julian's arms around him and can feel his lips in his hair and smell leather and aftershave and --- Julian hasn't let him go yet. He hasn't pushed him away yet; is still touching him, unafraid, not yet disgusted. Then again, he doesn't know what Donald has done. "Hey, hey", Julian breathes against Ressler's temple, "it's okay, Don, it's - it's alright. It's gonna be alright..." Don shakes his head, takes a stuttering breath. "It's not, it's -", he starts, and his hands shake so hard now he's afraid of hurting Julian, "it's all gone to shit, okay? Nothing's alright, and - it's all my fault. It's all my fault, Julian, just ---" He doesn't know what he's saying, only that he needs to get it out. He needs to let Julian know how sorry he is, how much he wishes he could go back and do it all differently, how much he wants Gale to be happy. "Easy", Julian whispers, and now his hands are stroking up and down Don's spine and he feels like a child, but also safer than he has in a long time. This, right here, is his shelter in the storm, a place to wait out the worst of it before he can go home. Only that he doesn't know where home is anymore. Not that it matters. He has his self-imposed punishment to serve. They sit there for a while, until Ressler's breathing is less ragged and his body is limp with exhaustion and his hands uncramp around Julian's shirt. "You need to drink something", Julian says, his voice far too soft, and somewhere deep inside of him Ressler just wants Julian to yell at him, to beat him, to show him exactly how he's felt the last couple of years. Let out all the anger and frustration and disgust he must be feeling. Add his loathing to the pyre burning away at Donald's insides. Julian shuffles away, keeping one steadying hand on Ressler's shoulder, the other reaching for the glass of water he must have put on the ground besides him when Donald collapsed. "Here", he murmurs and holds the glass up to Don's lips. Donald doesn't even try to take it from him, his trembling hands trapped between his thighs. The water is refreshing and he's sure he could drink an entire river - his mouth and throat aren't longer as dry, his heaving stomach slowly settles, his over-heated skin seems to cool a little. When the glass is empty, Julian sets it aside and takes a hard look at Don. "Better?", he asks. Behind the hard, cold glare his gaze is so open, so vulnerable now that Don has to look away. "Yeah", he nods. "Thanks." He doesn't know where Julian has put the pill bottle, but it's probably back in the cabinet. There's no way Julian could have misinterpreted Donald's behaviour. "So." Donald looks up again. He can still feel the sweat on his forehead, on his neck, chest, everywhere, but now it's cooler, and if the temperature keeps dropping as quickly he will surely freeze to death. He doesn't know though if it's the change of seasons or his own body. "Guess I owe you an explanation", Donald murmurs. He's tired suddenly, so tired he can feel it in his bones. Like he's two hundred years old, an ancient tree about to die. "You bet your ass you do." With that Julian gets up off the ground, refills the glass, sets it on the table and sits down next to Donald on the bed. He sits further away than he used to, the gap between them like a fucking canyon that Don could throw himself in to to break every bone in his body yet again, for the last time. He won't though. He owes Julian that much. "So?", Julian asks when the silence stretches too long. But Donald doesn't know where to start, doesn't even know what to say except for I'm sorry and forgive me and I love you. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry again, his heartbeat picking up its pace, beating uncomfortably against his too tight ribcage. "I'm sorry", he begins, and when he looks at Julian, his face is impassive and schooled. He expects more. Of course he does, Donald thinks, and he deserves it, deserves more, deserves everything. He's just not sure he can give that. "I ruined your life", he says. Looks down at his hands and how

they shake where they're trapped between his knees. "Again", he adds and the corner of his mouth twitches in a humorless attempt at a smile. "You should never have paid for what we - what I did. The whole Reddington-thing. I justified it with all the good we did, all the cases we solved, the criminals we put behind bars, but... you were right. The price was too high. It was doomed from the start... All the people who died, Julian, all those good people --- I don't know if it was worth it." He looks up into Julian's face. It's not as passive and unreadable as before; now there's a glint of pity, a tiny spark of anger, the smallest sign of resignation. "And - and to think I betrayed all my principles for that taskforce. All I ever stood for - wanted to stand for. Fuck, I'm... I just... I just wanna go back, Julian. I just wanna start over. Forget about - about Reddington and Prescott and Hitchin and - Audrey. Fuck, Audrey... I should have known then. I should have quit back then." He buries his face in his hands. There are no tears, but the shame that's crawling up his spine and spreading through every inch of his body is threatening to overwhelm him. "What happened to her?", Julian asks quietly, his voice impossibly soft. He knows about them. About their far too early engagement, about the stubbornness with which Donald had tried to love her just to get over the fact that Julian was gone from his life. About his need to prove that he was okay. "She's dead. She was killed. She'd still be alive if it wasn't for Reddington." "I'm sorry", Julian says after a moment of silence. He sounds genuine, even though Ressler knows how Julian feels about Audrey. Or used to feel, anyway. And now, Donald doesn't know what else to say. Knows there's so much, too much to talk about, but he doesn't know where to start. He wants to tell Julian about Hitchin and Prescott and those brief moments with Reddington - in the box and in a hotel room in Washington and the whole long flight from Munich back to the states. Donald takes a deep breath; it's not like that makes any difference because his lungs still seem incapable of taking in enough oxygen for him to survive. How he's still conscious, he doesn't know, but it's probably just his mind playing tricks with him. And all the while, Julian looks at him with patience that's bordering on resignation, and sadness he might be mistaking for grief about the people they could have been. The love they could have shared, the lives they could have lived. All those things Ressler never gave himself time to grieve for, but are returning with a vengeance now, cutting him up, sucking him dry, suffocating him in their thick reality. "I deserved it", he finally croaks, his voice strangled by everything he's lost, and he clears his throat. "Everything I got in the end, I deserved it." He stares at his hands that are trapped between his knees, feels them tremble, and when he looks back up at Julian, the other man is suddenly closer than he was before. The canyon between them is nothing more than a crack in the pavement now, their legs not yet touching, Julian's heat a welcome comfort against Don's clammy pale skin, and it still feels like it's not enough, like nothing he could do could ever be enough, and as much as he detests the thought that this might be the closest Julian will let himself get to Don, he also revels in the almost-touches and the dark gazes and the fact that this, too, is something he painfully deserves: the one person he never stopped loving to be entirely unreachable. He thinks back to the good times and how easy it was to just reach out and take any comfort he needed. The sleepless nights in those dingy motel rooms they spent staring out the window at the starry sky or at each other, the moments of warmth and solitude, bodies wrapped around each other like they're one, soft breath in his ear, dry lips on skin, rough fingers entangled, squeezing, comforting. Thinks back to that night in Manila, when Julian stood before Donald's door at three in the morning, dark bags under

his eyes, arms wrapped tightly around his chest to prevent him from falling apart; later it would be Don's arms holding him together. Thinks back to that morning in New York that should have been entirely unpleasant with the stink and the broken heater in the middle of January and the noise even so early, but with Julian's sleeping form next to him - so peaceful and full of beauty -, he wished it could always be like this. He doesn't think back to the time they said goodbye, or the time Julian almost died from a bullet in his stomach, or the countless times they sat at each other's hospital beds. He doesn't think about the last time they kissed, the last time they made love, the last time they hugged, the last time there wasn't this edge to Julian's voice that tells Donald that things will never be the same. He certainly doesn't think about the future. "And what is it you got? What is it you think you deserve? 'Cause I see you sitting here like, like death warmed over and I can't imagine what the Hell you could've done to deserve... well, this." Julian's voice is rougher than usual; Donald doesn't know if it's because of the emotion he swallows so successfully or because he's smoking more than he used to or because this is the first time in a long time that he's speaking to somebody. Donald draws in another sharp breath. His lungs aren't exactly cooperating, but it doesn't matter as long as he can still explain. "I think I need some air", he says, voice barely more than a whisper. He sees Julian nod out of the corner of his eye, and together they manage to walk outside. It's weird, a little, how much better he feels and how much easier it is to talk, to move, to breathe, ever since arriving in the cabin. Just a few hours ago he was almost certain he'd be dying in a ditch right about now. It's gotten dark outside; the sun hasn't disappeared fully yet, but through the trees that surround the cabin and the pond it's impossible to make out. Julian sits him down in the deck chair Donald had noticed earlier, the opened bottle of beer that's still sitting beside it now forgotten. Don takes a deep breath. It's easier now, out here. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Julian setting up a second chair next to the one Donald is sitting on. They both lean forward, elbows on their knees, Ressler's head hanging, Gale watching him with sharp eyes. Donald shakes his head; to think how easily all this could have been avoided! If he hadn't taken the job with the taskforce, none of this would have happened. Or if he'd been honest sooner, if he'd talked to Julian when the whole Mr. Kaplan-mess started instead of betraying him --- "That, right there, what you just said, is why I love you." He can still hear those words loud and clear in his head, recalling that moment with absolute clarity even if most of his other thoughts and memories are blurry from exhaustion and pain. The way they just came over Julian's lips, so simple, so easy, like they were picking up from where they'd left, still sends goosebumps over his arms and back; he remembers the painful tightening of his chest back then, and his mind going completely blank, and deciding to overplay his nerves with a lame joke and getting back to work as quickly as possible. He remembers hope bubbling up in the back of his ribcage, and laying awake that night overthinking those words. Overthinking the whole situation while pushing away his guilt. He hated lying to Julian then, and he hates where it has gotten him. He remembers cursing Julian's mind, always so quick and clever, and he remembers cursing Reddington time and time again. He purposely doesn't remember all the times he thought about the Concierge instead of Julian when he was alone in his bed. It feels like another betrayal all over again. And he remembers being on the verge of asking how much truth lay behind Julian's words more than once but always pulling back at the last second. Maybe he'll never know, now. "Don?" He remembers that he needs to talk. His mind feels almost bruised by the

