#yellow pages script

[dhmis-autism]

SORRY. JUST REALIZED I ORIGINALLY SKETCHED THE STUFF FROM THAT LAST WIP POST IN. MARCH.

GODDDD...

[ghostchasersmagazine]

Since there was interest in seeing it, here are the pages to the original episode concept write-up for the Goober and the Ghost Chasers episode "Go West, Young Ghost, Go West!".

The most major differences between this concept write-up and the finalized episode (along with a couple that just happened to catch my attention) are listed below:

. In the episode concept, the episode opens with Gillie trying (and failing) to trim Goober's hair. In the finalized episode, the episode opens with Gilly trying (and failing) to win a game of checkers against him.

Relatedly, in the episode concept, Ted and Tina already know about the haunted house at the SunFun Amusement Park before Danny Partridge calls them, so they're a little irritated by Gillie and Goober's shenanigans. In the finalized episode however, Ted and Tina are not aware of the haunted house at the FunLand Amusement Park until Laurie Partridge calls them, so they're more relaxed about Gillie and Goober's game.

. In the episode concept there were three villains: the rival amusement park owner Jonas Lagree as the fake ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch, his wife Mrs. Lagree as Madame La Zonga the Fortune Teller, and his unnamed henchman as the Knight. In the finalized episode, there was only one villain, the rival amusement park owner Mr. Snooker as the fake ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch.

Because of this reducing of villains, a lot of the villain scenes were either changed or gotten rid of entirely for the finalized episode. For instance, in the finalized episode there is only one scene with the Fortune Teller (which serves more as an atmosphere builder than an indication that she's an actual character), with Gillie willingly going to see her. In the episode concept, however, Goober has to force Gillie to go see her, which then leads to a scene with the two of them escaping a flood of custard which isn't present in the finalized episode.

The Knight never appears in the final episode at all, so scenes such as the one with Gillie, Goober, and Danny encountering him in the library and him messing with their flashlights were removed entirely. (In fact, the whole scene with Goober going to get flashlights is removed. My guess is the scene with the lights going out and the candles floating over replaced it thematically.) In the finalized episode, they instead encounter the fake ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch in a hallway at first.

. In the episode concept, the group finds out about the legend of Ichabod Ipswitch from a book Ted reads from after it mysteriously floats over to them. In the finalized episode, Mr. Dodd tells them the legend directly and there's no book scene at all.

. In the episode concept, a lot more of the Apparition Apparatus Kit is used, with mentions of the Haunter-Taunter, the Poltergeist Powder, and the Post-Ghost Scanner. In the finalized episode, Ted only ever uses the Spector Detector.

. In the episode concept, it was Gillie's idea to try and trap "the ghost" with a sheet, which he, Goober, and Danny do, only to realize it was really Mr. Dodd. In the finalized episode, it was Ted's idea to try and catch "the ghost" with a sheet, which Gillie helps him do, only to realize it was really Mr. Dodd.

. In the episode concept, Ted was the one who suggested Mr. Dodd take Chris and Tracy onto the park rides as a way to keep them safe. In the finalized episode, it was Mr. Dodd's idea for him to take Chris and Tracy onto the park rides as a way to distract them while the rest of the group investigated.

Relatedly, in the episode concept Chris and Tracy spend most of their scenes driving around in bumper cars because they were told to "stay in their cars". They end up meeting the real ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch and chasing him around the amusement park, starting in the Tunnel of Love. In the finalized episode, the two of them leave the bumper cars on foot because they're bored and go straight to the Fun House because Chris didn't want to go through the Tunnel of Love. There they meet the real ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch and three are immediately friendly with one another.

. In the episode concept, it was Gillie, Goober, and Danny who get chased by the fake ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch on the rollercoaster, with Mr. Dodd later appearing the scene. In the finalized episode, it's Ted, Tina, and Laurie who gets chased by the fake ghost of Ichabod Ipswitch on the rollercoaster, with Mr. Dodd never making an appearance.

Similarly, in the episode concept the roller coaster scene leads to more scenes involving amusement park rides, including a ferris wheel, a parachute ride, and a merry-go-round, none of which appear in the finalized episode. However, the finalized episode does have a scene with a spinning floor ride which does not appear in the concept write-up.

. In the episode concept there's a moment in the Hall of Mirrors scene where Danny and Gillie follow Goober into a framed mirror and someone (presumably Gillie) makes a reference to Alice in Wonderland. In the finalized episode this moment and line do not appear.

[johnbottoms]

there r certain voice acting crimes that certain actors have committed that I will just simply never forgive ever in my whole life and I have a grudge against those actors forevermore . they r christian bale as howl. and matt damon as sprit the stallion. of the cimarron

[evamame]

iwaizumi attacking you with wet kisses all over your face while you’re bathing in the sun after he comes out from the pool soaking wet.

you’re laying on a chair beside the pool, bathing in the sunny glow that graces your skin with a comforting warmth. not in the mood for a dip, you flip through the pages of your book leisurely as you enjoy the summer heat.

iwaizumi climbs up the ladder out of the pool, all done cooling off in the water. he grabs the neatly folded towel resting on the lounge chair saved for him right next to yours, quickly patting off the beads of water resting on his skin before ruffling the cloth through his short spiky hair. the view is nice. the summer view is nice too—the buzz of bees flying around and yellow dandelions scattered across the lawn—but the real view is the whole 179.3 centimeters standing tall next to you.

“why didn’t you join me in the water?” he asks, squinting as the sun hits his eyes.

“didn’t feel like getting wet,” you say, eyes still trained on the words on your page.

“i can get you wet,” he says with a cheeky grin, one that doesn’t falter even as you wack the book into his thigh.

he chuckles, leaning down and beginning to pepper wet open mouthed kisses all over your face. the water still remnant on his lips wipes all over you as he presses them on your cheeks, your forehead, your temple, your jaw, the tip of your nose, practically anywhere else he can reach, and then finally your lips.

in the midst of his banter you laugh, trying to fight him to no relent. “iwa, stop! you’re getting me all wet!”

“can’t help it. you look gorgeous in that bathing suit,” he murmurs, trying to find any sort of real estate he can to press his lips on.

you put the book down, using your hands to try and claw at his face and push it away. he’s too persistent in slobbering all over your face like a dog for your attempts to work, though. he just starts kissing your palms until they feel numb.

once he’s finally done attacking you with his kisses, he pulls away and simply stays there in front of you, leaning over the chair and grinning at you, his face not even inches away from yours.

“what?”

“nothing,” his teeth are still bared, his smile reaching from ear to ear.

“you’re grinning like an idiot for no reason. i don’t see what’s so funny.” with another scolding yet playful slap of your book to his leg, you open up the page you had dog eared and try to continue reading without his disruption.

to no surprise, it’s pointless as he continues to try and press as many of your buttons as he can. “you look really pretty under the sun.”

you glance up from the words on the page, mouth open and ready for a witty remark. you fall flat at the sight of him, though. the suds still on his face and the wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead make all of the blood in your body flood to your cheeks. every one of his perfections—because in your eyes he has no imperfections—are perfectly complimented by the sun’s rays that highlight his tan skin and the contours of his stupidly handsome face.

the thoughts rushing through your mind make you fall short, and the words you look pretty under the sun too almost slip out before you can catch them. you want to tell him that, but you’re supposed to be irritated with him for slobbering all over your face. sticking to the script, you just look away and try to focus on reading. but iwaizumi can tell you’re just lost in your thoughts when your gaze doesn’t move across the page.

you catch the way his grin fades into a more genuine smile of the sorts, one that shows he’s really happy over you becoming a blushing mess because of him and not just trying to tease you into oblivion.

from the spot in his own lounge chair that he’s taken while you’ve been processing what had just happened, you hear him speak. “join me in the pool now?”

that earns him a book thrown at the head and a loud, firm, no.

masterlist | taglist | tags: @scoupsworld @amaliaaliena @mires765 a/n: realistically i’d be in the pool playing mermaids but that’s besides the point.

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[dex0s]

DON'T WORRY 'BOUT A THING// YAN!KPDH x READER

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

WARNING:: YANDERE?, OOC GWI-MA, PLOT

CHAPTER 3 <<< CHAPTER 4 (Here)

(A/N): I know I said there maybe smut, but I feel like it would be to quick in the story to have smut so maybe in chapter 6 or chapter 7 after you meet the Saja boys.

As you step through the front door of your house, a strange stillness greets you—familiar, yet almost surreal. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath your feet echoes like a question in your mind. You pause, glancing around, wondering if everything that just happened was nothing more than a strange, vivid dream.

Maybe none of it was real.

Maybe it was all just your imagination. But then your thoughts drift to Rual. The memory of his smile, his voice, the way he looked at you—it all comes rushing back like a warm wave.

And suddenly, you know. If Rual was part of that dream... then you never want to wake up. That wouldn't be just a dream. It would be the best dream ever.

But deep down, you know better.

This isn't a dream. This is reality. A reality steeped in shadows, one where demons walk freely, where the rules you once lived by no longer apply.

It's a world wrapped in layers of the unknown, where truth hides behind riddles and every answer only leads to more questions. Mysteries linger in the corners of your vision, just out of reach, whispering warnings you can't quite understand.

And yet... this is your world now. Real. Dangerous. Unforgiving. But still, somehow, breathtakingly alive.

But what if those so-called mysteries aren't mysteries at all? What if they're simply truths, fragments of information buried by time, forgotten by the world but not lost forever?

The thought hits you like a spark in the dark.

Your heart lurches with urgency. Without thinking, you break into a speed walk, almost a run, feet thudding against the floor as you make your way to your bedroom. You push open the door, breath catching in your throat.

There it is. Sitting on your desk like a beacon of hope in a collapsing world—your computer. Your lovely, loyal tool. Cold, glowing, silent. But maybe it holds the answers. Maybe the secrets you're desperate to uncover have been sitting there all along, just waiting for the right questions.

You drop into your chair without hesitation, your fingers already dancing across the keys before your mind fully catches up.

What is the Honmoon?

The screen blinks, loading.

Can you have one soul but two bodies?

That one makes you hesitate for a second. The question feels too big, too impossible. But you hit enter anyway. You're not here to play it safe.

The history of the Honmoon. What is the meaning behind the Honmoon. Are demons real?

One question after another, you chase the answers like you're chasing oxygen. A sense of urgency buzzes in your veins. Every click, every scroll feels like peeling back layers of something ancient—something long buried beneath silence, denial, and fear.

Somewhere, deep down, you know this is only the beginning. But at least now... you're finally looking.

And there it is.

Your breath catches as your eyes lock onto the screen. The answer, the reason behind all of this chaos, the thread tying everything together, appears like it was waiting for you.

"Honmoon and the History Behind It."

Your heart thuds louder. You click it without hesitation. It's not even a modern article, not a blog post, not a research paper. It's a PDF, scanned images of pages from an ancient, time-worn book. The pages are yellowed and uneven, the ink faded in places, but the words still pulse with weight—like they've been holding their breath for centuries, waiting to be read again.

"Whatever," you mutter, dragging a hand down your face. "I just need to know how the hell I'm connected to this."

You sigh, but your eyes stay locked on the screen.

Then you begin.

The first page is written in ornate script; each letter carved like it was never meant to be forgotten. At the top, a phrase stands out in bold:

"The Honmoon: The Soul's Divide."

Your pulse quickens.

You scroll.

A hand-drawn diagram of a body split in two. Two figures sharing the same soul at their core, stares back at you. The text around it speaks of ancient rituals, cosmic laws, and forgotten truths. It explains how the Honmoon is not just a bond... it is a mirror, a tether, a curse and a gift. A soul split across time, across flesh, meant to awaken only when the world is on the brink of collapse—or evolution.

And suddenly... it's not just a search anymore.

It's your story. Or past story

You lean in closer.

Because this isn't just information anymore.

This may be the key to your future. Or your undoing.

You stare at the screen, heart slowing to a deep, steady beat as the pages begin to unfold a story—not in words, but in pictures. Ancient illustrations, weathered with age, yet strikingly detailed, begin to tell a tale older than language itself.

On the first page: A demon, tall and regal, a jagged crown atop its horned head, sits slouched in sorrow. Its face is drawn in heavy shadows, eyes hollow, lips pulled into a deep frown. Loneliness radiates from the ink like heat.

The next image: A human—or something that looks human—approaches the demon, hand outstretched. In its palm is a glowing object shaped like a heart, though it pulses with light, not blood. The two figures speak, but the language is written in symbols you can't understand. Still, the moment feels... intimate. Sacred.

You scroll again. Now the crowned demon wields that heart-shaped power. It uses it—on others, on the world, on the very human who gave it. But something has changed. The human figure stands at a distance, no longer reaching out, but watching. Saddened. Disappointed.

The next page: The figure, crying now, takes the glowing heart back. The demon is reaching out, pleading. Symbols spiral out of the figure's mouth, sharp and jagged like broken glass. Then, in the final frame of the sequence, the figure fades—vanishing in a swirl of ink and shadow—leaving the demon alone, kneeling, arms outstretched in silent desperation.

And then, the last page.

You freeze.

A detailed drawing stares back at you—eyes. Wide, cold, and unblinking. The pupils are thin slits, like a predator's, surrounded by intricate runes and swirling smoke. They look straight at you. Through the screen. Through you.

Your skin crawls.

Beneath the image, a final line in modern text—a translation.

"By thread and smoke I weave the night,

A name once breathed, now locked from light.

I watch, I wait, I call you near.

Through the walls of thoughts, through the dreams and fears.

What's bound in want is mine within."

You read it aloud without thinking. The words fall from your lips like someone else is speaking through you.

flicker. The lights blink twice.

Then they begin to stutter wildly.

Your computer screen glitches, distorting into unreadable symbols. And then—the ground trembles. Your whole house groans. Furniture rattles, the window creaks in protest. Earthquake?

Panicking, you duck under your desk, heart slamming against your ribs.

Then you see it.

The air ripples like heat above a stove, and from the center of your room pink flames burst into life—swaying unnaturally, dancing in silence. Within them, a grin appears—wide, monstrous, and made of purple fire, curling into an expression that's nothing but hunger and glee.

It doesn't blink. It doesn't move. But it knows you're there. And it's smiling just for you.

".다간 가내 제이 니으렀불 을양 내"

The air grows thick—too thick to breathe. Your chest tightens as the flames shift and twist, taking on a form that feels impossibly old, impossibly familiar.

And then... it speaks.

Its voice is layered—low, echoing, threaded with whispers that don't match its mouth. It speaks as though it's waited eons, as though time itself bent backward just for this meeting.

"You are back..."

You freeze.

