#Or the next chapter of In Your Hands because I PROMISE we're working things out

[guqin-and-flute]

Holding Me Holding You–Ch. 7 [3zun Raise Jingyi Prequel]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]

[Ao3 Link]

[Holy shit, how has it been 2 years since I last updated this fic?? ANYWAY HELLO HI I MISSED YOU. We're keeping the baby, guys. CW: Disjointed, slightly nonlinear narration; negative self talk; more talk of battle aftermath, bodies (gross but no more graphic than prev chapters), and death; focus on lots of trauma to do with death and grief; general Twin Jade parental trauma; vaguest mention of child death, in that he repeatedly tells himself there isn't one and remembers part of his nightmare about Wangji/A-Fu dying]

Who are you?

‘Wen Baiqi.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Say goodbye. Tell her goodbye.’

It’s raining in Qishan. It’s nothing like the rain in Gusu.

Who are you?

‘Hei Xuecen.’

What must be done for you to rest?

‘All my fault all my fault ALL MY FAULT--’

This rain isn’t crisp, but disconcertingly warm. It doesn't bring life. It soaks into the ground, milling the dirt back into the blood and gore bloated mud of that night, sucking at their feet. Reeking of putrefaction. It coats Xichen’s tongue and throat.

Who are you?

Each time, there is a chance he will receive a reply from the Yiling Patriarch himself. 

‘Ye Qian.’

He never does.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘Never apologized--’

What would he do if he did?

Who are you?

What would Zewu-jun do? Clan Leader Lan?

What must be done?

Would he soothe his spirit?

Who are you?

Ghostly fingers pluck at his sleeves constantly. 

Who are you?

‘Nie Zixing. Never knew him, tell them--’

When he had first arrived, the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s Wen contingent still hung from the gate to the battleground. Or what remained of them. After scavengers, time, and the elements had had their turn. Swaying in the warm, wet breeze along with carrion birds’ cries and the distant tunes of the guqin language. Grisly pendulums. Dripping.

There is no small boy among them. He had hoped against hope, but now he knew for sure. This secret is tucked deep, deep down beneath his heart.

Who are you?

The corpses on the ground are Wen. They are Lan. They are strangers. They are Da-ge, lying bloody on the floor of the Scorching Sun Palace. They are A-Zhan.

"We should burn them like they did to our people. Scatter their ashes, so they will never rest." A venomous whisper from his own disciples, a young man, face twisted in rage.

(“They’re killing everyone,” he had choked his sobs into A-Yao’s arms. “My people--my family are all dead and I did nothing.”)

A-Yuan had been so, so pale against the sheets. So tiny compared to the infirmary bed.

“These people?" Xichen’s voice is quiet. "These cultivators that studied healing? Miles and miles from Qishan?”

Silence.

“Did they destroy our home? Did we fight them in Sunshot?”

Too little, far too late.

There is no small boy among them. There isn’t.

A-Zhan, gray and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling--

He pushes the dream-memory away.

Who are you?

‘Jin Mingni. 

My father--’

"We will bury them and hold the proper rites, as we have the rest of the fallen. And I will ask you to swear yourselves to secrecy regarding their exact resting place. In case anyone later shares your thinking.”

‘Zhou Sanniang. Never wanted to come. Save me.’

“Help me bring them down.”

There may be no small boy among the Wen, but he sees corpses all day, every day. They're in his dreams. He cannot stop seeing them. And he cannot stop seeing a boy (Afuyuanzhan) among them, from the corner of his eye.

He can never quite catch the face before he realizes there is no one actually there.

A skeletal hand is unearthed when they lift a body--a remnant of the Sunshot Campaign, years before. There were plenty of partial skeletons from that time that the Yiling Patriarch had raised to fight them. It seems some didn't have the strength to fight their way out from the mud. The death here has layers. A slow growing mountain of violence and dead and blood instead of stone. The building of the Burial Mounds’ successor.

Do the Burial Mounds have as many crows? Is it a feasting ground, as this has become?

They carry the quiescent dead, cover them with cloth, lay them in rows. Those whose spirits have passed on easily. They lie with their Sect members--when they are able to discern who they are. Still, fields of undyed cloth mounds, waiting to be retrieved by their loved ones, if they still live. Somewhere out there, there must be people still alive, families whole and happy, living in the sunshine. Somewhere.

Who are you?

His fingertips bleed from days playing Linhai and Liebing.

What must be done for you to rest?

Even those here that are living shamble like the dead--the rogue cultivators, his Lan disciples, the handful cultivators from other Sects, all here for the same goal, all hollow eyed and pale. He is supposed to be here for morale. 

They work deep into the night, far from familiar, ingrained rules about schedule and tidiness, here. Adrift.

What must be done--?

The fierce corpse is not a powerful one, merely tenacious. Shuoyue snakes out. It crumples immediately with a muted splurch into the muck, halved.

‘Tell her I loved--’

The top half of the corpse writhes, still scrabbling for him. The sound it makes from its ruined face is horrid. It's a wonder it can sense his yang qi at all; no eyes, no nose. Its robes are a splotchy black and rusty brown-red, but the Lan ribbon around its forehead manages to show a ragged white through it, here and there.

The talisman sears, blinding. It is enough. The body slumps for the last time. He can settle into that mud, summon Linhai from his qiankun bag for the Songs of Rest.

Who are you?

‘Lan Ruicai.

Show them all--’

The blood of the walking dead is no longer life-hot, but the same, unnerving lukewarm as the rain. He cannot feel it. He can’t tell where it’s stained him until he reaches his tent each night. 

He is efficient. He is in control.

The rain here doesn't cleanse anything. It hasn’t stopped for days.

Everything is the same color; the sludge, the thick haze of lingering resentful energy, palms, boots, the hems and knees of robes. That old clotted wound color. Dirt repelling talismans can only do so much before they are overpowered by the sheer weight of yin energy permeating everything. Stained.

There's no use cleaning. He tries anyway.

‘I was so scared, so scared--’

Who are you?

Sometimes, the spirits do not answer. Sometimes, they speak first, before he can even start the questions, raking the strings repeatedly in their anguish. Sometimes, they try to tear the guqin from him, try to rend his clothes, squeeze his throat. Sometimes, banishment is the only way. 

The sudden shrieks and roars at night startle everyone from sleep. If Wangji was well, he would be here. He is known for going where the chaos is.

Is that what had led him to this? To Wei Wuxian? An affinity for soothing chaos? For chaos itself?

Who are you?

‘Don’t know. Want to go home--’

"I can't anymore, zongzhu, I-I--"

"It's alright. Return to the Cloud Recesses. You’ve done enough."

Sometimes, he wakes in the night to find that he is in the middle of dressing, having no memory of doing so, a clump of cleansing talismans clutched in his numb hands. He has cut down so many fierce corpses, he’s lost count.

Who are you?

Food is tasteless glue in his mouth.

Who are you?

Every night, he is sure to take the medicine that gives him no dreams.

‘Oh gods oh gods ohgodsohgods--’

Every night, he prays that he has not left Uncle overwhelmed, that his people are being cleansed and healed back home, that Wangji has stopped bleeding, that A-Yuan is healing, that A-Fu is….

Who are you?

(What right do you have?)

What must be done?

He has been here for days that run into one, long, dark, meaningless drain. 

‘Son. Baby. Where is he?'

Who are you?

‘Pan Liu.’

His raw fingers pause on Linhai’s strings, still humming. Rain patters quietly on the hat that shields his face from it.

He knows that name. How does he know that name.

There have been plenty of others he had recognized among the dead, from different Sects and his own, from childhood, from Cultivation Conferences, from class. But each time, he must pull himself back to that life to remember, away from the rain and the red and the dead.

He can’t place it.

What must be done for you to rest?

‘My baby. Safe.’

The spirit is a thin wisp of light, playing about the strings, shining on the dark wood. Focused. Waiting.  

Who is your son?

‘Lan Fu.’

His mouth is dry.

("A-niang?" A hopeful little voice. The memory of a crumpled form in the blood-churned muck, a shoe print between shoulder blades….) 

It is cruel, endlessly cruel that he is the one alive. That he is the one sitting in the mud across from this poor young mother’s spirit. That he is the one with blood enough in his hands to leave rain blotted stains on the strings as he tells A-Fu’s mother; He is safe.

(Shrieks of raw sound as they carry him away. Echoing off the trees. Reaching back for him.)

A hesitation. Then, ‘Who are you?’

Lan Xichen. Zewu-jun.

‘Zongzhu.’

He will be safe. I swear. 

‘...Safe.’

Rest, now.

‘...Rest….’ The notes are quiet, exhausted. Longing.

Then, silence. That pale light is gone. 

She is gone.

He sits, still and silent as the soft caverns in the clotted mud continue to patter around him. His face is wet--mist and rain and blood. He almost wishes it was tears. 

He aches in a new, terrible way, now.

Oh, little one. You were so loved.

He has been witness to both sides, now, of this small, destroyed family reaching for each other through the dark. And how useless he has been in the task of bringing either of them lasting peace. 

To bring anyone lasting peace. 

(Useless.)

And do you serve anything so fiercely that it would be your last thought, taken across into death? 

It is irrelevant. The soul quieting ceremony had been performed on them as children, with all the other inner disciples. He will not linger as a ghost, even if he were to be struck down by a fierce corpse this instant.

He finds himself trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned having had such a ritual performed on her….

Selfish. You would have your own mother suffer and linger as an unquiet ghost for some sort of twisted confirmation that you were loved? 

Xichen remembers childhood before the death of his parents. The infinity of all of it. It probably never crossed A-Fu’s mind to beg her to stay with him. (“No, no go! P’ease!”) She had always returned before. 

The memory of A-Fu clinging to his hands so tightly he had drawn blood with his nails is inescapable. 

During that final farewell at the Jingshi, A-Huan too had had no idea it would be the last time he would ever see his mother’s face. He didn’t know what creeping death looked like, then. She was simply her, smiling, twinkling at them.  He had kissed her cheek and taken Wangji’s hand and waved to her through her ornately carved window screen as Uncle led them away. Wangji had always been the one to pull back, to fuss over leaving. Uncle had always made sure that Xichen set a good example for him.

The snowy day she had left this world, cold and dry, so far from the warm wet muck he was in now, something in him hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed that someone could just…no longer exist, just as suddenly as a storm might blow over the mountain summit with no warning. 

He saw her so sparingly, it seemed impossible that she wasn't just simply waiting in her front room for them to visit with a smile and open arms.

How? he had asked. When? Why?

Uncle had said that it was not for children to know. This pulled it even farther into the unreal, stretching his comprehension. It felt like a dream, a lie. A story. But if he could just see her…if he could just prove that this was some sort of…misunderstanding--

(Xichen had never asked again after that first refusal sat in his gut like a chilly stone. He suspected that Wangji had not either. Even now, decades later, he still did not know how his mother had actually died. 

He suspected enough, however. 

He knew it was sudden. He knew it was unexpected. He knew no one spoke of it. He knew it had broken his father beyond any hope of repair. Uncle had not volunteered the information, even now, when they were both grown. And Xichen will not allow useless rumination. Rule 60.)

 He remembered he hadn’t been able to stop crying. A-Huan had always hated crying--he always tried to hide away and not bother anyone with it, but this had been constant. 

Uncle had squeezed his shoulder and spoken softly, and reminded him after hours of stopping and starting that he must not grieve in excess, that he would make himself sick, that he was agitating Wangji, that he needed to calm himself, death was a natural passing, like the moon or a river, one must not let their emotions control them.

But still, that something in him that just knew it wasn't true waited until it was dark, until curfew set in and the snow lit the night full-moon-bright, reflecting the stars and lanterns. He had pulled on his boots and slipped from his window, cautiously darting across the paths of the Cloud Recesses in just his pajamas and his blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, shivering from more than the cold. 

This had to be a trick that he didn’t understand; a joke or a punishment for something he had done wrong. When he figured out what to apologize for, he would be able to see her again. 

The fear of being caught breaking the rules was washed away when he crossed beneath the familiar bower wound with skeletal winter vines. His mother’s house stood dark. All around it, snow was churned and broken, as if many people had been there. In all his memory, no one else had ever visited the Jingshi. The door was unlocked. 

It opened onto emptiness and moonlight. 

Everything was gone.  Her plants. The blue cushioned couch. Her desk and papers. Her dragon incense burner. Her tall candlesticks. Her big, thick, round rug they laid on and played games. The pictures he had painted for her.

He had drifted, stunned, through the shell of his mother’s home. The only proof that she had ever even been there were the scratches on the floor from where furniture had been dragged. That, and the scent of her that still lingered underneath the smell of whatever they had scrubbed the floor and walls with. They had erased her completely. Like she was never there in the first place.

Then it had settled on him like a cloak of lead, dropping him to his knees; the understanding, the true deepness of what this meant.

She was really gone. Forever. 

The ‘always’ was gone. The ‘next time’ and promises. That warm, constant presence on the rim of the Cloud Recesses, the visit that marked his days as cyclically and surely as the sun had simply...vanished. In just one moment, the world was made completely lightless. Incomprehensible. It had a hole ripped in its center, cold and inescapable.

She would never brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. She would never pout when she lost a game. She would never squinch up her nose and do an accidental snort-laugh.

If he had only known that it could happen so fast…if he had only known that people could leave so quickly and completely, he would have taken something. A set of her dark, weighty chopsticks, one of her bracelets, a letter; anything. But there was nothing.

Somehow, he had found himself in front of the Hanshi, his feet numb, his face and hands frozen. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember what his 6 year old self had planned. He wasn’t sure that there had been a plan. Maybe he had just wanted a parent. Maybe he had been seeking out the one adult that might have cared as much as he did that his mother was gone. Uncle didn’t understand--A-Huan and A-Zhan had always known that he didn’t like her. He was always polite, because that was important, it was in the rules--but he was always stiff and short. He frowned the whole time--every time--picking them up. He hated talking about her.

But the father he had hardly met, that distant, hidden figure--he had married her. He had loved her.

He would care.

The Hanshi, too, had been dark--and he panicked. Had his father left--or died like his mother and no one had told him? He had yanked the door handle--and to his shock, it slid open. He had been expecting a lock like the one that he saw being done up behind them when he and A-Zhan left the Jingshi. (A choice, not a prison, he had realized as he got older. Not in the same way, at least. Other things kept Qingheng-jun bound.) 

It was dark inside, curtains drawn, vague shapes of things illuminated by the light creeping in behind him. He stood in that doorway, frozen in body and mind, unable to trespass that much farther. It smelled unfamiliar and sharp. He had never been in his father’s home before. 

It was so dark.

He had called into that darkness, choked and quiet; “Fuqin?“ 

Silence. 

“...Diedie?”

(“They made choices. These are consequences,” is all Uncle had told him when, younger, he had asked why both of his parents were locked away from him and refused to say more.

Afterward, A-Huan had always been afraid that he might accidentally make those same choices, that he would be kept from his brother and his Uncle and nannies for it. Because no one would tell him what those choices were, he studied the rules obsessively so he could be sure to follow every single one. So he would never be locked up.)

There was a rustle, a clink. A shape had formed in the shadows, someone sitting up from being slumped on a table. A pale hand swayed into the pool of silver moonlight, pointing. The voice that followed had been rough, slurred like a mouthful of rocks. “You are not supposed to be here. Go.”

A-Huan had fled as fast as his numbed legs could go. Stumbling, breaking through the crust of snow, falling and rising and falling, back up through his window to collapse on the floor. His breath had burned in his lungs as he coughed and sobbed as quietly as he could, hot tears stinging his frozen cheeks.

Not quietly enough, though. A-Zhan had eventually crept into his room and curled up next to him on the floor without a word, arm wrapped around his middle.  When A-Huan had rolled over and held him more tightly than he had ever held anything before, he realized that A-Zhan was the only part of his mother he had left in the entire world.

And now, what did A-Fu have left of his parents, of a life he knew? 

A story, at the very least. A reason. A goodbye. The truth. It was all he could offer. It was all he had left for the boy. These other spirits and their wishes can only be passed along to others, if they were attainable at all. But this, this he can do; this, he can set right. To make absolutely sure that her will is found and executed, that the family who cares for her son is told the story of her last farewell, so he will know, too, in time. 

So a son will never have to wonder.

This much peace, he can provide. With those who can bear this place no more and an endless caravan of cloth draped bodies, he returns to Gusu, leaving behind Qishan’s bleeding sky.

-

The quiet of home stuns him. There are no screams, no groans echoing down the mountain. The trees don’t muffle sounds of sword or talisman sizzle, merely birdsong and wind. There is beauty here, something he hadn't known his soul craved like water in a drought until he saw it in rich blues, blooming whites, lush greens. The coolness, the clarity of the water and the touch of leaves. Nothing here is red-brown. All that bleeds is hidden away behind pale bandages and pale walls.

It's almost too much. 

(His hands feel filthy, no matter how many times he scrubs them. Discontent among such blessings is an insult to those that can no longer come home to them. He will kowtow in the shrine for this disrespect later.)

Time has meaning once more. In theory. There are places to eat, to rest. 

(It hardly makes sense to him anymore, despite the schedule being as familiar as the stone beneath his feet.)

Home, in the Hanshi, surrounded by familiarity and comfort, sitting at his desk as the incense burner next to him delicately permeates the air with sandalwood and the trees outside rustle and no one screams at all, he holds Pan Liu’s will in his hands. It is a brief, frail little thing in the face of such sorrow. It must have been hastily written after her husband’s death, as she willed A-Fu and her remaining possessions to the care of her younger sister. Who upon brief investigation of his ever growing list of the dead was found to have been killed in the battle against Wei Wuxian as well. The sister, yet unmarried, had no will of her own--probably too young to have begun to even consider death as a real possibility before life and Wen and war swept their way in. Their house had been one destroyed in the Wen’s sacking of the Cloud Recesses, their personal possessions few. No one else remained of their immediate family.

Pan Liu clearly had not expected to die before she could update it.

In his heart, somewhere, he had known that something like this was the case; that A-Fu was truly alone. Xichen had carried him for days and no one had come looking? No one had wondered where he was, wanted him home safe, with them? 

He had not wanted to look directly at this, at the time, knowing he would have to give A-Fu back to that loneliness, that uncertainty. Even though A-Fu is not the only child in the Cultivation World or even the Cloud Recesses with the same fate, it had been…different. He couldn’t have said why--still can’t--but it had felt like a betrayal to the boy. A loss, savage and personal. Even when he knew any other choice came nowhere close to making sense.

Still. Even he and Wangji had had their uncle and the small, rotating cadre of minders that were familiar to them. He saw his mother once a month and knew his father was there, somewhere, out of sight. There had been a thread connecting them to their parents and the life they could have had with them. 

A-Fu has none of this. 

And yet he still cries, still calls out, because he trusts that someone he knows will come. Of everything in these last few days, this is what is almost too much to bear, a knife stuck in his ribs that gouges with every breath. He does not feel sadness or regret; only pain. Everything else has been out of reach for a while now.

The rattle of his door opening onto seeping sunshine and fresh, bloodless air has him looking up. His Uncle steps over the threshold. “You’re back,” he says warmly by way of greeting as Xichen rises.

“Shufu.” He bows, then offers him his customary seat, more out of habit than necessity; this teatime visit was a familiar ritual in a life not too long ago.

 They take their places at opposite ends of the low, square table at the center of his sitting room as Xichen opens his tea cupboard. “It’s been a while since we have been able to simply sit and have tea together,” Uncle observes, easily.

Yes; nothing has been right or normal for a long time. “Mn.”

When he continues to set out the cool porcelain cups and the dark pot with no further elaboration, Uncle watches him work, expression a thoughtful blur in his periphery.  “...The library is not where I expected your first stop to be.” 

He sounds only mildly curious, but Xichen knows that it is unspoken approval that he had not gone straight to Wangji.

He hesitates, then continues his methodical ritual of movement. “There was a time-sensitive matter that I wanted to attend to.”

In truth, after the bath he had taken upon his return--where he had had to call for 3 rounds of water (Do not be wasteful, Rule 23; broken) before it was no longer clouded dark with dried blood and mud and rot--Xichen had stood on the Hanshi’s front porch, staring down at the blindingly white path before him, forking off through the trees. 

His heart had tugged him one way and his cowardice in the face of pain another. The thought of seeing more bodies just lying there, of seeing those dear to him--Wangji, A-Yuan, those in the infirmary--suffering while he could do nothing to prevent it was….

It was not something he was capable of, at present. Just for now. Just for these first few hours. It was selfish, but true. And so, he had gone to their records room in the library to request Pan Liu’s will. Pain had won. His heart was weak, choosing the easier duty.

Unable to stop himself, though he knows it will cloud his uncle’s relaxed and pleasant demeanor, he asks; “Is Wangji…?” He trails off. 

Awake? Improving? Well? …Alive? A sharp internal rebuke at this last. Do not exaggerate. Rule 671. Uncle would not be so calm if things were dire. He is angry, not cruel. He would have been told.

(A heavy hand on his shoulder. An empty house. Churned snow.)

He would have been told.

Uncle’s face does, indeed, darken. “Hmph.” A mirthless, scornful snort. “He wakes on occasion. He refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge anyone. He is simply lengthening his own punishment.” Uncle eyes him, adding, “You should be able to talk some sense into him. He always has listened to you best.” 

‘And so how could you have let this happen? How could you have let him do this?’ 

(When will you stop being angry and start being afraid for him?)

Xichen lowers his gaze to the dark wood of the table and scoops the tiny, furled up leaves of the tea into the pot, the smokey green scent tickling his nose

It’s true. Of everyone--their caregivers, teachers, and relatives, Wangji has always responded to him best. He would not always necessarily disobey outright, but he might frown or hesitate before complying or pretend not to hear--especially if he were called to come away from Xichen’s side. “Your class is this way, xiao-gongzi,” the minder would call and A-Zhan would continue his resolute little stride beside him, hand squeezing tighter around Xichen’s fingers the only indication he had heard anything at all. 

It was when Xichen squeezed back and knelt down to straighten his robes, smiling up into his serious face, saying, “It’s alright, ZhanZhan; I’ll ask if I can come out early to pick you up, mn? Go on, be good,” that he would allow himself to be led away with no further fuss.

 He had been the only one who could finally convince him that kneeling in the rocky ground every month when they should have been visiting their mother would not force anyone to bring her out to them. The first time, he had asked him to come in, come home. But knew his brother. He was not surprised when he silently refused to even show he had heard him. 

And so he hadn’t asked again, never having the stomach to fully destroy the hope that he would be let back into the Jingshi if he just waited long enough. 

But Uncle had become frustrated, their teachers and nannies muttering. They were impatient with his refusal, seeing it as disobedience. They didn’t see his mourning, only his stubbornness. So A-Huan had had to protect his brother's soft heart from those that didn’t understand. “We can kneel together, back at home,” he had whispered, his fingers screwed tight around A-Zhan’s cold hand. “I’ll wait with you as long as you want. But niang would--” his throat had caught and he had wrestled his tears from his voice. “Niang would hate if you got sick, sitting out here in the cold all day.”

A-Zhan’s dark eyes had bored into him, thinking. Reason and punishment and demands from adults had not moved his stubborn frame one inch, month after month after winter-to-spring month. 

Then, finally, this second and last time, A-Zhan had listened to him. Whatever it was about him was what finally got his little brother slowly, stiffly to his feet to hobble back home with him. Xichen remembered that he hadn’t felt relieved at all. He just felt like he had taken their mother from him all over again.

“I will speak with him, shufu.”

 Uncle nods, then heaves a sigh. “What news is there from Qishan?”

Mechanically, as if operating his own mouth from across the room, Xichen relays numbers, movements, and times. He almost reflexively scolds himself for lying; the mundane description of dry duty and the lived horror so far from one another that they were entirely irreconcilable. Just words passed across a shining table over fragrant tea, cool wind brushing the sun-pale windows serenely with tree shadows

When he reaches the final fate of Wei Wuxian’s executed Wen contingent, Uncle approves. “It was wise to swear the disciples to secrecy. This has all gotten so inhumane. Denying them burial was an unnecessary cruelty,” he says heavily as he shakes his head, eyes closed in weariness. “I pray that we are done with this madness at last, with that Wei Ying finally taken care of. What a mess.”

There is silence. Xichen cannot fathom what his response to that could possibly be. Should possibly be--as Wangji’s brother, as the Lan Clan Leader, as his uncle's nephew. As Wei Wuxian’s…what. Friend? 

…As one who cannot delight in his death, in any case. 

Despite the period of kneeling before the Jingshi, Wangji had never been a troublemaker growing up. He was always the Jade who grasped the Lan way of life more easily, molded himself to the rigidity of the rules with that same stubborn tenacity. 

It was Xichen who failed in that, who smudged the black and white lines to gray, bent them so they were slightly more comfortable around him; bearable--once he discovered that they could be. 

He was the one who accidentally got drunk trying to see if he could filter out alcohol with his core, he was the one to kiss Mingjue first in the Jin Gardens during a Cultivation Conference. The one to urge his brother to befriend a talented teenager who was gleefully and repeatedly stomping all over their Clan’s ancestral rules.

He was the one who had told Wangji to step outside his rigid view of the world, to see people for their hearts. And then Wangji's own heart had been torn out. As his uncle said; Wangji had always listened to him best. This much would never have happened without Xichen's deliberate meddling. 

All those years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first cannonballed into their lives, Xichen had just wanted Wangji to be happy. To have friends. Alone didn’t always mean lonely, but he knew he saw it in his brother. Saw Wangji with peers who were merely in awe of his talent, who respected but did not like him, love him, know him, want to spend time with him. He knew the difference, no matter what Wangji showed the rest of the world. The older he got, the less he smiled--the soft, secret ones that so many others failed to see. Xichen had missed them, dearly. And so he had pushed.

Everything that has happened sense feels as if it’s unshakably all his fault.

As the tea is poured, they speak; it passes over him like clouds. Which elder is still in which stage of recovery. The smith they called to repair swords and assess the spirits of those now without a handler. 

Something touches him.

 “Xichen!” 

His hand burns. He is on his feet. Shuoyue’s naked blade buzzes, ready in his hand. He does not remember moving. Every fiber of cloth on his skin feels alive and writhing. Blood courses. Scalding tea is cooling, dripping from his knuckles.

The touch had been spiritual, not physical. From the corner of his awareness and the Cloud Recesses boundary wards at once; a warning, tasting of wild metal (close to blood, so close). 

The Western Wards, crossed.

“Do not unsheathe your blade in a residence!” Uncle’s face crinkles from shock to a wince. “And contain yourself, this is not a battlefield.”

It takes a moment. His killing intent is up, streaming from his core like a river of blades, of blood. 

Sucking in a breath, he takes the torrent in internal hand and yanks it back, firmly, like the reins of a horse, winding the silk rope of it over again and again in the palm of his concentration, until the thrum of it eases. The pressure that had filled the room with the promise of death ebbs. Shuoyue hums warm, expectant. When he does finally sheathe her, the connection between them flickers, confused. 

Above his hammering heart, he hears Uncle continue, frowning, “I felt it, too. Was it someone passing outward or inward?”

His tongue, his mind is mud-stuck slow.

Focus. There is no battle here. You are home. Get a hold of yourself.

“...Outward. Less resistance. Nothing powerful.”

Oddly, at this Uncle’s frown deepens, shadows of concern replacing mere puzzlement. “Hmm. Those were in the West…far….” After a moment of thought, he rises.

As he steps out the door and calls for a servant from the Hanshi’s porch, Xichen continues to try to pull in slow, deep breaths.

Have you regressed to being such a novice that you cannot control your own qi? Your own battle intent? Are you a child? Though his uncle's voice is low and his attention is divided, the words ‘searchers’ makes it through the pounding blood in his ears. Strange.

When Uncle slides the door back open, Xichen asks, “Searchers?”

His silhouetted form hesitates, framed by the sunlight that pours in behind him and dazzles Xichen’s eyes, leaving his expression briefly in shadow. “...Yesterday evening, a child managed to wander into the woods alone.” A spike of cold worry threatens to heighten the wild surge of energy within him once more as his uncle continues, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We have had several teams scouring the backhill and the whole of our land since then. They are young enough that their spiritual signature isn’t strong enough to register on normal tracking talismans.”

“Why was I not told?!” 

It burst from him, harsher from shock than he had meant and Uncle blinks, pausing in settling himself back onto his seat, brow furrowed.

But he cannot bring himself to care about disrespect, just now. Any child alone and lost is terrifying, awful. There is something, though…something about his tone, his expression that has breath caught in Xichen’s throat as slow, glacial horror creeps up from the depth of his gut. He is avoiding specifics. 

Why.

 “It is being handled already; why would I distract you from your duties? You’ve only just returned and you must--”

“Who. Which child.”

He huffs in irritation, brow furrowing further. And he shuts his mouth, lips compressing.

Xichen no longer needs an answer.

Behind him, he can hear Uncle’s voice raised in startled alarm, but he is already out the door, already leaping from the porch onto Shuoyue. The wind howls in his ears as shoots upward, speeding west to where he had felt the wards ring within him. To where A-Fu has just crossed beyond their safety.

He knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.

Xichen can barely breathe around the air battering his face and his own terror. The shrieking sky threatens to rip him from Shuoyue’s blade. Everything at once feels heightened, his awareness expanding to notice how chilly it is despite the sun, how the damp of the wind tearing at his hair and clothes tells of rain in the past day, how dark the woods look beneath the thick canopy blurring by below his feet. He had been alone and cold and terrified, out all night. Had the boy been trying to find his mother? Xichen? The thought made his gut writhe within him.

(They peel his little fingers from Xichen’s sleeve as he clutches and screams…)

Please please please please please

How could this happen? How could he have ever allowed this to happen? There were rivers, cliffs, steep slopes of scree, ponds, caves, animals--gods, animals alone would--

He is well enough to move, to cross the wards.

If it was him. If it were not a strong enough spiritual animal to trigger the alarm. 

There is no boy hanging among them THERE IS NO--

The invisible boundary rears up in his senses, mere seconds full tilt sword ride from the Hanshi but so, so far for a tiny child, wandering in the night. Beneath the canopy, before Shuoyue even manages to drop to a reasonable height and speed, he has already leapt off, landing at a sprint. Internally, the memory of the disruption in the web of the spell warps around his spiritual awareness like a broken arch as he crosses in that exact place. The ground is not suddenly more treacherous, the trees no more menacing, but beyond the relative safety of the Cloud Recesses, his hammering heart sees the whole world is a death trap for this little child.

(He cannot bear to see a tiny body, he can’t, he can’t--)

Skidding to a stop, he wheels in place, eyes scouring everything at knee level and below. “A-Fu!” his throat is pinched, his mouth bone dry. “A-Fu?!”

The ground cover is thick with bushes, shrubs, trees both young and fallen. The sun shines spots into his eyes through the swaying leaf cover above, dappling the floor with shadow and light, dancing, blurring. Silence. Even the birdsong had stopped when this strange being had suddenly crashed into their peaceful little clearing. He sucks in a breath to call again--and then he hears it.

There is a small child crying somewhere nearby. 

Quiet and hoarse but unmistakable.

He isn't slow, gentle, or cautious or anything that a terrified child might need right now; something else has a hold of him, now. He blindly crashes through the brush towards the sound, half skidding down a slope until--until! There! 

A blur of white amongst tree roots halfway down, a curled shape and-- “A-Fu!”--a little face, smudged and red cheeked and tear stained raises and his little eyes light with recognition and he scrabbles, fumbling and crawling out as Xichen tears back up the slope--slips, rights himself--and reaches and the boy throws himself off the lip of the hollow and into his arms, colliding hard with his chest like his heart coming home. 

He staggers, momentum and sudden weakness buckling his knees. A gnarled tree catches his side and he slides them down into the huddle of its roots, curled around him. Against his chest, wrapped in his arms, A-Fu is damp and chilly. He is covered in muck and sticks and burrs but he’s alive--alive--safe and hiccuping and piteously hoarse, tangling his hands through Xichen’s hair as he clutches him back, gasping.

He can breathe. He can finally breathe again.

Some unnameable agony, like some wild beast, is thrashing, welling up, bursting from his chest. It shakes him, tearing at his throat, his heart, his lungs, burning. It’s not relief. It's not fear. It’s…

Heedless of stitches cracking and bursting, he yanks his thicker outer robes open and over the child, tucking him deep into the pocket of warmth. He can feel him shivering, his tiny heart speeding.

He had forgotten that his head is so warm, that his hands are so tiny, just how real his weight is in his arms. When he buries his nose in the baby fluff of his hair, under the dirt and musty forest chill is that wild-sweet child smell he remembers from carrying him for days beneath his chin--and long ago from when Wangji was young. 