onslaught of memories ever since he's seen Julian for the first time in so long. "Yeah. Sorry." He takes another deep breath, now easier out here, and leans back in his chair, tired eyes focusing on the patches of darkening skies through the crowns of the trees. A sense of tranquility fills his whole body and the shivers cease to shake him. "You were right about Mako Tanida. His head. Reddington - Reddington gave it to me as a gift." He closes his eyes for a second and sees the severed head in the box as if it happened yesterday instead of almost six years ago. He shudders and opens his eyes again, back to watching the gentle breeze shifting through the leaves and branches. He doesn't look over at Julian. "Some sort of... sick compensation for Audrey's death." He pauses at that, thinking back at Audrey and how he barely remembers her face now even though he knows he should. It gives Julian time to piece it together. He doesn't say a word though, intent on letting Donald speak. "It makes me sick now. But that's Reddington, you know? He lulls you in and there's nothing you can do about it. -- Objectively, I knew what we were doing, and I was justifying it with all the high-profile arrests we did. But... I don't know, man, he was under my skin and I only realized it when it was too late. He's like this... spider. Sucks you dry as soon as you're caught in his net. And it doesn't stop until someone worse comes along and ---" He stops speaking then, dropping his head, unable to find the words to convey Prescott's cruelty, his depravity that became Donald's own. A hand on his shoulder makes him look up; Julian is watching him, his gaze a strange mix between a cold distance and warm empathy. "What happened?", he asks. As if his hand doesn't burn Don's flesh where it touches him over his shirt, as if he doesn't know the repercussions of this gesture, as if he can't even imagine what it means to Don that he's touching him out of his own accord, not yet fleeing, not yet disgusted, but full of love and comfort and everything Donald doesn't deserve. They stay quiet for a short while, Don watching how the cold distance transforms to something new, something like pity, but not exactly. Maybe curiosity with a touch of sadness. Like he wants to hear the answer and doesn't. Like he wants to know what made Don come here but doesn't want to hear it. Like he knows it could change everything between them, all the anger he's been carrying with him since the ice rink-case melting away, leaving only the torn pieces of his old love. "Laurel Hitchin", Donald says quietly. Another shiver runs through his body as he feels Julian's hand falling away. They're silent again; Don trying to figure out how to confess a murder and all the shit that followed it, and Julian thinking about how Hitchin might as well have fired him. She may have been an awful person, but she didn't deserve to die. In Don's experience, there's no one who deserves to die; at least that used to be his opinion. He's not so sure about it now. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but that's where they stay. He can't push them over the edge, can't make his vocal chords work and his lips form the vowels and consonants. He tries in vain, again and again, until Julian is looking at him again like he knows Donald's struggle. "She's dead", Julian says, tone neutral, and Don can't read from it how much Julian knows or at least suspects. He nods. Remembers her laying on her kitchen floor, pool of blood growing larger second by sickening second. "I didn't mean to ---", he stammers, and Julian's eyes grow wide like he didn't expect this confession. "Shit", he breathes and rubs a hand over his face. It stops over his mouth and chin and he looks straight ahead into the darkness that has settled around them like their own private bubble where there's room for confessions and guilt and maybe even forgiveness; room that the bright sun of the day doesn't allow. "That's why you're such a mess? Jesus, Don,

I ---" But he doesn't continue. Donald doesn't want to hear another I'm sorry from Julian, and he doesn't want to hear that he's fucked up either. He just wants to forget. "It gets worse", he says and Julian looks up, surprise and pain and dread lining his features, and he suddenly looks much older than he is. Still beautiful, and Don has to swallow against the sudden feeling of belonging that rises in his chest; like he's home, like this has been his home all along, and it will be until they're old and grey and dying of old age in each others' arms --- only that it's a fantasy, a feverish dream he's having. Before Don can continue though, Julian stands up and disappears inside the cabin without another word. He can't blame him. With a sigh he stays where he is, watching the sky again that's now completely dark, and he doesn't know if he isn't actually watching the invisible dance of the trees. His mind is completely blank now and it's a more than welcome change. Before he knows it, Julian is back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Wordlessly, he gives one of the already opened bottles to Don who takes it with only slightly shaking hands, then sits back down, takes a gulp of beer, puts it down on the ground beside his chair, and takes a cigarette out of the pack. He offers one to Don but he declines with a shake of his head. The small flame of the lighter makes Julian's face flicker orange and yellow, the shadows making the lines on his forehead and around his eyes and mouth dance and seem deeper than in the light of day. For the few seconds it lasts, he looks almost angelic in a rough, strange way. "I called the cleaner who used to work for her", he says before he can think about it. "His name's Henry Prescott." The smell of burnt tobacco lulls him in, like they're back in Julian's old apartment, in his bed after an evening of slow sex, bliss and heavy limbs and soft words forever interlinked with it. It almost makes the bile that's threatening to rise after the mention of Prescott's name stay down. Julian's eyes are on him again, calmer now, but also more distanced than before. Don can barely make them out through the dark of night, but from experience he knows Gale won't say any more. He needs all the facts, and Don's the only one who can provide those. He looks back to where the lake must be, now an invisible black hole between the equally black woods. He thinks it must be easy now that he's started, but the words won't come, his mind preoccupied with keeping the images at bay, the memories of dead bodies and blood and the smell of bleach and ammonia. He closes his eyes for a minute, the shivers returning, rocking his body against his will, and he's going to be sick if the stink of chemicals doesn't leave his nose soon --- He wishes Julian would touch him again, ground him somehow like he used to, but he doesn't. Don doesn't look up either. He needs to carry on. "He found out who I was", he says eventually, strangled, struggling to keep talking. "Blackmailed me into working for him." He rubs his free hand over his face, pressing down over his eyes to get rid of the images and the smell, and for a moment it's like Julian isn't even there, like he's not listening, like Don can say anything he wants to the dark emptiness he's surrounded by. He takes a few gulps of the beer but doesn't set it down. "Fuck, I --- the things I did. The shit I was forced to do and I, I didn't even fight it. I was too afraid to - I don't know, lose my job, my reputation, my friends", it breaks out of him now, and a laugh forces its way through his constricted throat at the irony of the words. He feels Julian shift next to him, reminding Don of his presence, but he doesn't turn to look at him. "I did every fucking thing he told me to. Drove around dead bodies in car trunks. Buried and unburied them. Scrubbed blood off walls and carpets and beds. --- How the fuck can anyone forgive me for that? How can you?" He takes another large sip of the beer, now risking a glance at

Julian. His cigarette has almost burnt down completely, leaving a tail of ash threatening to fall onto Julian's lap; he hasn't taken a drag since Don has started speaking. Instead he's looking at Donald, almost staring through him, and Don doesn't know what to make of that. He doesn't think he's ever seen that expression on Julian. "I should never have come", he says curtly because he can't face the silence now. "I'm sorry. I should never have -- I guess I know now that I deserved it." The calm that settles in his bones surprises him. He looks back up to the sky, clear and beautiful where it shines through the trees, and now he can make out tiny bright dots, stars spattered across it like the splashes of watercolor over paper when he was a kid. He can feel tears behind his eyes and he knows this is the last time he will be home. Knows it's the last time he gets to feel something other than guilt and dread. Maybe he should get up and leave now, having done enough damage as it is, but something inside him urges him to stay, to tell Julian the whole truth, make him understand. He needs Julian to tell him to fuck off; needs his rejection to be at peace and go home. Somewhere, anyway. "He didn't stop there", he says, and he knows it's his only chance to ever articulate it; if he doesn't say it now he'll be silent forever. Besides him, Julian tenses. He's been tense for the last couple of minutes, but now his back is straight in a way that it almost never is, but Donald needs to get those next few words out. He feels strangely detached from his body and mind and memories. "Sometimes he would force me on my knees, make me suck him off", he starts, and it's easier to say it out loud than it should be, "and sometimes he would bend me over the hood of the car or tie me to the bed post in whatever hotel he'd stay in. I took it every time. I thought I didn't have a choice." And he's smiling now, the weight on his shoulders, his lungs, his mind so much lighter, and he doesn't even mind the trembling of his hands, of his whole body. He just lets it happen. "Until my conscience finally made me put a stop to it. I arrested him. Wrote my confession. And left. But I'm still too much of a coward to face the consequences, instead I'm running from everything." He lets his head fall. This shouldn't be this easy, he tells himself, but then again, with Julian nothing is as it should be. "Swallowing one pill after the other, sleeping in the mud, always looking over my shoulder. That's no life. That's - that's Hell, Julian." Finally, he looks back at his old love, a flood of emotions racing through him like a tsunami, and he chokes out: "I deserve it. All of it. What Prescott did to me. I gotta live with it. I'm ---" But the words die on his lips as he feels Julian's arms around his neck, and hot breath against his ear, and fingers tangling in his hair. He stops breathing for a few seconds, brain catching up with the sensations, and Julian is embracing him like he knows it's the last time, or like he's sorry, or like his life depends on it. "Just so you know", Julian rasps against Don's cheek, "I really fucking want to punch you right now. I wanna - wanna throw you against the wall and just - punch you until I can't move my arm anymore. Okay? Got that?" Donald nods silently, still stunned by the sudden embrace. He didn't think Julian would ever want to touch him again, wouldn't even want to be near him again. "No one", Julian says, "No one - deserves shit like that." And then he stammers like he wants to say every word he knows at the same time while simultaneously not knowing what to say altogether, before giving up with a hissed "Fuck". Don knows this, knows that sometimes, Julian's brain is faster than his mouth, and then he stumbles over words like an excited child. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, huh?", he asks quietly, still not letting go, and now Don puts the bottle down and returns the embrace. Carefully, very carefully, like he might freak Julian out, like he might realize then what he's doing and

