#somehow it keeps returning 2 crawl and crack my nerves open

[bunnygirlism]

when will the youtube shorts furry kids realize that h*zbin hotel n h*lluva boss are created by a shitty woman who has always been shitty ever since the beginning?

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

liar liar pt. 2

request: I have a request, the reader is dating Spencer, and she and JJ are the ones that know that Emily faked her death. I’m thinking of it taking place in “It Takes A Village,” and she has to deal with Spencer being upset with her, like he was with JJ, but it has a fluff ending? Thanks!

for: @flklrevrmre

word count: 2,192                                                                                     reading time approx: 9 mins

a/n: i hope you enjoy this ending ;) and i’m elated to have so many new friends on my taglist.

masterlist

pt. 1

My ring finger traced the circumference of the wine glass I was drinking out of, while my eyes followed the marble trails of Rossi’s countertop. The team was giggling and chatting amongst themselves as I secluded myself. My thoughts were captured by my insecurities, paralyzing every fun bone I had in my body. Occasionally, I would contribute to their conversations, but only enough that I didn’t make myself seem bereaved. 

After a while, it became apparent that I wasn’t participating in the festivities, which conjured Emily and JJ to step away from the group, joining me. “Hey…” JJ eased into small talk, stuffing her hands into her pocket as she approached me. I replied with a light smile, their presence uplifting my current state. 

I knew what they wanted to say. I knew what they were going to ask. 

Spencer. 

“How are you holding up Y/N?” Emily hesitantly brought herself into the conversation. They both gazed at me with doe eyes, tenderness evident in their touch as they resided beside me. 

I took my lip in between my teeth, shaking my head as the fatigue had finally caught up to me. My chest throbbed from being sore all week, my shoulders were frail from being uneasy all the time, and my heart burned with self-reproach. With every passing day, I felt my limbs grow limp and my soul go numb. In contradiction, the two halves of my brain battled one another till my doubts were left to torment me further. 

With the silent response, JJ and Emily shared glances of disquietude, pondering their next steps. “Y/N?” JJ called out softly, laying a tender hand on top of mine. “You took a burden alone. That doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone,” she murmured, nodding to Emily. 

“Y/N, I can’t help but feel like this is my fault,” Emily lamented. “I just...tell me that there’s a way I can help.” 

“There’s nothing either of you can do…” I smiled bitterly, glancing at both of them. I squeezed JJ’s hand, feeling a film cast over my eyes. “And Emily, you had to protect Declan,” I empathize, using my other hand to pull her into a side hug. “I would’ve done the same.” 

“I can tell,” Emily looked at me with somber reverence. “Especially for what you did for Spence.” 

Another pang hit the center of my chest, making my ribcage sting. The mention of his name made my skin crawl instead of making my heart flutter like it used to. I wordlessly winced at Emily’s notice, trying to conceal it the best I can. “And I would do it again,” I declared, meaning every word. “I’d burn the entire world if it meant making sure that he isn’t alone. I...I know what it feels like to be confined in your head--it’s something me and him share. It’s a merciless place.” 

“You really do love him, don’t you?” 

“More than I can ever fathom.” 

I  stared at the ceiling, letting my tears travel back inside of my head. I shut my eyes, feeling a deep burn envelop my eyelids from all the crying I’ve done previously. “I spoke to him,” Emily brought up. 

My attention instantly shifted to her, prompting her to elaborate. “I spoke to him when we wrapped up that case in New York,” she explained. I unknowingly leaned over, listening intently to her story. “We had a conversation about everything--you. I won’t get into details because that’s between you and Spencer, but I did encourage him to come tonight.” 

My nerves did small somersaults, unable to process the new piece of information. “Are you sure?” I falteringly asked. 

“I’m sure he’ll come.” 

But he didn’t. 

A few hours had passed, and there was no evidence of Spencer’s attendance. With another disappointment, the burden of my thoughts pried at my most vulnerable parts. 

I had enough. 

I rose from my seat, bidding everyone adieu as I excused myself to the backyard. Amid the formalities, I assured everyone of my well-being and that I would return soon. Their persistent objections were loud, loud enough to stifle the opening of the front door as I stepped outside.

I felt the cool air caress my shoulders while crickets chirped a nightly symphony. The moon glowed with elegance, and stars painted the sky in an ethereal light. From a distance, it looked as if the planets were mere neighbors greeting one another. 

It was beautiful; it took me out of the confines of my mind. 

Chatter can still be heard in the background, but somehow it blended nicely with the lively sounds of night creatures. Although what I didn’t realize was the thump of approaching footsteps behind me. 

“Hey,” muttered a hushed voice. 

The instant I recognized the presence, my entire body stiffened. The inside lights cast a shadow on the wooden porch I sat on, displaying a lanky silhouette on the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to move, let alone speak. My tongue was pierced against the roof of my mouth, petrified to unpack the situation at hand. 

He responded to my silence with a reluctant step towards me. Even in our circumstances, I can still feel his presence lingering on the soft skin of my back, making the little hairs stand. Our proximity was slowly closing in with every soft thud until he was eventually situated next to me. 

I unconsciously looked over my shoulder, opposite of him, to avoid his curious stare. I shut my eyes, isolating myself in my mind in the hopes that this was a dream. But the frequent trembles of my stomach told me otherwise. 

“Y/N?” he called out delicately. “Y/N...please,” he attempted to brush my hand with his fingers, but by instinct, I retracted them with swiftness. A bolt of electricity shot up my arm from Spencer’s touch, a cruel remeberance of the fervor we used to share. My fingertips shivered at the loss of contact, but the static sensation remained. 

“Y/N, I know that you probably don’t want to talk to me--and you have every right to…” he babbled. “...but I just--please just listen to me.” 

But I refused, every word that fell from his supple lips made the echo in my head boisterous. 

I was a mistake. 

I was a mistake. 

I was a mistake. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling my abdomen clench in misery. The sensation traveled deep into my chest, pulling me in different directions. My throat cinched up, and the coldness wandered all over my body. Every muscle in me cried out in anguish, unable to persevere through the exhaustion that I’ve let consume me. 

“Y/N-” 

“Please just go…” I whispered, choking on the aching sobs rising in my esophagus. 

“I’ll leave...I promise,” he muttered in a pained voice. “But just...please, let me say this.” 

Newfound tears threatened to spill over my eyes, the sorrow in his voice creating a void in me. With the little compassion I had left, I turned around facing his direction. Although I didn’t dare to acknowledge his gaze, instead, I settled my attention on the wood below. 

“I know that it’s hard to get through to me, and I know I get stuck in my head,” he began, lowering his head. “You and I both know how hopeless it gets being alone there.” 

He twiddled his fingers as he spoke, an implication of his distress. An infinitesimal part of me still yearned to comfort the man, to ease his worries away, but I didn’t have to courage to do so. 

“When I get into that space, I get...I get frightened by the doubts that my mind conjures up,” he admits. “Everyone looks at me as the genius--the expectation given to me. But, only you and JJ look at me for who I am instead of who I must be for the team.” 

His voice started to crack in between his words, his deliverance laced with dejection and bitterness. I rang my fingers over the textured floorboards, distracting myself from the swelling ache in my heart. 

“But you Y/N…” he whispered, gazing at me with a rueful adoration. “You alone bring so much light into the obscurity of my mind. You...you make all my pains go away with nothing but a glance of your smile, ” he chuckled pitifully. “Y/N, you-” 

“You told me I was mistake…” I croaked, ignoring the sharp twinge in my throat. 

I finally met his gaze with a weary expression. His hair was slightly disheveled, and the bags encompassing his eyes were prominent. But it was the torment evident in them that was the most striking. His irises failed to gleam of their usual autumn hazel, and the golden specks scattered across the tender hue were dull. 

“I...I know,” he struggled to admit. “But, I was wrong-” 

“You...you told me I was your biggest mistake,” I reiterated, my voice coming off shaky and unstable. “Reid, you…” I paused, my pitch elevating as a whimper loomed to escape my lips. “You hurt me...so much, Reid.” 

I scoffed, my vision going blurry from impending tears. Spencer hung his head in remorse, combing his hand through his curls as he attempted to keep his composure. An uneasy silence ensued that not even the blissful sounds of wildlife can mask the tautness in the air. 

“I...I know,” he muttered quietly. “JJ, she told me the truth after our...after what happened at the station during the case,” he confessed. “You did all that...you took all the blame, just, so I had someone to be there with me.” 

I sighed, shutting my eyes at his admission. “I didn’t...I couldn’t bear the thought of you going through it alone,” I affirmed. 

“But you…” Spencer paused, shaking his head at himself. “You...did it all alone.” 

All of my guards fell at the utterance of his words. My heart throbbed, and my chest ultimately gave out. Suppressed sobs wracked my entire being, slipping past my tired lips with ease. My head felt faint, and my shoulders slumped. Agony coursed throughout my body, feeling it prick every inch of my skin. 

Spencer shifted next to me in an instant, engulfing me in his arms. There I wailed and cried every tear that was humanly possible. I set free the entrapped painful sentiments I’ve burrowed under my stubbornness, and I let the numbness drift out of my body. All that was left was the carcass of my grief and an apprehensive heart. 

“I’m sorry Y/N...I’m so sorry,” Spencer repeated, cradling me back and forth while he tried to mask his whimpers. 

For most of the night, we stayed in each other’s embrace as the moonlight graced our figures. My face was delved into the cleft of his neck, and his chin laid snugly on my head. The rise and fall of my chest was still erratic, but it was in a much healthier state than before. Our combined breathing was the only distinguishable sound floating in the air after we had steadied ourselves. 

The party inside was subdued, and the chatter was nonexistent. The lights were still on, but it seemed that the team had moved elsewhere to celebrate their festivities. Before long, the quiet around us ceased as Spencer broke the silence. 

“Y/N?” Spencer whispered. 

I nudged my face further into his neck, prompting him to continue. 

“What I said...the horrible things that I told you, you have to know that they’re not true,” he lamented, taking my balled-up fists into his palms. “Y/N, you’re far from a mistake. The biggest mistake I’ve made to date is making you believe that,” he croaked. 

“Spencer...what you did-” 

“Wait--just--let me finish,” he nodded, playing with my hands. “Y/N, you bring color into what I see...yo-you bring color into everything that I do,” he professed, stumbling over his words. “You make it easy to wake up every day and do what we need to do because I know I get to wake up next to you.” 

His lips began to tremble, and his hands began to shake. Instinctively, I cupped his hands and brought them close to my chest. 

“I…I love you...so much, Y/N,” he whimpered. “And I hate myself for making you feel like you were comparable to anyone else, or that you were insignificant.” 

I pressed small kisses to his knuckles, knowing that it would calm him down. I felt a pang hit my torso in Spencer’s discomfort, igniting the part of me that longed to console him. I observed the collapse of his stature and the decomposed state of his demeanor, his appearance visibly in plight. 

“Truth be told, Y/N. You are the most significant thing in my life…” he whispered. “You make me whole.” 

As he finished his declaration, tears welled up in both our eyes for the last time. “Spence…” I breathed, basking in the warmth that his eyes radiated, despite his desperation. 

“Loving you...is one of the greatest thing I will ever do.”

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @honeymilk-4 @linthebinbag @andreasworlsboring101 @ssareidbby @kyleetheeditor @tclaerh @jimilogy @lulwaxim @jhillio @m3ssytrash @haylaansmi @meowiemari @ashwarren32​ @spencerwaltergubler​

‘liar liar’ taglist: @lieswithoutfairytales​ @foreveryoungxx3​ @goldentournesol​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @kenny-0909​ @andiebeaword​ @hercleverboy​

tags that don’t work: @crazymar15 @nighttimerain123

[clarissalance]

Hints of something more

Albedo x fem!reader

Warning: Slight suggestive language at the end. 

Word count: 2k7

Summary: Apparently, visiting Albedo in Dragonspine has somehow opened a new door to your vague, no-label relationship. And Kaeya won’t stop teasing you about it.  

Before leaving for Dragonspine two days ago, Albedo told you to bring him some canvas, a few pencils and a paint set of watercolour. However, he failed to mention which brand and type of watercolour he wants you to bring. Is it a set of 24 colours? 48 colours or the 12 colours set? Furrow your eyebrows, you stared questioningly at the shelves, hesitating to pick one up. Knowing how picky Albedo is if it is not up to his standard. The man would refuse to touch the paint. 

What would he choose usually? You can’t seem to recall his watercolour preference. Funny how it is, he usually encourages you to follow your instinct. Human instinct is the best to study. He would say something like this out of nowhere. Sometimes they make a really questionable decision that I can’t decipher. Definitely one of his catch-on phrase. 

 Drilling holes on the shelves for too long is not the solution, so you finally choose the most expensive set of 48 watercolours in the store. You cross your fingers and hope that he doesn’t question your choice. There it goes for half of my salary. Far away, you can faintly see the outline of the money fairy waving at you, flying toward Celestia. I hope he will like this one. 

 Packing up the last few things inside your backpack, you prepare for the adventure to the Dragonspine to meet with the chalk prince. The bright sun on the blue canvas is almost halfway to the top. The weather would be lovely for a small picnic, too good to waste over climbing to Dragonspine. Dragging your body toward the front gate, you lazily hope to hitch someone carriage. It would be best to start early than arriving at the lab late.  

 The journey takes an hour by feet to walk from the city to the foot of Dragonspine and then takes another 2 hours to walk to Albedo’s lab on the mountain. It would be much faster if you can actually have combat fighting skill to head-on with the cryo mitachurl, but life is much a sadder reality. You don’t have a vision nor a combat skill to solo a whole camp of hilichurl. However, with your brain and your gifted survival (escaping) instinct, dodging a few camps and distracting a few of them isn’t very hard. 

 The weather in Dragonspine is much better than what you anticipated. The sky deep and clear, the veil of fog has thinned enough. The air is crisp, mist rises and slowly dissipates after each exhales. The sheer cold is as brutal and sharp knife-like as usual. You can’t understand how Albedo loves the weather in this place enough to set up a lab in here. A summer person like you refuses to set foot in this area unless for commissions and Albedo’s related purpose. Hnng, you are starting to regret coming here.  

There are a few more camps of hilichurl than usual on your way to the mountain, so you decide to take the longer route. At least meeting with a few Fatui is much more comforting than getting hit by an ice mitachurl shield. 

 By the time you get to the camp, the sun is standing proudly on the top. You get here an hour late, and much to your dismay, Albedo wasn’t in his lab. He is going out to look for more sample again. Heaving exhaustingly, you drop the heavy backpack thud on the ground. Scampering over the fire, you let out a satisfying at the charing fire. A pyro vision would be convenient to have in this weather. 

 With the sound of wood cracking under the desiring heat, the frost bearing breeze slowly finds its way into the camp, cooling the scorching radiation from the glowing fire. Warmth slowly crawls and sinks in on your dry skin, soothing the icy air. Exhausted, your eyelids slowly pull themselves over, threaten to extinguish your consciousness. A nap wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? You let out a long yawn, curl into a fetal position and use the bag as a pillow. Darkness comes within a second. 

 _____________________________________________________________

 You are woken up by the warmth on the hand caressing your cheek, running through your hair. The familiar smooth hand resting on your face doesn’t know you have woken up, the thumb fiddling with your soft skin. Nuzzle lovingly at the palm, you let out sigh contentment. The hand is big enough, gently and carefully tracing your face outline like it’s treasuring a gift. This familiar feeling tickles you like a feather. 

 Groggily, you peel your eyes open and greet with a stunning sight. Albedo is sitting next to you, the fluffy blond hair softly falls on the cheek, some being tucked under his ears. The teal eyes focus intently on the notebook in front of him, glimmering with interest and dedication, his long lashes fluttering like a butterfly wing on a flower petal. The golden diamond on his neck glimmers faintly under the flicker of light, stand out on his creamy white skin. His warm slender fingers still lightly touch your hair soothingly make you feel so relaxing. Letting out a satisfying purr, you press your plump lips on his wrist, successfully gets Albedo attention. 

 “ How long have you been up?” His soothing voice has never failed to calm your nerve. You yearn up a little bit, trying to peek at the notebook on his lap. It’s so far away, you can’t catch a glimpse from here. 

 “ A while.” You hum. “ Long enough to get drunken at your handsome features.” 

 His eyes widen a little bit, not expecting that coming out from your mouth. 

 At the corner of his eyes, he catches your cheeky grin. Beaming widely at him, you internally cringing at your cheesy remark. You don’t even know what gives you the courage to slip the embarrassing words. 

 Albedo smirks at your blatant flirt, his reaction opposite what you look for. He returns his attention back to the notebook. His eyes still remains a hint of amusement. You want to dig a hole and jump in it. 

Slowly rise up, you rub your eyes tiredly, and notice Albedo’s coat on your body. Did he put it on you? You glance at him curiously, trying to seek an explanation, but he remains quiet, focuses on the piece of paper. The sound of pencil rustling on the parchment eases you somehow, like waking up in a small cottage with your loved one. 

 “ What time is it? ” You let out a big yawn, voice thicks with sleep. His light coat somehow is warm. Maybe you should ask him where he got this. 

 “ It’s around 3.” Albedo mindlessly points out. “ You can sleep more. Put my coat on if you're cold.” He reminds.  

 “ I shouldn’t be sleeping longer. Let me help with your work so I can get back to Mondstadt on time.” You scratch your head, your body is numbing over the sheer cold. Throw on Albedo coat, you hope the thin layer can keep you warm a little bit longer. His coat smells like frost and Cecilia. Inside the pocket, you find a heating pack. Maybe this is what kept you warm when you were sleeping.  

  “ M almost finished.” The sound of paper rustling each time he turns a page. “I can accompany you back to the city.” 

 “ But I haven’t done anything?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, hands folding at your chest, trying to saviour some warmth. “You’re sure you finished?” 

 “ Yes, just a few more retouches, then we can go back.” Albedo nods, his eyes still glued on the piece of paper. Abruptly, he stops and looks up at you, waving his hand, signalling you to get closer. Obediently, you walk toward him. When you are an arm-length from him, the man gestures at the chair put closely next to him. He wants you to sit down?

 You sit down quietly, trying to take a look at the drawing he is working on. Hmm, is that you? Did he draw your sleeping form? On the paper is the portrait of you curl like a fetal, your long hair splaying on the floor. Each stroke of pencil depicts the gentleness you have in your face when you are sleeping. The drawing is mundane somehow, you feel comfortable and relax when looking at the piece. 

 Suddenly, you felt a warm hand slotting in your palm, elbow nudging yours. His slender digits are weaving tightly with your fingers, warmth tingling on the tips of your fingers. . Look up from the drawing, you see a tint of pink on his ears. So he can also get embarrassed. 

 “ You look cold.” He mumbles, eyes avoiding yours, his cheek flush furiously. “Sit closer.” You gladly shift closer, your hand and shoulder touching his. Albedo picks up the pencil and returns to his drawing. This time he turns to a new page, start to draw another specimen. Looking at the sketch, you guess he is trying to sketch the abandoned ruins. The comfortable silence envelopes the two of you. 

 Being so close to him, you can make out the whiff of fresh Cecilia and pine. Engulf by his coat and, now next sitting next to him, you are bathing under his signature scent. It would be nice if I could feel him more. Blushing at the thought, you try to push away those not-so-innocent thoughts. Obviously, he is trying to be a gentleman. You should be grateful, if not because of him, you're going to freeze to death.

 Albedo is much warmer than you, his body radiating heat like a furnace after a while. Silently, you pick up a book you left here last time on the table. Most of his books are either textbooks or ancient language book about the alchemist, which you think you are qualified enough to read. Waiting for him in silence is a form of torture if you don’t do something. Your attention removes from his body and to the novel on your hand. 

 After what feels like two hours, Albedo finally puts down his pencil and stretches. His long limb knocks your hand a few times, your knees bump with his. He let out a tired yawn, cracking his knuckles. 

 “Finished?” Your eyes still glue on the thick book. You hear him let out a hum, his hand remove to clean up the mess on the table. 

 “ What are you having for dinner?” Albedo casually asks, hand dusting the enormous amount of eraser dust on the paper before dumping them in the trash. His voice wavers a little, but you aren't sure why. 

 “Hash brown and cream stew. I have a brownie for dessert.” You notice Albedo never makes small conversation like this. He is the type who would get straight to the point or request. Perc up from the book, you are faced with his back at you. He is arranging the bookshelves.

 “Do… you want to join me for dinner? ” After it felt like a while, you finally break the silence, your voice laces with uncertainty. If you read the atmosphere wrong, it can cost you quite severely.  

 “Sure.” He shrugs nonchalantly, continues sorting the stacks of books on the ground. Somehow you can feel the tension in the air is lifted, and he seems more relaxed than before. 

 “These are some observations and speculations I made in the last few days in here.” The chief alchemist hands you a folder. 

 You flip through the files, they are mostly pictures and drawing of large camps of hilichurl. At the end of the file is a map marked with their locations. The Abyss Order's activity has increased rapidly in this month. Commissions have been sent out continuously, yet many of them haven’t been sorted out properly yet. It seems like the sheer cold of Dragonspine can't prevent their enthusiasm. On your ways here, you have met 4 more camps, hence the reason why you choose to be acquainted with the Fatui instead.

 “I will give this to the Adventurer Guild. Thank you for this.” You exhale, fingers rubbing your eyes tiredly. The next few days are going to be very busy. 

 “If you are done, then pack up. We are going back.” He announces, returns his attention to pile on the ground. Fold the corner of the page, close the book, prepare the pack-up for the leave. You can’t wait to leave this devastating sheer cold and return back to the realm of fog and wind. Shuffling through your backpack, you put the art supplies Albedo asked you to buy on the table neatly. You didn't take anything out, so no need for packing. Basically, you are done. 

 “ Let’s go back.” 

 _____________________________________________________________

On the way back, you both walk in silence. Most of the camps are cleared, barrels and boxes shatter into tiny pieces scatter on the ground. Seem like our dear traveller has their job quite well. The place is almost spotless, even with the Fatui camp. You are impressed with their productivity.  

