#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

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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[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

[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.” 

[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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[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:

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The Babysitter (6)

Catching A Liar

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 6- W/c 2.3k

Catching A Liar

Knocking on the door of the Maximoff residences, your eyes widened when the door revealed mesmerising green eyes instead of the impatient blue, Wanda smiling at you softly as you stood awkwardly on her doorstep. She motions you to follow her inside, following behind her until you're guided into the kitchen, her sitting back at her seat while her hands pick up her coffee mug, taking a small sip while you sit near her, eyes scanning around for the twins.

"I am supposed to be babysitting tonight, aren't I?" Confusion is evident in your voice making the older woman chuckle, her laugh making your heart flutter as she softly gazes at you.

"Yes dear," she places her drink down, crossing her legs over in her seat. "Vision just couldn't pick up the boys today so I did," she explains, nodding your head in understanding before she continues, "I'm also working from home today so I was wondering if you could maybe take the twins out for me? Just to the park?"

"Yeah, that's no problem," you sigh out, leaning back in the seat and letting your fingers play with the end of your jumper, "Can I ask Natasha to come?" Wanda's eyebrows raise at your question, "She can bring Fanny over as well for the boys to play with." Natasha had asked you earlier if you wanted to join her and Yelena walking Fanny at the park this evening, but you had to deny due to babysitting the twins.

"Yeah, I don't see why not," she says, an indecipherable expression on her face. "Vis mentioned that she dropped you off the other day," she murmurs before taking another sip of her drink innocently, you flushing at the sight of her peering over the rim of her mug at you, "Mentioned that you two seemed rather close." You grow nervous as she speaks, scared she'll judge you or not agree with the way you are.

"We're just friends," you say, a smile gracing her lips at the news before she catches onto your nervous state.

"There would be nothing wrong if you were more than friends," she states, the almost jealous tone to her voice oblivious to you, furrowing your brows as Vision had clearly stated otherwise.

"But Vision said..." you trail off, looking away from the captivating green and glancing down at your fingers, "He wouldn't be comfortable with anyone... like that."

"Vision is very traditional in his beliefs," she grits out, clenching her jaw a little, danger flashing behind her eyes. "Sometimes I don't even know why I married him," she mutters quietly, you unable to hear the comment as anger builds in her, knowing her husband was mean and homophobic to you made her see red. "But I am perfectly fine with you looking after the boys no matter what," you smile shyly at her, the angelic smile on her face and comforting look in her eyes helping you relax a little, still a bit hesitant though. "I promise you sweetheart, I won't judge you if you're gay," she assures before hesitating herself on her next words, "Are...are you gay? If you don't mind me asking."

You tense momentarily in your seat, not liking the question. You never understood why everything had to have labels, so what if you liked girls? Why should people be able to judge or discriminate against you because you liked a certain type of person, you were still you.

"I'm..." you trail off, rubbing your palms against your jeans to rid the nervous sweat that's built on your hands, "I'm just me." You don't look back up at Wanda, missing the way her features soften or the way she gently looks at you at your words. Her hand moves to yours, interlocking your fingers together to stop you fiddling with them.

"Thank you," she whispers. Wanda knew that, although you didn't say much, it clearly meant something deeper to you and the fact you felt comfortable enough to talk to her about it made her feel warm inside. "I'll have a little chat with Vision about what he said, ok? If he's ever rude to you again, just tell me sweetheart," you kept your gaze on your hands after nodding briefly, missing the venom in her words at her husband's name due the feeling of her fingers intertwined with yours, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand allowing you to completely calm down.

"I'm going to ask Nat if she wants to come," you murmur after a few minutes of comfortable silence, Wanda smiling at you as you walk away to call your best friend.

Around half an hour later, you're at the park with the twins, both of them wrapped up in warm coats as it was starting to get rather chilly outside. Your eyes flickered between the boys in front of you and your surroundings looking for either red hair, a grumpy blonde or a crazed fluffball.

"Fluffy!" The boys cheered when the dog came into sight, a chuckle leaving your lips at the look Yelena gave her sister when the boys called her dog a different name. Walking up to them as the twins busied themselves with Fanny, you were unable to hide the smile on your face when you heard Yelena grumbling in Russian at her sister.

"My dog is named Fluffy now?" she says, directed to you while her finger points at you.

"That wasn't me Belova, blame your sister," Natasha glares at you, Yelena's hand going to hit the back of her head, but the redhead swiftly moves behind your body, using you as a shield knowing Yelena secretly had a soft spot for you. You see the boys running over to you, Fanny close behind as the air fogs at their hot breath.

"Mini Maximoffs," you say, making the twins giggle, "This is Yelena, Natasha's sister." The twins greet Natasha again, already taking a liking to her after the last park visit before turning to Yelena with big grins.

"Hi Yelena," Billy says quietly, a little intimidated by the blonde and her stoic face. Tommy on the other hand doesn't seem bothered, wrapping an arm around Fanny and looking at Yelena with a toothy grin.

"Fluffy is so cute!" he exclaims, making Yelena's hard exposure crumble, you and Natasha sharing a look as you see the younger woman start to interact with the twins, showing them the cool tricks she can get Fanny to do.

"Fan-" the glare you and Natasha sent her way cut her off, the blonde mumbling cyka (bitch) under her breath before turning back to the boys, "Fluffy," she looks at you two with an annoyed look, contrasting the amused glint in yours, "Speak." The dog barks on command, the boys giving her the treat Yelena handed them before getting the fluffball to spin in a circle for another.

The five of you play with Fanny while you try to tire out the boys by getting them to try and race the dog while she fetches the tennis ball you kept throwing for them. About half an hour passes and you decide you want to get something to drink from the cafe nearby, so you ask around what everyone else wants. The boys politely ask for hot chocolates (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream because that's the only acceptable way to drink it according to them), and the two coffees for the other women.

"I'm trusting you to take care of them," you point your fingers at the sisters, Yelena giving you a sly smirk while Natasha gives you a reassuring smile.

"We've got this," her tone comforting while her glaze flickers to the blonde, "Well, I at least, have got this." You pray to the heavens that everything goes smoothly while you leave them on their own, starting your brisk walk to the cafe.

Walking down the streets of Westview, you pass by a few restaurants and shops, glancing inside at all the people living their lives. A familiar set of blonde hair in one of the restaurants makes you look back inside, your face paling at the sight.

Vision had his arm dangerously low around another woman's waist, his mouth muttering something in her ear as she moved her hand to settle on the arm wrapped around her. A sultry smile took over her lips at what he said, her peering up at him and biting her lip before they were interrupted by another couple trying to walk past them. You see Vision starting to look around and swiftly make your way past the restaurant, rushing into the cafe to get the drinks.

"Are you alright?" the barista asks, seeing your pale face as you wait nervously for the drinks to be made, your thoughts running a million miles an hour.

"Huh?" you say, blinking up at him lost. "Oh yeah I'm fine," you read his name tag while he hands you the drinks in a bag, "Thank you, Peter." You leave the cafe still in a daze, annoyed and confused at how he could do such a thing, especially when he had Wanda as his wife.

Once you return to the park, Natasha and Yelena instantly know something is up, the twins too oblivious to realise as they sit on the bench, talking amongst themselves. Yelena takes the bag from you, planning on keeping the twins distracted while Natasha speaks to you.

"What's happened?" her voice laced with worry as your nervous state. She guides you to a nearby bench, you letting out a sigh and putting your head in your hands.

"I just saw Vision," you mutter, moving to lean back against the metal bench, Natasha's brows furrowing as you told her earlier he was at a meeting and that's why Wanda was home and letting you take the boys out. "In a restaurant, with another woman."

"Oh fuck," she sighs out, your handles moving to fiddle with one another as you don't know what to do. "Were they just talking? Like friends would?" she asks, seemingly knowing the answer already. You shake your head, her looking over to the twins who were gushing over the amount of whipped cream they had on their drinks. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," you whisper. You could tell Wanda, but you didn't want to be the one to break her heart, tell her that her husband, the father of her children, is most likely cheating on her. No matter how much you liked the woman, you didn't want to hurt her. Part of you though knew you had to tell her, make sure she knew the prick her husband was and how she deserves more than him, how she deserves the world. "I have to tell her, but I don't know how," you follow Natasha's gaze, looking at the boys and how happy they were, "I don't want to ruin their family."

"Hey, you didn't ruin anything, he did," she tells you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, "It's not your fault in the slightest so don't think that, ok?"

"Ok," you murmur, nodding and letting out a deep breath before standing to approach Yelena and the boys. You all finish your hot drinks quickly, the cold weather making them taste even better as they warm you up before you say goodbye to the sisters. Natasha hugs you, whispering comforting words to you before parting ways, a reassuring smile on her lips.

On the short walk to the Maximoff residence, you notice how tired the boys are, clearly playing with Fanny exhausting them, making you smile as they drag their feet along the sidewalk. They just about make it to their house, Wanda opening the door with a bright smile at the sight of two very tired boys. She does notice your apprehensive look though and invites you in for a drink.

Groans escape the twins as they flop on the sofa, burying their faces in the pillows and resting after their trip out. Wanda walks with you to the kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water while she makes herself a cup of tea.

"Is everything alright dear?" she softly asks, turning to lean on the countertop while the kettle boils.

"Uh I don't really know how to say this," you mutter, still anxious about how the whole ordeal could go down. "Where is Vision?" you ask, making Wanda's face switch to confusion at your question.

"He said he had a business event to attend to," she says, sceptical of where this conversation was going. "Why?"

"I saw him in a restaurant earlier," you look away from her, not being able to handle the emotions swirling in her eyes, "He was with another woman there." Her jaw clenches as an indecipherable look washes over her face, shoulder slumping.

"What were they doing?" Her tone contains hints of anger and annoyance.

"He had his arm around her hip and was talking in her ear," your voice is quiet as you speak, feeling small under her intense gaze, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to cause any problems, I just wanted you to know-"

"It's ok dear," she cuts you off, her words a little harsh but her face softening at the guilty and apologetic look on your face. "Thank you for telling me," she turns her back to you, making her drink while you finish your water off, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. "It's getting late now dear, why don't you head off home, I wouldn't want your parents worrying," her tone trying to stay light and caring but not succeeding as you can see the anger building behind her eyes. You just nod your head at her, taking your empty glass to the sink before starting to make your way out. You pause at the door frame of the kitchen, opening your mouth and closing it as you look at the saddened and irritated expression on her face.

"I'm sorry Wanda, I really am," you whisper before leaving, heart clenching at what you just had to do.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [19]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 12,542

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, mention of abuse, mention of manipulation, mentions of death, mentions of canon characters deaths, mentions of drug use

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: We're almost done with season 3 and I am so excited!! You're all gonna hate me later lmao (again happy ending, promise) I have so many plans lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

You, Gar, and Rachel are sitting around the Lazurus Pit. Rachel has just finished giving Gar a pep talk about how she's able to do what she does out of love. Gar has been feeling a little bit like a letdown, unable to transform into different animals on command like he can as a tiger. The only times it's happened is when he's terrified, as if there's a block of fear in his head keeping him from transforming into anything else. You stay silent. You don't think Rachel is wrong. Gar could definitely change into other animals beyond being scared and maybe the answer is the love he has for all of the Titans and the love everyone has for him because everyone believes him. But, you're still stuck in your head wondering if that's always enough.

Right now, love doesn't seem like the thing that heals all wounds and makes everything better. It wasn't enough to keep Jason safe. It wasn't enough to keep him out of Crane's grasp. It wasn't enough to get Bruce to kill the Joker before he had his chance. It wasn't enough to bring Jason home. It wasn't enough for Rachel to bring Donna back. It wasn't enough for Sam to bring Jason back. It wasn't enough to keep the Titans at the tower. There have been so many things, especially lately, where it's just not been enough. Sometimes it's not enough so instead of being pessimistic about it, you stay quiet, looking at the pit and hoping it spits Dick out.

"You're quiet." Gar states, moving his attention to you.

"Oh, yeah." You shake your head, glancing back at him. "Just...waiting." You look back at Rachel. There's no guarantee this is going to work. You need another plan if it doesn't. You need another plan if it takes too long. "Do you think you could find the other Titans? Like...at some point tonight?"

"Yeah." Rachel nods her head. "I can feel their energy, too." Rachel's voice is soft.

"Well, that's good at least. Kory will know what to do." You let out a sigh, moving your stare back to the Pit.

"You don't think this is gonna work, do you?" Rachel asks.

"I don't know." You shrug. "I'm just trying to think ahead in case it doesn't or in case it takes a while. I mean, for all we know it takes a few days." You state just as the put starts bubbling. "Or...a few hours." You mutter as the three of you get to your feet, looking into the pit just as Dick's fist punches through the surface and he emerges from the thick and glowing liquid.

Dick starts to swim to the edge while you and Gar quickly meet him there to help pull him out. You both grab his arms, pulling at him until he's out of the pit and leaning back on his hands. He coughs up water just as Rachel kneels down beside him, you and Gar getting back to your feet. You and Gar exchange a look of disbelief as hope has the courage to start to fill your chests.

"Dick?" Rachel asks.

Dick manages to look at her, furrowing his brows in confusion before he falls back onto his back and passes out. Rachel looks back to Gar and you, as if one of you will know what just happened.

"What do we do?" Rachel asks.

"Is he breathing?" Gar asks with hesitance.

The three of you see Dick's chest rising and falling. This whole thing has been weird and it almost seemed like he drowned. Is there supposed to be more to do this? Or is he supposed to just...sleep off the effects and then he's just alive again? The three of you are completely confused by the entire situation.

"Yes." Rachel states.

"I guess we wait some more?" You question. "He's breathing so that's better than the alternative." You shrug your shoulders, wishing you would have pressed Jason to get some answers from Crane about him coming back.

But then Dick snaps back out of it, gasping himself awake as he shoots up. You and Gar both jump back slightly at the sudden movement and sound as if Dick is jumpscare in a bad horror movie.

"Rachel?" Dick gasps for breath, looking more confused than ever. "Gar?" Dick rushes, getting onto one knee. "Y/n?" Dick questions looking to you.

The last thing he remembers to be real is you and Jason kneeling above him, looking lost and panicked. Then there was everything in the pit which only leaves him with far more questions than answers, none of which he has time to get answers to right now. The Pit told him everything he needs to know to take down Crane. That's all that can matter right now if you're all going to save Gotham. He can deal with the rest later.

"It's okay now. You're safe." Rachel assures him. "Let us help you."

"Are you...alright?" Gar asks with worry.

"Yeah, dude. You like...died." You state with the scrunch of your nose, earning a light nudge from Gar.

"What...what happened down there?" Gar asks.

Dick breathes heavily, catching his breath and then completely avoids the question. "Crane can be stopped." Dick states, running a hand through his hair. "There's still time." Dick rushes, getting to his feet.

Dick starts to walk towards the exit as Rachel gets to her feet. He cannot possibly be serious. He just died and drowned and now he's just...going to stop Crane. Suddenly he has all the answers and he's going to go off on his own? He can barely even catch his breath.

"Wait. Dick, man, you need to rest." Gar rushes after him, the three of you right on Dick's heels.

Dick turns around, barely facing the three of them. "Anton and First Street. There's an abandoned control room. Find Conner. Make sure he's okay. Unite the Titans." Dick states in a hurry. "Y/n, with me, let's go." Dick rushes before he turns on his heels and starts darting down the hallway.

"Unite the Titans where?" Rachel calls after him.

"Take them to Donna." Dick states, not slowing down or stopping as he makes his way down the tunnel.

The three of you look between each other in confusion, trying to grasp any sort of explanation to no avail. Donna is supposed to be dead, according to Rachel. And he was in a Pit?

Dick calls your name from down the hall, his voice echoing over the bricks.