drop Donald like a hot potato. Donald shakes his head no; doesn't want to be dropped, not now, not when he's this close to Julian; shakes his head because he doesn't know what he's supposed to do now either. The idea that's been in the back of his head, whose existence he completely ignored until now, that's probably the reason he came here in the first place, creeps into his consciousness now, and his grip around Julian's ribs tightens. "I just--- wanted to apologize for everything I did to you. I ruined your career, your life. I lied to you, I betrayed you. And I'm so sorry, Julian, I'm - I'm so fucking sorry." He loosens his grip again so he can look at Julian who looks up. His eyes are wet and dark and so damn beautiful, and now they're only inches apart. He could kiss him now, ruin everything all over again for a short moment of bliss, but he doesn't. "Me too", Julian says quietly, and his voice is soft like torn velvet. "I wish you wouldn't have come here. Let me keep my anger. But I guess you have this way of making me forgive everything you do. You're impossible, Don, you know that and I, just, hate you so, so much right now, I fucking - I hate you so much ---" "I know", Don whispers against Julian's cheek as their faces are pressed together, stubble against stubble, words escaping them that neither of them hears, lips against skin, not exactly kissing, but mouthing apologies and curses that get lost in the night. "I was so angry for so long, thinking about you, and the shit you did, the - the way it had to end", Julian rasps, tension falling off his body, too tired to keep on shivering. "I kept asking myself why the fuck you'd work with him --- how you could stand looking Reddington in the eye day after day and not - not see all that he cost us. Except I realised you did see, and you just didn't care." "Julian, I ---", he interrupts, but Julian keeps talking. "And I took that as justification to curse you and to hate you, and I did, you know, I really did, but... then I realised it was Reddington and I -- I chalked you up as just another casualty, another person he ruined, because you - you might just as well have been dead, you know? I fucking buried you." Julian chokes a little at that, but his grip at the back of Don's head doesn't weaken. "I know him, Don, I, uh, I know how he is. How he will put you under his spell and pull you in and never let go. Just... Just tell me this." And he looks up again, eyes red rimmed even in the darkness, and Don wants nothing more than to kiss those tears away, but he can't. He owes Julian, and even though he doesn't know what he wants to ask, he knows he needs to give an honest answer. No more lies. No more. Julian's searching his face and seems to have found what he's been looking for when he finally speaks up again after long moments of silence. "Did you love him?" The question should surprise Donald. It doesn't. He looks down, unable to meet Julian's unrelenting gaze. Thinks back to the box and the hotel room in Washington and the flight from Munich back to the states. Slowly, without looking up, he nods. No more lies. Here it comes. "Yeah", he says quietly even though he knows Julian has seen his nod. "I did. But never like I loved you." The words just come, mindlessly spilling over his lips, and he means them; he still doesn't look up. Doesn't want to see the disgust and rejection in Julian's eyes. The moment stretches like someone stopped time, stopped the entire universe, and Donald doesn't mind one bit. If it means having this last moment with Julian, even if it's filled with uncertainty, he'll gladly spend eternity frozen in time like this. Julian's fingers are still in his hair, his gaze still focussed on Donald. He's still though, not moving, and if it wasn't for his heavy breath, Don would have thought Julian might really be frozen. Then the moment ends. "Okay", Julian says, simple but heavy, like this truth lifted some weight off of him that Donald didn't know Julian was carrying. He looks up now, unable to keep his

gaze away any longer, and he doesn't know what to make of Julian's expression. There's no disgust. There's no rejection. There's understanding and sadness locked away in the tears that are sticking to his eyelashes, shimmering in the pale light of the moon that's slowly beginning to shine through the trees. Donald doesn't understand it; Julian is supposed to be upset, angry, pushing him away, throwing him out on the street to rot --- not drawing soothing circles over the back of his head, not looking at him like that, like they can fix this, like Donald is finally home --- "I'm, uh... I'm going to the police. Tonight. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. My sad attempt to make things right." He has to look away again, Julian's focussed, open gaze too much for him. "Guess I couldn't... leave without having told you. And I'm - I'm not asking for forgiveness here. I know I can never have that. I just needed to see you. Make sure you're alright, so..." He clears his throat, realizing that they've only been talking about him and never once about Julian. Fuck, how egoistic can he be! "How're you doing?", he asks, and Julian is still clinging to him, just as he's clinging to Julian. "Oh, I'm fine", Julian laughs, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Julian -", Donald starts. He doesn't need his bullshit now. "Really, Don, things couldn't be better. I've read that in my horoscope." He still smiles, a little crooked like he's holding something back, something big, and now Ressler's hand comes up to cup Julian's face. Again, the thought of just kissing him comes to mind, but they're so fragile, both of them, it would only leave them shattered for good. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke the thick stubble and he doesn't say a word. Julian closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, and for a few precious moments, Donald can pretend they're happy. "Stay", Julian says and Donald freezes. Thinks he must have misheard Julian, who looks up now from where he kneels in front of Don's chair, his own hand leaving the blonde hair to rest at Don's jaw. "What?", he asks. It's more of a breath though, no sound escaping his lips. "I'm - yeah, I'm fucking pissed at you right now, but all of this... it - it doesn't change anything. Y'know, I still mean it." And they're so close still, and Donald has lost track of what's happening, and confused, he shakes his head. "What do you mean?", he asks. "Trondheim. Remember that?" He does. It was the beginning of March and so cold even the hotel room in New York with the broken heater seemed like a tropical vacation in comparison. It wasn't the first time they said I love you, but it was the first time they talked about the future. Before, they would stay in the moment, too afraid of letting go, of losing the other over naïve fantasies of a life together. That night though, they didn't need to be scared. "Whatever happens", Julian said, "I'll never walk away. How could I, huh? Guess I'm too far gone." He smiled, and so did Donald, pressing a kiss to Julian's collarbone. "Fifty years from now", Julian continued, "I'll still think of you. Every fucking day." That earned him a kiss on the lips, chaste and innocent and full of love like they've never experienced before. "Don't matter if you're still with me or not. You don't forget the love of your life, Donnie. I won't forget. Not us. Not this. Never. I could never let you go. Ever." But back then, Julian couldn't have imagined where they would end up one day. "It was different back then", Don says. Not because he doesn't want Julian's words to be true, but because he doesn't think himself worth them. "Yeah, it was", Julian answers, "but tell me you don't feel it still. Tell me, Donnie, and I'll let you go." Donald's answer is silence because, yes, of course he still feels it, that love that's deeper than any feeling he's ever known, deeper even than the shame and guilt and pain of the recent months, years, but doesn't Julian know that it's pointless? That Don's life is over? The silence stretches on and he can't hold

Julian's gaze. "I know", Julian says, "I know." And those words are enough to set him free, to liberate him from his cage of anger and self-pity and guilt and self-imposed punishment - he knows those won't go away anytime soon, but he still feels like breaking down, mercy too much to handle when he knows he's undeserving of forgiveness. He lets his head fall, knowing Julians hands are there to steady him. They do, cradling him like a newborn child, and in a way that might be true: maybe, somehow, this can be a new life, a new start for him; a clean slate. Maybe now, he can forget all of it, all the shit that happened, the person he was - the person he was forced to become --- maybe this is the one chance in life for rebirth. "I'm a mess", he says. "I know", Julian answers. "We can figure it out. Together." "You deserve better." "Shut it now, Donnie. I think I know best what I deserve, huh? I've given up everything for you, y'know, twice. You know what I think it is I deserve? Hm? What we deserve?" Donald looks up, feeling Julian's breath against his lips as much as the intensity of his gaze, those brown eyes so familiar in their depth it makes his heart ache. He wants to answer, say something, anything at all, but no words will leave his lips. He feels trapped there between Julian's closeness and the chair, but there's no place he'd rather be. He holds Julian's gaze for a few moments before shaking his head. "Peace, Donnie. I think we deserve peace after all this. Just a little, don't you think?" And that sounds good, far too good to be true, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. "Yeah", he says finally, voice constricting, "I want that. I want that, Julian." A smile is still tugging at the corners of his mouth when Julian kisses him, slow and unsure and not at all like the many kisses they used to share; it's like a first kiss, a promise for an uncertain future, a vow to try. To give it time and let wounds heal - they're all they have, after all. "You're not going to the police", Julian says as they part. "We will figure this out. Get you clean. And in fifty years we'll still be here, okay, I won't lose you again, I couldn't, couldn't bury you again, I'll ---" And as Donald kisses the doubts and fears away, for the first time in years he has the feeling that everything might turn out okay; that he might be deserving of happiness after all. That finally, finally he's home. _______________________________________

[nkatr84]

Obi Wan/female reader one shot : Waiting part 1/2

When the reader is sixteen, she starts working as a waitress at Dex’s Diner. On her first day, she meets the love of her life. There’s just one problem. He’s a Jedi...

It had been a hectic first day. But you wouldn’t complain. Dex liked that about you. You just did what you were told. Buckled down, smiled at customers and only messed up one order so far. You just prayed to the Force that your natural clumsiness wouldn’t flare up.

The Force had a sense of humor.

One minute Dex had left the kitchens to chat with an old friend. Ordering a round of milkshakes. After setting the third milkshake on the tray, you carefully brought it out of the kitchen. But no sooner had you stepped out into the main dining room, the door of the kitchen swung forward knocking into your feet.

Your feet tripped over themselves and as your body twisted you gasped, seeing the tray flying, the milkshakes up in the air. But as you braced yourself for impact, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you.

You peeked open one eye. Then both eyes opened as you took in the sparkling blue eyes looking down at you in concern. It was a boy about your age. And he was gorgeous. Chiseled jaw just losing its baby fat. A perfect nose. You noticed two moles. One on his cheek and one on his forehead. Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He gently asked, his voice a smooth, refined accent of the upper levels of Coruscant.

“Never better...” you gasped catching your breath. But then you noticed his haircut. Auburn hair buzzcut short, except for one single small braid hanging over his shoulder. Brow furrowed, you realized you hadn’t heard the milkshakes crash to the floor. You glanced around to confirm your suspicions. The milkshakes and tray were floating in midair.

And despite the romance the imagery of being dipped over his knee conjured, reality finally crashed in to ruin the moment. Your savior was a Jedi padawan.

“Hey hey! Looks like your Padawan has good reflexes Qui Gon!” Chuckled Dex from the booth.

Across from him, a tall Jedi with long graying brown hair nodded in amusement,

“One should hope so. Alright Obi Wan I think the poor girl can stand on her own feet again.”

The padawan Obi Wan blushed and righted you on your feet,

“Yes Master.”