 It takes less than 2 hours walking back from Dragonspine, now that your bag is lighter. Walking comfortably next to Albedo, your hands grazing past each other a few times. You watch the sunset etches widely on the blushing hues orange sky in Dragonspine can be so romantic. 

 Suddenly feeling so motivated, you gently slip your index into his palm. Albedo freezes but still complies, his fingers caught your hand, slowly interlocking yours. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, heating creeping up your cheek. Shutting your eyes, you mumble incoherently something about how unfair life is. 

 He let out a breathy snicker, with your fingers interlock, sharing the heat in the harsh weather. Look up the fading orange, slowly disappear behind the layer of thick snow, you blow out warm air, fog gathers and dissipates in the air. Sunset in Dragonspine can be arguably one of the best scenes in Mondstadt. 

    “I’m going back to my office to put this away.” When you arrive at the gate, Albedo decides to head to the HQ of the Knight of Favonius. He motions at the package in his hand. 

 “ See you later at dinner.” Nonchalantly, he plants a kiss on your cheek, hand ruffles your hair a little bit before head off in the opposite direction. 

 You stand there, still trying to comprehend what just happened a few seconds ago. The peck on your cheek is too short, too light, like feather brushes. He can’t do this to you. Your cheek is blazing with fire, and if not careful, a spark can ignite an explosion right here. You turn your head sideways, trying to saviour and recall the feeling of his lips. 

 “ Tch tch.” The sound is coming from the nearby alley, the click-clack of boots coming closer. You whirl your head toward that direction, just to realize the source of the sound is all-mighty Calvary Captain of the Knight of Favonius. 

 “ Love is really in the air.” He comments sarcastic, hand waving around to shoo away those imaginable ‘love’. 

 “ Living this long, I have never thought I would be able to see our Alchemist Chief giving someone a goodbye kiss.” Kaeya smugs at you, his deep blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Oh, you really can't wait to wipe his shit-eating grin off his face. 

 “Stop being a drama queen, Kaeya.” You shot back. “ He gave Klee one too, don’t treat this as such an abnormal supernatural act.” Internally, you have to say that Albedo giving affection is kind of a supernatural incident too. Kaeya eyes at you like you grow another head, shaking his head.  

 “ You know what I meant.” The captain shrugs, his voice ringing with a hint of smugness. 

 The man suddenly walks closer, his gloved hand pats your shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Must have been really cold in Dragonspine for him to give you his coat.” He winks at you, his eyes slowly drag down your figure. You cautiously look down. Shit, you totally forget this. 

 “We have a meeting at 8 tomorrow at the HQ. Please tell him to not stay up too late.” The cryo user whistles teasingly, heading toward Angel Share, his hand waving in the air. Your face flushes furiously, smoke almost come off your burning face. Now you realize why people have been giving your pointed gazes when you first enter the gate. Damn it, Kaeya, it is not what you think it is.  

[ciggylungz]

Worship me- Chapter.1

Worship me- Chapter 1.

word count- 3.3k

Summary: Harry is the typical bad boy in town, and Y/n is an innocent Catholic school girl, with a few skeletons in her closet

Warnings: mentions of abusive family, arranged marriage, some major angst and triggering themes

(this in no way is meant to be offensive, I grew up catholic and in a very bad household it was very toxic and detrimental to my health mentally and physically and I endured a lot of harm from the hands of the catholic church. But please remember that is only my experience and I support anyone with whatever religion they chose to practice, and please keep in mind this is fiction and meant to be taken as such. Xoxo H)

__

 The sun was just reaching it’s full peak as Y/n finished putting on her school uniform, she always hated how early she had to get up for school and it didn’t help her parents forced her to get up at 4:30 each morning to pray and read the page of the bible her father had picked out for the day. So, by 6:30 she was already knuckling at her eyes while buckling her black Mary Janes and rushing out the door with an empty stomach since her mother always said ‘fasting in the morning showed devotion to god’ which she truly didn’t understand. She didn’t understand a lot of the things her parents pushed on her and her siblings, some of it even scared her but she knew better than to open her mouth about it, she knew all she’d get in return is a tongue lashing and her faced shoved into a bible while she got spanked by her father. She found herself growing more and more scared as she grew older, her home seemed to get more hostile as the days went by but to her it was normal, it’s all she ever knew so she never questioned the things her parents groomed her for.

She tried not to drag her feet on the sidewalk while she made her way towards her school, she knew it would scoff her school shoes and her mother got very angry the last time she came home with scarred leather on the toes. Y/n truly felt exhausted today, she felt sad, tired, a bit overwhelmed and very hungry since she wasn’t allowed any food after 6 in the evening and then she had to withhold breakfast from herself in honor of god. She was really starting to feel the negative affects of some of these practices, her body getting thinner, her energy dropping quickly and the shivers and headaches were constant. Yet she kept her mouth shut, because ‘That’s what nice girls do’, and y/n didn’t want to be bad she wanted to be praised, she wanted to be adored and loved. But no matter how submissive she is to her parents; she never seems to get any of what she needs. She even kept track in her diary of how many days it had been since someone told her they loved her, today marks day 128.

She could barely hear the chatter of her peers as she made her way through the corridor, her head was already beginning to pound in her temples and her exhaustion was like a weighted blanket draped over her. She didn’t realize she was walking straight into the wall until she felt a palm press against her forehead stopping her from smacking her head into it, her knees still knocked into the navy blue tiles that decorated the bottom half of the walls causing a small ‘umph’ to escape her lips as she shifted her sleepy eyes to the person attached to the hand. There she saw Harry, his left eyebrow was raised slightly in a questioned manner while he looked down at her.

Y/n knew Harry, they were friendly with each other and she really liked him. He was the only person who really payed her any mind, and while she knew he was a bit of a trouble maker he was always kind to her. They shared a science and English class together, their desks lined up next to each other in the cramped classrooms of her private school always making their knees knock together and elbows to push each other’s work off the desks by accident, something rather annoying but the pair got along well enough it never caused his notorious attitude to flare up.

“You okay? Walkin’ like a zombie today kid.” He popped his gum between his teeth loudly, making her eyes blink on reflex before she brought her palms up to rub them slightly. “I’m really tired…sorry I didn’t mean to bother you”. Harry had no idea why she was apologizing, but he noticed it’s something she did a lot. Even when there was nothing to be sorry for and it always made him feel a bit sad, it was odd to him since the usually group of friends he hung with was very much the rough and tumble, unapologetic type.

“What are ya’ talkin’ about? Didn’t bother me, was making sure you didn’t hurt yourself, love.” While Harry was not a soft or sweet kid typically, he was always gentle with the girl. He called her pet names a lot and tried to keep his usual rough tone out of his mouth while he spoke to her. She was a sweetheart and he truly appreciated how pure her aura and personality is and he never wanted to do anything to jeopardize that. It was rare for him to ever be around a positive person if he’s being honest.

She simply shrugged and nodded, a yawn escaping her mouth before she looked up at him with hooded eyes, his own narrowing a bit just having a gut feeling something was off. She looked frail almost, he’s never seen her look dull and he didn’t like it. He was used to her being warm and bubbly, so seeing her look so down made his jaw clench. “Hey, look at me Y/n. What’s wrong? Can tell somethings up, want to talk to m’ about it?” her eyes seemed to glaze over a bit at his proposition, she wanted to talk about it but she knew she couldn’t. Her parents had forced into her mind that if she opened her mouth and told people about her feelings or things that went on at home, that god would hate her and she was scared of that. She was too deep in their game to see her parents would be the ones under gods harsh gaze, not her.

So she fought against the thoughts begging to be verbalized and gently shook her head, “No no, it’s okay…we have mass in a few minutes. Wouldn’t have time to talk anyway…it’s alright.” She shot his idea down, which concerned him further but he let it be, listening intently as she spoke again. “C-could I have a hug?” she was shy, she knew her parents would be very angry if they found out she had been alone with a boy, let alone having any physical contact even as simple as a hug or a high five. She hated that rule, and right now she knew the chances of her getting in trouble so she took the chance. She could feel her nerves prick her palms as he waited for his response, yet she felt a bit relieved as he opened his arms and let her press herself into him. She noticed a sense of security warm her while his broad arms hugged her small figure, he stroked her back slightly frowning to himself when he could feel her spine against his thumbs. Only then did he notice how thin she seemed to become since he first met her when she was a freshman and he was a sophomore last year, the girl one year his junior seemed to be shrinking instead of growing which made him a bit alarmed but he knew it wasn’t a good time to pry. Even as calloused as he is emotionally, he still has the ability to read people and what they need so he decided to just give her the comfort she requested, keeping a protective palm resting on her back as he walked into the school’s chapel with her.

Harry loathed the Catholic school his mother forced him to attend, he wasn’t exactly a bible thumper like the nuns and teachers that were breathing down his neck 6 hours out of his day. He didn’t like how the priest looked at his female classmates, or how they used the idea of God to scare people into submission rather then painting him as a warm, forgiving figure that he really should be made out to be. The only reason Harry was still attending the hellish school was because it made his mother happy and feel like her son was safe, and staying out of trouble for at least a good chunk of the day. Harry loved his mother; he knew she wasn’t fond of the trouble maker reputation he seemed to make for himself as he grew into young adulthood. And so, he did her the solid of attending and giving her some peace of mind.

Harry made sure to go into the same pew as Y/n letting out a grunt as he leaned down to his knees on the small padded strip meant to help their knees not hurt as bad yet it did very little to create a barrio between his knee caps and the hard floor beneath.

He mumbled a snarky ‘I’m not the one usually on my knees’ to himself, getting a glare from one of the nuns walking down the aisle doing a head count for student attendance but he only flipped the bird to her when her back was turned. Y/n was struggling to keep her head from resting on the pew in front of her, she was truly struggling to stay awake at this point finding herself jolting a bit every few seconds as she started drifting off, only able to fully get her composure when the head priests voice boomed through the speakers in the chapel, making her flinch and assume her earlier position while he read out a few verses, instructing them to bow their heads and pray along with him. Harry of course mocked the priest while Y/n robotically followed along as much as she didn’t want to, she was too sad to think about the weight of the words from the sacred book and her knees were aching yet she was too afraid to not say it, the fear crawling up her spine when she thought about what her parents would do if they found out she didn’t recite the prayer with her peers.

__

 Somehow Y/n managed to make it through her four class periods, she admittedly had retained nothing she was taught that day and by this point it was 2 in the afternoon and her head was pounding so bad she thought her skull might crack and her brain would eject itself in protest to her lack of hydration and nutrients coming in. she was in agony, and Harry hadn’t left her alone all day because he could read her like a book. To be honest he was scared she might keel over and die from how unwell she looked, and so he caught up to her while she was walking out of the school snagging her elbow, eyes watching as she barely responded to his sudden grasp and shifting so he was facing her. “Hey, hey love let me drive you home. I’m not taking no for an answer you look like you’re going to pass out.”

Y/n was too tired to fight, so she allowed herself to be guided to his car and put into his passenger seat. She smiled slightly with droopy eyes when he buckled her seatbelt for her, softly closing her door walking around the car to get into his place behind the wheel.

A soft grumble emited from her stomach, catching both of their attention and causing her cheeks to blush slightly, “ ‘m sorry, I’m a bit hungry..” Harry nodded while fumbling with his keys, “when’s the last time you ate?” she hesitated for a beat before deciding to be honest, “Lunch yesterday…didn’t have dinner and my parents make me fast every morning so I haven’t eaten.” The boy snapped his heads towards her, eyes widening and heart starting to beat faster in worry “Wait, really? So you haven’t eaten in-“ he paused to do the math in his head, they eat lunch at 11am while at school so now at half past two it had been a really long fucking time. “- 26 hours? Oh god, Y/n that’s not good, that’s not healthy. Here I have some water and a few protein bars left over from practice yesterday.” He popped the glove box open to pull out his snacks, handing two bars to her and grabbing his water bottle from the cup holder to hand to her, cracking it open for her and holding it for her, tipping it against her sleepy lips, seeing as her hands were shaking just holding the cereal bars he didn’t want her to accidently slosh the water all over herself. “thank you” her voice was quiet, but he heard it letting her drink a few more sips before she started to slowly eat the bar, her eyes closed and head resting against the window as she chewed with all the energy she had left. “You not sleeping either?” Y/n shook her head “Not really, have to get up at 4 every morning…went to sleep at 1, so I only got 3 hours…I feel like I’m gonna pass out. I really don’t feel good Harry”

Before he even turned the car on, he was making a mad dash to hold a rouge plastic bag under her chin while she spewed up the food she’d just eaten. He guesses since she hasn’t eaten in so long, the snacks upset her sensitive stomach. Y/n whimpered when the stomach bile forced it’s way out of her mouth into the bag the burning waking her up a bit and causing her to choke on it a bit. Harry didn’t make fun of her like she thought, she fully expected him to kick her out of his car and she wouldn’t blame him. She felt horrible, and very embarrassed yet he kept one hand holding the bag and the other used to tip her forwards do he can rub and pat her back keeping her from aspirating the vomit giving her gentle comforting words while he fished a napkin out of the console to wipe her mouth for her. “It’s alright kid, get it out. Stomach is upset huh? You feel warm too, jeez Y/n I’m sorry you’re not feeling good. How about I stop and get you a ginger ale and take ya’ home so you can get some rest?” she nodded slowly letting a few tears spill over her waterline only to be dried by another tissue held in Harry’s hand. “It’s alright, don’t gotta cry you’ll be okay I promise.”

__

 Harry kept true to his word, getting her a soda and taking her home giving her his number so she could text him if she needed him. Y/n tucked the slip of paper in her sock before exiting the car, she didn’t want her parents to take it from her so she made sure to hide it. “Thank you, I’m sorry your car smells like puke now..” Harry chuckled a bit “It’s alright, it’s smelled worse before. Not exactly the cleanest car in town hon”

The banter was soon finished as he dropped her off, driving off leaving Y/n to go back in her home. Greeting her parents before telling them she wasn’t feeling well and heading upstairs to take a nap finishing the remainder of her soft drink as she tucked herself under her blankets letting herself drift off.

__

When she woke up, it was nearly 10pm and she still felt like she needed a year long slumber to recover, but she knew she didn’t have a chance since her mother had woken her up to do her nightly hour of praying. She was beginning to hate the night routine; it was painful and tiring and she felt vulnerable and small.

When her father noticed her sluggishness he took it as disrespect, not having a care as he yanked his daughter by her underarm to stand bringing her downstairs harshly tossing her onto the couch. He gave no regard to her tears as he screamed at the girl, telling her horrible things and forcing her to hold her knuckles out for him to crack a ruler down on. She had bitten into her cheeks so harshly trying to stop the sobs that she could taste the blood in her mouth, but she didn’t dare speak as she took her punishment. She didn’t understand why he was giving her such a harsh treatment when she hadn’t done anything wrong but none the less she internalized it and made herself believe she deserved it.

“How many times do I have to tell you to sit up straight?! How many times do I have to beat it into you?! You think any man is going to want you when you’re such a sloppy disrespectful girl? You bring shame onto this family Y/n!”

Y/n didn’t miss the bile rising in her throat as her father used an arranged marriage- one she didn’t even want- to guilt her into submission. Her father believed in marrying his daughters off young, usually for a hefty payment. He’d done it to her two older sisters, Alexis when she was 15, and Cassidy when she was merely 13 years old. It wasn’t legal marriage by any means, but the girls didn’t know that. The men her dad basically sold his children to were predators but of course Y/n was made to believe it was normal for her dad to marrying her off to a man 20 years older than her. ‘Gods plan’ he called it, but it was scary to her. she didn’t want it, it made her feel violently ill thinking about having to marry a older man who always made her very uncomfortable when her dad would bring her to meet them. The way they looked at her gave her chills, the requests they made regarding her purity, the services she’d provide them with, it made her feel so objectified she sometimes wished to not wake up some mornings so she didn’t have to feel like she’s one day closer to her fate of being a predators indentured servant, used as a pawn and play thing.

The one time she had hinted she didn’t want to be married off, her mother denied her food for 3 days and made her take cold baths to ‘cleanse her’ of her ‘greedy wants’. Y/n truly felt terrified, she was shaking in front of her father while her brain was going into fight of flight. Her feet raced up the steps when her father dismissed her, and as she locked her bedroom door she remembered the slip of paper in her sock.

She knew the risks of reaching out to Harry, her parents knew of the boy. Everyone in town did, hard to forget a street brawling, angsty teenage boy who has been caught more than once by neighbors shit faced drunk or smoking weed with his friends and of course it caused floods of gossip through the rather conservative community yet she decided the risk was worth it if it gave her a sliver of hope to escape the nightmare she felt she was in.

Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she typed in his number, writing him a text

‘Harry, it’s Y/n are you awake?”

His response was quick, maybe 30 seconds after she’d sent hers

‘yea, what’s up? You alright? Feeling better?’

A fresh wave of tears were building in her eyes, shaky fingers typing out her next message

‘no, Harry please help me. I’m scared please.’

[twokinkybeans]

Company Chapter 2: Yule

Moodboard made by Kim <3

Peter goes back into the woods, pushing through cold and snow to uphold his end of the deal. What will happen during the time he and Oberon spend together?

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of chronic/incurable illness (May’s diabetes), death (specifically Uncle Ben’s), etc. Bullying, Peter drinks like 5 cans of energy drink (within two hours, so that ain’t healthy), magic and folklore, mischief, fluff and angst. Sexual tension, growing bonds. 

Go to the Masterpost for all the teaser poems and chapters!  Read Company - Chapter 2: Yule on AO3 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Took way too long but I made it work, omg!! Am posting from a different browser now, aha! Thanks to everyone who’s already shown this fic so much love! <3 I hope you enjoy!! - Lien

... Oberon stayed true to his word. On November 4 th , Peter woke up to hearing May’s chipper humming in the kitchen. He stared at his ceiling for a while, simply listening to her sweet voice. He could hear the bacon sizzling in the pan, the smell of grease stinging the insides of his nose. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he blinked away the tears. The corners of his mouth curled up in a lopsided smile while he squeezed his eyes shut and silently thanked the Fae. It soon appeared May still had diabetes, as Oberon had said she would. She still had to watch what she ate, but whenever she needed medication of any kind, the next drawer or cupboard she opened contained exactly what she needed. Two Tylenols next to the water glasses when she had a particularly bad headache, insulin in the cutlery drawers before dinner… It was all awfully convenient, yet – strangely enough – no one questioned it. The large grocery store around the corner always seemed to have a discount running on the exact products May would need for her healthy cooking and soon enough May became energized again. Life returned to her and it suited her well. She was able to go back to work as a nurse and now, on December 21 st it was Peter’s turn to hold up his end of the deal. … “Oberon?” Peter calls out weakly. He feels so small surrounded by the tall imposing trees of the crowded forest. All is white, covered in snow, and Peter’s breath condenses in front of him, before he hides the bottom half of his face in Uncle Ben’s worn scarf. He squints, trying not to let the cold cut his skin, and wades through three feet high packs of snow. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. He barely slept last night because of his nerves and after a near-full day of colleges, he’s already quite exhausted. “Oberon?” He tries again, using his gloved hands at his mouth to concentrate the noise. Peter turns as he walks while looking around, trying to find the figure, hugging himself to keep warm. After a long time of searching, Peter sits himself down against a tree with his legs pulled up. How could he ever find Oberon like this? It’s already starting to get dark. His eyes are still strained on the forest around him. He’s quietly frustrated with himself for not arranging a meeting point with the Fae. Maybe Oberon forgot? It’s cold. Peter’s feet have gone wet in his old sneakers and he shivers aggressively. This is no use. Freezing himself to death will do no one any good, but he also doesn’t want to leave. That would mean he didn’t hold up his end of the deal of spending time with Oberon, which will result in May losing access to her medication and newfound luck. Maybe if he- “ Puck ,” a voice whispers in Peter’s ear. The young man yelps startled and crawls away from the tree, looking up wide-eyed at Oberon, now towering over him. The Fae laughs gratuitously with his hands on his hips. When he’s done, he leans forward with a cocked head and a cheeky grin. “Found ya!” Peter scoffs amazed at the man’s mischief and scrambles to stand up. His breath is unsteady through his shivers. “Y-yeah,” he manages to push out with a grateful sigh. “You found me.” Now that Oberon gets to have a closer look at Peter, his smile falters. “You are cold.” It wasn’t even posed as a question. The Fae simply knows. It is rather obvious with Peter’s thrifted and weathered outfit. Peter is slightly stunned by the statement and his eye is drawn to the man’s body. He’s wearing an odd combination of weather appropriate and weather inappropriate attire. He is covered, but the fabric looks awfully thin. Peter nods weakly at Oberon’s comment and the Fae immediately pushes into his space, not allowing Peter to step away from him by caging the student between himself and the neighboring tree. “How long have you been searching for me?” The man’s eyes are intense, worry shaking his irises as he holds their gazes locked. “A while,” Peter says truthfully. “More than an hour.” He sucks at his teeth. “Maybe two.” Not even a second later, a flame appears between the two of them. Its warm glow envelopes Peter immediately. “I am so sorry,” the Fae confesses with twisted brows. “I was expecting you later today. Much like last time you visited. I never meant for you to go cold.” Peter blinks a few times, processing Oberon’s words before replying. “It’s okay. You found me.” A small smile creeps up on Oberon’s face. His voice is soft. Gentle. “I found you.” They stay there for a minute, simply staring at each other as their faces are illuminated by the pleasant heat of Oberon’s flames. “Would you…” Oberon’s voice trails off as he still looks into Peter’s eyes. The young man nods absentmindedly, no clue what he’s agreeing to, but it feels right, somehow… Wait. Peter coughs loudly to help himself snap out of it and he steps away from the fire. From Oberon. “Are you alright?” “Yes!” Peter yelps, startled by the crack of his own voice. “No! I mean-“ He nearly stumbles over again and it takes him a few seconds to regain his composure. “What did you want to ask?” Oberon opens his mouth and closes it again, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Did I…” He frowns and then nods. “Right, I- My house-“ he points away from them in the direction he had initially appeared to have come from. “It’s warm there.” “I shouldn’t follow you,” Peter says bluntly. He already nearly fell for whatever just happened- something that even Oberon didn’t realize he was doing, based on his reaction. “No, you’re right, you shouldn’t…” Oberon purses his lips and then makes another gesture with the hand that holds the flame. “But I do think it’s better to spend those twenty-four hours somewhere comfortable rather than out here, right?” “I think it’s safer for me if we just make a fire here,” Peter ponders out loud. The Fae’s face pulls together in discontent, glancing over Peter’s soaked pants. “No.” “No?” Peter parrots with a scoff. “You’ll freeze to death. I won’t have that.” “But-“