He tries to pull back to check him for injuries, for bruising, but he latches onto his neck and sobs. Mere minutes before, Xichen had never wanted to hear another scream again--but now he wishes A-Fu’s cries were as loud as the first day he held him, deafening and demanding, sure and strong in their conviction. These sobs are private, weak, exhausted little things. Not calling for attention. No longer certain of a trusted adult’s return.

“P’ease,” he croaks and that pain, that pressure bears down on Xichen and it feels like drowning; it feels like dying.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m here,” he whispers back, thick and choked (that thing inside him that aches, that wails, that loves is strangling him), and he draws up his knees, he wraps his robes tighter and rocks and rocks them both as it breaks--all of it, calving and crashing and surging and molten and ugly and broken--and he wants to beg ‘scream, little love, scream your heart out; someone is coming, someone will always come,’ but he doesn't have enough breath as it tears from his locked throat in silent sobs, because with unworthy hands and heart, he holds this blameless little life that has wandered through the halls of his heart leaving muddy fingerprints, and does the cruelest, most selfish thing he can ever recall doing. 

He realizes that he cannot let him go again. 

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (6) - Call Your Mom

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Chapter summary: Though you were done filming Scream you made a promise to stay in touch, to even come and meet Jenna's parents. Yet, with Jenna so far away and no one else by your side, there was nothing stopping you from making a mistake.

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Word count: 7.6k

-Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason-

People around you were already dressed in warm clothing, wearing jackets and coats and warming up with coffee or tea or another hot beverage. Anyone who could spare the time seemed to stick around inside coffee shops or bars or any place that could offer any semblance of heat and cover from the morning cold. Compared to them you were fairly lightly dressed wearing only a thin long-sleeved shirt and jeans, you've kind of gotten used to the cold so this didn't bother you.

You still didn't order anything, instead you were just watching people going up to the baristas to take their orders and sitting down or just leaving for work or school or wherever. All the while, you were stuck here, with your suitcase next to you, and luckily it was for a rather pleasant reason. And the said pleasant reason just caught your eye as she walked right through the door.

Jenna came in with a man accompanying her. You did remember seeing him once when she needed to do an interview for her most recent movie, but since it was a busy day shooting you never got the chance meet him, but you definitely recognized him and you knew he was Enrique, her stylist. Almost instinctually you stood up which got her attention, because yeah, you stood out in the crowd for more than one reason. Your heart soared as Jenna, with a bright smile on her face pretty much ran up to you much to the amusement of her stylist.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tightly. You could feel the slight shivering of her body and it wasn’t caused by the cold as she was properly dressed. In fact the soft material of her long and warm  coat kind of tickled you. No, you knew what the reason for hers shivering was and you felt it too “Hey,” she whispered softly in your ear, as if she just needed an excuse to have her lips close to your skin.

“We'll see each other again, you know,” you assured her, knowing that was the thing making her feel uncertain and worried about the future. You haven't really been a part of this industry for long and she was much more aware of how things worked, how easy it was to never see someone again. On the other hand, you had a living example of a man that kept in touch with plenty of his co-stars so if Hugh could do it so could you. And you would absolutely do it for Jenna.

“I know,” she said, but you could feel her relaxing as the man she came with approached with a fond smile on his face. How much did he know?

The fond smile turned into a teasing grin. “Well I'll be damned, I knew you were eager to see her, but I didn't know you were this eager! If I knew, I wouldn't have kept you at that shop earlier,” Enrique laughed, and you had to grin when you saw Jenna blushing. Jenna blushing was perhaps one of your favorite sights to see.

“Don't tell her that!” Jenna complained as she separated from you and turned to look at her stylist, which also helped her hide the blush from you, but you just patted her on the back.

“Come on, it's adorable,” you said with a bit of a teasing grin on your face. Did you feel slightly bad for teasing her with Enrique? Maybe, but she was just too adorable when she got embarrassed.  You turned to Enrique and offered him your hand. “I don't think we're properly met, nice to meet you I am Y/N,” you said and were honestly surprised when he, instead of shaking your hand, pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Jenna’s been telling me a lot about you, so let's skip the formalities,” accepting this meeting was probably the best decision you could have made because you were hearing so much about what Jenna's been doing behind your back that even missing the plane would be worth it.

You turned to Jenna with the most obvious shit-eating grin on your face. “Is that so?” you nudged her lightly as she suddenly found her feet to be very interesting.

“Let's just order something already,” she mumbled and sat down before you could pull her chair out. Well, you figured that was what you got for teasing her as much as you did.

The three of you made your orders, classics really, tea and coffee, you and Jenna ordered tea and Enrique ordered coffee, an espresso to be precise.

“So, should I get to know you or just let the two of you hang out while I play the third wheel?” Enrique asked and now it was your turn to be embarrassed because this time he was teasing both of you. The truth was this meeting was entirely so you could meet Enrique, and say goodbye to Jenna, but she told you Enrique was curious and this was a good opportunity in her mind. So, you both knew you’d mostly be talking to Enrique this morning.

You ignored the embarrassment and looked him in the eye. “Ask away,” you grinned a bit, hiding the slight nervousness about what he could ask you. There weren’t many things he couldn’t hear from Jenna, and some of those really weren’t something you wanted to talk about.

Jenna groaned and lowered her head on top of the table and hid it behind her hands, but Enrique had his goal and he would accomplish it.

He was having too much fun with this though, and the growing grin on his face was enough of a proof of that. “So, Jenna told me a lot about you, like a lot a lot, but she hasn't told me anything about your previous role.”

You actually felt relief that he asked about that and not something else.

“Enrique, come on!” Jenna clearly didn't want to put you on the spot but you really had nothing to be put on the spot for. You could easily tell them about Logan.

“It’s okay, Jen,” you smiled at her and she seemed relieved, but also curious now. Why didn’t she just ask? “I was in Logan with Hugh Jackman, I played Laura, the X-23,” you just shrugged, kind of enjoying the shocked looks on their faces.

“Wait you were in the Logan?” Enrique asked and then turned to Jenna who was slightly confused, she recognized Hugh’s name, of course, but she wasn’t familiar with Logan. “The big superhero movie, the end of the X-Men, and Hugh Jackman's last time playing Wolverine. It was a big hit back in 2017, hell, for some it’s the best superhero movie ever made,” Enrique explained for you and you saw Jenna remembering the movie you both just told her about.

And that's when it clicked for her. “I remember hearing about it, and my brothers were crazy about it,” she turned to you kind of annoyed “You told me you didn't have a lot of speaking lines.”

You raised your hands in defense. “I didn't! I spent over an hour and a half not saying a single line and even when I start speaking it wasn’t often,” you laughed and it really was like that. Laura was silent for almost the entirety of the movie, to the point of her finally talking being one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You weren't sure anymore but you were fairly certain you didn't speak for the first ninety seven minutes of the movie and then you went into a Spanish rant. Those were good times, and a very fun day on the set.

“Unbelievable,” Jenna shook her head but you could see the smile on her face giving away that she wasn't as annoyed as she was pretending to be.

“Damn that explains the action scenes you told me about,” Enrique told Jenna and then pointed at you “She was doing crazy things in that movie,” he then turned back to you “Was that a stunt double or did you actually do it?”

“No stunt double, I did it all, from jumping on top of the car to jumping over Hugh to fight scenes,” of course all of it was made possible with the ropes and the equipment and all the other things that make superhuman stuff look like the way it does. You remembered just how fun it was to do those stunts, you were a kid, excited to have Wolverine claws and act with Hugh and Patrick. Acting in Logan actually got you properly into martial arts because you had to take some classes and then you just continued.

Sometimes, you thought that was both a blessing and a curse.

Not that you blamed being on Logan for what happened and what's happening to you because you were absolutely certain that one way or another you would find yourself in martial arts. It would only be a matter of time.

“Guess I know what movie to watch when I get home,” Jenna still seemed annoyed that you didn't tell her any of this before and you just laughed.

~X~

About two hours later the three of you came to the airport and this was it, this was the moment you would go your separate ways. Her and Enrique were going back to California and you were going back to Denver. Jenna didn't want it to happen, she honestly just wanted to spend more time with you, to actually watch Logan with you and not just on her own or with someone from her family. She wanted to see your first movie with you. You were checking your ID and well you looked cute as you lightly chewed on your bottom lip. Were you as nervous as she was about separating? She hoped you were, she wanted to believe that, while she couldn't be sure if you liked her back, you weren't immune to her.

So, and ignoring Enrique’s teasing grin and everything he would be saying to her when they get on the plane, she stepped in front of you and put her hand on you own pushing it down so you would look away from your ID and look at her. “So, I've been thinking. I don't really want to watch Logan alone,” she should have been more direct about it, even if she had to ignore Enrique's genuinely shocked gasp.

You nodded, completely misunderstanding. “Oh, yeah, that's fine. I know superhero movies aren't your thing,” you missed the point you oblivious adorable dumbass.

“That's not what she wants, Y/N,” Enrique laughed and she couldn’t help it, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him, which just made him laugh harder.

Jenna rolled her eyes at the antics of her stylist and dear friend. “What I meant is, how about you come by my place when you get the time? You know, meet my family and we can watch it together, because I really want to see you,” in more ways than one, she wanted to see you in that movie and she wanted to see you in person, and she wanted so much more from all of this between the two of you.

Jenna wanted you to meet her family, she wanted them to love you as much as she did, and she wanted to watch you get close to them. And maybe if you didn't have any other plans maybe you would come and visit during the holidays, depending on how your own family would react to that.

In her overthinking mind she already pictured meeting your own parents, wondering if you looked more like your mother or your father, or if you were just a combination of the two, and hopefully making a good impression on them. Maybe your parents could come with you one day and meet her parents and siblings and things would go from there.

It was way too fast, way too naïve, she knew that, but there was just something in your eyes that told her she wasn't rushing. That it could very well be the future between you, because that's how softly you were looking at her.

She watched as you swallowed hard and cleared your throat as if fighting something, some emotion that she couldn't exactly put her finger on and then you nodded. “Yeah,” your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat once more. “Yeah, I'd love that,” you said and she didn't understand why you got nervous, but she could tell it wasn't because of meeting her family or spending time with her. It was something else, something you weren't ready to share with her yet, and just perhaps it was related to where you were about to go all those weeks ago.

She’d keep those thoughts to herself for now. “I need to catch a plane, we’ll talk over the phone, OK?” she reached up, cupped your cheek and brushed her thumb across it. “Y/N,” she whispered your name as softly as she possibly could and rose up to her toes as you leaned down. Yet, at the last moment, she just changed her mind and instead of kissing you on the lips she just kissed your cheek. “Have a safe flight, and text me when you get home,” it was actually incredibly endearing how you just froze at the kiss even after she kissed you on the lips in that unscripted scene.

“Of course,” you stammered, and Jenna reluctantly pulled away from you while doing everything in her power to ignore how Enrique was looking at her

“Bye,” she waved back at you and left because missing a plane wouldn't be the best decision she could make right now. Even if she wished she could stay with you or just take you along.

"So, you got it bad for her?" Enrique blurted out once the two of them were far from you and she covered her face with her hands, groaning.

"I don't," she denied it out of habit.

"Sure you don't," he laughed as her face turned as red as a tomato.

~X~

Hugh was going to have a blast with this. You actually went and did the same thing he did! You fell in love with your co-star on your first role as an adult! Well that was one way to restart the career.

The apartment building you lived in was, for the lack of better term, pretty old but with sturdy and thick walls. Unlike those damn walls that allowed Mikey to figure out your and Jenna’s late-night hang-outs. But it was fairly close to the industrial areas so it was cheap as fuck and probably didn’t have the cleanest air, but you were honestly fine with that. It's been your home since you were about sixteen and a half years old.

You could move out, but given that you were restarting your career and that the gym you were working for wasn't that far away from here you just felt no need to do so. Besides it was a safe neighborhood, and as much as there were some other issues with it you never had to worry about Barbara getting mugged or anything close to that happening, when she visited you.

In fact, the only person threatening the security of your apartment was probably already inside it.

You climbed up the stairs because there was no elevator in the building and just as you suspected the doors were unlocked. “Best friend turned burglar says what?” you yelled from the doors. Cheers for thick walls, you could yell all you wanted.

“What?” Barbara predictably responded and peeked into the hall from the living room with a frying pan in her hand.

“What were you about to do with that?” you asked, more amused than anything and placed the suitcase down by the doors.

“Well, I didn't know if it was you or someone I didn't want to see, which is, you know, anyone but you,” she pouted and rubbed the bottom of the pan. “This baby was going to protect me,” you approached her and swiftly stole the pan right off her hands.

“This baby?” you asked with a smirk that you knew annoyed the hell out of Barbara.

“Not fair, I wasn't ready,” she huffed and tilted her chin up feigning the anger.

The poorly concealed grin gave her away.

“Ha! Like you ever are,” you took the pan back to the kitchen and went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. “You know you could have just locked the doors,” you told her.

“Yeah, but then you would have to unlock your own door and that just doesn't feel welcoming after coming back home after two months,” her logic was flawed but she believed it wholeheartedly.

“That is exactly the scenario someone wants when they know their apartment should be empty!” you pulled out your phone from your pocket and quickly sent a message to Jenna saying you were back home and safe and sound and then for good measure you just snapped a picture of Barbara and sent it to Jenna.

“And this is the nuisance I found at home. Can you believe my luck? I wouldn't be surprised if she actually spent the two months at my apartment because that's just the way she is,” you were recording a voice message for Jenna just so Barbara would know for sure you were saying that about her.

“Lies! All lies! Y/N loves having me around,” Barbara denied and you kind of forgot to stop recording.

“You do know having someone around also means being there with them, and not in another state while you crash as their apartment, right?” you asked, dryly and if you weren’t used to Barbara being like this your eye would have probably started twitching by now.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say babe,” she laughed, and you just sighed and shook your head at that and run your fingers through your hair. It never crossed your mind just how much of the conversation Jenna would actually get. You intended just the first bit to be sent, but you unknowingly ended the message right after Barbara called you ‘babe’.

“I'm so lucky to have you as a best friend,” you didn't even bother going to the kitchen and instead just walked around the apartment, noting all the chores that would need to get done. There really was no point in going to the kitchen, as there was probably nothing there. Knowing Barbara, even if she did bring something along, she ate it out of nervousness, so the kitchen was barren and free from any source of nourishment.

“You absolutely are,” Barbara wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for an one-armed hug. “I missed you, bestie!”

“It's good to see you too, Barb,” you eventually relented and admitted that you did miss her too. It has been two months and over the years you got annoyingly used to having Barbara in your life. “So, want to grab an early lunch, I'm starving,” you suggested without really having any specific food you were craving at the moment.

“Skipped breakfast?” she half asked half stated and you just shrugged. You had a piece of toast or something this morning. And you had a cup of tea. Could that be considered a breakfast? Well, you figured it depended on who you asked.

“Please tell me you ate well while you were filming,” Barbara had this stern look on her face and you actually smiled at that.

“I did actually. Well Jenna got me into a habit of having a breakfast with her, so I couldn't exactly skip it,” you were smiling because the memories of those days were pleasant but also because you knew knowing that would make Barbara happy.

She knew you sometimes struggled to take care of yourself. You’d just forget a meal or push yourself too hard. The loss of your parents did that to you. “I’m really going to thank that girl for doing something I couldn't,” Barbara said and pulled you into a hug, a proper one this time. “Keep doing that, alright, Y/N? Or I'll have to just steal your phone and call your girl and make her scold you.”

“You are never unlocking my phone,” you laughed at the empty threat, but the idea of getting Jenna involved in your issues truly bothered you.

“Yeah, sure, you know you have the most cliche password imaginable,” she poked you on the shoulder as the two of you have slowly made your way back out of the apartment, this time locking it.

“So, what is it?” you challenged her.

“It's my birthday!” she said with so much confidence you just burst out laughing, as she stood there, all proud and with her hands on her hips.

“I don't even know when your birthday is off the top of my head!” You were lying, you both knew it, but she asked for it! Your password actually wasn't her birthday, but you admired the guts to say it so confidently.

Barbara laughed and began going down the stairs. “Yes, you do know it, and I know you do. And if I tell you what your password is you're just going to change it, so no you're not getting that out of me,” all the while she kept being a few steps ahead of you and almost bouncing her feet excited to have you back once more.

You faked a sigh and looked up toward the ceiling. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully take me out for a nice meal and pay for it,” she supplied and you figured that would work, and you knew just the place you could take her to.

~X~

Perhaps the most important person in your life, even more important than Barbara, was Hugh. And he made sure to reciprocate that almost family-like relationship. It came easy to both of you, he adopted his children, and you were an orphan for a few years now so the idea of a family bond that wasn't defined by blood wasn't strange to either of you. You've never called him ‘dad’ and he never called you his child but that was the kind of bond you had. You kept turning to him ever since you met him on Logan, and having him in your life was something you were incredibly thankful for.

And getting back into the industry and realizing how hectic and busy everything was just made Hugh’s dedication to keeping in touch with you and always checking up on you stand out even more.

Even though it happened almost four years ago the memory of your panic attacks and everything you did back then was still fresh in your mind.

~X~

‘Worthless piece of shit! You couldn’t do anything!’ those were the only thoughts going through your mind as you pounded the punching back again and again not even caring enough to put on gloves or anything that would protect your knuckles. You just kept punching and punching until your hands hurt and then some more.

The heavy chains you locked the door with when you entered the gym dropped onto the floor and the doors opened behind you but you just kept punching letting all the frustration out.

“Y/N! Hey, wait! Stop, just stop it!” Hugh grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you back and you didn’t know what stopped you from twisting around and slamming your fist into him.

“Hugh, let me go!” you yelled, demanding, close to breaking as your voice cracked and you still tried to reach for the bag and keep hitting it as if that would change anything about what happened.

“This won't help anyone,” he lowered his tone almost to a whisper, but you heard the pain in his voice loud and clear. “Listen to me, Y/N, this won't help anyone. Not your parents and especially not you,” he managed to pull you back just enough to get between you and the bag and just hugged you. And you finally unclenched your fists, the stinging sensation being almost too much as your hands trembled and drops of blood ran down your fingers. You absolutely messed up your knuckles but that was the least of the pain you felt.

“I can't change anything!” you gasped, burying your face in his chest and clutching at the collar of his shirt. “I'm not- I can't!” you were spiraling out of control, you couldn’t focus, you couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were choking, like you were being pulled under the water and just couldn't come up for air. The chains that kept the doors of the gym locked felt light compared to all the chains holding you down at the moment

“Let it out, I’m right here,” he whispered, patting you on the back. “We'll figure out a way, don't lose hope yet,” he tried to be strong for you, but you just broke right then and there and you wailed sobbing and crying on the verge of a panic attack that only his presence seemed to postpone. You lost count of just how many times Hugh pulled you back right from the brink of despair, but not even he could have prevented everything.

Or maybe he could have, if you approached him and told him what you intended to do.

~X~

The only reason you could help Jenna back when she had her own panic attack was because of how many times you went through them yourself. Sometimes on your own, sometimes with Hugh there to help you, sometimes with Barbara there to watch helplessly because how could she not be helpless? She was the same age as you and just lacked the experience to be able to do anything about it.

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts and you hoped to your feet, happy to see Hugh again after probably close to four months. Sure, you kept in touch, you texted and you talked over the phone, but it's still been a long time since you've seen each other face to face.

You opened the door and immediately got swept into a warm, strong hug, one you happily returned. “Looking good kid! I'm proud of you!” Hugh patted you on the shoulders and actually ruffled your hair. You would normally get annoyed by that, but you were just happy to see him and grinned, inviting him in and leading him to the living room where you already had some snacks and drinks ready.

“Right back at you! It's good to see you again, Hugh, though you really shouldn't have knocked. From the looks of it no one that comes in here knocks,” you laughed, although you were seriously considering not even locking the doors when you leave the place. After all, there was basically nothing worth taking, the only things worth anything really were your laptop and phone, and you often carried them with you. But other than those two things you just had a full equipped kitchen, a simple bedroom and living area and not a single piece of furniture in here cost a lot or was worth the trouble of taking it all the way down the stairs.

Funny how money not helping when it mattered made it seem worthless now that you once more had plenty of it.

“Talk! I want to hear everything about filming Scream,” Hugh looked ecstatic over the news that you were once again back in the industry, and you knew why. Well, there were plenty of reasons, first of all he thought you were one hell of a talented actress, seeing as he had the chance to work with you when you were just a kid, but perhaps more importantly he believed that going back to acting would pull you away from underground fights.

Maybe it would. After all Jenna did stop you.

Maybe you could hope that was your ticket out of that world.

“You are going to laugh about this, but I kind of did the same thing you did. I fell in love on the set,” you admitted though you felt extreme embarrassment over saying it out loud.

Like you predicted, Hugh laughed like a lunatic, and you were actually happy to hear him laughing like that. It's been way too long since you managed to pull that kind of laugh out of him. “Jenna, right? That's what you said her name is?” and of course he knew exactly who you were talking about and you just nodded.

“She's just incredible,” you paused, searching for the right words, as if any word could properly describe her. “She’s perfect. I have no words- she is-“ you were just saying things hoping your words would eventually form a proper sentence. “You know, you have to meet her! She's the kindest, most wonderful, and honest, and genuine person I have met in a long, long time,” in the end you managed to put what you thought and felt into words.

Hugh had this gentle smile on his face as he looked at you. “You got it that bad, huh? I'm happy for you, Y/N.”

“Say, you mentioned the movie you wanted to tell me about,” you knew you were changing the subject, too embarrassed to talk about Jenna. You honestly weren’t exactly eager to get that talk from Hugh even though you probably needed one right about now.

Hugh’s smile morphed into a grin that told you he knew exactly what you were doing but he went along with it. “Alright hear me out, you and I in a movie, playing father and daughter. How about that?”

You actually laughed at that. “Isn't that the same thing we did like seven years ago?” that was exactly the relationship you had in Logan and well if you could act with Hugh once again you would absolutely take the chance, but it was funny that you would be cast in a father daughter relationship again. That is if you accept it and then try to get the role and then you get cast in the role.

“I know, but I think you’ll like this one,” he set the script on the table and pushed it toward you so that's how it happened you accepted the script and set it aside to read tonight. The rest of the day you and Hugh spent on catching up on everything that happened over the past few months.

~X~

The late November rain didn’t surprise you much, even if Denver was really sunny. You were just about to fall asleep on your sofa, honestly feeling kind of numb. What day was it anyway? It’s been a few days since Barbara left to see her parents for Thanksgiving, so you’ve been on your own since whenever that happen. Your phone buzzed a few times in your pocket. You were tempted to ignore it, but it might be for the role you auditioned for, the one Hugh mentioned. Work would probably get your mind off things, but it wasn’t work.

It was better. Much better than work.

You smiled when you saw it was a message from Jenna, on Instagram. You opened it and saw it was a couple of photos, one of just Jenna, giving you a thumbs up while holding a piece of icy wind cake and text on the photo saying ‘You’ve got competition.’ You chuckled, figuring her mom made the cake, the second photo was of her family all posing for a family photo and having a Thanksgiving dinner. Damn, so it actually was Thanksgiving tonight.

21:54 Jenna Ortega: Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N! Thanks for the recipe by the way, my family loves it. ❤️❤️

You smiled, she looked really happy in the photos. And her family was huge, she told you, of course, but hearing and seeing a photo were two entirely different things. You still focused on her, on that brilliant, happy smile.

21:56 Y/N L/N: Thanks, Jen, happy Thanksgiving to you too. Save me a piece of cake?

You set the phone aside and figured you could at least drink something, only to remember your fridge was mostly empty at the moment. You really needed to go and get groceries. At least there was some strawberry juice in the fridge and some improvised pasta. Damn, you actually had to make an improvised pasta dish, of all the known recipes you ended up making some improvised abomination. Oh well, at least it was tasty.

22:03 Jenna Ortega: Come and get it Chef. Any chance you could give me a tiny sneak peak into your own dinner?

Well, now that was a tough task to complete. Still, it actually brought a smile to your face. It was almost funny how something as simple as texting Jenna made you feel so much better.

22:05 Y/N L/N: Sure

You snapped a photo of a glass of strawberry juice and sent it to her.

22:06 Jenna Ortega: Come on! Don’t tease me 🥺

You actually laughed at that, you could imagine to look of disappointment on her face.

22:06 Y/N L/N: I’m not, I didn’t make anything, I kinda forgot about Thanksgiving.

You noticed Jenna saw the message and set the phone aside when she didn’t respond. She hadn’t seen her family in roughly two months, hell, she had her eighteenth birthday away from them, so you figured she wanted to spend time with them.

But just as you got up to read the script Hugh left you once more, your phone began ringing and you raised an eyebrow seeing it was Jenna. You picked up and sat back down on the sofa. “L/N Delivery, how may I help you?” you said as professionally as you could with a grin on your face and heard Jenna inhaling sharply before laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said through laughter.

“Yeah, and you love it,” you said confidently making Jenna pause.

For a moment you feared you overstepped some boundary. “I do, don’t I?” she said a bit out of breath and just for a moment she even sounded playful, and you nearly choked on the sip of strawberry juice you just took. “Anyway, how come you forgot?” she quickly changed the subject.

“I lost track of dates, and no one reminded me,” you told a half-truth, you knew it was this week, but you did lose track of the days and dates. “How are you? Are you having fun with your family?”

You could almost hear her nodding and smiled, the chatter of the people in the background wasn’t nearly as loud as you expected, so she probably stepped aside. “It feels so good to be with my family again, I missed them all,” you guessed she glanced back at her family. “I had to do the dished today, and let me tell you, there was a lot,” she wasn’t even complaining, she actually sounded happy.

“Reeree, come on! Talk on your phone later!” you heard a female voice shouting and guessed Jenna was the one being called.

“It’s important!” Jenna yelled back and you felt the warmth engulfing you at that.

“Hey, we can talk later, go have fun,” you told her softly, knowing by now that she just called you to check up on you.

Jenna paused and you waited patiently as she made the decision. “When are you going to come here?” she asked.

“In a week,” you told her, while you and Jenna knew you’d visit her and meet her family, which was, to be honest, a bit frightening, you didn’t know when you would be able to come until a few hours ago, you just didn’t get the chance to tell Jenna about it. It was still only Thursday, so you didn’t think you needed to rush to tell her.

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Are you sure you don’t want to keep talking with me?” she still offered.

“I want you to have a good time and make up for being away from your family,” you assured her. You would never, in your most fever-induced dreams, tell her you didn’t want to talk to her, but you knew how much she missed her family, and you didn’t want to take away from her time with them tonight.

“Okay, sleep well,” she told you slowly, as if giving you one last chance to ask her to keep talking to you, but you remained committed to the decision that you made.

As much as you wished to keep talking to her, you knew you had to let her be with her family. “You too,” you were worried about her insomnia, and you could only hope she could fall asleep and not have troubles with it while she was back home.

Somewhat shaken out of your stupor by Jenna’s call and texts you opened the fridge again. Still, just as you were about to figure out how to celebrate Thanksgiving given the lack of food and drink in your fridge, your door slammed open and the first thing that hit you was the smell of homemade food. “Barbara if that's you I swear I'm going to kick your ass!” you yelled because there was no way a burglar just broke into your house that loudly and was smelling like food.

“Jokes on you my ass was already kicked by the bus I had to sit in! They didn't have the heating on my! My ass is ice!” yup, definitely Barbara. “Turn the heating on, Y/N, or I'll freeze to death and you'll be to blame,” she was actually shivering so off you went to turn the heating on and then you just stared at her, blinking, not sure if you should believe your eyes and ears and nose or just the logic that she should be with her family right now.

“Don't look at me like that I got tired of talking sports with my family. What? Did I say talking? I meant listening about it!” she pointed a finger at you, but then changed her mind and hugged herself to warm up. “And your sorry ass didn't even turn the heating on until I came here, so you should thank me for not freezing yourself. So, win-win for both of us!” she just sat down and dropped the bag filled with food next to her. And this was your life right now.

And you wouldn't trade it for anything, except maybe adding Jenna and Hugh to this as well.

But you figured this was pretty much perfect as it was.

“You're the best, Barb,” you whispered, desperately hoping she didn't hear you.

“I heard that! Say it again so I can record it and keep it to cheer me up I will play it on repeat, I will put it as my ringtone, I will keep it as the soundtrack of my life 24/7, now repeat what you said so I can forever remind you of it!” sometimes you wondered which one of you was an actress because damn did Barbara have a knack for being dramatic.

“I will never say it again,” you denied her the opportunity to have that kind of proof against you. Your pride would not survive it.

“Oh, come on, you know you think that! I know you do think I'm the best,” she kept pushing but you remained firm in your conviction not to ever again repeat those words to her, or well not forever, more like until she put her phone down.

With a pout she did put her phone down and you glanced at it seeing the recording was still on and you just winked at her. You were not about to say it.

“Spoil sport,” she turned the recording off and tossed the phone aside and you glanced at it seeing that the app was definitely closed so you walked up to her because you could never be too careful with her, leaned in from behind and whispering in her ear

“You're the best, Barb,” and instead of being thankful as every friend should be she just went and glared at you because you denied her of the right to record those words.

~X~

Several nights later you woke up in cold sweat as you usually did near the start of December. You set up, breathing heavily and barely holding back a scream of frustration as that same nightmare that plagued you over and over again every time the anniversary of their deaths came close plagued you once more tonight.

You looked outside the window. It was dark, completely dark outside and you knew you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, and not even knowing what time it was you just slipped out of the bed, put on your coat and boots and just ran down the stairs into the street. It was empty, without even the drunks going back to their homes from another night of drinking, so it must have been really late, or really early but from the looks of it the Sun wasn't going to come up anytime soon.

You just began running, you ran like you were being chased by the nightmare that woke you up. You ran through the snow, the chances of slipping and falling not even crossing your mind for one moment. You were running toward the gym, knowing you could unlock and use it even this late at night. So, you rushed down the streets until you finally reached the doors and looked under the rug for the key. As usual it was there so with shaky fingers you unlocked it and step stepped inside hoping you could work out and exhaust yourself, thus working through all the emotions and tension within you. As if you were drawn to it, you went for the punching bag and you touched it like it was your oldest friend, as if the mere touch against the cold punching bag would start calming you down. For a moment it did, it did calm you down long enough to put the gloves on and then you began punching the bag as strong and fast as you could.

‘Do it, unplug them’ the decision that you made still haunted you. Those four simple words still ruined you almost four years after you spoke them to the doctor. And it wasn’t just those words, it was the fact that every single time you thought back to those words you were left wondering if you made that decision too early. You wondered if you could have pushed yourself just for a bit longer.

You weren't sure for how long you kept hitting the bag, you just knew the intensity and the speed of your punches kept decreasing gradually, until you just felt your like your hands were made of iron and you dropped them to your sides unable to keep going.

And then you just sat down, leaning your back against the wall and looking at the bag. It just wasn't enough, you got exhausted, sure, but it wasn't enough. It couldn't put your mind off it. It just wasn't good enough to be a stress relief.

You stayed like that for some time, just rewinding those events in your head until the doors opened and you saw Davis, the owner of the gym and the man who sent you the message about the event as he called it, walking in.

“Morning kid, figured you would pop up sooner or later,” he said dismissively while picking up the gloves you tossed at your side.

The laugh you let out was hollow. “Am I that predictable? I could have quit since I didn't show up last time,” you mattered but you both knew the truth and more importantly you knew he would say it.

“Why should I bother? I know how you are, I know you can't quit it. You skipped one fight, sure, but from the looks of it you'll be back for the next one, won't you, Y/N?” you hated that he was right. You hated that you thought you had the chance to quit, that you could find another solution only to run back right into this one.

“Yeah, when's the next one?” you asked, hating yourself even more for continuing this cycle.

There was a satisfied smirk on his face, and normally you would be annoyed with that, but the realization that you didn’t have the strength to quit underground fighting shattered your will to complain. “Tonight, actually. Same old place,” it was settled. There was no need to pick you up from somewhere there wasn’t a need to do anything but tell you when to show up and unlike last time there wasn't anyone there to stop you.

Jenna wasn't here to stop you.

So, tonight you will go and fight your stress and regrets away.

And if the guilt eats you up from the inside, then so be it.

How come you never thought of Jenna’s dad being a cop? Or how Jenna and her family finding out would affect your friendship?

In the desire to escape from the past you damn near ruined your future.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

[eyekonvivi]

The Seventh Star - Chapter 2 - Katseye x 7th member reader

All right reserved

2,3k

Warnings : none

A few days later 

The training room smelled like pine cleaner and faint anxiety. The music stops. I stood near the mirror, jaw tense as our vocal coach Lauren tapped her pen irritably against the piano.