“And you can stop showing off. It’s an inappropriate use of the Force.” Qui Gon added, a small wink towards Dex who chuckled, his four arms crossed over his shaking belly.

“Sorry Master.” Obi Wan flushed again, waving his hand. The milkshakes righted themselves and floated over to the table. Obi Wan plucked the tray from midair and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” You said, voice shy and small, eyes cast to your feet.

“You’re welcome.” Obi Wan nodded before sliding into the booth next to his Master. You nodded, returning to your other customers. But not without one last glance over your shoulder at the handsome padawan. It just wasn’t fair.

You tried to forget about the Jedi. But blue eyes haunted your dreams at night. Your mind reasonsed with yourself that the Jedi had a code that forbid attachments. But that didn’t stop your foolish heart from pounding in your chest every time Qui Gon and Obi Wan stopped by the diner for lunch.

It was no use. Having a stupid crush on a Jedi was just part of your reality now. Dex noticed of course. He thought it was hilarious. He made you wait on them every time. You were beginning to suspect he made your schedule out to guarantee you would be working when they came in. You didn’t know how. Especially when they started to go away on more missions and wouldn’t be back for weeks at a time. Once for a whole year. Not that you were counting the days or worrying or anything...

The only way you could cope with the crush was self deprecation. Telling yourself that even if he wasn’t a Jedi, Obi Wan wouldn’t give you a second glance. Oh he was polite and asked how you were, making conversation. But everyone else pretty much ignored you. You even had a customer point out one day that you just had one of those faces that just blended in.

You didn’t think you were ugly. But being a little short and your figure being a bit on the plump side you also weren’t kidding yourself. You guessed that was why you longed for Obi Wan like you did. You couldn’t have him anyway, so you might as well dream of the impossible.

But you also wished someone would want you like you wanted Obi Wan.

In a blink of an eye three years had past. And one day Obi Wan came in by himself. That was new.

“Hey! Obi Wan! Where’s Qui Gon?” Dex wiped his hands on his apron. Your heart twisted at the pained look on his face. Noting how red his eyes were.

“Obi Wan?” Dex pressed, suspicion growing with dread.

“He...fell in battle.” Obi Wan swallowed.

Dex shut his yellow eyes.

“Close the door Kid. We’re closing early today.” The grayish tan alien told you, pain evident.

“Sure Dex.” You nodded crossing over to flip the sign. You were the only waitress working today. Even your droid waitress FLO was out for maintenance. You hadn’t even had a customer all day until Obi Wan came in. The sky rumbled with thunder, the rain matching the mood.

“I’ll take my leave then.” Obi Wan nodded.

“No you sit. We’re going to honor my friend.” Dex let out a shuddering breath, entering the kitchen.

“Will he be alright?” Obi Wan asked you. You jumped hearing a roar of rage and pots crash to the floor.

“He will be. Just give him a minute.” You told him.

Obi Wan nodded then took a seat in his usual booth. Keeping to the edge as if Qui Gon was still beside him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, sliding into the booth across from him.

Obi Wan gave a stiff nod,

“Of course. A Jedi must accept death as a part of life. Less he fall to the Dark side.”

You lifted your brows. That sounded rehearsed. As if he were clinging to that mantra like a life preserver.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.” You pointed out.

“No it doesn’t.” He conceded. You then noticed his padawan braid was gone.

“Were you knighted?” You asked.

He scoffed,

“Yeah. The council felt that anybody that can kill a Sith Lord after a thousand years needs to be a Knight.”

“A Sith Lord?” You asked. Obi Wan began to tell you the story. Of the Trade Federation setting up a blockade on Naboo and how they had tried to kill Qui Gon and Obi Wan when they came to negotiate for the Republic. Saving the Naboo Queen and the detour to Tatooine. The discovery of a boy named Anakin with a high M count, strong in the Force. Wicked political plots and the wicked Sith Darth Maul dueling both Qui Gon and Obi Wan. Qui Gon’s death and Obi Wan killing the Sith. Of Qui Gon making Obi Wan promise to train Anakin.

“So I was knighted and now Anakin is my padawan. I don’t know if I’m ready.” He confesses to you.

“Qui Gon believed you were.” You point out.

“Qui Gon also believed Anakin is the Chosen One.” Obi Wan sighed.

“Chosen One?”

“The one meant to bring balance to the Force. Don’t get me wrong. Qui Gon was an excellent teacher. I’m confident that he’s taught me well. But how can the kid that was once destined for the Argricore teach the Chosen One?” He asked.

Your heart swelled. So your Jedi Knight doubted himself too. Why was that so endearing? Maybe because it made your stubborn heart believed you were connected.

But Obi Wan needed a friend. So a friend you would be. You squeezed his hand on the table.

“With patience. Kindness. Devotion. All the qualities that Qui Gon saw in you.” You said.

He gave a small smile, eyes still sad,

“Thank you.”

Dex interrupted you, already swaying on his feet from the Spotcha he had stored in his office. The Besalisk poured a round of shots and you all toasted to Qui Gon. That night Obi Wan helped you get Dex home, who was in no condition to drive. Then he walked you home after the rain let up.

The next ten years you’d think of that night whenever you had a bad date or another Life Day went by alone. Oh you tried to date. But no one made you feel the way Obi Wan did.

You had one steady boyfriend once. A good man. A mechanic. But then you had blown it when he tried to kiss you. You had sighed Obi Wan’s name. He was kind enough to forgive you. Until he surprised you at the diner one day. He had been patiently waiting for your shift to end. When Obi Wan and Anakin walked in.

“There she is Obi Wan!” The thirteen year old pointed you out. Obi Wan gave a friendly smile. You had waved, biting your lips as you saw how the beard Obi Wan was growing out suited him.

But then you had caught your boyfriend’s eye. He gave you a sad smile. He knew. And the pity in his eyes told you he understood your dilemma. You were in love with a man forbidden to love. And while he had been free to love you, he just couldn’t compete. He had left and you never saw him again. You had heard he married a few years later, and you were glad. Meanwhile you would stop trying to date after that.

Funny enough that same day, after your boyfriend had left, you had approached Obi Wan and Anakin to take their order.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Anakin had asked.

“Anakin...”

“Yes he was.” You nodded, setting out their utensils, not adding that you were no longer an item as of five minutes ago.

“Does he think you’re pretty like Obi Wan does?” Anakin had asked.

You looked at the boy stunned as his Master admonished,

“Anakin!”

You glanced at Obi Wan out of the corner of your eye. He was shielding his eyes with his hand, neck and face flushed red. You couldn’t help but be amused. Anakin was more like a annoying kid brother to Obi Wan than student and teacher. You liked the kid enough, but sometimes his confidence struck you as arrogance. He was improving that attitude under Obi Wan though.

“I suppose he did.” You answered, giving them menus.

“Did?” Anakin caught.

“That’s none of our business Padawan.” Obi Wan softly scolded.

“I’ll give you a minute to decide.” You told them.

But you heard over your shoulder,

“Don’t you think she’s pretty Master?”

“Shut up Anakin...”

That stupid flare of hope ignited in you once again.

As years past and Anakin grew, the conflict between the Republic and the Trade Federation Separtists grew into a full blown war. Anakin was soon knighted and given his own padawan along with a command over a clone trooper squad. Obi wan was made a general with his own squadron. The Jedi visits to the diner were rare.

The war and Obi Wan wasn’t the only thing you had to worry about. You had to take several moonlighting jobs during the war. Once you were hired as a server at a fancy gala for Republic senators.

You rarely visited the Upper levels outside Coco Town. The opulence of the ballroom had left you speechless. Still you did your job. When you heard a familiar voice call your name.

You were sure you were gawking as Obi Wan approached you. He looked so dashing in his armor.

“Obi Wan!”

It wasn’t you that called his name. A tall, beautiful woman with blonde hair and rich robes caught his attention.

“Duchess.” He said. You heard the warmth in his tone. The one that matched his eyes. You turned and disappeared into the background, not seeing Obi Wan try to introduce you only to find you gone.

You didn’t really have time to process how Obi Wan had looked at the Duchess over the next few months. You had to earn a living. You started taking waitressing jobs in Coruscant nightclubs. Which required a lot of skimpy short dresses. No one noticed you anyway. So they never bothered you too much.

Until a familiar voice said over the chatter of crowds and booming music,

“No one told me the view here was so lovely.”

With a blush you turned to see Obi Wan once again in his armor approach you.

“Hello Obi Wan.” You nodded.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Well between the taxes the Chancellor imposed on businesses considered non essential to the war, and the taxes that made my rent go up, a girl has to eat. Even Dex has a second job now.” You shrugged.

“Which explains why I saw you at the gala. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were working. I thought you might have been there as someone’s date.” He said.

You scoffed,

“Yeah right. Who would take a girl from Coco town to one of those Upper level parties?”

“I would be proud to have you on my arm.” He said. You looked up at him at that.

“That’s sweet. But I don’t have time for parties these days.” You told him, trying to excuse yourself.

“Maybe...when the war is over?”

You stopped and looked at him in shock. Did he just? No he thought of you as a friend.

“Well you’ll have to win the war first.” You recovered.

“All the more reason to do so then My Dear. And quickly.” He said, lips tugged up. Ugh. When did he get so charming?

“Obi Wan!” Ashoka waved him over next to Anakin, Senator Amidala and a few troopers.

“I should get back to work.” You said.

“If you get off soon or have a break you’re free to join us.” He said kindly.

“Thanks. But as soon as I get off I have to head home to get a few hours sleep. I have to open Dex’s in the morning.” You told him.

“Then I’ll walk you home.” He nodded.

“You don’t have to.” You shook your head.

“I insist. And don’t you dare try to sneak out on me this time.” He told you.

You gave him a mock salute,

“Yes Sir.”

He chuckled and returned to his friends, as you took a steadying breath. But you couldn’t help but hear the Senator ask,

“Will your friend join us Obi Wan?”

“You mean his girlfriend?” Ahsoka teased.

“Snips!”

Obi Wan sighed,

“Anakin do control your padawan.”