“And there are other Fae out there who aren’t…” Oberon looks away for a second to think his words over and sighs audibly. “…Like me.” Peter scoffs again. “Like you?” “Well-willing.” Peter frowns and pulls his head back a little. Oberon takes a deep breath and explains: “It is winter, Puck. This time of year, Fae who are part of Winter Court are particularly in their element.” He moves his flame from one hand to the other. “You should count yourself lucky no one else found you before I did.” Peter has read up on the different Courts, but didn’t expect them to be real. The Winter Court is considered to be malevolent and is often described as cruel and evil. If they are truly real, then Oberon was right. It would’ve been very bad for Peter if he had run into another Fae. Oberon breaks Peter’s train of thought. “For your sake, we have to go to my home.” Peter takes an uncertain step backwards, holding onto himself and eyeing Oberon with distrust. This might as well be a ruse to get Peter to follow him forever and that is not what he is here for. The Fae sighs agitated. “Fae cannot lie, Puck,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “I promise you that I have no ill intentions towards you and that I will not trick or harm you.” Peter’s features relax for as much as it is possible in the shivering cold. “You promise?” He wishes he sounded more confident. Oberon steps forward again, reaching out his flame-free hand for Peter to take. “I promise, with all my heart.” …

“So,” Oberon says as he rubs his hands together, squeezing the flame before giving it space again. Peter stares at the man’s feet as they walk. Where Peter wades through the snow, Oberon simply saunters on top of it, as if he weighs nothing. A thousand cheeky Lord of the Rings references lay locked in the back of Peter’s throat. He keeps them there, knowing the Fae probably has no idea what it is anyways. “How is your aunt faring?” Peter takes a bigger step, the snow becoming deeper and deeper with every travelled distance. “She’s doing well again,” Peter replies with a smile. “All thanks to you.” “Ah-ah,” Oberon tuts, glancing back at Peter over his shoulder. “Thanks to you .” The man points at Peter. The young man presses his lips on top of each other, clutching his upper arms in an attempt to keep the heat inside his coat. “If you had not gone looking for me, I would not have helped.” “I mean, yeah, but you did all the hard work.” Peter frowns, looking down at where his feet disappear in the snow. They ache with every step and he quietly hopes he gets to keep all of his toes “You could’ve said no.” The student stops and cocks his head. Oberon halts his walk as well, turning to look Peter in the eye properly. The wind picks up and it plays with Peter’s hair. He scrunches his face together at the cold air pushing against his skin. “Hard work,” Oberon scoffs, shaking his head before continuing his trek over the snow. “Subjective.” “It’s true, though!” Peter tries to rush after him, but the deep snow isn’t really working in his favor. “You, young man, need to give yourself more credit.” “Do I?” The Fae laughs out loud and spreads his arms. “We will be spending many hours together, Puck,” he chuckles, not looking back at Peter this time, but Peter can practically hear his giddiness. “I might just teach you a thing or two. Nobody knows self-love as I do.” “It’s not about-“ “How are you doing?” Oberon interrupts him, swiftly steering the conversation away. “Still cold?” “I-“ Peter pauses and purses his lips. He has no idea how far they still have to go until Oberon’s home and though there is something unsettling about the uncertainty, the Fae is disarming. Charming . Peter reminds himself that’s the whole deal about Fae. He’s supposed to make Peter feel comfortable enough to let down his guard- to slip. But he won’t. He can’t afford to lose like that. He can’t afford May to lose him, after everything they’ve been through. “Yeah. Still cold…” “And?” Oberon asks cheekily. “And what?” “Sounded like there should be an ‘and’ after that. And well, you know, something else, whatever your subconscious wanted to say.” Peter scoffs at Oberon’s bluntness and shakes his head. “Alright, fine, I didn’t sleep much last night so I’m tired.” The second the words leave his lips he grabs his mouth with his gloved hand. Why did he say that? Didn’t he literally just tell himself he shouldn’t let down his guard? “You’re… Tired?” Oberon sounds like someone just told him he won the lottery, which only fills Peter with dread. “I mean, not really-“ Peter tries, but the damage had already been done. “You’re tired.” The Fae says one more time, confirming it for himself- both of them. His tone immediately changes to something soothing and Peter isn’t sure yet if he likes it. “That’s alright. I did not expect you to stay awake for me for a full day.” “I’m not sleeping tonight.” “Sure, you won’t.” “No tricks,” Peter reminds Oberon quickly, sucking at his teeth at Oberon’s sass. “As promised.” Oberon shows Peter a kind smile. “It is alright to be wary of me, but as I said, we will be spending quite some time together. The last thing I want for you is to be uncomfortable. Neither of us would enjoy ourselves if you fear your time with me. If you need rest, I would like you to take it.” “I know, but don’t you want me to be awake?” “I asked for company, Puck.” As Oberon says it, the flame in his hand burns a little brighter. “As long as you are with me, the clock ticks. Awake- asleep, it makes no difference.” Peter gently shakes his head, glancing at the shoulder straps of his energy drink-filled backpack. “Not gonna sleep.” “We’ll see, Puck,” Oberon sighs content. “We’ll see.” … Somehow, the rest of the walk is pleasantly silent. It’s not long before a hidden cottage reveals itself among the trees. It looks about ready to fall apart, yet it’s apparently still sturdy enough to survive the dire weather conditions. Oberon opens the door and lets Peter walk in first. “This is me,” the man says shyly. Peter looks around in awe. The space is more like a workshop than a home, but it’s still cozy. Quaint. There’s a fireplace in the corner and the room is lit by a few candles. Peter nearly dares to call it romantic. “Is… Is it alright?” The Fae holds his hands together, waiting for Peter to comment on his home. Peter simply walks around the space, admiring the clutter and the little knick knacks, the herbs hanging from the ceiling and the collection of pillows and blankets on the floor near the fire. “It’s lovely,” Peter sighs breathlessly. A proud smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he immediately moves to what Peter could only describe as some kind of stove. “I’ll make some tea, to warm you up.” “Actually,” Peter interrupts, almost feeling bad about it. “I shouldn’t be taking anything from you, so I brought my own food and drinks.” The young man pivots where he stands, showing his backpack and tapping the side of it. “Well, you should know it’s not smart to refuse anything a Fae offers you.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow, smiling victoriously. “Aha!” Peter exclaims softly with a grin, raising his index finger. “You haven’t offered me anything. You just said you were going to make tea to warm me up.” “Well, I-“ “And since I have enough food and drinks with me to last 24 hours, I’ll be alright, thank you.” Peter swings the backpack off his shoulders and puts it down with a thud and a cocky smirk. “Such a smart boy,” Oberon laughs. “Then I will just make myself tea,” he pauses, eyeing Peter from the side. “While also trying to figure out how to get rid of that backpack.” “You wouldn’t dare,” Peter chuckles. Mischief sparkles dangerously in Oberon’s eyes. “Oh,” he sighs, licking his lips. “I would.” … After a little while of casual conversation and exploring the Fae’s humble home, Peter sits down at the fire. The snow on his clothes is starting to melt, so he decides to unzip his coat and take it off. The temperature here is pleasant anyways and his shoes are already drying by the fire. He shuffles a bit, quiet frustration rising in his chest when his arm gets stuck in the coat. “Hold on,” Oberon says softly, kneeling behind Peter and raising his hands. “May I help? No need to return with a favor of your own.” Peter stares forward, jaw tightened, trying to find anything untrustworthy in the Fae’s words. The frown on his face fades when he realizes there’s probably nothing wrong with what Oberon said. Probably. Peter nods carefully and twitches when he feels the Fae’s warm fingers against his neck, curling around the collar. Hiss shoulders slack and he lets himself be taken care of. Oberon also takes off Peter’s worn scarf and studies the holes in it for a few seconds. Then, he stands up swiftly, hanging the coat over his work chair, in Peter’s line of sight. Peter is startled when the man is suddenly behind him again, fingers gently caressing his shoulders. “What are you doing?” Peter whispers, trying to pretend the gentle kneading doesn’t feel like actual heaven to his stressed muscles. “I am helping,” Oberon simply replies. “You- but the coat?” Peter can feel Oberon’s grin in his neck, paired with his hot breath. It sends shivers down his spine. One hand pushes through Peter’s hair and Peter can’t help himself as he lets it fall back when the Fae’s hand has gone all the way through. “Never specified it was just about the coat.” Shit. The Fae massages a little harder, eliciting an unintentional gasp from Peter. “So tight…” Oberon whispers. Peter is slowly turning to putty. He wants to fight the attention, but he can’t help how good it feels to have his knots kneaded away. “So tired…” “Mm…” Peter’s head lolls forward and the sudden weight he has to catch has his eyes fly wide open. He gasps and pulls away from Oberon’s gentle hands, panting and shaking his head. “Wha-“ The Fae exclaims surprised. “You said no tricks!” Peter calls out offended. He then scrambles to snatch his backpack and clutch it to his chest, wrapping his legs around it as well. “You promised!” Oberon’s face drops. Peter expected him to be frustrated that his evil plan didn’t work out, but instead, he spots fear. “I didn’t mean to-“ “You did! You were-“ Peter pauses to wave one hand haphazardly in Oberon’s direction. “-doing something to me.” “…Giving you a back rub?” Peter opens his mouth to give Oberon a snarky reply, but nothing comes out. He presses his lips together again and frowns with a pout. “I cannot lie, Puck, I can guarantee you that I used no magic.” “But…” The student looks around the house, searching for answers. “Maybe you did something else?” “I did not.” “No… No herbs? In the air?” Peter sounds uncertain and based on Oberon’s loud laughter, the scene has become rather amusing. “Are you hearing yourself?” Peter immediately makes himself smaller, embarrassed. “No, Puck, I assure you; all I want for you is to be comfortable. You are obviously exhausted. I am trying to help you unwind.” The Fae stands up to go back to his stove, where the water he put on is nearly boiling. He grabs a pot from the counter and fills it with the water. “As promised-“ He looks up at the dried herbs on the ceiling and takes bits from a few, smelling them before tossing them in the pot as well. “-no magic. No tricks. It’s just you and me here.” “Then why did you seem so happy when I told you I was tired?” Peter shuffles where he sits, slowly relaxing his muscles again, but still eyeing the Fae – who now walks back to where Peter sat earlier to sit down himself – cautiously. “Because I am weird and find sleeping humans fascinating, next question.” Oberon obviously doesn’t want to linger on the subject, which makes Peter want to ask further all the more. “Elaborate,” he says simply. Oberon scoffs, placing the pot down in front of him on the small table. “Okay, then,” Oberon sighs deep and turns to face Peter. Their gazes lock and the Fae rolls his shoulders before continuing. “Your face. 42 muscles, right?” “Right.” “They’re engaged and stressed. You tighten them for all of your expressions, for when you speak…” It’s quiet for a second as he ponders his next words. He uses his hands to enunciate. “Your smiles and your tears are all accompanied by the use of your muscles.” The Fae repositions himself where he sits, crossing his legs and leaning in slightly. “When humans sleep, they lose all tension. They relax and drop their masks.” “You think I wear a mask when I’m with you?” “You wear worry. I wish for it to fade.” Oberon cocks his head the other way, his expression is soft and kind. “It fades when you sleep.” “You’re saying it as if you don’t sleep.” “Fae do not sleep. Well,” Oberon pauses and sucks at his teeth, nodding left and right as he looks up. “Not like humans. We can sleep and we do, but we don’t need it like humans do.” “So…” Peter looks down at his backpack, pressing his chin into it. “You want to watch me sleep?” He scoffs softly, but smiles. “That’s kinda creepy.” “Hey, I already said I’m weird.” Oberon shrugs casually and pours himself a cup of herb-infused tea. “You are very pretty, Puck.” The compliment catches Peter off guard and it has him sit up a little straighter. “Last time we met, when you cried, all I wanted was for your sorrow to leave. It is why I agreed on our deal- why I suggested company.” He puts the pot back down and gently nudges it away from him. He curls his fingers around the cup, holding it tightly. “I am a lonely man and you are a kid in dire need of some time to let go.” Peter’s shoulders relax again and he looks down, now awfully aware of the frown on his face. A frown Oberon just said he wants gone. “Lonely…” Peter mutters before looking back up at the Fae again. “You said there are others like you out there? Don’t you spend time with them?” Oberon immediately averts his gaze and takes another sip from his tea. “No.” He doesn’t say anything else, which naturally causes Peter’s curiosity to grow. “Why not?” Peter leans in slightly, placing his backpack next to him and scooting a little closer. “That is not important.” “Mmmmmmmmmmmm-it kind of is,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon pulls a face and cocks his head. “How so?” “Well, if you and I are – and I quote – ‘spending a lot of time together,’ then I think it’ll benefit both of us if we’re honest with each other?” Oberon immediately grins. “Then how about you start by telling me your name?” “Ha-ha,” Peter laughs sarcastically. “I meant it as in; you know all about me after last time, it’s only fair I get to know you too.” “I will tell you Puck,” Oberon sighs. “Just… Not yet. Not now.” The sparkle in his eyes surprisingly returns. “Besides, you are infinitely more interesting.” Peter scoffs. “Am not.” “Are too.” “How old are you?”

“Older than you think I am.” … By the time Peter’s clothes have finally dried, he is laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It kind of feels like he’s floating, surrounded by all the pillows and blankets. He’s comfortable and warm, yet also buzzing with his fourth can of Monster. He’s been chugging them one after another and part of him regrets raising his blood pressure and heart rate like this. Peter’s hands are folded into one another, resting on his stomach as he blinks in an attempt to keep his mind straight. Colors slowly fade together and the room seems to be vibrating. He can hear the beat of his heart thrumming between his ears and an occasional twitch prevents him from getting too comfortable. Oberon has left Peter to do some chores in and around the room. They talked for a few hours now and the man seems to understand Peter’s social battery has drained. Peter’s almost surprised how easily their conversations came when he let down his guard a little. Oberon seemed to stay true to his word and refrained from pulling any tricks. Now, he shuffles around the space, letting Peter alone with his thoughts. They have to stick together for the deal to work out, though. It’s not long before Peter swallows and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. Maybe starting that fifth can was a mistake. The room spins, even when his eyes are shut. He mumbles and his embarrassment about the situation makes him unsure if he wants Oberon to hear it. “I’m gonna-“ He can’t even finish his sentence before rolling over and catching himself, pulling up to hurl. Oberon is immediately at his side, offering a bucket for Peter to spill into. “There, there…” Oberon says softly, helping Peter through it by gently placing his hand on Peter’s head. “Was already wondering when your body would reject that chemical sugar bomb.” Peter squeezes his eyes shut and hides his face in the bucket to prevent Oberon from seeing his embarrassed red cheeks. He takes a minute to breathe before coming back up. He glances at his left and spots a wet cloth. He stares at it for a little bit, unsure of whether or not he can touch it. The Fae read his mind. “Take it. The water on it is warm.” Peter scoffs into the bucket in an attempt to conceal another gag. “What’s in it, chloroform?” Oberon chuckles above him. “If I really wanted you to sleep, you would’ve been out hours ago, Puck.” Peter smiles and shakes his head, but he does move to grab the fabric and clean his mouth. It takes a minute before Peter’s head is cleared again. He takes a shaky breath and turns to be met with Oberon’s intense stare. The Fae is leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his mouth behind his hands to hold his head up. Peter raises his eyes questioningly, to which Oberon responds with a deep sigh as he sits up straight again. “What do I need to do to gain your trust?” Peter immediately looks away again, pressing his lips on top of each other and shaking his head slightly. “Dunno.” “Alright, alright,” Oberon says as he raises his hands and shuffles where he sits. “Remember that promise I made? The one where I said I wouldn’t trick you?” Peter’s eyes flick back and forth between the fire and Oberon. “Yeah…?” “I cannot break that promise, Puck. It would harm me if I did.” Oberon sniffs and shuffles closer to Peter, who can’t find the strength to move away. “Let me reiterate: I promise you that I have no ill intentions towards you and that I will not trick or harm you.” Oberon sucks at his teeth and raises his eyebrows. “Ever.” He glances at the fire, crackling softly, and continues. “That includes food and drink, song and dance, monologue and conversation. I will not use my magic to inflict pain on you, nor do I have any interest in your true name. I do not want it, though I may jest. I only want your company.” Sincerity drips from Oberon’s lips and it takes a second for Peter to realize he’s staring at them. At how plump they are, how soft they look… He blinks and turns away again. “I believe you.”