"You're hesitating before the high run again," she said. "It's not nerves. It's doubt. Let go."

I nodded, swallowing hard. My throat felt dry.

Daniela sat across the room on the floor, stretching and barely looking up from her lyrics sheet. "We've run this chorus fifteen times already. Maybe we should circle back to it later."

I blinked.

"It's fine, we can try again" I add quickly, but Daniela stood anyway, moving to the mic.

"No offense," she added, "but this part needs confidence. And your voice? It disappears right before the key change. If you aren't confident enough, it can't work."

The room went still.

I looked at the vocal coach, who said nothing. Everyone else had left thirty minutes ago. It was just the two of them now.

"I said I can try again," I said, sharper this time.

"Trying and delivering aren't the same thing."

I clenched my fists. "Do you have a problem with me ?"

Daniela's eyes flicked up, and something cold shimmered there.

"You were handed this position. The rest of us earned it in the finals. So yeah, maybe I'm still catching up to the logic."

A silence louder than yelling filled the room. The vocal coach breaks the silence with an embarrassed cough.

I took a step back from the mic. "I earned it too. Just because the cameras didn't make a scene of my arc doesn't mean I wasn't fighting."

Daniela's mouth twitched, almost like a smile. "Then prove it."

I then put myself back in front of the microphone, looking into Daniela's eyes with a challenging gaze before looking away and addressing the vocal coach.

" It's ok, you can start the music again."

From the first notes of Boyfriend by Dove Cameron, I close my eyes, letting the music permeate my whole body, my heart swells with confidence, I stand up straighter, Daniela's voice mingles with mine and we sing in perfect harmony until the end of the song in an almost timeless moment.

As the last notes of the piano fade into the air, I exchange a glance with Daniela who looks at me with something like satisfaction in her eyes, or is it pride? The vocal coach lets out a sigh of relief, making me look away before she turns to me.

"That's it! That's what I wanted, y/n you've finally got confidence in yourself, you just need to find your place in the general harmony of the group and seeing the way you've managed with Daniela is encouraging for the future ! "

She then turns to Daniela. " It's the same for you, I've rarely seen you sing so well, you've made great progress since Dream Academy. I really need to talk to the producers about how promising your duet is !" 

As I was thanking the vocal coach, Daniela replied to her :

"Thanks Lauren, but there's no need, we're not necessarily used to working together, other vocal duos are already in place and make more sense. " 

The sense of pride I'd been feeling quickly disappeared, to be replaced by disappointment. I thought that this moment shared with the American would bring us closer but I was wrong.

Lauren, completely unaware of Daniela's retort, cheerfully replies:

" I'll talk to the producers and we'll let you know about the new rehearsal schedule, which will include sessions in small groups of two or three. That's all for today, you can go and join your friends, they must be dying to discover your new home! '

Daniela and I wave to her before joining the girls in the hall. Megan comes happily towards us, Yoonchae on her heels.

" It's timeeeee ! We're finally going to discover our new home, so hurry up and get changed, we're going to have a camera to film our next vlog. The rest of the girls are already waiting for us in the car and they're... "

Seeing my dejected expression, Megan interrupts and asks me

"Are you all right? You look really discouraged." 

I feel Daniela's gaze on me as I answer in a voice that is supposed to be enthusiastic

" No, I'm fine, it's just tiredness from training, but we'll be there soon, I can't wait to see Katseye's house ! " 

Megan's eyebrows loosen and she flashes me a smile before I turn away in the direction of the make-up room to avoid Yoonchae's perplexed gaze.

Daniela then says to me in a surprisingly soft voice, " Let's go and do our make-up again quickly, we've earned the right to look good on camera after all this training."

I then head for the make-up room with Daniela, my thoughts confused by her behaviour but eager to discover my new home and start afresh with the rest of the Katseye members.

***

45 minutes later

"Okay girls, I'm going to switch on the camera, so get ready ! We'll be right there' Sophia announces as we approach our new home.

I quickly fix my hair, the girls do the same while we receive the final instructions from our manager who tells us that we're going to collect our bags and then enter the house with the camera as naturally as possible to visit with the virtual presence of the Eyekons.

But the part I'm most worried about is the part that follows the visit: we're going to decide together on the allocation of roommates before playing a team game with our roommates.

I'm interrupted in my thoughts by Megan, who asks me:

" Are you sure you're all right? You look stressed. "

" Yes, I'm fine, it's just the pressure of the cameras, getting used to my new roommates and them getting used to me ." 

" Don't worry, you'll manage, you're such a good presence on camera ! " Megan reassures me as she puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

" Do you think so ? " I answer shyly, laughing lightly, my cheeks slightly flushed.

" Of course I do, and so do the others, don't you think ? " she adds, addressing the rest of the girls.

Yoonchae, Sophia and Manon nod with conviction as Lara turns to me:

" It'll be fine, don't worry, just treat the camera as something normal, as if we were just going out with friends. And if there's a problem, don't hesitate to let us know, we're a team after all ! " 

" Katseye forever ! " laughs Manon.

Daniela, who had been absorbed in her phone, looks up with a confused expression before repeating Manon's words and exclaiming enthusiastically:

" Yeah, as you say, Katseye forever ! " 

" Did you even follow the conversation ?"  asks Yoonchae.

" Absolutely not !" replies Daniela, earning laughter from the rest of the group.

I rest my head on Megan's shoulder, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere in which I'm starting to feel more and more at home.

***

A few minutes later, we arrived in an out-of-the-way but beautiful part of Los Angeles. The car drops us off with our stuff and we head for a house that seems too good to be true. However, Sophia enthusiastically confirms:

" I think this is it. This is crazy, let's go inside !" 

I close the walk with Yoonchae, trying to ignore the cameras as we cross the driveway to our future home. Seeing the younger girl's open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression, I ask her:

" So Yoonchae, do you like it ? " 

" Yeah, it is beautiful, it feels like I am in an american teen movie" 

Just ahead of us, Lara turns round and adds, 'I was expecting something magnificent, but what I didn't expect was for this house to look so cosy. I can't wait to see inside !'

When we enter the house, we discover that some of our things have already arrived and we find the gifts we received at the first Christmas we celebrated with the group.

I watch in amusement as Sophia reunites with her mixer, which she never ceases to praise, and I exchange amused glances with Manon before following Megan, who has discovered a garden.

The outside is stunning, and as Megan and Lara talk about the future rugby games they're going to play in the garden, I say almost at the same time as Daniela :

" It's absolutely perfect for reading ! "

Our eyes meet, and Daniela's smile shrinks lightly before she pulls herself together and asks me:

" Do you like reading too? I've never seen you read before during Dream Academy." 

"I loooove reading ! It's normal that you didn't see me reading, I kind of put it aside for rehearsals. And yet it's something I love, I'd like to do a degree in literature at the same time as Katseye " I reply, lightly surprised by this interaction.

"Really? I didn't know but that's cool, we can have reading sessions together. "

"Yeah, sure, that'd be nice !" Daniela smiles at me before turning to Manon, who's talking about some trampoline project.

When the garden euphoria wears off, the tour continues upstairs, where we discover three large bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. 

We all talk about possible roommates, and end up by establishing that Manon and Daniela will be roommates, Lara and Megan will occupy another room, and I'll live in the largest room overlooking the garden and terrace with Sophia and Yoonchae.

***

Having made this decision, our managers tell us that we're going to continue into the living room to play a little game of "telepathy" between roommates to introduce our relationship to the fans.

I take a seat between Sophia and Yoonchae, waiting for the camera to be switched on. Sophia keeps coming up with the most original roommate activities, which amuse us to no end.

Sophia's explanation of a blind pillow fight is cut short by the cameraman, who signals that the camera is about to start shooting.

We quickly connect our minds by comically touching each other's foreheads, before watching Megan and Lara excel in their connection until Harry Potter's interpretation, which makes me laugh out loud, her embarrassed expression only accentuating the comedy of the situation.

Then it's our trio's turn to perform. We coordinate perfectly on the first word, but have more difficulty after that. But it was the interpretation of the word "cat" that was particularly funny, or rather embarrassing for me.

In fact, just before Manon announced the word, I looked in Daniela's direction and she gave me an encouraging wink. Surprised by this gesture, I didn't react to the announcement of the word, unlike my roommates. As I stand motionless, my cheeks still flushed with embarrassment after literally losing my team to a wink.

"Y/n what happened? We were off to such a good start !" exclaims Sophia.

"I, I'm sorry, I wasn't ready."

Trying to refocus on the next word, I meet Daniela's amused gaze as she holds up the sheet containing the next words. After that, our game is played in a light-hearted atmosphere, ending with a good performance by Daniela and Manon

***

At the end of the vlog, we gather on the sofa to eat pizzas and drink some Swiss soda from Manon's country. I settle on the floor in front of Sophia to keep the giant plush Yoonchae company.

However, I'm not very comfortable on the hard floor and try to find a comfortable position to eat my pizza quietly for the rest of the video. Noticing my discomfort at the end of this video, Sophia addresses me :

"Y/n , you can lean against my legs if you like, it'll be more comfortable. "

I thank her and settle comfortably against Sophia, breathing a sigh of contentment.

The girls continue talking for a while as I feel drowsy, warm under my plaid with Sophia's hands absentmindedly stroking my hair. When I'm no longer the only one on the verge of sleep, Lara exclaims :

"We'd better get to bed and settle into our new rooms or we'll end up sleeping here !"

I give each of the girls a hug, then head up to my room with Sophia and fall asleep immediately after making my bed with her help.

***

The next morning, 7 a.m.

The house is silent this morning, exhaustion hung in the air like fog.

I stepped onto the terrass just past 7 a.m., hoodie over my tank top, face bare and sleepy. Los Angeles glittered beneath the cloudy sky. I clutched a mug of tea. Again.

"You're already awake ? "

She turned. Manon stood barefoot in the doorway, hugging a pillow, her curls a sleepy halo.

"Too many thoughts," I whispered.

Manon walked out and sat cross-legged on a patio chair.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The wind brushed our cheeks. Then:

"C'est fou, hein?" Manon murmured in French. "Tout ce qui s'est passé, cette maison incroyable"

(" It's crazy, isn't it ?"  "Everything that happened, this amazing house") 

I smiled. French always softened the world.

"Oui. C'est comme un rêve où je ne suis pas encore réveillée."

( "Yes. It's like a dream where I haven't woken up yet") 

Manon nodded. "Moi aussi. Je me suis sentie un peu... remplacée, au début."

(" Me too. I felt a bit... replaced, at first") 

I blinked. "Toi? Pourquoi?"

("You ? Why ?") 

Manon shrugged. "Une autre fille européenne. Une autre voix douce."

("Another European girl. Another soft voice.")

I put my mug down.

"I don't want to take anyone's place. I just want to stand beside you."

Manon looked at me then, eyes sincere. "Alors fais-le." 

("Then do it.") 

I leaned back in my chair, breathing in the city, the tea, the moment. "Tu crois qu'on peut être amies? Pas juste collègues?"

(" Do you think that we can be friends ? Not just coworkers ?") 

Manon grinned. "Meilleures amies. Surtout si tu fais des crêpes pour le petit déjeuner."

("Best friends. Especially if you're making crepes for breakfast.") 

We both laughed quietly, the kind of laugh that's part sigh, part promise.

------------------ 

Thank you for reading this second chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, because I'm pretty proud of it. And I promise you that I won't end every chapter with an interaction on the terrace.

Don't hesitate if you have anything to say or any suggestions for the next chapter :) 

PS : You can also read this on Wattpad on an account with the same name

[hellishjoel]

Delicate - Chapter Three: I Wish You Would

2.5k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: After making a bad impression on his first date, Joel nearly gives up - until fate in the form of his daughter Sarah intervenes; Joel and Petal come to a deal.

A/N: truth be told, @thetriumphantpanda and I completely forgot this series existed and got caught up in other projects BUT we're continuing it! because we still love our little baby!

warnings: joel and reader are single parents, rom-com vibes, foul language, Joel being terrible at dating in general, a lil angst

“It’s okay,” she said so reassuringly, looming by the cab as dark clouds began to form over the city. “It takes some time to get used to this again. I was the same.” He didn’t even have the nerve to look her in the eye anymore, brown droopy eyes finding solace in staring at the concrete. “It’ll get easier each time you do it, I promise.” 

His heart felt ripped from his chest, let down by his actions. 

Part of him wonders if he did it on purpose, leaned into ruining the date so he could give Sarah the excuses he’s been making up in his head. That it didn’t work out, that they weren’t a match, that dating just wasn’t his thing, and that he should just be left alone. 

But then he met you. And his heart beat so fast in his chest, he worried it might give him a damn heart attack. 

He’d never seen someone so pretty, with such a bright smile and warm energy that melted the cold exterior shell he had built up over the years. He had no excuses to give, and he didn’t mind. But then nerves took over. 

Joel sighs quietly, staring blankly ahead at his closed garage door. He sits in his parked truck, radio coming in and out of signal as the storm worsens overhead. He flips his wrist and tears the keys from the ignition. 

He’s back home now. Has been for maybe twenty minutes. He just can’t stop thinking about how fucking stupid he felt. Rain pitter-patters on his windshield, and he supposes it’s time to start going inside. Maybe then, Sarah would stop spying on him from the front windows in the living room. 

With a large huff, Joel steps out and makes his way up the porch, rain dotting his disheveled hair and half-decent ensemble. 

Upon pushing the front door open, he sees Sarah run back to the couch with Uncle Tommy just in time. 

“Hey,” she greets casually, fiddling with the remote and pretending to surf for something to watch, “Soooooo,” she coos, “How was your date?” 

Joel watches as Sarah’s face slowly sinks at the sight of him, large rounded-off eyes reading dismissively as he glances from her to Uncle Tommy. 

By now, Tommy is making a worried face, hiding behind a hand over his mouth, panic blaring across his eyes. Sarah’s a smart girl; it doesn’t take her long to look between the two. 

“Oh god, what happened, dad?” She asks with a strained tone, following Joel into the kitchen, where he fishes out a beer and sets his phone absently on the counter along with his keys. He lines the bottle cap to the lip of the counter and pops it open with ease, hearing the bottle hiss with the release of pressure before he takes a long drink. 

Sarah’s glaring eyes slowly turn to her Uncle Tommy. “What did you do?” 

“I-well-no, see, I tried- uh-” Tommy stutters haphazardly. 

“Ain’t Tommy’s fault,” Joel grumbles, the first words he’s spoken in an hour that couldn’t be farther from the truth. There’s a moment of silence as Tommy and Sarah share an empathetic look to Joel. “S’my fault.” 

After some begging and dragging, Sarah manages to get her dad to sit in the living room, the television’s volume set to mute. She rolls Joel’s phone around in her hand, swiping it open and finding the dating app he met his date on. 

Her pictures were beautiful. She was her dad’s type, too. Confident looking, with a sweet smile and a love for adventure. Even with a kid of her own. She understood now why they both found it important to make good first impressions. 

So, what the hell happened? 

“Jus’ tell’er what I said, Joel. I gave ya bad advice.” 

“Horrible advice, Tommy.”

“What advice? I thought this dating operation was a trio effort, and you left the Captain out of a very important dating advice conversation?” Sarah accuses, Tommy shrugs casually beside her on the couch. 

Condensation from Joel’s beer bottle makes a dark ring on the upper thigh of his jeans. He stares long and hard before continuing.  

“I was gettin’ ready for my date, tryin’ to find somethin’ to wear. Tommy helped an’-”

“And?” Sarah pressed, watching Tommy sink further into the couch, hoping to disappear between the cushions.

Joel grumbles quietly and continues, "Told him how nervous I was. Been forever since I had been on a proper date. So he gave me some advice that worked for him.”

“You took advice from your player of a brother? Who can’t find a wife to save his life?”

Tommy playfully scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could find a wife if I wanted to-”

“Anyway,” Joel butts in, “He said I should try to sound uninterested. Play hard t’get, or whatever. Not ask too many questions. And uh… what did you call it Tommy? A twisted compliment?”

Sarah harshly gasps, turning to her Uncle Tommy as he drops his jaw, looking helpless at Sarah’s genuine anger. 

“You never do that! Ne-ver! Never ever!” She said, starting to swat angrily at his arm and shoulder. 

“Alright, alright, mercy! Mercy!” Tommy looks apologetically at Joel, shaking his head in dismay. “M’sorry, big brother. I thought it would work for you, as it works for me. The type of women I try it on works pretty well.” 

Joel shook his head, eyes drooping again. 

“She wasn’t like other women. She was…” He trails off, unable to articulate how wonderful of a woman he met tonight. And how fucking horribly he screwed it up. 

Joel closes his eyes and puts his palm to his forehead, fingers tugging at his untamed dark waves. 

A frown tugs at the corners of Sarah’s lips, a sinking feeling cascading over her chest. He could try again, find someone else, but now that Sarah has seen her profile and knows how perfect of a match they would be, she knows she has to do something to fix it. 

She casually clears her throat and uses the voice memo option in her dad’s messages. 

“So… what was she like? Your date?” Sarah posed, watching out of the corner of her eye as the recording picked up her question. 

Joel’s had a terrible night, and he’s not sure how much more vulnerability he can spare, especially after how badly he embarrassed himself. 

“Not tonight, Sarah.” He says dismissively. Joel lets out a heavy breath, and for the first time tonight, a little smile tangles on his lips. His eyes lose focus as he relays the moment his eyes set on you.  

“She was… everything. You should’ve seen her, Sarah. She’s got real pretty eyes and a gorgeous smile. When she smiled, it was hard not to smile with her. But she was more than just physically beautiful. She had this energy about her, uplifting and optimistic. Funny, too,” Joel pauses to shake his head, a fond smile on his lips like he was reliving a lost memory. 

His amber eyes slowly begin to droop in disappointment at what he had lost. 

“It felt like seeing a shooting star. She was rare. And I screwed it up. S’my fault.” Joel bites down on his lower lip and tastes the salt of his own wounds. “Just hadn’t had a date in so long. Tried to act cool. I don’t even know what cool is. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. Wish I would’ve just been myself.  Too worried about makin’ a fool of myself that I gave her a bad first impression, y’know? But she was everything. She really was.” 

Joel could hear everyone’s heartbeat, all in sync, all listening. They sat together unmoving, breathing in gentle lulls. No one moved, not even when the room became dark and the gentle rain outside turned into a heavy downpour. 

After Tommy had left for the night with a solemn hug to his older brother and Joel disappeared to sulk in his bedroom, Sarah replayed the sound bite she had captured. 

Her father was being himself, kind and honest. He was a good man, just a bit misled. Sarah wanted his date to know the truth, even if she didn’t give Joel a second chance. She didn’t need some poor woman thinking he was a sleazy jerk. Sure, Uncle Tommy, yeah, but not her father. 

Sarah stares longingly at the woman’s profile once more. This could have been his person, and it breaks her heart to think how remorseful her father was tonight. Like he lost something he should have never let go of. 

Her plan was hatched. This woman would hear how her dad truly speaks of her. The true Joel Miller. She types with ferocity into their existing chat on Hinge. 

Hello, mystery woman. Please don’t give up on him. Believe it or not, my dad deep down is a really shy and sensitive guy. I’m sorry he screwed up. Please know this is what he really thought of you tonight. I know this is a delicate situation, but I thought you should know the man you really went on a date with tonight. -Joel’s favorite daughter, Sarah

You’re not sure how many times you relistened to the Hinge message. 

You’d imagine yourself waking up early and throwing yourself into the endless housework that needs to be done. The laundry piles up, and you should meal-prep for the rest of the week. But you received this message so late last night, long after you had passed out, hoping to forget the terrible first date that you had been on. The last thing you expected was to wake up to another message seemingly from Joel. 

Hearing his deep voice echo his mistakes makes you rethink everything about your date with Joel last night. He sounds sincere, so incredibly nervous behind his seemingly confident bravado. How wrong was your first impression? 

After a bit of pacing and rehearsed dialogue, you get up the nerve to send Joel your number, which he calls not long after. You tell him the truth: that his daughter has sent you a voice note of his apology. 

He seemed quite embarrassed that what he wanted to say was truly heard. 

You reminded yourself that not so long ago, you were making the same mistakes. Dating again was difficult, but you would want Joel to succeed with whomever he finds in the future. Just because things didn’t work out between you and Joel doesn’t mean you couldn’t help him. 

“I think we should have a proper conversation about last night. Would you wanna stop by for a cup of coffee or something?” 

Strangled, deafening silence. “I like coffee,” Joel finally musters up. 

After a short drive in his pickup truck, he’s pulling into your driveway within twenty minutes. You can hear his engine rumbling before turning off on the pavement outside. 

“So, about last night-”

“You don’t-” he starts, but you both pause as the coffee machine stutters. 

Seeing him in daylight evokes the familiar fluttering sensation in your stomach that you first experienced when messaging Joel for the first time. Despite the autumn setting, the dark green flannel he wears shows signs of frequent wear and seems to be a staple in his wardrobe—suitable for any season, any day. It fits his figure, like it’s nearly grown around him. 

You force your eyes to drag their attention away from his broad shoulders and tan skin, clearing your throat and turning on your faucet. It barely trickles, which leaves you huffing. 

Joel takes an interest, rising from where you sat him at the breakfast bar with his empty mug. 

“Low pressure?”  He asks, voice low and honeyed. 

“The plumber came last week and swore it was fixed. It’s fine, I’ll figure it out.”

Joel purses his lips, and before you can stop him, his heavy boots are already backpedaling out of the kitchen. “I’ve got tools in my truck,” he juts his thumb behind him, “wouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

“You don’t have to, really, Joel. I don’t want you to work on your day off.”

“S’not a problem. Sit tight.”

He returns with a Milwaukee toolbox, cherry red with a white logo highlighted by lightning strike-looking font. 

You don’t realize you’re still wide-eyed until he looks between you and the lower sink cabinets. 

“Sorry.” You mutter with embarrassment as you move out of the way. He grunts softly as he moves to the linoleum, his knees digging into the tile as he starts moving aside the cleaning supplies stowed below. He squints his eyes, the skin around wrinkling with focus. 

Just start talking about why you asked him here. 

“So—” you start as you pace the kitchen, watching him move onto his back to eye over your sink’s anatomy. “I know our date last night didn’t go as well as we both had hoped and—” your eyes stray to see the hem of his flannel nudge up his front as his hands go to work with a wrench, hearing him mutter something about how he was still listening to you.  But all you can see is the bare skin of his waist, dark hairs stippled down the center of his belly. 

“Right, well, I think what I’m trying to say, or rather failing to say, is that I think I could help you.” The wrench’s clicking comes to a stop. Joel pauses and slowly ducks his head out from the shadows. 

“Help me?” He questions. His tone only inflects slight offense taken. 

“Or- help each other.” You take a moment and kneel on the floor beside where he’s working, watching him sit up on his elbows as his greying eyebrows knit together with curiosity. “It’s hard dating as an adult. Believe me, I know. The apps, and-and the having kids,” your eyes soften as Joel’s gaze falls. “You don’t need me to explain how hard it is. I was horrible at first. There was so much fear surrounding it for me, and I just know that after those voice notes your daughter sent me, you have a lot of potential.”

Joel chuckles dryly before he continues to look up at your sink, slowly loosening a fitting on a pipe. “You think there’s hope?” He says, sarcasm-laced. 

“I’m not going to lie and say it’ll be easy. But love isn’t just for teenagers. We both deserve to experience it again. Maybe it’s not with me, but you’re a real catch, Joel Miller. You’re smart, and you’re handsome,”

Joel chuckles again, but this time it’s more whimsical. The sound is joyful and echoes through around the wooden cabinet he’s working in.  

“So, you’re tryin’ t’offer me datin’ lessons? Is that it?”

You will yourself not to roll your eyes. “Yes, dating lessons. What do you think?”

With a long and forced sigh, Joel ducks out from under the sink and stands to his full, looming height. You scrabble off the floor, taking in how his eyes glimmer like honey in the sunlight. 

He ponders before flipping your tap on, watching the water flow with nothing holding it back. You grin with ease, your eyes flicking to his own.

“Little miss fixer-upper, aren’t ya?” Joel says snidely, taking a moment to offer your proposition. 

A shrug and a sweet smile later have him convinced. 

“Alright. I’m in.” 

[mii-ruby]

Yona did nothing wrong (chapter 267)

Given that we're getting the next chapter soon, I wanted to comment on this matter a last time. Akatsuki no Yona is not a fatalistic story. It showed us that things could be changed to the better through hard work. That's why, this story will never promote the idea that one should surrender to their abusers and accept their fate for the greater good. Because yes, the dragon gods are abusers: they're akin to the toxic controlling partner (or parent) who gaslights you and claims to know what's better for you, who claims their unreasonable behaviour is justified in the name of love, that it is your fault for not appreciating it, and that everything bad that happens, will be because you didn't listen to them.

Neither Yona nor Hiryuu are selfish, foolish or evil for seeking to escape a toxic environment. It is never the victim's fault for rejecting their abuser. And whatever natural disasters befall the innocent people in Kouka will be because the gods chose to unlish destruction with their own hands, not because Yona refused to yield to their suffocating love and oppression.

In fact, Yona's defiance isn't only morally justified, but also logically sound for several reasons:

1- the gods have proven themselves to be untrustworthy, by attempting to kill the very people they promised to turn human and send back to earth, leading to their current descent to madness from repetitive contract breaking. If Yona had trusted them and they later went back on their word, she'd be called dumb and naïve instead.

2- The contracts they're imposing are one sided and self serving. A contract should allow both parties to put their own terms and conditions, yet Yona is denied this right. They're desperate to regain their strength, and once that happens nothing will stop them from breaking a contract or two. Ooryuu confirms that they'll keep imposing increasingly absurd conditions, but Yona is expected to comply with these absurdities?

3- The gods had already started withdrawing their "devine protection" the moment Yona entered the chalice. They were already planning to abandon humanity all together. Their protection of humans so far was only linked to Yona's well-being, that's why, if anything, Yona returning to earth would actually coerce them into maintaining their devine protection out of fear for her safety.

4- by returning to earth, Yona isn't severing all ties with the gods. She can go back to heaven and negotiate a contract whenever she wants thanks to the chalice and a drop of her own blood. Far from "abandoning" her people to certain death, she's giving herself the opportunity to assess the situation firsthand. Is this "devine protection" really necessary? Would its absence really affect the country in an irreversible way? Can't the people actually work through this crisis hand in hand and overcome it? After all, nothing guarantees the images shown by the gods are real, or much absolute. Yona has already defied fate: saving Hak from Zeno's attack, and seeking out the dragon worriers to prevent his death, proving that nothing is set in stone, and that you can change the future through analysing the current situation to decide on the best course of action

5- Kouka isn't facing "immediate" destruction. The sun didn't disappear, it merely got veiled by clouds, much like in winter. People are able to walk down the streets without using torches or candles. While Photosynthesis may decrease, crops will not wither overnight. Kouka also ought to have its own food reserves for similar crises. It also now posses several vassal states that could help providing food and housing for the most affected areas.  This leaves enough time to evaluate the situation and decide on the best conduct to adopt

6- The fundamental problem remains that the gods are apathetic to humans. They're unable to relate to them, and often minimise their suffering. Yona's return to heavens won't be more than a fleeting remedy to a lasting problem. As the protagonist of the story and Hiryuu's reincarnation, Yona ought to treat the problem at its root and find a way to bridge the gap between gods and humans, eventually making a contract that cannot be broken. Can this be achieved through surrendering yourself to vicious fickle beings? What was Akatsuki no Yona about all along? Was it a story praising self sacrifice and martyrdom as the absolute form of strength, selflessness and generosity? Or was it a story about struggling through the mud, relying on your actions, efforts and choices to shape your outcome? About challenging injustice, resisting fate and finding alternative paths? Which of these best describe Yona's actions in this chapter? Think about it, and find your answer.

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general, kinda major character death !!!, character lowkey brutally murdered,, but like deserved so 🤷‍♂️, two minor character deaths

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER EIGHT ▪︎ DO YOU BELIEVE IN ANGELS? (8.4k)

"What's he doing all the way out here?" You question, leaning over Seungmin's shoulder to take a closer look at the radio; as if that will help you hear better. "We're pretty far from our QZ, none of our patrol routes even go this way."

"Maybe they changed it." Seungmin suggests. "We haven't been there in half a year, things could be different now. And we don't really know where we are right now in relation to any zone. And we both know he gets special privileges because of his sister."

You snort at this, knowing he's right. "True, but it's still weird."

"...and that concludes the music portion for today since I apparently didn't bring much with me. I could freestyle-"

"Noooo." Someone else groans and you immediately recognize Squad Leader Seo. "Don't, please, I'm begging you. Spare me, spare the listeners."

"Fine, but only because you might take this away from me..." Changbin huffs. "Now for the mandatory shit the QZ is making me say- sorry, now it's time to stay informed. We're looking for two young women named Lily Morrow and Choi Lia, preferably alive-"

"Definitely alive."

"-definitely alive. Lily more than Lia, as she's the head scientist in all this."

"You're going to get put off the air if you say too much, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah. They've been spotted in a town southwest of Lake Haven, which is where we're headed now. If anyone-"

Static fills the air, crackling loudly in your ears. Seungmin tries to regain the signal, but the crackling stops and the lights die out.

"Shit." Seungmin exhales, giving the side a smack. Nothing.

"At least we kind of have a lead of where to go?" You shrug.

"They'll be gone by the time we get there," Seungmin says, looking up at you. "With the time you need to fully heal-"

"I'm healed enough! I just won't like, do anything crazy, okay? I promise." There's absolutely no way Seungmin believes you, but he nods. "I'll even stay in the truck if you ask nicely."

"Fuck that." Seungmin scoffs. "We both know the only way you'd stay put is if both your legs were broken."

Laughter fills the small space. After trying a bit longer to get the radio back up and working, Seungmin finally gives up and you both climb back up the wobbly metal ladder. The sun is starting to come up and although you can't see it rising, you can see the sky beginning to light up and the morning dew on the overgrown grass in the yard. You walk over to the sliding doors, taking a moment to image what it would be like in its prime; the grass cut neatly, lawn chairs clean, save for sand particles that would have come off the bodies that have sat in them, boats on the water, and music coming from your neighbours cottages. You'd be standing here with a mug of hot coffee in your hand, maybe a friend or a lover by your side, gazing out on life, not the abandoned landscape this lake has become.

When you turn around, you see Seungmin already showing Chan down the hole, Han and Felix standing slightly further away. Chaeryeong gives you a small wave as she comes down the small staircase, Jeongin not too far behind. The only one missing is Hyunjin, and you know it's because of how late you two went to bed, so you take it upon yourself to wake him.

Entering the room, you see he's face down on the bed, his arm stretched out and seemingly searching for something. Hearing you enter the room, Hyunjin shifts enough to peak over his shoulder and sees you.

"Hey," He says, voice rough with sleep. "Time to get up?"

You sit on the bottom of the bed and he twists his body to curl around yours, his head finding your lap and arm wrapping around your back. As much as you want to stay here in this moment with him, you know you might not have much time before Lily and Lia leave town.

Judging from the map plastered above the radio, you estimate it should take about forty minutes to get there. By then, there will be a strong military presence and you'll have to be extra careful. Even if the radio wasn't dead, you'd have no way to figure out where exactly the two women are hiding out or the state they're in. Lily wouldn't make the mistake of reaching out twice, not when she's being hunted this way.

"Let's go, there's something we need to show you."

-

In no time, you're on the road again. Everyone has fresh clothes and are patched up to the best of Felix and Jeongins abilities, canned food stored in the back of the truck for later. You're having breakfast on the road, dried meat and berries picked from a neighbouring cottages bushes. Felix suggested fishing, but there was no time. The good nights sleep helped you, but you're still sore as Chan drives over bumpy roads. Somehow you made it through the night nightmare-free, but you can't say the same for Chan. The circles under his eyes are darker than the evening before, a hand frequently coming up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Halfway through the drive, he has to switch with Hyunjin. He's taken a place next to you sitting in the middle of the backseat and you wordlessly bring his head down to your shoulder. Chan sighs, eyes fluttering shut and a hand finding your knee.

Seungmin is in the front next to Hyunjin, still trying to rediscover Changbin's station, but with no luck. By this time he's probably made it into town and is helping the others search. The reality of seeing Changbin again hits you suddenly, tensing at the thought of potentially having to fight him if you're caught. Out here, there shouldn't have been any chance of seeing your old friends, if you can even call him that. You didn't know him as well as Seungmin did, so you can only imagine what he might be thinking. Then again, you know they didn't always get along either, so maybe he's hoping for a chance to punch him in the face.

"We're almost there," Hyunjin announces. "I'm gonna pull over here, otherwise they'll spot us."