It turned out that it wasn’t just Obi Wan to walk you home. You were also escorted by a few of his men. Men that had chuckled when Obi Wan had kissed your cheek goodnight. Until a bark from their general made them snap to attention.

You watched him leave that night, savoring the kiss lingering on your cheek. A memory you would cling to when a month later you got the awful news. Obi Wan had been murdered.

You had wanted to curl up and cry for days after receiving the news from Ahsoka. Anakin was understandably too upset to even speak since it happened. But Dex had gotten himself kriffing drunk when he heard. Someone had to keep the diner going.

The diner was closed the day of the funeral. You had to go solo. Dex couldn’t bring himself to go to it. You had never been to the Jedi temple before. It was massive and almost otherworldly. You were escorted to a lift. Where the Duchess from the ball joined you. She too had tears in her eyes.

You were left alone in the lift together. When she asked,

“How did you know Obi Wan?”

“I work at the diner he liked to go for lunch. He’s been coming ever since he was a padawan. The owner Dex is...was...a good friend. He couldn’t come today.” You explained.

“Sounds like Obi Wan.” She nodded fondly. “He protected me during the Mandalore Civil War. Him and Qui Gon. Then just Obi Wan for nearly a year. We grew so close...”

She sniffed delicately into a hanky, not noticing how you turned green. Of course a beautiful Duchess would turn his head. You were just a plain waitress from the lower levels. A friend. Every moment you thought had been proof of hidden affection for you was just a product of your imagination. You had tried to push away a good friend because of some stupid crush. A stupid crush that he wouldn’t return because of the woman next to you and the Jedi code. And now he was gone.

The lift opened and you exited into a large open air chamber. Your breath catching seeing the body lying in state under a sheet. You only noticed Anakin seething in rage in front of the body. The look on his face gave you chills. The rest of the service you kept your gaze on Obi Wan’s body until the last moment he was lowered into his tomb that slid closed. The emblem of the Jedi craved into his marker.

Unlike other funerals you had attended, once the service was over the Jedi left. Regular mourners like you, the Duchess and Senator Amidala lingered to give final respects. When it was your turn, you whispered,

“I’ll never stop loving you Obi Wan Kenobi. Even if you never loved me.”

You returned home and back to life. A few days later, it was almost closing when a man entered. He was bald headed, and rough looking. A scar and tattoo on his face. Bounty hunter written all over him.

“Hi. Welcome to Dex’s. The kitchen just closed but if you want caff or pie we have plenty.” You greeted with a courteous smile.

He stood there staring at you. He made you nervous. But not afraid. Odd.

“Sir?”

He shook himself,

“Just caff.”

“Coming up.” You nodded turning to grab the pot. You startled when you found him sitting in Obi Wan’s booth. Sure others had sat there, but the way he sat now, it was just too similar. Too eerie.

Something wrong?” He asked, voice gruff but gentle. There was something familiar about it.

“Nothing. It’s just...have we met?” You asked.

“No. I’d remember a pretty girl like you.” He said hiding his smile behind his cup. He wasn’t that attractive, but you blushed nevertheless.

“Not many people would call me pretty.” You said.

“They’re idiots.”

“Well thanks.” You laughed, ready to leave him alone.

“Why are you sad?” He stopped you.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you lose someone?” He pressed.

You gave a short laugh,

“That obvious huh?”

“Who did you lose?” He asked.

“A friend.”

“Just a friend?”

You furrowed your brow,

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. He was just my friend.”

“I meant no offense.” He said as if remembering himself.

“Right...” you nodded wanting to excuse yourself.

“It’s just...I can’t believe a man would just be content to be your friend. I’d imagine...he’d wish things were different. More than once.” He said.

“Maybe. But not with me.” You said.

“Why not?”

“Well at first I thought he was devoted to his calling. A calling I was told didn’t allow for attachments. So I didn’t want to take that away from him. Only later I discovered he had feelings for someone else.” You confessed. Why you were sharing this with a stranger you didn’t know. But it felt good to confess it.

“Maybe he was confused himself. Torn between his calling and his feelings for two different women.” He offered.

“You haven’t seen the other woman.” You scoffed putting down the pot and leaning against the booth.

“Let me guess? Tall? Blonde? Regal?” He prompted.

“Uncanny. You sure we haven’t met?” You asked.

“I’d never forget meeting you.” He said.

It was the twinkle in his eye that had you shaking your head.

“Well. If you had seen them together, there would be no doubt on who he would choose if he wanted to give up his calling. They looked made for each other.” You told him.

“Maybe. But I can see why he’d be drawn to you.”

At your skeptical brow raise he continued, “Your kindness. Your selflessness. Your work ethic.”

“This sounds like a job interview.” You quipped.

“Your eyes. How they light up when you look at him. Your smile would haunt his dreams. Your laugh ringing in his ears. How you treat him like a normal man. Put his happiness ahead of your own. The other woman may have a strength, intelligence and beauty that’s draws him as well, and he does care for her. Deeply. But he can’t imagine a normal life with her. He can with you. It’s tempted him far more than she ever did. All he needed was a word from you.” The stranger went on.

“Who are you?” You asked. He suddenly stood, looking out the window. He exited the booth looking down at you.

“A coward. For not doing this sooner.” He replied. Then he kissed you. Your eyes widened in surprise. Then you melted in his embrace.

Before losing yourself completely, he suddenly bolted into the kitchen. Confused beyond belief, you tried to figure out what just happened. When Anakin stormed in, lightsaber ignited.

“Where is he?” He barked.

“Who?” You asked.

“Rako Hardeen!” He hissed.

“Who?!”

He growled stomping into the kitchen. Ahsoka burst in, out of breath, troopers on her heel.

“What’s going on? Who was that man?” You demanded.

“That’s the man that killed Obi Wan!” She huffed. You collapsed into the booth, feeling sick.

Hours past and you were kept there for questioning. Master Windu had come to question you. If you knew anything about Hardeen. What you talked about. You got the impression that he was trying to see if you were an accomplice. That angered you. It was Master Yoda that stopped him. The wise green Jedi master sensed the truth in you he had said.

“Forgive Master Windu and Young Skywalker you must. Seeking justice they are.” He told you as the Jedi left, a few Clones assigned to take you home.

“It’s not like I asked for a murderer to seek me out. Master Yoda? Why would he kiss me?” You asked, embarrassed. But you had to know.

“Hmm. To get in heads of targets, snipers learn everything about them they do. Saw your friendship with Obi Wan he did. Snipers known to fall for those their target cared about. Happens more than you think.” Yoda assured you.

It made sense. Especially given your odd conversation. Obviously just the man’s misconceptions.

“Hmm. Curious though. Why call himself a coward he did?” He asked. A secret dancing on his little smile as he left you.

To top off the strange day, after the troopers had cleared your apartment, posting a guard outside just in case, you dreamed of the kiss. Only when Hardeen broke the kiss, he had turned into Obi Wan.

You tried to get on with life. Work at the diner during the days, the clubs at night and on your days off. Hardeen was caught and sent to prison. You still dreamed of that kiss.

Months went by. Anakin started to come for lunch. His way of remembering Obi Wan you supposed. Only he only brought Ahsoka half the time. Senator Amidala was often his company. Padme as she insisted you call her. And judging by the looks they gave each other, they weren’t just friends. Which didn’t surprise you. Anakin had always been more willing to break the rules than Obi Wan had.

As much as you enjoyed getting to know them better, you still felt like a third wheel. When Ahsoka and the Clones joined him, you were more inclined to hang out. But seeing them flirting when they thought no one was looking you had to roll your eyes. Did they know how obvious they were?

But one day, you woke up with the realization that you hadn’t dreamt of the kiss. Maybe you were finally moving on. You fixed yourself a full breakfast. Then walked to Dex’s for the afternoon shift. Settling into the routine of taking and filling orders. You were mixing a milkshake when a voice you never thought you’d hear again spoke up.

“Hello there.”

You gasped, dropping the glass. Only it didn’t shatter. You looked and saw it was floating in midair.

“We really must stop meeting like this.” That voice said. You turned. Praying this wasn’t a cruel dream. For there was Obi Wan. His hair was buzzcut short again, his shaven beard growing back in. Smiling gently at you.

“That’s an inappropriate use of the Force.” You reminded him.

“Just say the word and I’ll give it up.” He said.

You blanched,

“What?”

He was interrupted by Dex running from the kitchen,

“Obi Wan! Knew you weren’t dead!”

“Hello Dex.” Obi Wab greeted before being pulled into a tight four armed hug.

The greeting soon turned into a celebration when Anakin, Ahsoka, Padme and the Clones showed up. You were soon given an explanation. Obi Wan had faked his death to go undercover to save the Chancellor from an assassination plot. Taking the identity of Rako Hardeen and even changing his face. Doing the timeline in your head, you realized something.

“That was you that night wasn’t it?” You asked him quietly.

“I’m sorry for deceiving you.” He apologized.

“But why?” You asked.

“I needed to make sure my voice modulator was working correctly. That if a friend who knew me for years couldn’t tell, then I could fool everyone else.” He replied.

Friend. Of course.

“And the kiss? All the things you said?” You asked.

“Well I like to be though.” He quipped, taking a bite of cake.

“I see.”

“You’re angry with me.” He stated.

“Maybe I am. After all Master Kenobi you did manipulate my feelings just to test your dumb disguise.” You clarified.

“Manipulate? I didn’t mean...”

“Next time try Satine. I’m sure she won’t be so easily fooled.” You told him yanking off your apron and stomping out, ignoring Obi Wan calling after you.

It would be almost a year before you saw him again. Anakin said he was focused on ending the war. Not that you asked about him. More than...six times. This time you suspected Dex had changed your schedule so you could avoid the Jedi. Until one night when you showed up for the late shift. Dex was sick again. So you would have to close up. Luckily you didn’t have to work the clubs tonight.

Only when you got there, you saw Obi Wan in his usual booth.

“He’s been sitting there all day. Won’t let me or FLO get him anything.” the other waitress Hermoine told you. You sighed tying on your apron. You still had a job to do.