You shrug at the two of them. "Uh...alright. Good luck with that, I guess? I'll make sure he's not fucking insane." You state quickly, spinning on your heels before you jog down the hall to catch up to Dick.

You catch up to Dick who is walking a steady and quick pace, his head clearly thinking a hundred steps ahead. You eye him as you match his pace, walking right beside him. He just died? And then came back to life? There is no way in hell this man is just...fine with that. Of course, there are a lot of other things you all need to focus on, especially with him somehow knowing Crane can be stopped. There are more pressing matters than Dick's mental state at this exact point in time but that doesn't bring you any type of ease.

No one should die and then just be fine.

Jason sure as shit isn't. So, Dick can't be either.

Sam follows Dick out of the building, keeping up with him.

"We're going to meet Jason." Dick states flatly once the two of you exit the building.

"We're gonna what now?" You question, shaking your head. "And how do you expect we even find him?"

"He'll be here." Dick states, a confidence that should be reassuring consumes his voice.

How is he so sure about everything all of a sudden? The Lazarus Pit brings people back, and heals them, but...it can't possibly predict the future right? But, Dick also just said Donna is alive which means...if that's actually true the pit brings more than life back to someone. It brings some sort of clarity for things they otherwise shouldn't know. But if he's wrong that just means it's made him crazy which also means the pit did have some sort of lasting effect on Jason, too. This can't be good.

"How do you even know that?" You question, trying to figure out what is actually going on. If anything, he needs to slow down.

"He'll always go back to where it happened." Dick states.

What?

Your face scrunches in both annoyance and more confusion. You did this round-and-round question game with Jason, you're not doing it with Dick. He wants you to go and find Jason so damn bad, he can give you some clarity, too.

"What the shit with Donna being alive? How the fuck do you even know that?" You almost demand instead of asking.

"I just do." Dick says simply.

"That's not reassuring whatsoever." You mutter with more annoyance.

Dick glances down to you, seeing you grow frustrated. "The pit..." Dick says.

"Yeah, no I figured that out but you're not exactly giving out details here." You roll your eyes before you grab his arm to bring him to a stop. "Dude, seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Come on, we can't waste—" Dick starts as he continues walking.

"No, fuck that shit!" You yell, keeping up with him again. "You know, you batboys do that shit all the time. You guys say you're fine when you're not. You literally just fucking died, Dick. You can't just be fine after that. And you know if the three of you would just fucking talk about how not fine all of you are, we probably wouldn't be in this mess to begin with, right? Like that's your guys' entire fucking problem. I hate talking about my shit, too but I'm learning the more I admit how not fine I am the easier it is and I tend to feel a little bit better about it. The three of you are just fucking annoying about it and if you really think that's not your problem, you're being willfully ignorant and we both know that's not a very Nightwing thing to be." You finish with a scoff and the shake of your head.

And maybe a large part of your frustration is that neither of them seem to think they matter. They are sacrifices. Jason always thinks the world is simply better off without him and Dick thinks he's expendable. He can be the sacrifice for the greater good. It's why he's reckless and why he goes off on his own. Jason does the exact same thing. It's fine to them if they die. But, they leave these people in the wake of their deaths with paralyzing grief. This time it wasn't permanent for either of them but what happens when it is? It shouldn't be because they were reckless and decided to sacrifice themselves because they matter to people. The people who love them and they should be considered in all of this.

Dick glances down to you as you keep your eyes straight, jaw clenched tight. Dying is traumatic but you're right. They don't talk about it. Bruce never talked about anything so Dick wouldn't talk about anything and Jason never talked about anything. Batman and Robin could never be scared and they weren't allowed to let their emotions get in the way. Emotions cause blurriness and distractions. On the field, those things get you killed. But, he's not Robin. He's not with Batman. He just died as Nightwing.

"It was a lot." Dick manages to state.

"Yeah..." You say quietly.

"You almost died. I think you know." Dick says, still partially avoiding the question.

"Yeah, it was really scary and traumatizing." You state flatly because even though you were close, you did not die. He saved you. And Jason saved you. Close doesn't count here.

"Yeah." Dick keeps his word short. "I had to face some...challenges." Dick confesses, feeling the very core of his bones ache with guilt over the brutal beating of Jason even though it wasn't real in the pit. "It's hard to explain. It was a test or something." You look at him, seeing the look of distance and remorse dissolve over his face and you don't need to ask what kind of tests. "I understand Jason a little more now, him as Red Hood." Dick lets out a breath. "But I can't focus on what happened if we're going to stop Crane. "

You nod softly. "Right, yeah, got it." You let out a breath. "Your ability to compartmentalize is really something else but you should really deal with it after instead pushing it off." You say quietly, earning a glance from Dick. "Something else will always come up, you're Nightwing. You're a Titan. I'm just saying, look where we stand today like maybe it would have been different if things weren't always compartmentalized. Maybe you need to feel it sometimes."

The words almost catch you off guard. You've been running from your own pain for so long that you think that's your biggest issue. You run and it hurts you and the people that care about you. It's easier to not feel any of it but it makes being a person harder. There is blood on your hands and a part of you wonders if you had just let yourself grieve, maybe there wouldn't be. Maybe most of what happened between you and Jason after wouldn't have happened because you would have grieved. You would have felt all of it. Maybe had you stuck around after your mom died, let yourself just feel it, you wouldn't have ended up with Jerry. Maybe allowing the pain to bleed a little is how people heal from it. Let it scab over and let it mend itself over time with care and attention.

"Are you okay?" Dick asks. "You were there. You found Jason, you were there with Tim. This is a lot for you, too."

"Yeah..." You let out a sigh. "Like...I-I-I don't know. You're like this weird...weird brother I-I never really wanted or asked for and then you died. And that's just...I don't know. I fuck with you but I respect you and ya know?" You look up with honest eyes. "Kind of would suck a lot if you died permanently. You're like good at this and you're important to the Titans." You roll your shoulder, pulling in a heavy breath. "And to me." You mutter so quietly Dick nearly misses it.

"Thank you." Dick says. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." There's the smallest touch of sarcasm in his voice.

You manage to crack a smile. "Eh, don't get used to it, Dickolas. It's cause you died. Gotta be nice to you for at least an hour." Dick shakes his head but you see the subtle hint of a smile on his face. "Why are we going to find Jason anyway?"

"He'll know how to take out Crane and we need him on the inside. He wouldn't tell Crane he's against him, would he?" Dick asks.

"Doubt it." You scoff. "Jason is smart, methodical. He still wants Crane dead for what he did to me so he's not gonna let Crane think they're on different sides just so he can have the upper hand."

"Good. We find Jason and bring him with us. I have a plan." Dick states with urgency but offers no further explanation.

"Yeah...okay. So, uh, where do I come in? The mediator, still?" You almost laugh at the idea. 

"No. You said Jason wanted to talk, let's talk. You're here because I need you with Jason."

While the idea of them talking is definitely enticing, you aren't completely convinced. Jason didn't pull the trigger this time but it is his fault Dick died. And given how Jason has been about Bruce who wasn't even in Gotham when Jason was killed, you can't help but feel a bit uneasy with Dick wanting to find Jason so soon after surviving the Pit. 

"And how do we know you're not gonna kill Jason? I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't want you to kill him and I'd fight like hell to make sure you don't. But...he did kind of just get you killed so you can see why I'm a little confused about you're kind of change of heart, I guess." You explain, eyeing him from the corner of your eye. 

"You'll just have to trust me. I never wanted him dead. He was just giving us no choice." There's something almost sad that trickles into his voice while his expression gives nothing away. 

"There's always a choice, Dick." You say quietly. "You can't say there isn't a choice when you yelled at me for killing and you're mad at Jason for killing. And you preached about how we can't be judge, jury, and executioner. There is a choice."

"Jason was going to kill all of us." Dick defends his stance, not acknowledging the hypocrisy of it all.

"So? And the ones we want dead will keep trying to kill other people. Or worse. Just because we, specifically, aren't their targets doesn't mean they get a pass. The innocent people that are their targets deserve the same amount of care and protection that we offer each other." You pull in a breath, feeling Dick move his stare to you. "We clearly didn't have to kill him, is my point."

This is the most Dick has gotten out about your motive. It's more than it being about the kids left behind. It's the bigger picture. That there is a choice and sometimes it's a bad choice and a hard choice but one that means, in your head, protecting the greater good in the same way Dick wants to protect the Titans. It doesn't mean he agrees with you, but he does see your point of view for once.

"Do you disagree with going after Jason?"

"No." You answer plainly. "I'm just incredibly loyal to him. If it were anyone else, they'd be dead. And I understand that's a bit hypocritical given what I just said. That's why circumstances and background are important when making the decision to kill someone." You shake your head. "I know him. I know him being a cold-blooded killer isn't him. Background matters."

"You're right it does. I do not want him dead." Dick offers a sincere nod towards you before it falls silent between you.

You finally reach the spot from last night where Dick was killed. Dick finds the Red Hood helmet, picks it up and takes it along with him. There's a puddle of blood still on the pavement that makes your stomach twist. It's as if blood stains everything it touches.

You're still unconvinced Jason will be here like Dick says. He's not psychic all of a sudden. But, you stay with him anyway, hoping you run into Jason and of course, you do. Somehow, Dick is right about this. Jason is yelling that Red Hood is back as he fires a gun into the air.

"Jason...it's okay." Dick calls, getting Jason's attention as he spins around quickly. His face is still covered in blood and cuts from the fight the night before. His eyes nearly bug out of his head, this can't be right. "It's me."

He knows the three of you took Dick to the Pit but there is a part of him that still can't believe it worked. Watching the life literally leave someone's body only for them to be alive the following day, that's more than unsettling. It feels wrong. It's the same wrong feeling Jason gets any time he gets a moment of silence and can hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

But he is relieved to see Dick walking and alive. The feeling of it being wrong, is just the echo in his own bones. Dick should be the one alive. If the Pit were to work on anyone and offer someone a second chance, it should be Dick.

"It worked?" Jason questions, almost losing the breath from his lungs with the words. His eyes land on you as if you're the only one who can confirm if this is real or not.

You nod once. "Yeah, it did."

"You knew?" Dick asks.

Jason nods. "Rachel said that's where Gar was taking you." Jason explains as his eyes start to grow glassy, the guilt thundering through his bones once more.

"We don't have much time. I need your help." Dick cuts the conversation short, knowing they can't discuss this now but he's getting the idea maybe Jason did just want to talk. He looks hurt and relieved to see him and you.

You, on the other hand, are still uneasy. Dick isn't giving you any indication that this is going to go sideways but you feel yourself grip a knife from your belt anyway. This can't go sideways again. You all working on different teams has not helped fight Crane but working together should. Crane, at the very least, won't see it coming. You just don't want to see anyone else close to you die again.

"You want me to help you?" Jason asks, stretching his arms out at his sides in disbelief. He can't help. Not after what he's become. "I'm a fucking murderer."

"You know how Crane is operating. You know how he thinks." Dick starts. "He needs to be stopped or a lot more people are gonna die." Dick pauses for just a second. "You want redemption?" Dick asks as Jason hangs his head. "Do you?" Dick asks more firmly this time. "This is the first step."

Of course he wants redemption for the harm he's caused but his methods now do not align with Dick's. He's almost gotten them killed and he did kill Hank. He betrayed them. How is he supposed to go back now and help? After everything? After what he's become? It sounds hopeless and he almost lets his pity get the best of him until his eyes meet yours.

"We need your help, Jay." You plead with him.

Jason shakes his head. "You can't stop him." Jason answers with defeat rather than snark. He genuinely believes Gotham is lost to Crane. "He's got everything. The police, the Batcave. He's gonna take the whole fucking city down!"

"How?" Dick asks more in a way that sounds like a demand.

"You think I know?" Jason scoffs. "He doesn't tell me shit."

"Jay? You have to know something. You've been with him this entire time and you wanted to talk to Dick last night. You know something." You urge, practically begging him to just say something.

He told you once that he remembers everything. Crane slipped somewhere and all Jason has to do is remember. Think of whatever the hell Crane said that might be a clue.

Jason hangs his head as tears start to come to his eyes. "It was all crazy shit." Jason pauses for a second. "Like waves of anger and fear. The bright and darkened lands of the Earth. Something about an attack you and Bruce stopped a long time ago." Jason states, looking at Dick with confusion knowing Bruce never told him.

"Years ago, Crane sent a poem to Jim Gordon with clues about an attack on Gotham. A chain of explosives to release his fear toxin. We stopped him before he had the chance to set it off. Bruce took Crane's weapons and put them in the Gotham Armory to study them."

"And Crane's in the Batcave." Jason finishes. "So, he knows where those weapons are."

"And so do we now." Dick states as he extends Jason's helmet out to him. "We need to go."

Jason puts the pistol back in the holster on his leg. "So, I'm a Titan again?" Jason asks.

"No, you'll never be a Titan again." Dick states before he closes the distance between them, offering his helmet. "But, you can help us save Gotham."

Jason eyes the helmet as the feeling of being lost hits him like a ton of bricks. He never really fit in being a Titan anyway but...something about the confirmation that even if he were to change back to who he was before, it's over, really hits him. It's something he can't come back from. That part of his life, Robin, is gone. It's lost to the darkness. The Joker took it from him. Crane took it from him. The one thing he thought made him who he is, is shattered with so many of his hopes. It's lost and gone and Jason can't help but feel alone and lost now.

But, feeling that way got him here in the first place so he takes the helmet from Dick.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me?" Jason asks.

"Because now I know what it's like to die." Dick answers harshly.

Jason's eyes glance to you and then back to the helmet in his hands. It's more guilt. It's always guilt that comes back like the bladed boomerang. Jason knows firsthand what it's like to die, too and that didn't stop him. That was never a reason for him to stop. It doesn't matter that he was drugged and manipulated because, to Jason, Dick's reason should have been enough. It doesn't matter that the drug removed his guilt and his fear and the feeling of being haunted and stalked by something dark and twisted. He should have known better and he put death on Hank anyway. He lead Dick to getting killed.

He should have known better than to go after the people who actually cared about him. He knows what it's like to die and Dick does, too. To Jason, that should give Dick enough reason to kill him and yet...he doesn't and he seems sincere.

"Fine." Jason agrees reluctantly. "How can I help?" Jason asks letting out a steady breath as he nods his head.

"Come on. I've got a car around the block. We're going to break into the vault." Dick says casually as he starts walking past Jason.

Jason looks at you before you roll your eyes, trailing after Dick, Jason falling in line with you. The two of you follow Dick to the car he, for some reason, just has. You and Jason can only assume it's from last night. He had to get to Jason some way. Jason takes the passenger seat while you sit in the back, sitting right in the middle. Dick starts the drive while Jason is stuck in the car with his brother. This is not the ideal situation.

"Do you want to explain any of this?" Dick asks after a few minutes of silence. "How we got here?"

"Not really." Jason quips back with frustration looking out the window. He's not even entirely sure where to start. It all feels like this started so long ago and maybe in a way it did. Maybe it started that day he stole the hubcaps. Maybe he should have listened to Dick and you about Bruce. "After fucking everything, I just can't believe Bruce couldn't fucking kill the Joker." Jason lets out a scoff. "He fucking beat me to death with a fucking crowbar and Bruce just...fucks off somewhere." Jason scoffs again, barely able to hide the crack in his voice.

The car falls dead silent as Dick glances in the rearview mirror at you before you lean forward in between the boys. You and Dick are on the verge of exploding. This really cannot be Jason's entire motive. How the hell doesn't he know? You look at Jason who's giving you a confused and annoyed expression. You look back to Dick who is clearly trying to figure out how he's supposed to burst this bubble without it leading to another fistfight.

"I got it." You state before looking to Jason. "Who exactly do you think killed the Joker?" You blink at him with your brows raised, really hoping Jason's motive is not entirely linked to this little bit of information.