Your mouth opens, but no words come. Your throat is dry, your thoughts scattering like ash in wind. What do you say when a flaming demon is standing inches from your reality?

Nothing. You just stare, trembling, lips parted in silent shock.

If it had a human face—if it had a soul—you're sure it would've tilted its head just then, curious, like a dog listening to its master. Instead, it remains still, flickering, fire crackling softly in the quiet like a heartbeat in a cave.

Then its flames shift.

With a hiss and a gust of heat, the swirling fire contorts and tightens. Flesh. Skin. A face. A body. The fire morphs until it's no longer just a demon—it's him. The demon from the book. The one who lost everything. The one who fell from grace because of power.

The one who was left behind.

His humanlike form steps toward you, slow and deliberate. His eyes—slitted and ancient—glow with an unreadable mix of pain and obsession. He doesn't blink. He doesn't stop.

You scramble back on the floor, pressing your back against the wall.

"S-Stay back!" you shout, but your voice is thin—weak against the weight of his presence.

He doesn't listen.

He leans down, face inches from yours, and his flaming hand, now shaped like a man's but still burning with otherworldly heat, grabs your face.

It doesn't burn—but it should. It feels like fire and ice and memory all at once.

He studies you.

Eyes scanning, not just your face, but you—like he's peeling back layers, looking through your skin, into your blood, into your soul.

His expression softens, and he whispers, voice trembling with something between wonder and grief:

"I lost you so long ago," he murmurs, his voice breaking like a cracked bell, low and mournful. "So long ago, I thought I would never see you again... my love."

The words hit you like a thunderclap. My love.

You sit frozen, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Your mouth is slightly open, but there's nothing to say. What could you say?

The man—no, the demon—kneels before you now, his flaming hand still gently holding your face, his eyes locked on yours as if you're the only thing left holding his universe together.

You stare back.

Not out of courage, but because you can't look away. He's too beautiful in that otherworldly way, too sad, too haunted. Like a forgotten god grieving something he once had and never deserved.

"You don't remember... do you?" he asks softly, his voice almost tender. His expression falters for just a moment—like hope slipping through his fingers. "Not yet."

A flicker of flame trails down his cheek like a tear. Then he leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours.

"Let me help you... my love."

Before you can react, before you can speak, he places two fingers gently against the center of your forehead. The contact burns and soothes at the same time—a searing sensation that wraps around your mind like a velvet chain.

And then—the world vanishes.

Flashes flood your mind.

Under the earth's crust under the hot fires Your own hands, glowing with the same light as the heart-shaped object in the book. The demon—him—kneeling before you once again, only in another life, another world, whispering your name with such longing it aches in your chest even now. A war. A betrayal. A goodbye soaked in sorrow.

And just as quickly, it's gone.

You gasp as you're pulled back into your bedroom, heart racing, skin clammy with sweat.

But nothing's the same now.

Because a part of you—some hidden, ancient part—is whispering back:

You knew him. You loved him. And you left him.

Gwi-Ma. The name echoes in your skull like a drumbeat from a memory you didn't know you had.

The Demon King. The one you once loved. The one you left... because of his hunger for power. Because he chose the throne over you.

Now here he is again, not as a dream or a myth, but flesh, flame, and fury.

You feel him—really feel him—his hand grasping at you beneath the desk, his grip firm but not cruel, pulling you closer, dragging you toward him with a desperate kind of reverence.

"N-No!" you shout, panic rising in your throat like bile. You cling to the desk leg, fingers turning white from how tightly you grip it. "Let me go! I'm not the same person you lost!"

His eyes darken. The fire around him pulses—anger crackling in the air like a storm brewing.

"Yes, you are," he growls, voice thunderous now, all gentleness gone. "You're the same. You feel it—don't lie to me."

His face is closer now, twisted in frustration and longing. "Don't fight me. Just come with me... so we can go home."

Home.

The word makes your stomach twist.

"No, no, no!" you scream, voice rising into a piercing pitch, raw and full of something ancient and terrified.

Then—light.

A sudden, blinding golden glow erupts from your chest, bursting through the front of your shirt like a star being born. Gwi-Ma jerks back, startled. His hand falls away from your skin, his eyes widening—not in anger, but in awe and recognition.

Beneath him, the Honmoon—the symbol, the force, whatever it is—flares to life. A brilliant, sacred light floods the room. The same kind of glow from the book. From the past.

He stumbles backward, shielding his face with one arm as the light intensifies.

And for the first time, he hesitates.

His gaze lingers on you, expression unreadable—torn between fury and heartbreak.

"You can run..." he says, his voice now low and edged with something bitter. "But know this..."

His flames twist upward, licking the ceiling, curling around his body.

"I will always be in your shadow."

With that, the pink fire swallows him whole. A swirl of embers. A hiss. And he's gone.

The room is silent again.

Your chest still glows faintly, slowly fading. You're alone. For now.

But the words linger in the air like smoke.

Your phone starts ringing, its shrill tone cutting through the eerie silence like a knife. You flinch, the sound jarring after everything that just happened. For a moment, you just stare at it, still sitting under the desk, the faint glow on your chest finally gone.

Your legs feel shaky, but you force yourself to move. With effort, you crawl out and stand, one hand gripping the desk to steady yourself. Your right leg trembles under your weight, residual fear or maybe something deeper, but you manage to shuffle out into the living room, the ringing growing louder with every uneven step.

You pick up the phone without even checking the caller ID.

“Hey,” comes a familiar voice, warm, casual, unaware of the chaos you just lived through. “You have a show request with the Saja boys tomorrow. Do you want to do it?”

It’s Rual.

His voice feels like a rope tying you back to normal life, but your mind is still spinning. The Saja boys. The memory hits you instantly, Huntr/x calling them demons. Those yellow eyes. The glowing marks. The strange aura they carried like armor.

And after everything you’ve just seen, the book, the flames, the pink fire, Gwi-Ma, you believe it now.

The Saja boys are not normal.

They might know what the Honmoon really is. They might know who you really are. They might even know how to stop whatever the hell is happening.

But what if they’re dangerous? What if you're walking into something you’re not ready for?

You barely made it out of one encounter. You don’t know how to fight demons. You don’t even fully remember yourself yet.

Still, you think of the golden light, the way it burned out of your chest. Whatever this Honmoon is, it’s a part of you and you’re starting to realize you can’t run from it anymore.

After a pause, you steady your breath and lift the phone back to your ear.

“Yeah… sure,” you say slowly. “I’ll go.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then Rual speaks again, teasingly, “That didn’t sound very confident.”

You manage a small, dry laugh. “I’m just… tired.”

“Fair enough.”

You hesitate for a second, then add, “But… I have a request for the Saja boys.”

Rual hums, suddenly curious. “A request?”

“Yeah. It’s important. Can you set it up?”

You don’t say more. Not yet.

You don’t know how much you can trust anyone right now. But if there’s even the slightest chance that the Saja boys hold the key to this puzzle You're ready to take the risk.

TAGLIST (Comment on this post to be put on) : @reni502, @zomqiez, @sylum, @bad4amficideas, @apelepikozume, @notheroverthinker

[yojeongin]

I remember everything | j.jh

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

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

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

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

wc: 28.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun remembers it well. 

How can such a beautiful place bring him agony? 

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

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

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

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

That was the first time he met you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nowadays, Jaehyun consumes those items whenever he grows scared 

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

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

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

“Months?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beautiful. Utterly beautiful, he thought.

“Come, I’ll show you around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How far?” “Overseas.”

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

“$3.56 per minute.”

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

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

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

“It’s Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

Shit. Just like that. 

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

“It’s okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun found joy through you and your acts of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darn him and his cuteness! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, you would have won, Y/n.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re avoiding me.” “No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye, Jaehyun.” “Bye, Ollie.”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why the hell would he have a plane ticket?!

‘Dear Jaehyun,

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

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

Sincerely, Jude.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Dear Jaehyun,

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

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

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

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

Best regards,  Jude.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Misery likes company.” 

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

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

“Got a letter from my manager…” “So?”

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

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

“I leave this Sunday, Y/n.” “Oh.”

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

Misery does love company.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”  “Yes.”

Jaehyun smiles at her. 

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

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

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

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

“You’ll let me in again?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you…” “It’s just advice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you keep looking at the cracks?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s surreal how cruel and love can be.

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

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

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

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

“Take care.” 

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

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

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

“I love you too…”

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

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

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

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

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

“No!”

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

Letters that will never arrive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, Gremlin, take care!

Sincerely, Y/n.’

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

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

“Hello?”

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

“Hello?!”

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

“Y/n–” “...” 

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

“Jaehyun…” “I remember everything.”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ok I just saw your Vamp!Rhys brain rot headcanons post and I'm letting you know right now if you do not develop them into full blown chapters for Vamp!Rhys I'll literally sue for emotional damages ok thank you <3

lol I suppose I can make that happen ;)

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

Ancient Recipes

The bed is, surprisingly, empty when you awaken, the last rays of evening light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. Your hands brush absently through the cold sheets as if they could tell you where he’d disappeared off to. He’s not usually up this early.

With a yawn, you slide out of bed and yank on one of his discarded shirts, leaving the silky button down open down the middle in a half-hearted attempt at decency before padding off in search of him. 

The library and game room is empty, the curtains pulled tight, the air a little stuffy. You can hear Cassian snoring from behind his closed door and a tendril of shadow still guard’s Azriel’s door handle, telling you that he’s not off with either of them this early.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering down into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty too, but figuring it’s worth a shot. You’re surprised to find Rhys bent over the stove, shirtless, sleep pants slung low over his hips as he carefully chops a mix of vegetables. His ears twitch as you walk towards him, a sure sign that he hears your approach. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says without turning. You can hear the pout in his voice without seeing the purse of those full lips you love so much.

“Missed you,” you say as you slide your arms around his waist and bury your head between his shoulder blades.

He sets the knife down long enough to run a hand over where yours hold his waist. “I was coming right back.”

You place a kiss against his spine before leaning around him to get a better view of what he’s doing. “I didn’t know you could cook?”

“I am a thousand years old, Darling,” he purrs. “That’s a long time to not learn how to prepare a meal.”

There’s an old, hand written book propped up against the stone wall, the swirling script fading under the cruel hands of time in a language long forgotten. The pages are brittle and yellow now, the date written in the corner nearly illegible. 

“What are you making?”

Skilled hands throw in diced vegetables and dried herbs into a pot simmering with some sort of red sauce. “Something my mother used to make me,” he says softly. “These are her recipes.”

Your chest tightens. He’d told you about the hunters that had killed his mother and sister not long after that night when those hunters had come for you. He’d, understandably, been on edge since, the encounter bringing up a lot of old memories he hadn’t touched. It’s little surprise that he would try and find some solace here.

“Smells good,” you say. 

He twists and pulls you in front of him, so you can watch as he works. “Can’t find all the right ingredients,” he frowns. “Some of these spices have been lost to time. I think these will work instead. Hopefully.”

Rhys dips a wooden spoon into the bubbling liquid and brings it to your lips, “Try this for me?”

You give it a second to cool before taking a taste, the mixture both earthy and spicy, but deliciously warm. “It’s good!”

“Yes, but is it right?” He insists.

You tilt your head up to look at him, brows raised, “How would I know, Rhysand? By the sound of it, most of the things you’re missing were lost to the world before my parents were even born.”

You think if he was capable of it he might have blushed against the mistake. Instead, he kisses the top of your head. “I suppose I could ask Az.” He licks a bit of the mixture, frowning as he goes, before putting the spoon directly back into the pot. Apparently a key ingredient in ancient recipes is a little bit of saliva. 

A moment later, the shadowy vampire emerges, summoned for this oh so important errand. Azriel’s dark hair is sleep tousled, shadows swirling lazily around his bare shoulders. Any other morning with the two males looking like this you would have climbed them like a tree, but this morning is apparently for other things, as Rhys nearly flings the spoon in Azriel’s direction. 

“What am I missing?” He demands.

Az takes a taste and spits it into the sink. “What did you do?!” He all but shoves the two of you out of the way to reach for the spice rack in the cupboards above your head. “Your mother would have beat you with that spoon.”

“I know!” Rhys huffs. “What did I forget?”

Azriel starts opening old jars of dried herbs and adding them into the pot. “Egg and thyme for one thing, dumbass.”

Rhys grabs the book off the counter and looks more closely at the recipe, keeping one arm around your shoulders to have you close even so. “Oh, yeah I did forget the egg.”

Azriel cracks four of them into the mixture, before throwing in more herbs. “You’re cooking it too high too.”

Rhys brushes his lips over your hair. “Wanted to bring it to you in bed before you woke up.”

You twist and lean up on your toes to give him a proper good morning kiss. “I would have loved it anyway.”

“Human taste buds are disgusting,” Azriel huffs.

You hear Cassian’s footsteps before you see the half-awake vampire stumble into the kitchen. “Are we cooking what I think we are?”

“Not if Rhys has anything to do with it,” Azriel huffs.

“It was for Y/N!” Rhys returns. “I didn’t make enough for everyone.”

“But she’s so good at sharing,” Cassian says with a wink, his sleep thick voice enough to make heat pool between your legs. 

Rhys lifts you up and places you on the counter, beside where Azriel still chops more ingredients, so he can kiss you deeper this time. “Mine.” 

“Not with your cooking she’s not,” Azriel quips. 

Cassian tuts as he comes over to Azriel’s other side and dips a finger into the now simmering pot. Azriel smacks his hand with the back of the wooden spoon and Rhys hisses, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

“How are you supposed to take care of the little human if you can’t even cook her a decent meal?” He brings his fingers to his mouth for a taste, then frowns. “Do neither of you own any peppers at all? What is this, baby food?”

“I added the aleppo, just as the recipe said!” Rhys retorts. 

“You definitely didn’t! Your mother never made anything this bland!” Cassian insists.

“I’m following the recipe!”

Azriel snatches the book, scarred hands thumbing quickly through the pages. “I remember it being spicier.”

Rhys frowns. “Maybe we’re thinking of that other recipe she used to make?”

“No that one was for dinner,” Cassian returns. “I definitely remember a spicy breakfast dish. Especially on cold winter mornings.”

“He’s right,” Azriel chimes in, eyes still glued to the pages. 

“I mean, our tastes did change when we turned, maybe we’re the problem?” Cassian asks, running a hand over his face in thought. 

“Your tastes change when you turn?” You ask.

“A little,” Rhys says with a frown, violet eyes on the dish. “Maybe you’re right, Cass. Did you think it was spicy, Darling?” 

“A little,” you reply. “It could use more, I think, but again, I’ve never tried it before so I’m not exactly an expert.”

Cass peers into the pot. “It looks right.”