“What can I get you General?” You had asked.

“That depends.” He replied.

“On?”

“If you’re still mad at me?” He asked.

You laughed softly, folding your arms,

“Believe it or not Obi Wan, regular people don’t hold on to past grievances. We’ve got lives to live.”

“I know. It’s one of the things I admire about you.” He said.

“I’m sorry about Satine.” You offered. You had heard it from the news. The Duchess assassinated. Mandalore under the control of a mysterious crime boss. The fate of the war up in the air.

“Thank you.” He said softly. Eyes sad.

“You were there weren’t you?” You guessed taking a seat.

“I tried to rescue her. I can’t say much, but the man who killed her is an old enemy of mine. He wanted me to suffer. I barely escaped.” Obi Wan told you.

“I’m sure she knew you did your best.” You assured him.

“She told me she loved me. That she always would.” He confessed.

Your heart skipped a beat,

“And what did you tell her?”

“That had she said the word, I’d have left the order.” He said.

“You did love her.” You said. But not me, you thought.

“Remember that year Qui Gon and I went to help during the Mandalore Civil War?” He asked.

“Yes. Satine told me. At your funeral. You spent a year together.” You recalled.

“We did grow close. And if she had asked I would have left the order. If I hadn’t mucked up our one and only kiss.” He explained.

“Mucked up how?”

“I called her by your name.” He confessed.

“What?” You blinked.

“She was furious. I tried to explain but I didn’t know how. I still don’t to be honest.” He said.

Your brain stopped working. You tried to process his words.

“I devoted myself to the Order because it was easier to ignore the fact that I cared for not just one woman but two. So I wouldn’t have to choose. That cost one of you your life. And it’s not fair. To either of you.

I only thank the Maker that no one knows about you. None of my enemies anyway. To be on the safe side a trooper will be working undercover here to protect you. You might have to pretend to be dating him.”

Obi Wan had grumbled this last part.

“Jealous?” You teased him.

“Very. But I promise you once this blasted war is over, I’m not going to keep you waiting anymore. I’ll leave the Order and we’ll figure out what we have. Together.” He stated.

“Are you just saying this because I’m your only choice now?” You asked.

He looked confused,

“What? No...I...”

You stopped him by taking his hand,

“Obi Wan. The Force chose you to have these marvelous gifts. To be used for good. Even before I knew about Satine I never wanted you to give that side of yourself up for me. I love you for who you are. As you are. I’ve dreamed of you wanting me as I’ve wanted you. But because you can’t live without me. Not because you’re scared to lose me. Correct me if I’m wrong but that’s the path to the Dark Side right?”

“Right as always my Darling.” He conceded.

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Catch a Falling Star

The Star Sending Festival goes a little differently when Yuu has a raging crush on one of the performers.

Warnings for coarse language, deceptive actions, and being an excuse for OC x Canon, baby!

Please check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, and let me know if you enjoyed it! I have an open askbox and do like to chat.

~*~*~*~

"You boys look great."

Trey and Deuce flushed a bit, and you laughed and snapped a quick picture. How pretty they looked in starlight silks and airy linens, all embroidered in gold! Pretty as a picture.

"If you like the clothes so much, you can take my spot and play the drum?" Idia, poor thing, he sounded so hopeful from the other side of his screen. And the clothes were nice, nicer than even the robes you had woken up in. They'd look nice on you. But if they'd look nice on you, how much nicer would they look on him?

You tried to keep your voice casual, but you couldn't keep out the teasing tone. "Noooo, they’d suit you better. And I can't keep a beat! You've done perfect on some of the rhythm games you play. It'll be a cakewalk."

He just groaned, and kept at it. As though pity for him could outweigh your own desires.

~*~*~*~

"Selfish little bastard of a man."

"Please stop calling my brother names."

"I'll call him what I like. Deuce has been working very hard. At least he can't resist gamifying anything."

Ortho hovered behind your shoulder. "Is it wrong that I hope Deuce succeeds? I should want Idia to always win."

"I hope not. I like Idia a lot-"

"You do."

"Shh. But that doesn't mean I want him to always have his way. He does need to do things sometimes. If he doesn't occasionally come out of his comfort zone, how's he going to extend said zone? He's got... there's zones he needs to be in before..."

Ortho tilted his head, and you ruffled his hair like the puppy he seemed. "Anyways. I got an idea. Say nothing to you brother about it, I don't want him crying betrayal in my messages."

~*~*~*~

"Easy sleep."

The gem glowed to life, and you set it aside to grab the next unactivated one. With so many students not wanting to make a wish? All you had to say was that you'd take unwanted stones, no questions asked. By sunset there were piles of them by the Ramshackle gate. all to add to Deuce's . And wishing stars didn't seem to care if the same person used multiple, just if you spoke it out loud. Which, with your loudmouth shnook of a roommate, meant you were just cycling through a list of trivial things.

"Ugh, are you done? I'm going to bed." He only made a few more wishes himself, for endless food and as many naps as he'd like, before growing bored.

"I'll be up soon, make yourself comfortable. Um. Fly the heavens. Swim like fishes. A clean conscience..." You kept going through ones in the lyrics from a remembered song, until you were sure Grim was in bed and wouldn't be awake to make fun of you.

"One true lover with a thousand kisses."

The stone clicked on like a sigh, warming under your touch. The light seemed a bit different, though it was likely your imagination. You grabbed the next one. "Idia to perform in his pretty little outfit." Click. "That if I go home, I rememeber everything, everyone here." Click. Click. Click. You kept going until there was only one left.

You whispered a truly selfish one to it, and it lit up so bright you had to blink the spots from your eyes.

~*~*~*~

"Aaaaaaaaa you look so cuuute~" As beautiful as Idia looked? You couldn't stop gushing over Ortho. "You're such a pretty little thing aaaaaaaaah!~" You swung Ortho around in a hug. "You look great! And the ceremony is saved!"

God, he had such a sweet laugh. "I'll be perfect! I have to go! I'll see you after!" Was he trailing sparkles as he went? Probably not. And with him gone, you could go back to your original target.

Idia fidgeted in his spoot and looked away as you looked him up and down. You'd never seen him look so fine. Of course, even in his usual clothes, he was beautiful, but in these, this finery? He looked otherworldly, more a fanciful painting than a person. Maybe everyone else could see even a fraction of what you did.

"You look nice."

"It's awful." 

"It's lovely. A splendid get up for a splendid person." He turned red. "A kind, sweet boy who steps up to the plate when it really matters." Redder. "A wonderful person who went out and personally granted all the wishes he could - Mal told me about what you did, and look what you've done for Ortho! And you saved the ceremony!"

He covered his face with his hands. "Stop, stop, I'm too low-leveled to take these complements. I don't deserve them."

"You deserve plenty. May I...?" You held up your phone.

He frowned at you. "Why would you want a picture of me looking like an idiot?"

"You look..." So beautiful you feel lightheaded just from standing this close. "Far from an idiot."

He argued, but you did get your picture.

~*~*~*~

The ceremony was over, but you're just pissy. If it was just your phone on the friz? Yeah, whatever. But everyone's went screwy, so you knew damn well Idia did something so there wouldn't be pictures or video.

And he'd done so well! He was a born drummer, he hadn’t missed a beat. He'd been so alive, and passionate, and he needed to see it for himself. That was the whole reason, not that you’d wanted a recording of him to watch in the wee hours of the morning.

Good thing that even as he fled from the wishing tree, he was easy to pick out, and it was easy to guess the direction he was going. So, instead of chasing directly after him and losing out to his long stride, you just took a different path and waylaid him in a small clearing.

He didn't even realize you were there until you steped into his path ten feet in from of him, landing on his ass.

"So. How'd you screw the phones?"

He blinked up at you, chest heaving. His clothes were damp from the ceremony, and he smelled of sweat, though not unpleasantly. "Made a signal jammer. They'll be fine when I turn it off."

You smiled, and sat down across from him. You'd picked a good spot to find him, the moss was thick underneath you. both. "That's a great trick. Why?"

He rolled his eyes, already knowing what track you were on. "No one wants pictures of me except you."

"If that was true, you wouldn't have made it so no one got any pictures of the ceremony. The one where you were only a small part of." You decided to add a bit of guilt. "Deuce's poor mother, she'll not get any pictures of her boy!"

He flopped back onto the ground and covered his face. "Stop lying."

"I'm not lying."

"You don't actually care about that." Still lying back, he pointed a finger at you. "You're just mad because you didn't get your pictures of me! Why me?"

"Why not you? I was so busy looking at you I barely had time to notice anything else! Why would I want to look at anything else!" You couldn't stop yourself. "I don;t understand why anyone would ever stop looking at you. I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. And after I got to know you? I like all of you, even the parts that drive me mad. Especially those." You drew your knees to your chest, painful with the thudding of your heart. "You're wonderful. The only thing about you I truly don't like is how much you dislike yourself."

He'd drawn back during your... good lord, that was a confession, wasn't it? Against a tree, staring at you wide eyed with fear. He was going to run as soon as he caught his breath, you knew it. You'd fucked it up and he probably wouldn't even want to keep being your friend.

"Do you really mean that?"

You nodded, waiting for the shoe to drop. But instead of running, he joined you, a hair's breadth from your side, silent for what felt like eons.

"I'm an SR at most. On my good days."

"Nonsense." You laughed. "You're a treasure. a truly rare specimen. Museum quality."

He managed to laugh back. "Only normies still go to museums."

You nudged his shoulder. "I said don't ever call me that."

"Normie."

"Stop."

"Nor-"

You pushed him lightly, and he still flopped over, laughing. You joined him, head on his chest. (So damned bony! even with his faint muscle, you could feel the curves of rib beneath his skin.)

"Idia?"

"?"

"You're terrified. I can hear your heart going."

"Ah... Excited too. People don’t confess to you every day. Especially not me."

"Oh, they should though. Letters pouring out of your locker every time you open it. Chocolates from secret admirers. The whole list."

"Not everyone's you. No one else is."

"You can just borrow mine. I get tons of them."

He frowned at you. "And you pick me?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't I?"