“Then rest.” “No.” “Argh-“ Oberon lets out a frustrated groan. “Your stubbornness is endless.” He stands up and makes his way back to the kitchen area to shuffle around some stuff. “I- I just don’t want to sleep, okay?” Peter crosses his arms and puffs. “Can’t you help me stay awake?” “Didn’t I literally just say I wouldn’t use magic on you?” Oberon shakes his head with a chuckle. Suddenly, he pauses his movement. “It is not me, is it?” His grin grows wider and he pushes his tongue into his cheek. “You don’t want to sleep because of you .” Peter’s eyes widen in shock and he opens his mouth to say something, yet nothing comes out. The giddy sparkle in Oberon’s eye returns and he rushes to kneel next to Peter again. “What is it? Do you snore? Are you embarrassed because you snore?” “Wha- no, I don’t-“ “Oh!” Oberon interrupts with his exclamation, smiling brightly with his palms on his cheeks. Then, he leans in, until Peter is sandwiched between Oberon and the wall. His excitement is endearing, yet Peter fears what Oberon will say next. “You talk.” Peter breaks eye contact and looks down, not wanting to face the Fae. “You talk,” Oberon repeats in a whisper. Luckily for Peter, Oberon notices his discomfort and moves back, returning the space to Peter. “Why does that bother you? Many people speak when they sleep.” Peter tightens his jaw, keeping his lips sealed. “I can keep filling in the blanks if you want, I am quite good at guessing. Or you can tell me yourself and we will find a way around it together.” Oberon’s remark has Peter sit up in surprise, dropping his shoulders. “Names.” This time, Oberon is taken aback. “I talk about my friends a lot. My family…” Peter pulls in his legs to hug himself. “I don’t want to give you names.” Oberon nods, pursing his lips. “I understand.” He sniffs and raises his eyebrows. “Though, I do need you to understand that empty names do not have any effect.” “But they aren’t empty, they are people I know,” Peter counters. “But I do not know them.” A corner of Oberon’s mouth curls up. “There are so many people out there with the same name,” he explains. “You could exclaim any name, Jane, John, Patricia, Peter-” Peter’s entire body stiffens at the mention of his name. He’s quietly grateful that Oberon looked the other way as he was going by his list. “As long as I don’t know the face attached, there’s no need to worry.” Peter looks at Oberon with big eyes. “Promise?” The Fae responds with a kind smile. “Promise.” Oberon moves to shuffle around some of the pillows and blankets on the floor to make a small nest. It looks comfortable, but right now Peter could go for anything, really. “Now, please,” Oberon practically begs. “Take your rest.” He gestures at the makeshift bed. “Sleep.” This time, Peter didn’t have to be told twice. He shuffles past Oberon, feeling the Fae’s eyes press into his back. When he reaches the spot, he doesn’t even lay down anymore- he just drops himself onto the soft, plush pillows. He vaguely hears Oberon speak, but his mind has already stopped processing the words as he drifts into a dreamless sleep. … Peter wakes the next day, head still groggy, to find Oberon completely focused on sewing something. The young man moves to sit up straight and then realizes what exactly Oberon is sewing. “Hey!” He exclaims, moving to grab it from Oberon. The Fae expertly twists around Peter’s hand, preventing Peter from ripping it from his grip. “That’s Uncle Ben’s, don’t touch that!” The second the words leave Peter’s lips, he grabs the bottom half of his face to shut himself up. Oberon looks at him surprised. Something sad seems to wash over the Fae- something… Knowing. “Has he passed?” Peter drops himself back into the pillows, sitting with his legs crossed. “He has,” Oberon confirms for himself. “I am sorry for your loss.” “Thanks…” Peter mumbles, eyes still strained on Oberon’s skilled fingers threading the needle through the scarf. “I don’t have a lot of him left, that scarf is important to me.” “It seemed like it would fall apart any minute. I am merely sewing up the holes,” Oberon says. “With thread made of the feathers of a Phoenix.” “Wha-“ “Now, whenever you wear it, you will not be cold, as the flames of the firebird will keep you warm.” “I thought you said no magic.” “I promised I would not use my magic on you ,” Oberon quips. “This is a Phoenix’s magic that is being interwoven with a scarf that you might happen to wear regularly.” Peter groans and lays back down again. “You finding ways around your promises isn’t going to make me trust you more.” “I did not do anything funny when you were asleep, if that’s what you mean. I watched you for a while, but you did not speak much. You mentioned May a few times, which may or may not be the month.” Oberon’s pun is paired with a wink and Peter opts to wave away the fact that Oberon literally watched him sleep. “You said ‘Ned’ once. Told them to hand you a 2x4, whatever that might mean.” Peter scoffs a laugh. “Legos,” the student mumbles. “What was that?” “It’s a standard Lego brick. You can build things with that.” “For leisure?” Oberon seems to be finishing up the scarf, tying some last knots. Peter hums in agreement. “I guess you could say Legos are toys.” Oberon smirks, but still does not look up. “I also do enjoy playing with… Toys.” His voice is a little darker, resulting in a shiver running down Peter’s spine. “The toys being humans?” Oberon eyes Peter with a grin, but before Peter can remark on how, once again, saying things like that isn’t helping Oberon’s case, Oberon stands up and hands Peter Ben’s scarf. “It is done.” Oberon’s smile is warm, as is the fabric that he places in Peter’s hand. Peter studies the scarf, amazed at how the holes- even the big ones- have been fixed completely. If Peter didn’t wear that scarf every single day, he probably wouldn’t even be able to tell where the holes used to be. The fabric seems to emit heat, as Oberon had hinted it would. Peter smiles at it and brings it to his face to smell his uncle’s persistent cologne on it. “Thank you.” His voice sounds muffled in the wool. “You’re welcome,” Oberon replies simply. “I do not need or want anything for it in return. Good afternoon, by the way.” Peter sits up straight immediately. “A-afternoon?” “You slept long and deep. I did not want to wake you; your rest seemed needed.” “How many hours do we-” “Four-ish.” The Fae stands up. “Would you like to go for a walk?” “I- yes,” Peter scrambles to stand up, giving the Fae an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I-” “You kept me company, Puck. As I said, that is all I want.” Oberon smiles. “Though, now you are awake, I intend to make the most of it.” The Fae grabs Peter’s coat and hands it to him. He then turns to the door and opens it. The ice cold wind that enters, forms goosebumps on Peter’s skin. He instinctively wraps the scarf around himself and is surprised to find that it is not just warm around his neck. The scarf warms all of him, even though he is not wearing his coat yet. He looks up at Oberon wide-eyed. The Fae smiles wide at him. “The wonder in your eyes warms me, as the scarf warms you.” He then nods at the snow-white world outside. “Shall we?” … “So,” Oberon starts after a short, silent walk. “Your uncle was important to you?” “Is,” Peter corrects him. “He and my aunt raised me to be who I am.” Peter hides his face behind the scarf as he steps through the snow. Once again, Oberon walks over it, while Peter wades through. The magic of the scarf now keeps him dry and warm, unlike yesterday. “There is no way he could ever not be important to me.” “And he passed suddenly?” Peter doesn’t necessarily enjoy the interrogation, but he feels bad for sleeping so long, so he indulges the Fae. For now. “Got shot by robbers,” he mumbles. “Sounds like there’s more to it,” Oberon adds insightfully. Peter isn’t just going to tell Oberon the whole thing, though. The man didn’t want to tell Peter about his past just yet either. “Don’t,” Peter pushes out. Oberon stops in his tracks, while Peter continues his strides. “Let me guess,” he speaks louder to have his words bridge the growing distance between the two of them. “You think it is your fault.” Now, Peter halts too. “It was,” he mutters to himself, before shaking his head and continuing his walk. “Hey!” Oberon shouts suddenly, causing Peter to turn back surprised, only to be met with a force that makes him lose his balance and fall into the snow, ass first. He yelps at the cold hitting his face and gasps for air. The Fae had thrown a snowball at him. Peter blinks once. Twice. Then, he chuckles, leaving his worries behind to grab some snow with his hands and press it together. He scrambles to stand up just in time, so he can dodge a second snowball coming his way. He nearly stumbles over, but manages to throw the ammunition he just made back at Oberon. “Gotcha!” Peter cheers victoriously when he hits his target in the chest, but quickly rushes to run away, laughing. “I will get you for that!” “You started it!” Peter yelps as he dodges yet another snow ball. They chase each other for a little bit, until they both spot the town with the train station in the distance. “Oh, we’re here?” Peter asks, looking back in the direction where they just came from. Oberon nods as he joins Peter with his hands on his hips. “That’s not actually that far.” “I made it not far.” Peter frowns at Oberon’s words and looks up at him confused. “Made it?” “My home cannot just be found by anybody. I decide where it is when.” Peter nods, understanding yet also not understanding. Fae magic is strangely convenient. Trying to figure it out might be a little too ambitious for him for now. Maybe they could talk about it more extensively next time Peter comes over. Peter inwardly scoffs when he realizes he’s already looking forward to next time. Both men are startled at Peter’s suddenly growling stomach. “You haven’t eaten yet,” Oberon states. Peter chuckles nervously as he eyes his backpack. “Only got two more energy drinks in there. Don’t think I’ll ever wanna chug a can again, though.” “That poison does not count as breakfast,” Oberon laughs. “Would you like to go into town and buy something?” “Don’t have money,” Peter says, quickly deciding to add: “On me right now.” To make it seem less suspicious. Oberon knows better, though. Peter isn’t rich at all and before yesterday he had spent all of his cash on the cans of Monster to keep himself awake. “I have money.” Oberon smiles and starts walking towards the town, before Peter could protest. “Come on, my treat.” … Not much later, both Peter and Oberon walk out of the bakery with some fresh croissants. They sit down on a bench nearby and Peter gratefully devours the food. He isn’t sure if Oberon simply eats along because he genuinely wants to, or to just be polite. Peter doesn’t really care about that, though. He’s glad he gets to eat some proper food again. He’s also glad he managed to loosen up a little more around Oberon. The man is genuinely nice and now that Peter has the promise to rely on, he can finally relax a little… “YO, PENIS PARKER!” Time stops. Peter’s eyes widen and he turns his head to where the familiar voice came from. “Parker?” He hears Oberon mumble under his breath and he wishes he could just disappear. Peter stands up quickly and nearly drops his breakfast. Oberon stays seated, simply staring at his food with a scowl on his face. “The hell are you doing here, Penis?” Flash swaggers towards them. For once, Peter is grateful for the nickname. However, his bully did manage to give his last name to Oberon. “Thought you were broke.” “Train travel is free, remember?” Peter says through gritted teeth. “Ah, right, you travel by train,” Flash scoffs. “Like all the other commoners.” He rolls his eyes at Peter’s balled fists. “Still, though. Didn’t think you’d ever go here of all places.” “Why are you here then?” “None of your fucking business, Penis.” Flash then bends sideways to look past Peter. “Who’s the dude you’re with?” “My- eh, my uncle-“ “Your uncle?” Flash’s condescending laugh rumbles through Peter’s entire being. He hasn’t seen Flash since high school, yet the asshole still manages to make him feel so small and insignificant. “You mean the dead guy?” The air is knocked out of Peter’s lungs and his voice is shaky when he speaks again. “N-No, he-“ “Quiet.” Oberon’s words cut through the conversation like a sharp knife. He stands up collected, but his eyes are icey. Nothing like what Peter has ever seen before. His warmth has disappeared. A strange cold- colder than the actual temperature outside- seems to seep from his body and he slowly passes Peter to look down at Flash. The usually so confident bully flinches at Oberon’s presence. Part of Peter is glad there is literally no one else on the streets right now. “What’s your name, kid?” Peter’s eyes widen and he immediately steps between them. “Flash- this is Flash.” Oberon’s ice shifts to Peter, who freezes where he stands. “I do not want a nickname. Not this time, Puck.” “Ugh, why is everyone in your family weird?” Flash groans and turns back. “If he even is your uncle and not some guy you’re selling your body to for cash. We all know you need it.” “ Flash ,” Oberon seethes. “If I hear one more foul word from your lips, you will regret it, I promise you.” Flash scoffs, but Peter knows it’s more than an empty threat. “Whatever, dude.” Flash turns. “I was leaving anyways. Have fun, dickwads .” Flash saunters off and Peter barely dares to look at Oberon. His eyes glow bright and blue, and the ice that Peter had only felt up until now, now grows from Oberon’s crow’s feet to his hair. The Fae raises his hand in front of him with a clenched jaw. Peter wants to stop him by grabbing his arm, but judging by how the ice also grows from the tips of his fingers and up his wrists, it looks like Peter might lose a finger or two if he tried. “Oberon?” Peter tries quietly. “I promised, didn’t I?” He growls. His voice sounds off. Dark. Peter turns his head to look at Flash, who is still walking away. He does seem to have a quickened pace, which was probably because he could also feel Oberon’s intimidating magic. “Please, don’t hurt him-“ Peter begs. Oberon shifts to look at Peter surprised, seemingly realizing what he’s doing. He takes a deep breath and drops his arm, the ice on his skin receding back to wherever it had come from. “I-“ Oberon furrows his brows. “I haven’t used that kind of magic in years-“ He seems genuinely taken aback by his own actions and Peter finally dares to move in to grab his upper arm. “It’s okay, I- I’m not scared.” “You lie,” Oberon sighs. “I don’t want to be the reason for more hurt, that’s all.” Peter takes a breath, pushing the memories of his uncle’s death away. Oberon rolls his shoulders. “I did make a promise, though. Some mischief needs to be done.” “Any… Harmless things you can do to him?” Oberon glances at Flash in the distance again, thinks for a second and then nods, grinning wide. “I have a little something in mind.” He brings up his hand again, but holds his palm up instead of down this time. “No matter the grip on the shoes you wear, may you slip, slide and trip whenever you swear.” A cold breeze carries the spell that appears in Oberon’s hand towards Flash at the other side of the road and nearly immediately he yelps and lands on his butt. Peter can’t help but chuckle and turn to face Oberon again, who looks at him with a proud smile. “That alright?” “Perfect.” … The last few hours flew by. The two men finished their croissants and continued their walk through town. They talked and talked, skillfully evading sensitive topics about their past and the odd, cold magic Oberon had conjured earlier. Peter was grateful that, even though Oberon now knew it, he didn’t mention Peter’s last name. He is still afraid it might come back to haunt him one day, but for now, at least Oberon is respectful about it. As he said, he doesn’t want Peter’s name. He just wants his company. After the twenty-four hours pass, Oberon drops him off at the train station. “Guess this is it for today, huh?” Peter says quietly, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “I promise I’ll sleep less next time.” “Oh, dear,” Oberon laughs. “We take our promises seriously, Puck. Might be wise to set an alarm next time, then.” Peter laughs. “I will, I will. As easy as it is to just sleep through, I still don’t think it’s fair to you.” “Company, Puck,” Oberon smiles as he moves in to grab Peter’s hands and hold them to his chest. “All I want is company.” His breath is warm on Peter’s lips and Peter absentmindedly licks them. He’s surprised to find himself disappointed that he couldn’t taste the Fae. “When do I see you again?” He doesn’t dare to break eye contact with Oberon. The Fae is so close to him. It’s overwhelming, yet he can’t move away. “Imbolc,” Oberon whispers. “February 1 st .” “That’s a long wait.” “I’ll count the days.” Oberon smiles, finally stepping back from Peter to give him some space. He hopes nobody saw them standing like that. Otherwise they might’ve thought what Flash did. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says politely with a curt nod before stepping through the gates. “Of course, Puck. Until next time!” Oberon waves. When Peter raises his hand to wave back, a woman passes in front of him. When she steps out of his field of vision, Oberon has disappeared. In the train back to New York, he mulls over everything that had happened the past twenty four hours. “I’ll count the days,” Oberon had said. “Me too, Oberon,” Peter mumbles as the train makes its way into New York City. He closes his eyes. “Me too.”

[ceealaina]

Title: Still Anticipating Love Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Cock-Blocking Bots Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: 5 + 1, Fluff and Humour, Protective Bots, Love Confessions Gone Wrong Summary: Five (plus one) different times over the years that Rhodey's attempted to show Tony how he feels about him, only to end up foiled by the bots. (But it's hard to really be upset when they just happen to love Tony as much as Rhodey does.) Word Count: 3993

Rhodey drew in slow, deep breaths as he made his way across campus, doing his best to quell the fireworks that seemed to be going off in his stomach. After spending months ignoring his feelings, and then a few more weeks dancing around them, and then a few days finally coming to terms with it, he had decided that this was it. Today was the day that he was going to tell Tony about his feelings for him. 

He almost turned back three different times, his nerves getting the better of him. But somehow he made himself keep going, and before he knew it he was standing in front of the door to Tony’s rented lab space, drawing in one last deep breath for courage. 

“Tones?” he called, stepping through the doorway. “You in here?” 

“Rhodey!” Tony popped up from behind a table, face lit up in manic delight. “Just the man I wanted to see!” He practically bounced across the room, grabbing his arm and getting all up in his space in a way that made Rhodey swallow hard and fight back a shiver. “I did it, honeybear!” 

“Did what?” 

“Just… Just watch, wait.” He pulled Rhodey back closer to the door, and then made a show of clearing his throat. “Dum-E?” he called, and the machine he’d been working on for months lit up. “Come here!” 

Dum-E whirred to life and then, to Rhodey’s surprise, he started rolling across the floor -- in the opposite direction to Tony and Rhodey. 

“Shit, no!” Tony protested, but he was laughing and sounded pleased. “Wrong way, you doofus, over here.” 

There was a pause, and then Dum-E spun on his wheels and started trundling over, going the right way this time. He stilled when he reached them, and Tony threw his arms around the claw neck. 

“Aw yeah,” Tony crooned. “You did it, Dum-E! Who’s my big strong robot, huh?” 

He turned to Rhodey then, his entire face lit up in a bright, beaming smile, looking as happy as he’d ever seen him. Rhodey couldn’t have kept himself from smiling back if he tried, feeling a little weak in the face of it. He could hear his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears, and god, he just loved him so much. 

“I did it, Rhodey,” Tony was saying. “He responds to voice commands. I built a learning, thinking robot. And the wrong direction thing was just a glitch, I swear. He’s gonna get so much better.” 

He was watching Rhodey expectantly, that hopeful look on his face that Rhodey knew meant he just wanted someone to be proud of him, even if he’d never admit that out loud, and Rhodey knew this wasn’t the right time to tell him. Feeling a weird mixture of relief and disappointment, Rhodey beamed back at him. “He’s already perfect, Tones,” he assured him, wrapping him in a hug. Tony immediately melted into it, and Rhodey felt pleasantly warm all over. “He’s amazing.” 

Just like you. 

***

Rhodey was grinning like an idiot as he ran up the front steps to the Stark Mansion, but he didn’t much care. He hadn’t seen Tony since his parents’ funeral just over a year, and he had missed him like crazy. They had talked as often as possible, had even taken to writing letters (despite Tony’s complaints about both being allergic to penmanship, and the speed of the postal service), but it hadn’t been the same. Rhodey had half expected that his crush might fade with some distance between them, but instead he’d missed Tony in a way that he hadn’t ever experienced before, like an aching hole in his chest, and it had only gotten stronger the longer they’d been apart. It was almost embarrassingly sappy, but he figured that was as good an indication as any that it was true love. 

Bouncing impatiently as he waited for someone to answer the door, he fidgeted with the little box in his hands. It was a completely goofy gift -- he’d met a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy and so on until he’d managed to get his hands on a discarded nut from the Voyager 2 spacecraft -- but he knew it was exactly the kind of thing that Tony would nerd out over. He couldn’t wait to see Tony’s face when he opened it. And he was hoping that Tony would recognize it as more than just a piece of metal, would see the intentions behind it and then, when Rhodey told him how he felt, he wouldn’t be completely taken off guard. Because he knew he had to tell him, felt like he might explode if he didn’t. 

The door swung open then, Jarvis welcoming him in with a warm, pleased smile, looking almost relieved. Rhodey did his best to be polite, but he wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded. Jarvis didn’t seem to mind at least, still smiling as he directed him to where Tony was apparently busy in his workshop. Rhodey had only been here a handful of times -- it hadn’t exactly been Tony’s top vacation destination in school -- but he knew the way instinctively, taking the stairs to the basement at a run. 

“Tony?” he called. The lights were dim for some reason, and he blinked as he stumbled into the room before his eyes had properly adjusted. “Guess who’s back, baby?” He waved the little box in his air. “And I brought you prese-ah, fuck!” he hollered as he was suddenly doused in a thick, bubblegum scented foam. “What the fuck?” 

A second later the room was flooded with bright light, nearly blinding Rhodey, and there were footsteps coming toward him. 

“Honeybear?” Tony said, sounding a little shell shocked. “Oh shit, okay. Just… Hang on a second. Don’t open your eyes! And, uh… Try not to breathe too deep either.” 

He was gone before Rhodey could question what the hell that meant. Left sightless, Rhodey listened to the sounds of Tony’s footsteps, disappearing to the far side of the room. There were sounds of scrambling, and then water running, and then he was jogging back over again. Rhodey nearly jumped at the feeling of Tony’s hand, warm against his upper back, and then again when a cool cloth was pressed against his face, sliding carefully over his eyes with painstakingly gentle motions. When they felt clear, and Tony gave him the okay, Rhodey blinked them carefully open. Tony was staring back at him, his own eyes wide and concerned, though that was starting to ease a bit.

“Hey,” he said, his smile uneven. “Sorry about that.” 

Rhodey smiled back, but felt his heart sink. Tony looked terrible; there were dark circles under his eyes, he was way skinnier than Rhodey had remembered him being, and he was pretty sure he could smell alcohol on his breath. None of this had been in Tony’s letters, and Rhodey couldn’t help wondering what else he’d been missing over the past year. Suddenly the relieved look on Jarvis’ face made a bit more sense.

He had a lot of questions he wanted to ask, beginning with, ‘what the actual hell?’ but Tony was watching him nervously, and Rhodey could practically see the anxiety spreading across his face. He sighed, scrubbing a hand through the foam still gathered in his short hair. “What was that?” 

“Oh, uh…” Tony rubbed at the back of his neck, smiling that same crooked smile. “I was working on a new, non-lethal thief deterrent? There’s so much proprietary information here, and Dad had this crazy organization system that I don’t understand, and there are so many people and they all want things…” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up wildly. “So I thought, you know, I could train Dum-E? If he sees something he determines as a threat, like a weapon or something, he’s supposed to douse them with this foam that’ll stop them long enough for me to get away or call the police or set off an alarm of whatever. But uh, I’m still working on the formula for the deterrent, and then, you know, it’s Dum-E, so getting him to understand what constitutes a threat is pretty much impossible. Right now it’s just about anything that’s bigger than a wallet. You definitely shouldn’t have been on the list.” His rambling trailed off, still looking nervous but also so relieved to see him that for a moment Rhodey thought he might actually start to cry. 

“Okay,” Rhodey said, offering Tony a smile in return. “Does it have to smell like bubblegum though?” 

Tony gave a startled laugh, and then he was launching himself at Rhodey, wrapping his arms around his neck and practically crawling into his lap, foam and all. Rhodey returned the hug automatically, feeling Tony’s back shudder a little as he pressed his face into his neck. 

“God I missed you, Rhodey,” he whispered, voice cracking. 

Rhodey cast one last glance at the box he’d wrapped so carefully, now lying forgotten on the floor. This wasn’t the day for love confessions. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around Tony’s back instead. “I missed you too, Tones.” 

***

Rhodey frowned as he stepped through the front door of the Malibu mansion, but the lights stayed dim. “Uhh…” He blinked into the dark space. “Hey, J? You offline or something?” 

“I can assure you that I am fully functional, Captain Rhodes,” JARVIS replied. “Welcome back to Malibu,” he added after a beat, and Rhodey’s frown deepened, because he could swear that JARVIS sounded… Colder than usual. 

Telling himself it was his imagination, Rhodey waited a moment. There was no additional commentary from JARVIS, and he sighed. “Could I get some light, maybe?” 

JARVIS didn’t actually respond, but after a few seconds the lights came on, just a little too dim to be quite comfortable. 

“Okayyy,” Rhodey muttered. He shook his head. “Where’s Tony?” 

“Sir is indisposed at the moment, Captain Rhodes.” 

“Indisposed?” Rhodey repeated, taken aback. He’d been talking to Tony less than an hour ago, he’d known he was on his way over, and while it wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to get distracted with something and forget, Rhodey was always given full access to everything. “What do you mean, he’s indisposed? And I’m a Major now, JARVIS, you know that. What the hell is going on?” 

There was another long silence before JARVIS spoke again. “Sir has been encouraging me to consume media and information, to help me better understand the human experience.” 

“Uh huh…” Rhodey knew that; Tony had mentioned as much to Rhodey, talking about how he wanted JARVIS to learn and make his own conclusions independent of what Tony thought or believed. “And?” 

“And I’ve noticed similarities between your own actions and behaviours in certain popular media.” 

Rhodey arched an eyebrow, flopping down on the long sofa and folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not following.” 

“I believe, Major Rhodes, that this is the point in which I ask what, exactly, your intentions are with Sir.” 

Rhodey choked on air. “My intentions?” he repeated incredulously. “Are you threatening me? What the fuck, J? I’ve literally known you since you were born.” And then he clued into what, exactly, JARVIS was saying. “Holy shit,” he hissed, looking around frantically in case Tony had suddenly wandered into earshot. “You… I mean, you can… How… You know??” 

JARVIS sounded confused. “It was a simple matter of observing your behaviours and comparing them to the media for analysis, and then observing the physical changes to your body when in proximity to Sir -- primarily a mildly elevated heart and respiratory rate.” 

“Oh my god,” Rhodey moaned, burying his hands in his face. “How is this my life?” 

“For what it’s worth,” JARVIS offered. “I believe Sir remains unaware of your feelings toward him.” 

“Yeah, no,” Rhodey agreed, still mumbling into his hands. “That is a fact that I am all too aware of.” He heaved in a deep sigh before letting his arms drop back down to his sides. “Okay JARVIS. So first, we’re gonna have to have a talk sometime about monitoring people’s vitals without their knowledge or consent. But, uh, in answer to your first question…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Shit, J, you gotta know by now that all I want is for Tony to be happy. That’s all I care about. Everything else is just… Whatever.” 

“And you think that he would be happy with you?” 

“I think that ship has sailed,” Rhodey admitted, feeling a pang in his chest as he finally said the words out loud. “It’s been years. If something was gonna happen… I think we’d have found our way there by now.” 

It was quiet for long enough that Rhodey thought JARVIS had gone into sleep mode, or whatever AIs did in lieu of unconsciousness. He was about to try his luck again at figuring out where Tony was in this ridiculous palace of a home when JARVIS spoke again. 

“Well,” he said, his voice warmer. “I wouldn’t give up hope entirely, Major Rhodes.” 

***

Rhodey and Tony were sprawled in the front seat of one of Tony’s roadsters, two and a half movies deep into their Evil Dead marathon. Like the dork he was, Tony had decided they were going to project the movies onto the wall of his workshop, so they could watch from the car like they were in some kind of 1960s drive-in. 

He hated how much he loved him sometimes. 