There are a couple of nods and 'okay's as he pulls over into a shady spot between some trees, driving deep enough to hide the truck, but not too deep you'll have trouble finding it later. You wake Chan up with a small nudge, but he still startles and almost hits his head on yours.

"Sorry, I-" You hold your free hand up.

"Don't apologize." You say, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. "I get it."

"Thank you, Y/n," He gives you a tired smile, exiting the truck behind you.

The air is getting colder, crisper. Fall is in full swing now and you're not sure what it will be like come winter, but you're hoping you've found Hannah by then and will be well on your way back to your little village. Leaves crunch underfoot as you walk parallel to the road, following it into town. It's bigger than you expected, greeted by a small shopping center and a grocery store on the edge of town. There are infected wandering around the parking lots, so you keep your distance. There has to be a way to figure out where Lily and Lia are hiding, some sign...

"There!" Chaeryeong stage-whispers when you enter a more residential area. Up ahead is a house with a broken window and what looks to be a lab coat laid over the windowsill. You recognize it as Lily's, the way it's patched in the middle to make it shorter and easier to wear. You're about to approach when you hear whistling.

"Get down!" Seungmin warns.

You stay where you are, right beside an abandoned postal van with Chaeryeong beside you. Felix is close enough that he joins you, crouched low by the bumper. You don't know where Seungmin called from, lost somewhere in the tall grass. The cover is probably better than whatever you're doing.

"In there!" The shout is distant, but you stay alert.

Two soldiers emerge from the side of a house across the street and you duck down further, your stomach almost on the ground. You think you recognize one of them, but they're too far to tell. One investigates the window as the other kicks the door down, gun back up in seconds. She enters the house, her partner following suit. No one from your group moves, all sitting ducks waiting for the soldiers to reemerge. When they don't, you take it upon yourself to move forward.

"Y/n!" Chan scolds as you move past him in the grass; your head whips toward his voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Entering the house. I can take them both out." You defend. "If Lily and Lia are in there, we need to get to them first."

"Let me go with- shit." Chans head perks up, and you follow his eyes to see Han already hopping the fence surrounding the house. "Damn it, just- go after him and don't die. I'll go around back with Felix and meet you inside, okay?"

"What about the others?" You ask, knowing they won't like getting left behind.

"Hey, I know that face, and no one is being left out." Chan frowns. "I'll send the others to check out other houses in the area in case they already left this one. Now go!"

You do as he says, hurrying toward the house. Han is inside now, but you can see him through the window looking into the living room with Lily's lab coat. Hopping through the empty space, you clear your throat just loud enough for him to hear. He flinches, but when he sees it's you, he relaxes again.

"You go up and I'll check this floor out?" Han proposes.

"Sure." You nod.

The stairs are broken halfway up, a large gap you'd have to jump over and create more noise than you want to standing in your way. You're about to just do it, but when you look into the kitchen, you can see where the floor above has collapsed, partially on top of the island. Climbing onto the countertop, you're able to glance up and find yourself in what looks like the master bedroom, one foot of the bed hanging over the edge of the hole you're now pulling yourself up from.

Right as you enter, so does one of the soldiers. She trains her gun on you, but then her eyes widen with recognition. Ryujin subconsciously brings her rifle down, mouth hanging open as you stare back at her. Part of you puts the pieces together- the whole of Squad 14-4 must be here, possibly along with your own, Squad 14-3. Why didn't you think of that before? Why would Squad Leader Seo be here with only Changbin, not her whole squad? And you already know her and Minho like to work together.

"I'm sorry Y/n." It's like Ryujin remembers her role in this, raising her gun back up and your hands follow. "We got a live one!"

"Shit, I'm sorry too Ryu."

And you're leaping at her, pushing the tip of her gun away as she shoots. There's a grunt, and you panic before you see her fellow soldier falling to the ground. You don't know him, and temporary relief floods you before you're kicked back to the ground. Normally you'd be back on your feet in an instant, but Ryujin managed to kick where your bruises are darkest, and you find you can't move. She aims her rifle at your face and you curse yourself; you're not dying at the hands of the military, you're either kicking it from old age or doing it yourself. Fuck this world trying to kill you, you'll show it who's boss.

Ignoring the hot pain in your side, you launch yourself forward and grab Ryujin around the waist. This throws her off enough to drop her weapon behind you, landing on her back with a cough. Her hands are pinned under your knees as you straddle her, landing a swift punch to her now bleeding nose. One of her hands wriggles free and she grabs your neck tightly, rolling you over and switching positions.

"I thought-" You wheeze, fingers trying to dislodge hers. "-you were loyal-"

"I barely know you," She grips tighter. "And you made me shoot my friend."

Black dots swim in the corners of your vision and your fighting is becoming weaker as all air leaves you, but you keep going. You refuse to let her win, to let them win. There's only a split second where you consider letting go, the black dots nearly taking up your vision, but something knocks Ryujin to the side and you're able to take a deep breath, coughing and wheezing as you roll onto your side. Drool drips from your lips as you heave, a wave of dizziness hitting you when you try and move onto your back. A gun shot sounds behind you, triggering your survival instinct, and you find yourself able to move without thinking.

Han stands in the doorway, his sniper rifle still by his eye. Your eyes wander to the target, and you spot Ryujin's body slumped over, her legs still straddling yours and a hole in the middle of her forehead dripping dark, red blood. As soon as his weapon drops, Han is by your side checking you over. No doubt deep, purple bruises already forming around your neck with how tightly she held you, his fingers gingerly brushing over the tender skin. You can see the worry in his eyes, trying to offer a smile to reassure him as you continue to cough.

"Can you speak?"

"Yeah of cour-" You're interrupted by another violent cough to contradict what you were trying to say.

"Let me send you back out there. Go find the truck and wait for us," Han tries to help you up, but you pull away at his suggestion.

"No-" You wheeze, breathing carefully as to not upset your throat.

"Don't argue with me for once," Han whines and makes another attempt to help you, but you push yourself back up on wobbly legs.

Clearing your throat, you just shake your head. If you can't talk, you won't, simple as that. You can still fight, even if you're slightly unbalanced. When you exit the room, you come out next to the stairs and there's another gunshot. Suddenly, you're yanked back and pressed against someone's chest as the bullet grazes the bridge of your nose. If you focus hard enough, you could probably feel Han's heart beating against your back with how hard it's racing.

"Close call," You whisper, out of breath.

"I thought you couldn't talk." Han comments.

"Up there!" Comes a voice from below. "Through the kitchen!"

They probably heard the shots Han fired and came running. You didn't see how many were coming inside when you were shot at, but you assume at least another group of two or three. Across from the room you're in is another bedroom, and probably your only way out. You can't go back down through the kitchen, that's where they're going to climb up, and you caught a glimpse of the collapsed roof blocking off the rest of the upstairs.

"Here's the plan," You whisper hoarsely, detaching from Han; seems you really can't shut up. You can hear the soldiers climbing. "We're going to run into the other bedroom and block the door somehow so they can't follow, okay? Then hopefully there's a window in there we can exit through and meet up with the others."

"What about Lily and Lia?" Han asks.

"Clearly they're not in here-"

"Freeze!" One soldier has entered the master bedroom and is standing at the edge of the broken floor.

"Ready?" You look at Han in the eyes and he nods. "Now."

The soldier is shouting something behind you and there's gunfire hitting the doorway right as you pass through. You duck down in front of the stairs, not making the same mistake as before, and another bullet just barely hits you, leaving a streak of blood on your forehead just above your eyebrow. Scrambling to the other side with Han close behind you, you make it into the other room and slam the door shut. Han starts pushing a dresser over and you help, grabbing the other side and heaving it in front of the door. You're almost there when it swings open, hitting the dresser. Without thinking, you take a knife from the sheath on your thigh and aim at their arm, forcing them to stumble back out of the doorway. Once the dresser is in front, there's only loud banging from the other side.

There's a moment of silence where you and Han share a look, preparing to head out of the window behind you when more gunfire sounds and you both drop flat to the ground. Holes paint the wooden door and walls as you shuffle your way to the opposite side of the room, waiting for the perfect moment to slip outside. When there's a pause in the shots- you assume they're reloading- you signal Han to get out first. By some dumb luck, there's a tree branch hanging down in front of the broken glass he can hang onto, making his way to the trunk and sliding down. You have to wait a few more minutes before joining him, more gunfire destroying the barrier between you and however many soldiers stand behind that wall. You wince as you vault over the windowsill, hands almost slipping as you grip the thick branch, and a wave of pain shoots down your side. Swinging your legs up, you're able to shuffle your body so your stomach is lying on the branch now, taking a moment to breathe. Sweat beads on your brow bone, the pain throbbing, but you power through and make your way to where Han is waiting at the bottom.

From here, no one should be able to see you. You're at the back of the house in a deep, overgrown backyard, the long grass providing cover. There's a big wooden porch directly in front of you, but the back door of the house is blocked by furniture from the inside, obscuring the view outward. You're about to turn away from the house and try to find the others, but as your eyes start to drift away, you spot double doors underneath the porch on an angle and grab Han's arm before he can move away.

"Were there stairs leading down anywhere on the main level?" You ask, eyes glued to the doors. There's a heavy metal lock on the stone base and a huge rock right next to it.

"No, why- oh," Han follows your sightline. "Do you think...?"

"We should check."

Moving quickly and quietly, you crouch your way to the doors and open up one side just enough to get through. Shutting the door, you're engulfed by nearly complete darkness, the slightest bit of sunlight peeking through the cracks of the wood panels making up the entrance. The stairs downward creak loudly under your boots as you make your way into this large, hidden space underneath the house made up of a dirt floor and stone walls, colder than the rest of the house was. As you step onto the soft earth, you reach a hand back to stop Han from continuing. In the corner is a large figure shaking; in this light you can't tell what it is, cold sweat covering your body as you realize- you didn't see any bodies in the house. Either the family evacuated or...

A loud whimper is accompanied by the figure jolting, followed by some kind of soothing whispers. Inching your way toward the corner, you see it's actually two figures, and they're not infected. It doesn't take long to realize who you're looking at- Lily has Lia in her lap wrapped in what looks like an old rug, and when her eyes snap up to meet yours, you can see the blood splattered across Lily's face.

"Tell me you have a medic with you," She pleads, and you notice just how pale Lia is, the way sweat glistens on her skin.

"No," You say, kneeling down next to her. "Just me and Han. The others are back outside looking around the neighbourhood for you two."

"I left my jacket so you would know which house we were in if you came along." Lily's voice is tired, hoarse. "She's not going to make it, is she?"

Pulling away the rug, you see two wounds on Lia; there's a bullet hole in her chest, inches away from her heart, and the marks of a dog bite on her thigh still oozing blood. Her chances aren't likely and you're realistic, but the look on Lily's face makes you want to lie and say there's still a chance, maybe if you got to Felix or Jeongin quick enough, but you know she'll be able to see through your lie, if your hesitation hasn't said enough already.

"No," You admit, laying a hand over Lilys which is still clutching onto Lia's side. "No, she won't. I'm sorry Lily." You don't fail to notice the way Lia's breathing has gotten shallower. "We have to get you out of here, okay? Bring you to safety."

"I'm not leaving her," Lily says firmly.

"You have to," You say softly. "There's no choice. We either leave you here and let them discover you, or you let us help you. Why do they need you so badly anyway? What did you ever do to warrant this kind of special attention?"

"You know I'm a scientist, but what you don't know is that I'm like you," She looks at you as you shift onto your knees in front of her; you have a feeling she has a lot to say. "I was in a quarantine zone for most of my life being trained by the best of the best... my parents. They were a part of the original group in this area trying to find a cure for the zombie virus, or whatever it is. After they passed, it was up to me, and they had really high expectations of me and I... I got close."

"What?" Han finally emerges from where he's been sitting on the steps in the dark. "Close to the cure? Why'd you stop?"

Lily shakes her head at him. "You wouldn't understand, not like Y/n. Those people are horrible and corrupt. They'd keep the cure for themselves and only give it to those who they think deserve it. I couldn't let them do that, so I left with all my research that I could carry with me. That was three years ago."

"How'd you stay under the radar for so long?" You ask, eyebrows knitting together.

"I faked my death?" Lily laughs wearily. "One of my friends was in a squad that tracked me down and cornered me in a school I was hiding out in. She let me go, told the others some infected got to me. There were so many roaming around I guess they just... believed her. She's a good soldier, trusted. After that, I was free to run far away. I ran into Lia pretty soon after, then met the rest."

"If you didn't call for help in the hospital they never would have found you," Han states. "Why'd you do it?"

"My combat skills are... limited." She looks away, a blush creeping up her face. "Lia's a great fighter, and San is- um, was, too, but there were too many even for them. I knew it was risky, but I'd rather fight my way out of a quarantine zone again than a horde of flesh-eating monsters."

She doesn't talk for a while. You look down at Lia; her breathing has completely stopped. Lily is tucking a strand of hair out of her pale face, cupping her cheek and whispering something in her ear before gently placing her body on the dirt floor. Beside you, Han is silent.

"It would be selfish of me to stay here and let them find me when she died for this cause," Lily says with a new fire. "And I can't let Hannah die because I'm stubborn."

Your eyes widen at her unknown confession. "Did you say Hannah?"

"Is that important?"

"Very," You say, unable to hide your smile as you look at Han, whose eyes are wider than yours.

-

It's surprisingly easy to avoid getting spotted as you sneak through the backyard and start to head back to where Hyunjin hid the truck. As you weave through the long-abandoned houses, you peek inside for any signs of your friends. Up ahead, you see a familiar figure dashing between two parked cars and signal Han to wait in the alley you're walking through. Following where you saw the person head, you enter a small dance studio. She's standing with her back to you, hand trailing one wall.

"Chaeryeong." You whisper when you're close enough to her and she jumps, making you laugh. "Where's Jeongin? Hyunjin? Hell, even Chan and Felix? Those two were supposed to meet with me and Han in that house."

"I got separated from Jeongin." She huffs, leaning against a wooden bar sticking out from the wall. There's a small cut on her neck, but other than that and some dirt, she looks unscathed. "Hyunjin ended up going with the other two, but I don't know what happened after Jeongin and I left you guys. I hope he's okay. I hope they're all okay."

Worry is written all over her face and she hugs herself subconsciously. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you try and reassure her.

"I'm sure they're fine, they know how to take care of themselves." You squeeze her in hopes of comforting her. "The back of that house was blocked off, so they might have tried to find another way in and we missed them."

"Yeah, yeah." Chaeryeong's head turns to yours. "You're right. Besides-"

"Hands up!"

You freeze, the hair on the back of your head sticking up. That voice is familiar, but you can't place it until you turn around and see Officer Song staring back at you with five more soldiers behind him. He scoffs, approaching you carelessly, and you have half a mind to grab the knife from your hip and stick it in his chest.

"We meet again." He announces. "What are you doing, always interfering the way you do? You both know all the actual rebels are long dead, right?"

He's referring to their parents, you know it. As far as you know, everyone you've met were born into the rebellion against how the government handled the apocalypse, save for Hyunjin and Jeongin and now you and Seungmin too.

Rough hands grip your arm closest to him, dragging you away from Chaeryeong and throwing you to the ground; as if you don't have enough bruises. You watch from the floor as another soldier grabs onto Chaeryeong and disarms her, all of Officer Song's attention laser-focused on you. With him crouched in front of you, you're having a sense of deja vu, only this time you still have a weapon that seems to have gone unnoticed. In a flash, your hand is on the knife and swinging at Officer Song, landing a blow into his shoulder. He grunts and falls back, but is up again in seconds and grabbing you under the chin.

"You little bitch," He seethes, and you can see blood seeping through his army green shirt. "You think you can get away with that? How do you feel about never seeing your little friends ever again?"

Unable to respond with words, you gather saliva in your mouth and spit directly at his face. He throws you back down to wipe his face with the bottom of his shirt and stands. In the background, Chaeryeong is still fighting the hold of both the soldiers holding her against the wall by her arms, legs flailing up and hair falling into her face. Her teeth are bared as Officer Song walks past her, not even sparing her a glance, with your knife still stuck in his body. He makes some sort of hand gesture and suddenly there are two pairs of hands on you, lifting you up to a standing position.

"Send a squad to hunt the others down." He orders, turning around and making eye contact with you. "No one makes it out alive."

-

There's a dull pain in your left temple where you assume you've been hit, your eyes blinking open to a blurry cell door greeting you. You know where you are; the familiar musty smell of this quarantine zone's makeshift jail fills your nostrils as you begin to remember what happened. For a moment, panic overwhelms you, but then you spot Chaeryeong across from you, still out like a light. There's a faint bruise forming on her jaw. You're going to kill whoever hit her.

"Awake?" A voice from beside you asks and you turn your head to see someone you don't recognize waltzing in. "Can you hear me? I know my people did a number on you."

He smiles down at you and you don't answer.

"How about a name?" You still don't reply. "Stubborn, okay, I'll start. My name is Kim Hongjoong, but you can call me Captain Kim. You killed two of my soldiers and stabbed an officer, what do you think your punishment should be, hm?"

"Captain!" He doesn't spare a glance to whoever called for him from the door, just hums in response. "One of the squad leaders found some others, but they claim to be lost. Can you see to them?"

"I guess I should get going." Captian Kim exhales, his shoulders dropping. "I'll see you later, Y/n."

"How did you know-" But he's gone before you can finish your sentence, leaving you in your dimly lit, cold, cement cell.

There are a few hours between each visit from random cadets, something you remember having to do as a part of your training. Chaeryeong has woken up and you've both complained about the hard ground and the temperature. You know it's supposed to be uncomfortable and boring, but it still sucks major balls to be stuck in here with nothing to do. You wonder about the other people; you wonder about your people.

"Hey, Y/n? Can I ask you something?" Chaeryeong shuffles her way to the front of her cell, sitting with her legs crossed.

"What's up?"

"How did you know you had feelings for Hyunjin." You blush.

"That's what you're wondering right now? Not maybe how we're going to get out of this mess?" You laugh when she shrugs in response. "Why do you want to know?"

When she blushes and tries to brush off your question, you gasp.

"No," You say. "Who?!"

"No one! Forget I asked!" She puts her head in her hands and laughs louder, but it's cut short by the door opening.

A young cadet walks behind Captain Kim, three others following suit. When their faces come into the light, you fight to remain stoic. Walking with the Captain is none other than Han Jisung. Why isn't he being thrown in a cell right now? Why is he free to stand beside them and stare into your eyes like-

Then it hits you; he's playing a part. No one here besides you and Chaeryeong should know who he is. In the hospital, everyone but him and Chaeryeong were inside. Officer Song never saw him, Minho never saw him, nobody saw him. And your heart leaps at the thought of him here to rescue you.

"You don't recognize her?" Captain Kim asks, watching Han intently as he shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows.

"No, sir," He says dutifully, looking at him with the same confused eyes he was just looking at you with. Hell, if you didn't know better, you'd think he'd suffered from some kind of memory loss.

"You're sure?"

"Very."

"Alright... and her?" They turn around to Chaeryeong's cell and he shakes his head again, but you notice he's making a damn peace sign behind his back to you. "Very well. We'll have to take you in for further questioning before deciding what to do with you, I hope you'll understand."

"Of course, sir."

Captain Kim smiles at him, his profile somehow still lit sharply in the dim lights. "I like you... we'll make a soldier out of you."

Han salutes with a shit-eating grin on his face, but quickly turns it into fake sincerity.

"Aye-aye captain, I won't disappoint!" And you know he won't. Han will play the part to a T until he can get you two out of here and back on the road. You know how loyal he is to Chan and the others, there's no way he's actually considering this... and no way does he have you fooled as well, taking his disguise as well as he is.

How did Chan approve of this idiotic plan? One wrong move and he'll be found out, not only fucking up the chances of getting you out, but setting the group even further back in finding Hannah. Han casts you one last glance before the three leave the room, winking as he exits. Once the door shuts, you turn to Chaeryeong with wide eyes and she sighs.

"This is not going to end well..."

-

Whatever Han is doing seems to be working.

Over the next few days, he's in and out of the cells training just like you had once. On the first night, you had the realization that you still have your bobby pin and could easily pick the locks of both yours and Chaeryeong's cell doors, but she talked you out of the idea.

"We do that and they'll be all over us in seconds," She said. "There's no guarantee that this QZ is set up like yours and we're weaponless. Surely there's someone guarding this door as well, if not multiple someones?"

"Well, yeah..." You looked away from her, embarrassed.

"So we need a better plan than that." She gave you a sad look. "I'm sorry Y/n, I know I haven't been able to think of anything that would actually work and not end in our deaths either."

In the present, Han is crouched in front of your cell door and sticking his hand through the bars to poke at you. You open your eyes with a jolt, hands raising in defence, but immediately falling back to your lap when you see it's just him. Han retracts his hand, going to sit on his knees in front of you. You raise an eyebrow at him, prompting him to announce why he's sitting in front of you like you're friends.

"I have a plan," Han says, giddy. He bites his bottom lip to contain what you assume is excitement. "Not only can I get you both out of here, but we can also steal information regarding resources Lily might need for the cure. I've also heard rumours about some kind of zombie-free city? I bet you there's info about that too, I just haven't located it yet..."

"How are you gonna do that without being caught?" You ask, squinting your eyes at him.

"I've made friends." His smile grows wider.

"Friends...?" You eye him.

"Squad Leader kind of friends... maybe a specific one?" You sit up, clasping the bars in front of his face. "A certain man named Lee Minho who just so happens to be here on business?"

"You're fucking lying-" But it makes sense. Where Squad Leader Seo goes, he goes.

"I'm not!" He almost sounds offended. "Minho agreed to help cover me when I steal the plans tonight-"

"Tonight?"

"Tonight! Then, I'll come in here and bust you out when I'm on guard duty with Changbin. He's cool, by the way." Han stands up, and you do as well. "We're going to fake a fight and he'll let us slip out since apparently you two know each other and he feels he owes it to you for leaving you behind that day."

Your chest tightens. That day, the last day of being a cadet. You almost forgot he was there too.

"Anyway, there's a kind of secret underground tunnel thing going on in this QZ that we can use to get out," Han's voice quickens, knowing he's running out of time before someone comes in here. "I'll bring you both some kind of weapon if I can, but no promises. Once we leave through that door, we have to be faster than we've ever been before. I already ran this plan over with Chaeryeong while you were dozing."

Behind him, you can see her curled into herself with her eyes closed, breathing steady, and the occasional twitch. She's fixed her hair back into a low bun, only a few strands of black sweeping over her sleeping face. She looks like an angel.

"Okay." You turn your attention back to Han. "You want this plan to work? Get your butt back out there and do your job, or they'll start to get suspicious."

After Han leaves, you take some time pacing around your cell and ruminating his words. The plan is risky, but any plan in a place as secure as a quarantine zone would be. There's a lot of room for error and a ton of kinks to work out, but your heart is focusing on something much louder than what your mind needs to be thinking of; Minho. Why hasn't he come to see you if he's here? You assume you weren't supposed to find out since he's only helping Han technically. Will he find out you know? And if he does, will he come see you then? Or is him knowing you a danger to himself? If they connect him to you escaping both here and the hospital, what will happen to him? You don't let yourself think about it too much more, opting to sit and pick at the bars of your cell as a distraction.

-

Just over an hour later, Han is back at your cell with a ring of keys in his shaky hands. After a few tries, he drops the keys and you're on your feet in an instant, sticking your hand through the bars to grab his hand as he tries a new key. He's looking at you now, eyes darting toward the door as he attempts to even his breathing. You squeeze his hand, a way to reassure him that everything will be okay, even if you don't know that for sure.

"I think someone knows," Han blurts. "I think someone saw me sneaking out of Captain Kim's office with Minho."

"Then we need to hurry," You say, keeping your voice calm. "If they're onto us, we need to be able to get out of here before they can find us, okay? That means you have to calm down. I know it isn't easy, but you have to try."

He takes a deep breath, sticking the final key in the lock. A click sounds and your cell door swings open, allowing you to finally leave the cage you've inhabited over the last few days. Han quickly releases Chaeryeong and speeds over to the door, taking a look outside before opening it wider to let you two out ahead of him. Changbin is right outside and you jump at the sight of him.

"Thanks for the help," You say, avoiding eye contact as he leads you through the dark halls.

Changbin opens a door into what looks like a storage closet. "I owe it to you, and to Squad Leader Lee."

"Is he- how is he?" You pause, knowing you shouldn't.

"He's..." Changbin kneels down to push aside a threadbare rug to reveal a trap door not unlike the one in the cottage, easily opening it with one hand and stepping to the side. "He's surviving. Did he not-"

"Traitors."

The one word is enough to make you all turn around to see Officer Song staring at you with narrow eyes, red in the face. With a gun in one hand and some kind of hand-held radio in the other, he's calling for backup in no time. As he raises the weapon at your group, you're diving down the hole and running right when your feet hit the ground. You catch a glimpse of the others when you take a look behind you, seeing that Changbin has joined the escape. The tunnels are musty and rough, with hard dirt and clay making up the walls and ceilings. Multiple tunnels diverge from the one you're running down, but you continue to go straight with no real direction. You have no idea where you're going, only that you need to keep moving.

"Turn up there!" Changbin shouts from behind you; he's closer than the others, his footsteps catching up to yours.

Doing as he says, you turn right where the pathway curves, but you're met with a hard wall of a person, causing you to stumble backward. Han wasn't able to grab a weapon for you, so you raise your fists in defense. Past your hands, you make eye contact with Minho and freeze, spotting Squad Leader Seo behind him in your peripheral vision. There's still shouting behind you, but you can't move; the world has slowed and it's just you and him staring at each other.

"I guess there's no talking you out of this now," Minho says. "They're on your trail."

"Yeah," You say, barely breathing. "You should leave before they find you with us, both of you."

Squad Leader Seo shakes her head. "I'm not leaving my brother."

"Okay." You start walking again, then jogging. "There- a door!"

A heavy door sits at the end of the tunnel, but as you approach you notice the giant sign- DO NOT OPEN! INFECTED QUARTERS!

"I just had a genius idea," you say. There are two other pathways leading away from the door and you notice an arrow pointing down one side, signaling an alternate exit, which sparks a plan. "We need to get this thing open, then bolt, but we have to time this perfectly."

"Are you insane?" Squad Leader Seo moves past you, beginning down the other path. "We'll all get killed. Better to just get out while we still can."

"C'mon! Yeah, it's risky, so is this whole damn escape!" You throw your arms up in frustration. "It's going to open toward us, blocking us out of sight. Any infected behind that door are going to go for the people straight in front of them, aka, the people who want to kill us. They're already catching up, this'll buy us time!"

"I guess you have a point," She sighs. "But that door is heavy, it'll take all of us-"

"So we'd better get started, because it looks like they're here." Minho grabs the top of the large metal door handle, nodding his head to the end of the tunnel you came from.

Grabbing the bottom, you help him pull. Changbin comes between you, sweat beading on your brow bone from the effort. The door creaks and groans loudly as it opens and you can already hear hissing and growling from behind. Once it's about halfway open, it swings the rest of the way easily, stopping right where you thought it would. Next to you, Han and Squad Leader Seo are firing at the approaching soldiers, quickly stopping as the door shelters you from the fight about to begin. Using the door as cover, you take a minute to breathe. There are people shouting from beyond the door, mixing with the terrifying noises of the zombies you've unleashed upon them. When you hear a squelching sound, your feet move on their own away from fight.

At the end of the tunnel, there's a trap door leading up, rusty metal bars sticking out of the dirt wall to form a ladder. Minho goes first, placing a hand on your shoulder before you can head up. Distant growls and shooting become quieter as you climb up next, Chaeryeong following after you. Squad Leader Seo doesn't bother closing the trap door behind her, staring down into the darkness before walking toward the group.

The tunnel seems to have opened up a bit further than you'd have thought, right on the path of a worn patrol route. In the distance, you can see a few buildings signaling the beginning of a town, and you think it may be the same one you found Lily in. There's a road to your left and some woods right behind you, the trap door right at the tree line. From here, you can make your way back through or around the town and meet where the truck is supposed to be, if it's still there.

"Han, is the-"

Crack. The sound of a gunshot rings through the still air, the sound of a body dropping right by your feet; you're scared to see who it is. There are a few more clicks of a gun and a frustrated groan before you turn slowly to see a bloody and bitten Officer Song tossing an empty gun away. His body is halfway out of the trapdoor, one arm torn to shreds. Without medical attention, he'll bleed out, if he doesn't turn first.

"Traitors." Officer Song repeats his earlier words. Looking down, you see Changbin hovering over his sister's body, a hole in the center of her forehead. Lifeless eyes stare past you into the trees. "You had such potential."

Minho is gritting his teeth, to keep some choice words at bay you assume. His body is moving without thinking, stomping up to Officer Song and yanking his head back by the hair to look him in the eye. Watching as Minho glares down at the older man, you slowly approach. The level of hate in his eyes is something you've never seen before, almost scaring you like you're the one he's killing over and over again in his mind.

"Kill me," Officer Song taunts. "Coward."

The last straw, calling Minho a coward. A knife is at his throat in seconds, but you're holding his arm back before he can slice.

"Don't," You say, stern. "Drop the knife, Min, he's not worth it. Let him turn and suffer that pain. He deserves it."

There's a moment when Minho tries to tug his arm out of your grip, but you know he's not putting much strength into it. Slowly, his hand is back at his side, knife falling to the ground. With one last look, he spits at the ground by Officer Song. You're back to where Changbin has now picked up his sister, his eyes red and puffy as he avoids your gaze. Taking a deep breath, he nods and you start to lead the group across the road. You can hear Officer Song laughing behind you.

"Stupid girl."

"Y/n!" The sound of Chaeryeong's voice makes you spin around just in time to see the knife Minho left flying your way, but it doesn't hit you.

"No-" Chaeryeong collapses against you and you look over her shoulder; the weapon is embedded in her back, right between the wings on her graphic tee. "Chaer, no, why- why would you do that?"

You gently fall to the ground, cupping her face with one hand, the other around her waist to keep her up. Han has appeared by your side with a panicked look on his face, his own hands coming up to brush stray hairs away. There's a smile on her face as a tear falls from one of her eyes.

"I can't feel my legs." She gasps, the smile dropping for a second. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"You're not going to die-" Han says, voice shaking, although you both know the truth.

"Don't lie to me Jisung," She looks at him and laughs, followed by a cough. "Not- not now. Please."

"Chaer, you can't die." Han's voice breaks, and you save him the humility of seeing him cry by focusing on the girl in your arms. "Y-you can't, you can't die. We'll save you, Felix and Jeongin will patch you up and save you like they did Hyunjin and-"

"Ji, I can't feel anything."

There's blood on her face from where you've trailed your fingers down her jaw, a small trickle coming from the corner of her mouth the next time she coughs. Although you haven't known her as long as the others, your heart aches severely watching the light fade from her eyes. Soon, she's motionless in your lap, angel wings painted a deep red. Your eyes make contact with the knife and anger consumes you, pulling it gently out of her back and standing up.

Officer Song is lying with his cheek to the ground, but you know he's still alive by the way his chest rises and falls. His eyes are closed until you kick him in the chest to make him lie flat, eyelids shooting open in pain. Before he can speak, your boot is on his neck hard. You crouch down, keeping your foot in place as you watch him smile.

"You think you're so fucking funny?" You hiss, voice laced with venom. "You won't be laughing when this knife is down your fucking throat."

Removing your foot, you drive the blade at the exposed skin of his neck and drag it down, blood flooding on either side of him. He's choking, one hand weakly trying to stop the bleeding. You see the life leave his face, the final twitch of his fingers; you can't stop staring until someone is pulling you away. Stumbling back, you let Minho bring you to the others. You can feel blood drying on your hands and face. Han is holding Chaeryeong, and you wish you'd have let Minho kill Officer Song.

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notes ▪︎ erm.. pls don't hate me 🙏

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hannieslittlerockstar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u @moonlightjam @hannieslovebot @minmininnie @8lives1heart @skzswife @emi-han @alisonyus

green means i can't tag you!

[siriusleee]

vii. goats

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳WORD COUNT: 1.6K ↳TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on.nc-17. ↳AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, as promised, an update. Not as promised, a timely or long one. ↳TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

You try to keep up with Ghost, but you're still bruised and broken. He loses you easily; it irritates you to think that he had been humoring and allowing you to keep up with him. But you limp behind him, allowing yourself to indulge in curiosity for the first time in a long time. You emerge into the weak sunlight, squinting as your eyes adjust. It seems like everyone from the compound is standing outside, guns and eyes trained on the gate.

They swing open, a heavy truck pulling in slowly. You try to catch a glimpse of them, but it's lightning in your leg to try and stand on your tiptoes.