Jason eyes you, looking to the side and then back at you. The look you're giving him with Dick glancing at him has him feeling like Crane may have lied to him about that, too. But, Bruce wouldn't throw his morals away, right? Not for someone like Jason. Not for Jason. Bruce didn't kill the Joker.

"Uh...Crane said it was one of the prisoners who dressed like the Bat?" Jason lets out a scoff, playing it off in hopes this conversation is not going where he thinks it's going.

You look back at Dick who looks like he might have an aneurysm. Jason has been deadset on his new form of justice which you agree with but...if he thinks Bruce didn't kill the Joker for him, maybe that's his motive. You always felt his hatred towards Dick was just some weird rivalry amplified by Crane but if Jason thought no one avenged him...maybe that's it. You almost cringe at the idea of having to burst his bubble.

"You hear it, right?" You ask Jason as you look back at him. "Like..." You pause, scrunching your nose. "Crane, inmate dressing as the Bat."

There is no fucking way Bruce actually killed someone, the Joker, for Jason.

"Did....did Bruce actually do it?" Jason huffs as if he expects you and Dick to be messing with him as some sort of cruel payback or even to get him back on the "good" side.

"Walked into my room with a bloody crowbar." Dick states.

He cannot believe of all lies for Jason to believe from Crane, he had to believe that one. Crane is a manipulative asshole who's had Jason drugged and under his thumb ever since coming back, but how does Jason actually believe this? Even though Bruce has always been completely against murder in any instance, Jason should have known it was a lie. All of Gotham knows it was actually Batman.

"He actually did it?" Jason asks but this time, there's a sense of shock and remorse in his voice.

Every single part of him should feel relieved that Bruce would do this for him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the same guy who has preached about not being judge, jury, and executioner, killed someone for him. Bruce killed The Joker for beating Jason to death and Jason should feel relieved and thankful but instead, he just feels guilty. Maybe wanting Bruce to avenge his death was never the thing he really wanted.

"Yeah, Jay." You nod your head, your voice quiet and sad. "Fuck Bruce, but I told you he loved you."

"Fuck." Jason lets out a groan, resting his head back on the headrest. "I really fucking thought he wouldn't do it."

Jason always thought Bruce would never break that moral code. He said it would be too easy to keep going. It's always just that one and then there would be another who's just as bad. The lines would start to blur and he wouldn't be able to stop. But, Jason did think if he ever were going to break it, it would have been for Dick, not Jason. He had no idea he actually meant that much to Bruce and now Bruce up and leaving Gotham without a trace makes sense. It wasn't that Crane drove him away or some sort of hideaway until things cooled down after losing his son. It was the grief of it all. The blame Bruce has to feel, knowing he led Jason into the road of Robin.

"Was that your only motivation for this?" Dick questions, almost not wanting to know the answer.

"Of course not." Jason sneers. "But...it didn't help." Jason grits his teeth. "I don't fucking know." Jason crosses his arms, not more aggravated over the whole thing than ever.

Crane took everything from him. And Jason trusted him.

"It's okay if you're mad at him for not saving you and thinking he didn't avenge your death." You state softly. "But now you know."

"I'm not though." Jason states as he nearly cuts you off, catching you both off guard. "I'm not fucking mad at him for not saving me." Jason's voice trails off. "I...fuck it. Forget it, alright? Crane lied to me about that, too and here we are." Jason lets out a scoff as he shakes his head before turning to look out his window.

Dick always felt like Jason was the type to hold a grudge, get unreasonable mad about things beyond his control. But, in the time since the tower, he got to know him better, finding out that wasn't entirely true. Jason's statement just now proves that. It was never about Bruce not saving him or even avenging him. It was him being alone. Thrown to the side the second things started to get messy. It was always about him feeling abandoned and less than, not good enough.

And you can see that, too.

You look to Dick and for once, Dick looks worried. "Don't worry," You start, earning a look from Jason. "I'll kill Crane for you." You offer him a soft smile that almost makes Jason laugh.

"Really?" Dick questions with annoyance.

"Don't pretend like you don't want him dead." You chortle.

"Yeah, right." Jason scoffs. "He's too good for it." Jason nearly chortles with you just to mock Dick.

"Hey!" Dick challenges. "Crane is bad, he just needs to remain locked away."

"No, you want him dead." You nod your head. "He killed your brother, drove your adoptive dad away, almost killed me, killed Hank, has been actively trying to get you killed for two weeks, and turned all of Gotham against the Titans. You want him dead. I can tell."

"You got a fucking sixth sense for right now?" Jason quips, this time actually letting a laugh slip from the bottom of his lungs.

"No." You chortle. "Dick isn't as stern when he talks about not killing Crane. He always has this look about killing being wrong and he always says the same thing, he doesn't do either with Crane."

"He's just a bad person." Dick defends himself, not even wanting to humor your theory behind this.

"No shit, man." Jason huffs. "I fucking died and he probably set the whole thing up."

"So did I." Dick states back.

"Gar died, you both died, Donna died and all of you came back. We all just taking turns? Where should I stand in line?" You quip with the intention of not letting them even start an argument.

"Not funny." Jason and Dick say at the same time, making themselves grimace.

You burst into a fit of laughter. "I told you, Jay. You two--"

"Shut the fuck up." Jason hits his head on the back of the headrest, closing his eyes. The last thing he wants to hear is that him and Dick even have one similarity but his voice isn't harsh and there might even the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips.

You lean back in your seat with the shake of your head and a gentle smile. This is going to eat at him for a while but you hope Bruce will come back. Maybe after you take out Crane, Dick will be able to find him and him and Jason can go get him. Maybe Jason getting to see Bruce after all of this will ease some of his guilt. You've had talks about it. You know him being fooled into thinking Bruce didn't avenge him isn't his entire motive. Jason always felt like Bruce could do more and this is doing more. It doesn't make it easy for him or make him feel better, but you know there's always more to Jason's motives than something surface-level.

Once you get to the armory, the three of you enter with ease. There are no guards this time. There's no one even here, just the three of you which allows you to walk right up to the vault. The entire city is in a bit of chaos, using up any force that might have been here. It's not ideal for everyone else, but it is definitely beneficial to you, Jason, and Dick right about now.

You reach the vault door where Jason takes the lead, lining the door with a sort of liquid that then ignites and breaks the seals of the door, fire almost engulfing the door until it hits the floor. Jason is the first one to step inside, his gun pointed forward with a flashlight on top. You follow right behind him with your own flashlight and then Dick.

"Let's go." Dick says once he gets in front of you and Jason, leading the way to case you need.

Dick opens the case only for nothing to be inside besides a book called Collected Poems by Will Auden.

"I don't get it. There's supposed to be like two hundred ampules." Jason states with frustration. "What the fuck is that?"

Dick reaches forward and grabs the book. "Bright and darkened lands of the Earth." Dick states, looking at the book.

You and Jason look between each other and then back to Dick. Of all things for Dick to understand, a random book of poems is the thing he understands. Of course, he does.

"What are you talking about?" Jason asks.

"Crane's poem." Dick states as he opens the book, flipping to somewhere in the middle. "His war on Gotham."

Jason snatches the book back, you looking over his arm to see the page Dick opened.

"Fuck." Jason groans.

Crane's already beat you here. It has to be some sort of gloat thing he's doing, like he's already two steps ahead of you. He's been two steps ahead this whole time and his war on Gotham is now in full swing. What are you all supposed to do if you can't locate the bombs and disable them? What if Crane is already out there ready to blow up the city?

"What are we supposed to do now?" You ask, looking up to Dick.

Dick pauses for a second, looking to the empty case and then back to you and Jason. "Let's go. I have an idea." Dick says quickly before he turns and heads towards the exit.

The three of you head back to the car, taking back your seats as Dick immediately starts driving. You're watching him and you're fascinated by how quickly Dick can change directions. Not a single part of you is surprised but you are fascinated by it. He was trained by Batman. To be out there, as a vigilante, you have to know how to pivot immediately. Dick is really good at it. So, is Jason. It's something the two of them have in common. The ability to adapt to anything and everything, even when everything is covered in bloody chaos.

"One poem, multiple bombs." Dick starts. "Clues to where the bombs are are placed in the poems."

"What's the plan?" Jason asks, his stare on Dick hoping Dick does actually have some sort of backup plan.

"Find some supers and stop the bombs from going off." Dick says it almost casually as if it's something so simple and easy.

"Titans?" Jason scoffs. "What are they gonna do when they see me?"

Jason knows there is no way the Titans are going to welcome him back with open arms and trust him just because Dick and you say he's safe now. Gar might but Kory, Conner, and Rachel won't. He's been actively targeting them and he killed Hank. They're not just going to forget that and move on like nothing happened. They'll likely try and kill him the second they see him at this point. He got Dick killed.

"They're not." Dick states, revving the engine before pulling over at a curb.

"What's going on?" Jason asks once the car is stopped.

"Get out." Dick states.

"Out?" Jason asks, hurt covering his voice.

"I can't bring you back to the Titans. It'll cause a war." Dick explains. "But I do need you."

"So, I'm your dirty little secret?" Jason quips.

"You want to help us, this is the way it's gonna be. I can only fight one war at a time."

You remain silent, not daring to get in the middle of the two of them. It's the smart decision because there's no way everyone will trust him. Everyone will start fighting and arguing and nothing will get done. Crane will win just because there's a fight between the Titans, which is probably what he wants anyway. It might hurt Jason, but it is the only way this can even work.

"When do you need me?" Jason agrees with a bit of reluctance in his voice.

"If you don't hear from me before, meet me back here in three hours. Got it?" Dick asks.

"Yeah." Jason says quietly.

"You, too." Dick looks back at you.

"Why do I have to get out?" You let out a scoff as Jason quickly looks back at you, wondering what you did this time to piss off the rest of the Titans.

"Safety, precautions, you two work well together." Dick states. "Three hours."

"Got it." You nod your head once before you exit the vehicle with Jason.

Once your doors are shut, Dick drives off. You look over to him and Jason dodges your stare, looking to the side. It's the shame that's eating at him. Falling for all of Crane's lies, getting Dick killed, having to be kept a secret. He was once a Titan and now they can't know he's even helping. Instead, Dick has you here because you work well together, sure, but also to make sure Jason doesn't back out of it. He's not even mad because he'd do the same thing but it hurts and he feels so painfully guilty for everything. He's destroyed everything.

"Come on." Jason jerks his head to the right. "Safe house is close." Jason starts walking, helmet in hand while Sam follows him.

The silence between you builds like a sturdy brick wall. It's in the silence that you have time to process everything. It's always the silence that acts as a marinade for all things fueled with anger and misery. Dick might be alive and Jason might be alive but Jason is the reason Dick died in the first place. He could have stopped. For two seconds, Jason could have called a truce and he didn't and Dick died for it. There never would have been a crowd. The kid with the gun wouldn't have been there and Dick wouldn't have gotten shot. Jason didn't pull the trigger, but he didn't have to. Dick stood there and told Jason the reason Dick won't kill him is because he knows what it's like to die. Well, so does Jason so why the fuck didn't Jason take that into consideration?

You know it was the drug but it bites and gnaws at you anyway because watching everyone you care about die is hacking away at you.

"You alright?" Jason finally asks. You being completely silent never sits quite well with him. There is nothing that sounds more deadly than your silence in moments like these.

"I don't know, Jay. I just watched Dick die and come back to life. What the fuck do you think?" You snap without processing your thought.

"The fuck you mad at me for now?" Jason snaps back. "I didn't pull the fucking trigger. I went there to talk." Jason barks, really not wanting to be reprimanded at the moment. He knows.

"You know what? You might as well have, Jason." You snap, your steps becoming harder against the pavement. "You could have stopped at any point and told him you just wanted to talk and explain it but you didn't. Not one part of you decided to do that. And for the life of me, I can't figure out why. So, Dick was killed because of that. You didn't do it. But that kid thinks he did the right thing to protect you. Dick wasn't even the enemy. So, that's shit." You let your own anger get the best of you, not even to tear him a part for it but just because you need to yell about it.

"It's not my fucking fault." Jason groans. "I didn't ask anyone to do that." Jason defends himself, knowing he's wrong.

"You don't have to!" You finally yell. "People will follow you like a damn cult because you command attention when you walk into a room. You are charismatic and enthralling. They have always been some of your best qualities but in this instance, it wasn't good. They believe in you, Jay." You look back over to him as Jason hangs his head, watching his feet hit the wet pavement. "But, Crane turned the city against the Titans, to follow you." You look forward as you shake your head. "I know I told you to work with him, but it didn't have to get to you and Dick fighting and him dying. It never had to end that way. You could turn them back to the right side." Your voice goes quiet with your last sentence earning you a glance from Jason.

"I didn't think he'd listen, alright? He was the one that set up the flash bang and came in ready for a fight. I didn't think it was any use and I didn't know those fucking people would be there. I..." Jason swallows his own words, not wanting to get into it.

You being willing to die for him is one thing. He hates it. He'd never let you if he could help it, especially having experienced what it's like to die. He would never. But, you love him. You have seen him at his good and bad. You've seen everything in between. Jason has fully exposed all of himself to you in every way anyone possibly could. And you would die for him. You would kill for him. No questions asked because you know Jason Todd better than he knows himself half the time. But these random people? They don't know him. Why the fuck would they kill someone for him? Why would they do that?

"I'm sorry, alright?" Jason's voice comes back down. "I know. I could have fucking done something and I didn't." Jason's saw clenches. "I'm fucking trying." His words are firm but there's a hopelessness in them.

"I know." You say quietly.

"I have a lot to make up for and I don't know if I'm gonna be able to do but I promise, I'm trying. I just...fucked it up." Jason's breath leaves his lips, the fog coming out in a haunting blow.

"I know...I just..." You shake your head. "I'm just really worried about all of you, all the time. You, Gar, Dick. You guys are the closest people to me besides Molly and I just...you're very important to me and this could be something so good and it was." You suck in a breath, the cold air starting to dry out your throat. "And I think we all deserve it. The Titans."

"Yeah..." Jason's shoulders slouch forward. "You do." Jason says quietly, keeping his stare ahead him even as you look over to him.

You've always deserved better than anything Gotham has given you. All this city has done is take everything you care about. And you only even started killing because of him. Even when Jason knows there's more to it, that was your breaking point. You're not shunned from being a Titan and maybe that'd be better for you.

"If you want to be a Titan after all of this, you should." Jason states in his way where he tries to sound really casual to hide his real feelings.

You snap your attention back to him. "Why would I do that?" You nearly scoffs at the very idea, especially coming from him.

"You're good at it and you like it. They like you and you fit in." Jason answers with ease, as if it were something he'd thought about more than a few times. "Why trap yourself here if you don't have to?"

It's as if the air is being pulled from your lungs by rusty hooks. How could he say that? He's here. Home is here. Molly is here. It's not a trap being in Gotham. Coming back, coming home, was a choice you made all on your own and not a single ounce of you even regrets it. You can't regret it. You got to reunite with Molly and while it has been agonizing lately, you had some of your best and favorite moments with Jason here. You got to make a different life again. It felt like home again. Here. Not in San Francisco. Why would he tell you to be a Titan?

"You want me to be a Titan?" You ask, doing your best to hide the hurt in your voice.

"Not up to me." Jason shrugs his shoulders casually, still keeping his stare away from you.

"That's not what I asked." You bite back, keeping your stare on him.

Jason looks back over to you as you reach the building. Jason opens the door for you, leading you in first before he shuts and locks the door behind you. You stand directly in front of him so he can't move once the door is shut. He doesn't get to avoid this conversation when he's the one that brought it up. If he wants you to leave, then he can tell you and then deal with the fact you will not.

"Answer me." You demand.