Azriel sets the book back on the counter with nothing short of reverence. “Guess it is us.”

Rhys’s face falls, it’s like watching him lose a piece of the past. You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think any mother would be proud to know that you loved something so much that you put all this effort into sharing it, whether is tastes the same or not.”

His grin is soft, like the kiss he plants on your lips, taking his time to pull out of it.

“Thank you for sharing a piece of you with me,” you say.

Azriel scoops it up into four small portions, the wooden dishes old and reminiscent of a time long passed. Not the formal dining ware they bring out at parties, but a little piece of home that managed to survive the passage of time. 

It’s delicious, Az had been right about needing the egg and thyme, it brings a more rounded flavor to the dish. But it would have been equally fine if Rhys had brought the first attempt to you in bed, simply because he loved you enough to try and make something for you even when he could not fully enjoy it himself. It tastes all the better because it’s something the four of you can share, can make new memories out of. You certainly will not forget it, not even in the coming change of your mortality. 

“Well now you’ve got me curious for what other ancient recipes you’ve been hiding,” you say as the meal comes to a close. 

“You make us sound like we’re old as dirt,” Cassian huffs. 

You wink up at Rhys as he kisses your temple. “A thousand years is a long time. What else can you make for me?”

[spencereidluver]

E is for Even Guys Like Me?

september 12, 2008

summary: You tell Spencer about the conversation you'd overheard with his mother. He gets embarrassed, and even a little angry.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: the slightest teensiest bit of angst. mostly just a lot of spencer crushing for reader

It had been a little over two weeks since you overheard Spencer’s phone call with his mother. You’d been making it your mission to drop little hints at him about your feelings being the same, but they all seemed to just go over his head. You decided it’d be best to find a moment and tell him directly before it’s too late. 

You were on a case right now, you and Spencer once again staying back in the PD to work on the intellectual side of things. Though a lot of time was spent together, this was not a time for deep conversations. You’d wait on the case before you said anything. You didn’t want to distract the genius. Because, despite what he had told Hotch in your meeting last month, Spencer did most of the work. You were just there on the off chance that he didn’t know something, which was pretty much never.

Three days went by, you had to try your best to not be too flirtatious with Spencer. He got flustered fast. And you weren’t sure how experienced he was, you didn’t want to move too quickly. Though your guys’ carpooling and coffee sharing was normal, it felt different for you now. More meaningful. You caught yourself blushing sometimes when the tall boy would bring in two cups of coffee, one with his name and one with yours. He’d even begun leaving sticky notes on them sometimes, ever since you did the morning of the phone call. You’ve saved them all in your desk, his handwritten script being some of the most effortlessly beautiful things you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on.

_____

You’re seated on the jet on the way home from the case. Directly to your left, is Spencer, who is deeply entranced in a book, “A Study in Scarlet,” by Arthur Conan Doyle, the book that he received in last year’s white elephant gift exchange, which took place before you began working at the BAU. Across from you is Emily and Derek, and Hotch and Rossi are at the booth behind her. JJ stayed home for this case as she is pregnant. She is in charge of files until she gives birth and returns from maternity leave. 

The silence in the jet is broken by a head turn from Hotch who clears his throat. “Are you three up for dinner tonight?” He says.

“My treat,” Rossi adds. 

“Well, if Papa Dave is paying, then of course I’ll be there,” Emily says.

“Sure, I’ll go,” you said, glancing over at Spencer who hadn’t even looked up from his book. “I’m sure Spence will come too.” Derek kicked you under the table and gave you a wink. His teasings were the main reason you haven't made any moves on Spencer prior to hearing him speak to his mother about you. 

Almost on beat, Spencer looks up, “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll just need a ride if that’s alright,” he said. His eyes met yours.

“I’ll give you a ride, Spence.” Another kick from Derek, this time, you kick him back. Emily catches on to the teasing game of footsies going on under the table and gives you and Derek a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at the two of them and pull your feet into your lap. Sitting criss-cross now, you pull out your book of crossword puzzles and begin scribbling answers.

_____

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed. Emily and Derek had fallen asleep, and not a peep had been heard from Rossi or Hotch either. Spencer was still awake and was coming up on the final few pages of his book. He was curled into a small ball against the wall in the corner of the seat, his knees to his chest and feet pointed toward you. His mismatched socks peeked out from beneath his khakis, one pink and one yellow. The shoestring of his left converse was coming untied. Untied! That was the answer to the last line of your puzzle! You subconsciously thank Spencer for his accidental aid to your old woman games, and it’s almost as if he heard it. He looks at his watch, then up at you.

“Hmm, we should be back in Quantico in 17 minutes. Taking to account the wind speed, maybe even 16,” he says. He crinkles his nose and returns to the last pages of his book. You scribble in the final word of your crossword puzzle and begin to pack up. You slide your puzzle book into your small carry on backpack, and begin to clear off the rest of the table. You pick up yours and Emily’s empty coffee mugs and reach around Spencer’s elbows which were rested against the table to grab his. You stack the three mugs together and grab Derek’s plate. Derek was the only person you knew who would eat four pork chops at 3pm, then agree to go to dinner only two hours later. 

Spencer sees you take his mug and looks up at you. He gives you a smile and whispers a soft “thank you.” 

_____

Spencer was seated on the passenger side of your car. His eyes were following the flashing lights as you drove down the city streets in the darkness. It was 7:30pm. A little late for dinner, but it’s when the jet got back. Plus, you were hungry.

The light was hitting Spencer’s face in a way that made him look ethereal. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, alluding a hum in response. Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he looked at you. Somehow, from the repositioning of his head, the lighting somehow hit his face even better. The yellow luminescence shining through the windows made the honey brown of his eyes almost 3-dimensional. It felt as if he was looking inside of you. He was truly breathtaking.

“Okay,” you sigh, “please don’t hate me, but I kind of overheard you and your mom’s conversation…”

“What?”

“Well, just your side. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t… I just… I need to-”

Spencer interrupts you. It was dark, but you could tell his cheeks were red. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I just…”

“How much did you hear?”

“It was only the end. If you would’ve been talking about something personal I would’ve left but-”

“How is me opening up about my feelings for someone not personal?” He seemed a little angry.

“No, it is, and I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have, y/n.”

“Spencer, I…” You looked at the man in the seat beside you. You didn’t want this conversation to upset him. You really wished you hadn’t spoken. You could see the betrayal in his eyes. You felt truly awful.

“You what?” He broke the silence, eyes meeting yours. He stared at you intently. 

You took a moment, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t want to break his trust even more. “Spencer, I like you too.”

His eyes were blown huge. “Huh?” “I like you too. I’ve liked you since I first started working here. I didn’t want to try anything because I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you even date because I know some people with this job don’t. And-”

You were rambling. You were trying your best to defend yourself. Spencer’s eyes were searching your face. He was profiling you. You were telling the truth.

“I, wow. I didn’t know you felt that way, y/n…”

You reached for his hand. It was cold and shaky. You ran your thumb over the back of it, letting it raise and drop with the veins it crossed. He began shaking even more, so you let go. He snaps his hand to his thigh, and with his other hand, traces the tracks you’d left. He smiles to himself and lets out a large sigh. 

_____

“You guys have a good night,” Rossi says as he climbs into his luxury sedan. The team had just finished a large dinner and were beginning to head their separate ways. 

“Don’t worry, Papa Dave, I’ll get the kid home safe,” Derek says, giving Spencer a playful noogie. 

Spencer agreed to a ride home from Derek at dinner. Maybe it was because their houses were only a few streets away from each others’, or maybe, he still felt a little awkward from your previous conversation with him. You didn’t mind all that much though, after all, you’d finally openly expressed your feelings for him. That was enough for one night.

Rossi carefully backs out of the parking lot, leaving you, Spencer, and Derek still remaining. You stuff your hands in your coat pocket; it’s chilly. You want this night to last forever, yet simultaneously, you hoped it’d end right now. You tilted your head toward your car. Spencer understood.

“Derek,” he says, “are you about ready?”

“Yeah, we can head out whenever you want.”

Spencer ran his hand through his hair before turning around to look at you. He gave you a smile. “I’ll see you Monday, y/n.”

“Bye, Spence,” you say, returning the smile.

_____

“Hey, Derek,” Spencer says as he rubs his fingers over his knuckles. 

“What’s up, kid?” Derek responds. He looks over to meet eyes with him quickly.

“Can I, um… can I ask you a question?” Spencer looks at Derek like a lost puppy.

“Woah, the boy genius asking me a question? What has this world come to?”

“It’s about girls.”

“Oh. I see.” Derek knew of Spencer’s trouble with girls. Despite the darkness, he could see the light in the skinny man’s eyes. “Come at me, big guy.” He gave Spencer a pat on the back.

“How do I like… ask one on a date?”

“Oooh, who’s the special lady? Hmmm?”

“Derek, I’m being serious. Please.” 

Derek could hear Spencer’s plea in his voice. He understood that Spencer was confiding something foreign to him and truly needed the help of an experienced man.

“Well, what does she like? Don’t take her somewhere too extravagant. Maybe a nice dinner or a breakfast date. Start simple and see how it goes.”

“Okay, but like, how?”

“Step one is speaking to her.”

“I have spoken to her… a lot.”

“The main thing, kid, is just to sound confident. Even if you’re not.”

“But what if she says no? Like how do I turn away from that?”

“There’s no reason for her to say no.”

“Yeah, but like… what if she does? What if she thinks I’m weird? Maybe this is a bad idea…” 

Spencer was spiraling. Derek reaches over and puts his arm on Spencer’s shoulder. He turns to him, meeting his eyes.

“Even guys like you are capable of love, kid. Any girl would be lucky to have such a kind and caring man like you, okay? Just go with your gut.”

Derek rounded the turn to Spencer’s road. 

“Thank you, Derek, really. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Have a good night, lover boy.”

“You too, Derek.”

_____

next chapter: F is for First Date

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

_____ BUY ME A COFFEE _____

a/n: i've spent the most time on this out of any post i have in a while. kinda hit writer's block pretty bad the other day. i'm really hoping i can get the next part out by sunday, but i work all day tomorrow and idk how much time i'll have time to work on it saturday, but i'm trying my best, i promise.

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

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[moosha-mushroom]

Media I imagine different fiction podcasts in instead of the media of being a podcast.

TMA: A selection of volumes, relating to the fears, each with those removable covers. Those covers has a victim or two, and then underneath the cover is a really detailed cover. The paper is decoratively ripped, with a kind of scraggly font, and each has a foreword and ‘author’s note’ from Jonathan Sims.

Malevolent: A really gritty graphic novel with deadly detail in each panel, and very little color. Maybe a trinket on each important character has a color? Like Arthur’s eyes being yellow or Oscar’s collar having a blue sheen to it. The novels are long, dramatic, and intimate in a visceral way.

Welcome to Night Vale: Local 58 bullshit. A broadcast on television with low quality images and audio, tacky music, and a kind of 80’s aesthetic. Each episode the words WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE zoom onto the screen, the purple eye behind them. And each weather segment is an animated short by a different artist.

The Penumbra(Juno Steel): A webcomic. Hours spent scrolling downward a comic that has so much color and GEOMETRIC design. Juno and his curvy jaw, brown pie slice eyes, a cartoonishly high collar for his investigator jacket. Nureyev and his sharp square jaw, shimmering jewelry, and stick legs. Characters sticking out of the panels, fonts changing constantly, a little blue Juno that does his narration and *guitar theme plays* each time he appears.

Wolf 359: A classic comic. Issues month by month. Different special covers of the characters in extra dramatic poses or scenes. Even MORE panel breaking than Juno Steel. So MUCH onomatopoeia, even for small things like the clink of a panel or the disapproving hiss of Hilbert in the background. Geometric designs like Juno Steel, but less colorful. Like the superhero art style mixed with a more stylized look.

Midnight Burger: You pull up the Midnight Burger website. They have a hidden page that has a sort of script-comic thing going on, where the art is next to the writing. Small coded in notes from Leif sometimes pop up if you hold your arrow over the art. Links are attached to the parts where Effie and Zebulon play music, linking you to the music so you can listen to it while you read.

Desert Skies: An animated show. Indie, something you’d find on YouTube. The animation is bouncy and incorporates 3D animation alongside the 2D. Maybe the Sphere Movers have 3D models and the staff don’t? The credits are short because it was made by one guy. People are complaining about it on Twitter /j. People are making content farms about it. Everyone is pissed at Corson like they’re pissed at Jax.

The Amelia Project: A sort of simulation video game. You play as Arthur. You listen to their stories and draw pieces of the tale to invent their death. Every once in a while the game transitions to a point and click suspense game where you solve puzzles as Cole and Haines. Maybe there should even be an Operation-esque part of it where you work as Kozlowski.

Ghost Wax: A novel with a lot of pictures spliced in it. The stories are all in a single book, though the book is through Luca’s perspective— so he picks up on the ghost’s body language and Voncid’s reactions. The pictures are tarot cards with each victim as a card. Some are repeat cards— Lorem does not have a card at the end of the story. Nor does Our Home or Evening at the Ardent. The pictures are only white with black line art. No color whatsoever.

Kakos Industries: A company newsletter. Not a broadcast. A newspaper that arrives at your door and has big bold letters with the main story and pictures of the events that happen in the story as it goes. And the Sunday Comic page is full of employee shenanigans. Some innocent… some not.

I am losing my mind.

[ild-rllrcstr]

Remembrance of you part 2

Lando Norris X You / 3.9K / Slow burn

part 1 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 (coming soon)

Summary In this life, he’s a driver and you’re a girl trying not to fall for him, not again. You were supposed to be invisible, a cousin hidden under Ferrari red, tucked safely behind Charles Leclerc’s shadow. But fate never forgets its favourites. Once, in a life long buried by time, you stood on the edge of ruin, torn apart by duty, silence, and a falling legacy. Centuries later, under Monaco's golden sun and the scream of engines, your souls meet again, unaware of the story echoing in their bones. You dream of a forgotten crest, the piercing ache of sadness. He feels it in flashes, a phrase, the way your eyes hold storms and memories. As old symbols surface and the past claws its way into the present, an erased history, and love, quiet, steady, terrifying, beg for a second chance. If fate brings you together over and over, maybe this time, you’ll be brave enough not to run.

Warning To read the chapter without the former ones will be quite confusing. A/N Over the moon for Lando's home race win! Although I was hoping for a Lewis podium, but we got Nico's first win, so it was still a super lovely GP result. Anyway, here's the second part, hope you'll like it!!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

The road twisted through the hills, and sunlight dappled through the trees. You hadn’t been back here in years. The old family home, more estate than cottage, sat just past a vineyard slope, nestled into the hillside like it had grown there. The house hadn’t changed. Same faded green shutters. Same groaning iron gate. It smelled of thyme and old books when you pushed open the front door. You paused, inhaling the scent of your childhood. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that echoed your own thoughts.