RIght now though, he was feeling lazy and satisfied, full on pizza and wings, and just the right side of tipsy on the beer he’d brought, laughing as Tony recited the movie word for word, complete with altering his voice to try and mimic the characters. 

Stretching out his arms and back (and resisting the urge to take advantage of the movement and hook his arm over Tony’s shoulders, because he wasn’t twelve), Rhodey kicked his feet up on the dash, shifting on the seat a little in the process.

“Hey,” Tony protested, not actually sounding that concerned. “That’s a custom dash, asshole. Feet off. Or else.” 

“Oh yeah?” Rhodey snickered. “Or else what?”

He rolled his head to face Tony, eyebrow arched, and then blinked. Tony was much closer than he’d realized. He’d slunk down in the seat, leaving him a few inches lower than Rhodey, and he was looking up at him with lazy, hooded eyes. He was Rhodey’s favourite version of Tony, comfortable, and happy, and beautiful, and his breath caught a little at the sight of him. 

Something changed in Tony’s expression then, his eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to get a read on Rhodey. Whatever he saw made him swallow, tongue sliding out over his upper lip. Rhodey couldn’t tear his eyes away, only vaguely aware of the fact that he was moving closer and closer to him. Tony didn’t seem to mind, lips parting slightly before he shifted just enough to face him more squarely. Rhodey could feel his heart racing as Tony got closer, eyes dark, and --

There was an almighty crash from the corner. Tony pulled away, whipping his head around to stare over the back of the car, eyes going wide. “U!” he cried, launching himself over the back of the car. Rhodey let his forehead fall against the seat of the car for just a moment before looking up to where U had apparently managed to crash into the wall and tip herself over. 

“Seriously?” he whispered to himself before climbing out of the car to help Tony get her righted. 

***

Rhodey hadn’t been able to get that almost kiss out of his mind. At first he’d thought he’d imagined the moment, that his horniness had taken what was a normal, friendly moment between the two of them and twisted into something more. He didn’t think that was it though. There had been something in Tony’s eyes when he’d leaned toward him, something hopeful and yearning. And then there had been that look he had given him as they’d called it a night, looking, well, sad, like he’d missed an opportunity. 

Rhodey had been so convinced that any romantic feelings on his part were unrequited that he almost wasn’t sure what to do with the idea that they might not be. But he knew, no matter how many times he’d failed before, if there was even a sliver of a chance that Tony felt the same way, he had to at least try and confess his feelings. 

Of course, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t change the circumstances as much as possible. 

Rhodey waited until he knew with absolute certainty that Tony was out of town, settled solidly in Hong Kong for five days worth of meetings with no quick way back to California. Then he headed for the Malibu mansion, waiting for JARVIS to get through his cursory greetings.

“J? I need your help.” 

*

Tony shuffled in the front door, exhausted. It had been a long week of meetings, and things going wrong, and while he wasn’t generally much of a sleeper, all he could think about was crawling into bed and sleeping for the next three days. 

“Hey J,” he mumbled, dropping his briefcase right there inside the door. “‘S good to be home.”

“Welcome back, Sir,” JARVIS replied, his familiar voice soothing something in Tony. “Uh, Sir, if I could direct you to the workshop, your assistance is required.”

Tony couldn’t help his groan. “Come on, J. I left you in charge. Can’t you handle it?”

“Sir, it’s absolutely imperative,” JARVIS told him. There was an almost imperceptible pause before he continued. “DUM-E is a hazard to himself.” 

Cursing under his breath, Tony headed for the stairs, stomping his way down to the ‘shop and then glowering when the lights stayed dark. “JARVIS? What the fuck? Are you malfunctioning or something?” 

Then the lights came on all at once, and Tony found himself blinking at the sight in front of him, wondering if he’d fallen asleep on the flight home and was, in fact, dreaming. “The fuck?” he whispered, a slow smile crawling over his face. 

Rhodey was standing on the far side of the room, lined up beside Dum-E and U, all three of them holding signs. Dum-E’s read ‘WILL YOU,’ U’s said, ‘GO OUT,’ and with a crooked smile, Rhodey was holding up his own sign reading, ‘WITH ME?’ 

Dum-E’s sign was upside down. 

Tony started laughing, couldn’t help himself. “You serious with this, Rhodes?” he asked, not even trying to hide how absolutely delighted he was. “This is some sappy shit, even for you.” 

Rhodey shrugged, unapologetic. “Tony, you have no idea how many times I’ve tried to say something to you, and it seemed like every time your kids got in the way. So I figured… Maybe it would be easier if I got them to literally spell it out.” 

Tony cleared his throat, feeling his throat go tight. “Only you, Rhodes,” he said, his voice rough. 

Rhodey huffed out a laugh, then shifted a little awkwardly, a tinge of nervousness creeping into his smile. “So?” he prompted. “Is that a yes?”

“Are you kidding?” Tony demanded. Without waiting another moment, he strode forward, hauled the sign out of Rhodey’s hands, and wrapped his arms around his neck. Meeting Rhodey’s eyes steadily, he didn’t bother hiding the way his own were tearing up slightly. “Definitely, one hundred percent, a million yeses, would you hurry up and kiss me already cause I’ve been waiting like fifteen years to find out what your mouth tastes like, and -- mmph!” 

Tony made a startled noise as Rhodey cut him off with a kiss. An instant later, he was moaning softly instead, curling his hands tighter over Rhodey’s back as he returned it, slow and soft and perfect. When they pulled back a few moments later, neither one of them could stop grinning at each other. 

“I um…” Rhodey hesitated a moment, twisting his face up like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to tell Tony this or not. “I asked the bots for permission to ask you out? They gave us their blessings, so we’re all good there.” 

Tony couldn’t help laughing, still giggling as he kissed Rhodey again, harder this time. “God, only you,” he muttered. “Nobody else would even think to do anything like that. I love you so much.” 

And probably it was too soon to be saying that, when they hadn’t even been on a single date, but if anything it felt overdue. And judging by the look on Rhodey’s face, he felt the same. 

“I love you too, Tones.”

***BONUS***

Rhodey resisted the urge to yelp as Tony pulled into the garage at a breakneck speed, parking the Audi haphazardly in its spot. “God, c’mere,” he mumbled, grabbing Rhodey by the tie and yanking him across the seat to kiss him, hot and heavy and wanting. “Fuck, you were so hot tonight. Love the way you look in a suit.” 

Fingers scrabbling at Tony’s chest, Rhodey let himself be manhandled, moaning into Tony’s mouth as they made out all hungry and desperate. He yanked at Tony’s shirt, hauling it out of his pants and getting it most of the way unbuttoned before he remembered himself and pulled back so he was breathing hard against his lips instead. 

“No, no wait,” he protested, head tilting automatically as Tony started to bite down his jaw. “Not here, come on. Last time we did this in the car, you bitched for a week straight about the stains on the upholstery.” 

Tony snickered against his neck, the sound turning to a hum as he slid the palm of his hand up Rhodey’s thigh. “I can’t help it if you look incredibly good in my car,” he insisted, pulling back to grin at Rhodey with dark eyes. “Come on, honey. I promise not to bitch you out this time.” He leaned forward to kiss him again, thumbing at Rhodey’s nipple through his dress shirt as he did. For a minute Rhodey almost gave in, distracted by how good Tony felt against his skin.

“No, come on,” he said, reaching his hand down Tony’s open shirt and scratching blunt nails over his abs. “I got plans for you. Wanna take you apart. Take my time, stretch you out on the bed and fucking ruin you.” 

Tony stared at him, and then, with a high-pitched wheezing noise, started nodding almost frantically. “Yes,” he said quickly. “Yes, please, let’s go.” 

The two of them tumbled out of the car, heading for the stairs, and only made it as far as the closest table before Rhodey had to haul Tony in for another kiss. He pressed him up hard against the metal, shoving a thigh between his legs and grinning against his lips when Tony practically melted against him. Tony’s long fingers grabbed at his shirt, pulling it up to get at the bare skin of his back before sliding them lower, moving beneath the waistband of Rhodey’s dress pants to grope at his ass. Rhodey thrust his hips up against him and then cupped Tony through his pants in retaliation, biting at his lips. 

“Fuck, Tones,” he mumbled. “Driving me crazy.” 

“Can’t help it,” Tony retorted, panting against his lips. “I want you so bad.” 

Rhodey was seriously considering delaying his bedroom plans -- they were both young, they could go again, probably -- unable to move more than a few inches away when all of a sudden there was a sudden shock of cold through his body. Gasping, it took him a second to process what was happening until he looked at Tony and found him just as shell shocked and just as soaking wet, water dripping into his open mouth. As one, they turned to stare at the guilty looking robot holding an empty bucket.

“Dum-E!”

@tonystarkbingo

[hookedontaronfics]

First Contact series - Part 8

Title: First Contact - Part 8 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Mild smut A/N: Vacationing with Taron in Dubrovnik feels like just a dream for Jess. But when Taron starts sharing real feelings, will Jess be able to reciprocate? This chapter contains adult themes, so turn back now if you’re not prepared to read it. You’ve been warned! Enjoy! x

Welcome to Dubrovnik, love.

It wasn’t just what Taron said that thrilled me, it was the way he said it too. When his voice dropped low, there was something incredibly sexy about it, and I wasn’t immune to the effect it had on people. I couldn’t help but squeal to myself a bit while Taron hugged me cutely from behind, very happy to be there with me. I don’t think I was ever going to get over that fact, that I was the reason for the smile on his face now.

As much as I wanted to admire both the view in front of me and the one behind me, my stomach growled rather loudly and I knew I needed to eat soon or I’d start feeling faint. Taron, of course, heard the noises and chuckled.

“Do we need to get you something to eat?” 

“I’m positively starving. All I’ve had so far today has been a protein bar, a handful of airline pretzels and coffee,” I said, thinking about it for a moment. “Yep, that’s it.”

“What, that’s hardly enough, love,” Taron said, looking concerned for a moment.

“Nerves have been bad, but I’m here now so I think I can eat!” I grinned. “What about you, aren’t you hungry too?” I asked, turning around in his arms and poking his stomach, which in all actuality was quite firm.

“I am always up for food, no question,” Taron smirked lightly.

“Somehow that surprises me!” I laughed, as we finally went back inside the suite. I poked about a bit more, checking out the incredibly luxurious bathroom as well. Oh, it definitely had a jacuzzi tub in it, and I had to keep my thoughts from straying somewhere they shouldn’t.

“My diet is absolute crap, much to my agent and everyone else’s disappointment,” Taron giggled. “And when I don’t have to be fit, I’m usually not.”

“Well I will take you any way you are,” I grinned, wrapping my arms around him and reaching up to steal a kiss or three. “So where are you taking me?” I grinned.

Taron had been scrolling through his phone, I presume to find an appetizing place to eat, and raised his eyebrow at me cutely. “I think we’ll go to Azure first. I had them once and the food was amazing,” he grinned.

“Anything, at this point, sounds amazing,” I laughed.

“This place is on the edge of the Old Town, so we can meander through that once we’re done eating. I think you’ll love it,” Taron said, cutely excited as we left our luggage behind in the room and went out to eat and explore.

The weather could not have been more perfect. It was a little warm, sure, but with the constant breeze off the coast it seemed bearable, and I enjoyed the feel of the sun on my skin. We ended up getting an Uber to drop us off at the Old City gates and walked the rest of the way in to the restaurant so I could gape in awe at the gorgeous place again.

“I can’t believe you spent weeks filming here, that must have felt so lucky. It’s incredible,” I said enthusiastically, swinging Taron’s hand in mine between us as we walked. We made it to the restaurant, a mix of Asian fusion and Mediterranean influences, and it was difficult to choose. I wanted to try so many things. We ended up sharing the wasabi salmon pouches and I ordered the meatballs in coconut curry sauce, but of course I had to steal bites of Taron’s swordfish in black curry sauce. It was all delicious, and we left the restaurant feeling absolutely stuffed.

We walked about the old town streets, poking in shops and stalls tucked into alleys, just enjoying being leisurely together until jet lag started to catch up to us both. “Ready to head back to the hotel and just relax?” Taron asked me sweetly, noticing my energy flagging.

“I think that’d be a good idea, much as I’d love to keep walking,” I smiled.

“We’ll feel so much more refreshed tomorrow, I’m sure. But being lazy right now sounds like a good plan,” he grinned. We returned to our hotel and cuddled up on the couch together, surfing through the English channels on the telly to find something to watch. I must have dozed off because the sun was low in the sky when I came to, nestled against Taron’s chest. He stirred slightly when he felt me sit up and cracked his eyes open. “Get some rest?” he asked me gently, and I nodded, yawning a bit and having a stretch.

“Hopefully you weren’t trapped for too long,” I smiled as he ruffled my hair cutely.

“I dozed myself,” he grinned. “But I am a bit hungry again,” he laughed, and I couldn’t help smiling over that. Eating and sleeping and not doing much else sounded like the perfect kind of vacation to me. We ended up walking just down the street to Magellan, sharing sweetbread and enjoying our pasta courses and some wine. Either I was a total lightweight, or Croatia’s wines were strong, because I was definitely feeling it by the time we paid our tab and left.

“We should go down to the water!” I suggested with a giggle, Taron putting his arm around my shoulders to keep me steady as I had been weaving a bit on the sidewalk.

“We can do that,” Taron replied with an amused grin. We went down to the pebble beach access from the hotel’s lift, greeted by the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore. The beach was already cast in shadows at that point but it helped ease the heat of the day and we walked along the shoreline in contented peace, passing a few other couples but no one bothering us at all. We truly are just like any other couple, I thought, giggling to myself. 

“This feels so perfect,” I said sweetly, leaning my head against Taron’s shoulder as we stood gazing out at the waves. “I can’t believe you brought me here, that I’m with you, that this feels so much better than I knew it could be to be with someone.”

“You ought to start believing it, Jess,” he said, tipping my chin up to look him in the eyes, before caressing my cheeks gently. “I find it hard to believe that no one ever tried to do these things for you. I just don’t find it difficult to treat a woman the way she deserves to be treated.”

“I think it’s hard to know what you deserve when you’ve been treated like an unwanted accident your entire life,” I replied, maybe more harshly than I had meant, but Taron didn’t seem phased by my tone. If anything, he looked heartbroken for me. “And when you grow up not knowing what you deserve, not knowing that love should be something inherent and not earned, you end up with wildly bad taste in men,” I rambled on.

“Well I’m here to show you what you deserve, Jess,” Taron said slowly. “All of this,” he replied, sweeping his arm outward, “and so much more. You deserve someone who truly sees you, who doesn’t judge you for your struggles, who knows how precious you are.” I teared up slightly at that, unable to control it because it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. He brushed the tears off my cheeks and hugged me to him tightly; I felt at once safe and comforted in his arms. “You need to heal, from everything you’ve been through that has torn you down. I promise to help in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Taron,” I sniffled slightly, trying not to full-on cry.

“You don’t need to thank me for doing what someone else should have done a long time ago. Knowing what I know now, I’m incredibly lucky that you let me in at all,” he said gently, pulling back to gaze at me again, brushing my wind-blown hair out of my face. I noticed that his eyes were a bit red and watery too. “You deserve to be loved for every fibre of your being, Jess. I intend to do that if you let me.”

I was left a bit speechless, unsure what to say, or how to say it, and I even had to look away from the intensity of his gaze, feeling stripped down to my soul by those pale green eyes of his. “I would give every last dime in the world if I could be with you. None of this means anything to me without you now, Jess,” he spoke, with a raw honesty that still shook me. They weren’t just pretty words you’d find in a romance novel; they were real and overwhelming and deeply felt coming from Taron.

He seemed to understand that I needed some time to mull over these words of his, and we stood there quietly by the sea as I did my best to comprehend how he felt about me and what it all meant moving forward. I think the hardest part for me was that we hadn’t been together all that long; I didn’t feel that I had earned this kind of devotion on his part. But I also knew he wasn’t telling me half-truths or spinning fictions, that there was nothing about Taron that wasn’t genuine. Even more so, we had yet to be really intimate and I was a bit perplexed that someone could want me for more than just the pleasures of the flesh. He had gotten to know more of me than any man had taken the time to do and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

We eventually returned to our room when we both got too cold, and completely knackered from the flights and emotions we ended up just getting ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom and then crawling into our separate beds. I’m not going to lie, it felt a bit odd to be more “roommates” than lovers in our sleeping arrangements, but to push things wouldn’t be wise for me. The last thing Taron needed was me freaking out unnecessarily because I hadn’t been that close to anyone since Kevin. Even thinking his name made my skin crawl, but then Taron cut into my thoughts with his adorable “sweet dreams, love,” before turning out his bedside light.

I laid awake for a bit, tossing and turning despite my exhaustion, long after I had heard Taron’s breathing slow and settle into sleep. I realized that even this much, being in the same room as him, my eyes tracing his sleeping form in the dark, was a new step for me. A step in the right direction, I reminded myself. I eventually let myself drift off to sleep, hoping for a fun day tomorrow.

****

The sun crawling slowly across the floor through the shades woke me in the morning. I squinted over at the clock and realized it was already 11 a.m. and Taron was still sound asleep. I couldn’t help but think he looked completely adorable in that vulnerable state, appreciating the sweetness of his sleeping expression. Sometimes the truest self could be viewed when someone was off in dreamland, escaping the pretense and performance of waking life. I left him to snooze a little longer as I shut myself in the bathroom, taking a good half-hour to shower and let the steam and luxurious soaps the hotel provided wake me up. I had to admit that I was feeling a lot more refreshed as I combed through my wet hair. A simple knock on the bathroom door startled me and I had to laugh at myself. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” I grinned as I pulled the door open, my eyes taking in Taron’s bedhead and sleepy grin.

“Morning love,” he smirked, stealing a kiss from me and apologizing for his morning breath. I hadn’t even noticed. “Ready for more adventures today?” he asked cutely, and I nodded happily at that.

“Of course! But breakfast first,” I grinned, making him just chuckle. 

“You know it,” he said with a wink. We got ourselves ready for the day, which didn’t require much. We both donned shorts and t-shirts and walking shoes, and I was excited for our plans to walk the city walls and see Dubrovnik from that high up. We enjoyed a quick bite at the hotel’s rather exquisite breakfast buffet before heading out, hand-in-hand, the sun already quite warm.

We ambled our way into town and eventually made our way to an access point for the city walls. After a little debate, we decided to join one of the guided tours, blending in quite well with a group of other tourists. We listened in on the history of the place, appreciating the views of the seas, the hidden narrow streets and groaning inwardly every time we had more stairs to climb. All in all, it was an enjoyable couple of hours, if a bit sweaty, and Taron seemed glad to get the chance to do it, as he’d had no time before when he was filming. We ended up just grabbing some cheeses, grissini and olives from a market stall to take back with us to our room, sitting on our balcony and snacking after having such a late breakfast, letting our poor legs rest.

With it being such a sunny and hot day, we decided the next best course of action would be to enjoy the beach fully before we got hungry for dinner. While Taron was changing into his swim trunks, I deliberated over which swimsuit I should wear, finally deciding to just go with the bright teal and aqua bikini. Of course I was nervous about my body in it as I took my turn and changed, but I also just wanted to enjoy the beach and the sun on my skin and who else was here to judge me? Certainly not Taron, judging by the look on his face when I emerged from the bathroom. Of course he’d already seen me in a swimsuit, but this one didn’t provide as much coverage, and even showed a little bit of my scar.

“You look amazing,” Taron managed, after picking his jaw up off the floor. Figuratively, of course.

“I could say the same about you,” I grinned, scoping out his bare biceps in the tanktop he had on over his swimmers. “But are we going to stand here staring at each other until the sun goes down or get out there?” I teased.

“You’ve got a point,” he just grinned, slinging our beach bag with our towels and sunscreen and room key over his shoulder. I had pulled on a loose muslin overshirt and we flip-flopped our way down to the beachfront, paying for the chair rentals since the beach was a bit rocky. We set our stuff out and when Taron pulled his tank off I stared, unashamedly so. This is my boyfriend, I reminded myself happily. He handed me the sunscreen bottle and turned around expectantly. Yes please, I thought to myself, spreading the lotion over his back carefully, making sure to cover every bit so he wouldn’t get burned, never getting over the feeling of my fingers gliding over his skin. He did the same for me and once we were lotioned up, we laid out on the chairs, letting the sun bake us.

When we both got too hot, we ran out into the water together, Taron splashing me while I shrieked and tried to get away. I eventually ended up dunking him in the water, making him laugh and sputter when he came back up for air. “You’ll pay for that!” he smirked, pulling me to him and kissing me hungrily as we bobbed in the water together up to our necks. I could feel his hands skimming over the skin of my waist under the water, and I shivered slightly. I returned those kisses in kind, even wrapping my legs around him so I wouldn’t drift away, the action making him groan slightly against my mouth. But we were in public, and even if no one was paying us any mind, the last thing we needed to do was give them a show, so we eventually broke apart, breathless and happy.

We eventually made it back to our lounge chairs, lazing about in the sun and perfectly content. I could not have possibly asked for a better vacation, and the truth was that I hadn’t even asked for this at all. The specialness of this gift was not lost on me, and Taron didn’t expect anything from me either. I was still thinking over his words from the night before, wondering just how deeply I could return the feelings. Of course I had fallen for him; I’m pretty sure I felt like I had long before I’d met him in the Tesco. But that was fan adoration, based on an image he projected in his interviews and video bits. And while it was pretty close to the person he actually was away from the cameras, I found him to be even more humble, low-key and genuinely caring in person. But love, well, that was a tricky thing. I thought I had loved someone once, and that man had broken me. Trusting someone enough to love again felt like standing at the edge of a crevasse, needing to make the jump to the other side but all I could do was stare down.

I hadn’t realized I was frowning in thought until Taron leaned over and placed his hand on mine. “Everything alright?” he asked, and I hurriedly rearranged my expression.

“Of course. Just thinking, probably about work,” I lied, and felt bad for that lie. But how to tell him how scared I was? I just felt at a loss.