Jason looks to the right before looking back at you. He always thought you would anyway. After everything, it only makes sense to him for you to leave. You said San Francisco caused you so much pain that you didn't want to be there anymore. But, Gotham has caused you so much pain, you're not even the same person you were a month ago. He doesn't want you to leave but he wants you to be happy and he worries that just won't be here. Not with the track record.

"I always thought you would." Jason shrugs as his voice almost trails off.

"Because?" You search as your brows furrow. "What? I'd get bored of you? Tired of you?" Your eyes scan his face, knowing all of his insecurities. He can't hide from you like he can with everyone else.

Jason looks to the ground and back to you with the shrug of his shoulders. "No." Jason answers. "You didn't come back for me. Thought you'd figure it out and just...go back."

You narrow your eyes. "That's not the full reason." You say softly. "Tell me."

Jason shifts his weight, favoring his bad leg as it starts to ache. He shakes his head with defeat. "Just want you to be happy." Jason says honestly. "This place is fucking shit and you know it. And you hate Bruce but you don't wanna give this up. Bruce doesn't like other vigilantes in the city and..." Jason's heart breaks as he watches your expression fall. "Yeah, I thought you'd leave." Jason nods his head.

"Jay, I told--"

"Because I died." Jason cuts you off with a scoff. "That day on the roof, I fucking destroyed you. I died and it completely destroyed you. When you found out about the drug and Crane, then everything else, I thought you'd fucking leave."

"Yeah," You nod quickly as your eyes turn glassy. "It did destroy me. The whole damn thing hurt but that doesn't mean I want to leave. It doesn't mean I want to be a Titan." Your voice is almost pleading with him to not push without you ever saying it. "This is my home and Molly is here and my mom is buried here and you are here. I don't care if we're not together, you're here. The city is a shitshow so it needs us. It needs us and Batman to help."

"Are you sure?" Jason questions. "I mean, look at this place. I just want you to be happy. I don't fucking know."

You let out a sigh. "You didn't answer the question." You state as Jason opens his mouth. "I asked if you wanted me to. You just said you always thought I'd leave."

Jason shakes his head. "Of course not." Jason lets out a scoff, not even trying to lie or dodge it anymore.

"Good cause I'm not leaving, Jay." You nod your head. "I was always happiest here with you." Your words are barely above a whisper as you look to the floor. "So," You pull in a breath. "You don't have that to worry about. I was gonna stay anyway, no plans to leave again. Tired of running." Your voice turns airy, almost hopeful with your last sentence.

"I don't get you." Jason lets out a laugh that's filled with relief.

"Yeah, you do." You laugh softly. "You're the only one whoever did." You shrug your shoulders, moving past him to the stairs. "You know, you and Dick could probably bond over your whole dying experience now. Probably bring you closer." You offer with sarcasm earning a groan and then a laugh as Jason walks over to you.

"Oh, yeah? We sit down for a family dinner at the manor and tell Bruce all about it? Like a fucking field trip?" Jason quips right back as the two of you make your way upstairs.

"Yeah!" You laugh. "Hear me out, it might freak Bruce out which would be funny."

Jason shakes his head with a soft chuckle. "Us getting along? Yeah, that'll freak Bruce out."

You nudge him lightly. "That'll freak everyone out, actually."

The two of you go upstairs into Jason's makeshift bedroom. You head over to the window to look at the people down below. Everyone is fending for themselves and there are still fires in the streets. There aren't any cars this time. There are always cars.

You lean against the wall and slide down, keeping your head turned towards the window as Jason keeps his distance, watching you closely as he traps himself in his own head again. While you have been on Jason's side, you've also actively been trying to make sure the Titans are at a distance and safe from Jason. You can say you've always been on Jason's side this whole time and maybe that's true, but you also were entirely in the middle. It was never Titans or Jason for you. You were always determined to cut the wire. It was always going to be all of them even if it killed you.

Jason remembers you willing to die for him, how terrifying that was. No one in his entire life was ever willing to do that. Maybe Bruce would have but it's something Jason isn't sure of. He was sure of you. Deathstroke proved that and you confirmed it that night. You would die for him because you love him and Jason always thought that was absurd, even if he'd die for you, too. Dying for you seemed to be the easiest thing he would do if it came to it. But you dying for him? Insane. It had to be insanity but these past two weeks have taught him something else entirely.

You would just die for anyone you loved if that's what it took.

There is not a doubt in Jason's mind that you would put your life in danger for Gar. Of course, you would. He's Gar. Everyone would probably do it. There's Molly and Jason actually feels bad for anyone who would even think of coming after her. You'd die for Tim because of course you would. You care about him and Tim is determined and smart. Krypto is no question. You loved Donna and thought she was the coolest Titan, that's easy. You thought Kory was one of the coolest and most badass people you'd ever met while also being immensely kind. You told Jason once that the Titans need her. So, you'd die for her, too. Jason isn't entirely sure of the big reason you'd save Conner or Dawn or Hank but he knows you would. And then there's Dick. You'd save Dick because he's the leader. Because he saved your life. Because you look up to him. Because he's important to everyone.

It's not that you would die for Jason. It's that you would die for anyone you love if it ever came to it. Jason would be lying if he said he doesn't admire that. Though, he wonders if that's what will be your last straw or if you'll understand one day that you shouldn't have to die for the people you care about. Jason swore he'd die for you. That part was easy but the more time that passes, the more he's realizing he wants to live for you. Living is harder. He hopes you learn that, too. You deserve to want to live for someone and for yourself.

"What's with the symbol?" You snap Jason from his thoughts.

"What?" Jason questions, almost doing a double take.

"The rip off bat symbol. Your idea or Crane's?" You ask bluntly as your eyes dart between his and the red symbol on his chest.

Jason looks down to his chest where the red symbol stares up at him. "Mine." Jason chuckles softly, a devilish grin pushing itself onto his lips. "Why?" He asks and he walks over to the other side of the window from you, sliding down the wall and matching your position.

You let out a soft laugh as you shrug. "Funny that's what you would pick given you thought he didn't kill the Joker for you." You pull in a breath. "Why?"

Jason shrugs. "Fuck Bruce." Jason answers easily as if the answer were so simple anyone could have figured it out, as if he isn't neglecting the entire explanation.

The bat symbol represents Bruce's way of thinking. Inciting fear into the hearts of everyone so they don't do bad things. It works, sometimes. But, it doesn't work enough. The bat symbol represents a certain moral compass where even under the worst of circumstances, killing is still wrong. It represents Bruce. Jason wanted something to almost mock him, a fuck you and watch this to Bruce. Fear doesn't always work. It's not the best way. For Jason, he needed something to spite Bruce, prove his methods will be better because there should never be another Jason. Or Dick. Or any of them. No one should have to suffer the way all of them have. It was to represent everything Bruce refused to do for the greater good.

But Bruce did kill The Joker so Jason feels lost.

But then you offer this warm smile, one that says you understand every single thought in his mind without him ever having to explain.

"Yeah..." You sigh softly. "Fuck Bruce." You laugh softly. "I like it, by the way. Bruce only killed him for you. He never would have under any other circumstances." You pause before you tilt your head to the left quickly, raise your brows. "Well, he might have for Dick, too. But, it would have to be one of you. So...good for you, Jay." You nod your head softly.

"Don't think it's fucked?" Jason chortles.

"Oh, no it definitely is." You nod quickly. "I mean, just when I think I've got some daddy issues, I meet you and Dick. It's definitely fucked. But, like it anyway." You smile but Jason doesn't quite match it. There's a sadness washing itself over his face. "I think Gotham will like it, too." You say quietly.

"Yeah? Why?" Jason repositions, pulling his right leg to his chest. "Because I'm charismatic and enthralling?" A touch of a grin finds itself on his lips.

"Fuck you, no." You laugh softly. "They're brainwashed but...I think it took one video because you've already been out there controlling the drug trade, looking to get into guns. You've taken out some really terrible people and are trying to get this shit under control. They already liked you."

"I also helped get a drug onto the streets and contributed to everything with Crane." Jason points out.

"Yeah, but you've been distancing yourself and you also tried to save Nightwing. I mean, you tried to kill him, too but you just tried to save him and they'll remember that. They'll figure out Crane brainwashed them and see you were also brainwashed."

"I guess we'll see." Jason lets out a scoff. "But, thanks." Jason offers you a nod.

"Just being honest." You pull in a breath as you move your stare back to the window. "You gonna keep Red Hooding after this is over then?" You look back at him with hopeful eyes.

Jason shrugs. "Yeah, maybe." Jason nods his head softly. "Especially with Bruce fucking MIA." Jason gives you a soft smile. "You gonna keep this shit up?"

"Absolutely." You nod with confidence. "You're right, I do like it. The vigilantism, I mean." Your smile turns kind and loving. "You're a good Red Hood. You're gonna help a lot of people, Jay." Your smile is warm and honest, filling Jason's entire chest with hope.

"So are you." Jason matches the smile before the two of you look to the window, falling into a comfortable silence.

You get a text from Dick, apparently, the towers are back and running which is a relief but according to his text, Crane released some of his smoke downtown. He leaves the text with a warning for you and Jason to stay where you are until the smoke dies down or until he says otherwise. So, the two of you seem to be stuck here for the night.

You're safe here, entirely. You don't have to worry about the smoke or anyone coming to kill you. You're safe from it all for the first time in weeks and it's as if, weirdly as it is, you both can breathe freely. It doesn't feel like your very breath can shatter the illusion of peace. You both are allowed to breathe freely and openly.

You let your mind wander anywhere but to the disaster outside. The more you're in these situations, the more you're learning to compartmentalize it. There is no choice in this. It has to be done otherwise it'll eat you. You wonder how Dick is able to do it so well. Surely that's how he's so good at being Nightwing. He isn't heartless, he just shelves what he needs to until after a mission. It's something you need to be better at and so you sit here tonight and try to do it. You focus on anything but the disaster.

And then there's Jason who finds his mind going to your previous conversation a few minutes ago. You think he can be a hero again. He can use Red Hood for good, do it his own way. He lifts his head, looking over at you and how peaceful you look. You really do trust him. You really do just believe in him, after everything, there's something in you that believes in him even when you absolutely should not.

Jason keeps his eyes on you, wondering if you're right. He hopes you are. Jason just wants to help. That's what he wants to do. That's all he's wanted to do. That was supposed to be the plan before Crane showed his true motive. Jason wants to help the innocent people Bruce overlooks. Sex workers, sexual assault victims, domestic violence survivors, children who are put in all of these situations. A lot of them never make it onto Bruce's radar. He's busy dealing with everything else and a lot more of it happens in places like Crime Alley, somewhere Bruce doesn't go unless it's the anniversary of his parents' death. Someone needs to keep them safe, too. He wants to control the crime because he does believe that's the right way. No one can stop crime. That's impossible. But, Jason thinks he can control it. It's worth a shot. Someone needs to try. That's what he wants to do.

Maybe he can do it.

"I can feel you staring at me, Jay." You state as you look back over at him.

"Sorry." Jason mutters, feeling heat rush over his cheeks as he looks back outside.

"What's going inside that head of yours?" You ask.

Jason looks back to you, letting a beat pass before he settles on what to say. "Thanks for believing in me and being here." Jason pulls in a breath.

"Always." You say softly before it goes quiet again.

Time ticks by and it's you that ends up glancing towards Jason. He's holding his bad leg to his chest, seeming to be absentmindedly massaging the muscle of his thigh with his thumbs as he keeps his stare out the window. The white streak reflects off the lights from the window and the bruises are bright red from Dick's fists and enimga sticks. But, he doesn't look stressed this time. He looks content for once. And you always think there's hope for him but his position confirms it.

Which, lets your mind wander back to how you and him were. It wanders back to the night outside Excellent Gotham. It was the right thing to do. There is good, there is bad, and there is all of this grey in between. Something might be the right thing to do, for the greater good, to save someone, but that doesn't always make it fair or just or painless. It was the right thing to do, to save Jason. But, you wonder in the silence of the night, what happens after then. The bell has been rung and you're dealing with it but it doesn't feel good. Being around him feels like you're trying to breathe through water. You don't want to give up on you and him. You're gonna take out Crane, the Titans are going to leave, Bruce will probably come back, and it'll start to fall back into a new normal. And you want to know what kind of new normal that's going to be.

You want the new normal to still be you and him.

But you don't even want to ask about it. You hurt him and it just doesn't feel right to ask even if it'll gnaw at you until you do.

"I can feel you staring." Jason quips, looking at you, saying it on purpose.

You roll your eyes but the smile never reaches your eyes before it falls. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." You mock him, waving a hand haphazardly at him before you get to your feet and stretch before you lean your back against the wall. You look back at Jason and you can tell by the raise of his brows and his wide eyes, he's expecting you to elaborate. You let out a defeated sigh. "Hey, Jay?"

"Yes?" Jason answers expectantly.

"Where do we stand?" You ask bluntly. "I mean....you and me." You nod once. "After all of this and everything. I'll follow your lead." You nod a few times. "Ball's in your court this time."

As much as you would like to go to the roof and scream your lungs out about how much you want to be with him and how much you love him, you know you can't. None of that is fair to him. Jason Todd was murdered and then came back from the dead. He was used and abused and manipulated. He's not fine and he should be able to learn how to live now, rediscover who he is after all of this if he needs to. You telling him you want to go right back to where you were before he died, sounds cruel. It's as if you won't give him a choice, like you expect him to just be normal and you don't. So, you ask him and you let it be his decision because it should be. It was you that ended things anyway and it was you that betrayed him, more than he betrayed you is the way you see it.

Jason feels his heart in his throat. He hates this but he knows there is no other choice. He swears this one fucking time, he is not doing it to push. He is doing it for himself and for you. He owes you more. He owes you more than he has ever given you. He owes himself more.

You have said it over and over that Jason is loved and he is not alone, at the very least, he has you and he is loved by you. There is not a single day that he is not eternally grateful for you. But, that's not enough. It's not enough because, after everything, Jason still feels like he is not enough. He watches the chaos he has brought on all of these people who he cares about and who care about him. Someone who is enough, doesn't do that. And he died. The trauma of that isn't going to go away because you love him and he loves you. He desperately wishes it were so simple, but it's not.

Jason swore he would never hurt you but he thinks about that night outside of Excellent Gotham and how it looked like it was ripping you to shreds to end things and to give up on him, even if you never meant it. You didn't deserve it. He needs to figure himself out and sort out some of this pain in his chest before it metastasizes more. He needs to just exist for a second and work on who he is after coming back. He owes it to himself and then he owes it to you. It's not fair to continue something if he isn't sure he'll be okay in the end of this. That's not fair to either of you.

So, as much as it physically pains him, he knows where you stand.

"Uh..." Jason pulls in a breath and you know. Jason doesn't stutter often. "I really fucking hurt you." Jason nods his head.

"I hurt you..." You hang your head in shame before looking back to him.

"Yeah, deserved it though." Jason lets out a scoff before he shakes his head. "Look," Jason starts as he pushes himself off the wall and walks over to you, standing in front of you. "I don't want to ever hurt you again." Jason states and you know there is a but coming. This is not going to end the way you dreamed it would. "So, I think-think we need to sort our shit out."

You hang your head, feeling the lump in your throat. It was as if the night you ended things, it wasn't quite real. He was high and you were mad. Then you rescued him and it's been kind of weird ever since. It didn't feel quite like you broke up but it didn't feel like you were together. It has felt like this weird state of in-between where you're tripping over each other trying to find the right footing. And now, it seems you've found it in an unknown territory. It's scary.

It's scary because after being rescued, Jason is one of the only things you know. And you know that it's going to be good for you to find yourself without him, find out who you are outside of Jason and the Titans. It's for the best and you know. But, you also know Jason and Jason Todd has always loved to avoid things that are good for him. Good to him. What if he avoids this forever and this is really it?