You left your bag by the door, slipping off your shoes out of habit, and made your way up the creaking stairs to the study. The one Charles had mentioned. You remembered the days when you and the cousins ran down the stairs chasing each other, and your grandma yelled for you guys to be careful.

Dust motes swirled in the golden afternoon light that streamed through the skylight. Everything was just as you remembered: the dark wood shelves, the boxes stacked against the wall, the desk that smelled faintly of lavender oil and varnish. You traced your fingers along the edge of a stack of old books. A strange ache settled in your chest. This room had always felt like it remembered more than you did.

You began digging.

Box after box, filled with old photographs, receipts from the 1940s, yellowed invitation cards from long-passed soirées of the 20s. Some cute photos of your childhood with the Leclercs, of the times you spent in the countryside. Nothing unusual. Nothing like the crest in your dream.

Then, halfway down a box marked "à trier" (to be sorted), your fingers brushed against leather.

It was a journal bundle. Small. Bound in cracked brown hide, tied with twine. It was someone’s notebook that your grandmother got randomly from the flea market. She always said there are so many rich stories hidden in these abandoned notebooks and papers. You untied it slowly, something stirring under your skin like static.

The pages were filled with old French. Notes about lineage, marriage alliances, bits of family lore. Then you turned the page.

There it was. It was stamp-like, a crest: a star above a stone tower, flanked by two horses.

You stared at it. Exactly as it had appeared in your dream. You pressed your fingers to the page, breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t just imagination. This was real.

Underneath it, in fading script:

"Blason de la lignée oubliée, branche disparue après l'exil."

 (Crest of the forgotten line, branch lost after the exile.)

You sat back on your heels, head spinning.

Why would you dream of this? And why did it feel like something deep inside you already knew?

You flipped to other pages, and nothing related to the crest was further documented. You took the notebook with you. You thought you might’ve found the answer to your question, but it seems that you’ve only got more questions in your mind.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

The sun had begun to dip when you drove back down from the hills, the light colder now. The notebook sat beside you in the passenger seat, wrapped in a scarf like something fragile. Precious. Dangerous, even. You glanced at it at every red light, like it might shift or breathe.

By the time you reached back to the city, the sea glinted like silver glass and the buildings of Monaco rose into view. Charles had texted you three times already.

‘Alors ? T’as trouvé quelque chose ?’

(So you found something?)

You parked near the harbour but didn’t reply.

Instead, you took a detour. The long walk along the coast. Past the old stone ramparts, the little chapel you and Charles used to sneak into during holidays. Your mind wasn’t really in the present. The weight of the journal in your tote bag felt heavier than its size allowed.

The crest was real. The dream wasn’t just stress or subconscious noise.

You arrived at Charles’s apartment just before dinner. Alex opened the door, and gave you a warm hug like always. “Charles dit que t’as pas répondu, il s’inquiète.”

(Charles said you didn’t reply. He’s worried.)

You didn’t say anything. Just held out the notebook.

Charles raised a brow and took it carefully. He didn’t open it yet.

“C’est celui de Mamie ?”

(Is it grandma’s?)

You shook your head. “Je pense pas. Je crois qu’elle l’a trouvé dans une brocante.”

(I don’t think so. I think she found it at a flea market.)

He opened it, flipping carefully through the aged pages. His eyes scanned quickly until they caught on the crest. You saw his face change, the same way yours had.

“C’est ça que t’as vu dans ton rêve?”

(This is what you saw in your dream?)

You nodded. “Exactement ça.” (Exactly this.)

He exhaled long. Sat down on the edge of the sofa, brows drawn close. “C’est dingue…” (That’s insane…)

You sat beside him, silent for a long while. The quiet hummed between you again, like the one in the house. Not uncomfortable. Just… full.

Then Alex said it, softly, like it might be too much to say out loud,

“Et si c’était un souvenir?”

(What if it was a memory?)

You looked at her, surprised.

“A dream?” you asked, half-laughing, but your voice cracked slightly.

She looked up at you, teasing. 

“Non, pas un rêve. Un souvenir. Mais d’avant. On ne sait jamais, t’étais peut-être une princesse. ”

(Not a dream. A memory. But from before. We never know, maybe you were a princess.)

All three of you laughed, but deep down, you still wondered the reason you dreamt of this. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Montreal, Canada, you decided to quit hiding in Ferrari hospitality most of the time. You and Lando had met already. He knew you were going to be around anyway. It just became useless to hide around like a ninja, making your work harder. Ninja. That’s what Lando used to call you. You just hated the fact that memories that you didn’t want to remember kept coming back.

Three years ago, Woking, just before departing for Canada.

The factory was quiet, humming only with the low beat of servers and the distant clatter of a late‑shift mechanic. You hugged a stack of media briefs to your chest and took a long way back toward reception, anything to avoid the drivers’ lounge where Lando usually held court.

Of course, he was in the hallway anyway, half‑lounging against a doorframe, race suit peeled down to his waist. The corridor’s fluorescent lights caught the flecks of copper in his hair. When he saw you, the familiar grin slid into place.

“Hey, PR ninja,” he called, voice low so it wouldn’t echo. “Got a second?”

You kept walking but slowed. “Ten minutes, tops. I’m on deadline.”

He fell into step beside you. “You’re always on deadline.”

“That’s how deadlines work,” you muttered, tightening your grip on the folders.

Normally, he’d tease, drop a quip about grabbing coffee, and mention a party you’d never attend. Tonight, he just walked, eyes forward, like the world was suddenly heavier.

You reached the glass mezzanine overlooking the darkened sim room. Below, LEDs still traced the outline of the rig. He stopped, palms resting on the railing.

“You ever feel like...” He broke off, searching for the right words. “Like we’ve been here before? Not déjà vu in a cheap way. Deeper.”

You glanced at him. “You mean because we’ve literally been here before? I run this route every day.”

He shook his head. “Not that. It’s…” He drummed his fingers on the rail, frustrated. “The first time you crashed the sim”, a small smile crept up his face, “I felt like I knew exactly where you’d spin, like I’d watched it a hundred times. And then you looked over your shoulder to laugh at me, and I knew that, too, the angle of your smile, the way you tucked your chin.”

You shifted your weight. “Maybe you’re just observant.”

He turned, leaning his hip against the railing, expression more intent than you’d ever seen during his endless post‑race selfies. “I’m observant with track positions and tyre deg. Not people. Not like this.” His voice dropped. “Some part of me already knows you, and it’s driving me mad trying to remember how.”

Heat crept up your neck. You forced a light tone. “Maybe you’ve recycled that line before.”

“Would it work if I had?” he asked, but the joke landed flat. He looked too earnest.

You dropped your gaze to the factory floor. “Lando, I’ve seen your phone light up. I know the stories. I’m the intern who had to pick up the gossip before the team could scrub it.”

For once, he didn’t smirk. “Those stories aren’t this.” He tapped the rail between you. 

“When I’m out there, everything’s noise, fast, easy, forgettable. But when I’m talking to you, it’s...” He exhaled, like finding the word hurt. “Steady. Like the world’s been out of alignment and snaps straight for a second. I used to hate that, but I really like it whenever I have it with you.”

Your heartbeat pulsed in your ears. It would be so easy to lean in, to believe him. But you pictured the nights, him leaving the canteen with a group of hospitality guests, laughter trailing like confetti.

You straightened the stack of briefs. “You should get some sleep. We’re leaving for Canada tomorrow.”

He stepped back, hands raised in surrender, but his eyes held yours. “I know my reputation. I know you’re right to be cautious. I just needed you to hear it from me first, before the noise.”

Something in his voice, low and scraped with sincerity, dug past your practised defences. You found yourself nodding, small, involuntary. “Okay. I’ve heard you.”

He smiled, smaller, more real. “Good.” Then, softer, “Do you feel it too? Even a little?”

You opened your mouth, but the words tangled. Finally, you whispered, “Yes.” You saw his eye lit up with hope, it hurts you to pour water on that little spark, but you had to before it turned into a flame. “That’s why it’s dangerous.”

His shoulders dropped in a quiet understanding. “Then we take it slow. No parties, no headlines. Just...” He gestured around, a dark corridor, humming servers, “Whatever this is.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and rolled your head to shake it out of the emotions. “Ten minutes are up,” you said, voice steadier now. “Walk me to reception?”

He offered his elbow, goofy, gentlemanly. “As long as you promise not to ninja-sprint away at the lobby doors.”

“No promises,” you whispered and smiled, but you slipped your hand through the crook of his arm anyway, the folders pressed between you like a paper shield that suddenly didn’t feel quite so necessary.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Lando’s eyes drifted across the engineers crisscrossing through the paddock, heads down, radios buzzing, the usual noise of a race weekend closing in. But even through the blur of motion, somehow, without even trying, he found you.

You were walking with Alex, arms linked, laughing at something light between you, the kind of laugh that tilts your head back just slightly. A moment that looked ordinary. Felt soft. Safe.

But for him, it wasn’t ordinary at all.

Another flicker. A ripple through time. A déjà vu so strong that it almost made him lose his footing.

He’d been having them more and more since Monaco, since he saw you again for the first time in three years, standing next to Lewis at that pop-up event, no longer in organe, and a little out of place among the hype. You hadn’t changed much, but something about you was quieter now. Guarded. Like you knew more than you let on. Like you’d been building a life out of your own silence.

But the feeling hit him before he even said hello.

A garden. Music drifting in the air. The scent of flowers. You, not in a crowd, but among. Eyes scanning the ballroom like a soldier disguised in silk. He could see it, clear as memory. But it wasn’t a memory. He did think maybe he needed to reduce his Netflix binge-watch time, but that just wasn’t it.

He’d started having these visions three years ago, it was always rather blurry, senseless, until that day in the simulation room, you appeared in them. Or triggered them. You were the constant. 

And yet, you weren’t the kind of girl he usually noticed. Or chased. You were harder to read, quieter, and composed in a way that didn’t ask for attention, but held it anyway.

And still, every time he was around you, something inside him settled. Slowed. The noise faded, and the sharp edges of the day dulled. Even when everything else poured in at him, strategy, pressure, press, your presence was like… peace.

The only part of him that didn’t calm down was his heart.

That was the paradox. Usually, the faster things moved, the calmer he got. Like in the car, adrenaline spikes, but his heartbeat is steady. Focus like glass.

But with you, it reversed. The world stilled. And his heart? Loud. Stubborn. Alive in his chest like he remembered something the rest of him hadn’t caught up to yet.

He looked away before you could catch his gaze. But the echo remained.

Not a crush. Not curiosity. Something older. Like a story he hadn’t finished reading.

And you, somehow, felt like the missing page.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹

Lando remembered the Montreal three years ago, he remembered that conversation, and he did what he siad. The partying reduced, he focused more on racing, more padel and golfing with Carlos. No more half-assed replies at 2 am. Oscar noticed. Zak asked if something was wrong. Carlos teased that he was finally getting bored. He didn’t care. He just wanted to see you more, he wanted more of that peace.

It was never about grand gestures. It was the accumulation of quieter ones. Late-night media briefs exchanged in half-lit corridors, where he’d break his protein bar in two like it was something sweeter, just for the excuse to share. Lingering hallway conversations that made you both late to meetings, but neither of you cared, not when it felt easier to talk about childhood books or bad pop lyrics than the pressure around you. Then there was that night in the sim room, where you dozed off on the couch, thinking he was still mid-run, and he just watched you breathe across the dark, glowing control screens, like the world had gone still just for a moment. Nothing dramatic ever happened, but somehow, it all felt intimate. Easy. Dangerous in how natural it was.

And there were also the big moments for him. He was always looking for you after a race, wanting to show you whenever he had a trophy. 

And when he crashed in races, he needed you there. 

Austria, the rain was pouring hours after the race. After the media, he needed air. He had crashed out, an error so small, so human, but it burned like failure. He should’ve been on the podium. He should’ve taken another step toward Max. Instead, the weight of the setback clawed at his ribs, pure frustration.

The garage was too much noise, people, metal packings, even the most calming motor humming for him was annoying. He just needed to be out. He found a spot behind the hospitality, a small corner where there was no one, just sitting there, with his cap and hoodie, in the rain. His mom will probably scold him for being in the rain like that, especially after the race, but he couldn’t care less. He needed the rain shower, he needed the white noise that came with.

But everyone else on the paddock was looking for him. Not that he could really care at the moment. He didn’t even flinch when the rain stopped hitting him.

“You’re in my spot, you know.” Your voice.

He looked up slowly. You were standing there, holding an umbrella over both of you.

“Well,” he muttered, trying not to sound too bitter, “I’m pretty sure I got here first, so technically… this is currently my spot.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t fight. Just shifted the umbrella so more of him was covered.

“Then I guess I’ll have to be generous and share it with you.”

And just like that, the ache in his chest softened. Not gone. But quieter. Like maybe, for a second, the world was trying to realign itself again.

You didn’t sit. You didn’t speak right away. Just stood there beside him, umbrella steady in one hand, the other tucked into your coat. Rainwater beaded on your sleeves. Silence settled between you, not empty, but full of everything left unsaid.

Lando stared at the puddles for a while. The faint reflection of the paddock lights shimmered like ghosts. He didn’t know why this crash hurt more than others. Maybe it was because he was finally close to something, not just on track but everywhere else, and he’d messed it up. Again.

“You don’t have to stand here,” he said eventually, voice rough. “I’ll get back in a little.”

“I know,” you said. “But I want to." 

The honesty in your voice cracked something in him.

“And like I said, it’s my spot.”

He finally smiled a bit and turned toward you slowly. Your eyes found his, steady, open. Like you saw right through the calm he’d been pretending to wear. He swallowed hard.

“I tried,” he said, suddenly, his voice low and unfiltered. “I tried to be better. I stopped all the stupid things. I wanted to show you that I meant what I said back in Canada. But maybe I was already too late.”

“You weren’t,” you said, too fast. And then softer, almost a whisper: “You weren’t. I’ve noticed.”

Rain dripped from the edge of the umbrella. His breath hitched. “Then why does it feel like you’re still miles away from me?”

You blinked, and for a moment, he thought you’d look away. But you didn’t. You stepped forward instead, close enough that he could feel the warmth of your coat brush his knee.

“Because… it scares me,” you said, quietly. “Because it’s you, and, when it’s you… It feels weirdly real and familiar. And when it feels like that, something tells me that it’s going to break, and I need to get away from it, but then, I don’t want to.”