"There's the whole school to pick from. A whole school who aren't shut in otakus with curses."

"Oh, I got a curse too." He narrowed his eyes at you. "I'm the hottest bitch in a school full of hot bitches. It's truly dreadful. No one meets my exacting standards except you."

"I am cursed. And you have no standards, because..."

You held a finger to his lips, and he went cross-eyed trying to look at it. "No. Don't start. Can I prove I like you?"

He gave a small nod, and you took a deep breath before you began. The first kiss, you placed to his fore head after pushing his bangs away. The next two, to each scrunched eyelid, purplish and finely veined. Four, five, six, to the nose and each cheek. On the last, you hesitated. Was this too much? Was this too quick? He answered you himself, reaching up and dragging you down to crush his lips against yours with a gasp. He only let you up when he gasped for breath, eyes unfocused and his lips bruised and swollen. It was such a glorious sight, you couldn't help but record it.

He didn't even get a chance to shield his eyes, and you'd stowed your phone away as he blinked in shock as he realized what the click was. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to remember it."

"Nnnn... please don't show anyone."

"Not even you?"

"No."

"Too bad, I'll show you after. People are probably looking for us."

~*~*~*~

You couldn't complain. You're pretty sure that you weren't supposed to plant grass seed by hand? But there was something soothing about your hands in the dirt, so you were doing it that way.

"I can't believe Shroud's not here, he made this mess."

"Ortho is here." He was in charge of spreading the grass seed after he helped get rid of the burnt grass.

"Ortho doesn’t count."

You threw a clod of dirt at Grimm's head. "Then you might as well say you don't, either."

Idia actually showed up in the flesh before that fight could continue, gushing that he actually got the game sequel he wanted. Good for him! Now you needed to find a playthrough of the original to watch, to properly understand the excitement.

"It's a pity you didn't get a wish yourself, Yuu." Deuce didn’t know that you'd wished up at least three dozen stars yourself, he thought you’d just gotten them from people. He didn’t need to know, either.

You looked up at Idia, catching his eye. He started, and flushed not just his face, but halfway down his hair, before it faded out, a pulse of pink sparks. The smile you made at the sight hurt your cheeks from the strength of it.

"I'd say I got my wish just fine."

[jj-ktae]

·41/45· Intoxicated - Prompt Game -

Title : Intoxicated Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!reader Genre : Angst, Fluff, romance Words : 2060 Summary : Breaking up with Jinyoung was already complicated, yet he came, drunk and desperate, at 4 in the morning. Prompts : N° 41 : “Do you remember our first kiss?” N° 45 : “I don’t want you to stop.”

Prompt Game - Masterlist - 

Intoxicated

Your sofa is not comfortable. You never noticed how hard it feels against your back as you try to find a better position while watching questionable videos at 4 in the morning. 

It doesn’t matter, rest is for people who can turn shut their brain off. You can’t. It’s been a month. A whole thirty-one days of going back to a life made of instant noodles and drooling on your favourite fluffy pillow. 

Today is Friday and after numerous rejections, your friends gave up and stopped forcing you to join them into some fancy bar. It doesn’t feel right to be partying like this, especially when you feel like rolling yourself into your blanket like a burrito. 

Which is already done. 

It’s not like you’re depressed; you’re the one who broke up with your boyfriend because of event you were not sure you could get out of. 

Jinyoung is a man of high standards. He was raised in a wealthy family where everyone has their own role and future traced from the crib. He followed his parents’ choices without rebelling once. 

Except one time, two months ago. 

You had been dating for almost a year when his parents found him a spouse. She was the daughter of a man everyone wanted on their side and his family couldn’t say no when the promise of a profitable alliance appeared in their household. 

Only then you saw how unflappable Jinyoung could be. He would reject day after day, not bothered when his parents used the word disown as a weapon. Jinyoung didn’t even flinch and was ready to pack and move in with you. 

Poor boy would hate spending all his evenings on your sofa.

It became too big for you to handle. There was nothing you could do except break up with him so before he could run away from his luxury you left, lying about not loving him, using the word mistake like it meant nothing. 

Jinyoung had told you though. Trust me, he always said.

There was nothing to trust. Jinyoung would have never been able to find another job if these two companies were to team against him. It is true that he is a simple man, but you couldn’t live with the idea of being what destroyed his life. 

So you walked away, isolating yourself and ruining your health at work. It’s been a month and you feel as empty, the feeling of being the one responsible for your own misery distilling hate into your whole existence. 

There is no turning back now. Jinyoung must get married and become what he is destined to be.

You’re clicking on this documentary about salmon trout and their reproduction cycle when heavy knocking on your door startles you. 

Your neighbours are probably going to complain about non-existent noises because that’s what they do.

You check your pyjamas - shrugging when you notice a stain a ketchup from your precious fries session. 

But it’s not the old neighbour you find behind the door. 

“You opened the door…” Jinyoung’s smug smile makes you take a step back. He is leaning against the doorway, head restless. “I thought you wouldn’t…”

“What are you doing here? Why are you drunk?” You inquire before checking the hall. 

Jinyoung laughs, his head raising in evident distress. “I am not drunk! Come on!” His voice dies when you pull on his arm to force him inside. 

Damn him for showing up completely drunk. 

“Oh so I can come in” Jinyoung mumbles, letting his plastic bag fall on the floor with a loud thud before attempting to untie his shoes. 

“It’s just until you sober up.” You scold, blaming your soft side for giving in so quickly. You didn’t have a choice; your building is filled with people who abuse the police’s phone number daily.

Jinyoung snorts, grabbing his bag again and aiming for your sofa where he lets himself fall. “I brought wine. You love wine.” His voice becomes sad as unwraps the bottle.

You sigh, reaching his side and taking the bottle. “Thank you. Now rest and leave when you feel better. You know where everything is.”

It’s too much work. Dealing with a drunk Jinyoung is usually funny; he becomes a mess of clumsy and cute and oh god he becomes so luscious as soon as music starts.

“I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on a sofa!” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why did you come then?” You turn around to put the bottle on the dining table before gasping. “Holy shit Jinyoung, this is a Domaine de la Romanée Conti! Take it with you, it’s expensive!”

Jinyoung snickers, his lazy hand brushing your words off. “Do I look like I care about this…” 

“Listen,” You walk back to the sofa, stopping when Jinyoung leans over his knees to bury his head into his hands. “I’ll put the bottle back into the bag. Rest for now and you can leave whenever you want. “

“How is it so easy for you?” His question breaks you out of your monologue. “How is it so easy to speak like this?”

“Jinyoung, I don’t think it’s a good-”

“A good idea?” He asks, raising his head and revealing moist eyes. “All of this was a very bad idea, right? Because it was a mistake?” His head seems clearer suddenly. “Do you even think I believed you for one second?” 

You raise a hand and shake your head. “No Jinyoung. You won’t make me say what you want to hear. You’re drunk, stop this.”

“Of course I am drunk!” He speaks louder, annoyance tainting his vocal cords. “I am wasted because it’s all I can do! Breaking news: not everyone is as heartless as you.”

It stings. No matter how this is what you wanted, hearing his pain can only make you regret. 

“It’s better this way. Look around you! How would you have lived? Jobless? Disowned?” He doesn’t understand. Life is not a soap opera; love is not always the answer to everything.

“I told you to trust me! I told you I would sort this out! You didn’t listen, you freaked out and left, even though I told you to stay with me, no matter how I begged! How cruel is that?” Jinyoung gets up, ignoring his spinning head and contracting stomach. Rage is blurring his vision and the memories haunting.

You don’t know what to answer. As much as you want to think you are right, it is cruel. Jinyoung didn’t go against his parents to get dumped. 

“I don’t know what to say...all I did was for your happiness. You can’t risk everything for me.” You explain, eyes now equally watery. 

Jinyoung nods, eyes closing painfully. He goes to the windows; the place he loves the most in your whole flat. “Do you remember our first kiss?” he asks, not even turning around. “It was right here.”

You smile, that night still printed into your brain. Jinyoung confessed a day after you both met. 

His smile was wide and hopeful that day; nothing seemed to stop him as he explained his attraction to you and how he loved the way you dismissed him when he showed up at your desk and explained he had to see your boss for and important matter. 

He had left his number on his way back with a wink while your boss yelled at you for not letting the son of an important business man see him. 

Stupid, you thought, as you still dialled his number to complain. 

He asked you out and a day later you were kissing, his hands on your hips and yours in his hair. 

Now he looks pitiful, abandoned and disturbed. 

“I remember.”

He finally turns around, his last attempt at making you come back to him hanging on his lips. 

“I made it clear that no one else but you are going to be in my heart.” He raises said hand, a single tear falling on his cheeks and he must be pretty drunk to openly cry like that in front of you. “Did you really think I was going to get married to someone else but you? This is ridiculous, you don’t marry people you don’t love.” he walks away, pacing weirdly and even bumping into your lamp. 

“What have you been telling your parents?” Jinyoung is stubborn, you don’t know why but he cannot let things go. “What are you going to do if they ever-”

“If they can’t understand something as simple as their only son’s well-being, there is nothing I can do.” Jinyoung concludes, looking hurt both because of your rejection and his parents’ inability to let him do what he wants. “I will not stay around people who want me miserable, but I can stick to those who make me feel loved and understood.”

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad to get married to a rich and pretty girl.”

Jinyoung stops walking, looking dumbfounded. “Do you even hear yourself? It can’t be that bad?” 

“I mean, your career is your future. Your family is important, too! What is so special about me that you’re willing to risk everything even after I broke up with you?!” You yell, hating both yourself and him for being in such a situation. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. Why are you wearing stained pyjamas on a Friday night while watching stupid videos? Why aren’t you enjoying your single life as you should?” Jinyoung hits jackpot as easy as he used to. He knows you; you’re not the type of person who watches questionable videos, anyways.

“I was tired.” Is all you say, your drained face giving away your current mind-set.