"I'm sorry." Jason says quietly.

"It's okay." You nod up at him. "You're, uh, you're right. You died."

As much as you saw it coming, you feel blindsided. You are not together. He is not breaking up with you because you did it first. But, it feels that way anyway. He is right. You need time and space to heal and deal with everything that's happened. Maybe you could do that together but maybe you need to figure out who you are now. You are not the same people you were before he died. Jason Todd died that day and so did you. You need to just exist without each other even if it is the most painful thing either of you will ever do.

Jason nods. "Yeah," He scoffs. "It's not fucking fair to you or me if we jump into this shit again."

You nod softly. "Yeah...you're right." You push off the wall, closing the distance between you. "For what it's worth, I'm still sorry for everything that's happened to you, Jay." You sniffle softly.

"Thanks. I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you, too." Jason lets out a soft sigh, looking to the floor before he looks back to you. He will find his way back to you because you're everything he's ever wanted and he wants to deserve you one day. "Friends?" He asks, sticking out his hand with the quick raise of his brows.

"For now." You take his hand in yours. "We'll find our way back." You say softly but with certainty.

"Hope so." Jason quips right back with a cheeky grin. "I'll miss you being up my ass all the time."

You roll your eyes as a smile starts to fade over your lips. "Shut the fuck up." You groan,  making Jason chuckle softly. "You're my favorite person, ya know?"

"And you're mine." Jason says simply, without hesitance.

The room falls silent, the two of you still holding each other's hand right in the middle of you. It's as if you aren't sure how to backtrack. How do you go back to being friends? You were never meant to be friends. There was always something more there. Something strong and tender, throbbing and beating like a desperate heart pumping blood through an open artery. You have stained each other with every scar and crumb of yours. How do you take it back? How do you cleanse yourselves and try again? Can you even do it?

Jason's grip on your hand tightens and he doesn't want to leave it like that. As friends. The very idea is bitter and stale. He knows it's for the best. For the first time in his life, he is doing something to better himself and protect you. It's not just self-destruction this time. He wants to be better for himself. He never wants to get here again. And to do that, he needs to do it on his own. Jason won't risk dragging you down with him again as he drowns himself. He's not sure if he'll come out the other end alive this time, but he's willing to try for himself. And then for you. But, that doesn't make this whole thing easier. He still loves you. He still wants you.

You feel it, too. You know he wants to reach forward, pull you into him just for old times sake. You're going to defeat Crane tonight, one way or another, and then you'll go your separate ways for a little bit...as friends. But you think about the last time you had a proper kiss, before you knew you'd end up here. He was alive again. It was a kiss of relief. That's not how you want it to end. You fully believe you will come together again but what if you don't?

The idea makes your stomach twist into knots. And you know Jason isn't going to act on it, out of respect for you. It's the way his hand squeezes yours, the way he won't let go and how he has that dark but kind look in his eyes. The way he is intentionally holding his stance just enough away as if he'll walk into a bear trap with one step forward. He'll never act on it out of respect for your space so when Jason finally starts to move away, you pull him back.

Jason eyes you and then the very corner of your mouth twitches up as you squeeze his hand, pulling him just a little closer to you. You move your eyes up with the raise of your brows before looking back to him and then you shrug effortlessly.

Jason shakes his head. "Fuck it." Jason lets out in a single breath before dropping your hand and cupping your face, slamming his lips against yours.

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[honeyjars-sims]

3.17 Branching Out

Damien had just announced to the staff that he was no longer the CEO of Rainy Day Entertainment. The crowd erupted in gasps and people turned to their coworkers to speculate about what was going on.

Damien held up his hand. “Please, before everyone begins to panic, let me explain.” Their voices began to quiet down as everyone looked at Damien expectantly. “I’m grateful for the time I’ve spent at Rainy Day, and I have a lot of respect for the work that’s being done in the company. But that’s not where my passion lies.”

Damien began looking around the room. “My passion is here, in this room. When I decided to expand my role at Rainy Day to producing new forms of digital content, I thought I could still handle my regular duties. Now I realize I don’t have the time to continue my work in the E-Sports division and also foster the work we're doing here. So as of today, Sunny Side Studios is branching off and a new CEO will be taking over my duties at Rainy Day."

The crowd once again erupted with questions. Johnny glanced back at Lucy to gauge her reaction; surely she would know more about the situation. He was relieved to see a relaxed smile on her face.

Damien continued, “I want to assure you that his won’t affect anyone’s pay and I’m not letting anyone go. We’re only getting bigger. We’re still a part of the Rainy Day family, but I'll be devoting all of my time here. And this building?”

Damien gestured around. “The whole thing belongs to us now. That means more expansion, more content, more staff members. Speaking of, there are a couple of people I want to introduce to you.”

A man and a woman who both looked familiar to Johnny turned the corner, both smiling warmly.

“These two amazing people are Celeste and Christopher Michaelson," Damien explained. "If you’re a video game fan, which you should be"--he paused and gave a knowing look the to the staff, who responded with laughter--"I’m sure you’ve heard of them. Christopher will be joining the team as my new Production Manager, and Celeste as Creative Director. They’ll be working with us on developing new projects. Celeste?”

“I know this must come as quite a shock," Celeste acknowledged. "But I promise these changes will only lead to more growth and more opportunities for everyone here. Christopher and I would love to hear all of your ideas and suggestions for where to take things from here.”

“Our ears and offices are open to you,” Christopher chimed in. “Everyone is here because you bring something to the table, so we want to hear from you before we add on any more team members.”

“Celeste, Christopher, and I will be meeting with each department over the next few weeks to hear your suggestions and concerns, so please don’t hesitate to speak your minds. Together, we’re going to make Sunny Side Productions really shine.” The staff began to clap and cheer.

Lucy stopped to talk to Johnny briefly before joining Damien, Celeste, and Christopher in a planning meeting. "You have nothing to worry about," she promised him, seeming to have noticed his apprehension. "This is going to be a good thing."

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[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all! I'm sorry for the brief hiatus, this past week has been insane. Working at a University is NOT FOR THE WEAK. I've been doing quite shit tbh (blame crazies and my job). Anyways, this chapter is a little sad (I'm so sorry, I swear there'll be comfort later). Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Also pls remember reblogs and comments are appreciated ! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

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Chapter 6

Bugs POV 

It had been two weeks since your sleepover. You had found yourself staying over on weekends, you and Eddie falling into even more of a comfortability with one another. You both discussed everything under the sun, getting to know all the intricacies behind the other. You learned Eddie loved his tattoos and hated needles, how his family was really from nearby Hawkins but he often refused to go home due to his reputation in town. He let you know how he was the town pariah as an openly bisexual metalhead delinquent and how Hawkins was the first place he began to feel like himself. You learned he loved thrift stores and record shops, could live off of cereal and beer, and hated the smell of overly fruity vape juice (“If it fucking smells like a middle school girls locker room, why would you smoke it?”). You even learned that Eddie had a…reputation…on campus. You hadn’t heard about it until your American Government class, where the girl behind you (Christine?) had been giggling with her friends about the way the ‘punk guy who deals’ had fulfilled her ‘wildest dreams’. She went further into detail, but you tried to zone her out at that. 

Anyways, you decided to help Eddie out to face his fear of changing his major. Which led you here.

You were standing at the door of the Advising Office, Eddie fidgeting beside you. You could feel his anxiety rolling off of him in waves. Eddie was often an overthinker, but equipped at hiding it with putting on a show. He tended to not do so around you, though. You reached out gingerly, grabbing onto his elbow, the denim jacket he wore soft and worn from use against your hand. 

“Eds, it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here. I promise,” You softly whispered, eyes searching his face to try and get him to meet your gaze. 

His brown eyes met yours, full of worry as he gulped. He looked back towards the doors, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know if I can do this, Bug. What if Wayne-” 

You cut him off with a light smack to his elbow, rolling your eyes playfully. “You specifically called Wayne to talk about this. I was there. He just wants you to be happy. I remember because you put him on speaker and I still could barely hear the man.”

Eddie sighed, nodding and huffing out a breath before he headed to the door, marching inside. You smiled, your heart squeezed softly in pride. Eddie had talked with you and leaned toward Music Therapy. He felt something tug him towards helping young kids through music, letting you in on a small bit of his own struggles. You were grateful and didn’t push, only being told that he had ‘gone through some mental distress’ last year, causing him to get put in inpatient for a bit, falling behind in classes. You recalled his face as he sat on his bed with you, strumming Sweetheart (his electric guitar) softly, voice shaky with emotion. 

“The only thing that called out to me was music. I just want to be there for people who feel the same way.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts as Eddie exited the office, face in a soft smile, eyes watery with tears. You rushed over, worry sinking in. 

“What happened? Is it too late to enter those classes? Eds, I-” 

“I filled out the application to switch over. She told me that it may take a few days, but because I was within the music department anyways, it wouldn’t be a difficult switch. I have to wait to take some of the courses, but I can drop my two Production courses without penalty,” He sighed softly, his tone full of relief as he looked down at you, blinking away tears before hastily pulling you into a hug. He squeezed you softly, mumbling thank yous into your hair, clear relief flooding into your system. Eddie was affectionate and loved touch, so you were glad he was feeling better. 

You squeezed back, heart soaring. 

Everything was going to be okay.

You stood in the local Rosa’s Costumes, the store filled to the brim with props and clothing. It was a favorite of the theater department at Hawkins and had been running for years. You and Eddie were among the clearly haunted prop items and section of the store that was for some reason themed as pirates. Eddie was perusing the hundreds of clothing and costumes on the aging racks, the familiar smell of Rosa’s incense wafting through the store. 

“I don’t think we should go as anything basic, because we are anything but,” Eddie stated cheekily, wiggling his brows over at you. 

You felt your stomach twist and turn as you plastered on a smile as best as you could. Eddie was referring to the Kappa Nu party that he had extended an invite to you to. You knew Eddie usually sold at parties and while it made you nervous (he had called you his favorite little square after you expressed concern), you were more anxious at the idea of being anywhere near the Kappa Nu house. You knew it boasted the hottest girls in Hawkins and it would be packed tight with bodies on Halloween night. 

You originally had a plan of doing what you always did with Eddie: renting a lot of campy horror movies and cuddling on the couch while drinking and Eddie would smoke, the two of you laughing at the practical effects. And then maybe after you’d head into town to see the local Ghost Walk that occasionally came through detailing all the spooky haunted places in town with an over the top narrator. 

But Eddie had burst into your study period at the library with Nancy, excitedly telling you about his success in his new courses and his ability to catch up. He called for a celebration as Nancy laughed and bid the two of you goodbye to head into work. Then he told you about getting an invitation to Kappa Nu, his eyes twinkling with excitement. And honestly…

How could you have said no to that face? 

So now you were here, in a theater kids wet dream of a store, thumbing through costumes to try and stumble upon an idea. Eddie was zipping up and down aisles, a pep in his step. He was recently more animated and less stressed, the clear joy from his new classes clear as day. It warmed your heart. 

Eddie grabbed your hand, walking briskly toward an aisle before turning to grin that megawatt smile at you. “I think I just had the perfect idea,” He gushed, turning back around to lead you with determination, clearly on a mission. 

You felt your heart race and face heat up as tingles ran up and down your arms. Eddie was unaware but your crush was carving and worming it’s way deeper into your heart, the affliction becoming harder to ignore. You tried to tell yourself that it was better this way, Eddie being too good of a friend to pass up. But every hug, every cuddle, and every warm cheek kiss led to more and more of an entanglement, your mind at war with your heart. 

Even Robin began to notice. You told her there was no way he would like you back, what with being Eddie, but she wouldn’t hear your excuses. She stated that it was clear that the two of you were ‘dumbass lovesick puppies’ who ‘couldn’t read the room worth shit’. You had finished the conversation at that, seeing a resident come up to the desk, and the last thing you needed was your hall gossiping about your romantic life or lack thereof. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Eddie let go of your hand, grabbing for a ridiculously large leather jacket with a huge collar, clearly meant as a biker or greaser costume. You cocked your head at Eddie, eyebrows furrowed while you fought back a smile. 

“What are you doing with that thing?” 

“We can go as The Driller Killer and an 80’s girl! From Slumber Party Massacre 2!,” Eddie said excitedly, his dimples appearing as his grin grew. 

You laughed a bit, shaking your head with a smile. Eddie would pick the campy serial killer who was based off of a greaser and had an electric guitar with a murdering drill on the neck. It was perfect. 

“Sure, why not?,” You laughed a bit as Eddie grabbed your hand immediately to drag you off in search of the other pieces. 

Maybe the party wouldn’t be so bad. 

You were standing on the front lawn of the large white mansion, knees shaky as you felt your stomach churn. Suddenly your makeup felt stupid and your clothes too tight. You tugged on the jean shorts and blue cropped t-shirt you wore, your body feeling as though it burst into flames. Eddie grabbed your hand, squeezing it and giving you a soft smile. 

“It’ll be okay, Bug,” He said softly. 

You looked up at him, his hair coiffed carefully with the rest back in a bun, his large ridiculous leather jacket and tight jeans still looking like a dream on him. He wore the fake cutout prop of the guitar drill slung on his back and some fake blood splatter across the thing. Even in his campy get up, and laughable oversized leather collar, he looked adorable. You pinched your own leg discreetly, trying to curb the feelings. 

You nodded up at him, squeezing his hands and turning to face the house once again, walking toward it. Once you entered, you felt your senses become overwhelmed. You saw flashing lights and a million bodies stuffed within the house. The smell of weed and alcohol along with perfume, cologne, sweat, and sugar lingered in the air, making your head spin. You felt the bass of the music playing inside vibrate through the floor, traveling through your bones almost. You clung to Eddie, feeling as if you’d either vomit or faint if you let go. Eddie rubbed your hand softly, leading you deeper inside to the kitchen, the room’s island filled with various bottles and bar piled high with boxes and cans of soda, Twisted Teas, Trulys, White Claws, a large plastic tub of bright pink alcohol brimming with fruit. Eddie grabbed a cup with ice and a coke can and the Jack Daniels bottle, quickly mixing up a Jack and Coke for you. He handed you the cup, your fingers brushing as you grabbed the sticky red plastic. Your heart sped up as your whole body felt a burst of heat and electricity. You tried to brush it off. 

“Thanks, Ed,” You shouted over the music as he nodded softly at you, a smile on his lips. 

You took a sip, determined to let loose and forget this impending tornado of feelings swirling in you. You could be calm. You could let go. 

Eddie grabbed himself a beer, smiling at you and pointing to turn your attention towards Robin and Steve, the two clearly already intoxicated. They were dressed like Doc Brown and Marty, Robin amusingly dressed as the doctor (though she had removed the wig and was twirling it in the air it seemed) and Steve dressed as Marty, puffer jacket and all. You laughed, waving at them. Robin waved, and elbowed Steve to wave back. 

Jonathan and Argyle appeared then, dressed as Cheech and Chong. Jonathan smiled at Eddie as Argyle nodded at the two of you. 

“Killer costumes, dudes. No one appreciates campy horror these days,” He mused, taking a sip of his soda. 

Jonathan furrowed his brows and shook his head, clearly not as aware of the reference to your costumes as Argyle. He was about to open his mouth when Steve and Robin came up. Steve slung his arm around Jonathan’s shoulder while holding his half empty cup in the other hand, grinning. 

“Wassup guys? I- I had a little too mu-much,” Steve hiccuped, grinning. 

You laughed softly, covering your mouth with your hand. Steve could be a bit of a worrywart and mother hen, so it was nice to see him let loose on these occasions. 

“Hey-hey….psst….Roomie!,” Steve frantically whispered to Eddie, causing Eddie to grin a bit. 

“Yes, roomie?,” Eddie teased, clearly keeping a mental note of the interaction to tease Steve for later. 