“None of that here,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched me carefully. Feeling exposed, I finally suggested we go get dinner. The sun was heading toward the horizon anyway, and Taron didn’t argue. We changed and showered quickly, once again taking turns, and I donned a pretty dress and a light cardigan over it. Taron had chosen a rather fancy place for dinner, where we could sit outside and watch the stars twinkle into existence over our nightcaps. Our conversation flowed easily and I couldn’t help but be a bit mesmerized by the shadows drawn over his face by the flickering candlelight as the day sunk into early night.

We retired for the evening, getting ready for bed and cuddling on the couch as the telly droned on. Taron had drifted off and I had to shake him awake long enough to convince him to move to his bed, before crawling into my own and pulling the covers up around me, feeling a peculiar sense of loneliness seep through me that I couldn’t understand. I slid headlong into sleep, but my dreams were troubled and I guess I must have screamed out loud at some point because Taron woke me up out of the nightmare.

It took me a long, disorienting minute to remember where I even was, and I turned and hid my face against Taron as I sobbed slightly, images of Kevin still burned in my mind.

“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” Taron soothed, repeating it over and over and patting my hair and running his hands gently over my arms, holding me and rocking me gently and giving me the space I needed to calm down. I was still shaking after I’d cried myself out, and he seemed reluctant to let me go. “Do you need to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure that will help me any,” I said, my lips trembling.

“Please tell me what I can do to help,” he pleaded with me in the dark.

“Just stay,” I whispered, desperately not wanting to be alone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, his strong arms enveloping me as he placed a couple of kisses protectively on my forehead. Once I’d calmed down enough to sleep again, he rearranged our positions so he could cuddle me better and we could both sleep, and I felt much better now that we were both in the same bed, but hardly able to hold the significance of that in my mind. All I knew was that Taron made me feel safe from my demons, even if they only existed in my head. Exhausted and emotionally spent, I finally dropped off to sleep, my face buried in his comforting chest, lulled by the sound of his beating heart.

****

The next few days of vacation flew by, as they were wont to do. We explored more of the city, ate plenty more delicious food, and spent hours lounging by the pool or the sea. We’d taken in the views from the top of Srd, biked around Mljet National Park and escaped the midday heat in Dubrovnik’s museums. My favorite thing we did by far had been drinking cocktails and watching the sun set over the water at the ever-popular Buza Bar.

We also spent a lot of time in each other’s arms, kissing and touching and exploring each other’s bodies, but still I hesitated to give myself completely over to him, and he never asked for more than I was willing to give. 

On our second to last evening, I was talking to Taron about something, I don’t even remember what now, but I was clearly distracted as I was trying to pull a sweater out of my suitcase. A chill had crept into the air and we were going to take a moonlit walk on the beach together. My sweater had snagged on something and I yanked it rather hard, hoping that would free it, and out toppled the expensive lingerie Jules had bought for me - and that I had completely forgotten about. The lacy fabric pooled at my feet on the floor as Taron’s eyes went wide.

“What’s this, love?” he smirked, picking up the sheer teddy and holding it out for me.

“Oh god,” I said, my face flushing a deep red as I snatched it out of his hands. “N-nothing,” I stammered.

“Forget about the sweater. I want to see you in this,” he said, his eyes growing a bit dark and my heart nearly racing out of my chest. Damn it all to hell, Jules, I thought. “Please, love?” Taron asked, taking my hands in his and kissing my knuckles, staring up at me through his lashes. That look always undid my resolve a little, and he knew it too.

“Oh what the hell,” I huffed, grabbing the teddy and its matching panties and stalking off to the bathroom, not sure what I was even doing other than getting it over with. I had kept him wanting long enough, hadn’t I? I thought as I dropped my clothes to the floor and let the slinky material slide over my skin. Once I was fully dressed in it, I dared to peek at myself in the mirror; the lingerie left very little to the imagination. I’d already been shirtless in front of him, but this felt like something more. Still, the way the lace ended just under my butt cheeks seemed to accentuate their curves, and the built-in cups gave me cleavage I didn’t usually have. I let my hair out of its elastic confinement and let my waves fall down to my shoulders and took a deep breath, resolving my courage.

I opened the door and Taron’s back was to me as he stared out the glass balcony doors, but he turned around when I took a few steps into the room and audibly gasped. The way the moonlight slanted across his face sent shivers running down my spine as we stared across the space of the room at each other. Then, Taron was crossing the floor and pulling me into his arms, kissing me in a way he hadn’t before, heated and needy. And I did my best to open myself to that mutual want as his kisses traveled along my jawline, down my neck, across my shoulder blades.

Of course I wanted him; I didn’t live in a bubble separate from my own desires. I just needed to push beyond my fears. Almost as if reading my mind, Taron spoke up. “Please tell me to stop if you need me to. I respect you, I don’t want to push you anywhere you don’t want to be. But I need you,” he fairly whispered, his voice cracking a bit on that last sentence, and something about the way he said it broke through whatever was holding me back. 

Because it was more than just lust that drove us to the bed, although there was plenty of that as I hurriedly pulled his shirt off and unbuckled his belt, tossing both aside. There was a deeper sense of intimacy blossoming between us as we pushed his pants off him and he settled his weight over me, pressing me down into the bed, his fingers and lips trailing over my heated skin.

“This okay?” he murmured, his lips brushing over my stomach as I felt my core begin to throb in need. I hadn’t felt this turned on in so long, it almost truly made me want to cry. I was being awakened to feelings I long thought were dead, things I thought no one could ever make me feel again.

“Better than okay,” I moaned softly, remembering to breathe again as Taron rooted in the bedside drawer for a condom he must have stashed there in hopes. “I need you too,” I gasped softly as he hooked his fingers in the sides of my panties and slid them down my legs, exposing all of me to him.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes aware from me, leaning over and capturing my lips with his kisses again even as he worked his own boxers off. I heard the crackle of the condom wrapper and then he was there, between my legs, his erection pressing tantalizingly against my inner thigh as he nipped at my lower lip slightly.

“Ready for me?” he asked as I got sort of lost in the depth of his lustful gaze. I nodded, letting him nudge my legs open just a little bit more with his knees as he lined his hips up with mine. I closed my eyes and ran my hands through his hair, trying to ground myself as I felt him slowly, gently enter me. The groan that rumbled through his body did more to erase my worries than anything else to that point. Seeing his careful reserve unravel at the feeling as he joined our bodies together unhinged me from my fears. I didn’t feel used, or dirty, or discarded; this was raw and real and powerful, and I was very much a part of what was happening here. This was what sex was meant to be all along.

He gazed at me so adoringly it made my heart ache with the weight of it. He let out his breath, tickling my face and making me giggle slightly as he waited for me to adjust to him; it had, admittedly, been years.

“Okay,” I whispered softly when I couldn’t take his stillness any longer. He obliged by drawing out and pushing his way back in agonizingly slowly, amplifying the pleasure that shot straight through me. I cried out, shocking myself even, the sparks running through me as he picked up his pace, our groans mingling together in the otherwise quiet of the room. I’m pretty sure I left red marks in his skin where I dug my fingertips into his shoulders, gripping him tightly as I lifted my own hips to meet his, finding a rhythm with him that had us both spiraling fast toward a climax.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned out, coming around him hard, my orgasm slamming into me and taking my breath away completely. I’m pretty sure I left the earth for a few minutes, because when I came aware again Taron was already collapsed on top of me, panting and sweaty and spent. It struck me suddenly that I had never actually orgasmed before, and I realized all my years of feeling ashamed over that fact were for nothing. I’d gotten close a couple of times with other boyfriends, or my own hand, but never tipped the edge and only been left with frustration. I’d simply never found someone invested in my own pleasure the way Taron was.

“Good for you?” he asked against my skin, leaving tiny kisses on my chest as we both tried to calm down again.

“You’ve just changed everything, Taron,” I replied softly.

“Yeah?” he said, with a boyishly handsome grin. I trailed my fingers through the sweaty hair on his chest, amazed to be with him this way.

“I can’t put it into words exactly, but I know and feel things now that I couldn’t have understood before,” I tried to explain. “You’re right, I do need to heal, and being with you like this has already helped me overcome so much I was frightened of or ashamed of before. I’ve been afraid of moving forward, afraid of taking risks, afraid of falling for someone again. But here I am, falling for you,” I rambled a bit, feeling emboldened to actually be vulnerable in front of him for once.

“I’m so grateful for that, you know,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face gently. “I know how hard it is to trust again after it’s been dashed. But I won’t ever let you hit the ground. I want you to fall so hard it’s endless, because I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, even brushing his lips over my eyelids when I closed them, before finally kissing me fully on the lips, making me tremble with the full intimacy of the moment. I couldn’t possibly have known in the Tesco, or in the karaoke bar, or at our table read, that all of these moments would have built to this. But somehow it had, and I was blown away by how much Taron had come to mean to me. He supported me, cared about me, protected me and maybe even could love me.

“Stay right here, I’ll be back,” he said, making me whimper when he finally pulled out of me. He discarded the condom and went to grab a washcloth and cleaned us both up, something no one else had ever taken the time to do. We really hadn’t messed the sheets up so we didn’t have to change those, but I had to pee really badly so I finally excused myself to the bathroom to do that, making Taron chuckle slightly. I also brushed my teeth quickly and swallowed my birth control pill; I was on the pill because my periods sucked but now I had extra reason to not forget it. I returned to the room, pulling on more comfortable pajamas and noticing Taron had put his boxers back on as he was lounging on the bed, just waiting for me to come back to him, and I was happy to do so.

We laid down face-to-face on the pillows, our foreheads touching and just sweetly gazing at each other, not needing words any longer. My body felt completely sated, my mind finally at peace. When I drifted off to sleep I couldn’t have been happier, knowing I was truly, deeply cared for.

Vacationing in Dubrovnik with Taron was a dream, but will reality catch up to Jess? Find out in Part 9!

[today-we-will-survive]

Group Project pt. 2

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6K

Requested: kind of by @a-romantic16 😂

It’s really hard to keep a straight face when you—along with forty other students—are watching yourself, blown up twenty sizes and attempting/failing to act. You really didn’t think you were doing that bad of a job the day you were filming, though maybe you were doing a lot better before Taehyung had the brilliant idea to add one(1) frikin adorable camera operator into the mix. Now you watch in horror as you deliver your lines with a trembling voice, your eyes wide with nerves. What a disaster.

“I can’t take this anymore,” your voice echoes through the amphitheater-style room. Why did your professor have to borrow this room when your normal, much smaller, much less theater-like room would have sufficed?

“No, please, Janet, don’t leave me,” Jungkook says dramatically and grabs a hold of your wrist when you stiffly turn away from him. “Please give me a chance to explain.”

The you on the screen shakes her head and looks back briefly. “I’m done listening to you talk, Vincent. I’m tired of hearing your voice.”

“Then I won’t try to convince you with my words,” Jungkook says just before tugging hard, causing you to stumble into him with a squeal—which definitely wasn’t scripted—your hand landing on his chest. “Let me try something else.”

Oh God. You cover your eyes with your hands, letting out a groan that’s luckily drowned out by the dramatic music that swells when you and Jungkook kiss on screen. With a slight shift of one finger, you peak out from behind your hands only to have your eyes assaulted by the most awkward, cringe-worthy five seconds of your extremely short acting career. So short, in fact, that this kiss feels like it’s taken up the majority of it. Why did Taehyung feel the need to put a scene in like this? Why did he cast you—someone with absolutely no acting experience whatsoever—for this project that was supposed to be focusing on lighting? LIGHTING!!!! THAT’S IT!!! He could have made a music video! Or a time-lapse of his frikin cat! Why did he feel the need to try and get dramatic? But most importantly, whyyyyyyyyy did you agree to do it? At least when you did agree, it was supposed to just be you. It was supposed to be a simple monologue, but of course, he had to throw that out the window—along with your last bit of dignity—and bring Jungkook in.

Your face heats up anew when the music fades and the credits roll noiselessly up the projector screen. The silence in the room is too thick making the sound of your heart pounding in your ears that much louder. Surely, everyone else can hear it.

When at last the screen blackens completely, a smattering of applause fills the darkness and then the lights come back on. A quick, pleading, glance at your watch tells you that class actually ended two minutes ago and, well, you need to find a hole to go crawl and die in so before anyone has a chance to say a word, you grab your bag off the chair beside you and dart out the door, glad that you decided to sit so close to the back.

The halls aren’t all that crowded, this being a building with only a few classes that get out at this time, and for that, you’re grateful.

This seems like a good enough place to die of embarrassment, you think when you turn the corner and find yourself in a deserted hallway. With a sigh, you sink down against the wall, letting your bag drop beside you and put your forehead on your knees.

Calm down, Y/N. Maybe it wasn’t actually as bad as you think it was. After all, people did applaud at the end. Though maybe they were just applauding because the torture of having to sit through it was finally over.

“Oh no,” you utter again as you relive the absolute mortification of having to kiss this boy that you’ve had a crush on since the beginning of the semester—repeatedly, you might add, before Taehyung was finally satisfied with the scene—then having to sit there while your peers watched.

“Y/N?”

Your head lifts so fast, the back of it hits the wall and you wince at the sudden pain. When you peel your eyelids open, you immediately want to close them again because standing in front of you is the exact last person you want to see right now.

“Jungkook,” you crack. “Hi.”

“I blinked and you were gone. Are you alright?” he asks, his forehead creasing with concern.

You make your way clumsily to your feet and brush the back of your jeans off. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Never better.”

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Alright,” you say with a heavy sigh. “I’m completely mortified.”

“I don’t think it was terrible,” he shrugs. “I mean, not the worst film I’ve ever seen.”

“Why, because you were in it?” you ask.

“No,” he utters and digs his hands into his pockets. “Maybe because you were.”

Oof what? You’re so caught off guard by that response that you can only stare dumbly at him as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it could have been worse,” he continues. “At least Taehyung didn’t cast himself in that role.”

“I bet he would have done a better job than I did,” you reply shifting from one foot to the other.

“Yeah but I’d rather kiss you than him any day.”

Again, what? Your heart falters and somehow you manage to trip even though you’re standing still. “Really?” you ask.

Jungkook’s mouth lifts into a grin and when his lips part, you catch a glimpse of those adorable bunny teeth and somehow your heart begins to beat even faster. He nods shyly and you see his cheeks tinge pinkish.

“Actually,” he says. “I’m glad I was able to find you. You ran out of the room so fast, I thought I’d have to wait till Monday.”

“Wait for what?”

Jungkook steps a bit closer, his head tilting downward so he’s looking at his shifting feet. “Well, it feels kind of weird that we’ve kissed so many times—”

“Ugh, so many times,” you groan pressing your hand over your one eye.

“I thought, maybe, I should ask you on a proper date. You know, maybe that way you wouldn’t feel like you’re having war flashbacks every time you see me.”

Your other hand comes up to cover your other eye and you groan again. “Please, God, let me die,” you say and Jungkook laughs.

“Was I really that bad?” he asks you.

You slide your palms down your face and look at him. His mouth is quirked upward but his own eyes are turned down a bit. Almost disappointed.

“No, no,” you say quickly. “It wasn’t you, Jungkook. I promise. It was the whole…situation. Reading cringey lines, trying to act in front of a camera, calling you Vincent, was not the way I imagined my first kiss with you would be.”

Now the smile reaches his eyes. “You’ve imagined our first kiss?” he asks.

You feel the color drain from your face at the realization of what you just confessed. “Oh no,” you whisper. “No no no no no.” You turn away and start walking slowly down the hall, leaving him staring after you as you continue muttering to yourself.

“No, please, Janet, don’t leave me!” Jungkook calls.

You stop and turn around again to face him, your hands still pressed to your burning cheeks. “You did not,” you say.

“I figured it would get you to stop,” he says and starts walking toward you. “I have an idea.”

At this point you’re basically floating above yourself watching this whole terrible scene unfold. “What?”

He steps even closer. “How about we redo it.”

“Redo it?”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip, glancing down at your own mouth before meeting your eyes again. “Our first kiss.”

“Our first kiss?”

“Is there an echo in here?”

You release your face at last with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now,” you say. “I just feel like this whole day has been surreal.”

“Can I help make it a bit better?” Jungkook asks stepping closer still. There’s only about a foot between the two of you now and for some reason, you’re having a hard time figuring out what brought the two of you to this moment.  

He brings a hand up and traces the shell of your ear with a fingertip before settling his palm against your cheek. “Is this okay?” Jungkook asks, his breath fanning across your skin.

His hand is warm on your face and for a second that’s all you can focus on. That and how close his lips are to yours. You look up to meet his own gaze, his dark lashes framing those eyes that are too sparkly to be just reflecting the fluorescents in the hall, irises so dark they look like literal miniature galaxies. You’d get lost in them if not for how close his mouth is to your own. It takes a second longer for your soul to return to your body and you carefully reach up, gripping his shirt at his sides with trembling fingers before at last giving a small nod.

Jungkook’s own breath hitches and you watch the tip of his tongue swipe across his bottom lip before he closes the space between you.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Peacock Prince pt 4

Genre: fantasy, fairy tale, mlm

Words: 6.4k

Summary: A young man who is banished to a vast garden to spend the rest of his days, cursed to grow peacock feathers from his skin and walk the grounds.

A wandering soldier is charged by the neighboring town to fetch three feathers: one for health, two for luck, and three for wealth. Unfortunately, plucking the feathers off a reluctant peacock-boy is not as easy as it sounds.

A love story of avian dimensions in 4 parts

PART 1 ~ PART 2 ~ PART 3~ PART 4

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter

Part 4

Warning for graphic injury near the end

Daven is standing in a field of swirling white. Thick fog flows like water around his feet, curling and uncurling lazily in endless circles, a veil of thin mist surrounds him like a chalky wall. Water drips with a soft ‘plink, plink, plink’ somewhere in the distance and the din of shallow whispers crawls across his skin.

He turns around in small slow circles, looking for something he can’t name, he sees white in endless rolling sheets around him. Daven shivers and looks away, averting his eyes from something he can’t name.

He tugs at his sleeves, loose white pajamas hang off his body like soft fluttering scraps and his head is heavy with cotton and a dull haziness.

He looks up toward the endless white above him, “Hello…?” His voice mixes with the sound of distant indistinct whispers and he has a feeling he’s not alone here.

He takes several steps forward, his arm hairs are standing on end and the air is clinging to him like a clammy second skin. His feet are swallowed by the mass of twirling fog with each step, he holds his breath.

Whispers swirl around him like a tangible force that can be touched and felt, wordless and almost musical- like church hymns from a neighbors house. He keeps his head down and eyes scanning the obscured ground.

He doesn’t know how long he walks, maybe a minute, maybe ten minutes, but the whispers stop just as suddenly as they started.

A silence breaks and Daven looks back up, a figure is sitting directly in front of him- appearing like it had always been there. It’s sitting perfectly still, head bent down and shoulders hunched. It’s wearing a dark grey cloak that stands out starkly against the ivory white around them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the voice carries, strained and rumbling- reverberating through Daven’s chest like an intrusive tremor.

Daven recognizes that voice, “Ellis,” he says slowly, “Ellis. Where… why are we…?” His words are muffled and swallowed by the fog. The figure shifts in place.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Ellis looks sharply over his shoulder, green eyes burning, he pins Daven with a look that could puncture tanning hide. Daven realizes passively that Ellis’s feathers are gone, his back empty of the lengthy plumage and all so human. He looks small.

“Where is here?” Daven retorts, trying to make heads or tails of this. There really is no escaping the other boy.

“Nowhere,” he says simply and Ellis looks him up and down, holding his gaze for a long minute. “What is it that you want Daven?” It has an almost miserable question, quiet and stern.

Daven straightens up and blinks a few times, he feels almost naked again under the backdrop. “What do you mean?” He asks slowly.

“What do you want.” He says again, “Or do you even know?”

“No, I dunno.” He answers truthfully, “Survival?”

Ellis scoffs, “living in a cage is no way to survive.” He hunches over further, “Or live at all.” The statement is so bitter and bright, so Ellis-like, that Daven is suddenly questioning if this is a dream after all.

“I’m not in cage,” he says simply, though he doesn’t know why.

A heavy sigh responds and Ellis turns, though he somehow doesn’t remember him facing away in the first place. “I know.” Ellis says solemnly.

Daven cocks his head to the side, “... What do you want Ellis?” He asks slowly in reprisal. The other boy blows air out of his nose, “I wonder… Of all people.” He was murmuring to himself, “He gave you the way into the gardens.” Daven raises his eyebrows, “Who?” Ellis takes a deep breath, his back still turned to him. “I suppose I never will understand him.” “Do you always have to speak in riddles?” Daven takes a step forward.

“The Hunter,” Ellis says evenly, “Who else?” Daven’s eyebrows raise, the fog swirls faster around his ankles. “Wait, was he… in on all this?” His brow folds into a scowl, “what’s all that supposed to mean? Tell me something real.” A soft tasteless breeze brushes through Daven’s hair. The boy turns and suddenly he is inches away from Daven, almost touching him as he whispers in his ear. “You tell me. Why didn’t you take the feather Daven?” Daven stiffens, Ellis smells like rainwater and frost-laden air, Daven takes a deep breath, “Why should I?” He asks softly, “You saved my life.”

He glances down to see Ellis’s mouth twitch, “Saved you...” He trails off, “Is that all it takes for people to leave me alone?” Daven takes a step forward and he can almost feel the warmth of another body there, “I don’t think you actually want that.” Ellis snorts, Daven blinks and Ellis is standing somewhere distant in the mist now, just a dark cloak in the shifting veil. “There you go again.” He says slowly, “Stating things as if you know me.” A rough laugh follows, “You don’t know me.”

Daven purses his lips, “I could, you know. Someone could.” He turns in circles to spot Ellis again, he is just a shadow in the whiteness right then. “Like how you got cursed.”

Ellis’s body is gone, but the whispering is back, “It’s exactly what you think.” The voice seems to come from all around him.

Daven reaches out instinctively and his fingers meet something soft and pliant, he fists his hand into a fabric and pulls. Ellis is dragged from the mist by his shirt collar, Daven holds him in place as if he might vanish again, they blink at one another.

Daven cracks a smile, “Is this all real?” Ellis shrugs, “If you want it to be.” Daven sighs heavily, “There you go again,” he sighs, “With the riddles.” Ellis gives a small smile back, “How else would I keep the boys interested?”