“Please,” Jinyoung rubs his forehead, completely done with your behaviour. “You’re not happy. You think you made the right decision but you didn’t. You’re fooling yourself and trying to be an altruist by ‘saving my life’ yet you’re stomping on me again and again. So what if I have to work shitty jobs and sleep here? Are you scared that you might not take advantage of my bank account? Is me being poor so bad that you want me out of your life?” 

It triggers you, it triggers you so much that you start crying. “Stop!” You shake your head, your heart clenching. “I’m warning you, never imply, ever again, that I was after your money.” you want to sound threatening but you must look ridiculous. “Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I can spit venom and feel nothing? I didn’t want you to suffer because of me, I want you to be happy and live the life you should be living. I’m literally forcing myself to stop loving you, Jinyoung.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want you to stop.” Jinyoung breathes, his feet aiming for your trembling figure. His tone softens when he sees you crying. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to handle such a view. “What I’m trying to say is that no matter the amount of wealth and the number of connections, you make me happy and you’re the life I should be living. If you take that away from me, I’m done for.”

You sob harder, his words buzzing and more comforting than ever. 

He brushes your arm silently, his head dipping to take a good look at your bloodshot eyes. “Can you please stop trying to take all the decisions and believe me? It’s been a month and now I need you to come back to me.”

He doesn’t give you a choice; but you don’t need to ponder. 

“Are you really not going to regret this?” You try one last time, your eyes searching for his but his drunk face shows no concern, no sign of doubt, no hint of hesitation. 

“All I’m regretting is that I didn’t come sooner.” He concludes, his arms spreading to signal he needs a hug.

You carefully envelop him, his scent hinting he has been drinking a lot of liquor. “Promise me you’ll try to convince your parents some more.”

You hear him chuckle, his arms rubbing your back. “I promise.”

“I actually missed you a lot.”

Jinyoung can only inhale, his arms tightening and head finding shelter in the crook of your neck. 

“Welcome back, baby.”

[artemuerto]

Shelby Household Manor

Pairing: Thomas Shelby/Male Reader

Trigger Warnings: None. Unnecessary fluff.

Autor Note: You can take this as the original bonus, because while i was doing some research for a new story this idea got stuck in my head, it seems like the Shelby House won't let us go just yet.

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Leisure

Bonus #2

—7—

His presence was easily known by the man even with his eyes closed. The Shelby’s stayed outdoors for the clear and cloudy mornings were the weather wasn’t freezing. He walked with a slow pace and soon rested his tray on top of the table and while the young servant served the seemly napping Shelby, he could hear the easy, happy giggles from Charlie who was riding his new horse with mister Johnny. The fading clicking sound of the teacup alerted Tommy enough to tilt his head and looked at his servant. In response, the young one smiled brightly and gave the man a cup of warm black tea, it lacked sugar and milk and would never come close to the comfort Tommy felt from whiskey, but the head of the house found himself willing enough to at least indulge his servant into healthier beverages, at least, in the mornings. Later on, would said servant reach out for a bottle and a shiny glass to please his master.

Tommy accepted the cup with a soft lingering touch. Their relationship had grown in the long passing nights turned spring with the breeze of fresh air and blooming of flowers; Tommy was drawn to small, comforting touches that reassured him, his boy was alright. A brush of fingertips when delivering, short glazes in a room full of people, a fleeting hand on a shoulder for a request or the ghost transitory feeling of knuckles behind his back after leaving a room. Mister Shelby’s grown affection was not overbearing but always welcome, it made the boy feel safe. The boy was about to give Tommy another cigarette when Charlie demanded their attention.

Charlie was running toward them, they could hear him as the youngest Shelby scream for his father and later on for the boy standing besides him; Charlie had grown close to the boy to the point where he would only listen to the servant opposite to his father, the rest of the Shelby’s fought over that fact but also loved to tease the poor boy who flustered in shame, muttering apologies. In Charles’ eyes he was part of his family and the Shelby’s not only knew it but accepted as well. Charlie rested in his father’s arms only to beg moments after to be put on the boy’s arms later, even if he was growing tall for the touch to be comforting anymore, Charlie was never denied in cares.

“Dad! I’m able to ride the whole course.” Charlie informed showing his proud smile. The boy had been struggling to stay on his horse long enough to finish his ride around the stables, the animal is not wild but restless, listens to Charlie with a sharp intelligence that only makes Tommy glad but between his boy’s eagerness and the horse’s need to move freely, they have a lot to work on yet. “You should come ride with us.” Charlie said the servant making Tommy have a sip from his tea and wait for a positive answer. The boy smiled not reaching his eyes and shook his head no.

“I don’t ride.” Charlie instead of being sad from that statement looked more perplexed.

“Why?” By now, Tommy’s curiosity was peaked, he didn’t know the answer either.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

And so, of course, that meant both Shelby’s were on their way to teach him how to be on a horse. They didn’t use Charlie’s horse, the poor boy still getting used to Charlie’s way to put him through all that all over again with another person. No, Tommy used one of his own, one horse he used to ride but not for the races, one of the couple he thought truly keeping for himself and finally doing so. The servant followed in awe as his master rode the animal with grace and expertise. Thomas came close to dismount the beast and walked guiding him by the hand so his servant could have a better look. The boy looked strangely afraid and Tommy had to ask.

“Are you alright?” The boy nodded fast and short but Tom was not convinced. Thomas held a hand for his young boy and waited until said boy was braved enough to comply. He could feel the younger one trembling hand.

“I’m scared of horses.” The young one confessed feeling silly for showing such fear in front of a man who could tame them in a heartbeat. Thomas hid a smile for the honesty in his boy’s words and shook his head resting importance to those words, there was nothing wrong with the boy for showing his fears and concerns. Tommy led him to animal and made him touch it first.

“It’s ok, love. He won’t hurt you. All you have to do is know him.” The young boy blushed feeling embarrassed at the dotting manner mister Shelby had, it was not common but not do far fetch and still made him feel odd. The sweet kindness and the share comfort was something he had troubles getting used to, however, mister Shelby never called him on it.

The boy touched the horse’s head and slowly caressed feeling the smoothness of its fur shinning in the morning sun, the animal seemed to catch on his uneasiness and stood still as if waiting to be inspected.

“Hello, beautiful.” The boy continued to feel the horse, slowly getting accustomed as the animal waited and watched, looking pleased to be pampered.

They kept walking around discovering each other under Tommy’s watchful eyes, never he left the servant alone even when Charlie wanted his attention, wanted to play and also ride. Johnny came close after hours stating Tommy was needed in a family meeting. Charlie walked with him by his hand and Tommy on the other side as plans were made for more mornings to come.

—8—

The afternoon sun was dying behind their backs. The young servant had had troubles finding his way and footing closer to the horse but both animal and owner had been patience with his fears, shaky limbs and concerns; by now, the young boy could sit with a saddle on, the first tries had been without one and the boy joked about being a gypsy superstition for his master but after the cold overpowering stared he had for doubting the man’s belief, servant stayed silent accepting his order. Mister Shelby took pity of him and his seemly sadness at not believing his master’s intentions.

“I told you before. You have to know him.” Tommy said placing a comforting hand on his back, low enough to reach the boy’s waist. “If you use a seat right from the beginning, he won’t trust you.” He drank his master’s words and relaxed his shoulders, his whole body turned to the man as his expression let away all his secrets. I’ll trust you no matter what.

He could not lie, the feeling was odd, after struggling to stay on the horse without a saddle, now that he had one —even knowing it should help him now—, he found himself thinking it felt way better being without it. Tommy as if sensing his train of thoughts laughed at his back. For moments, the boy forgot how close they where, mister Shelby convinced him to take a detour as he controlled the horse, riding next to Johnny and Charlie; the young Shelby had been static to know he could keep up with his riding by now, after weeks of practice and a couple of jump scares when he lost control.

The servant boy had fallen not many occasions but one was too many for Thomas’ heart. The Shelby had gone mad in pain seeing how the fragile body of his boy flied seconds before reaching ground with a dry sound, luckily the scared animal had run away from the lying body instead of causing more pain. Tommy had screamed his name in shock and held him in his arms checking he was, in fact, free from harm. The servant was disoriented and his lungs screamed internally for air, but other than bruises, the boy was fine. He had tried to convinced mister Shelby he was ok to walk but the man had refused to let him go, deciding to hold in in his arms and walked all the way back to the house in a steady pace.

He came back to his senses with the strong feeling of Tom’s arms flexing underneath his weight, his warm breath and the beating heart that claimed the servant as his one desire, and the whispering of his master asking whatever deity he believed for the boy to be ok. Needless to say, Charlie stood by his side all night after he went to sleep. What the boy wasn’t sure it was a sleepy dream or a blurry reality was the touch of Tommy’s dry lips on his forehead as he bedded goodnight and a promise of never letting anything happen to him again.

Taking a ride in the afternoons had become a new hobby for the family, Johnny took Charlie while Tommy rode with him, usually letting him practice by taking a hold on the animal and with each passing day, the boy seemed to be getting only better, Charlie used to ask for the servant to ride with him on the way back but Tommy found himself missing the comforting warmth his boy gave to his chest. It was on one of those rides back home where Tommy felt bold enough to make a move.

Feeling the boy shiver due to cold breeze, Tommy made him stay closer, covering him with his coat, he felt the boy melt in his touch and soon, talked in murmurs low enough to make him tremble in a new sense of anticipation. The careful touch of Tommy’s hand through his back, all the way until it rested on his waist, spoke of promises to come.

The slow and smooth steps of the horse only served to make more prominent the sensual touch as they moved as one and finally stood in front of the barn, the sky tainted with dark orange and fading reds. The boy moaned after Tommy left his hands rest on top of the other’s thighs, giving him the freedom to decided, the boy could move away, take Tom’s hands aside and any thought would be forgotten with the sleeping sun, or could let Tommy invaded him forever, made a home for himself within and live under his skin.

Tommy didn’t even try to hide his smirk when his boy’s cheeks lighted in crimson but surprisingly so, his boy retaliated with a kiss.

An innocent touch that connected their lips in a simple brush and took both of their breaths away. Giving Tommy the taste of something so sweet and pure. And his.