“I- I saw that hot girl you’ve been see-ing a bi-bit…here…She was over t-there,” Steve slurred, lifting a weak finger to point behind you. 

You felt your stomach churn. Eddie had been seeing someone? You knew he hooked up with plenty of people before but had put a pause on it for a bit. You looked up to Eddie out of the corner of your eye, seeing his face pale a bit as he faked a laugh, eyes guarded as he tried to change the subject. Was he hiding a girl from you? Something serious? Your heart raced as you felt as though a thorned vine wrapped around it, squeezing and puncturing it, your mind going through every scenario. 

While lost in your thoughts, Steve lost his footing and slipped from Jonathan's grip, losing his hold on his drink. The bright pink liquid mostly splattering on your shirt, making you come to your senses while also feeling anxiety bubble up and tears sting the back of your eyes,. 

“Oh-Oh Bu-bug I’m soo sorry, I-,” Steve blubbered, eyes wide in panic as he looked at you and you felt your walls come up. You needed to get out of here. 

“It’s okay. I’m just gonna go clean up,” You said softly to the group, eyes with a blank stare as you pushed through the crowd to go upstairs. 

You happened upon a miraculously empty bathroom, entering and wetting a towel while dabbing at the bright blue shirt, actions getting more frantic as your vision began to blur. You began to feel your hands shake as you sobbed softly, 

You were a fool. 

Girls like you didn’t get Eddie Munson. Girls like you didn’t get dates, period.  You studied and worked snitchy jobs and lost sleep over not pleasing people. You avoided new things and never stepped out of your comfort zone. You pinpointed every flaw in the mirror until it was all you could see. Boys like Eddie Munson knew nothing but kindness and courage, building a thick skin, and women pinning and giggling after them. Eddie Munson knew adventures and spontaneity, he knew dates with people and sudden hookups. Hell, he knew sorority girls. 

You leaned over the bathroom counter, the sobs wracking your body now as you lost control. You felt your insides twist and turn and pull. You were a lost cause. You couldn’t lose your friendship, but you felt the feelings pouring out of your skin and bones, shattering your insides. 

You sobbed more, scratching your throat raw, your whole body aching with pain. 

It hurt. Knowing you were not enough. 

You should’ve known it was coming, as it did always, but you felt it so deeply now that you wouldn’t soon forget. 

You sobbed until there were no more tears left, hands gripping the counter as you looked up to assess the damage. Your bright blue eyeshadow and liner were now muddy splotches on your face, swirling colors. You sighed, wetting the towel again, going to scrub off the evidence, your heart sinking. 

You’d have to put walls up. You wouldn’t give up Eddie. Just…be more realistic. 

You scrubbed until your face was rubbed raw and felt warm from all the friction of the scratchy guest bathroom towel, your mind and heart too fresh with pain to consider the germs. You splashed some water on your face before beginning to head down, 

You headed down the stairs when you spotted it in the dark corner of the crowded room.

Eddie. And a petite blonde.

She was giggling at something he said as they talked, her hand on his arm. She was dressed as a cheerleader, the costume clearly a real uniform from her days in high school. Eddie was speaking animatedly with her, clearly unaware of your current state. 

You raced down the stairs, dodging bodies as you zoomed past Argyle, barely hearing him call out as you rushed out the building, heading outside to the cold and lonely air. 

Fuck Halloween.

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90

[anyalovesu]

we're not saints at all.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚ eight ༘ ˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚

necessary reminders:

contains 🔞🔞🔞 minors dni

🔞 is not pw authenticated anymore ( cri ) but yea i hope that you guys are old enough to read the content you consume

more warnings on the second part tnx

also i only have like 2 chapters left wkwkwkwkw tnx for hanging around with me for this oneee!!

oh and mdni !! pls pls pls

The waiting game was exhausting. 5:30PM, on the dot, Tobi and Ally were there in the waiting area of the arrival terminal in his black hoodie, all masked up to avoid getting noticed. After the entire fiasco with Kashiana, the last thing he wants is to attract more attention to him and Jas and cause another scene that might reflect on Jas’ social media platforms again. He’s had enough of the allegations they have received the past few days. Thank the good gods out there for giving them friends who work in the legal field that this was sorted out quicker than he was expecting. 

The silence to himself was eating him alive, especially with him sitting next to Ally who made the speedy process possible. If he was honest, it was a mystery to him why they managed to forgive him. What he did to Jas was beyond forgiving if it was done to him, but here they are, helping him with whatever plan he has so he can fix things with Jas. Bella even pulled personal strings just so he would be able to reserve one of the back rooms in Sunday Vine, so he can take Jacynthe to dinner. The way Eli still speaks to him in the same gentle tone even when she gets frustrated with how dense he gets every time he asks her for tips. It didn’t feel real to him that her friends are still helping him.

“Ang aga aga mo naman kasi umalis, Park,” Ally complained, hands reaching up to stretch out her back from being hunched as she has been writing her novel the past 30 minutes.

“6:30 daw eh,” he responds nonchalantly, shrugging before glancing on his phone again to check the time.

“Park, landing time and 6:30! If they get delayed, now what? Anong gagawin natin?”

“They’re flying with Azure Air,” he shakes his head. “They rarely get delayed, Al.”

“Ang tagal tagal naman kasi, dong,” she huffs, shutting her laptop down. “Patatawarin ka naman noon kahit late ka!”

“That's not the point.”

“I never asked this before,” she sighs, sliding her laptop down her purse before turning to look at him. “Mostly dahil ayaw kong makarinig ng maling sagot.”

“Ano ‘yon?” Tobi could feel his heart thumping against his chest as he waited for Althea to drop the ball on him.

“Seryoso ka na ba talaga kay Jas?” she asked. “Kasi kung hindi p’wede ka pa naman umuwi. Kaya ko naman iuwi ang dalawang ‘yon mula Pampanga hanggang QC.”

“I’m serious, Althea,” he says firmly.

“Jas always loves too much,” she stated. “Are you ready for that? Kaya mo bang suklian ‘yon? Inalagaan namin si Jas every time someone broke her heart. Can you promise me na you’re going to try to be the last one?”

“I can promise that, Al,” Tobi promises. “I will be the last one. Ally, I never wanted someone to spend my entire life with before until Jas came around. God, I fixed my relationship with my mom just so I could have a shot for her forgiveness. Mahal na mahal ko si Jas.”

“Good,” she hummed, swiftly running a hand over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. “Because that woman has never been that in love before you. God, ang lungkot, all of a sudden at the slightest hint of pain she’s writing the saddest shit. I can’t take it anymore. Nadadamay kaming lahat!”

“You do that too,” he snorted.

“I didn’t know you read my books, Park?”

“Jas read your books aloud to me as an aftersex routine before,” he chuckles embarrassingly at the thought of sharing that kind of intimate detail to her best friend. “You are a sad person too, Ally Kim.”

“Bad parents, raise sad children,” she replied softly, looking away.

“Makes sense,” Tobi replied, before leaning back on the back rest of his seat as well. “It’s really funny how Jas managed to get us to mend our broken relationships with our parents.”

“Yeah,” Al sighed. “I guess she did that.”

“How are they now?”

“Are you really trying to get me to open up to you, Tobi?” Ally rolled her eyes at him. 

“Ano pang gagawin natin dito kung hindi magusap? Maliban sa napakagalante ng magulang mo at dito tayo dinala sa VIP na lounge tayo pinapunta, wala rin naman di talaga tayong ibang gagawin kung di magchismisan dito.”

I took some time before Al replied to him, contemplating on whether he should reply.

“They’re okay now,” she replied. “Nagsorry sila for pushing me away noong hindi ako nagtuloy magpractice ng law. They saw how successful I got. Apparently, muntikan na palang maassasinate ang tatay ko after he won a case against a politician noong isang buwan. Sabi nila they have never been more glad that I didn't go that route.”

“Politicians are insane.”

“True. But also they found out I was dating Attorney Santos’ golden boy,” she shrugged. “I still have mixed feelings. But they apologized. I guess that’s a big thing now. My parents are good and I have a hot boyfriend. All is well, I think.”

“Good point.”

“You and your mom?”

“Yeah, she didn’t apologize directly,” he replied casually. “Baka hindi lang rin n’ya alam kung paano. But she’s trying. She wants to be friends with me apparently. Asking me to hang out and be around me and Bianca more. I understand where she’s coming from though. He had to make Leon that perfect little boy in the eyes of the Yangs, and she did that. Big weights off her shoulders.”

“It shouldn’t be our responsibility to understand why our parents weren’t good parents,” she sighed. “But it is what it is, I suppose.”

“I used to feel jealous how Doctora Daphne managed to raise Jas so nicely,” Tobi muttered quietly. “Jas is such a good person. Alam ko naman sa sarili ko na hindi ko kayang maging ganoon kabuti given the circumstances that I grew up on.”

“But you want to be better, no?”

Tobi nodded. 

“I feel that too. That’s exactly how I feel with Kyle. That boy is too nice for the world and I’m this whole mess that didn’t go to law school because it was never what I wanted.”

“Good people make us want to be good people,” Tobi chuckles to himself, fiddling on the buttons of his phone to distract himself. “Love does that to us, I think.”

“Promise me you’ll always be in love with my Jas, okay?” she hummed at him. “I don’t want to ever see you walk away from her like her dad did, or like every single man did in her life. May pagsatanga si Jas kaya tatanggapin ka noon palagi—but for the love of God, don’t take the opportunity every time. Last na dapat ‘to.”

“I will do just that, Ally.”

“That woman is crazy for you, Tobi,” she sighed heavily. “And we’ll do anything to see her happy, even if it means forcing you to be the man she needs.”

“You don’t have to force me to do it,” Tobi replied politely. “I can always try and if I fail, uulit nalang uli until I get it right.”

“Very good.”

-

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚ continue here ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚

[yunjin-lover]

The Stars That Never Align

Summary: Being famous is hard. Dating is hard. Two superstars try to make their relationship work in their drama-filled lives. Can they do it?

Huh Yunjin x Fem!Reader

~multiple chapters

Y/n Pov

Los Angeles, California, U.S.A

Chapter Three

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Yunjin comes back to LA tonight. Scary. After reading the article about her and Karina yesterday I'm not sure how to feel. I know nothing happened between them but still, it hurt seeing the girl I love with the girl that ruined me for a while.

Even though the article was posted yesterday most people forgot about it as there was new drama today surrounding my friend Soobin. Shout out to him. He didn't do anything bad, he was just rumored to be dating actress Yeji Hwang. They aren't dating, he confirmed in our friend group chat, still funny though.

I felt my phone vibrate next to me. I reached to pick it up. A message notification from Yunjin.

"Can't meet up today. Maybe tomorrow. Sorry," It read.

I sighed, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. Disappointment because I wanted to see her and talk things through, and relief because it gave me more time to process everything. I tossed my phone aside and buried my face in my pillow, trying to sort out my emotions.

A knock on my bedroom door jolted me from my thoughts. "Who is it?" I asked startled

My friends Jake and Sakura poked their heads in.

"We're here to cheer you up." Sakura said from the door way.

I forced a smile. "How?"

Jake stepped in and sat at the edge of my bed. "Well Namjoon is throwing a party tonight for his album release. Wanna come?"

"A party? Wait how the fuck did you guys get in my apartment?"

"Don't worry about it," Jake said with a grin. "So will you come or not?"

I hesitated, glancing at my phone again. Yunjin's message was still there, I hadn’t replied yet. A party? Maybe this is what I need to relax.

"Yeah, okay," I finally said, swinging my legs off the bed. "I'll come."

Sakura clapped her hands in excitement. "Great! It'll be fun, I promise. And who knows, maybe it'll help take your mind off things."

"Yeah, maybe," I replied, though I wasn't entirely convinced.

I got dressed, choosing something casual but nice enough for a party. Jake and Sakura waited patiently, chatting about their day and the latest gossip.

“Soobin and Yeji?” Sakura joked, “Soobin’s too shy to order his own food at restaurants no way he pulled Yeji.”

“He said it wasn’t true in the group chat.” Jake replied, “but who knows maybe he did pull her.”

I laughed. Their presence was comforting, and I felt a little lighter as we headed out.

The party was in full swing by the time we arrived. The music was loud, and the room was packed with people. Namjoon spotted us from across the room and waved us over.

"Hey, glad you could make it!" he shouted over the noise, pulling me into a quick hug.

"Wouldn't miss it," I replied, trying to match his enthusiasm.

As the night went on, I found myself relaxing a bit. Jake and Sakura stuck by my side, introducing me to people and making sure I had a drink in my hand. For a few hours, I managed to push thoughts of Yunjin and Karina to the back of my mind and just enjoy the moment.

But eventually, reality crept back in especially with the help from the alcohol. I stepped outside for some fresh air, needing a break from the noise and the crowd. I leaned against the wall, looking up at the night sky, lost in thought.

"Hey, you okay?" Someone asked, coming up beside me. I recognized the voice.

"Yeah, just needed a breather," I replied, facing the voice

There stood Karina.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Lacrymaria olor 2

In which a talk with Jimin clears up some very important questions about Jungkook.

Tags/Warnings: Alien AU, Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Blood and Violence, Strangers to I don't know?

Additional Chapter Warnings: human!Jimin makes an appearance, Namjoon being forced to babysit lol, some talk about JK, lore?, soft JK oh my

<- Previous | Next ->

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"You better take care of her, or I will pull your throat out of your neck, got it?" Jungkook smiles as he hugs you, eyes closed while his words are directed at Namjoon who clenches his jaw for a second, presumably biting back any comment he might have.

"Jungkook you're gonna be late-" you say, and he whines for a second before he parts from you, a pout on his lips while his hand caresses your cheek.

"I'll be back before the sun sets, promise." He tells you, and for a second, your breath stops when he leans in, to press a kiss to your forehead.

You're almost disappointed.

The moment he leaves, someone else puts a hand on your shoulder, friendly face coming into view next to you the moment you turn to check who it might be. "I'm Jimin. Namjoon has told me about you already." He offers, and you smile, relaxing now that you know there's no danger around.

"I've heard about you too." You mention a bit shyly, following him into the small home Namjoon owns together with the human.

"Only good things I hope!" Jimin chirps, leading you to a seating area near large windows, where he invites you with a pat on the blankets. "So, you're the king's obsession. Can't say I was surprised when I heard how infatuated he is with you." He chuckles.

"I.. honestly don't know why." You admit. "It's odd to me."

"It really isn't." Jimin responds, offering you something that looks like chocolate. "Temian people always follow strength. That's how society works for them." He shrugs.

"But.. then it makes even less sense." You say, surprised at the odd but pleasant taste of the candy. "I'm literally nothing but a bug compared to him. He basically crushed a guy's face in with his knee last week! And it didn't even look like he put much effort into it!" You argue, eyes wide while Jimin cringes a bit.

"Hm, I can imagine." He shudders. "But, they don't define strength as solely physical. You've survived on your own on a foreign planet for years after having the intention to sacrifice yourself for a friend. Dont worry, Namjoon dug up some things about you." He says. "So it makes sense he sees you as attractive."

You cough at that, looking at the fellow human as if he'd just grown a new head. "He what?!"

"Temians don't care about visual attractiveness, or even gender, you know? They only care about actions and character." He says. "Namjoon, for example, sees me as a partner just because I don't shy away from speaking my mind with him. It's weird how that works."

"So.. he's got a crush on me because I was homeless and illegally living on his planet?" You raise your eyebrow, making another person laugh- Namjoon, who sets down two steaming mugs of something herbal smelling.

"Jungkook deems you platonically and sexually attractive, yes. It is very obvious by the admittedly disgusting behavior he displays around you." He chuckles. "He's impressed by your past achievements. No other human would've dared to do what you did." The Temian explains.

"But.." you become a bit uncomfortable now, unsure.