He exhaled, and it came out shaky. “Maybe some things are supposed to break a little. So they can fit better when you put them back. And if you really don’t want to, maybe you shouldn’t”

He stood then, slow and unsure, until you were eye to eye. Your hand didn’t drop the umbrella, but the space between you seemed impossibly narrow now.

“You’re soaked,” you murmured.

“So are you.”

And then neither of you moved until he did.

His fingers brushed your cheek, tentative, like asking for permission without words. You didn’t pull away. Your eyes fluttered shut.

The kiss was nothing like he imagined it would be. It wasn’t fireworks or chaos. It was quiet, deep. A crack in the dam. The kind of kiss that feels like truth. Like relief. Like an answer to every unspoken question between you.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead leaned against yours. He could still feel the rain on his neck, but all he noticed was your breath, soft against his lips. He thought it was the rain, but a drop of tears slipped from his cheeks. He felt a sore of sadness. 

“This doesn’t fix everything,” you said gently.

“I know,” he replied. “But it’s a start.”

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, maybe years, the ache in his chest eased just enough for him to breathe.

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The week between Austria and Silverstone passed in a strange, honey-warm blur. You’d flown back to London on separate schedules, but when Lando saw you again in the McLaren, just before the British GP weekend, it felt like nothing had broken. If anything, something had clicked into place.

Your smiles were a little softer. Your hands brushed a little more than they used to. You didn’t kiss again, not yet, but something unspoken hung between you, steady and promising.

Lando was careful with it. Careful with you. More than he thought he would.

He still cracked jokes, still elbowed Oscar and rolled his eyes at PR briefings. But he also caught himself watching you when you weren’t looking, like at the garage entrance, where you tucked your badge behind your lanyard, or when you scribbled notes too fast to keep up with the debrief. Every time he saw you, it felt easier to breathe.

Until Sunday.

Until after the race, he was walking out the back of the paddock looking for you with his trophy, a P3 at a home race. He spotted you, not alone, you were leaning against a fence at the back of the hospitality area, your spot, talking to Charles.

Talking didn’t seem like the right word. It was intense. Serious. Close.

He couldn’t hear you, but the way Charles had one hand on your arm, your head bowed slightly as you spoke, something about it twisted in Lando’s gut. He stood frozen. Just for a second. Long enough for a flicker of irrationality to bloom into something more.

He didn’t know you were family. No one did.

All he knew was that you looked bothered the next morning. Not soft. Not peaceful. Not like Austria.

And by the time the team flew back to London, he’d already convinced himself of something that wasn’t true. That maybe he’d imagined it all. That maybe you’d had your moment, and you were done with it now.

So that night, the jealousy gave in to the old version of himself, the one that didn’t overthink, didn’t sit with feelings. He showed up at a club with a few friends and more photographers. Shots, smoke machines, half-posed smiles.

By morning, the photos were online. He was tagged in every one. Arms around strangers, sunglasses on indoors, headlines with “Lando back on the party circuit after home podium.”

You saw them before you even got to your laptop.

You’d tried texting him the night before. A few times, actually. You didn’t want to do it over messages. You wanted to talk to him about Austria, about the kiss, about the way your heart wouldn’t settle around him.

But Lando never answered.

And when you saw those pictures, those girls, the way he looked like nothing ever happened between you, your stomach dropped. It didn’t matter if it was real or staged or just old habits resurfacing. It hurt.

It hurt because part of you had let hope in.

And by the time your mid-year internship evaluation arrived a couple of days later, you sat across from your manager who was proposing an extended contract for the internship, and you said what you didn’t fully believe yet.

“I really appreciate the offer, but I think it’s time I return to school. There are some things I want to figure out right now.”

You didn’t mention names. You didn’t mention kisses in the rain or racing hearts under blinking sim room lights. 

“You know, if you want to ever come back into motorsport, give me a call.” your manager unwillingly let you out of his office without the contract being signed. 

You just packed your press passes, deleted numbers and booked a one-way flight back to Monaco.

Lando didn’t know you were gone until Oscar told him. And by then, you were already in the sky.

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[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🐦‍⬛ Just One Sip: A Single Drop

A Single Drop: You get a simple paper cut and your vampire endless boyfriend freaks out.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material, Blood.

To Note: Vampire!Morpheus x AFAB!Reader

Prompt: Vampire Sex

Word Count: ~4.8k

Previous | Masterlist

The smell of aged paper and ink fills your nostrils as you walk through the towering aisles of the library. The scent mingles with the faint aroma of polished wood, creating a unique atmosphere that feels like a sanctuary. Well it is a sanctuary. You run your fingers along the spines of books, feeling the texture of leather and cloth-bound covers. Each book holds its own weight, a history bound in pages waiting to be explored.

Lucienne stands beside you, her circular glasses perched on her nose, inspecting a stack of new arrivals. "These need to go on the third shelf," she says, pointing to a section that seems miles high. Her voice is soft but carries an authority you’ve come to respect.

You nod, taking a couple of books in your arms. The leather bindings are cool against your skin as you ascend a rolling ladder. Each rung creaks under your weight, echoing through the silent library. You reach the third shelf and begin to place the books in their designated spots, feeling an odd sense of accomplishment with each one.

A distant door creaks open, and the soft murmur of Morpheus conducting business drifts into the library. The sound pulls at you, creating a distraction you can’t quite shake off. But you focus back on the task at hand.

Once the shelving is done, Lucienne hands you a stack of papers. "These need to be filed," she says without looking up from her own work. You take them to a large oak desk near a stained-glass window depicting various celestial scenes.

As you organize the paperwork, you catch sight of titles that make your heart race—requests for information on ancient rituals and spells that seem to glow with forbidden knowledge. The texture of parchment under your fingertips is rough yet inviting, promising secrets if only you dare to delve deeper.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you skim through one particularly intriguing document. The script is elegant but difficult to decipher; it’s written in a language that seems almost musical in its complexity. You trace the lines with your finger, feeling each curve and twist as if it were an intimate caress.

Lucienne's voice interrupts your reverie. "Morpheus asked for those by evening," she reminds you gently but firmly.

You nod again, hastily putting everything in order before gathering a few volumes Morpheus had requested information from. As you carry them back toward Lucienne’s desk, you can’t help but feel his presence even though he’s not physically there.

The sound of rustling pages fills your ears as Lucienne continues her own work nearby. The library's ambiance wraps around you like a comforting blanket—each sound amplified yet softened by the high ceilings and vast expanse of bookshelves.

In this realm of knowledge and secrets, every task feels like it is of the upmost importance. Certainly with Lucienne in charge. You glance at Lucienne once more; her eyes meet yours briefly before returning to her work. Often times you wondered who is really in charge, because Morpheus certainly did not rule the library.

"Oh dear," Lucienne sighs. You glance up and see her holding a stack of papers and a look of agitation on her mind. "This will take time. Y/N, would you mind taking care of these? I can finish your current work quick enough."

"Of course," you reply with a smile, rising from your seat. "What is it?"

Lucienne hands you the stack of papers, each one a different shade of aged yellow and ivory. The edges are frayed, some curling up slightly as if they’ve been read a thousand times. "These need to be filed," she says, her voice calm and steady. She’s old-fashioned that way, preferring the tangible to the digital. You take the stack from her, feeling the slight weight and the rough texture under your fingers.

You walk toward the records room, the soft sound of your footsteps on the polished wooden floor echoing in the otherwise silent library. The door creaks open as you push it gently, revealing a room filled with rows of filing cabinets that stretch up to the ceiling. The air inside is cool and carries a faint scent of must and ink.

You place the stack on a nearby table and pick up the first paper. The title is written in an elegant script: "On Dreamscapes and Their Guardians." You speak the title aloud, and with a soft whoosh, the paper lifts itself from your hand and glides toward an open drawer, slipping in perfectly.

A smile tugs at your lips as you continue this magical filing process. Each time you speak a title, you feel a small rush of satisfaction as the paper finds its place. It’s like room itself purrs. The sounds of rustling paper and soft drawer clicks fill the room as you continue filing the papers, each title a small glimpse into the world you now inhabit. As you lift another document, its title catches your eye: "The Role of Nightmares in Shaping Reality." You hesitate, curiosity gnawing at you. The script is intricate, almost mesmerizing. You read a few lines, the words painting vivid images in your mind. Nightmares aren't just frightening visions; they are tools that Morpheus uses to shape the fabric of reality itself.

Also some of your best friends…

You can’t help but delve deeper into the paper. It describes how nightmares are crafted, how each element is meticulously designed to evoke specific emotions and reactions. You imagine Morpheus, his slender fingers weaving threads of fear and dread, creating something both beautiful and terrifying.

A soft rustle brings you back to reality. Another paper floats up, awaiting its turn. You place the current document aside and pick up the next one: "The Significance of Dreams in Mortal Lives." This one feels more personal, like a window into the souls of those who dream. You read a passage that speaks about dreams being a reflection of desires, fears, and memories.

You glance at the drawer where it belongs, feeling a pang of empathy for the mortals whose lives are so deeply intertwined with their dreams. Yours certainly turned into reality. You file it away, wondering if any of your own dreams have been shaped by Morpheus’ hand.

The next document is thicker than the others. Its title reads: "Lucienne’s Chronicles: The History of Dream’s Realm." You hesitate before opening it, knowing that this might contain more than just dry historical facts. The first few pages detail Lucienne’s role as the guardian of this vast library, her dedication to preserving knowledge and wisdom.

Your heartbeat quickens as you turn the page, the paper cool and slightly rough beneath your fingertips. The script is as delicate as a spider's web, and you trace the lines with utmost care, absorbing each word, each syllable. The silence of the library is profound, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden floor or the distant hum of Lucienne's quiet mutterings as she pores over her own work.

You're so engrossed in the text that the sharp sting across your finger takes a moment to register. A line of crimson blooms along the pad of your index finger, stark against your skin. The pain is swift and sudden, a hot lance that makes you hiss in surprise. You stare at the wound, mesmerized by the way the blood wells up, thick and vibrant, before it spills over and starts to trickle down your finger. It's an oddly beautiful sight, the contrast of red against the parchment and your skin, a visceral reminder of your own mortal-like body in this realm of immortal beings.

Emphasis on mortal-like, for you are far from mortal now.

The air shifts, the temperature dropping ever so slightly and the faint scent of your favorite flowers combined with stardust fills your senses, a subtle announcement of Morpheus' arrival. Before you can even turn around, his presence embraces you, a tangible force that sends shivers down your spine and caresses your skin. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him and your breath hitches as you feel his cool lips against your ear.

"What have you done?" Morpheus' voice is a silken growl, his concern palpable in each word. His fingers draw up your arm to capture your injured hand, fingers tracing the wound with a gentleness that does little to hide the fret and anger within his voice.

"It's nothing," you protest, trying to twist in his grasp, but he holds you firm, his grip unyielding. "Just a paper cut."

"Just a paper cut," he echoes, his tone laced with disapproval. His thumb rubs small circles over the back of your hand, a soothing motion at odds with the tension radiating from his body. "And yet, you bleed."

Before you can offer further reassurances, he brings your injured finger to his lips, the heat of his breath a stark contrast to the coolness of his skin. Twisting your head to look up at him, his eyes never leave yours and hold you captive as his mouth closes over the tip of your finger.

The sensation is electric, a jolt that travels up your arm and straight to your belly. His tongue flicks against the cut, lapping up the blood with slow strokes. It's an intimate act, one that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, the pain of the paper cut forgotten in the face of Morpheus' attentions.

His lips are soft, the suction gentle yet insistent, and you can't help but moan as he continues to taste you. Each pull sends a ripple of desire through your body, igniting a fire that only he can quench.

As Morpheus pulls away from your finger, the soft pop of suction breaking is almost obscene in the quiet library. His erection presses against the small of your back, a rigid length that makes your own body ache and tremble in need. There's a primal part of you that revels in the knowledge that you've aroused him so completely with something as mundane as a paper cut.

He leans down, his breath a cool whisper against the side of your neck. The sharpness of his fangs grazes your skin, a delicate touch that sends shivers cascading down your spine. You can feel the outline of each tooth, the promise of pleasure laced with a hint of exquisite pain. Your pulse quickens under his ministrations, each beat a drumbeat against his lips. A calling to him.

Your breaths come quicker, each inhale a shuddering gasp that fills the silent room. The scent of aged paper and ink mingles with the heady aroma of your arousal and blood, creating a perfume that is uniquely yours. Addicting and ambrosial. You lean back into his embrace, your body fitting perfectly against his, as if you were made for this—for him. To him you are.

Your eyes flutter closed as his mouth moves to the curve of your shoulder, exposed by the off-the-shoulder top you're wearing. The fabric pools around your upper arms, a delicate barrier that he pushes aside with a flick of his wrist. His fangs scrape against the sensitive skin there, each pass sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.

You can hear the soft rasp of his breath, the only sound in the otherwise silent library. The rustle of your clothing is loud in your ears as he shifts closer, his hands splayed possessively across your stomach. His fingers trace small, teasing circles on your skin, each touch a brand that marks you as his.

The coolness of his skin is a stark contrast to the heat that flares beneath your skin, a testament to the desire that courses through your veins. You can feel the hardness of his erect cock throb against your lower back, a silent testament to his need for you. It throbs in time with the pulse that beats between your legs, a reminder of the pleasure that awaits you both.

His lips move lower, following the line of your collarbone with single-minded focus. You tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to his questing mouth. His fangs graze the hollow of your throat, the sensation sending a fresh wave of wetness between your thighs.

"Morpheus," you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. His name is a plea on your lips, a desperate entreaty for more—more of his touch, more of his kisses, more of him.

In response, his hands slide up to cup your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples into hard peaks through the fabric of your top. The sensation is both too much and not enough, leaving you aching for the feel of his bare skin against yours.

As he rolls your nipples between his fingers, a soft moan escapes your lips. The sound is swallowed by the vastness of the library, lost among the rows of books that bear silent witness to your growing passion. You grind back against him, seeking friction to ease the throbbing need that has taken root in your cunt.

His lips return to your ear, his voice a low growl that vibrates through you. "Do you feel what you do to me, beloved?" he murmurs, his breath a cool contrast to the heat that floods your body.

You feel the urgency in Morpheus' touch, a desperate edge that cuts through the quietude of the library. His hands, cool and sure, are quick to divest you of your clothing, the fabric no match for his strength. The sound of rending fabric fills the room, a harsh counterpoint to the soft moans that escape your lips.

His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your torso, a reverent touch that sends shivers coursing through your body. The cool air of the library brushes against your heated flesh, making you aware of just how much you want him. His palms skim over your ribcage, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, eliciting a gasp from you.