“What?” Daven pauses, still holding onto his shirt. “What?”

Ellis chuckles and looks off somewhere behind Daven’s right shoulder, “Just another riddle for you to solve.” He gets up on his tiptoes, Daven can feel his hot breath against his ear, “Not that you’re ever coming back.” Daven looks down toward his feet, “I can’t.” “I know,” It’s a dark reply, the kind that hangs in the air for a very long time.

Daven lets go and holds either side of Ellis’s arms, almost kindred to a hug as he leans over him. “Thank you,” He sighs, “just… thanks.” “You’re leaving,” Ellis’s eyes dart up, they are round and full for once, curious almost, like rolling green hills momentarily caught in the sunlight.

Daven holds his gaze, “I mean, I’ll try.” He gives a strained smile, “Mary Lee might not make it easy.”

“... Will you be alright?” It was such a strange question from the boy, barely audible or even discernable.

Daven’s face folds down, his hands trail down the other boys arms, “Will you?” A long moment pauses, his heart thumps painfully in his chest.

Ellis disappears, a crackling laugh fills the air and courses through him like an electric current. The fog underfoot streams faster, like a trickling river gathering into a flood. It snakes around his ankles and a voice comes from all around. “Wake up Daven.” It says coldly, “You don’t want my secrets.” A pair of hands press into his chest, the feeling of a firm shove, thick warmth spreads out from some unseen fingertips, pressing into him, burying into his flesh. “You should have never been let in in the first place.” “Wait,” his voice is muffled, the hairs on his arm are all standing on end. “Just answer me Ellis, answer me something at least.” The laugh rings through his bones,the warm touch spreads through his body. “You don’t want this,” a soft voice answers. “Not now.” He almost chokes as something wraps around his body, encompassing him, the warmth pushing into every nerve and tingling limb. His soft white pajamas are gone and his vision is overwhelmed by nothingness, something tears through his thoughts and insides.

His breath comes in short rapid bursts, his temperature rises like a lit furnace and his heart pounds in his ears.

“Ellis,” He calls, but his voice is swallowed whole and the warmth tightens around him like a hand extinguishing a flame. “Ellis!” The feeling splinters deep inside him.

Daven wakes with a start, sweat drenching his entire body and eyes flying open. His heart is still pounding and mind reeling. He touches each arm and his face to make sure it’s still there, he runs a hand through his hair, “What the hell was that.” He gasps and feels at his damp forehead and clammy palms, that isn’t how he planned to spend his night here. He flops down in bed and takes deep breaths until his heartbeat slows and he can try and forget the peacock prince one more time.

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

Why does everything cost money? That is the great and unhappy question Daven was wrangling with at the moment.

Why does everything cost money and why am I not in possession of more? It was a two part existential query.

Daven is lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and frowning. His unnerving dream had startled him awake well before sunrise and now he is contemplating the screaming of birds outside.

The inn walls are particularly stuffy and claustrophobic at that moment, all straight wooden planks and plain floors. The town of Gregory was around a twenty minute walk from the town of Fiora- the place that send him out into the gardens to begin with.

It was a quiet run-down place that looked almost precisely like every other village you would pass, a type of village that would kick him out soon when his money ran out.

And now left him with one final mission: return to Fiora, retrieve what’s left of his belongings and flee. Run to the ocean and join whatever ship that would take him, never return.

Never return.

He takes a deep breath, now he just had to do it- and not get thrown in a military jail cell to top it all off. He closes his eyes for a long moment, clenching his fists by his side, he sees a face: angular and indifferent, green-eyed and guarded.

Daven’s eyes fly back open, he jerks upright and swings his legs out of the bed. “Time to get this over with.”

He secures his broadsword to his hip and gathers his boots and what’s left of the money he happened to bring. Just five sickles remained after two nights in the inn.

The night clerk gives him a blurry nod as he pays for the last night and slips out the front door. He has two sickles left.

He doesn’t look back as he makes his way toward the King’s Road and the next town.

Bird songs fill the air and stillness overlays his bones like stiff concrete, the morning sun barely peeks over the horizon and it’s light streams through the rustling green leaves. The King’s Road in this part of the kingdom is considered on of the most dangerous parts of the region.

Prone to bandits and robbers, it’s cracked and filled with uneven holes in many parts, it’s truly the forgotten fiefdom without a nobel. Daven keeps his eyes sharp and fingers at the ready, but all is quiet that morning.

He slips soundlessly through the next twenty minutes, trying to keep his hood up, eyes down, thoughts busy. A voice snakes in between his ears.

You failed them, that’s all he can think of when he sees the first buildings of Fiora. He pinches himself and creeps toward the nearest tree cover. You failed them.

He shakes the thought loose again.

“In and out,” he whispers and takes deep breaths, “Mary Lee won’t even be awake at this hour. Just in and out.” He stands at the edge of town for another long moment, unmoving.

You have a sword, don’t be a baby, he hears Ellis’s voice, mocking him in his own headspace. Daven looks down at his shoes, you wouldn’t understand. He argue with a ghost, I ran away again. I… failed them.

They’ll get over it.

Shut up.

They probably already have.

Shut up!

The voice goes quiet, he forces himself forward, padding softly down the first dusty empty street, the houses are all plain wooden boxes with painted front doors and square windows. He remembered thinking it was friendly when he first staggered in, thirsty and almost delirious, that had been weeks ago.

They had fed him, gave him new clothes, and a place to stay. They hadn’t even said anything when they must have realized he wasn’t just ‘vacationing’ from the military.

Well, they hadn’t said anything until mentioning they needed a feather from the garden. That felt like lifetimes ago.

He crouches low on the dirt roads, empty except for a sleeping stray dog and the smell of early morning bread baking far-off. Daven wanders into the heart of the village. Being upgraded to better accommodations had seemed ideal earlier, but Daven is now acutely aware that he is smack dab in the middle of Fiora. It was no longer ideal.

Old Mrs. Shawley’s house is a single brown house with a white trim. It is squat with two levels, faded wood and a brass knocker that might have once been shiny, he remembered thinking how it looked lived-in, a real home.

He doesn’t hesitate now, Daven goes around the back and eyes the second story window. All that is left to do is break in.

The alley is quiet as he shoves a spare barrel against the house, the window is cracked open as he climbs up and wedges his fingers under the shudders. He grunts as he pulls himself up and elbows his way into the second story window.

He topples into a long room with a soft thump and rights himself quickly, he’s luck Mrs. Shawley is hard of hearing. He surveys the area, it’s a narrow space with a single bed covered in a fluffy grey comforter and several pillows stacked high. There was a round threadbear throw-rug on the floor, one heavy dark chest up against the bed and a water basin by the door.

He exhales, it was just like he left it. “Finally, some luck,” he says softly and dusts himself off, a sense of hope welling in his chest.

Maybe they thought he was still on his quest, still their hero lost in the gardens- still fighting for them. Maybe they hadn’t guessed he had spent the last two days hunkered down in the town of Gregory hiding out in an inn with his last few coins.

Maybe.

Daven makes a beeline toward to the heavy chest at the end of the bed and kneels down to twist the lock numbers into place: 1137. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the lock clicks and he wrenches the thing open.

Daven looks down at a pair of pants, two shirts, and some extra shoes, he quickly takes them all and shoves them into his pack. His heart drops as he feels around for a heavy sack at the bottom of the chest, the gold he had stored from the donations of the town. He pales as he hands grasp at nothing but cloth and a wooden bottom.

“No, no, no,” he starts to curse, “Fuck.” He leans back on his heels and growls, threading his fingers through his hair and grinding his teeth, “Fuck!” He thrusts his hand back into the trunk and does another quick search.

“Are you looking for this young soldier?”

Daven practically topples over from the sound of another voice, he swings around to see a figure silently standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a pale pink nightgown, beige slippers, and her hair is done up in twin tight braids.

Her expression is cool and unreadable, she’s holding a heavy sack of gold in one hand.

“Mary Lee,” he breaths, eyes going wide and every muscle stiffening- preparing for fight or flight.

“You seemed to have left it here.” She jingles the bag of gold in hand. “A shame really. We gave you quiet a lot… didn’t we?” Her eyes are slits and her careful slouch against the doorframe is somehow threatening.

Daven reaches for the end of his broadsword, “I can explain.” That’s also how he started most of his conversations with his mother when he was in trouble.

Her eyes are hard shards of ice, “Oh?” Daven frowns, his hand closing around the hilt of his sword, “It’s wrong.” He says slowly, “I couldn’t finish the last task.” “Obviously,” she elegantly rolls her eyes.

“But I already got you the other three!” He says in a high-pitched garble, “that has to be enough, I did all I could. You can’t, you can’t-” “Calm down.” “You can’t tell them!” He draws himself up, “They’ll execute me.” “I said relax.” Mary Lee’s expression becomes wholly frigid, “I figured you might fail in the last mission anyway. Most do.” Daven wrinkles his brow, “You thought…?” She shrugs loosely, “You were promising in some ways. But what is a little village without a few backup plans?” Her mouth turns up in a mirthless smile, “Dead. That’s what.” Daven purses his lips, “Mary Lee…” She fixed him with a steady look, her voice light and almost sing-song, “Did you want us dead Daven?” “No!”

She takes a few steps forward, “Could have fooled me.” She blows hot air out of her nose, “You’re lucky it’s a bigger world than fools and little boys.” He lifts his chin up, “What does that mean?” She sighs loudly, “We’re keeping the gold.” She says simply, “As payment for running out on us.” Daven’s heart sinks, “But you’re not going to tell the military on me?” He looks left and right, checking as if a cavalry knight would swing out of the walls to capture him.

“No,” she starts to turn, “I didn’t sleep on the damned couch of this place just to turn you in.” She steps away from the door. “The military isn’t our friend either.” “Could have fooled me,” He says retorts hotly. “You threatened me with them enough.” He shakes his head, “I can’t believe… thank God I didn’t get those last three, dammit.” She lifts her chin up, “We will have those last three feathers.”

Daven eyes her, “What are you planning Mary Lee?” “Nothing,” she says simply, “You can leave. Everything is all sorted.” Daven takes a weighted step toward her, mouth snarling down, “What did you do Mary Lee?”

She she looked him up and down, “It’s not your problem now. I was only checking to see if you’d return. You’re free from our contract.” He reaches for her, “Why aren’t you blackmailing to go get the last three? I’m not the only who can get into the gardens.” “Is that what you think?” She gives a contained smile, one that took every muscle and none of them were thoughtless. “Well,” she turns to leave, “don’t worry about it.” He grabs her arms to stop her from leaving, not enough to hurt, but enough to show he meant business. “Who did you send to the gardens?” She looks at his hands and then tilts her chin up and meets his eyes steadily. A queen without a crown.

“Let’s just say they promised more feathers than you could ever deliver,” she relaxes in his grip. “The Hunter won’t appear for them,” he says it and knows it to be true, “You hired a mission bound to fail.” “Daven,” Mary Lee says slowly, “you don’t remember? They said you told them.”

Daven’s eyes go wide, “Who?” “Nobodies. Highwaymen,” she cocks her head to the side, “They said you were friends actually, drinking buddies. That you told them the secrets of the gardens, told them to get revenge on that Peacock boy for you.” Daven’s blood runs cold, his heart dropping. He puts the puzzle together, “Thatch.” His tongue curls around the name, “Thatch and his men.” His breath catches in throat, thoughts reeling. I had been drinking, his memories float around his head, bright spots in a river of sludge.

I told them everything…? His heart plummets. Mary Lee takes a step away from him, his arms fall to his side- letting her go. “What have you done Mary Lee?” She sniffs, “What are you on about?” She scowls, baring her teeth, “I’m helping my people. I don’t expect you to understand.” Daven looks down at his shoes, then toward the stairs, “Keep the money,” he fumes slowly, “And try to live with your damn self after all this.” “I will,” she says simply, but Daven isn’t looking at her anymore, he’s running.

Running like there are dogs at his feet and bees at his back, he practically falls down the stairs and out the front door.

I told them, I told them, I told them.

Mary Lee hired the highwaymen to go into the gardens after Ellis, and he made it all possible. He’s sprinting out of the village at top speed.

I have to make at least one thing right. He tells himself, body finding its way over thick foliage and fallen branches. The journey is a blur of burning lungs and smeared vision, tall trees pass and the towering white walls of the garden come into focus.

He throws himself at the front gates, “Oh bloody mother, bloody mother. Show us the oysters legs and bring us heaven’s hellfire.” He screams it.

Daven barely jumps out of the way of the ax this time, it’s sharp point lodging itself into the ground and Daven streaking past it through the open gates. His heels dig in as a he speeds into the first courtyard and finds it still and empty. It appears as it always did, the only sound being his heavy breathing and pounding heart.

He turns around in quick circles, looking carefully at each path in front of him. He notes that the white panther is nowhere in sight. She does not appear to stare him down and bare her teeth, something is off.

He chooses a direction and runs, his feet slap against the hard ground and it takes all his concentration to avoid the snapping vines and floor traps this time.

“Ellis!” He cries, “Ellis, I’m here!”

Nothing. He takes another jerky turn.

“Thatch!” He tries instead, “Thatch, you shouldn’t do this.”

Daven takes several more twisting turns, throwing himself deeper and deeper into the maze of garden walls. Despair starts to lodge itself deep in his chest, maybe I’m already too late. Maybe I’ve already failed.

“Aaaaaah,” just as he is giving into a cold dread he hears a sharp blood curdling scream. It’s wordless and so loud it almost shocks him.

More wordless yelling follows, Daven turns toward the commotion and follows the sound. The twisting maze of white marble garden walls and vines opens up into a vast courtyard with a single massive fountain in the center. He was back in Seven-Cherubs-and-a-Deer courtyard, of course.

He turns around and looks at Ellis’s tree, but sees nothing, the shrill voice cries out from the other side of the area.

“He bit me,” a man howls and Daven spots a short man with a sword at his side, he’s holding his bleeding hand and fussing with it. “The little bastard bit me.” A familiar figure stands next to the bleeding man.

Daven’s eyes go wide and he strides in the direction of the fellows, “What are you two doing?” He bellows, he spots a massive stuffed sack on the other man’s back. “What the fuck have you done?” Thatch turns toward him in a mild leisurely manner, “Daven, my boy,” he grins, “And here I heard you had skipped town completely! Good to see you.”

Daven’s teeth gnashed and every instinct in him told him to skewer this man, “Where did you get those?” He points dangerously at the bag on Thatch’s shoulder. The ends of several feathers stuck out the top of the flap. “Where is Ellis?” His voice is low and much calmer than he felt.

“Who?” Thatch seems nonplussed, “If you mean the Princeling, it’s nothing to worry about now. Did you come back to take some of the glory?” He laughs, “I’m afraid all the actions over.” “Yeah,” the other man was bandaging his bleeding hand, “fucker got in a few licks but-” “Where. Is. He?” Daven’s sword is in his hand, though he doesn’t remember drawing it.

Thatch takes a step back from the end of Daven’s sword, “You youth are so all over the place.” He mutters flippantly.

“Where is he Thatch?” He screams and takes a step forward. “Does it matter? I made the world a better place and the rest of us dead rich.” He winks, “You did help us so I suppose we can give you a few, no need for swordplay.”

Made the world a better place, the words ring through his head. Something had happened. Daven’s eyes go wide, “Ah!”

He lunges at Thatch, aiming for his heart, but Thatch is quicker, he side-steps the point and hops a few paces backward. He is obviously agile and has enough experience under his belt.

Daven pivots on his heel, preparing to strike again, and then he sees it: a larger pool of blood trailing just around the corner. That couldn’t be from the man’s hand- there was too much.

His spirit leaves his body for a moment and he staggers in place, “What have you done…?” He struggles a moment between Thatch and the blood, weighed-down by a staggering flood of emotions. Following the blood wins out. Daven runs toward the trail, “Thatch,” he yells over his shoulder, “This isn’t over.” “I said you could have some,” Thatch calls after him, “And then thank me later. Though he’s a bit of a mess right now, not much fun for your revenge.” Daven blocks out his words, Ellis, Ellis, Ellis. He has to concentrate, even if his vision is filled with a burning red aimed at Thatch.

“Ellis!” He calls hoarsely, “God,” his voice croaks, “Please,” he says more softly as he slows down, “Ellis.” The trail goes up a narrow walled passage, the white of the walls reflecting the afternoon sun eating away at his neck.

The red is a bright stain across the ground, small dots and occasional pools leading toward a dead end. The blood dots it’s way to end of the hall and then stops, Daven purses his lips and looks in either direction, trying to figure out where in the world he could have gone.

“Don’t take another step,” a weak voice hails him.

Daven turns around in a single fluid motion and realizes a figure had snuck behind him. A wobbling, swaying figure with his face scrunched up in immense pain. He is somehow holding a silver dagger in his wet red hands, barely.

“Oh thank God,” he takes a step toward Ellis and then freezes.

Ellis’s shoulders are slick with drying blood, his face is as pale and hollow as the moon, and he’s holding himself at an awkward angle. Constant sickening red droplets trail down his pants legs and pool in his shoes and on the ground.

Daven drops his sword and reaches out for him, “They’ve hurt you.” “Don’t take a step further,” Ellis rasps, his eyes unfocused and stance buckling in on itself. “I’m… serious.” Daven lunges to catch him as the boy collapses in place, he holds him up as Ellis’s body gives folds into him. Daven holds him up by the underarms. And then he sees what they had done to his back.

Something delicately breaks within him, “Oh no.” Bloody, mauled flesh covers Ellis’s back in sliced ribbons, shredded and hacked all across the muscle and leaving his skin in raw strips, a warpath across his body. They had cut all his feathers off by force.

Daven can’t breath, he squeezes his eyes shut as water gathers, “I’m sorry,” tears stream down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t say it enough, it would never be enough.

“Hush,” Ellis whispers and adjusts himself, kneeling painfully to look Daven in the face, “This was always going to be my fate. Ever since the witch walked into my life.” Daven turns to him, trying to cradle his bruised face in his hands, “I should have never let them do this to you.” His head drops, “I should have never come.” Ellis shakes his head, “Are you going to make my death about you?” The boy manages a thin smile that ends in a wince and more tears spring from Daven’s eyes.

“I’m going to kill them.” He swears, a deep growl in his throat.

Ellis exhales, “Do you want to hear a story?” He asks weakly. “It’s a bit about murder.” Ellis closes his eyes, “I’m sorry too.” “What?” Daven cradles him closer, being careful not to brush against his battered flesh.

Ellis rests his head against Daven’s chest, “She had a son too you know.” He exhales as if burdened by a stone on his chest. “The forest witch. She had a son.” Daven curls his body around him, “Wait, Ellis, I should… We should. Do something.” “Just listen,” Ellis snaps, but with not much heat in it. “His name was Sullivan and he was very dark and handsome, funny. Bad at art, good with his hands. And I made this whole mess Daven. I made it with my own two hands.” Daven frowns deeply, “Ellis…” It’s almost a warning.

“He was handsome and good, and I couldn’t stop myself. It was never Sullivan’s fault.” Ellis looks down and off to the side, “I fully knew my father was losing it. And I knew very l well how he felt about me.” Daven’s hands curl around him, “Please,” he almost begs, “wait, you can tell me all your secrets later,” he moves to stand up. “I promise I’ll swoon for them, be absolutely blown away. But… we have to get you somewhere.” He pleads. Ellis sags, “There’s nowhere to go.” “I can,” Daven holds him closer, “I can try.” Ellis sighs and meets Daven’s eyes, “This garden was grown from the witch’s grief. After my father executed her son for sleeping with the crown prince.” Ellis closes his eyes slowly, as if resting them. “If you see the Hunter. Tell him I’m sorry.” He whispers, “Tell him he didn’t need to find me someone to lift this nonsense,” Ellis goes limp in his arms, “Tell him it… was always going to end this way.” Daven’s eyes go wide, “Ellis,” he starts to shake him, “Ellis, fuck, stop it! I’m going to… We’re going to get you help.” He starts dragging him again, he feels a weak hand on his chest.

“Here,” Ellis murmurs and his bloody hands push something at Daven, “The last one. Do something nice with it.” Sweat was beaded on Ellis’s forehead, his eyes are closing, Daven’s starts to hyperventilate as he watches the other boys head lull back. His whole body goes limp in his arms.

“No,” he gasps, “No!”

A single bloody feather falls out of Ellis’s hand and lands on the ground. It was the last one.

Daven collapses and paws at the stream of tears that flow down his face, I couldn’t save him. Daven folds into himself, I couldn’t save him!

His chest hallows out.

Daven lays Ellis’s limp body gently on the ground and hangs his head, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should never have even taken the first feather.” Daven is overwhelmed by a sudden shocking grief, something aches in him that he didn’t know existed. The soft look on Ellis’s face when he protected him the fog, the way he looked as he whispered about baths or perfumes or whatever else. The teasing, the smug smile, the everything.

Daven reaches for the last feather, just one feather left. Then something hits him across the face.

One. For health.

The feathers, the first one he got. One: for health.

Daven grasps the final feather in his hand and turns to Ellis, he sees a shallow rise and fall of the other boys chest. “It’s not too late.” He whispers.

Daven stuffs the feather into his mouth and begins to chew. It was crunchy and unwieldy in his mouth, a strange stiffness that forced his teeth to grind down painfully. He expects it to taste like copper and must, instead, it is bright- like morning sun or cool harvest afternoons. The way heather smells or a little warm drizzle across the skin. He feels the magic course through his veins, touching every nerve in his body with a soft pulse.

He chews the feather into a fine pulp and leans down, please. He begs the unknown, let this work, I don’t have to be a hero. I just need this to work.

Daven presses his salty cracked lips onto Ellis’s, tilting his chin up and gently opening his mouth, pressing the pulp between his lips. It’s nothing like a kiss should be, but he closes his eyes and pretends, pretends it’s a storybook, pretends witches and kings and curses can be overcome.

Let this work. He tries to make the world spin backward for him, just this once.

Daven tilts Ellis’s head up and messages his throat to help the paste go down, waiting for it to work it’s magic in his body. To make anything happen.