"That's the advanced guard coming back."

Your heart stutters in your throat as you jump from Doc's words. She's appeared at your elbow, shirt sleeves pushed up around her elbows.

"The advanced guard?"

Doc nods, eyes trained on the crowd.

"When this all first started, the government's main goal was to keep the peace. After that, their goal became reunification of whoever was out there. These guys are still operating under that order."

"So they go out and search for other little pockets of communities? Do they ever find any?"

Doc shakes her head.

"Not any worth sticking with."

She sights, before jerking her head like she's remembered something important. She digs in her pocket, pulling out two more little white pills. 

"I tried to find you this morning to give you these. Come by the next few days when you wake up to come grab them."

The pills feel like weights in your hand and all of a sudden your dizzy again by what this place is. Years, fucking years, you'd been half starved in the forest, watching the few people you could cobble together die of starvation and sickness and cold. And here was this place all pristine and perfect and with fucking antibiotics. How many of your group could have been saved if you would have known this was here? How many names would you be able to remember without feeling like there was a kick in the chest. 

Doc seems to understand your feeling because as she starts to walk away, she nods at you to follow. You feel the pills break in half beneath the grip you have on them, and you follow, not sure what else to do. Doc waits until the two of you are back in front of the mess hall, farther away from the advanced guard before she starts talking again.

"I'm sure Ghost told you everyone here gets a job; can I ask what you did before this?"

"I was a midwife back when I lived in the United States. When I moved here, I had to work in the front office at a dental office."

Doc hums, eyebrows high.

"A midwife? You can deliver babies?"

"Well it's been a very long time, but yes technically. I'd need the supplies though, and I can't help if the lady needs a C-section."

"Well, we'll find something for you to do here."

"Who's in charge here, by the way? I would have thought whoever was in charge would have wanted to meet me or something."

"We don't have one person in charge exactly. Ghost and Soap were the lead trainers back in the day, and they certainly listen to what I tell them because if they want to be sewn up they have to be nice. We're more like a democracy."

“A democracy cannot exist as a permanent form of government. It can only exist until the voters discover that they can vote themselves largesse from the public treasury," you say, the quote slipping from you without any thought at all. It suprises you that you remember it - that you can remember a morning sitting in your dad’s classroom while he wrote down what he was going to say that day. It rushes over you, and with everything else, nearly takes your knees out from underneath you. 

"What's the from?" Doc asks, eyebrows nearly disappearing into her short hair. 

"I don't remember - my father was a History teacher. I've got a thousand quotes I remember him saying, but I can't remember what they come from."

You can’t remember much, anymore. You don’t want to - don’t want to think about your parents and if they’re alright. You’ll never find out. Those last days, you’d tried to get a hold of them. Planes had been grounded - they were forced to after multiple crash landed when someone reanimated mid-flight and created terror - and you knew as the news did their best to quell everyone’s terror, that you’d never make it back home. You would never see your parents again, so you’d tried to call them. But the phone had only rang and rang until eventually it didn’t ring at all. And then everything really fell apart, and you had so much blood on your hands before you had to leave home already. 

Doc’s face softens as she takes in your silence, her hands buried in her pocket. 

"Well - let's get you something to take those pills with."

The goat bleats at you as you push it away with your knee. You recognize the stubbornness in its eye as it thinks about head butting you, but changes its mind as it huffs away to chew at a small patch of grass.

There hadn’t been any jobs that were open, that were needed for a civilian type like you with a still healing leg to do. But Doc had suggested your knowledge of delivering babies could be transferred over to the animals. “How different can it really be?” She’d asked - explaining that she’d only had a few experiences with birth during her training, and they’d lost quite a few of the animals in the past years.

You didn’t mind. The animals didn’t stare at you like you were a freak, an outsider like the rest of the compound. You didn’t feel the need to be on edge around them. The chickens cluck at you, annoyed as you sweep them back towards the coop, their feathers rustling in annoyance with you as you shut the door behind them and flip the lock to keep them in for the night. In the sky, the sun is growing heavy, sinking down lower and lower each minute.

You study the soldiers posted on the edge of the fence; you wonder if any of them ever get the idea to just walk off into the wilderness and see what else is out there. You wonder if they've seen as much of the country as you have in the past few years, if they -

A low whistle breaks you from your thoughts. At the gate, a burly man stands, gun slung across his chest. You can make out the shape of him clearly in the dusk, all sharp angles and worn down edges - a hint of warmth in the darkness. He's the one who's been walking around with Ghost the past week, the man Ghost had been ignoring your for- his grin a start contrast to the furrowed brows Ghost wears everyday.

"Time to switch little Dove."

[siriusly-yoongi]

She wants to be saved chapter 1

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

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Pairing: alpha BTS × omega reader

Chapter Warnings: I don't really know what to put for warnings, bad writing, likely inaccurate medical information, injuries, blood, abuse, stabbing, mute reader, POV changes, brief suicidal thoughts

Word count: 2145

It's not written very well, I haven't written in years so bare with me while I get back into it. I promise it'll get better😭

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They we're a complete pack, made up of seven alphas, all mates. They had everything they could've needed. At least they thought they did.

They have a large house and a tight bond. That's all they needed really. Namjoon is a doctor at the local hospital, Jin is a police officer, and Jimin is a paramedic. That was enough to support the 7 of them so the rest didn't have to work. However most of them chose to, to fill their time.

Yoongi made music when he had time, he had a decent following as well. Hoseok ran a little flower shop, Taehyung worked part time at a small café downtown, and jungkook was a personal trainer.

Everything was good.

Until it wasn't.

It was a just a regular old Tuesday, it's early April, the spring air still a bit chilly. Jimin was in the back of his ambulance trying to slow the bleeding from a chest wound on a little omega. It's not everyday he gets what appear to be stab wounds, but it's nothing he hasn't dealt with before. Jimin is so focused on controlling the bleeding that he doesn't have time to really notice much else about the omega.

Once they arrive at the hospital, Jimin hands her over to the doctors and goes about his day, heading off to help whoever needed it next. He didn't think much about her, she wasn't anything special, just another patient.

Namjoon sees the same omega, working to slow the bleeding and stitch up the wound. She has a stab wound to the chest, it just barely missed her heart or any major arteries.

Once she's stable and patched up, Namjoon has a chance to properly look at her. She's tiny, her ribs poking out underneath her skin. He notices bruises on her arms and neck, they're faded, old injuries that hadn't fully healed yet. She's short too, tiny in all aspects of the word. He couldn't smell her, she must be wearing scent blockers. He was too, working in a hospital he had to. She has beautiful long hair, but it's a mess of tangles and blood.

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YOU

You groan softly as your eyes flutter open, wincing as the bright light hurts your eyes. It takes you a few minutes to remember what happened, you broke up with your alpha and he didn't take it well.

"You're leaving me because I 'hurt' you?" He made air quotes around the word hurt, like he hadn't been putting his hands on you for months

"I'll show you how I can hurt you"

He didn't give you a chance to respond before he was lunging at you. You didn't realize what was happening at first. The adrenaline masked what should've been agonizing pain.

You stumble back, looking down to see blood quickly seeping into your shirt and dripping down your chest and stomach.

He shoves you out the door, telling you not to come back. Only then did you actually feel the pain. You screamed, clutching your chest as tears roll down your cheeks. A neighbor heard and called 911. You don't remember much after that

The back of your neck itches, you sigh and reach up to pull off the little patch. Your ex always made you wear scent blockers, saying your scent was too strong, too disgusting. You believed him now, after all he'd been telling you for over a 2 years now. But right now you can't bring yourself to care, the adhesive made you itchy and with the pain radiating from your chest right now, the last thing you needed was to be itchy as well.

A doctor walks in with a smile on his face, dressed in a white coat, no scent, like all doctors. He's tall, pretty good looking you'd say if you weren't in so much pain

"Hello, it's great to see you're awake. I'm Dr. K-" He cuts off mid sentence, freezing as his eyes snap up to meet yours.

You quickly look down. You knew better than to look an alpha in the eyes, you assume he's an alpha, most doctors are. Nurses are often betas, though not always, it was a safe guess.

The doctor is silent for a few moments, but he quickly recovers

"Sorry about that, I'm Dr. Kim. We didn't find any ID on you, could you tell us your name" his voice was calming, making you smile a little.

The smile quickly fades though. For some reason the thought of speaking sends a wave of anxiety and panic through your body. You try to ignore it, opening your mouth to try and state your name, but you can't get any sound to come out. You shake your head after a few seconds, opting to just stay quiet. It had been drilled into your brain to keep quiet, so you barely spoke as it was. It was safer to stay silent.

Dr.Kim frowns, "Would you like a pen and paper?"

You nod and he leaves, coming back a few minutes later with a notebook and a pen. He hands them to you and you write your name down on the paper

Y/N

You turn the notebook around and show him

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

JIMIN

I'd just finished my shift and I knew Namjoon would be finishing soon so I walked into the hospital and decided to wait for him.

I find him pacing back and forth in an empty hallway

"Joon?" I call out to him, quickly making my way over, my voice laced with concern.

His head snaps up and he pulls me into a tight hug. As much as I loved affection from my pack alpha, he wasn't the type to do this at his place of work, he always stayed professional. Something's wrong.

I pull away and before I can speak, Namjoon does.

"We have another mate" he almost whispers, and I feel myself freeze.

"What?" I heard him, I'm just not sure i believe him.

He pushes me along with him as he starts walking, his hand on my lower back "I know," he mumbles.

He leads me to a room and knocks on the door before entering. I freeze as I step into the room, my heart racing as her scent hits me. She smells like cookie dough, and like home. All mates smell like home. What that means to each person is a little different, but the meaning is all the same.

I don't get much time to look at her before Namjoon pulls me back out of the room. A low growl is pulled from my chest, but I'm quickly silenced with a stern look from the pack alpha.

"You can't just pull me away after finding our mate I need t-"

"She doesn't know" he cuts me off.

"Wait what"

He sighs "She just got out of a bad situation, she wouldn't tell me much but considering her ex stabbed her, it wasn't good"

I grumble, quietly seething at the thought of my mate being hurt by some prick. If I ever find this guy, he's dead. I'm gonna rip out his t-

"Minnie," Joon breaks me out of my thoughts "Don't go there Jimin" he gives me a knowing look. My temper has gotten me in trouble more than a few times

"But she looks so fragile, how could someone do that to her. To anyone!" I was angry, and thank God for scent blockers otherwise this whole place would smell like smoke, thick black smoke.

"She's terrified, babe. She won't speak, she flinches any time someone gets close, and she about has a panic attack any time somebody tries to touch her"

"So don't touch her!" I shout, not meaning to. I'm just so angry

"Babe. You know we have to. We have to do our jobs" he tries to reason with me, and I sigh, doing my best to calm down as I take a few deep breaths.

"I know i just... we have an omega... and someone hurt her" I'm sure I look and sound pathetic, whining up at my pack alpha while leaning against his side like a child. At least I'm not hurting anyone, okay.

"Have you told the rest of the pack" I ask, he shakes his head.

"I'll tell them in a little while, first we have to talk to her"

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Once I've calmed down, Namjoon takes off my scent blocker and tells me to go back into her room. We're gonna let her realize it herself.

As soon as I walk in her head snaps up, she was doodling in the notebook Namjoon had given her. Cute.

Her eyes go wide and she just stares at me. I don't approach her, ignoring the pull I feel to run over and pull her into my arms. I want to fix this, I need to fix this. Someone hurt my mate and there's no one there to hold her and make it better. But Joon told me to keep my distance unless she tells me to come closer, so i stay away.

Her cookie dough scent quickly turns into very strong burnt cookies.

And before I can react, she's gone.

Shit.

"NAMJOON!"

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

YOU

Your head snaps up, eyes wide and heart pounding in your chest. Mate. Mate, mate, mate. Your brain is screaming at you. You should be happy, elated. But you're not. Your blood runs cold and all you feel is complete and utter terror.

You don't know this man, he's gonna want you to come home with him and what if he's like your ex. What if he's like your parents. No, no, no this can't be happening. He's gonna think he has some sort of claim over you and you can't have that.

You're on your feet and bolting past him before you even realize what you're doing. You ignore the burning pain in your chest as your feet carry you through the halls. You come to a door and rush through it. It brings you out onto a large open balcony type place. There's a few chairs and tables spread out, no one else is out here.

You hear footsteps quickly approaching the door and ignoring your inability to take a breath without pain, you run again. Only you have nowhere to go. You stop at the edge, there's a railing there, keeping anyone from falling down onto the street below. You look over the edge, its dark outside now, how long were you knocked out? Doesn't matter.

It's pretty, you'd enjoy the lights and the view of the city if it were under different circumstances. The door slams open and Dr. Kim and that other guy run out onto the balcony.

They shout something toward you but you don't process the words. You just stare down at the ground below the ledge. You're up really high. You could always climb over the railing. It would keep you from getting hurt again.

Just do it, that little voice in the back of your head chants at you. It's your only way out, you can't run back to the door and you don't want to deal with whatshisface and Dr.Kim.

You go to lift yourself over the railing, but before you can even get both hands on the rails arms wrap around you and pull you back against someone's chest.

You're surrounded by a crackling campfire. Whatshisface.

"Don't you dare!" His voice shakes, he sounds scared. Why is he scared?

You thrash and struggle in his hold but it's useless, he's much bigger and stronger than you are.

All the movement causes a few of your stitches to break open and blood starts to drip down your body once again.

"Joon! She's bleeding!" He sounds just as panicked as you feel.

You zone out, blocking out your surroundings as you're carried back to your room. Dr. Kim tries to talk to you but it sounds fuzzy and distant.

He gives up after a while.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

The next thing you remember is whatshisface coming back into your room and light filtering in through the windows. Wait when did the sun come up? Shit, you've been disassociating for hours.

"Y/N" he tries, tone cautious as he sits down by the window.

When you don't try and run again he smiles a little "I'm Jimin. I won't hurt you i promise. We're mates." He says this like it's meant to reassure you. It doesn't.

You nod anyway. Being submissive and obedient always works out better in the long run. So you do.

"Namjoon- or, Dr.Kim sorry, is also our mate.." he says this nervously, like he expects you to run again. You feel your heart stop and bile rise in your throat, but you don't run.

"There are 7 of us" he continues. You sit frozen, body rigid. This can't be real.

You don't want this.

[hobiesgeorg]

Don't Think

Why Are We Like This - Ch. 3 > Ch. 4

Looking for Ch 2? It's here!

Hobie Brown / Spiderpunk x Transmasc!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no physical description of Y/N (except vague outfit mention), Y/N implied to be transmasculine, established friends with benefits relationship, mutual pining, platonic fluff, slowburn fic, TW food mention.

A/N: This chapter is on the short-ish end, but the next chapter is 3.3k words... so bear with me.

You feel like shit. The kind of feeling like shit where you aren't sure if you've just gotten the best sleep of your life or the worst, and you almost don't want to find out. You have no choice though, because Kam won't stop knocking on your door until you open it and give them proof of life.

Your joints ache as you force yourself off of the thin motel mattress. As you make your way to the door, you hope that you look better than you feel. Not that it matters. You've known Kam forever and you've both seen the worst of each other, you suppose. So, in your ratty shorts and faded t-shirt, you open the door for your best friend.

"What time is it?" you sound like you have an entire family of frogs living in your throat.

"Nine thirty. Do you want breakfast? Mattea's trying to make pancakes from scratch in the microwave." Kam steps forward, pushing their way into the room as if you'd invited them.

"That sounds disgusting."

You make your way to your backpack and rifle for a fresh shirt and a passably clean pair of pants.

"It will be. I have some granola bars in my bag." Kam sits on the edge of your bed. You turn your back to them and work on changing.

"How long's the drive today?"

"Seven hours if you include bathroom breaks. Karl's driving the first stretch and wants us heading out in an hour."

You grumble at the thought as you button your pants and shove your dirty clothes back into the bag. Touring is great, and all, but being stuck in the van only feels a touch better than being stuck back at work.

"So, what's going on with you and Hobie lately?" Kam asks, skipping all segue or subtlety.

You choke and you swear your face feels warm. You refuse to meet their eyes and instead start tugging sheets out from under them. You'd like to make things quick and easy for the motel employees if you can.

"Nothing you don't already know about," you shrug, brushing the question off the best you can.

"Really? Because things seemed real tense when I brought over your keys last night."

You huff and zip up your backpack, "I'm not doing this again. You know we're just friends, if that, and you know that's all either of us want."

Kam sighs and shakes their head, "Alright. I guess I'll see you in 'Tea's room for breakfast."

"I'll be there in a minute." you promise.

They stand and blow you a dramatic kiss before they leave. To your dismay, they don't take the weight of the question with them. 'What's going on with you and Hobie?', nothing! You know that. He knows that. They should know that too. It's not like your deal is something absurd or out of character for any of you. Why is everyone so obsessed with making it more than it is?

You find yourself gripping a pillow far too tight and realize you need to leave. Maybe Mattea was right about being left with your own thoughts. Thinking too much was never a good idea.

With your bag stuffed full, you venture out into the parking lot. It looks different in daylight. Less mysterious, but just as remote. Far out of your comfort zone of crowded streets and packed venues.

You stand in the open space looking around in an attempt to retrace your steps. You have no clue where you are or how to get back towards the van. You paid no attention to how you got here because you were too busy worrying over holding Hobie's hand and noting every time he looked at you. You try looking down at the gravel. Maybe you'll recognize a patch of weeds growing through the rocks. With each step the idea sounds more ridiculous. After some time, you resolve to put no more thought into the process and instead walk until you figure it out. The building only has four sides and the van has to be on one of them.

It's the howling laughter from an open doorway that ends up guiding your way. Your head snaps towards the sound and your eyes catch the sight of Hobie in the distance. His arms are full of luggage that never should have been unpacked as he lugs it over to load it up once more. You pick up your pace, rocks flying high into the air behind you as you sprint through the gravel. When you reach the door you find Kam spread out on the floor. Next to them is Riri, camera raised and pointed towards Karl perched on the counter as Mattea approaches him with a spoonful of beige goop.

"Here comes the airplane!" Mattea coos, shoving the spoon in his face.

Karl's mouth twists in disgust and he leans back, "You think I want a fuckin' airplane in my mouth?"

Tea freezes, looks down at the spoon, then back at Karl.

"Here comes the dick?" she tries, plastering feigned confusion over barely contained laughter.

Karl reaches behind him, searching for something to throw. He grabs hold of a mug and launches it at Mattea's head. She takes a beat to sense it coming her way and ducks at the last second. Raw pancake batter sprays across the counter as the mug shatters against the wall.

Riri gasps and Kam bursts into giggles. You don't budge from your spot in the doorway. You're afraid of looking too amused and becoming Karl's next target.

"Guys! We can't afford to be banned from any more motels!" Riri scolds, dropping her phone and rushing over to pick up pieces of broken ceramic.

"Sorry," Karl mumbles.

He drops down from his spot on the counter and steps around Mattea who's still cackling on the floor. Your space is suddenly invaded as Hobie joins you in the doorway.

"How are the pancakes going?" he asks, as if the scene in front of him doesn't make the answer clear enough.

He's sweaty, sticky, and out of breath. You wonder how long he's been repacking the van, and why it was unpacked in the first place. His whole body looks tired. From the bend in his knees to the slump of his shoulders to the laziness of his smirk.

"Chocolate chip or peanut butter?" Kam holds two granola bars out to him in answer to his question. Hobie snatches one from them and they hand you the other.

"Alright." Riri walks over with a confidence that pushes both you and Hobie out of the way before she reaches you, "I'm going to the van before I can be an accomplice to any more property destruction."

"Everything's loaded up and ready to go," Hobie tells her.

"It's Mattea's turn to ride shotgun, but I don't want her up there. She'll probably grab the wheel and run us off a cliff." Karl's whining carries all the way from the room to the van.

"I'll take her spot!" Kam sprints through the door after him.

'Tea follows, duffel bag hoisted over her shoulder, "You're locking up 'Bie!"

"Got it!" Hobie swipes his vest off of a hook just inside the room before pulling the door closed with a 'thunk'. "'m gonna run back room keys and get us all checked out, if you wanna pass me yours? Unless you wanna come with me." He winks for emphasis.

"Oh, thanks!" you smile, holding your key out in an open hand.

He nods and his fingers brush your palm as he scoops up the key. He makes the choice to back away, looking you in the eye until you turn to head towards the van.

"Don't drive off without me!" he shouts.

You laugh and give him a thumbs up, "I'll do what I can!"

[thetriumphantpanda]

Delicate - Chapter Two: Maroon

3.7k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: despite some last minute reservations about meeting Joel, you throw yourself into the date, but it doesn't go according to plan.

A/N: Ahhhhh oh my God - @hellishjoel and I are so excited to bring you the second chapter of Delicate! We're having the best time with this little pairing already and we hope they manage to worm their way into your hearts just like they have with us! We're taking turns in posting the chapters of this - so please make sure you're following both of us to keep up to date!

warnings: mentions of being a single parents, rom-com vibes, foul language, a bestie who is nothing but trouble, Joel being terrible at dating in general, a lil smattering of angst, mentions of food & alcohol consumption.

There’s a flow of peace that settles across you when the door to Noah’s room clicks shut. You love him, he’s the best thing that ever happened to you, and he keeps you afloat every day, but these moments, when he’s finally asleep and you can stop thinking for a minute, are the moments you crave each day. 

You settle down on the couch, mug of tea in hand, with the TV playing quietly, just for background noise more than anything, as you pick up your phone for the first time that evening. There’s a few emails, mainly about shopping sales and holidays that you think you should book but never do - those are quickly deleted to stop any temptation of spending money on something that isn’t essential. There are a few messages from your mom, just confirming that she’ll pick Noah up from school tomorrow, what she’s planned for them to do and what she’ll feed him. You shoot a message off in reply that it all sounds good and that he’s excited for some quality time with his grandparents, because it’s true, and then you set your phone down on the coffee table and try to ignore it for a while. 

You finish your tea and queue up a few episodes of a show you’ve been meaning to catch up on - something mindless that people at work always seem to talk about. So mindless that it actually sends you to sleep. You wake with a jolt a few hours later. The house is still quiet, which means Noah hasn’t decided he’s still got too much energy and needs to burn it off by jumping on the bed or pulling some of his toys out. You sigh, checking the time to see it’s almost midnight. 

You gather your stuff, put the mug in the sink to deal with in the morning before trudging up to bed. There’s a moment at the top of the stairs, where you think it would be so easy to flop down on the bed and forgo the rest of your responsibilities, but you’ve got your mother’s voice in the back of your mind, something about wrinkles and pores and how bad it is to sleep in your makeup, so you turn left into the bathroom, cover your skin in serums and creams and then finally, just after midnight, you fall into bed. 

Knowing it’s bad to look at your phone this late at night, once you’ve set your alarm, you click open the godforsaken Hinge app that Dixie had insisted on setting you up on. So far, after six months, you’d been on a fair few first dates, three second dates and had a God awful one night stand, but nothing had been sticking, no-one seemed to be exactly what you were looking for. You’d promised her that you’d try though, so as had become a nightly ritual for you, you set about giving away your daily likes, not really paying a huge amount of attention until he pops up for you. Joel. 45. From his first profile picture, the exact kind of man you’d been searching for. Rugged, handsome, 

Of the few photos he had on his profile, he was often donning a flannel or a simple short-sleeved shirt that curved around his biceps and broad shoulders. He always wore the same tilted smile, with dazzling eyes and dark hair with licks of silver. He was a handsome lumberjack of sorts. 

He looked to be an outdoorsman, at least two of Joel’s pictures were of him hiking a trail accompanied by a young girl, surrounded by greenery and tall rocks with the sunshine peeking through the branches. His face was glowing and tan from the light, his handsomeness so natural. Beautiful, even. 

Joel’s “Typical Sunday” consisted of a black coffee in the morning, followed by making burgers on the grill for him and his family before settling down to watch a Dallas Cowboys football game. That was a typical Sunday for a man, but it showed how he liked to unwind and that he was a family man. 

First, the mention of a family, plus that beautiful young woman in almost all of Joel’s pictures - a daughter, perhaps? Older than your own boy by quite a few years. He must have been on the younger side of having children if any of these assumptions were even correct. But there was something about knowing he also had a baby to be thinking of felt familiar, comforting, as they would always come first. 

 And it turns out that talking to him is pretty easy too. He’s charming, a slight insomniac like you, and from what you can tell from the slight back and forth you managed to have before you go to sleep, able to flirt a little with you too. It’s why when he asks to take you out you say yes without hesitation, it could be fun, he could be the one, who knows? 

Mornings are always chaos. Half-eaten bowls of cereal on the table, a mug of coffee made with the best of intentions but sat to go cold, a rush of getting Noah dressed and in the car with everything he needed for school and then the annoyance of getting stuck in traffic on the way to drop him off, all coalesce to make you stressed as you help Noah out of the backseat. 

“Remember granny is picking you up this afternoon okay?” You ask, bending down to kiss his cheek as he fiddles with the straps of his backpack. 

“I know, mom.” He groans, using the back of his hand to wipe the kiss off his cheek. 

You smile, ruffle his hair a bit, because no matter how much he might protest, he will always be your baby, “Behave for her, okay?” You warn lightly with a smile, “She’ll bring you back home tomorrow.” 

Noah spots some of his friends across the playground and steps around you to make his way into school. You turn, hold your hand up in a wave and shout at him to have a good day. Noah turns, walking backwards to look at you, waving right back. 

“Have a good day, mom!” 

Underneath the way he’s growing up, he’s still the sweet little boy you knew you could raise on your own. You sit back in your car, picking your phone up to make sure you’ve got enough time to go to the store and stock up on some groceries, when you notice a notification from Hinge. It’s Joel. 

Just checking you’re still okay for tonight? 

For some reason, you sit and stare at it for a few minutes, fingers itching to type something, to confirm, but there’s that usual seed of doubt that appears after all this time that makes you want to tell him something’s come up, you’ll have to reschedule. After months and months of trying to find someone, to failed first date after failed first date, you wonder if it really is worth it, no matter how good of a match Joel Miller seems on paper. Is he really going to be worth getting dressed up for? You sigh, type out your usual message of I’m sorry, I think I might have to reschedule, when the screen is filled with the face of your best friend, trying to call you. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello sexy mama!” Dixie’s voice immediately soothes you, “How are you this fine morning?” 

“I’m okay,” You speak softly, plugging the phone into the car so you can speak to her as you drive, “Just dropped Noah off at school.” 

“How is my favourite man?” She asks. 

“Yeah, he’s good, he’s staying with my mom tonight so I think he’s just pleased to be away from me for a while.” 

“It’s like the universe read my mind!” Dixie exclaims on the other end of the phone, “Do you want to go out and get wine drunk tonight?” 

You stutter for a second, because you could, you could cancel with Joel, go out and drink cheap wine and dance with your friend, but before you can say anything, Dixie picks up on your hesitation. 

“OH MY GOD!” She all but screeches, “Do you have a hot date tonight?!” 

You grumble a little, because how is she always so attuned to you like this? 

“Yeah, although I don’t know if I’m gonna go.” 

“Why not?” 

You sigh again, “I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore?” You offer. 

“Girl, get outta here with that attitude!” She chastises, “Is he hot?” 

You grumble a little again, but you can’t deny it, Joel is hot, “Yes.” 

“Well then,” You can hear her clap her hands in the background, clearly having you on speaker so she can go about her business, “If he’s hot, then there’s no harm in it, forget me and my wine, go out, drink wine with your hot mystery stranger and get fucked, girl!” 

“Dixie!” You screech, “I’m not fucking him.” 

“Whatever you say, girl!” She shouts down the phone, “If you cancel, I’m kicking your ass, okay?” You sigh, once again, something you’re getting more and more used to these days, “Have fun and be safe!” 

And then all you can hear is the dial tone from where she’s hung up on you. You think about it all the way around the grocery store, she wouldn’t know if you did cancel, would she? But you’ve known her long enough to know she’d sniff a lie out of you in seconds. So, when you settle down at your desk, you pull out your phone and send Joel a reply to confirm the plans you made last night, and then spend the rest of the work day trying not to work yourself up about the whole thing. 

You don’t think that the anxiety of waiting for a date to show up will ever get easier. Stood just inside the doorway of the restaurant Joel had chosen, you’re chewing at the skin around your thumbnail. Did you dress right? Do you look okay? When he turns up will he look like his pictures or not? Will he lean in for a kiss on the cheek? Do you give him a hug? You’d like to think of yourself as a seasoned pro at this now, but those first few awkward moments always made you anxious - there was no second chance at first impressions. 

You needn’t have worried about Joel though. When the door opens and he stands in front of you, he is exactly the man you’d studied on that app. Taller than you, broad and big. Scruff, peppered with gray across his face, though it’s neatly kept, just like this hair, although more unruly, it’s still peppered with grays and it suits him. He’s wearing dark jeans, and a flannel that you think must be saved for best. You step closer, open your arms. Joel leans down, and does indeed press a kiss to your cheek, one of his wide palms pressed lightly on your lower back as he hugs you back a little. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel.” You smile when he pulls away. 

“You too, ma’am.” He smiles back at you, and you can tell he’s nervous. 

“What have I told you about that?” You tease as you step towards the hostess, Joel giving her his name, you hope the slight teasing will put him at ease, you remember just what it was like when you started dating for the first time, and as much as you want to have a good time, you want to make sure Joel is having a good time too. 

She picks up two menus, leads the two of you to a table at the edge of the restaurant. Joel pulls your chair out for you, pushing it gently under you as you sit down. The light is low, and there’s a thrum of chatter across the whole restaurant as you open the menu, glancing your eyes over the choices. 

“Do you want to share a bottle of wine?” You ask, finger skimming the list of wines available. 

Joel nods, “Sure thing, darlin’.” 

You smile, looking down at the menu, deciding you much prefer darling to ma’am, especially in that sweet southern drawl of his. When the waitress returns, you both order food and a bottle of wine, which is quickly brought to the table, uncorked, with the dark red liquid poured into two glasses. The waitress leaves the bottle on the table as you raise your glass, Joel following suit, clinking them together before you take a sip. 

You’re watching as he does the same, a smaller sip than you, and then watch as his nose crinkles and he coughs a little. It makes you laugh, putting your glass down to cover your mouth a little. 

“Dunno why I said yes,” He shakes his head, “Fuckin’ hate wine.” 

You can’t help but properly laugh now, hoping that it puts him a little at ease. You reach over the table, lay your hand on his wrist just a touch, “What would you prefer to drink?” 

You don’t miss the way he subtly drags his wrist back from your touch, covering it by scratching at the skin on the side of his hand, but you don’t let it bother you. You’re a touchy person, it’s what makes you feel at ease mostly, but that doesn’t mean it works for Joel, so you fold your hands back in your lap. 

“Usually beer,” He mumbles, flagging down the waitress as she walks past to ask for just that, “Or whiskey.” 

“I don’t mind a beer,” You offer, trying to make light conversation, “But whiskey makes my throat burn.” 

He doesn’t offer much of a reply apart from a short hum from his mouth, his attention moving from you to the room around you, letting the table fall into silence. You look down at your lap, trying to think of things to say whilst you wait for your food. 

“So, Sarah, right?” You ask after his daughter, it’s something the two of you have in common at least, “You must be super proud of her, medical school is incredible.” 

“Yeah,” He says simply, “She’s a very smart girl.” 

You expect him to ask after Noah, ask him a little about what he’s like, maybe what his favourite subjects are at school or whether he’s in any sports clubs or anything, but he doesn’t offer anything else to you, doesn’t ask any questions. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, saved by the waitress dropping your meals in front of you, fresh tomato pasta with chicken for you and steak and mashed potatoes with asparagus for Joel. You swirl your fork through the pasta, scooping some into your mouth as Joel cuts into his steak. Your eyes are trained on him, watching how he eats - it’s one of your big tests, table manners, and to be fair to him, he passes with flying colours - sure he eats a bit fast, but it’s nothing off-putting, and he seems to be able to use a knife and fork properly and chew with his mouth closed, which is a far cry from the last person you’d been out with. 

“You look really good tonight,” You offer, setting your fork down for a moment, “The flannel is very Texas.” 

You think in the dim light you can see him flush a little, and you’ve not said anything that isn’t true, he does look good. Fucking great actually. Joel finishes swallowing, takes a swig of his beer. 

“Thank you,” He tips his head towards you, “You look nice too,” He brings his hand up to his face to motion, “Rosy cheeks.” 

You try not to let your disappointment show, it is a compliment after all, so you put all your focus back down into your meal, the two of you finishing your food in a rather awkward silence - you willing Joel to ask you something, to start a conversation, anything really. You watch as Joel pushes the asparagus around his plate after eating two of the spears, finishing off his steak and potatoes but leaving the rest of the greens. 