You arch into his touch, seeking more. His fingers find your nipples, rolling and pinching the sensitive buds until they're hard peaks. The sensation sends jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt, a reminder of the emptiness that aches to be filled by him.

Your moans echo off the high ceilings, a testament to the desire that courses through your veins. The sound of your arousal mingles with the rustle of your remaining clothes, a symphony of need that fills the room. Morpheus' breath hitches at the noise, a low growl rumbling in his chest—a primal sound that speaks of possession and pleasure.

His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that leaves you breathless. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting and claiming every inch. The metallic tang of your blood still lingers on his tongue, a potent reminder of the intimacy you've shared.

He grinds against you, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands roam over your exposed flesh, each touch a brand that marks you as his. With a swift motion, he spins you around to face him, his eyes ablaze with lust. He lowers his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, and you gasp as he begins to suckle, the sensation both gentle and insistent.

His fangs graze the sensitive flesh, a delicious threat that sends a fresh wave of wetness between your thighs. You whimper and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of his touch, his taste, his everything.

Morpheus obliges, his hands moving to cup your ass, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his waist, the fabric of his trousers a teasing friction against your sensitive flesh. He walks you backward until you hit the cool wooden surface of a filing cabinet, the impact causing a cascade of papers to flutter to the ground.

His mouth leaves your breasts, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. Each touch of his lips sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins. More. More. More.

You feel the cool brush of his fingers against your inner thighs as he hooks them under your knees, spreading you wide for his gaze. The hunger in his eyes as he takes in the sight of your wet, trembling cunt is almost enough to send you over the edge.

His breath is unusually cool against your slick folds, a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from your throbbing cunt. You can feel the anticipation building inside you, a tight coil of desire that threatens to snap at any moment. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, holding you in place as he lowers his mouth to your cunt.

The first swipe of his tongue is a revelation, a jolt of pleasure that shoots straight through your cunt. His tongue is both cool and agile, tracing the contours of your cunt with an expertise that speaks of centuries spent learning the intricacies of pleasure. And rigorous hours of practice to find what makes you writhe and scream the most. Each lap of his tongue sends a shiver of delight coursing through your veins, a symphony of sensation that leaves you gasping for breath.

Your legs tremble and shake against his mouth, the muscles quivering with the effort of holding yourself up. The sound of your ragged breathing fills the room, a testament to the pleasure that Morpheus is wringing from your body. His fangs graze your sensitive flesh, a delicate touch that sends a thrill of danger racing down your spine.

As he sucks your clit into his mouth, a low moan escapes your lips, the sound echoing off the high ceilings of the library. The sensation of his lips and tongue working in concert to bring you pleasure is almost too much to bear. Your fingers tangle in his raven hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his face, chasing the release that you know he can give you.

Your orgasm builds with each passing moment, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm your senses. And then, with a final flick of his tongue, Morpheus sends you crashing over the edge. Your body convulses, your cunt pulsating around nothing as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

But he doesn't stop there. As the aftershocks of your climax ripple through your body, Morpheus strikes, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of your thigh. The sharp sting of pain mingles with the lingering pleasure of your orgasm, a combination that sends you spiraling into a second, more intense climax.

The sound of your own cries of ecstasy fills the room, a wild symphony that accompanies the rhythmic pulsing of your second orgasm. Your muscles clench and release, each wave of pleasure intensified by the steady pull of his mouth against your thigh.

The wet sounds of him drinking from you mingle with the slick noises of your arousal, creating a lascivious melody that echoes off the filing room’s high ceilings. Your body trembles, the sensitivity from your climax heightening every sensation. Your whimpers grow louder, a desperate melody to the intimate communion between you and Morpheus.

His fingers grip your ass cheeks tighter, pinning you against the wooden cabinet as he feeds. The coolness of his skin is a stark contrast to the heat of your flushed body, the dichotomy between his otherworldly nature and your mortal frame a potent aphrodisiac. Your heart pounds in your chest, the rhythmic thudding a primal drumbeat that underscores the intensity of the moment.

His tongue laps at the wound on your thigh, soothing the sting while fanning the flames of arousal flickering in your veins. The sensation of his cool breath against your heated skin sends shivers racing down your spine, prolonging the exquisite torment of your orgasm.

As he finally pulls away, the soft, wet sound of his mouth leaving your skin is obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room. You watch, entranced, as he licks his lips, savoring the last traces of your blood. His eyes, those distant stars, hold a depth of desire that takes your breath away.

Lifted by Morpheus' powerful arms, you find yourself perched on the edge of the filing cabinet, the cool wood a stark contrast against your heated skin. As he steps between your legs, you feel the head of his cock, slick with pre-come and engorged to an almost inhuman size by your blood, nudge against your entrance. You can't help but whimper, your body trembling with anticipation and residual pleasure from your climax.

The sound of your whimpers seems to spur him on. His free hand, the one not guiding his cock through your folds, wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel the coolness of his skin seeping into you, a welcome respite from the feverish heat that courses through your veins.

Then, with a single motion, he sinks into you, the sheer girth of his blood-enlarged cock stretching you almost to the point of pain. You cry out as he fills you, your body yielding to his relentless intrusion.

Morpheus captures your cry with his lips, kissing you with a ferocity that mirrors the intensity of his possession. Once again you can taste yourself on his tongue, mingling with the metallic tang of your blood—a potent reminder of the intimacies you've shared and the ones that are still to come. Eternally.

His thrusts are deliberate, each one an exquisite torture as he moves within you, his cock sliding against sensitive tissues that are still throbbing from your climax. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, your heels digging into the small of his back as you struggle to get even closer to him, to take even more of him inside you.

The wet sounds of your coupling echo off the high ceilings, a symphony of flesh on flesh, punctuated by your moans and the low, growling praises that escape Morpheus' lips between kisses.

"So beautiful," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a rumbling vibration that reverberates through your very core. "So utterly perfect."

In response, you tighten your internal muscles around his cock, earning a strangled groan from him. The hand on your waist flexes, the tips of his fingers pressing into your skin as he struggles to maintain control in the face of your slick heat and the knowledge that he is the reason for your abandon.

Your fingernails rake down his back, scoring the fabric of his shirt—a distant part of your mind marvels at the fact that he's still half-dressed, yet another reminder of the haste and intensity with which he's claimed you. The sensation of cool air rushing into the space left by his retreating body only adds to the overwhelming sensory experience, heightening the pleasure of his cock driving into you over and over again.

"Morpheus," you pant, your voice a needy plea that reverberates in the back of your throat. The sound of your own pleasure is a potent aphrodisiac, a reminder of the affect you have on him.

With Morpheus' name a whispered plea lingering on your lips, you feel the building crescendo of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away. Your body moves in rhythm with his, each stroke of his cock inside you a promise of the explosive release that awaits. You can feel your climax coiling inside you, a tight spring of sensation that's just waiting to be let loose.

Unable to hold back any longer, you drop your head back, exposing the long, elegant line of your throat in a clear invitation. Your pulse races beneath your skin, the blood thrumming through your veins a siren song that even Morpheus can't resist. You feel the cool brush of his lips against your throbbing jugular, an erotic counterpoint to the heat of his body moving against yours.

His thrusts become more insistent, a relentless rhythm that drives you higher and higher. You can hear the wet, obscene sound of your coupling, punctuated by the soft slap of his balls against your ass and the throaty moans that spill from your lips with each deep stroke. You can smell the musky scent of your arousal mingling with the faintest whiff of copper from where his fangs have drawn blood from your aching thigh. The sensory overload heightens your pleasure, drawing you ever closer to the edge.

Just as you feel the telltale flutter in your belly that heralds your orgasm, Morpheus pauses, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. You whine in frustration, your nails digging into his shoulders, urging him to continue. But then you feel it—the sharp prick of his fangs piercing your skin.

The sensation is exquisite, pain and pleasure intertwined in an intoxicating mix that sends you spiraling into oblivion. As he drinks deeply, the walls of your cunt flutter around his cock and clamp down hard. You're vaguely aware of your strained cries echoing off the filing room's ceilings as your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, overwhelming in its intensity.

Morpheus groans against your neck, the sound vibrating against your skin as he swallows your blood. The rhythmic pull of his mouth on your throat sends you into another spasm of pleasure, prolonging the ecstasy of your climax. His own release follows quickly on the heels of yours, his cock pulsating inside you as he fills you with his seed. You can feel each hot, wet spurt as he empties himself into you.

As you both come down from your highs, Morpheus withdraws his fangs from your neck, licking the remaining drops of blood from your skin. The gesture is both intimate and possessive, a silent promise that he will always take care of you

You collapse against him, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returns to normal. The two of you stay like that for a long moment, neither wanting to break the spell that has been cast over this secluded corner of the library.

The silence is punctuated only by the sounds of your mingled breaths and the rustle of fabric as you shift in his embrace. You can feel the slick evidence of your mutual pleasure trickling down your thighs, a delicious reminder of the passion you've just shared.

"Mine," Morpheus murmurs against your ear, the single word both a declaration and a vow. His voice is a low, satisfied purr that resonates with the power of the endless night. "Until the end of eternity."

With a contented sigh, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady hum of his being—a sound born from time himself. His arms tighten around you, and he nuzzles the crown of your hair.

As your breathing returns to normal, you remember the task Lucienne assigned you. Reluctantly, you lift your head from Morpheus' chest, meeting his gaze. The stars that are his eyes are soft with satisfaction, but there's a glint of mischief there, too—a clear indication that he's not quite done with you yet.

"Morpheus," you murmur, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. "Lucienne is expecting me to finish the filing."

His lips curl into a knowing smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I believe Lucienne can manage without you for a while longer," he says, his voice a low purr that sends shivers down your spine.

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can utter a single word, the world around you shifts and warps. The familiar surroundings of the library dissolve into nothingness, replaced by the opulent elegance of your private chambers.

The transition is so abrupt that you can't help but gasp, your fingers digging into the fabric of Morpheus' shirt. The room is bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, the air humming with the magic that is his domain. The walls are lined with bookshelves, the tomes they hold a testament to the countless stories that have been woven throughout the ages.

Morpheus' hands roam over your body, a possessive touch that leaves a trail of fire in its wake. "You've just become quite busy," he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The words are a promise and a threat, a declaration of his intentions.

You can feel the evidence of his persistent arousal pressing against your hip, a clear indication that the night is far from over. With a swift motion, he captures your lips in a searing kiss, a silent declaration of his desire to continue exploring the depths of your passion.

As his tongue traces the contours of your mouth, you can't help but moan, the sound swallowed by his insistent kiss. Your hands move of their own accord, tugging at the remnants of his clothing, eager to feel the coolness of his skin against your own.

With a low chuckle, Morpheus breaks the kiss, his eyes ablaze with desire. "I intend to make love to you until the stars themselves grow weary," he declares, the words a vow whispered against your lips.

A fact that you’ve come to know will never occur.

Date Published: 12/31/24

Last Edit: 12/31/24

Previous | Masterlist

[tallsc]

Save Points

So a lil ramble about how saving works here! The ability to save is directly associated with determination, and having been within the barrier at some point or another. Anyone who has enough determination and has been in the barrier can see and interact with a save point, but only the applicable person with the most determination can actually save. Right now, that's Frisk, and it used to be Flowey. When someone who isn't able to save tries to, it sorta "notifies" whoever has the most determination. It's how Clover was able to call Flowey in Yellow, but now all it does is bother Frisk -v-

Also fun fact this was originally intended to be one page but when I started scripting it out I decided it would work better as three, so decided to also color them :D

[kingstarkingslay]

a pretty long head cannon about how Sirius leaves little notes for Remus in his books ( bear with me here ) :

Sirius sneaks into Remus’ Advanced Potion-Making and scribbles “This page tastes like licorice. Lick it.” Remus, half-asleep, actually licks the book. He chases Sirius down the corridor, throwing the book at his head.

Sirius starts underlining random passages and adding commentary: “Boring. Skip this.” “Imagine Dumbledore in this hat. (You’re welcome.)” Remus pretends to be annoyed, but James catches him smiling at a particularly stupid joke about troll politics.

Sirius gets bolder. “You sighed three times reading this chapter. Tell me why over tea?” “This character reminds me of you. (It’s the tragic backstory.)” Remus starts keeping the notes, tucking them between his favorite pages like pressed flowers.

Sirius steals Remus’ copy of Wuthering Heights and underlines every angsty line, adding: "This is us. You’re Heathcliff (brooding) and I’m Cathy (dramatic)." Remus writes beneath it: "Except I wouldn’t die for you. I’d just make you tea and tell you to stop being ridiculous." Sirius underlines that too, with a heart.)

Remus opens his battered copy of Peter Pan to find, in Sirius’ messy script: “Moony—I’d never grow up if it meant staying like this with you. (Cheesy? Yes. Do I mean it? Also yes.)” He doesn’t say anything. Just hands Sirius the book later, with a single word added beneath: “Okay.” (Sirius beams so hard he trips over the sofa.)

Remus is trying to focus on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, but Sirius keeps nudging his foot under the table. Finally, Remus snaps open his textbook to find: "You’ve ignored me for 17 minutes. That’s cruel and unusual punishment, Moony. - Your Prisoner Sirius Black" Remus scribbles back: "Solitary confinement lasts another hour. Stay quiet and maybe I’ll reduce your sentence." (Sirius spends the next 45 minutes dramatically sighing and folding notes into paper airplanes.)

Sirius slips a note into a random library book Remus is holding: "Meet me in the Restricted Section in 10 minutes. Bring snacks. -Your Favorite Criminal" Remus, flustered, scribbles back: "We’re banned from the Restricted Section." Sirius’ reply, passed under the table: "That’s why it’s fun."

After a full moon, Remus wakes up to find Sirius’ handwriting in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: "You drool in your sleep. It’s disgusting. (I watched you for an hour. Worth it.)" Beneath it, in Remus’ sleepy scrawl: "You’re a creep. (But you’re warm. Stay.)"

Years later, Remus finds an old potions book in Grimmauld Place. Tucked inside is a yellowed note: "If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. (Morbid, sorry.) But just in case—you were the best part of it all. Padfoot." (He doesn’t cry. Not where anyone can see.)

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

The Supernatural Script Hunt came from humble origins, a handful of fans banding together to collect and preserve our fandom history, making as many scripts as possible accessible to fans worldwide. Since acquiring our first script over five years ago, and then branching out to involve so many fans supporting the work in the years since, it was always our intent to give it all back, and then some.

When we began this project, the fandom collectively had six scripts from five episodes and a single network outline. In the five years since we bought our first script to add to that collection, we are ending the project with a total of 163 scripts from 147 episodes, casting sides from 50+ episodes, 50+ call sheets, arenas from 18 episodes, and other related documents. A complete list of items in our collection is on the SupernaturalWiki, for a closer look, click here.