Daven waits.

He looks Ellis up and down, one hand on his wrist to feel for the fluttering faint pulse. Strangled breaths leave him as he counts down from a hundred.

Ellis’s pulse is almost nonexistent, Daven’s tears fall freely on the lifeless body in front of him, he counts. It is over.

The first breath sounds like a drowned man coming to land and then the second one like a dream- the type of dream that aren’t supposed to happen but do.

Ellis jerks upward, eyes flying open and coloring returning to his cheeks all at once, eyes clearing over to a perfect crystal green and skin mending. Daven watches in awe as his back starts lacing back together, like a rapid spiderweb being built across his exposed muscles.

Life returns to him.

Daven’s entire body drops, his arms fall to his side, his face falls open, he rocks down to the ground and exhales. He wipes at his soggy cheeks as Ellis takes deep, huffing breaths.

“What,” he inhales sharply and looks around, “What the hell just happened.” Daven sniffs loudly, “I think I just paid you back.” Ellis looks up, slowly, uncertainly, “You,” his mouth forms a perfect circle, he quickly feels for his back, searching for something. “You did this.” Daven crumples backward, “Don’t mention it.” He says with a tired smile, “Seriously.” He put his hand out, “I owe you.” Ellis blinks so slowly Daven thinks he might be going comatose. He tilts his chin up, “Why?”

Daven looks up at the pure blue sky, “I dunno.” He says confidently this time, “Maybe even cocky boys trapped in gardens deserve second chances.” Ellis hides his face for a moment, “I’m not,” he feels for his back again, “it’s gone.” Daven crawls over to him, “Look at that. You might be human again,” he offers his hand up, “Perhaps.”

Ellis looks at his hand openly, “Do you think that means…” He feels across his back once more, he blinks, “Is the rest of it lifted?” “There’s only one way to find out,” Daven says somberly and his eyes dart toward where the front gates would be. Ellis looks over to him cautiously, almost shyly, “Everyone I know is gone.” He whispers and holds himself carefully in place.

“You know me,” Daven wiggles his fingers, “And I don’t have a lot of friends right now either frankly.” Ellis tilts his chin up and reaches tentatively toward him, “I’m not sure if I can be friends with boys who enjoy kissing corpses.” “Heh,” Daven gives a brief laugh, “Well I hear you like secrets,” he says cheekily, “that one can be just between us.” Ellis laughs, a real shining laugh, “Alright. One of many.” He takes his hand and Daven guides him up to his feet again. “If you’d like.” His voice is small again.

“Sure.” Daven taps their heads together, “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” The widest smile he’s ever seen spreads across Ellis’s face, “Lord yes.” He squeezes his hand, as if he might float off otherwise. Ellis takes a moment, just a moment, to stand there.

“Ellis?” Daven asks as the other boy stands in front of him so awkwardly and unmoving.

It happens all at once, he leans in close and wraps his arms around his body.

“Thanks,” he pecks him quickly on the mouth, it’s warm and brief. Like a lightning bug’s sudden flash, lighting up against the dark night sky like a tiny firework. Ellis looks away, “Being dead was very boring.” Daven touches his mouth and tries not to smile, “Noted.”

Ellis tugs on his sleeve, “And don’t get that silly look on your face.” He orders, “I don’t fancy romantics.” He grabs his hand and smiles freely this time, “That’s too bad.” He wraps an arm around him, “because this is how all my sister’s romance stories go.” Ellis laughs as he picks him up, “Of all the idiots to save me…” He spins him around in the air and the sun hits their backs, Ellis clings to him and this isn’t the boy he met all those weeks ago. Thatch and his men escape- running off just as something in the air shifted, but that was a problem for another day. Daven returns to the front gates, this time with Ellis.

It’s beautiful, he thinks as he looks over his shoulders at the white gardens. It’s all so beautiful.

Ellis takes takes his hand, he’s shaking slightly, they look back out toward the waiting forest. “Are you scared?” “No.” He clamps down on his hand and Ellis glances over at him, “Maybe.” Daven takes a deep breath, “Come on,” he says patiently, “Whenever you’re ready.” Ellis straightens up, smile fading, “I’ve been ready… for a long time.” He takes the first steps. Ellis leads the way, light, glowing, featherless, he takes them through the gates and they walk back out into the world together.

THE END

<======= PART 3

[anawitchs]

2. Three Years

Relationship: Yang/Mercury Word count: 2,500 Rating: T Warnings: Child abuse (like, a lot of it) Prompt: Role swap

The sun creeps through dark curtains, a glittering cloud of dust swirling in its light; Yang squints at the hypnotising patterns they make in confusion. Something isn’t quite right, she realises, but her drowsiness makes it difficult to care, and her dad hasn’t called her for breakfast yet, so she rolls over and tries to go back to sleep.

A spring prods her side. Annoying. She wrinkles her nose and pushes at it, like she can move it back into place blind. Her bed is less comfortable than usual, hard and low on the ground, and that realisation is enough to finally make her question what the hell is going on.

This isn’t her room.

It’s a grim place, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, a distinct scent of mould carrying from somewhere nearby. A boy’s room, she’s certain. There are splits in the bare grey walls, empty pots of noodles over a tattered old desk. She sits up, closes her eyes and resets them, but nothing’s changed - the same miserable décor stares back at her in uncomfortable silence.

Maybe she’s dreaming. She throws the covers from her body and drags herself on heavy legs to the door that opens with a noisy creak. The hallway is no better, cigarette stains on an old dirty carpet, empty beer bottles trailing to another closed door. A harsh snoring comes from within that makes her hesitate before knocking, but even when she does, there’s no reply. Her uncle always sleeps like a log after a long night drinking, and since she might be a guest, she decides to let him rest. Maybe she can figure out what’s happening if she looks outside.

As she descends the steps, though, she comes face to face with a mirror cracked down the middle, splinters of glass spreading all the way to its corners. Distorted as it is, she can still see herself, or…

This isn’t her body.

The next time she wakes up in the strange boy’s house the man in the room isn’t sleeping. A booming voice calls for Mercury; she opens her door and find herself face to face with a white haired man who stumbles and glares down at her in a way that makes her skin crawl. When he approaches she takes a step back, but he grabs her arm and drags her down the stairs as she swears and struggles against him, and when she finally frees herself his hand comes down across her face in a mighty slap that brings tears to her eyes.

Out in the cold and shivering, he tells her to run laps around the house until he comes and gets her.

Pain stings sharply in her cheek. This isn’t a dream.

There’s a note on the door in a thick, messy scrawl.

Keep the door locked. There’s food under the bed. 

By food it means a half eaten packet of chips and a box of cereal. She puts it on the crowded desk and scowls at it, stomach growling for her dad’s bacon and eggs instead.

She’s not stupid enough to pretend she doesn’t know what’s happening. When she’s home Ruby tentatively asks how she’s feeling, her dad stepping round her like a minefield. She isn’t just inhabiting another person’s body, she’s swapping, and she knows that Mercury’s probably being treated to her breakfast in her place. It’s the first time he’s left her a message, and she decides to return the favour. It’s difficult, because she has a thousand questions and so few ways to convey them in text.

Hi Mercury, she begins. The pen is running out of ink, and she scribbles at the top until it works again. We’re really swapping bodies, huh? So weird. Hope you’re having fun being me. Don’t be mean to my family, okay? They’ll start asking questions and I have no idea how to answer yet. Do you know what’s going on? Or did you just wake up in my bed as confused as me? I looked everywhere and can’t find a phone - leave it on the desk so I can try and call you next time instead.

And… sorry I got you hit. I hope your face doesn’t hurt. I mean I know it does, I can feel it, but I guess I don’t really know what else to say. Is it always like this here? Don’t you have anywhere else to go?

Suddenly the door rumbles with the heavy fists that beat it, the man’s drunken slur loud and terrifying as thunder. Like the message says she keeps the door locked and stays silent as a mouse, waiting and waiting for him to grow tired. He calls Mercury every name under the sun, worthless, waste of space, pain in the ass, and her heart breaks more every second for the stranger she lives inside.

Eventually it stops. She hears him drag his feet away, him smash of a bottle against the wall. There’s no mirror in Mercury’s room, but she takes off her shirt and looks at the scars that line his body like veins, the cold prosthetics he wears thigh down, and she can handle it if it gives the poor kid a few moment’s respite.

I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t have a phone. It would have happened anyway. I’m not running away.

Who doesn’t have a phone!? This is so awkward. Thanks for messing up my room, by the way. Why did you touch Ruby’s comics? She thinks I’m the one who ripped the cover. Your diet stinks, by the way. So does your house. We can’t live like this.

I like comics. Did you clean my room?

Your washing machine doesn’t work, but yeah, I threw out your nasty trash. You’re welcome! Stay out of my drawers.

You want me to walk around naked in your body? Why does your dad keep leaving food outside the door.

Your dad got in. I’m here three nights a week and it’s terrifying. You can’t stay here.

Where else would I go?

When his dad’s passed out she takes the risk, heads into the village and memorises the path up the hill they live on in solitude. It’s a few hours by train and costs more than she has, but she can’t sleep thinking about him, about what might happen if she doesn’t intervene. The city turns to rolling hills and patchwork fields. Soft. Peaceful. Strange that they could hide something so tragic. The train shakes her up and down over old tracks as she worries the sleeves of her hoodie with her teeth. Whatever frustration he feels towards her intrusion will be worth it when all is done, she tells herself, and she ignores the fear of his rejection, of making things worse. She has to.

“Almost there,” Ruby says, drawing her from her thoughts. Yang nods. Ruby doesn’t know, not really, but she senses something more than meeting a friend for the first time and treats her delicately.

Maybe it’s not surprising his situation could go unnoticed. They’re the only ones who get off in Mercury’s little village, run down but still somehow picturesque like an old postcard, and the few people they pass don’t notice them despite how they stick out against the countryside.

They fill her with a bitter hatred, and she’s no longer certain if it’s hers or the ghost of his.

They follow the landmarks she’s mapped in her mind. Scarce farmhouses, fences, a path of dirt and rubble. Left at the empty stables, straight on from the old sycamore… it’s a trunk, now, and it gives her pause, makes her double back and check their steps, but it’s right where it should be. A few feet more. His dad might be awake, but she’ll fight if she has to. Just over the bump. There’s a kennel outside and an empty water bowl. Did they get a dog? Will she have to take that, too?

She knocks tentatively. Neither Mercury nor Marcus answer the door.

“Mercury?”

He blinks hard. It’s a gentle voice, a girl’s voice, so he must be in Yang’s body again - no one sounds like that where he’s from. A wave of relief ebbs over him, soothing the dread that comes with waking in his own bed. Strange to think people live in such comfort. That his life is the abnormal one. He regrets the magic that taught him any other way. Today all he’ll need to deal with is playing video games in her bedroom, reading her sister’s comics, eating her father’s cooking. It’s not until he prises his eyes open that he really registers what Ruby said.

Oh.

“You’re okay,” she breathes out, relieved for reasons beyond his comprehension. Yang’s thick hair cascades over his shoulders, and he touches her (his) face, soft and scar free for confirmation. “Yang told me everything. I knew something was wrong, but I never thought… it’s crazy, but awesome. I couldn’t wait to meet you. She talks about you all the time. I guess we knew each other all along though, huh?”

He sits up. This isn’t Yang’s room. It’s a bed and breakfast, with quaint wooden furniture and ugly painted landscapes across the walls.

“We might not have much time. I’m just so happy you’re okay! Yang was worried sick.”

“What the hell is going on?”

His head hurts. Ruby’s voice has that effect on him - sometimes it sounds the way looking into the sun feels, overwhelmingly bright, and now it’s directed at him, and nerves increase her pitch, her words tumbling out quicker than he can understand on such little sleep. Why is he so tired?

“This is going to be… hard to believe.”

“Harder than swapping bodies with some blonde from Vale?”

“Yeah.”

She’s serious. He rubs his head, sitting up a little straighter. Ruby takes a sharp breath before spluttering it out.

“We’re in Mistral. She wanted to see you. In person. To help you.”

His fists clench stubbornly, Yang’s long nails digging into his palms. “I don’t need help.”

“We went to your house,” she continues anyway, her speed leaving no room for further interruptions. “Yang was sure she knew the way, but she kept getting lost - she said things were different, but it didn’t make sense, because she’d only checked a few days ago. A woman answered. Yang was so sure it was your house - she remembered all the details - and she wouldn’t leave, and she kept asking where you’d gone, and…”

There’s a dull thud in his chest, something not quite right.

“Mercury. You died three years ago.”

His thoughts blank

“There was a fire. After they put it out they found you in your room, and you were beaten to death before it got to you, and your dad disappeared. He killed you, Mercury.” She bites her lip. Though she doesn’t know him, her eyes swim with tears. “Yang said she’d take everything she could carry and move you as far away as possible, but when you wake up you have to keep moving. I think we can stop it. You can come to us, and…”

Odd clips of news overheard that never made sense, music he’d never heard before, Yang’s phone a model not yet released. Now it clicks into place, and he should be sad, or angry, but all he feels is empty. It’s always been bad. He’s always been just one misstep away from it, one unlocked door. Hearing it’s worse than knowing, and what’s sad is that he believes her, completely, without hesitation.

“I can’t,” he says. “You won’t know me.”

Her kind hands takes his wrist, furrowed brow betraying her smile

“Find us in three years. We’ll be waiting."

The sun is warm on her skin through the open windows, not a cloud in the sky, a deceptively cheerful day that fails to improve her mood. The net curtains blow in the gentle breeze, birds stopping to taste the sunflowers that grow against the walls. Yang watches from the sofa, fingers tapping against her knee. She did all she could. Now all she can do is wait.

She left him in a train station waiting room, metal chairs a poor substitute for a bed but better than what she’d taken him from, infinitely better. It’s as far as she could get on his things she stole and sold. If they swap again she’ll do more, anything she can, because he’s out one fire with one foot in another.

Someone drums the door; her heart hammers with it.

For the first time, she sees him through her own eyes. It’s not like when she’s him. He holds himself differently, hardly taller than her with his shoulders hunched, stood uncomfortably with his hand at the back of his neck. Tense. Nervous. The bruises on his face are cleared, the scars fading, his cheeks a little less gaunt, a little less sickly. Her breath catches in her throat as she stares at him shamelessly, hardly daring to believe it.

“Hey,” he says.

She throws her arms around his neck and laughs.

“Hi.”

[flannelshirtandjeans]

I found an old drabbly thing of Jay and Cait’s friendship in my folders, cleaned it up a little to salvage it, and so here it is now! ;u;, I have feelings about them as friends hhhhh. Also platonic sleepy snuggles. 8))))) Not shippy!!! Platonic.

unnamed snippets 1& 2 from the same night feat. ferals, an unfortunate selection of food, return of The Teddy Bear of Comfort, and platonic snuggles

~ 1500 words

As night and exhaustion fell and neither Jay nor Cait had any will to keep trucking deeper into the abandoned feral-infested building but also no interest in heading out to find a dry shelter in the pouring rain outside, they traced their steps back to an office they’d seen earlier with a sturdy door that they could lock. They made their way back slowly, still on high alert, stepping over corpses, and setting up noise traps and mines to the corridor on both sides of the door to alert them to any remaining ferals if they somehow managed to wander to their door. Once they’d locked themselves inside, they pulled a heavy bookcase against the door for good measure.

    ‘Well, if that doesn’t keep them out then I don’t know what will!’ Cait said in her best confident voice, brushing off the dust the bookcase had sprinkled on her, but there was an uneasy undertone to her words. She flicked the light switch on the wall, and somehow, against all odds, a naked light bulb flickered into life in the ceiling.

     ‘Let’s hope they don’t come back to this part of the building at all,’ Jay said, squinting in the sudden light. He was more out of breath than he liked, but he had to admit that it had been a long day, and that his latest brush-up with a deathclaw had left him in a pretty bad shape, so all things considered he was doing pretty well. He scratched absently at the scar on his side through his clothes, and shrugged off his bags to fish out a couple of Nuka Colas. He handed the other one to Cait, who took it, smashed the cap open against a shelf’s edge, and drank almost a third in one go. She half-stifled a burp and wiped her mouth with a relatively clean spot on her forearm.

    ‘You really think we’re gonna be that lucky?’ She sounded almost disgusted, but Jay knew her well enough to know that the disgust wasn’t directed at him. He gave her a lopsided shrug and the brightest grin he could muster before sipping on his own drink.

    ‘I'm an optimist,’ he said. It had never felt such a lie as it did now with the exhausted tremble in his limbs, a heavy fear in his gut, and all his nerves pulled tight enough to scream constantly in his head and heart.

    Cait scoffed. ‘More like a bloody fool,’ she said and let her own bags fall onto the floor with a crash that was really loud in the quiet of the building, and for a brief moment Jay was certain that every remaining feral in the building turned towards the sound in unison. Somewhere above them something fell over with a crash almost like an encho, and Jay heard something skittering across the ceiling of the room - could have been a feral, or could have been something else. He was too tired and too terrified to tell. He knew he’d be flinching at every sound all night.

    But Cait’s expression was almost affectionate behind her rat’s nest of red hair and disapproving tone, and that made Jay’s breath a little easier and the knot of fear a little lighter.

     ‘So what are we eatin’?’ Cait asked then, easily slipping into a different topic. ‘I'm starving.’

     Jay wasn’t particularly hungry - no, that was a lie: he was ravenous, but the tight heavy fear resting swollen inside him and the putrid smell of the building and feral-secretions had done a number on his appetite. He scratched the scar on his cheek absently, put his bottle on the corner of a table, and pulled his bag close with his foot to rummage through it for what remained of their food.

    ‘Pork'n'Beans or Pork’n’Beans’, he said, pulling a can into the light. Cait groaned good-naturedly and took the can. She was better at using the can-opener.

    ‘You didn’t look when you packed, did you?’ she teased. ‘Only a tit like you would only pack fricking Pork’n’Beans.’

    ‘No, I looked,’ Jay said, defensive but laughing. ‘But the only other travel food I found in the closets back home was mac and cheese and that would have made this even more of a living hell for me! Some gas we can at least deal with!’

     ‘Maybe the ferals will faint if they somehow manage to break in,’ Cait laughed, and started cracking open the can. Jay didn’t even try not to laugh as he pulled the trangia out of his bag and started getting it set up under the room’s boarded-up window.

When they’d set their bedrolls behind a table that covered them from view from the door and gave them just enough time to get up and find their bearings in case their traps were triggered, they crawled into their bedrolls, food warm and heavy in their bellies (sitting with varying degrees of ease), too exhausted to try to stay up and chat anymore. They rolled around restlessly, rustling their covers and makeshift pillows for a long time. Neither could sleep, however - their breaths didn’t slow down to a sleepy rhythm, their yawning didn’t stop. Finally Cait made a disgusted noise, and said: ‘Toss me your Pip-Boy. I can’t sleep.’

     Jay made a sleepy noise and pushed the device across the uneven rough carpet, letting his arm slump right there when he couldn’t push it further. Cait reached to grab the device and sat up in her makeshift bed, scooting backwards to lean against the crumbling wall, and turned the Pip-Boy on. The orange light - Jay had somehow managed to change it from the green that made any and all room look ghastly - flickered on and painted her face and most of the wall, and Jay squinted even with his eyes shut.

     ‘Turn the sound off’, Jay mumbled, words slurring because his cheek was mushed against the pillow. Pile of clothes covered with a little hand towel, really.

    ‘How?”

    ‘I don’t know! Just. Try something.’

    ‘You don’t have a game in?’

    ‘They’re in the little pocket of the backpack. I think, if I didn’t take them out since the last trip.’

    Cait sighed and pushed herself forward to drag Jay’s bag from the foot end of his bedroll. She found the holotapes from the third small pocket she tried, and settled back against the wall. Jay cuddled himself deeper into his bedrolls and pressed his face against the pillow to block out some of the light.

    He reached out some fifteen minutes later to grab the bag and pull out a tattered teddy bear, pulling it against his chest without a word, without as much as a glance towards Cait, and curled up.

    Cait didn’t ask, but her fingers slipped on the controls of the game. Nobody asked anymore. They said nothing because the bear made Jay feel better. 

    Cait wrestled with her heart for a moment. Now that she thought back on their day, Jay’d been subdued, a little off key from the get-go - she’d chalked it up to the knowledge that they’d be wading through ferals by the end of the day, and who would be excited about that? But now she had a sneaking suspicion that it was something else. Some days Jay ached to his bones, and instead of punching out in his pain in a way Cait would have understood very well, he curled up around it inside and smiled until it either got a little easier to breathe again, or it was night and he could no longer run away from all his thoughts.

    That’s when the teddy bear came out. Or weeding pavements started. Or the firewood pile in Sanctuary suddently started building up.

    The next deep breath Jay took shook around the edges a little - not enough to herald tears, but enough to be heard anyway, and Cait couldn’t sit still anymore.

    ‘Alright,’ she said, and scooted sideways on her bedroll, setting the Pip-Boy on her lap and extending her arm to make room at her side. ‘Come ‘ere. You look like you could use a cuddle.’

     There was a brief moment of silence.

    ‘You said the next person to try to snuggle you would get their ass kicked to next year,’ Jay said, and though there was a slight bubble to the first couple of words, he sounded a little amused. Tired, but amused.

     ‘I’m inviting you to, you ass! And anyway I know you won’t try to paw at me or anything by now,’ Cait said and gestured at him impatiently. ‘Worst you’re gonna do is smell, and than’t mostly because of the beans. Do you need the cuddle or what?’

     There was a brief pause again, and then Jay got up and dragged his bedroll next to Cait’s. He snuggled up back against her side and rested his head on her shoulder, radiating heat through the blankets. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He pulled the teddy bear close again, but didn’t hug it quite as tightly against chest.

     Cait found a comfortable rest for her arm on his shoulder and let it stay there, and turned her attention back to the Pip-Boy, a smile playing on her lips. She’d have to play one-handed, but that was all right. Maybe Jay wouldn’t sleep any easier, but maybe, just maybe, Cait could give him back just a fraction of the comfort he’d given her so far.