"Dont be worried about any forced actions taken by him. I know that he can be.. a lot, especially in the departments of affection, but don't worry about accidentally saying something that could harm you. Against what your race believes, we're not animals." Namjoon tells you calmly. "A no is a no. The act of intertwining isn't one we take lightly."

"What he's saying is that sex is an almost sacred thing." Jimin explains rather bluntly, making your cheeks heat up a little.

"And Jungkook has been betrayed once before." Namjoon offers, his gaze a bit distant. "To see him like this again, fills me with comfort. For a long time, this side of him had not been seen by anyone." He says.

"He.." you start, and Jimin shrugs.

"His past lover left for a human mate she'd been screwing around with for a while. Jungkook knew, after all their senses are pretty sharp- but he always thought that she at least always came back to him." He tells you. "Until she didn't."

"Thays horrible." You say, unable to imagine the emotions that the king must've gone through. Until now, you had only seen him as either a carefree, impish young man or a very determined king - but this changed your perspective a bit.

Maybe you've judged him too quickly. Maybe there's more to him than what you've assumed.

You don't know when exactly you fell asleep, but after that tea and the warm conversations with Jimin, you simply couldn't help but nap away the rest of the day, knowing that Namjoon would watch over you, and Jungkook would pick you up later.

The young king in question is heard laughing a bit under his breath as he carefully looks at you, and you act asleep to find out what he might say if he was to think you weren't conscious yet.

"We spoke to her about Hana." Namjoon speaks somewhere in the background, and Jungkook's hand instantly leaves your body.

"Why? She doesn't need to know about that snake." He spits, and for a short moment, it's quiet before he speaks again. "And it's not like it concerns her anyways."

"You're clearly more than infatuated with her. She deserves to know you, and not just the you that stands here right now." The older Temian says.

"I do not pry at her past either, do I?" Jungkook bites back, clearly sounding irritated now. "Since when do we ever care about things that we can not change anyways? Is your human spoiling your brain?" He jokingly stabs.

"You're right." Namjoon caves in. "I'm just happy for you."

"How so?" He wonders, carefully removing the blanket you snuggled under.

Namjoon chuckles. "You seem happy."

"I am happy." He chuckles. "I receive honesty from her." He hums, carefully picking you up.

Bringing you home with him, back where you belong.

[aishangotome]

Ellis Twilight: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

♡———♡

Ellis: Sorry to keep you waiting, Jude.

Jude: ...Huh?

Seeing me with Ellis, Jude gave him a momentary look of exasperation, but surprisingly, he didn't say anything.

(—Or rather...)

Kate: I'll be accompanying you as a Fairytale Keeper, nice to meet you!

Jude: ...Tch.

He clicked his tongue at Ellis, as if he knew it was pointless to say anything, and completely ignored my presence.

Ellis: I delivered the instructions for the procurement department, which is setting sail today, last night.

Jude: Of course. If it hadn't arrived first thing in the mornin', I woulda docked your pay.

(Even though he works as a Crown member, he still has to do company work... They're both so busy.)

I observed them silently, trying not to get in the way, and followed behind Jude with Ellis.

From my observations, I learned that...

Jude's company, Raven Inc., was a diversified trading company with branches overseas and a wide range of businesses.

Whether it was negotiating in the VIP room of London's leading department store or meeting with the inspection staff at the Port of London, the time spent following the two of them flew by.

-

And as for their work performance...

Jude: No deal until ya make amends.

Jude: It's only natural since ya've done something wrong. If ya don't wannna get into debt, cough up blood and make up for it.

Jude, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, seemed to be respected by his business partners, envied by his competitors, and revered by his employees.

On the other hand—.

Ellis: It's okay, I'll take care of the rest.

Ellis: This document is easy to get wrong. I'll teach you if you don't understand, so let's fix it together.

Ellis, with his gentle demeanor and attentiveness, was well-liked by everyone he met, both inside and outside the company.

(They're a perfect pair of opposites.)

In the meantime, the short hand of Big Ben was approaching the top.

Jude: Ya don't hafta come to the head office. I dunno what they'll say if I show up with a bonus.

Ellis: Yeah, I got it.

Kate: Thank you for allowing me to accompany you.

Jude: ...Ha, I'm looking forward to hearin' ya say the same thing the next time we meet.

(What does he mean by that...?)

I tilted my head, not understanding the meaning of his words.

Jude: Ya brought her here, so ya clean up afta' her. I won't interfere.

Ellis: Yeah... that's the plan.

(...It seems like Ellis understands.)

Jude left without even glancing at me, and Ellis turned to face me.

Ellis: You must be tired. I'm sorry for dragging you around.

Kate: No, not at all! I'm quite strong. I've been trained by delivering mail.

Ellis: Oh, good. ...Then, while we're at it,

Ellis: Would you mind accompanying me a little longer?

A little more, please, he said, and the place he brought me to was--

-

(Why am I here...!? )

It was the post office where I used to work.

As I hesitated at the entrance, Ellis turned around.

Ellis: What's wrong?

(I'd like to ask you that...)

Kate: I have a lot of acquaintances here because it's my workplace... Is it okay to meet before the promised month?

Ellis: Victor said that there are no restrictions except for going out alone, so I think it's okay.

A more relaxed answer than I expected came back, and I blinked.

(It's not something someone being watched should say... Are you sure it's okay?)

Ellis: I have some mail to send. I'll take care of the procedures, so do as you please.

Kate: Yes...

He left me there and headed for the counter.

(What if I ask my acquaintances for help and confidential information is leaked...?)

I can't hide my confusion at the overly casual "surveillance."

(At least, Ellis... trusts that I won't do such a thing, right?)

(Or--)

(If information is leaked, at that point, everyone who knows, including me, will be eliminated...)

"Shall I kill you?"

I remembered him saying that so casually, and I shook my head in a hurry...

Coworker with Braids: Kate!?

Kate: Ah!

Coworker with Braids: It is Kate! Everyone, Kate is here!

At that voice, my colleagues gathered around.

Coworker with Red Hair: Kate, what's with suddenly working at the palace?

Coworker with Black Eyes: We were all worried about you.

(They're so worried just because I suddenly stopped coming to work.)

(I can't tell everyone the truth.)

(And I definitely can't tell them that I don't know if I'll be able to come back safely in a month.)

(But...)

I didn't want to worry them, so I swallowed my anxiety.

Kate: I'm fine. Although it's only my first day and I don't know left from right.

Kate: I'm sure it'll be alright.

Coworker with Braids: Well, Kate, who turned a difficult customer into a good customer, would be fine anywhere.

Coworker with Red Hair: We'd be in trouble if you disappeared suddenly. We'd be lonely.

Kate: I'm... really sorry about that. It was beyond my control.

Coworker with Braids: Well, you can't really refuse an order from the palace.

Coworker with Black Eyes: But we're rooting for you, Kate.

Coworker with Red Hair: Here, take this!

Coworker with Red Hair: We bought it together, thinking we'd give it to you if you stopped by. I'm glad we could give it to you.

Kate: Wow... this much?

Presents piled up in my arms.

A blanket, cookies from my favorite shop, letters from my colleagues.

Kate: Thank you...

I held happiness in my arms, but if I moved, I might drop something, so I couldn't move a step...

Ellis: I'll carry it. Let me have it.

The items were snatched away from me from the side.

The eyes of my colleagues turned to Ellis at once.

Coworker with Braids: Wait... Who!? Kate's boyfriend!?

Coworker with Red Hair: Ah, I know this guy! He's the one guarding the scary trader!

It turned into quite a commotion.

Coworker with Braids: Kate, explain your relationship with this handsome guy!

Kate: Uh, well... He's an acquaintance from my work at the palace. We just met yesterday.

Coworker with Braids: Hmm, but it seems like you're pretty close for that.

Coworker with Red Hair: Suspicious...!

Kate: Wait, everyone, calm down...

As I was trying to calm down my excited colleagues, Ellis took the rest of the presents from my arms.

Ellis: It's become a big fuss... I'm sorry. I'll wait outside.

Kate: Ah... I'm so sorry! I'll be right there.

Ellis: Take your time.

I gave a small bow to everyone and saw Ellis off as he headed outside.

(I made him worry...)

Coworker with Braids: Marriage before returning to work...?

Coworker with Red Hair: Congratulations.

Kate: I told you, it's not like that...!

---In the end, the commotion was abruptly stopped by the postmaster's voice from the back, telling us to "stop it."

-

After saying goodbye to my colleagues and going outside, Ellis, carrying the presents, was leaning against a streetlight, waiting for me.

(He looks like a picture, even from a distance.)

His figure, with a supple body and long limbs extending from it, stood out in the cityscape.

Kate: I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.

Ellis: No, not at all. ...You could have talked more.

Kate: It's fine! Um, my colleagues made some very rude remarks...

Even though we're just working together, I might have made him feel bad by being teased about being my boyfriend.

(If I could apologize somehow... Ah, that's right.)

Kate: There's a delicious baguette shop nearby. Please let me treat you there as an apology.

Ellis: ........

His light-filled eyes stared at me as if he had found something.

Ellis: I think I understand a little bit why you get so many presents.

Kate: Huh...?

With a large bag full of presents from my colleagues in his hand, Ellis took a step towards me and... brought his face close enough to touch my forehead.

Ellis: No, you don't have to treat me, but I'm curious about your recommended shop.

(...Ellis is still a mystery to me.)

But his kindness had definitely entered my heart.

As proof of that, our second meal together was much more lively than breakfast--

-

Kate: Wow, it's already this late...?

When we left the shop, dusk was approaching.

Ellis: ...Let's get back to the castle soon.

Ellis looked at the streetscape as it began to darken and coughed abruptly.

It was the first time I heard his voice with a slightly urgent nuance, and I was startled by my own excitement.

(I've kept him company for so long, but maybe he had plans for the evening.)

Kate: If we go through this alley, it's a bit of a shortcut.

With my knowledge of the area from my mail delivery days, I stepped into a narrow alley.

Ellis: Ah...

Ellis: ...Well, I guess it's okay if we're together.

-

We walked quickly through the alley, which was shaded from the sun and gradually getting darker.

We were almost at the bright street.

Man in Hunting Hat: ..........

Suddenly, a man appeared, blocking our way. I instinctively tried to avoid him by moving to the side of the road, but--

(Huh...?)

The man stepped forward, blocking my way.

I felt something strange in the air and turned around to see two more men appearing behind me.

Man in Hunting Hat: Are you Jude Jazza's woman?

(Jude?)

Kate: No, I'm not, but... who are you?

Man in Hunting Hat: We'll confirm the facts later. Capture her.

The three men suddenly took out knives from their pockets and attacked.

(Eh--huh!?)

Ellis: Kate, hold this for a moment.

Kate: Wah...!

In confusion, I received the luggage containing presents from my colleagues, and the black knife Ellis drew deflected the leading man's blade.

Ellis: It might be a little scary, but it'll be over soon.

(Eh....)

While I was speechless, he knocked out the men one after another, just as he said it would be "over soon."

It seemed that he had drawn the knife only to counter the blades, and basically, his long arms and legs were enough.

Ellis: ...Heave-ho.

He lined up the unconscious men on the roadside, and as if to finish them off, Ellis' hands touched the tops of their heads, and the wrists of the unconscious men snapped together as if in prayer.

Kate: Are you a wizard, Ellis...?

Ellis: That's the first time I've been called a wizard.

(I remember...)

--"Cursed ones" have abilities that ordinary humans don't.

Roger-san's voice echoed in my ears.

Kate: Is that... your ability, Ellis?

Ellis: Yes, it is. It's convenient not to need a rope at times like this.

Ellis smiled as if he had finished a task and came to my side, then lifted the luggage from my arms again.

Ellis: Jude is hated in many places, so he's often attacked like this.

Ellis: It was rare for him to be accompanied by a woman, so I guess they mistook you.

(Hated... I see.)

I can understand it somewhat thanks to my observation of his work during the day.

(It must be tough working at a trading company if being attacked like this is a daily occurrence.)

Ellis: ...I'm sorry.

Kate: There's no need for you to apologize, Ellis! Thank you for protecting me.

But Ellis lowered his eyebrows slightly and shook his head.

Ellis: Actually, I could have predicted this. That this might happen if I took you out.

Ellis: But... when you found out I was going to work today, you looked lonely.

Ellis: I brought you along on a whim. ...So, I'm sorry.

(Ellis...)

He said it was on a whim, but I knew more than enough that everything he did today was for me.

(Breakfast, telling me about everyone at Crown, letting me accompany him to work...)

(Maybe even taking me to the post office.)

Kate: I was happy all day today... so, there's really nothing to apologize for.

I wanted to tell him that I was grateful for his kindness, and I smiled at him.

Ellis: ...I see. That's good.

The smile that appeared on Ellis' lips was warm, like the last light of the setting sun... but perhaps because the approaching dusk was making me anxious, it strangely stirred the depths of my heart.

-

Back in my room, I opened the presents from my colleagues.

"I'm thinking of you, Kate."

"Keep in touch."

The kind words written in the letter from my colleague warmed my heart.

(I was able to receive this... thanks to Ellis taking me to the post office.)

Because Ellis tried to make me smile, I'm feeling so happy now.

I've stepped into a different world.

I can't go back to my everyday life for a month--

I was scared, but I felt like he was telling me, "It's okay."

(I feel more confident than I did this morning that I can get through this month.)

(Especially if Ellis is with me.)

-

--And the next morning, I woke up with renewed determination.

Victor: I heard, Kate. You were attacked by Jude's business rivals yesterday?

Kate: Ah, yes. But thanks to Ellis, nothing happened.

Victor: That's good, but... Miss Kate being put in danger before the contract expires--

Victor: --That means the Crown's confidential information is also at risk! Right?

Ellis: Yes.

Jude: ...I have a bad feelin' about this.

At that grumpy voice, Victor put on a big smile...

Victor: So, Jude, Ellis.

Victor: I want you two to take responsibility and become Kate's bodyguards!

(Huh!?)

Jude: Huh?

Ellis: ...Bodyguards?

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 3

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 5 - Junction

Junction (noun) 1. a place where things come together (esp. roads/railroads) 2. a place or point of meeting

Tags & Warnings: none

“And this is the en-suite bathroom! We just had a new shower installed! Not every room has it's own, so you're one of the lucky ones!”

Charlie was made of nothing but energy. Like a bouncy ball, she jumped from here to there, showing you every inch of your room with eager fervor. She seemed so excitable, happy to have someone to show around. A vast contrast to her girlfriend, who stood at the closed door of your room, arms crossed and with a sour face.

“Do you like it?”

You tried to soften your face, it wasn't a smile, but well. It was all you got.

“It's very, very nice Charlie, I appreciate it very much. Thank you.”

Charlie let out a happy giggle. Vaggie came to her side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“What exactly do you do, as Alastors assistant?”, she inquired, her tone harsh. You looked at her with an indifferent look.

“Anything he tasks me to do.” Short, simple, vague answer. Robotic, a little voice in your head whispered, and you added “I am just basically there to make his everyday life easier, is all.” Better.

“Did he hire you?”, Vaggie pressed. Charlie looked uncomfortable, her eyes darting from you to Vaggie and back.

“Of course he did. I wouldn't work for him if he didn't.”

For a few seconds, there was only silence, a staring contest. Your stoic wall of indifference against her fiery canons of indignation. Charlie, laughing nervously, and brave as she was, took a step in between you two.

“We're just a little.. surprised. Alastor never told us about an assistant. And well...”, she wrung her hands, smiling shyly, “Given his... reputation, Vaggie... we were wondering if you were really here because you wanted to.”

Your tail swished around your ankles in a fit of annoyance. “I'm here on my own volition. Alastor asked me to help, and I said yes, so you really can relax.” Not a lie, at least technically.