The time has come for us to offer everyone a final chance to own their very own priceless souvenir of the show and cast we all love so dearly. In doing so, we also want to honor the largest (hopefully!) legacy of our fandom: using our collective power for good. Which is why we're offering up some very special scripts (and a few other items!) in our collection in a raffle to benefit Undue Medical Debt.

Our initial goal was to raise at least $10,000 so we can erase at least one million dollars in medical debt.  We've met that goal, our stretch goal is to get to $20,000 so we can erase at least two million dollars in medical debt.

How Undue Medical Debt Works:

You make a donation. They use data analytics to pinpoint the debt of those most in need: households that earn less than 4x the federal poverty level or whose debts are 5% or more of annual income.

Undue Medical Debt buys medical debt at a steep discount. They buy debt in bundles, millions of dollars at a time at a fraction of the original cost. This means your donation relieves about 100x its value in medical debt.

Together we wipe out medical debt. People across the country receive letters that their debt has been erased. They have no tax consequences or penalties to consider. Just like that, they're free of medical debt.

For every $10 you donate to Undue Medical Debt, you will 1) be erasing about $1,000 in medical debt and 2) be able to enter our raffle to win one of the items listed below.

Our Campaign Page

Our Raffle Site

Donated by Eric Kripke:

'Pilot' - "Original pilot that got tossed out -- whole different story -- enjoy this alternative reality Sam and Dean." Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Samantha Smith.

2.22 'All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2' - Yellow Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

3.16 'No Rest for the Wicked' - Goldenrod Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

4.01 'Lazarus Rising' - Pink Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, and Misha Collins.

4.22 'Lucifer Rising' - Production Draft. "My director's copy - rare! Enjoy!" Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Rob Benedict.

5.01 'Sympathy for the Devil' - Pink Revisions. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Rob Benedict.

6.22 'The Man Who Knew Too Much' - Production Draft. Signed by Eric Kripke, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Mark Sheppard.

Donated by James Stoteraux and Chad Fiveash:

Gotham Knights - 'Pilot' - Double Yellow Revisions. Signed by Misha Collins, Oscar Morgan, Olivia Rose Keegan, Navia Robinson, Fallon Smythe, Tyler DiChiara, Anna Lore, Rahart Adams, Chad Fiveash, and James Stoteraux.

Gotham Knights - 1.13 'Night of the Owls' - Production Draft. Signed by Misha Collins, Oscar Morgan, Olivia Rose Keegan, Navia Robinson, Fallon Smythe, Tyler DiChiara, Anna Lore, Rahart Adams, Chad Fiveash, and James Stoteraux.

Donated by Natalie Abrams:

Gotham Knights - 1.11 'Daddy Issues' - signed by show creator/episode co-writer Natalie Abrams, director America Young, and Misha Collins (Harvey Dent/Two-Face). Two copies donated, two winners. Thank you @deanismybuddy (twitter) for making this happen.

Donated by Jennifer May Nickel:

Signed Gotham Knights costume sketches (8.5" x 11" prints), four winners.

1.08 Harvey Dent tux

Rebecca's 1.13 dress

Duela's 1.09 grenade costume

Carrie/Robin's super suit look

Donated by Robbie Thompson: 

The Winchesters - 1.01 'Pilot' - Final Shooting Script - signed by Robbie Thompson and Jensen Ackles.

The Winchesters - 1.13 'Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye' - signed by Robbie Thompson and Jensen Ackles.

Thank you to @SadieWit (twitter) and Gabe Garza for making this happen.

Scripts Not Donated by Creators:

3.15 'Time is on My Side' - Production Draft signed by Jim Beaver at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024; Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki at Jus in Bello 14; Steven Williams at Crossroads 8.

14.14 Ouroboros - Production Draft - donated by @_ninalynne_ (twitter).  

Gotham Knights - 'Pilot' - Pre-Production Draft signed by Misha Collins at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024.

Walker - 'Pilot Script' - signed by Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, and Richard Speight Jr. at Jus in Bello 14.

Walker: Independence - 'Pilot Script' - Revised Network Draft - signed by Jared Padalecki at Jus in Bello 14; Mark Sheppard at Crossroads 8.

The Winchesters - 'Pilot' - 4th Network Draft signed by Jensen Ackles at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024; Richard Speight Jr. and Rob Benedict at Jus in Bello 14; Jim Beaver and Alexander Calvert at Crossroads 8.

Audio/Visual:

Supernatural: The Complete Series Blu-ray - donated by @HanmeiCui (twitter)

Dick Jr. and the Volunteers' "Fistfights and Hug-Outs" CD - signed by Richard Speight Jr. at Jus in Bello 14, donated by @Julie_Fleming and @EmilieDK87 (twitter)

Rob Benedict "Leave The Light On" CD - signed by Rob Benedict at Jus in Bello 14, donated by @merenwen76AO3 (twitter).

"Saturday Night Special" CD - signed by Louden Swain at Creation Tour: New Jersey 2024.

Autographed Photos and Posters:

Crossroads 8 "Supernatural" cast poster (A3 size) signed by Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Julian Richings, Alexander Calvert, Jim Beaver, Rob Benedict, Steven Williams, Corin Nemic, Todd Stashwick, and Cindy Sampson. Donated by @AilesduSoleil (twitter).

Crossroads 8 "The Boys" cast poster (A3) signed by Tomer Capone and Karen Fukuhara.

Autographed photos from Crossroads 8 donated by @AilesduSoleil, @Julie_Fleming, @PurpleNurpleSPN (twitter):

Rob Benedict, Alexander Calvert, Tomer Capone, Misha Collins, Karen Fukuhara, Corin Nemec, Cindy Sampson (multiple winners)

Books:

Hardcover edition of Good Omens - signed by Neil Gaiman and Mark Sheppard. Thank you to the staff at The Golden Notebook in Woodstock, NY for being extremely helpful and kind.

Hardcover edition of Death (2022) - written by Neil Gaiman, art by Mike Dringenberg, John Totleben, Mark Buckingham, and Chris Bachalo. Signed by Lisa Berry.

Family Don't End with Blood - signed by Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, and Jim Beaver, donated by @FangasmSPN (twitter).

There'll Be Peace When You are Done - signed by Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Alexander Calvert, and Sebastian Roche, donated by @FangasmSPN (twitter).

Supernatural 15 Seasons: The Crew Member's Souvenir - two copies, two winners. Donated by @HanmeiCui (twitter) and [anon].

Fan Arts and Crafts:

"To Be Continued" t-shirt made and donated by @shitannamakes (twitter), signed by Jensen Ackles at Creation Tour: Burbank 2024. 

The Winchesters canvas print (16 x 22.7 in) designed by BobbysIdjit (tumblr, Redbubble) and signed by Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, and Richard Speight Jr. Donated by Denim-wrapped Nightmares, a Supernatural Podcast.

Curse boxes made and donated by @TheGreenCooler (twitter):

6" x 4" x 4" - red and white

8.5" x 6" x 5" - brown and black

Supernatural and AKF themed decorative pillar candles made and donated by @TheGreenCooler (twitter): 

4x3 inch short decorative pillar candles set: "Sam and Dean initials"

5x3 inch decorative candle: #AlwaysKeepFighting "Good morning Starshine. You're still here today."

5x3 inch decorative candle: #AlwaysKeepFighting "Hopeful Daisy"

5x3 inch decorative candle: "Men of Letters"

5x3 inch decorative candle: "Carry On Wayward Son"

5x3 inch decorative candle: "We Are Home"

6 x 4 decorative candle: "Impala on a Hunt" (pic 1) (pic 2) (pic 3) 

Rare Actor-Specific Items

AFK pin designed by Phil Sgriccia in 2015 for Jared Padalecki, "only Jared had these pins unless he gave them to you" - donated by @slammtam (twitter)

Jared Padalecki autograph at Creation Austin, donated by @KLFSPNcons off her Gold badge (Row I).

Raffle closes on Sunday, June 30 at 11:59pm (EST). Winners will be drawn by a random number generator, we will submit the names to Undue Medical Debt's development staff to confirm the donations match the caps submitted to us on the Google Form, and we'll contact winners by Saturday, July 6 2024. Winners will have 72 hours to respond, and will be required to provide their physical mailing address and to cover the cost of shipping (for scripts it's currently $9.85 for priority mail insured inside the US, international rates and non-script rates to be determined as necessary). 

PLEASE NOTE: IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE AND WISH TO DONATE, PLEASE ENSURE YOU HAVE PRIOR AUTHORIZATION FROM CREDIT/ACCOUNT HOLDER.

As Castiel once told a patron of the Gas N Sip buying a lottery ticket, good luck!

Thank you to our con helpers, we never could have pulled this off without your help: abeautifulswan, AilesduSoleil, deanismybuddy, EmilieDK87, FangasmSPN, HanmeiCui, jennysun23, Julie_Fleming, KLFSPNcons, kreespa, kaurie_mac, marywinchstr, merenwen76AO3, MiaAW90, MysterioAmber, PurpleNurpleSPN, RMelton76, rowwyaboat, SDeeg13, shandataber, SuperWiki, zerbehunter

[filthygalli]

A Neighbor’s Forbidden Lust

Chapter 1: Unexpected Encounters

Fem! Reader x Neighbor! Hwang In-Ho

Squid game Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual innuendo, soft and possessive In-Ho, not proofread, other than that none, let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 1267

Author’s Note: I had the idea, because summer is close so why not make something out of it! I hope you enjoy it!

Under the dappled light of the late afternoon sun, Y/n stepped out onto her new back porch, the salt-kissed breeze already becoming familiar. The beach house was a dream come true, a sanctuary away from the city's relentless hum. As she placed her coffee mug on the wooden railing, a gruff voice startled her.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?"

She turned to see her neighbor, Hwang In-Ho, standing on his deck, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His dark hair was windswept, and his tanned skin bore the lines of a man who laughed often. He was dressed casually, a simple white tee hugging his broad shoulders, and faded jeans molding to his legs. Y/n felt a warmth spread through her, an immediate attraction blossoming like a sunflower turning towards the light.

"Hello," she managed to say, smiling tentatively. "I'm Y/n. I just moved in."

In-Ho grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, wiping his palm on his thigh before extending it. "In-Ho. Welcome to the beach."

Their hands lingered, Y/n's delicate fingers enveloped in his calloused grip. She felt a spark, a connection that made her heartbeat echo in her ears. When he finally released her, she pretended to wipe her palm on her sundress, trying to hide her flushed cheeks.

In-Ho watched her, his gaze appraising yet not unkind. He seemed to see beyond her hazel eyes and freckled nose, right into the center of her. It made her feel both exposed and understood, a sensation she found unsettling and exhilarating.

"What brings you to our sleepy little town?" In-Ho asked, hoisting himself onto the railing, his biceps flexing slightly. Y/n felt her thoughts scatter, focusing only on the way his thighs strained against his jeans.

"I needed a change," she replied, Garnier ticket tumbling down her spine as she shook her hair. "The city was...too much."

In-Ho nodded, taking a swig of his beer. "I know that feeling. I used to be a city boy myself. Now, I can't imagine living anywhere else."

Y/n found herself drawn to his confident demeanor, the way he spoke with such honest desire. She imagined his hands, rough from life and love, gently tracing the curve of her hip. The thought caught her off guard, a jolt of desire coursing through her.

"Well," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "maybe I'll grow to love it here too."

In-Ho's eyes darkened, his gaze intense. He stepped closer, the heat between them palpable. Y/n's breath hitched as he reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, brushing against her cheekbone, igniting a fire within her.

"I'll make sure you do," he murmured, leaning in.

But just as their lips were about to meet, a seagull cried out overhead, the moment shattered. In-Ho stepped back, chuckling softly.

"Until later, Y/n," he said, turning away and leaving her bereft.

Under the cloak of twilight, Y/n retreated to her porch, a half-read book and a glass of wine her intended companions for the evening. The salty breeze carried whispers of laughter and distant waves, a lullaby that soothed her frayed nerves. She settled into her chair, the cushion sighing under her weight, and opened her book to the dog-eared page.

A rustling sound drew her attention to the edge of her deck. A small pile of something rested against the railing. Frowning, she set her drink aside and padded over, her bare feet soft on the weathered wood. She discovered a book, its cover battered and its pages yellowed with age. It was a classic, a tale of love and redemption that had eluded her Thus far. Tucked into the pages was a note, its script bold and masculine.

For your quiet nights, neighbor.

Below the words was a chicken scratch drawing of a house with an added chimney puffing out smoke. She recognized the style; it was a crude rendition of her own beach house. A smile tugged at her lips as she traced the lines. Beside it was another sketch, this one of a steaming cup of coffee. Intrigued, she picked up the small packet leaning against the book. Inside was a bag of freshly ground beans and a handwritten tag

For your early mornings.

Heat blossomed in her chest, a mix of delight and confusion. In-Ho was leaving her thoughtful gifts, each one aligned with the rhythm of her day. Yet, his actions remained communicated only through inanimate objects and drawn symbols. She couldn't help but wonder about his intentions, about him.

The next morning, as she sat on her porch, sipping the rich coffee he'd left her, she caught sight of him through the fence. He was stripped to the waist, his tanned skin glistening with sweat as he worked in his garden. Her eyes traced the planes of his back, the way his muscles bunched and flexed with every movement. A tendril of desire snaked through her, ignited by the simple act of watching him.

Days turned into a week, each one marked by surprise gifts and late-night conversations mediated by the wooden fence between their yards. In-Ho would leave eclectic books at her doorstep, each one a window into his soul - a childhood favorite, a political treatise, a poetry collection. And every evening, she'd find herself sharing her porch with him, their voices merging into the symphony of the night.

"Your gifts are thoughtful," she said one evening, her book resting on her knees, "but why the secrecy? Why not just... leave a note with your name?"

In-Ho's chuckle echoed through the fence, warm and inviting. "Because, Y/n, anticipation is half the fun. And because... I like watching you decipher my little clues."

Her heart fluttered at the thought of him watching her, of him being aware of her in ways she hadn't considered. She hugged her knees to her chest, a coy smile playing on her lips. "And what if I didn't figure them out?"

"Then I'd know you needed more coffee in the morning," he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "but you always do."

Their nights together grew longer, their conversations deeper. They delved into each other's minds, each revelation drawing them closer. Yet, there remained an unspoken tension, a charge in the air that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

One night, as they talked about their shared love for vintage films, Y/n found herself leaning closer to the fence, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wish... I wish I could see your face when you talk about these things."

A moment of silence before In-Ho admitted, "I wish that too, Y/n. More than you know."