When the waitress comes back to clear your plates, she asks if you’d like the dessert menu. You look to Joel, who tips his head in a way to say it’s up to you, but this has quite possibly been the most excruciating few hours of your life, so you drain your glass of wine, tip the last of the bottle into the glass and sit to wait for the bill. 

“Listen,” Joel starts, dragging your attention from the bottom of your glass to him, a look of slight regret on his face, “I ain’t too good at all this,” He tries to explain, “It’s been a long time and I’m a little rusty.” 

You kind of want to wring his ass for it a little, but underneath his apparent disinterest, you can still see the nerves of the guy who first walked through the door, and you get it, you think you’d been similar when you first started dating again, but you don’t think you’d completely lost the ability to think of a single question. 

Joel insists on paying the bill and you don’t fight him for the privilege of splitting it - you think it might upset some of that southern chivalry he has and for someone else they’ll love that. It’s a silent affair as you both stand up, gather your things. 

“How are you getting home?” Joel asks, holding the front door open for you. 

“I can just grab a cab,” You smile, “How about you?” 

He points to a truck, “Only had one so I can drive home,” He explains, “Do you mind if I wait with you for your cab?” He asks, “I’d feel better knowing you get in one safe.” 

“Of course,” You smile, “The hostess called one for me, so it shouldn’t be long.” 

There’s another lull in conversation, thankfully your cab arrives quickly, saving the silence from falling into awkwardness again. Joel beats you to the door, opening it for you. 

“I would say it’s been nice meeting you,” He speaks, “But I feel like I made this real difficult, and I’m sorry for that.” 

Going to step into the cab, you stop, leaning down to put your bag in the back seat, pausing a little before you turn back around to him, meeting his eyes. They’re striking, dark brown and beautiful, and trying to tell you just how much he knows he’s messed up. It makes your heart sink because you feel that sadness too, knowing he had so much promise, that he understood you in a way you thought other people didn’t, without even needing to talk to you, he’s a single parent, he gets it, like other people don’t. It frustrates you, makes your breath catch in your throat and your eyes glass over. 

You bring a comforting hand to his shoulder, “It’s okay,” You add a smile at the end, “It takes some time to get used to this all again, I was the same,” You look down at your shoes,  “It’ll get easier each time you do it, I promise.” 

His head dips, regret flashed across his face, like he wishes he could go back and do it all over but better this time. 

“M’sorry, again,” His tone is low, morose even, then he dips, presses a soft kiss to your cheek, “Get home safe.” 

You flop down on your bed, hand running over your face, wondering at what point it had gone wrong. He’d had so much potential, had seemed like he could be so right for you, so what went wrong? 

No sooner have you sent the ‘home safe’ message to Dixie, do you feel the soft vibrating of your phone. You answer, put the phone on loudspeaker and set it by your head. 

“So, how did it go?” 

You groan, “He had so much potential Dix,” You let out a pained noise, “I don’t know where it went wrong?!” 

“Oh honey,” She coos down the phone, aware more than anyone how much you wanted to be done with dating and finally have someone you could spend time with, “What happened?” 

“I don’t even know!” You exclaim, “Like, I could tell he was nervous, and this was his first date in years, but it was like he’d never spoken to a woman in his life, it was so hard!” 

You can hear her sucking on her teeth on the other end of the phone, “Are you being too hard on him?” She asks, “You always say the cocky men are no good because they’re rehearsed, maybe he just needs time to warm up?” 

“Dixie, I’d need a flamethrower to warm him up!” 

That gets a giggle out of her, “Mama, listen to me,” She goes into serious mode now, “Not everyone is as seasoned as you at this, and if this was his first date in years and he comes face to face with you? Of course he’s going to be nervous, you can’t write him off just for that honey.” 

That’s when your truth really hits out, “But what if I spend all that time warming him up and it’s a waste of time? He could turn out to be no good for me and then I’ve wasted so much time instead of trying to find the right person.” 

“Honey, respectfully, you’re forty, not at the end of your life, I promise that maybe spending some time trying to unravel someone a little instead of writing them off immediately might actually be worth it.” 

“I don’t know, Dix…” You trail off. 

“Just sleep on it, okay?” She offers, “See how you feel when you wake up before you send him the ‘thanks but no thanks’ message.” 

“Okay, I promise.” 

The two of your say goodbye to each other, you stay led on the bed for a while before you push yourself up, plug your phone into the charger, noticing the notification from Hinge when your screen lights up. You can see it’s Joel’s name that sits on the front screen. You sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed, weighing up whether to read it or not. Deciding that if you do read it, you’re likely to make a decision against what Dixie told you, so you leave the notification sitting there, get yourself ready for bed and then will yourself to sleep without going over every second of the date wondering what you could have done differently.

[phoward89]

Summary: Coriolanus is bed ridden and healing from his dance with poison, but that doesn't stop him from his political scheming. When he finds out that his political rival lusts after you, he warns you and makes you promise to help poison the man once his District 12 contact comes through and sends him your apothecary book.

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus,mentions of blood, cussing, slapping, talks of sex work and mistresses, um that's pretty much it

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7:

You had placed Coryo on bed rest a couple of days ago so he'll be able to attend his late wife's funeral. He'll be weak, but at least he'd be able to go to the funeral looking a bit better than he was the night he came home, barely able to stand on his own two feet from the poison he drank.

A funeral that Ma and Strabo Plinth were arranging. They, surprisingly, live in the apartment underneath the penthouse on the 11th floor. You met them when they came over, wanting to check on Coryo; let him know that they'd take care of all of Livia's funeral arrangements.

Ma Plinth was a warm, frumpy woman that just had a motherly aura to her. She talked your ear off and kept stuffing her homemade cookies (she called the little brown scallop-edged things biscochitos) into your hand as you sat with her in the main room while her husband talked to Coryo in the master bedroom.

Apparently, they tried the townhouse he lived in with Livia first, but when they were only met with an Avox, they decided to try the Corso penthouse.

Ma Plinth was so sweet and friendly. She even offered to help you transition into life in the Capitol as a person coming from the districts.

“It can be so difficult adjusting to life here when all you know is the simple life of your district; your traditions. I'm only one floor away if you need anything, sweetheart.”

Did she know something you didn't? Because your stay in the Capitol with Coryo's only temporary, until Victor's Village in 12 is done being built.

Meanwhile, as Ma Plinth showered you with motherly affection, her husband had his own talk with Coryo. The talk about the funeral was brief, but that wasn't the only thing they were talking about.

No.

They were also talking about you.

“I take it that girl's the victor you had me sponsor during the games.” Strabo Plinth told Coriolanus, a knowing look on his old, wrinkle-weary tan face.

“You're correct, Sir.” The platinum blonde nodded. Adjusting himself against his pillows and headboard, he added in, “She's the one I had you sponsor, ensuring her Victory by being sent that pocket knife.”

“Is she staying with you now?”

“Yes, we're living together.” Coriolanus nodded.

“She won't be as valuable for you to sell if she's used, Coriolanus.” Strabo remarked in a business-like tone.

“I'm not selling her, Sir. I'm keeping her for myself.”

“So, she's your new mistress.” Strabo surmised. He could see the appeal the girl had to his adopted heir. She was from District 12 and the Head Gamemaker had spent some time there in his youth…

“No, she’ll never be my mistress.” Coriolanus shook his head, causing Strabo to frown. “I'm going to marry her; make her my First Lady.” The ailing platinum blonde told the older man, only to bluntly ask, “Have you heard anything about the president's condition? His age and health’s been declining; the council must be close to declaring him incompetent.”

“I received a call this morning from my contacts, the president’s cabinet along with the ministry plans on declaring him incompetent and naming the Senate temporary rulers for Panem until a campaign season and election is held.”

“Sir, how soon will I be able to declare my intentions to run as the youngest President of Panem?”

“Within the next 3 days, but I do advise you to rethink your rash decision to marry that victor. She has nothing to offer you and your presidential campaign.”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don't tell you what to do about your private affairs so I'd appreciate it if you showed me that same respect.” Coriolanus seethed, his voice ice cold and clipped, as he narrowed his eyes at Strabo Plinth.

The Plinths haven't been by since the day after Coryo poisoned himself while killing his wife, but they did slide a note under the door about the date and time of the funeral.

A note you just picked up after hearing the knock on the door while in the kitchen, making Coryo a glass of warm salt water to gargle with in order to help his mouth sore heal faster.

The sore was large, red, bloody, and inflamed. But, you knew that by gargling with warm salt water the sore wouldn't get infected; ooze puss, but would begin the healing process.

So, with a glass of salt water in one hand and a note in the other, you made your way to the master bedroom you share with Coryo. Your unofficial boyfriend.

“The Plinths just left a note under the front door.” You told him, announcing your presence; causing him to close his book and put it aside.

“Is that what's in your hand, darling?” Coryo asked, baby blues flittering towards the paper you're holding, as you made your way over to him.

‘Yea, it's the details for Livia's funeral. I thought you'd need to see it.” You explained, placing both the note and the glass of saltwater on the nightstand.

Before you could back away, the bedridden platinum blonde grabbed your wrist and sighed, “I know you're still upset with me for drinking that arsenic based poison, but please, just stay with me for a while. Keep me company, yea?”

“I've been keeping you company since you brought me here, Coryo. I'm just trying to let you get some rest so you can build up your strength.”

“I'm healing up just fine, Y/N; you're taking such good care of me, but I would like to spend more time with you then during meals and check-ins on my condition.”

“Coryo, you need your rest.” You told him, only to remind the light curly haired blonde what happened the last time you spent time with him. “Plus last time I was in bed with you, you tried to get me to mess around with you.” Before the head gamemaker could utter a word, you finished your thoughts with, “You're too weak for that right now. You’re on a broth diet and have a painful, bloody sore taking up your entire right cheek. Sexy times should be the least of your worries right now, horny goat.”

“Did you really just call me a horny goat, my darling rose?” Coriolanus incredulously asked, a brow raised in amusement. “I can't say I've ever been called that before.”

“Read your note and gargle with your salt water. I have to make your chicken broth.”

“Perhaps you could shred some of the poultry into my bowl when it's done?”

“No, Coriolanus. Your stomach's not ready for solids yet.”

“You're lucky I'm sick and in bed, otherwise I'd slap you for your bratty behavior.” Coriolanus darkly hissed, his icy eyes narrowed with promising madness.

You didn't say a word, just yanked your wrist out of his hold and left the bedroom.

You had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn when it came to loving (which you certainly weren't doing yet) and living with Coriolanus Snow.

The head gamemaker's bored to death in his sick bed. Coriolanus would much rather be in bed with you, stuffing you full of his cock until you cry from cumming multiple times. But, since you're so strict about his recovery, he’s stuck staring at the 4 walls of his bedroom, looking out the window, reading books, and mentally scheming up plans of presidential grandeur.

Tigris came over to check on him; to drop off your closing interview dress as well. Since you’re busy making broth, you told the stylist to just drop the dress bag in the master bedroom and to let Coriolanus know that you'd be bringing him something to eat soon.

Truth was you’re also busy avoiding having to deal with Coryo. Man’s worse than a baby while sick in bed.

And for some reason he's always-

ALWAYS

-horny.

Doesn't matter that he's still weak from poisoning himself. He wants you and isn't shy about letting you know it.

You know once he's healed you're in for it. The thought excites you, even tho you'd never admit it out loud. Hell, you won't even silently admit it to yourself. But maybe that's because Ashlie, your brother's girlfriend, told you that such things shouldn't be addressed or dwelled upon.

Oh boy, were you in for a rude awakening whenever Coryo gets better and has his way with you.

But you won't mind; in fact you'll welcome it.

You were finishing up brewing the broth for your man while his cousin, the famed stylist, visited with him in your shared bedroom.

“You can't have her sit with you at Livia's funeral, Coriolanus.” Tigris told her cousin, staring at him as he sipped some green tea (that you’re making him drink instead of his preferred Earl Grey due to the healing properties it had) while in bed, propped up against some pillows, against the headboard. Waiting for you to bring him some broth and a new book to read.

“Why not? She's mine.” Coryo asked, blood from his large and painful mouth sore had seeped into his tea. Staining the rim of the teacup crimson; making his cousin feel uneasy as she stuffed your interview dress, which Coriolanus deemed your funeral dress, back into the garment bag after showing it off.

“Your wife just died, Coriolanus. You can't be presenting her on your arm for your elite to bid on her while at a funeral.” Tigris told the atinum blonde, hoping that her words would knock some sense into him.

He just couldn't parade you around a funeral, tempting the rich for the biddings. It wasn't right. In fact it was disgusting. At least he could wait until the gala after the crowning ceremony to debut you for bidding.

Even the thought of him doing that disgusted the fashion designer.

“That is not what I'll be doing, Tigris!” Coriolanus angrily shouted, feeling his mouth sore burn and seep blood. Slamming his teacup on his bedside table, causing some of the rich, green liquid to slosh over the crimson stained rim, he barked, “I've told you, I'm making Y/N my wife. She will never ever be touched by anyone, but me.”

“Yes, well, at least with you laid up in bed from food poisoning she gets a break from you touching her.” Tigris said, feeling relief for your plight. She felt sorry for you on so many levels. She wished she could do more to help you, but all she could do was design your commissioned dresses and offer you a gentle soul for friendship during your tough time.

Coriolanus narrowed his baby blues at his cousin, the kind hearted woman who raised him to be good even though he decided to become evil. “What the hell is your problem, cousin? I've done so much for you and you treat me like shit.”

The stylist debated whether or not she should tell Coriolanus what her problem with him was. On one hand, she didn't want to upset him, but on the other hand she knew that she couldn't keep her feelings to herself for much longer. Deciding to just tell him the truth, Tigris tilted her black and blonde stripe-haired head at her cousin, only to say, “Your time as a peacekeeper in 12 changed you, Coriolanus. Something inside of you snapped and you became cold, cruel, and evil just like your father.”

Coriolanus’ eyes burned with a cold-blooded rage at Tigris’ words. He was insulted that she called his father, the great General Crassus Snow evil, let alone himself that.

Tigris’ shoulders shook with sorrowful anger while revealing her true feelings of, “I do appreciate you for giving me the opportunity to become a well known designer, but I despise you for making me a stylist for the games. For pimping out those Victor's all so you can gain money that you don't even need, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, well, you always were too sweet and tender-hearted for your own good.” Coriolanus scoffed, rolling his eyes in a dramatic show that he felt his cousin was too soft. Too weak. Too naive. Too ethical and moral for the dark world they lived in. “Now, if you're done trying to guilt trip me- which won't work because I'm completely fine with being the villain in your story- could you go back to your boutique and design Y/N a proper interview dress.”

“What's wrong with the one I just hung up for her?”

“Tigris, cousin, I already told you that dress is perfect for her to wear to Livia's funeral since it's black with pearl accents and a matching, large floppy hat.”

“You're going to make a fool out of yourself with her on your arm at your wife’s funeral, Coriolanus.” Tigris huffed warningly as the sound of the phone ringing echoed down the hall and into the master bedroom.

“No, I won't.” Coriolanus snapped. “Oh, Tigris, I'd like for my darling rose to have white rose accents on her interview dress.” Coriolanus said, reaching for his discarded teacup. “Do you think you can handle that, cousin?”

Before Tigris could say yes, you came rushing down the hall while calling out, “Coryo! Somebody from the presidential cabinet’s on the phone for you!”

“Well, as lovely as our little chat’s been cousin, we both have duties to attend to.” Coriolanus told Tigris, his tone very curt and formal, as he placed his teacup on the table and stood up.

Tigris nodded solemnly, only to turn around and go over to the door. Right as you entered the room, she exited. “Please, let me know if he hurts you. If you need any help.” She whispered softly in your ear, brushing her shoulder against yours in a show of running into you (to cover up her whispers from her eagle eyed cousin).

You didn't say a word, just gave her a polite smile before making your way over to Coryo, who was rummaging thru his dresser drawer.

“What're you looking for?” You curiously asked, stopping by the blonde man's side.

“My damn pajamas that I never wear.” He told you. Gesturing to the closet with a flick of his wrist, he ordered, “My blue dressing gown’s in there, please get it for me.”

“You have a housecoat?” You asked, holding back a giggle.

“It’s not a housecoat, it's a dressing gown, Y/N.” Coriolanus harshly snapped as he found the pair of navy blue silk pajamas he was looking for. Quickly, he tossed on the shirt, not even bothering to unbutton it, while berating you with, “You're not in the districts anymore, so please, refrain from talking like it.”

“You might take the girl out of the districts, but you can't take the districts out of the girl.” You scoffed, grabbing his precious baby blue dressing gown aka housecoat as he quickly pulled on his matching navy blue pajama pants.

Coryo might be recovering from his stint with the poison, but his backhand was still strong. You staggered, and would've fallen on your ass if it wasn't for him grabbing your arm to keep you upright. Snatching the dressing gown from you, he snapped out the order of, “Don't you ever sass back again to me, Y/N.” Letting his grip on you go, he hastily put on his dressing gown while remarking, “You know I don't tolerate brats; I'll beat you into submission if I have to, my darling rose.”

You just let out a huff and shook your head incredulously. If he thought that he was going to just smack you around every time he thought you were bratty then he had another thing coming. You'd tell him too, after he's done with his phone call.

“I'll tell them you'll be there in a minute, Coriolanus.” You told him, disdain dripping from your tongue as you spat out his name, before storming out of the room and down the hall.

Coriolanus looked like shit as he sat down at the mahogany desk in his study. He looked drained with dark purple bags under his eyes. His platinum blonde curls were messily sticking up every which way and he had blood staining the corner of his lip since his mouth sore was open and large.

He picked up the phone and pressed the button to transfer the video call from the living room to his study. When the caller appeared on his screen, he was met with the head of the War Council, General Prometheus Byzantine- who was also a member of President Ravinstill’s cabinet since he was the head of the War Council.

A position that Coriolanus felt that he deserved after killing Dr. Gaul a decade ago, since after all he was her assistant.

But no….

President Ravinstill felt that he was too young to be in charge of the War Council and named General Byzantine to the position while anointing Coriolanus Head Gamemaker and giving him a punny seat on the war council.

Oh, how he hated that general.

He thought about offing him, but decided against it since another military great would just replace him. Instead, Coriolanus decided to climb the political social ladder and make allies (allies was a loose term) with anyone that could boost his election potential.

And once he became a senator, well, he knew that he had the perfect political background to successfully run for president. Which is why he started to slowly poison President Ravinstill during meetings about the games. The man was old, so it'd just look like natural causes took him. An illness of sorts.

It was perfect, his plan.

And it worked, since he was getting a call about the president being made unfit to rule the country.

“Good day, General Byzantine, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Coriolanus politely asked the man who had stolen his rightful spot running the war council.

The man he assumes will be his biggest threat and political rival while running for President of Panem.

“Good Day, Head Gamemaker Snow.” The general responded. “I’ve called to inform you that the cabinet’s met with the ministry and we’ll be announcing later tonight that the president is unwell and unable to enact his duties to the country.”

“So, the Senate’s in charge for the time being.” Coriolanus concluded, subconsciously tonguing the sore in his cheek since it stinging and hurting.

“Yes.” General Byzantine nodded, only to go into a lengthy explanation of, “There has to be a preliminary between those intending to run in order to see who the top 2 contenders are; then there has to be a campaign season and an election. All of which must be scheduled with enough time for tours, campaign speeches, debates, and related functions.”

“So, it'll take at least a year?” The platinum blonde, who looked like the pale horse of death itself, asked the former war hero- who he despised.

“Typically elections are held in November, but only the preliminary can be held this November.” General Byzantine told Coriolanus, who had already figured out in his head what he just heard.

“So, over a year then.”

General Byzantine nodded, before changing the subject with the remark of, “I saw that the new victor answered your phone. She keeping your dick wet as you cry over dearly departed Livia?” A sinister smirk formed on the general’s tan face as he darkly remarked, “When you're done stretching open her tight holes, I’ll pay your high price for her. Hell, I'll pay double what you want to charge for that pretty little district whore.” Tipping his head back, General Prometheus Byzantine chuckled, “She’s too beautiful to be district scum; has the looks of a Capitol whore tho.”

Hearing General Byzantine insult you and confess that he wanted you as his personal Capitol whore had Coriolanus' blood boiling. He was seething, seeing red like a raging bull. How dare that bastard want you.

Wasn't it bad enough that he stole his rightfully inherited position as Head of the War Council from him? Now he wanted to make you his personal whore. And wanted Coriolanus to break you in for him too. Oh, how dare he.

HOW DARE HE!

HOW.

DARE.

HE.

Coriolanus stared the general down, his icy eyes hard as stone. His baritone dripped with a firm possessiveness as he said, “My darling rose isn't for sale, General Byzantine. She is mine and I don't share what's mine.”

“Oh, Coriolanus, I'm sure you'll get tired of your little victor turned mistress once the novelty’s worn off.” The general said in a know-it-all type chuckle. “Call me when that happens and we'll talk about pricing. I have to call up some other senators about President Ravinstill, but have a nice day.” General Byzantine told Coriolanus before hanging up on him.

You heard a loud crash coming from Coryo's study. Even tho you were mad at him for slapping you (again), you were worried about him. He was still weak, had at least another 4 days until he's healed up enough to put your mind at ease, and you were concerned that he fell down.

Without a second thought, you turned off the stove and rushed to his study. When you stepped (more like ran) inside you were met with Coryo hunched over his desk, that was cleared of everything that had been on it. All kinds of things including the small desk sized video phone were scattered on the floor.

You quickly realized the crashing you heard was the platinum blonde sweeping everything off his desk in a flash of anger. What got him so upset? His call couldn't have been that bad, could it?

“Coryo, you need to calm down and rest.” You told him, appearing at his side and helping him back into his large, leather desk chair.

“I can't just calm down, my darling rose.” Coriolanus snapped, his tone full of aggravation and cold hard hate. You arched a curious brow at his remark, only for him to grab you by the waist and pull you onto his lap. “General Byzantine wants to take you away from me and I can't have that, baby. I can't lose you, you're mine and belong to me.” He ranted as you placed your hands on his shoulders while straddling his lap.

Holy hell…seems like his call with a member of President Ravinstill’s cabinet wasn't all professional. Coryo's remark made you wonder what happened, so you asked him, “I thought we belonged to each other, Coryo. Why would some general want to take me away from you?”

“Because he's lusting after what's mine, Y/N.” Coryo told you, his large callused hands holding you close to him. Anchoring you, preventing you from moving away. “He stole the position of Head of the War Council from me when my predecessor, Dr. Gaul died. I was her assistant and should've been given both her Head Gamemaker position and her position as the Head of the War Council, but General Prometheus Byzantine convinced President Ravinstill that I wasn't experienced enough for the position; had himself placed in it instead and had me given a seat on the council as a junior member.”

You kept your face neutral and just nodded at him, urging him to continue with his rant. Maybe if he gets everything off his chest he'll be able to nap; leave you alone for a bit.

If you're left alone, maybe you'll be able to use the phone to make a quick call to the mines to speak with Rein. Or maybe to the Hob to see if Ashlie’s there. You missed your family- terribly, and didn't want them worrying too much about you since your timeline of post-game events was different then other victors. 

Usually, a victor already did their exit interview and had their crowning and victory ball at the presidential palace by now, but given how Coryo was suffering from adverse effects of an arsenic based poisoning, all of your events have been postponed. Coryo said that he'd arrange for your events once he was better

But you knew that your family must be worried sick about you. They expected to see you by now, if not in person then on tv. And after you collapsed out after winning your games, well, you know that Rein and Ashlie must be worried sick about you.

Coryo’s long fingers dug into your hips. His icy blue eyes were raging with a fiery anger as he spat out, “That bastard told me, very crudely, that he wants you once I'm done with you. That he'll pay for you; make you his whore.”

Your eyes widened in horror at his blunt words. He wouldn't do that to you, would he? Coriolanus claimed that you belonged to him; that he wanted you by his side.

“Coryo, you wouldn't whore me out to some old general to, I dunno, get on his good side? Would you?”

Horror crossed over the platinum blonde man’s features. How could you think that he'd do such a thing? You were his obsession, his possession, his Victor, his darling rose, his baby, his girl.

You're his girl.

And only his girl.

Coryo cupped your cheek, the one he kept slapping and bruising, only to lean his forehead against yours, “Y/N, my darling rose, you're my girl. You belong to me and I don't share what's mine with anybody.” His breath was hot against your skin; the smell of blood wafted into your nose- the metallic, tangy scent should've curdled your stomach, but it didn't.

Perhaps your time in the games had changed your sense of smell when it came to blood, considering you smelt so much of it for nearly a week.

Coryo's baritone sounded out into the air with the promise of, “We belong to each other, Y/N. You're my girl and I'm going to marry you before fall comes. I promise, you'll be mine and only mine.”

“You're going to make me permanently yours by marrying me; making me your wife?” You asked for clarity, because if his answer was yes then you had one condition to the marriage he was forcing you into.

“Yes.” Coriolanus told you, his baby blues full of nothing, but honesty. Which, for him, was a rare feat in itself. “I’m going to marry you right away, after filing the K-1 Visa paperwork, and I'm going to make you my First Lady.”

Now it was your turn to look at him wide-eyed. “Make me your First Lady…” You let out in disbelief. “You're going to run for president, since President Ravinstill's old and frail; might be incompetent.” You told Coryo, even though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Yes, I'm going to become President Snow and you're going to be First Lady Snow.” Coryo told you with such strong conviction. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, only to tell you, “General Prometheus Byzantine is not only my political rival, but he's a danger to you, my darling.” Locking his eyes with yours, he revealed, “Smiley hasn't gotten back to me yet, so I don't know if your apothecary book's been sent out to us, but when we get that book I need you to make me a poison to give to the general.”

“Coryo…” You sighed, the weight of his words hitting you straight in the chest like a ton of bricks. Yes, you did tell him you'd make him plant based poisons with safe antidotes to take beforehand, but you weren't expecting him to cash in on that offer so soon. 

“I have to poison him, Y/N.” He told you, his voice firm, but velvety smooth. He pulled you in close to him, making you lean your head against his chest, as he declared, “It's the only way to ensure that you're safe; that I make it to the presidential palace, baby.” Carding his hands thru your hair, he sighed, “He's too dangerous to the both of us kept alive too long. He's got too much power; could very well beat me in a preliminary poll if I don't get rid of him now.” Coriolanus' voice shook with a deep rooted bitterness as he spat, “I won't give him the chance to overpower me; take you away. I promised to keep you safe and I'm going to do that by getting rid of him.”

“I knew I'd have to kill for my survival in the arena, during the Hunger Games, but I thought I'd be done with killing for my survival once the games were over.” You honestly admitted into his chest.

Coryo ran a hand up and down your back while telling you, “All of Panem's an arena and life's nothing, but one big Hunger Games. There's two types of people in this world, the weak who don't survive and the strong who’ll do anything to survive; who are the victors.” Looking down at you, he said, “You and I, my darling rose, are victors.” His head dipped low, so that his lips were ghosting over yours, as he told you, “Snow lands on top and you, my dear, are now considered a Snow.”

Your hand strokes his cheek, as you firmly tell him, “If I'm to be your wife; your First Lady Snow, then you'll stop smacking me in the face to teach me manners.” Before he could protest, you barrelled on with, “I refuse to end up like so many of the girls do in 12, beaten and broken by a man. I won't just sit around and let you slap me around every single day.” A dead serious look flashed in your eyes as you told him, “If you ever and I mean ever lay hands on me again then you better hire a taste tester because I will put something in your drink.”

Coriolanus smirked at your words. You truly were a victor. Only a victor would have the nerve to threaten him. Only a woman worthy of the Snow name could level with him. Give him an ultimatum.

Yes, your demand intrigued him because it meant that you agreed to marry him although you had one condition.

And that one condition he would grant you.

But only you, because if any other woman in Panem said those words you said to him, well, they'd be dead before dusk.

But you were different. You were his Victor, his survivor, his other half that he'd polish and shine up to be presentable on his arm in front of the Capitol citizens.

“I won't hit you out of anger again. You have my word, Y/N.” Coryo promised you. “But you must promise me to act more like a capitolite. We need to have a pure and pristine image while I'm running for president.”

“When do you plan on announcing your presidential campaign?” You curiously asked. You secretly hoped that it wouldn't be too soon. You just wanted to figure out how to navigate your new life in peace without the media chasing you down because you're with the game maker turned politician.

“The answer to that, my darling, will be revealed all in good time.” Coryo told you before nipping at your neck.

Trying to wiggle free from his grasp, you reminded him, “Coryo, you're still recovering.”

“You're such a strict nurse, not letting me have what I want even tho I'm feeling better.”

“Stop trying to fool me, Coryo. I know you've still got a few more days to go before you're in tip top shape.”

“The day you declare me with a clean bill of health’s the day I’m going to fuck you so hard into our mattress that you won't be walking right for a week.” Coriolanus told you, his tone blunt and full of the promise of things to come.

Things that you're not sure you're ready for. Things that you know will happen with him, since he's so determined. Things that you know you'll let happen because, deep down, you find him to be the most beautiful man you've seen in you're entire life and you want him too. You want him even tho you know you shouldn't.

You're the victor of the First Quarter Quell and he's the Head Gamemaker that has large aspirations of becoming the President of Panem. It's a match made in hell at best. 

But your man's a serpent and you’re losing yourself to him; will eat the forbidden fruit that he offers you.

You'll be his partner in crime; his other half in his poisonous schemes. 

But you don't know that yet. All you k ow right now is that he needs you to help him kill to keep both of you safe, he craved political power, is determined to make an honest woman out of you after murdering his first wife, and he wants to fuck you til hw blows out your back.

And whoever said that life would go back to normal after winning the games was full of shit. 

Because nothing about your life’s normal right now. 

But normalcy is overrated, isn't it?

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.2 K Warnings: none Prompt: Things finally start to make sense, maybe you'll finally discover one of the mysteries that have been surrounding you This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

ANNOUNCEMENT:

In a couple of weeks I'll make a Q&A to cellebrate Gilded Constellations reaching 100,000 K words. And I'd love for all of you to be a part of it. So send in your questions, they can be anything you want, things like: How did you get the idea? Where does inspo come from? writing tips (I mean I don’t know much but anyway), character design, fancast, fav characters, things about me, about my plot notebook, literally anything you want, ask away (just state: For Q&A event or something) <3

Chapter 14: Maybe I’m Amazed

Monday October 25th, 1976

You and Remus had a presentation today, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. You waited near the door of the classroom, with your notes in your hands, looking over them while tapping your feet on the ground, toying with your ring, and turning to look at the hall every couple of seconds, hoping to see him miraculously arrive. But he didn’t, in fact, it was the second time that day people you expected to see were nowhere to be found. 

You were also supposed to go flying with James and Sirius in the morning like you did every single day, but neither of the boys made it. You went up to knock on their room’s door, but nobody answered, and after waiting for a few minutes, you decided to go for the morning flight by yourself. 

Professor Flitwick saw you at the door, looking nervous and smiled at you empathetically from his desk. When your class was just about to start you sighed and walked closer to him. 

“Professor, I don’t understand what’s happening, I’m not sure if Remus will make it. He didn’t tell me anything, I haven’t seen him since yesterday and I–“ 

“It’s ok,” he said calmly “Mr. Lupin is sick, I was informed.” 

“Sick?” You asked with a frown. 

Flitwick nodded, “I believe he and some of his friends all ate something that upset their stomachs at Hogsmeade on Saturday, they’re at the nurses’ office.” 

You opened your eyes wide, that was your lie. But if the boys really were at the infirmary, then it meant something had happened to them on their stupid prank last night. 

You frowned, almost wanting to run off to see them, but resisted the urge to do so “What’s gonna happen to our presentation then? He’s worked so hard on it, I wouldn’t want him to lose his grade.” 

“You can present with him next class,” he told you comprehensively “It’s ok Miss (Y/LN), take your seat, don’t stress too much about it. I know you’ll give a brilliant presentation once your partner’s feeling better.” 

You nodded “Thank you, Professor,” you told him with a smile and went to take one of the seats. 

The class started, Lily and Marlene had worked on their project together and they went first, talking about the properties of wordless magic and then making a very small presentation, teaching some volunteers to make sparks with their wands without saying a word. Tom and Marlene were next, and they gave a talk about the dangers of dark magic and so on. A couple other students asked for volunteers, and while in normal situations you’d have been among the first to raise your hand, today was an exception, you were a little too busy, tapping your feet under the desk and looking at the clock every couple of minutes. 

At some point you decided you had to do something, so you took some parchment out and wrote a small note: 

Hey Puppy! You all right? I missed you and Prongs on our morning flight today… Remus missed our presentation too, tell him Flitwick said we could present next class. Are you all really at the infirmary? Because I know for a fact it wasn’t something you ate… Unless you actually ate something last night, I wouldn’t put that past you lot, but I’m sure that’s not it. I’ll keep an eye out for your answer plane. 

You read it over a couple of times and then started to bend it into a very small paper plane that you left over your desk. When class was over you used the same spell Remus had used at the beginning of the course so that your little plane landed close to Sirius. 

It wasn’t until you were in the middle of transfigurations that a different paper plane landed over your desk, you carefully unfolded it and started reading:

Hey beautiful! Thanks for that strong vote of confidence! We didn’t actually eat anything bad. Remus says he’s sorry for missing the class, and that he’ll do your homework for a week to make it up to you, I’m jealous! 

We really are at the infirmary though, last night’s prank went awry and we accidentally got attacked by Grindylows. We’re all right, Remus got the worst of it anyway… But we came to check on him first thing in the morning, that’s why we didn’t make it to the morning flight. Your rumour somehow got all the way to Poppy, and when we went to check on Remus she gave us some medicine and had us stay in the infirmary to check on us… so it’s basically your fault. 

Anyway, you should still come see your poor boyfriend in the infirmary, pamper him with kisses and offer him some tasty treats… at least.

ps. Since I haven’t retrieved the ones from last week, that would mean you owe me six so far…

You smiled when you finished reading, Sirius was a total flirt, and you loved that about him. When you read over it though, you frowned, that was the second time Remus got hurt after a prank, and if they were attacked by Grindylows, there was no way they were just fine, those little creatures could be absolute savages, you’d know, since one time a friend at your older school had fallen on the lake and been attacked by those nasty little water beings, she had to be taken to the hospital wing, and stayed there for a week. Of course, Remus was bigger, stronger, and a more advanced wizard, since that had happened to her in 3rd year, but regardless, Remus must be pretty battered up, again. 

Finally, you sighed and went back to trying to turn the quill you had in front of you into a bird. Not that you were doing too good at that either.  You let out an exasperated groan after your 3rd try of only getting a beak and little legs to appear on the quill. 

Professor McGonagall approached you  “Everything ok Miss (Y/LN)?”

You nodded, the air of exasperation remaining regardless, “I’m really struggling to get this right,” you told her “This is the first time I ever done transfiguration, and no magic had been this challenging for me before, it’s just…” 

McGonagall smiled understandingly “Would you mind if I got you a tutor? I know a couple students from your year that would be more than willing to help.” 

“I… uh… I’m not really that close to everyone in my year…” 

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, you were pretty much already a member of one of the Gryffindor friend groups, and the rumour that you and Sirius were dating was already spreading too “I was thinking Mr. Lupin could help, and from what I gather you’re already friends…”  

“Oh… Remus? Yeah, we’re close!” 

“Excellent, I’ll tell him once he’s back on his feet. Poor boy, he must be feeling pretty tattered up today.” 

You nodded “Yeah, he shouldn’t have eaten that.” 

“Eaten what?” She asked, confused. 

You arched your eyebrows “The thing at Hogsmeade that made them all end up in the infirmary…” 

“They all?” Minerva quipped “Who else is in the infirmary?” 

“Sirius, James and Peter.” 

“They are there?!” She asked, seemingly surprised. You frowned, how did McGonagall know Remus was in the hospital if she didn’t know the boys were there too?

“Isn’t that the reason Remus was in the infirmary?” You asked, rather confused. 

“The reason he–? Oh right, yeah right, must have slipped my mind.” She said and stepped away. 

You frowned, there were many things that did not make sense with Remus Lupin, you’d already accepted that, and moved on from it, since he was one of the best people you’d ever met, but this, this was just off. McGonagall was not the type of teacher to whom things just “slipped her mind”, and that was a fact. Unless she knew Remus had been in the infirmary for another reason, and if that reason was that he’d been attacked by Grindylows, then that would imply she knew about the boys’ prank and was covering for them, which made even less sense. 

And today was not the first time things were weird, it was like some teachers knew something that you didn’t. And it was all somehow related to Remus. And you really did not want to pry, but your mind, being naturally curious, could not stop thinking about it. And it all seemed so familiar; like you only needed to find the one little string that would solve the entire mystery, and it was just there for you to reach out and pull, but somehow, you were trying to find the tail end with your eyes closed. Maybe Remus really did blindfold you the first time you met, but instead of using the physical blindfold, he’d used an intricate web of half-facts and untold tales. Of course, he didn’t owe you any kind of explanation, and it was not like you were going to ask but a part of you really, really wanted to discover the mystery. 

You spend the entire class pondering all the little things that didn’t make sense about Remus Lupin, thinking of trillions of ways in which they could be connected to each other, but nothing seemed to make sense. No matter how much you racked your brain, you could not find the string to tie it all out. You were so focused in uncovering the mystery that you didn’t even realise when the class was over. 

“Hey (Y/N)! You ok?” Tom said as he shook your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You said, but your head was pounding from so much thinking, and to be honest, you did not want to deal with divination class, so you corrected yourself “Actually, would you mind telling Spellman I’m feeling a little dizzy, and that I’m going to the infirmary?” 

Tom gave you a look and nodded, the two of you stood together and started walking towards the door “And where are you actually going to?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. 

“Hm? Oh, to the infirmary actually, I’ll just pass by the kitchens first.” 

“The kitchens?” He asked confused as you both continued walking towards the stairs. 

“I’m taking some food for the boys,” you explained, Tom nodded, but still looked confused “They got caught up in the excuse from yesterday and Poppy got them to stay in the infirmary to check on them.” 

“So you’re just feeling bad as an excuse to go see your sweet boyfriend,” he teased. 

You nodded “Yeah, and my friend who got attacked by Grindyllows.” 

Tom frowned “Grindylows? At this time of the year?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“It’s weird, when the lake starts to cool down they disappear.” 

You frowned at that, yet another puzzle piece to solve, but by then Tom was already walking towards a different set of stairs “See you around, hope you feel better, I’ll tell Spellman where you went,” he said loudly. Tom really was the worst liar you’d ever met. 

“Thanks Tom,” you managed to say before scurrying through one of the hall entrances, so people wouldn’t notice the weird exchange you’d had. 

Once you got to the kitchens you knocked on the frame and asked the elves if you could have some food, they nodded and started preparing you some snacks to go, you asked around, hoping to find Nimbbletwist, but the elves told you that she’d been commission to something by Dumbledore that particular day. When they were done you thanked them profusely and waved goodbye. You grabbed the package of food and after placing the entire thing inside your backpack you started walking towards the infirmary. 

Once you were next to the huge, half-opened doors, you slowly slipped inside, hoping not to cause too much of a stir inside, but the place was pretty much empty, other than the hushed whispers you heard at the end of the room. A curtain was covering the boys from your sight, and muffling their voices. 

“We need to find a better way to deal with your furry little problem,” You heard Peter say “Moony’s been going pretty wild the past few times.” 

“Ehm…” You cleared your throat, whatever the boys were talking about, the fact that they were whispering about in an empty room, meant that the conversation was secret enough for them, and you were not planning to eavesdrop on some of the nicest people you’d met. “Morning boys,” you said with an awkward wave. 

Sirius smiled the second he spotted you, Peter looked like he’d seen a ghost, and Remus looked too tired to care much about you having shown up almost out of nowhere. But James was the first one to speak “Hey (Y/N)! Sorry we missed the morning flight.” 

You nodded “Sirius told me all about your mishaps,” you said as you walked closer to them, you looked around trying to find a sitting spot, and when you didn’t you resolved to stay standing “Brought you guys some snacks.” 

“You actually did?” Sirius asked with a dashing smile, eyes shining in content. His girl had brought him snacks, and she looked as lovely as ever while doing so. By then, you were already turning your backpack in front of you and pulling the little pack the elves had built for you. So he helped you hold it as you pulled the food pack and placed it on the bed besides Remus. They’d packed sausage rolls, pork pies, scotch pancakes, Jaffa cakes and tiny Bakewell tarts, Peter dug right into the sausage rolls, like he was starving. 

“Poppy didn’t give you boys any food?” 

“She gave us soup,” Peter said in between bites “It was so bland and tasteless, she said it’d make our stomachs feel better.” 

“I thought it was good,” Remus said with a shrug. 

“Yeah, you got the one with spices,” Peter complained “You should’ve said we had a headache or something instead.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Since when are headaches something 4 people can have at the same time?” You retorted. 

Peter shrugged in response “A magical headache or whatever.” 

“At least, thanks to you, we didn’t get in trouble for skipping class,” James said with a shrug. 

“Exactly, that’s my girl!” Sirius said with a wink, then he grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, you arched your eyebrow at him once you were comfortably sitting on him “You looked like you were tired.” 

You laughed, shaking your head “Yeah, sure Puppy, if you say so.” 

“Don’t think I’ve stopped counting,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter, setting the two of you in a more comfortable position. 

Finally, you turned to Remus, he wasn’t eating any of the things you’d brought, James was munching on a pork pie and even Sirius was enjoying a Bakewell tart, but Remus looked genuinely beaten up. He had a sharp gush on his face, and another one down his arm, probably many more underneath his clothes and bandages. Just when you started to pay attention to the open wounds, and realising how different they were from the ones your friend had gotten when she was attacked by Grindyllows, Sirius spoke again “You’re wearing your ring today,” he said pointing at it as he grabbed your hand to look at it. 

“Found it in a drawer as I was getting ready in the morning,” you told him “seemed to match the mood of yesterday.” 

“Because of the moon and the stars,” Sirius agreed, paying a closer look at your ring, you nodded, “It’s very beautiful,” he said, slipping it out of your finger and testing if it would fit in his pinky, it stood out among his thicker rings, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Won’t you eat anything?” Peter asked Remus as he munched on his fourth sausage roll. 

“I’m not really feeling it,” Remus responded. 

“Mmm… Actually–“ you said as you placed a cookie in your mouth to bring your backpack to your lap again. Sirius took the cookie from your lips and held it for you, you turned to him and whispered a small “thanks,” before you continued to rummage through your bags, “It’s here!” You said as you pulled out a chocolate bar. It was the same brand Remus always carried around, and you’d bought a few at Honeydukes over the weekend. You’d decided to always carry one in your bag, to offer to Remus when he was feeling off, just like he’d done for you several times. You handed it over to him. 

The boy smiled as he grabbed onto it “Thanks love! Don’t deserve it after I failed you for today’s presentation.” 

“Don’t be silly Rem, you had an accident,” you told him motioning to him on the bed. 

“And where’s my chocolate bar?” Asked Sirius as he leaned his head over your shoulder to give Remus a better look. 

“You don’t get one today Puppy, I only packed one in the morning, sorry.” 

“And you gave it to Remus instead of me?” He teased, playing offended. “You do remember I am your boyfriend right?”  

“Well, clearly Remus was the one to save all of your asses last night,” you said pointing at the bandaged boy, and then at the rest, who barely had a scratch on them “However the hell did you get into a fight with Grindylows?” 

“We were trying to get some gillyweed,” Remus responded while he pulled on the paper of the chocolate bar to open it “for a special prank we wanted to do on the Slytherins.” 

“With gillyweed?” You asked with a frown. 

“For a potion,” James added “took the recipe from one of Grandpa’s old journals.” 

You narrowed your eyes at James, but nodded, Who knows? the Potters are pretty much experts on potions, they’d know. “Did you get it?” 

Remus shook his head “We were too busy with the Grindylows.”

“I could maybe help you–˝

“–No!” Remus, James, Sirius and Peter said at the same time. You closed your mouth at that, taken aback by their answer. 

“Love, you did see Moony, right? Do you wanna end up like that?” Sirius reasoned. 

“Well… I’m a good swimmer, I could scare the Grindylows away with bombarda or something–”

“–don’t worry about it,” said James “We decided we would buy it in a magazine and get it delivered, we don’t wanna have to go through that again,” he motioned to Remus. 

“But thanks for offering,” Remus added “It’s very brave of you.” 

You shook your head, “those stupid Slytherin boys have been getting on my nerves lately, whatever prank you do to them, I’d love to help.” 

“They’ve bothered you again since the broom incident?” Sirius asked. A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the way Evan had pulled you over the railing last night. 

“Nothing I can’t deal with, they’re just a bunch of cowards.” 

James looked at you with apprehension, he thought it was his fault that Barty had started to pick on you, after all the ball you threw at his face had originally been directed at him, not at you. You wondered if the boys had heard of yesterday’s commotion in the astronomy tower, they probably hadn’t, they wouldn’t be relaxed at all. 

Sirius yawned from behind, closing his eyes as he leaned closer to you, resting his head over your neck. “You boys should go get some sleep,” you told them when you noticed that it wasn’t only Sirius who was sleepy, James’ shoulders were slumped, and he normally stood straight, while Peter was sluggishly munching onto his fourth sausage roll. “I’ll stay with Rem, I need to wait for Poppy to come anyway, I want something for my headache.”

“You’ve got a headache?” Remus asked with a frown, “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”  

You tried to shrug but stopped when you remembered Sirius still had his head over your shoulder “You looked a lot worse,” you said with a teasing smile. 

He shook his head with a breathy laugh, “Don’t put yourself second luv, I’m fine, I’m strong! See?” He said as he raised his arm and as if to show off his muscles. 

You laughed, he wasn’t lying, but it was still funny. “You sure you can stay luv? What about your classes?” Sirius asked. 

“I’ll catch up later, it’s easy. It’s not like we have transfiguration.” 

“Still having trouble with that?” Peter asked politely. 

You nodded “That’s literally the cause of my headache, couldn’t get a feather to turn into a bird. McGonagall said she’d give me a tutor.” 

“How delightful,” Sirius said ironically. 

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, “but then she said it’d be Remus, so it’s fine, we’re already working together in so many other classes, he must be getting sick of my face.” 

“Oh shut up, I would never,” he said as he broke off another square of his chocolate.

Sirius extended his hands towards him “Gimme soooome Moooony!”

Remus rolled his eyes, but extended his hand with a piece towards your boyfriend anyway, when their hands brushed against each other Remus hissed “What the hell Pads?” He said with a frown, looking betrayed. 

Sirius looked at his hand, his eyes widened as he saw he was still wearing your ring, your silver ring. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.” 

“Shock him?” You asked confused, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expect from someone who’d gotten an electricity shock. Let alone Remus’.

Remus nodded, “I’ve got a small cut in my hand,” he lied “It was rather unexpected.” 

You looked at him with a bit of a frown, you hadn’t seen any cuts on his hand. James suddenly stood up and clapped, gathering everyone’s attention “Well, if I don’t move now, I’m falling asleep on this chair. Pete, Pads, you coming along?” 

While you turned your head to look at James, Remus threw a look at Sirius, who frowned apologetically and mouthed “I’m sorry, I forgot.” 

“I’m coming,” Peter said, standing up after James. “Need anything from the dorm?” He asked Remus. 

He shook his head “I’ll catch up with my homework later.” He responded. 

“I’ve got a couple of books here in my bag, we can read something while they go sleep.” You offered your friend with a smile. 

“Sounds great!” Remus responded with a smile. 

“Nerds!” Sirius teased. 

“Pads?” Peter asked, “You coming too?” 

Sirius nodded, burying his head on your back as he hugged you tighter. 

“You don’t have to go,” you told him since he didn’t look like he wanted to let go of you just yet. 

“Why don’t you come nap with me instead?” He mumbled, voice a little muffled since he still had his head pressed to your back. “You smell really nice today.” Truth be told, Sirius thought you smelled nice every day, but with some of the dog qualities still lingering on him after the previous hours of being a dog, he was both extra sensitive to smell,  and extra clingy of his human too, not that you knew any of it. 

“Let the poor girl breathe mate!” Peter teased. Sirius just groaned in response. 

“I’m gonna stand up luv,” he told you, you were about to stand, but he just stood up while still holding onto you, and once he was up, he slid to the side, and dropped you right back on the chair. Well then, I guess that works too, you thought. 

“Bye Puppy,” you told him as he walked towards his friends. He raised his hands, showing 9 fingers up and raising his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, but also realised he was still wearing your ring on his pinky finger “Oi my ring!” 

“I’m keeping it as collateral,” he told you, “‘least until you pay up what you owe.” You gave him an amused smile and shook your head as he left. 

“What do you owe him?” Remus asked once the boys were gone. 

“He hasn’t told you about that yet?” You asked casually “says he doesn’t like being called Puppy–“ 

“–that’s a lotta crap.” 

You laughed “Yeah, well he charges a kiss for every time I call him that.” 

Remus raised his eyebrows, now he was amused “he’s just taking advantage of you love…” 

“Is he though?” You said back with a little smirk “The way I see it is a win-win situation. He gets to be all flirty and I get to kiss his pretty lips.” 

“Touché,” the boy agreed, he too thought Sirius had pretty lips “Can I tease him with the nickname too?” 

“All you want,” you replied with a smile “if he tries to kiss you, though, don’t blame me for it.” You both laughed, and a comfortable silence followed, then you remembered you still had books inside your bag and pulled them out, setting them on the bed beside him. He grabbed the one at the top when you noticed which book it was, you pulled it from his hands. “You can’t read that one.” 

“I can’t read… A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells?” He asked as he read the cover name from your hands. 

“It’s not that,” you added, holding it tightly between your arms. “It’s… not actually A Wizard's Handy Handbook of Spells, I charmed the cover.” He arched an eyebrow and tried to take it from your grasp, you pulled back but it was too late, he had it in his hands again.  Remus had an awful lot of energy for someone who had been badly hurt just a couple of hours ago. “Remus, give me that!” 

“I wanna know why you charmed the cover first,” he said while dangling the book in the air. 

You looked at him with a frown and jumped forward to try and grasp the book from his hands, but he pulled it back, to the side of the bed. “Remus!” 

“Am I gonna have to read it?” 

You stood up, and extended your hands over him, to try and get the book that was on the other side of the bed, but your feet got trapped with your backpack strap and you ended up falling over Remus. He groaned as your body crashed over a particularly nasty bruise. Your scent filled his nostrils from the closeness, Sirius was right, you smelled awfully nice, a little like him too.

“Shit Rem, I’m sorry,” you said standing up as soon as possible “I didn’t mean to–“ The brusque movements had caused his shirt to rise up slightly and you actually saw the nasty bruise your body had crashed against, you looked at it with a concerned frown and then back at your friend “Remus…” 

He averted your gaze, he did not like being pitted “I’m fine.” He said once he turned back to you, using his free hand to pull down his shirt again “I’m strong, remember?” 

“Yeah, someone falling over a bruise hurts, no matter how strong…” 

He shrugged, he’d definitely had worse than you falling over him “You’re light, didn’t hurt much.” You looked at him, sighing “and you smell nice, no wonder Sirius wants to have you on his lap all the time.” Finally, you laughed, shaking your head as you stared at your friend. Remus realised you had a really nice laugh as you did, he shook his head from the trance of staring, he wasn’t sure he’d ever found a girl as pretty as you. “Will you tell me what kind of book you were trying to hide from me, or will I have to figure it out myself?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s a spicy romance novel,” you said avoiding his gaze, he smiled diverted. The more you know, he thought. “It was recommended!” You added. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“It was!” You insisted “By your little Ravenclaw girlfriend, actually” 

“Nina Blythe?!” he asked in disbelief.

You nodded “Are you sure you don’t want to date her? She’s clearly into the good stuff.” He gave you a look and you laughed, Nina was beautiful, but she definitely still had a baby face, like Remus had said when you told him she had a crush on him.

“She’s not really my type.” 

“Which is…?”

“None of your business, of course.” He replied sassily, and then changed the subject “How spicy?” He asked, curiosity taking the best of him. 

You shrugged “I’ll tell you when I get to the spicy part,” you told him with a shrug, taking the book from his hands, he let you do it without any fuzz this time “But um…” you pointed at one of the other books on the bed “this one’s good, you’d like it.”

“Is it also spicy?” He teased. 

“Remus!” You complained, “Not every single book I read is spicy!” 

He shrugged “Wouldn’t shame you if you did.” 

You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “It’s not spicy, but it is really good.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, taking the book and opening on the first page. Soon enough the two of you were comfortably reading. You were so engrossed in your book that you’d totally forgotten the initial reason you’d gone there. But as you continued flipping pages, it was like the string you had been trying to reach earlier was finally there, shining brightly for you to take it, and tie all the mysterious facts into one sole explanation. As your eyes moved through the words in the book, the description of the male lead started to resonate with you…

Remus was strong. Remus had a lot of scars and bruises all over his body, and they were definitely not caused by Grindyllows, he always carried around a calming draught and had other rather strong painkiller potions in his room as well, he tended to stay away from you when you wore your silver ring, literally jumping from your grasp when you touched him with it on one time, and was also visibly mad at Sirius when he brushed over his fingers with it on, as if they both knew something you didn’t –electric shock, my ass. 

McGonagall knew he was in the infirmary, no, she expected him to be in the infirmary today, yesterday was full moon. 

When you told him that he could get the Fluxweed he said he was good at catching so he switched with you, he would’ve had to harvest it on the full moon. All the boys got really suspicious during the full moon, and the two times you’d seen the full moon happen in the castle, Remus and all the boys had disappeared. Peter was talking about “a furry little problem” just before you cleared your throat earlier. James had joked about his romance novel being called “The Beast Within.”

In the boggart class, when you got a werewolf, all the boys had tensed up, even the way Lily had approached you, constantly looking back and forth between him and you. 

You looked up at him, Remus looked tired, Remus had a great sense of smell, Remus got a lot more irritable around this time of the month, Remus was ripped even if he didn’t look like the type to do much exercise, in fact, you’d never seen him do exercise. Remus Bogart had been the moon. Remus was right in front of you, looking like he’d been up all night and yesterday was full moon. 

Remus’ nickname… Remus’ nickname was fucking Moony! 

YESTERDAY WAS FULL MOON. 

Finally seeing clearly every single thing that didn’t make sense in your head, all the half-told tales and the lies and the inconsistencies, “You’re a werewolf…” you mumbled, almost in a whisper. 

He had been too distraught with the book to notice, so he looked up at you “Sorry, what was that, luv?” 

Your head started swirling with fast thoughts, Remus hadn’t told you himself. Remus probably wanted his lycanthropy to be a secret. Remus had gone to great lengths to hide it. You’d barely met him a couple of months ago and you were sure most people didn’t know about his condition, other than a few teachers, the boys and, maybe Lily. She probably knows, in the bogart class, she seemed alarmed. But Marlene, Mary, Beth? They probably have no clue. What right did you have to know before the people who’d met him years ago? Whoever the hell were you to butt in on this boy’s life? Even if he’d become one of your closest friends. I do not want to make Remus uncomfortable. I do not want Remus to hate me for prying. “I.. uh.. Do you like golf?” You improvised, almost cringing at yourself for how stupid your question had been. 

“Golf?” He asked with a frown.

“Aha…” you continued “the muggle sport, Golf. With uhm.. sticks and small balls,” you then made a little golf swing with your hands. 

“Yeah, I know Golf,” he responded, still confused “Never played it tho.” 

“Me neither,” you responded honestly “This character though,” you pointed to the book “Seems like- very obsessed with it.” 

Remus frowned and leaned forward on the bed, to try and get a glimpse of the book, you remembered that you were literally on the page about the scars on the werewolf’s body and you instantly dropped the book. It closed shut on the floor. You leaned down “Oh no, I lost my page.” Maybe you were a worse liar than Tom in the end. 

Remus arched an eyebrow as he saw you leaning on the floor, you looked rather desperate. 

“You okay?” You nodded and sat back on the chair. “So… how was it? spicy?” 

“Not much so far,” you responded honestly “just very in-depth descriptions of the male lead’s toned abdomen from the time they went to swim on a lake together.” 

Remus nodded, maybe he’d have to borrow the book from you at some point. “And you’re liking it?” 

“Plot’s good, yeah. Very enlightening.” 

“Enlightening?” He asked, not quite understanding how abs would be enlightening, but who knows, maybe they are. 

“Mhm…” you said when you realised the slip-up “What about your book?” you decided to drag the subject away from the spicy werewolf book and onto the one Remus had instead. 

“I’m loving it, actually. I didn’t know you had such great taste in books.” 

You smiled at the compliment “The portrait of Dorian Gray is an absolute classic, it has some of the most killer quotes I’ve read in my life.” 

“Nowadays people know the price of everything–“ he started.

“–and value nothing…” you finished the quote for him, “And there are so many others, you won’t be able to stop.” You told him with a smile, “Like… the only way to get rid of temptation, is–“ 

“–to yield to it.” He said at the same time as you did, a certain glimmer in his eyes when he did. 

Out if nowhere the images of the kiss you’d had at Marlene’s party came back to Remus, he remembered how soft and gentle you’d been, he remembered how your hand over his shoulder had felt, how kind your lips had been to his, how you’d tasted of fresh berries and potions, how after the kiss was over you looked genuinely pleased but cracked a joke to ease the tension, how contagious your laugh had been… how sweet you smelled that day, always with a hint of Sirius’ scent from how close you were to each other. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s dating Sirius! She’s dating Sirius –my crush best friend– Black, he thought. He snapped himself out of it as soon as he could, coughing up a couple of times to clear his throat. 

You looked at him, with a bit of concern and stood up, quickly walking towards the nightstand to pour some water on a glass and hand it over to him, he took it, fingers brushing against your small hands. He cursed himself for feeling something when they did, he’d rather feel nothing at all. Why must you be so kind?, he thought as you waited for him to finish drinking, to put the glass back in his place.  “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

You just smiled kindly “That’s what friends are for.” No, he thought, the boys were rarely as attentive as you were, and Lily, well Lily rarely visited after the full moon, even if she always took a moment to ask if he was feeling alright. Maybe that was why he was feeling so weird all of a sudden, he just wasn’t used to being cared for the way you cared for him. He then started to wonder if you were that nice to everyone, or only to your closest friends, he wanted to know if you also carried around Peter’s or Prong’s favourite treats in your bag, or if you had ever given chocolate to Tom, Alex or Teddy, if you borrowed books to Lily, or if you laughed along Nina the same way you did with him, he felt a tiny pang of jealousy when he imagined those things happening. Remus, stop it! he told himself, by then you’d already sat back in your seat, and found yourself engrossed in your book. Or at least you were pretending to be, in really you were still cursing yourself for asking if he liked golf. 

When you noticed he was staring you turned to him with a diverted smile “Do I have something in my face?” 

He seemed to be snapped out of his own thoughts “What?” 

“You were staring,” you told him, pretending to be uninterested as you still looked at the book, in reality, you were wondering if maybe he’d heard you ask if he was a werewolf and if he was considering how to kick you out of his life for butting in on his private business. 

“Ah…” he acknowledged “I wasn’t…. I was thinking of last night’s accident,” he lied. 

“Of course,” you responded, “Grindylows must’ve  been horrifying.” 

He nodded, absentmindedly and the two returned to your respective books. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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Raead more Marauders Fiction

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 63: Behind the Curtains

Previous chapters // Montserrat’s masterlist

Fandom: SVU // Pairing: Rafael Barba x OC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @abzidabzy​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @hellofutur​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xovalliegirlxo @sam-i–am @kmc1989 @midmourn @choosejoyangel @rebeccapineapple @duckybird101 @caplanbuckybarnes ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message

Author's Note:

I just want to thank everyone who's been reaching out about this story. The amount of comments I get on this particular fic is so amazing. So many people are invested in this story and ask me when I'll be updating again. I really love all YOUR love for this story so I've gone back to keep writing more chapters for this (I think you'll r e a ll y love the next chapter btw, it's got some good angst ;)). Again, thank you soooo much!

Olivia would only be surprised with Rafael's sudden visit to the precinct for about five minutes. It was completely him to pull this kind of stunt when he still had plenty of time to rest before returning to work. She was guilty of doing the same thing in the past.

"You know you're supposed to be resting, right? Like in a bed and in a room...?" Olivia closed her office door then went to help Rafael reach the couch, an action he shooed her away for.

"Officially, I am at home," he replied, managing to sit on his own with no problem. Olivia liked to see the good sign.

"Officially?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "How'd you pull this one?" There was no way in hell that Montserrat would allow this if she knew.

"Montserrat's got a therapy session and I told her my mother was coming over anyways. She won't ever know that I was here if you help me out..." To his credit, Rafael did seem genuinely guilty when he explained himself.

"I see…" Olivia nodded as she took a seat on the couch beside him.

"I hate it, I know," Rafael said, as if Olivia was reproaching him for his lie. He hated himself for lying to Montserrat. She had been nothing but helpful and so concerned about him. He hated doing this... "I needed to talk to you without her around."

"I could have just as easily gone to see you. There's no need to push yourself more than you have to right now."

"Now you're sounding like Montserrat."

"Well, you know, she kind of has a point."

"She usually always does," sighed Rafael, "Lucky for me, the peanut gallery wasn't out there," he made a nod at the bullpen.

"There's an ongoing case," Olivia explained the absence of her squad. "So, how are you?"

Rafael raised a hand at her and shook it. "I'm not here for me. I want to know about the case." He had a limited window here and wanted to use every minute he had.

"But you also need to take care of yourself," Olivia said, and Rafael rolled his eyes at her. "You were shot — there were moments where we thought you weren't going to make it. Speaking from my experience, you have your own issues to handle too."

"I understand, but I promise that I'm okay," Rafael said, "I'm not traumatized — I have seen worse."

"What's worse than getting shot?" Olivia said incredulously.

"Not knowing when the person responsible will finally go after his real target: the woman that I love." Rafael had maintained a straight face when he responded, not even fazed with the gaping look on Olivia's face.

"Uh…okay…" Olivia tried her darn best to get past the vital information she just learned, for the sake of her two very good friends and the circumstances that were surrounding them. "Well…officially, the case has gone cold…"

"But unofficially?"

"Unofficially, we're still working it."

"And who's this 'we'?" Rafael demanded.

Olivia let it slide because she knew how troubled he must be with zero answers in his pocket. "Finn. I trust him completely and he won't say anything to anyone."

Rafael could agree with that choice. "So…no one else knows, then?"

Olivia shook her head. "Carisi, Rollins and Amaro think the case is cold and even though we knew beforehand that it looked like a hit, none of them will say anything to Montserrat."

"They better not," Rafael said warningly, "Because that's the last thing she needs right now. I already talked to Clara too so that we have the same story."

"And she's okay with that?" Olivia had only spoken to Clara a few times and sent her right to a counselor because the young girl had been terrified about what happened.

"Yeah," nodded Rafael, "So we can get back to work on this quickly, please."

"We can't rush these things, Rafa," Olivia reminded him, "The case isn't 'cold' but it's not very open either. There's not much to go off by."

"I know that but we can't stop looking either," Rafael said, "Because I know that this was one of the last blows before he goes after what he really wants."

Olivia didn't want to openly admit that Rafael was right. She had worked SVU for too long to not know the usual patterns criminals — including rapists — exhibited. It just so happened that this criminal was waiting a bit longer than usual. She detested that in this situation, what the man wanted was her friend. The ultimate target was Montserrat, and she had no idea about it.

In all the time that Olivia spent thinking silently, Rafael had not stopped looking at her. He was waiting for her to admit it because once it was out in the open they could move on and work towards the solution. It was the only way they could continue to work. His insides twisted each time he thought about that man.

That man wanted Montserrat. He thought about her like he had some claim on her. He thought she belonged to him.

"We need to find this guy," Rafael said, his jaw clenched, "Fast."

Olivia sensed the growing anger and so treaded carefully. "We have to be smart about this—"

"I know—"

"—because according to the little that we have—"

"I know."

"—there's no reports of any Daniel in the black market."

"I know, Olivia!" Rafael exclaimed. "But we have to at least try to keep searching!" Olivia remained calm in the face of his anger. "Because I know he's going to do something else soon. We already got lucky once—"

"Lucky?" Olivia repeated, her brows raising incredulously. "I don't know if I have to keep reminding you but you got shot," she gestured at him, "That's not 'lucky' in any book."

"You know what I meant," Rafael snapped.

"I don't think I did…"

"Olivia, please. Help me. Help me help her — because that's all that matters here. She is the only thing that matters here!"

Olivia nodded slowly. "I know, and you have to know that I will do anything I can to keep Montserrat safe. At the same time, though, I'd like to make sure you are also safe."

"I will be just fine," Rafael promised. "All I want is to be working on this case. This is the most important case I've ever dealt with. Nothing can be left to chance."

Olivia would have liked to point out that if this case actually went to trial, Rafael would not be allowed to prosecute it. He wouldn't be allowed anywhere near it. She suspected that he may have either chosen to forget it or he was filing it under 'deal with later'.