She closed her eyes, imagining him on the other side of the fence, his gaze intense, his voice rough with emotion. The same longing drew them together, a thread that couldn't be denied. And in that moment, she made her decision.

"I'm going to open the gate," she declared, pushing away from her chair. "And we're going to talk face to face."

She heard him rise, his chair scraping against the wood. "Are you sure?"

Steeling herself, she stood, her heart pounding in her ears. "Yes, In-Ho. I'm sure."

With slow, deliberate steps, Y/n crossed her porch and walked towards the gate, her hand trembling as she reached out to turn the lock. As it clicked open, she felt a intensifying of that connection, a anticipation of what was to come. The forbidden was about to become reality, and she couldn't wait.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading and supporting my works! I appreciate them a lot!🫶🏻🥹

(Let me know if you want to be added on my taglist for this mini series!)

| Next >

[last-starry-sky]

like - comment - subscribe

alpha!141 x omega!youtuber!reader

[MDNI - MIND THE WARNINGS - NSFW: 2.9k, omegaverse, poly/pack!141, mentions of stress: lack of sleep/eating, probably a lot of work from home inaccuracies, edging/masturbation, brief ghost/soap, NONCON: discussion of possible kidnapping/murder]

⏮️replay - play - next⏭️

❤️ subscribers ❤️: @angel-bugz, @ceza-141, @lynnieluvsu, @kenmaspuddinghair, @z-wantstowrite, @bmtillerbabe (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

trailer

You spun back and forth in your chair, your leg catching on either side of your desk as you stared at your computer screen. You had sat there, blankly staring at the YouTube Creator page for so long that it might just be burned into your LCD screen by now.

You kicked yourself left. Thunk. You kicked yourself right. Thunk.

Despite the calm, bossanova jazz playing through your headphones, you were a ball of stress. The blank thumbnail at the top of your channel had haunted you since the day you created your account. “Upload a video for viewers to learn more about you before they subscribe!” the cheery message informed you ever so helpfully.

Left. Thunk. Right. Thunk. You chewed on the end of your nail as you continued to sway back and forth, decision still unmade and your lunch break ticking ever-so quickly to an end.

You knew you should do it. There were a lot of very good, factual reasons. It would help you grow your channel. The analytics tab didn’t lie, after all. The problem was, you didn’t like it.

You knew how this platform worked. You’d had your personal account since you were old enough to sign up for one. You knew the annoyance of clicking on someone’s page to show a video to a friend, only to have to fumble with your phone or tablet to stop the autoplaying video with it’s stupid music, or worse: cringey screaming over a video game.

Your leg whacked hard against the right side of your desk, this time making you wince with pain. You hissed, rubbing the sore spot and silently cursing yourself for the nasty bruise you’d have tomorrow. You’d been bruising a lot easier lately, which concerned you. The stress of working basically two jobs, not eating right, skipping sleep and meals to edit into the wee hours of the morning, it had your hormones in a spiral and you could feel it in the headache buzzing behind your eyes.

Instead of doing anything, you know, useful like calling your doctor or taking a day off, you huffed and pouted and pulled yourself into a ball in your office chair. You pressed your scowling face into your knees, eyes on the almost completed video upload in front of you.

Why couldn’t there be – you threw out a random number from your brain – thirty hours in a day? You stared at the condensation running down the jug of water in front of you. If you had more free time you could do more fun things, write better scripts and get better at editing. Better videos would grow your channel and you could eventually only concentrate on making videos. If only you didn’t rely on this damn, boring, day job to pay the bills.

The timer on your work laptop chimed. Your allotted thirty were minutes spent, right along with the time you’d given yourself to change your mind.

Uncurling yourself, you clicked back into the timekeeping program on the laptop, grumbling as you set yourself as once again “available”. The little yellow dot next to your name in the programs at the bottom – group chats, email, Word and Excel – all switched to green.

As far as your boss knew, you were back on the clock and doing what you were supposed to do: organizing a dump of data into neat, pretty spreadsheets and charts. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, though. You pulled up the spreadsheet you had been working on before lunch along with an email full of images of poorly scanned papers that had been hastily redacted. You rolled your eyes at it again. They really didn’t care about making your job any easier, did they? It wasn’t worth complaining about though. As long as you could pull numbers and dates from the grainy images with any hint of confidence, you kept your mouth shut. This was an easy job that paid well, with the bonus that you didn’t have to leave the house. Those three things alone made it more than easy to swallow your remaining shred of pride and be a good little omega, one that kept her nose down and diligently submitted her work.

Besides, if you could get away with also running a YouTube channel on the side during work hours, what did you care anyway? You reached over and took a long sip of the smoothie you had quickly whipped up for lunch. It was a test recipe for your next video.

An alert at the top of your monitor caught your attention. Your upload had completed.

All you had to do now was title it, and write the description, and add in all the tags, and then you could finally publish it. Oh, and then you had to take the time to actually set it as your damn trailer. You scrubbed your hands through your hair, a long sigh; something pathetic, on the edge of a whine, creaked out of your throat. Your boss gave you a long leash, figuratively, but you didn’t think you could get away with doing half of that during work hours.

A tinny ping rang out from the little speakers on the laptop. You grumbled as you swung your chair away from your desktop. A little red (1) sat in the corner of your group’s chat. You clicked on it, if only for the reasonable distraction from the work you were supposed to be doing. One of your coworkers had left a harried note along with a screenshot of a spreadsheet.

“so sorry to bother everyone on lunch, but does anyone know why my pivot table looks like this? I swear I did everything like I usually do. :(“

You sighed and started typing. Only a few more hours, you reminded yourself.

Soap couldn’t put his finger on why he felt uneasy. By all accounts, this assignment (if he could even call it that) was a dream. Watch a pretty little bird’s videos all night and take notes? Hell’s bells, that wasn’t work. It was a treat better than any he’d ever received.

His exhaustion and hunger were long forgotten. As the hours rolled by unnoticed, all he could focus on was your cute face in the thumbnail of the next video. The hardest part was sticking to his assigned videos. Gaz worked newest to oldest while Soap was oldest to newest, planning to meet roughly in the middle. Price took on the couple of livestream VODS, some of them a few hours long, that you had saved to your channel. Ghost pulled the easiest assignment, the bastard. He got the honor of watching your shorts. It was with the understanding, however, that he would help out the other three once he blew through them all.

He relaxed back against the headboard of his bed, the cool wall of stacked concrete blocks sending a chill up his spine. He was drenched, the room heady with a soup of sweat and pheromones so thick it clung to the walls, rolling down in fat drops like the roof had sprung a leak.

Yeah, he was horny, but that was a given. When your next video started, your soothing voice greeting him like he was yours, he gave in. He palmed the erection he had been ignoring for the past few hours. He couldn’t help the groan that poured out as he locked eyes with your pretty, smiling face.

“Hi guys!” you said, waving at the camera with both hands as was your custom. Your position was a bit stiff and awkward, unlike your usual casual slouch against your bed. It took him a moment, but it looked like you were sitting at a desk instead of on the floor like you usually did. “Just a quick video today! Sorry about that, but I’m actually filming this on my lunch break,” you said with a smile and a laugh. Soap noticed that you looked awkwardly to the side as you opened your eyes, as if there was something there. “Anyway! I just wanted to quickly put this out because I woke up to an email that said I had one thousand subscribers!”

You clasped your hands over your mouth as you said it, but the little squeak of excitement was still caught by the camera’s audio. His hand pressed involuntarily to his crotch, the material of his jeans and briefs dulling every sensation but the pressure, as he grunted a moan in response. You were glowing with delight. The way you smiled and bubbled with excitement, practically bouncing out of your chair as you continued to talk. Every word made him wish he could hear you, see you, fuck, touch you.

A sense of dread slid it’s way down his spine, ruining his fuzzy headed enjoyment. There was no way someone like you – an omega like you – was out there all alone. You had to be hiding someone behind the scenes, off camera.

He held a growl behind his teeth, hand gripping mean around his growing bulge as you smiled and waved goodbye. They'd find out soon enough, he told himself. They'd take care of it. Neat and efficient, just how Price wanted. Then, then they'd take care of you.

“Wot’s this?” the low, drawling purr of his lieutenant’s voice said from the door.

Soap’s head snapped to the side just in time to catch Ghost slipping in. He shut the door behind him as he stared down his teammate behind the eye-holes of his skull mask. The click of the latch felt louder than ever, maybe as loud as his heart pounding in his chest.

“Christ,” the large man said looking about as he strode in.

Just like he owns the place, Soap thought, unable to keep a manic smile from creeping across his face. If there was one person he didn't mind seeing him like this, it was him. The bastard.

Ghost waved one gloved hand past the nasal opening of his mask before zeroing in on the state of his sergeant as he lay sprawled across his bed.

“Reeks in ‘ere,” he stated, voice almost accusatory as he crossed his arms over the bulk of his chest.

He was breathing hard now. Soap could see it in the faltering rise and fall of his breathing. Ghost could hide a lot, but huffing in a few breaths of untapped alpha pheromones from any of his pack-mates made him weak in the knees every time.

“Never gotten like this before, Johnny,” Ghost said leaning over him, his knee testing the side of the metal bed.

He wasn’t given a chance to respond. Your next video started playing automatically, drawing both men’s attention to the screen the second your voice rang out of the speakers; their siren trapped behind a tiny screen.

“Hi guys! Welcome back!” you said in your usual bubbly tone. “I’m so excited to get this video out to everyone, especially all of you lovely people that sent me in questions for my one thousand subscriber Q&A!”

Soap groaned at the sight of you: dressed in a light blue blouse that fell off your shoulders, makeup light and shimmery and surrounded by hazy fairy-lights. You looked like a fucking angel and he couldn’t stand not being able to have you a second mo-

“Easy, man,” Ghost rumbled from behind, skeleton gloved hand squeezing his flared bicep.

He was tense; ready to fight him. The both of them knew that it was just instinct. That he didn’t mean it. That he never would; within reason, at least.

Soap looked back in surprise, wide blue eyes locking with the calming deep brown – almost black – of Ghost’s. He hadn’t even noticed the man slide in behind him.

He silently berated himself. He had been trained how long ago to not let his instincts cloud his mind? That’s why him, hell, all of them were on frankly medically unsafe levels of blockers; a dizzying cocktail of medications meant to at least try to balance their hormones both on and off the battlefield. Maybe that was why. It wasn’t you: some cute omega girl on a screen, it was him. He had to be so far removed from baseline normal alpha behavior that his body didn’t know which way was up anymore.

When was the last time he scheduled time off for a rut? The answer dropped a weight in his stomach. It had been long before Task Force 141 formed. Since then – and after the pack formed – they’d simply taken care of each other, which was convenient for all involved. The question lingered in his head, though: was that really enough? He wiped away the sweat from his face and tried not to think too deeply about it.

Ghost’s hands skirting around his hips, broke his train of thought, making him buck involuntarily into the pressure he knew was coming.

“Easy now,” his superior chided in a deep rumble.

Ghost’s mask prevented him from nosing as close as he usually did into Soap’s neck, which he found annoying. It drew an impatient, yipping, whine from his chest, which was something he didn’t usually let slip. Young, pushy, impatient alphas act like that. Not him. He wanted Ghost closer now, though, and he’d do anything he could to push his lieutenant’s limited buttons.

Soap heard him breathe in a lungful of the heavy, sweat-perfumed, air. The man behind him closed his eyes and groaned, uncaring that he was pressing the hard edges of his mask into his sergeant’s slick skin. He enjoyed watching what limited signs he could parse through Ghost’s almost full body covering as the needy, musky scent shot through his brain; the way his pupils dilated, heartbeat increased, and his breathing came shorter and shorter. Good god did he want him right now. He knew himself too well to deny it. He loved having bigger and stronger alphas to toss him around for once.

Ghost groaned again, pressing his forehead to Soap’s shoulder. He mumbled something that Soap couldn’t even try to make out. The rough, gloved, hand grabbing his cock and squeezing evaporated the last of his brain cells.

“Ghost,” he cried, voice peaking up into something thready, needy. He let his head fall back onto Ghost’s shoulder as his hips jumped forward off his bed. His brain fried, calling out for more – more more more.

“Settle,” Ghost grunted from the back of his throat, slamming Soap’s hips back down hard enough to make the mattress squeak. “Fuckin’ mutt,” he chided, voice still gritty and deep, but with a lint of playfulness as he pulled his head up to speak directly into Soap’s ear. “Y’ fuckin’ hear that?”

He groaned as he came down from his denied high, sweaty and stinking of fading pheromones. He peeled his eyes open begrudgingly. The inky black of Ghost’s hooded irises, bleeding into those blown out pupils, coupled with the striking contrast against his bone-white scleras caught Soap’s gaze as soon as he glanced over.

“Well?” he repeated coldly, as if he wasn’t responsible for at least part of the state Soap was in. “Y’ fuckin’ hear that?”

He scoffed a sigh and reached forward to tap the left side of Soap’s phone, backing up the video by half a minute before clicking the volume higher. Both of their eyes were glued to the screen when you began to speak again.

“GlitterStarr85 asked – oh my god I love your username by the way -,” you broke into a sweet little laugh before continuing, “They asked: ‘You have such a cute style!’ Aw, why thank you!” you cooed, blushing, “That’s so sweet! You guys are too kind to me. Thanks! Anyway, back to the question. ‘I’m curious what your partner thinks about it and your job as a youtuber in general. Was it a hard transition or did they not care?’”

As you cleared your throat and took a sip of water, Soap felt Ghost’s hot, ragged, breath fan down his neck.

“First of all, thank you again for the question! I’m sorry I don’t have a more interesting answer for you, unfortunately,” you said with a nervous laugh aimed at the floor. “The truth is, I’m single. I haven’t had a partner in . . .” you trailed off as you thought, biting your lip and scrunching your lip as you concentrated.

It had Soap’s cheeks flushing again, pupils constricting down to pin points. All his thoughts coalesced around one word formed by your pretty, plush, lips until it was in his blood, his heart beat: single. Unclaimed. Single. Alone.

A jostle from Ghost had him snapping back to the video. To you.

“-and I think I’ll try to keep doing both until I can’t,” you said with another small laugh, sitting back on your hands as you got comfortable. You continued, still laughing, “Either that, or when I’ve become fabulously wealthy off of my millions of subscribers!”

Ghost paused the video right before a thunderous pounding of boots burst through the door. It was Price, and he looked like he was running for his life.

“Soap! Ghost!” their captain called, not giving a second glance to the state he’d found them in. “Briefing room. Now. Gaz-” he said, stopping to collect his breath as the two men extracted themselves from the bed. “Gaz,” he said with another gasping breath, “Kyle. He found ‘er. The fuckin’ lucky bastard. He found ‘er.”