"Well, looking into the details, I can tell you right now that we don't have a lot," Olivia repeated, sighing, "The guy who shot you—"

"It wasn't Daniel," Rafael said immediately, waving a hand dismissively. "He was just a hired hitman."

"Okay, right," nodded Olivia, "but that guy was wearing a mask. Clara wasn't able to give anything unique about the guy. Could you?"

"No," Rafael muttered, "He was all covered up. If I heard his voice again, I'd be able to recognize him."

"How about we start small then," Olivia's suggestion was met with a blatant rejection.

"We can't do that, not when we have a clear path," Rafael said, prompting Olivia to ask what he had in mind. "Let's go after the one clear name we do have."

Olivia raised an eyebrow at him. "Who's name do we have?" she asked, puzzled.

Rafael didn't think twice with his answer. "Hallie D'Amico."

Olivia's eyes widened, her mouth opening with shock. "I know you were shot but are you insane?" She stood up from the couch, taking a few steps away to contemplate such an absurd idea.

Rafael took the opportunity to lean back on the couch and adjust his position to ease his side. It didn't hurt as much as it used to, although Montserrat loved to exaggerate. "I've thought about it, Liv—"

"Oh, really?" Olivia spun around, shooting him a sharp look. "So I bet you told Montserrat about this already?"

Rafael's silence was answer enough.

"Rafael, c'mon, what are you thinking!?"

"Of course I wasn't going to tell her!" Rafael exclaimed. "Because I know exactly what she's going to say—"

"That you're crazy?" Olivia tilted her head. "Gotta say, I might have to agree with her on that one."

"Olivia—"

"Visiting Hallie D'Amico in prison is a crazy idea!"

"Oli—"

"She's in jail for a reason, she's not going to give up Daniel—"

"Liv!" Rafael yelled over Olivia's words to get her attention. He looked at her sharply. "I know that my idea isn't easy, but it is the most logical. If this were any other case, one of you would have already coined the idea. Lie to me and say I'm wrong."

Olivia wouldn't take his challenge but she didn't want to admit that he was right either. She shook her head and started pacing. "This wouldn't work," she said, sounding like she was starting to consider the idea. "Montserrat testified against her. Hallie knows that Montserrat was a UC — for all we know, she could have put the hit on you as revenge."

"No," Rafael said on the spot, "I know it was Daniel. I know it was him."

Olivia sighed and stopped pacing, looking at Rafael with a certain sympathy. "I know this is hard for you—"

"Don't," Rafael warned her to stop, "Don't…don't do the empathy talk."

"That's not what I'm doing—"

"It's what you always do for the victims. I know you, Liv," Rafael said, "And you don't need to do that with me. Montserrat's told me about this woman and I've looked into her case. D'Amico went down for drug trafficking but there was never any sexual assault accusations about her ring."

"A drug dealer with some scruples? Am I supposed to congratulate her on that?"

"I'm not saying she should get a medal but it does go to say that she has something against those kinds of crimes," Rafael said, shrugging, "That's a line she didn't cross. Montserrat said that she confided in D'Amico about Daniel's advances towards her and that D'Amico tried moving Montserrat away from him."

Olivia hadn't known about that detail and as such became interested. She slowly returned to her seat on the couch, listening attentively.

"We could believe for a moment that D'Amico wouldn't stand for that kind of stuff from her own ring — the fact is that she's in jail and Daniel is in possession of her work." Rafael smirked widely. "If we piss her off the right way, she'll give us his full name and we build a case from there."

Olivia always knew that Rafael was a fantastic prosecutor making cases and arguments, but this one took the cake. He took a crazy idea and morphed it into the only logical, sensible thing to do. She let out a long sigh and leaned back on the couch. "If Montserrat finds out about this…she's going to shoot us both."

"Well, I already got shot and you're her boss so we might get off with a warning," Rafael shrugged. "Me, probably a smack — and you a stink eye."

Olivia couldn't believe that was his argument; she laughed. Hearing her laugh, made Rafael laugh. For a split moment, they were friends just saying nonsense.

~ 0 ~

Montserrat was livid when she returned to the apartment and found it empty. "Oh, if you weren't dead before you will be now!" she said as soon as Rafael walked in through the door.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a little smile, "I couldn't help it." Things ran a little later at the precinct than he had expected, but it was all for a good reason. He and Olivia were working to find the right moment to visit D'Amico. He wanted to be present, despite Olivia's reluctance, and so that meant he would have to find an opportunity to get away from Montserrat. That was the major problem at the moment.

"You lied to me," Montserrat accused, striding over to him, immediately looking him over, "You're not supposed to be out on the streets yet."

"Calmate," Rafael said, resting his hands on her arms, "Calm down. I just went to the office. I had to, I'm sorry, but I had to."

"No, you didn't," Montserrat sighed, "But that's what I get for daring to believe you'd be intelligent about this stuff."

"Intelligent?" Rafael frowned. "Are you implying that I'm stupid?"

Montserrat smiled as she innocently pressed out his shoulders. "Because I said that I was going to be nicer while you're injured, I won't answer that...right now."

Rafael deadpanned her for a long while. "Strangely, that wasn't a nice answer either."

Montserrat's smile widened. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I already told you — the office. I have cases that are piling up."

"No," Montserrat said sharply, "Those cases are being handled by a substitute prosecutor. You, my dear, have no reason to be at that office right now. I don't want you exerting yourself."

"I promise you that I'm not," Rafael said, bringing his hands to her face, "Just doing a walk here and there. Besides, you promised me that you wouldn't get so worked up about me picking up a few cases here and there."

"From home," Montserrat reminded him. "We agreed that you could work from here."

"Right, but I still needed to pick some things up," Rafael said, and dealt with the less than believing gaze Montserrat had on him. She was too smart for her own good and in this case, he really needed her to not be anything close to that. "C'mon," he insisted, "I stopped by and saw Liv too. Had a nice normal conversation. Distractions, you know?"

Montserrat shook her head disapprovingly. "You know what? Let's just move on before you give me gray hairs — oh, and by the way—" She had just pointed at Rafael when he warned her to stop right there. Montserrat laughed right in his face. "It's alright, you only have a couple—"

"Montserrat!"

"Kidding! But I mean, I think you'd look very nice with a few gray hairs here and there."

Rafael rolled his eyes. "You know what? I'm actually very tired. Whether I like to admit it or not, the walking and moving altogether did exhaust me a bit."

Montserrat dropped the laughs and jokes when he said that. "Are you—?"

"I'm okay," Rafael cut her off, knowing damn well her concerns had returned in a second. "Just tired, that's all."

"Do you want to go rest?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I think I actually do. Turn in early."

"Okay—"

"With you."

Montserrat blinked and slowly started to smile. Her entire body relaxed within minutes. "Okay," she nodded, "I like that idea."

They left their things in the living room, Rafael being very careful not to leave his "paperwork" out in the open where Monsterrat could accidentally come across it. He would come back for it later when she was asleep.

~ 0 ~

"You know I talked to your mother earlier. I bumped into her at the grocery store," Montserrat confessed once they were settled in bed. She snuggled up to Rafael's side, careful not to hurt him in the process.

Rafael groaned. "Oh God, what did she say now?" He could just see his mother being nitty-gritty about the things Montserrat picked up in the store.

"Nothing," Montserrat chuckled. "She's been real good to me ever since we brought you home from the hospital. I mean, she has her moments but it's been okay overall."

"She better be." Rafael was not afraid to have another go with his mother. Although, he was glad that the first "go" had been successful. He didn't like arguing with her either. "So, if she wasn't being mean, what did she say?"

"She asked about you, how you were doing and all that stuff. She also mentioned that you haven't called her once since you left the hospital." Montserrat tilted her head up to look at him. "Says maybe I'm distracting you."

"And there it is…" Rafael had to draw in a breath to ease himself. Of course his mother would say stupid nonsense like that, especially if he wasn't around. "I'm sorry," he said, sighing.

Montserrat chuckled. "Don't worry about it. She caught me off guard but it's nothing." Course she wouldn't tell him how she reacted at the store, how her been a sputtering mess for five minutes right in public. "I told her you were just resting most of the time."

"I'm still going to talk to her," Rafael decided, because knowing his mother this wouldn't be the last time a comment like that left her mouth.

"Your choice," Montserrat shrugged. She rested her head on his chest again, beginning to feel the wisps of sleep coming for her. "Also called my dad."

"Oh, and how'd that go?" Rafael heard Montserrat's faint intake of breath. He moved his hand on her back, gently rubbing up and down.

"Okay," Montserrat yawned, "Wants to have dinner with us soon."

"We still haven't done that," Rafael actually laughed. It hurt less now. "Seems like we've been planning that for ages now."

"I know," Montserrat mused, "Maybe we can make it a dinner/'you're all better' celebration? That way we can invite everyone, not just my family?"

"Would be a lot better for me…" Rafael said, thinking it over. It would at least give him excuses to talk to Olivia and Fin about the ongoing case. "I like it," he decided. "We can do it this week, if you want."

Montserrat scoffed. "Nice try. You're still out from work for at least another month."

"You really want me to stay on the couch all day, huh? You realize you're going to have to sustain my lifestyle, right?"

Montserrat rolled her eyes at him.

"I mean — I like expensive scotch, you know that. And there always has to be sweets in the cabinet and let's not mention—"

"If you value your life, you'll go to sleep right now."

Rafael laughed to himself. "So much for my lovely nurse."

"Be quiet."

Rafael held Montserrat closer to him. He suspected that she had no idea just how much he actually loved her. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you for everything."

Montserrat thought his sudden gratitude was questionable — perhaps it was a tactic to appease her when she sounded so annoyed by him?

"I really don't know what I would do without you," Rafael continued, absent-mindedly running his fingers up and down Montserrat's back.

"Are you okay?" She had to ask. She shifted her head enough to catch his eye.

Rafael smiled at her. "I can't tell you 'thank you' without you questioning my health?"

A bashful smile crossed Montserrat's face. "Sorry, you're just not very talkative sometimes which is quite the contradiction to you when you're at work."

"You always say that I have a big mouth."

"Yeah, to give sass and snark, but you're not exactly the kind to talk about, you know, feelings and stuff like that."

"I know," Rafael sighed, admitting defeat to that one. "And I should be more but—"

"It's alright," Montserrat chuckled lightly, "I like the way you are. And even though sometimes you don't say the words, you do what you want to say. I understand your language and I love it. Just like I love you."

Everything she said just confirmed what Rafael already knew and felt. He felt so lucky with her at his side. "And I love you." He pressed a kiss on her forehead but Montserrat beat him to it and instead kissed him on the lips. Much sweeter indeed.

He wished he could move more easily to kiss her more but it just wasn't possible.

Montserrat pulled away from him wearing another smile. "You should rest now."

Rafael didn't take her suggestion with the most enthusiasm. She laughed in response. She grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him again. She could honestly kiss him for hours but alas, he had to rest and like the good nurse that she was, she drew away again.

"Sleep," she patted a hand on his chest. "Now."

"Something tells me it's not a suggestion," Rafael said, feigning suspicion.

"Mm, smart man," Montserrat wagged a finger at him.

"Stay with me?"

"Always." Montserrat snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his chest. She would end up falling asleep with him in no time.

[plaidpajamallama]

(You scared me) RHEA RIPLEY X JEY USO

Chapter 19 part 2

_________________________________________________

Come on, Rhea, come with us. Naomi begged, It’s my birthday!

I’m sorry, I can’t.

Fuck my brother; he’s an idiot anyway. Come for me, please.

Naomi I-

Please, big mama

She giggled. I can’t; it will be weird. Naomi

Ugh! What’s the point of having a sister if we can’t hang out?

We can—we are hanging out.

But you won’t come to my birthday party, she said, folding her arms.

I’ll make it up to you, I promise, okay?

Fine, okay, but you're coming next time.

Sure I’ll come next time.

Let me know if you change your mind.

I won’t. I’ll be sitting in my nice warm bed.

She chuckled. I’ll see you later.

Ok, see you later. She said, walking away with a smile on her face.

She went back to their hotel room, sitting down on the bed, kicking her shoes off.

Her phone buzzed; she picked it up. It was Naomi asking if she was sure she didn’t want to come.

And she was sure

She climbed up into bed, turning the TV on.

Jey had tried talking to her again before she left, but she wasn’t having it. He didn’t want to talk to her at work, then she wasn’t going to talk to him at work.

It might be a little petty, but she didn’t care; she wanted him to get it; she wanted him to understand what she felt.

How it hurt when he ignored her at work

Her phone buzzed again. A smile came across her face knowing it was Naomi.

Naomi was sitting in the passenger seat. Jimmy was driving while Jey was in the backseat.

So, what do you do? Jimmy said, turning his head towards him.

I didn’t do anything, Uce. What are you talking bout?

Pfff, you did something because you're here with us and not her.

Naomi turned around in her seat. Yeah, what did your dumbass do?

He sucked his teeth. Damn, why does it have to be my fault?

'Cause it’s always your fault, uce.

Tell us what you did, and we’ll decide if it’s your fault. Naomi chimed in.

He rolled his eyes. We're fighting because I had been ignoring her, I guess. I don’t know; he pinched the bridge of his nose.

You’re ignoring her! Naomi hit his knee. I would be mad too.

Ow! Just at work, I don’t need her in our bullshit, he said, gesturing between him and Jimmy.

Jimmy shook his head. You're scary, uce.

He scoffed, I’m not—

Yes, you are, and you always have been, and being with Roman isn't helping that.

He fell back in his seat with a huff.

Your scary uce is nothing wrong with that, but you let your paranoia get in the way of shit.

Paranoia? I’m not—

You have been worried about Roman since last week about what he said on the bus.

That’s not paranoia; that’s just

He couldn’t find the words for it properly because he was right. He crossed his arms, pouting.

Yeah, he’s not wrong. You are paranoid sometimes.

She put a hand on his knee. You can’t let it mess up your relationship; you can’t let Roman ruin things for you.

He ran a hand over his face. I know, I know.

So then don’t let him

He signed; I won't. I'm going to fix it.

I hope so. She loves you, and I don’t want to have to fight you if you break her heart. She chuckled.

He chuckled. Yeah, I won’t.

Okay, come on, you too. Let’s go celebrate something wins. Jimmy said, jumping out of the car

He laughed, hopping out as well.

_________________________________________________

Rhea was walking to her car, pulling her suitcase behind her. God, her eye hurt; she was going to make Raquel hurt even more.

As she walked up to her car, she saw someone standing on it.

She knew it was Jey; she didn’t even have to get closer to know it was him.

She had ignored him all day. He tried to talk to her, but she kept brushing him off, telling him, “We’re at work.”

She opened her trunk, getting his attention.

What do you want? She said putting her suitcase in the trunk

Oh, you're going to talk to me now?

Mmh, we’re not at work, so

He rolled his eyes. Rhea, can we be serious?

I am being serious, serious as you would be.

Okay, I get it. Will you talk to me?

About what?

About us: about our fight

She closed the trunk, crossing her arms and giving him her full attention.

I shouldn’t have walked out on you the other night; it wasn’t right. I got carried away. I’m sorry, he said, grabbing her hand.

I did too, but this doesn’t change what I said, Jey. I meant everything I said.

I know he ran a hand through his hair, and you’re right; I shouldn’t have ignored you. It was wrong. No matter what, you’re my girl; you deserve my attention wherever and whenever it doesn’t matter.

She sighed. Jey, it's not—

Yes, it is. I don’t care anymore. He gripped her hand tighter. Fuck all that; I don’t care.

She let go of his hand, bringing both of her own to her face. You say that now, but what about later down the road when Roman needs your help again?

Right now he doesn’t need me. you need me I... I need you, Rhea.

Her eyes widened. Jey, it’s not that simple, and you know it.

What do you want me to do tell him?

That’s not what I’m saying.

Then what are you saying?

She huffed. I don’t know; she brought her hands to her face, letting out a hiss as her hand touched her eye.

Are you okay? Jey said, reaching for her hand,

She took a step back for him. I’m fine.

He grabbed her hand off her face. I don’t give a fuck if we’re fighting; if you're hurt, you tell me! There was a look of worry on his face before he let go of her wrist.

I’m okay. The doctor said to ice it; he recommended I take it easy; you know I'm okay.

She reached her hand into his hair. Are you okay? I saw you took a nasty hit backstage.

I’m good, baby. Are we?

Jay-

He backed up from her, letting her hand fall. Rhea He ran his hands over his face. Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll do it.

Jay I’m not going to tell you what to do; that’s not what we’re doing, she said, gesturing to them.

That’s... not... it’s... he took a breath. That’s not what I meant. I want to fix this shit.

I do too, but as long as you're worried about Roman,

We can’t—

He shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, “Always fault ruined.” Those were the only words she could make out.

Jay

I got to go I’ll see you whenever I guess.

Jey, you're just

He walked off before she could finish her sentence, rubbing the back of his neck.

She got in her car, just sitting there for a moment.

Fuck! She let her head fall against the headrest.

She didn’t want to fuck this up. She cared about him; she didn’t want to lose him because of something so stupid.

She always did this when shit got hard; she got scared, and she was scared of so much stuff right now.

She wasn’t supposed to be scared. She was the eradicator, the nightmare in your dreams. She bought the brutality,

and she was messed up over a boy a boy who moved on pretty quickly from her and she was still messed up over him

and now it was bleeding into this one God she was gonna fuck this up just like she fucked up her last one

She blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes she wasn’t gonna cry she told herself she wasn’t gonna cry

_________________________________________________

The New day breaking up broke me and Jey got hurt on the same night it’s so jover 😭 -🖤

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 12

A/N: We're fast approaching the end here, but have no fear! There's at least three chapters after this one! Still, I hope everyone sticks around. The end will be worth it; I promise! ICYMI, this is the time travel/soulmate AU between Elvis and a fem!reader. We pick up in 2018/1968.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~3.5k

After a deep breath, you walk through the portal together and find yourselves outside the studio in 2018.

******

Luckily, Elvis has his drivers license from your time in his wallet. He's kept it with him just in case he happened to need it, so you're able to fly together back to your mom's house to get John Jessie.

When you pull up in front of the house, it hits you that you're going to have to introduce Elvis to your mother. You fidget with the ring on your finger and sit in the car without moving.

"Honey? Are we going in?"

"I just hope my mother buys the story."

"The story?"

"I tell people that you are gone for work. Most people don't question it, but this is my mother. She knows me. I just hope she can't tell I'm lying. She doesn't even know I'm married."

"Is it a problem that I'm here?"

"I hope not. She might say something about the fact that you haven't been around before."

"That's not my fault."

"Well, I know that, but I'm not sure she'll buy it."

"Okay. I can handle whatever she says. Let's just go inside. I want to see him."

You take a deep breath and get out of the car. He walks around and takes your hand, kissing your fingers reassuringly.

"I love you, El-"

"John. I love you too, honey. It'll be okay."

"Right. John."

You walk up to the door and knock gently. Your mom hollers from inside.

"Just a second!" After a few minutes, she opens the door with John Jessie on her hip. "Oh, y/n, you brought... who is this?"

Elvis puts his hand on your back to steady you.

"This is John Jessie's father, Mom, John Burrows."

"Oh. Oh my. Well, come on in." She pushes the screen door open and lets you both walk in the door. You can tell Elvis is itching to grab his son and hold him, but your mom has a tight grip on him.

"Mom, can we have a minute? Please?" She turns to Elvis.

"You've never seen him before, have you?"

"No ma'am." You notice Elvis blushing and step in to help.

"John works for the government. When he's on assignment, there's no way to reach him. I couldn't tell him about John Jessie until yesterday." You're a little shocked at how smoothly the lie comes out of you. Still, this is the answer you always give when asked about your husband; he's "on assignment". You never expected to tell it to your mom, though. She looks back and forth between you both skeptically for a second.

"Can I hold him? Please?" Elvis's tone is so sincere, though, that she melts. She carefully hands over John Jessie.

"Mom. A minute, please?" She nods slowly and leaves the room.

As soon as she's gone, Elvis holds John Jessie to himself and lets the tears stream down his face silently. He talks quietly to him and bounces lightly. John Jessie seems to sense that Elvis is familiar for some reason because he doesn't cry or try to wiggle away. He just lets Elvis hold him and listens to his voice. Elvis sits on the couch with him and his tears turn to laughter as he plays with his son. You sit on the couch next to him and wipe your own tears away. You never thought this would be possible. He realizes you're still crying and puts one hand on your thigh as he holds John Jessie with the other.

"Our son is amazing. Thank you, y/n." You nod and lay your head on his shoulder.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too, honey." He kisses your hair and John Jessie squeals and pats on Elvis's chest. "Can we take him home?"

"Of course." You call to your mom to help you pack up his things. As you pack, she nods to Elvis.

"He's wearing a wedding ring."

"Yeah. Well." You hold up your hand and show her your ring. "So am I."

Your mom looks at you in utter shock.

"We've been married for two years. He's just been gone the whole time."

"Is he back for good now?"

"No. He's only here for a few days."

Your mom grabs you and pulls you into a hug. She's been worried about you for so long, maybe even been judging you a little for getting pregnant randomly. But now that she knows more about your situation, she understands how hard this must've been for you.

Elvis sits on the floor and continues playing with John Jessie as you finish packing all of his things. Your mom watches and then turns to you again.

"He seems like a good man."

"He is."

"Are you happy?"

"Yes, when he's here. It's hard to be without him."

"I bet it is. I'm sorry sweetie; I had no idea."

"It's okay. It's the only way we can be together and I'd rather be with him when I can than not at all."

"You really love him."

"I do. And he loves me."

Your mom nods and you grab the last few things to pack. As you go to say goodbye, your mom kisses John Jessie in his car seat. Then, she turns to Elvis and gives him a hug.

"It was nice to meet you. I hope we'll get to see you again soon."

"Thank you, ma'am."

He carries the car seat to the car and you show him how to click it into the base.

"Well, these things have changed a little in the last 50 years." You laugh.

"That's an understatement."

You get into the car on the passenger side and let Elvis drive you back to your house. John Jessie falls asleep in the car and you revel in the joy of having your family together, even if it's just for a few days.

******

You spend the next six days in domestic bliss. Elvis proves to be exactly the kind of father you thought he'd be. He's playful, caring, patient, and affectionate. One night, you wake up to an empty bed and panic a little. But you find him in John Jessie's room, rocking him and singing quietly. Once he lays the baby back down, he walks to you in the doorway and wraps you in his arms, kissing your cheek.

"You're an unbelievable father."

"I'm just so happy to be here with you both." His smile is so genuine that it breaks your heart.

"I wish you could stay forever."

"I do too, honey. But this isn't the last time I'll be here, right?"

"No. I've been trying to think of a plan." You walk back to your bedroom and crawl in bed with him, settling with his arm around you and your head on his chest.

"So, a plan?" He asks.

"Well, the portals appear when we're in the same place 50 years apart, right?"

"Yeah."

"What if I tell you where and when to meet me?" He raises his eyebrows like he's thinking it over.

"How would you tell me?"

"Every time you're here, I'll have it planned for the next time."

"I don't see why that wouldn't work. How often are you thinking?"

"Well, I think it would be hard to do it too often. Maybe every few months?" He sighs. It's obvious he doesn't want to be away from you that long.

"That long?"

"If you're here too often, someone might notice that your hair changes or something. And I don't want you to get lost in living two lives."

"Okay. That makes sense. I still wish I could just bring Lisa and come here."

"I know, babe, but you really can't."

"Yeah. I just miss you. And now I'm going to miss him too." He kisses your hair and squeezes you tighter.

"It'll be okay. We'll make it work somehow." You yawn and snuggle into his chest.

"I know, honey. I know." He kisses your hair again and you both settle in to go back to sleep.

******

After six days, you can tell he's getting antsy to get back to his other life. When you have sex that night and the portal appears, he lays his head on your shoulder and sighs.

"You're ready to go, aren't you?"

"I'm so sorry, honey."

"No, it's okay, I understand." He gets up and gathers his things together to go back to where he came from. Once he's ready, he grabs you and holds you close.

"Don't forget. November 18th, California."

"Yes, baby, I know. I'll see you then."

"I wouldn't complain if you're wearing your movie costume. Just sayin'." He smiles and kisses your mouth.

"Whatever you say, honey." With that, he turns and disappears through the portal. You sit on the bed and cry. Will it ever get easier for him to leave you?

******

The answer is no. It never gets any easier. He comes to you in November, and brings his costume from The Trouble with Girls, which makes for some fun times in the bedroom. You spend Thanksgiving together and then he goes back through a portal.

He comes to you again in December and he's there with you for two weeks during Christmas and New Year's. But he leaves on the first and goes back to his own time to have Christmas with Lisa.

You manage to coordinate visits every couple of months for the next year. He watches John Jessie grow and you live as a happily married couple whenever he's around. He goes out with your friends sometimes and you fight and make up just like a real couple.

Somewhere in November of 2019, he has an idea.

"What if we had another baby?"

"Another baby?!"

"Yeah? You've done such a good job with John Jessie. I always wanted more kids."

"What about with Priscilla?" He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"No. I want them with you."

"Well. I guess I could handle two if you come to me as often as you do now."

"Baby, I'm not gonna change the plan unless you do."

You smile widely and he grabs you in his arms and holds you tight. You throw your birth control pills in the trash and practice that night, even though you know he has to leave.

******

He comes back in December for you to have Christmas together. He's careful to bring cash, so he can buy presents for you and John Jessie.

On Christmas Eve, you get John Jessie in bed and sit together in the living room looking at the lights on the Christmas tree. He fetches a small gift from under the tree and puts it in your lap.

"What is this?"

"I want you to open it now." You tear open the wrapping on the small box and then open the box. It's a new ring.

"Oh, Elvis, I can't accept this."

"Yes you can. My wife has been wearing that small diamond for long enough. Please." He pulls the emerald cut three-stone diamond ring out of the box and slides it onto your finger gingerly.

"Elvis, this is like-"

"10 carats. I promised you no less." He wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead.

"Do you like it, honey?"

"I love it so much, babe. Almost as much as I love you." You look up and he kisses your lips. Your relationship has reached the kind of comfortable intimacy that comes with marriage and you're happy to go on like this for as long as you can. You know there's an end date that will come far too soon, but for right now, you're happy together.

"Hey." He whispers in your ear.

"Yeah?"

"Remember when we made love on the floor in front of the fireplace and I proposed to you?"

"After we played in the snow? Of course I remember."

"Do you wanna...?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Mmmm let's go get in bed."

"No, I mean right here."

"What if John Jessie wakes up?" He starts to lay you down on the couch and kisses your neck.

"Then he'll catch us making him a sibling." He drags his tongue up from your neck to your ear and nibbles gently.

"Mmmmm seriously though..." You lose your train of thought as he runs his hand up the front of your sweatshirt and squeezes your naked breast. He runs his thumb over your hardening nipple and groans.

"You really gonna say no, baby?" He rolls his hips into yours and presses his erection into your center. You moan and kiss his lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth.

"No." You whisper against him, smiling.

"That's what I thought." He pulls your sweatshirt up and over your head and then sits up to take his shirt off. Laying back down on top of you, he grinds into you again and groans. "I wanna be inside you so bad, baby."

"Mmmm what are you waiting for?" He sits up again and pulls your pajama pants off of you and situates himself between your legs.

"This first." He kisses the inside of one thigh and then the other. Then, he slides his tongue into your slit and pushes it in and out over and again. You whimper and bite your lip trying to stay quiet. He moves his tongue up to your clit and swirls it around in a circle. You run your fingers through his hair and he smiles.

"Don't stop!" You whisper.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his mouth to you and begins to lick you vigorously, over and around and up and down each side. The sensation of his tongue on your most sensitive place is so intensely good that you forget yourself for a moment and moan loudly.

"Elvisssss."

"Honey, you're gonna wake the boy." He whispers, backing off of you. You nod and move his head back down to your center. This time he adds two fingers and slips them inside you to tickle the place that drives you crazy. You whimper again and squirm under him. The electricity is gathering in your core and you feel your orgasm approaching. He feels your walls flutter and flattens his tongue against you. Then, he pulls back for just a second.

"Come for daddy, baby." The subtle vibration runs through you and he tightens his tongue and licks you hard.

"Mmm yesssss..." You hiss as your climax sets you on fire and runs through you in waves. He keeps right on licking you as you ride the high of your orgasm. Once you come back down to earth, he backs off of you and wipes his mouth with his hand. You sit up and pull his pajama pants off, pushing him into a sitting position. He strokes himself as you put one knee on either side of his hips. Then, he grabs yours and guides you as you sink onto his rock hard cock.

"Fuck yes, baby." He groans softly as he slides inside you. It doesn't matter how many times you do this, the feeling of him filling you perfectly is something that'll never get old. He moves his hands up to cup your breasts as you begin to grind on him, pushing him deeper and deeper inside you. You move on him faster and he leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. Then, without any warning, he grabs you around the waist and flips you over on your back without pulling out of you.

You whimper with the change in position and he starts driving into you passionately. With each thrust, he grunts and slams into you harder. He holds your hip with one hand and fucks you so deeply you want to scream it feels so good. But you don't, in case John Jessie hears you.

"God, I love your pussy." He groans quietly. "I'm gonna come, honey."

"Good. Put a baby in me." He groans again and then pounds into you and shudders.

"Fuck yes!" He yells and then looks around quickly. "Oh shit."

He pumps weakly a few more times and then lays his head on your shoulder without pulling out. You're in this position together breathing heavily and sweating when you hear a door open and tiny feet coming toward you. In half a second, Elvis grabs the blanket on the back of the couch and throws it over his back, but he doesn't move otherwise.

"Daddy? Santa here? What doin'?" You hear his little not-quite-three-year-old voice. Elvis pops his head up and looks at him over the armrest.

"No, Buddy, Santa didn't come yet. Go back to bed; I'll be there in just a minute." You try to sink into the couch and not make a sound. The last thing you need is for him to come looking for you.

"You comin'?"

"Yep, buddy, in more ways than one. I'll see you in a little bit, okay? Go get back in your bed." You hear his little feet as he makes his way back to his bedroom and closes the door. Thank God he went back on his own. Elvis collapses on your shoulder and laughs quietly.

"I told you we would get caught!" You whisper as you laugh.

"Yeah, but it was worth it." He kisses your cheek and your mouth and then pulls out of you and sits up. You grab your clothes and get dressed as he does the same. When he goes to walk to John Jessie's room, he almost walks through the portal, but you grab the back of his shirt just in time.

"Shit, it's a night of close calls." He leans over and kisses you gently. "I'd be lost without you. I love you so much, baby. I'll see you in bed."

He goes to your son's room and you hear him talking to him in a reassuring voice. As you go to your bedroom and climb in bed, you have one thought: how did you get so lucky?

******

On New Year's Day you prepare to say your goodbyes. But you've done this so many times that even though it doesn't get easier, it does become more of a routine. Once you finish making love and the portal appears, he puts back on the clothes that he had on when he came through while you grab John Jessie from his nap. He kisses both of you and looks over at the portal.

"I'll be back in March for his birthday. I love you both so much. I'll see you soon."

"I love you too, Elvis." He puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'll miss you every minute."

"I know, babe, but it's only a few months." He nods and kisses your cheek again. Then, he turns and walks through the portal. It disappears with a pop and you try to swallow your tears. You fail, like always, and they slide down your cheeks while you hold John Jessie close. Only a few months until he's back.

******

Two things happen in those months. First, you find out you're pregnant again. And you're ecstatic and can't wait to tell Elvis when you see him in March. This visit increases in importance and you count the days.

But a second thing happens in the months leading up to March of 2020. A new virus hits the world and everything changes. You sit in terror watching the tv as people begin to die and the country begins to shut down. Between John Jessie and the new baby in your belly, you know you can't risk going out. Still, you plan to wear two masks and go to Vegas to meet Elvis.

And then Vegas shuts down. You consider what might happen if Elvis comes to you and then takes Coronavirus back to 1970.

There's no way you can take that risk. Or risk either of your babies' lives by traveling. The date of your rendezvous comes and goes and you still sit hunkered in your house. Surely it'll be safe enough again someday for you to find him?

In the meantime, you hold yourself and cry harder than you have in a long time. Will you ever see him again?

******

Elvis waits in the meeting place all day. He cancels his evening shows and sits on the floor, head spinning. His heart is beating so fast and his hands are sweating.

What happened to you? You've never missed a meeting point before. And he has a sinking feeling that he can't explain like something terrible has happened. Eventually, the tears fall and one of his guys finds him holding his knees, head on his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey, EP, what's going on? Are you okay?" The only thing he says in return is something that doesn't make any sense to anyone around.

"Why didn't she come for me?"

******

Until next time!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @tacozebra051