Charlie put a hand on Vaggies shoulder. “See, Vags, it's okay. Cool down.” She gave you an apologetic smile. “Please believe us, we are really happy to have you here. We're just.. um.. worried about you.”

You shook you head. He wasn't exaggerating when he said that they were on the edge with him. “I can assure you, I really am fine. Alastor is very kind to me.”

You could literally hear their jaws drop. Vaggie even heaved in outrage. “Kind? KIND? You got to be shitting me!”

You looked puzzled that such a simple sentence would spark this much.... reaction. Who would be this angry about such a statement? Charlie intervened quickly. “Wow. I mean... WOW. Well, that's a... word.... you don't hear often together with... Alastor. Huh. Okay. That's cool, then.” She took your hands, looking at you earnestly.

“But just in case, if you ever have something you want to talk about, or something you need help with, please, come see me... us. OUR...”, she pronounced the last word prominently, a not-so-subtle warning to her companion to calm down, “...door is always open for you. Now, we'll let you settle. See you in the foyer for dinner in about an hour?”

You thanked her again, promising you'd join them for dinner and after Charlie practically pushed a still fuming Vaggie out the door, you were alone. You rubbed your temples, breathing. The room was big, bright and very victorian-esque. Thick, cream colored brocade curtains lined the big double window overseeing Pentagram city. You've never seen a canopy bed like the one right next to it before – it looked like it was carved out of a single trunk, warm, creamy wood plushed with rich, thick red velvet and matching red curtains. You sat down. The thick mattress was soft and felt extravagant. You felt a bit lost in it. With an exasperated moan you let your back hit the soft cushions, allowing yourself to feel the delicate linens and squishy mattress, humming deeply in accordance with the comfort. This was your new home now. It felt nothing like it, but you would come to manage. You always did. The bed made it easier, enveloping you in a warm embrace, and you closed your eyes and started to finally relax. The room was quiet, except for a subtle buzzing sound. Your ears perked up and you opened your eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows while you scanned your surroundings. You found the source of the buzzing to be a single one of Alastor's shadows. You recognized him immediately, his shape and cyan eyes and maw were so distinctive. It was one of his more sentient ones, one that was one of your masters closest servants that had a habit on spying on you at nights. You sometimes heard Alastor call him Ozul. You raised a brow at him.

“You heard what was said. You can go and tell him now, everything went a-okay.”

The shadow hissed at you, not particulary aggressive, but not too friendly either, like a child blowing you a raspberry, then he disappeared. You shook your head. Great. Now you had a babysitter here too. You cracked your back and started to unpack.

Ah, how he loved the smell of the unholy trinity – he had cut up the c elery, onion and green bell pepper, and in the pot they went, together with jalapeno and a good measure of garlic. He always hummed a tune while he cooked, it evoked so many fond memories. Just when he put in the rice, some stock and crushed tomatoes, he felt something tug on his pantleg. Without moving even an inch, he looked down, lids almost closed. The kitchen was left empty, as usual when he was in there... the others were still avoiding being in a room with him for too long. Good.

„Yes, Ozul?“, Alastor asked his shadow companion, while he expertisely added seasoning. Oh, that wonderful smell of home.

Ş̷̞͂̀h̷̜͕͋̌e̵̖̊̕ ̷̛̟̈́a̵͎͐l̴͇̃̀o̵̤̳̎͛n̷͔̅e̸̩͝ ̴̄̽͜n̶͍̬̎ö̵̻̝́̀w̷̙͚̒̉.̶̢̇͘͜ ̷͙̔̔s̵̬̲͋̒h̴̑̓͜ë̷̙́́ ̴̮̓̃g̷̨̓o̸̩̿͠ǫ̷̣̑d̸̺̍ ̷̠͈̔͂ḡ̸̺̳i̵̭̤̓r̴̯̚ļ̷̤͐̽  (She alone now. She good girl)

„So, my little kitten had her first trial by fire and didn't burn herself?“, he quibbed, smiling gleefully. He wasn't surprised. Ah, how obedient she was. He would have preferred her to heed his advice of smiling, but he had sensed her rare hesitation and let this matter go for now. He could always command her, if it started to be a problem with the snoopy folks here afterall. Additionally, and he was surprised of himself, he found the thought of her smile being an exclusive right to see quite satisfying.

s̶͔͝h̵̦͋e̷̘̜̋ ̵̠̃̏ͅś̸͈̉â̷̬̗i̴̞̐d̷̬̎ ̸̳̰͝y̷̲̽o̸̙̔́ṷ̸͙̌ ̵̨̙̐̐k̶̤̯͌i̶̙͇͛n̷̝̞̿̋d̴̩͙̓͝.̶̟͍̋̍ ̴̡͂͆ǫ̴̯̑t̶̬͛h̸̘̲̆e̷͓̲͛ŗ̸͉̋s̵̢̝̑ ̵̹̮́ą̸̞̂n̴͈̋̄g̷͖̊r̸̝̒͝y,̵̞͔̑͠ ̶̫̳̂b̶̲͓̒̈́u̶̜̚t̶̠͖̽́ ̸̻̿s̵̤̈́͝h̵̙̾͛ę̵̰̀̈́ ̵̫̀ḡ̴̜̺o̸̤͊ő̵̗d̸̳̯̓̑ (She said you kind. others angry, but she good.)

Now that turned his head. She said he was kind, he thought, and couldn't help but snicker. Such an interesting girl he had, he could imagine the look of her heart-shaped face while she said that to the wary princess and her little angry companion. He heard Rosies voice ringing in his ears.

'This girl would do anything to please you.'

And how eager she was indeed, to do him right. It amazed him how he didn't even need to install fear in her to behave exactly as he wanted her to. She had promised him loyalty, and against all odds it seemed as if she would hold up to that promise. He couldn't be more satisfied. Slowly but surely, she would help improve his standing here, freeing his way to more prosperous opportunities.

í̵̘̭͗s p̵̣̍̈ṛ̸̚ȅ̵̫t̸̡͙̆t̵̮̀ŷ̸͙̚ (is pretty.)

Ozul hummed content. Alastor rose a brow at him.

l̵̡̝̃i̵̠͝k̴͍̇e̴͂̑͜s̴̹̕ ̴̦̬̿͗v̸͇͋̐o̴͔̘̿ȉ̷̪c̷̰̝͒͘ê̴̱͗,̸̢͍̅͆ ̵̗͉̇͠s̶̡̀̏͜ḧ̸̥̙́e̵̤̊̓ ̶̱̔͛m̷͕̫̒ŏ̶̠̭͛a̷̼̝͆n̵̖͛̍s̸̝̠͝ ̷͈̳̓ṕ̶̛͓ȓ̸̲ȅ̵̱͜ẗ̶̥͉́̊t̷̝͆̈y̸͙̔̽(likes voice. she moans pretty.)

He tutted. “You should better know how to behave yourself, my little fellow, or I'll have to send someone else to guard her.”

Ozul just buzzed and hummed mischievously, rushing back over the walls to her room. Alastorshook his head, a little exasperated. The bay leafs he added sunk into the stew, and bubbles popped on the surface. He covered the stew and set his pocket watch down at the counter – making a mental note to check it in twenty minutes.

As inappropriate as his little naughty shadow was, he thought for a second that he couldn't say Ozul was entirely wrong.

You had just finished to put your toiletries in the bathroom when you heard loud, obnoxious knocking on your room door. You cautiously went to open it, hand almost on the golden doorknob, when it suddenly - and violently - swung open. You had to jump back to save your toes from getting cut off.

“Heya, fellow neigbour.”

It was Angel, waltzing into your room and throwing himself on your freshly made bed with a long, lascivious sigh.

“Man, they gave you one of the good ones, lucky bitch. My room looks like a dump, compared. Well, maybe it's also because of all the toys and trash lying around, but I'm too hot to clean, 'ya know?”

He stretched himself loudly, and turned himself on his belly, facing you. His face was full of mischief.

“Can I help you, Angel?”, you asked calmly, softly shutting the door, leaving it open a bit, just in case. You hoped Ozul wouldn't barge back in here in plain sight. That would not be good.

“Ah, I just wanted to check 'ya out, calm your perky tits. Sooooo...” Angel wiggled his eyebrows. “You sure you're just an assistant to our own strawberry pimp? 'Ya never, you know... shed his antlers?”

No one would've NOT blushed at the very explicit gestures Angel made.

“A-Absolutely not.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck. Angel seemed disappointed, although he didn't give up on prying more.

“Hey, no judgment! I wouldn't blame 'ya, toots. I mean, you could fuck way worse down here. I bet 'ya good money he would be into some weird dominatrix-shit. Or a praise-kink! And he's kinda hot, if you don't mind the whole creepy dial-stare which is definately his O-face and the piss-stained teeth.” he picked on his nails, glancing at you playfully.

“Please don't talk about him like that.”, you steadied your voice, a hint of anger in it you just couldn't suppress which Angel immediately picked up. He let out a small, teasing laugh.

“Uh, kitty got claws. Okay, okay, no more dissing the deer daddy in front of his pet cat. But I'm just sayin'.”, the spider stood up, and oooooh yes, he was a spider alright. He used his four arms to push himself from your bed, ruining your hard work of smoothing the sheets out neatly. “I work in the business. And – aside these god-awful grandma-clothes, 'ya could get some fine ass down here. Those freaking eyes alone are meant for a million buck 'rail-me look'. Uuuuuh, mind if I take these? Thanks!”, he quickly grabbed two of the cookie-packs Charlie placed on a golden tray on your nightstand. “Fat Nuggets loves these.”

“Sure, I don't like raisin cookies anyway. Take all you want.”

You had a feeling it was best just to pick your battles, and cookies were definitely not it. Especially raisin cookies... And what was a Fat Nuggets?

“So... you've got the room next to mine?”

Angel sneered. “Yeah, so fair warning, if 'ya hear some 'loud noises' at night, don't come knocking, it ruins the mood.” He winked, and your treacherous ears twitched in a wave of amusement. Fucking traitors.

“I'll keep that in mind, but thanks for the warning.”

Be likable. You mentally checked to see your face was still void of any detectable expression, and added “Same goes to you, if I'll ever get some.”

Angel stared at you for a moment, mouth open in surprise, then he burst out laughing, patting you on the back.

“Oh shit, toots, you do have a little bite in ya. And here I thought you'd be as uptight and boring as your frigid boss. 'Ya know what? Tell me if 'ya ever wanna get 'ya nasty on. I'm not into chicks, but I know a few guys with really biiiiiig...”

“Please don't.”

“...Personalities.”, he gave you a grin not unlike a cheshire cat. “Anyway, gotta dip. See ya downstairs, puss-n-boobs.”

And with another laugh he was gone. You felt like at least that interaction went kind of well. You were... likable, weren't you? At least, he didn't leave mad like Vaggie or worried like Charlie, so you were pleased with that. A mocking hum made you almost jump, and you saw Ozul had indeed come back, looming in your vanity mirror. Fuck, when did he sneak in? What did he hear? You caught a glance of your face in the mirror. Your cheeks were still a little flushed from Angels lewd remarks. He was so... blunt, and absolutely no-nonsense about the idea of Alastor and you... NO! You scolded yourself for even thinking about it. That cheeky shadow buzzed, it sounded like an amused snicker.

“Oh, grow up.”

You quickly went back to the bathroom and splashed some icy water in your face. After checking your face to see the last reddish hue fade into ghostly gray, you ignored the snickering shadow and were out the door.

You skipped down the stairs – god, so many stairs, this place was in dire need of an elevator – and finally landed on the ground floor. You heard the lively sound of tableware and glasses clinking, muffled chatter, laughing and arguing. These people were so loud. It reminded you of your time in the academy. Which one was it again? The sound of people, coming together, spending time in a group, bound by a shared experience. Even as mundane as dinner. You followed the sound, but stopped when you saw the winged cat-demon, eyes sloppily closed, playing with cards at the bar. Alone. You hesitated, then you walked over.

“Go away kid, bar's closed.”, he grumbled, pulling away from you and swirling a dark, brown liquid in a glas.

“I don't want a drink. You are Husk right? I didn't get to properly introduce myself.”

His gaze went a bit darker, but he didn't stop the spiral movements of the thick, slightly dirty glas.

“No need to. I've got all I need to know about you when you came in with that piece of shit.”

He took a big gulp out of the glass, his eyes wandering away into the distance. You thought for a moment. He seemed angry at you, but you couldn't for the afterlife of you figure out why. You pulled over one of the barstools and sat down, resting your arms on the sticky bar, eyeing him curiously.

“I guess you don't like my boss very much?”

Husk huffed, growling. "No shit."

“And because I chose to work for him, you don't like me very much either?”, you inquired, tilting your head a bit, softening your face into what you thought was a understanding expression.

“If you're not one of the stupid fucks like me who made the mistake of dealing with this clown – yeah. No one in their right mind would choose to be around that bastard.”

Oh. So Husk was another soul Alastor owned. You surpressed the urge to raise a brow at that. What did happen between them, you wondered silently.

“I see.”, you finally break the silence, playing with a few of the cards splayed around the bartop. “I won't reason against that, the 'not being in the right mind'. I mean, we are in hell, right, if I was right in the head I wouldn't be here? But I don't need to be like Alastor to work with him.” You made a little house of cards. Husk glanced at you, suspiciously.

“I just want to say, I hope you can get past my job and decide, whether you just don't like my position or me as a person, is all.” You stood up, placing the stool back neatly and looking at Husk, whose eyebrows twitched, unsure what to make of your statement. “Are you coming to dinner?”

“Nah, I'm covered.”, he refilled his glass and turned away. You sighed defeated and turned towards the humming voices. That would be one hard nut to crack at another time.

***

The dining table almost bent under the weight of the food, glasses and elbows. Dinner was as chaotic as suspected. Alastor's jambalaya was delicious – as always – but you hardly ate anything. Or rather: You didn't get to eat. Every time you wanted to take a bite, someone at the table asked you a question you tried you best to answer. You wished for five minutes of peace to just eat and listen, talking felt straining. Alastor sat to your left, casually conversing with Charlie. Angel sat on your right, viciously trying to get you to laugh by telling dirty jokes or whispering stories of 'funny' accidents at his porn shoots in finest details into your ear.

“Okay Rocky, I'll get out the big guns. Do 'ya know what the difference is between kinky and perverted?“

You sighed and put down your spoon. Again. Angel quickly found his favourite nickname for you, 'Rocky', because of your stone cold expression. „No Angel. What is the difference?“

Angel giggled, „Kinky is when you tickle 'ya girlfriend with a feather, perverted is when 'ya use the whole fucking chicken!“

Angel laughed loud and slammed his fists on the table. You just rolled your eyes.

“Mh. At least that one was better than your gynecologist joke.”, you deadpanned, finally shoving some food in your mouth. Angel gasped theatrically, a hand outraged on his chest fluff.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me, at least I have a sense of humor. You wouldn't get a good joke if it danced around you wearing a cheap elephant thong.”

You quickly brushed your hair back to hide the twitch in your ears. That came close.

“Angel, that poor girl will fully loose her appetite if you continue to pester her with these filthy antics.”, Alastor smirked dangerously. Angel returned his grin, leaning a bit over the table, eyebrows suggestively high. And you sat chewing, in between them, trying to disappear into thin air. Great.

“Aw smiles. I never took you for the kind of man to get so protective over a pussy.”

You choked on your food, coughing quietly. Alastor and Angel both looked at you, Angel delighted to have some kind of success in getting a reaction from you, Alastor exasperated and almost accusatory.

“Sorry, I bit into a jalapeno.”, you mumbled and hid behind your napkin as you patted your mouth. Charlie looked at you, bemused. She sat opposite of you, her plate almost cleaned.

“So, (Y/n), do you like it here so far?”

You nodded, still feeling Alastor's eyes on you. Be likable. “I do, it's very... lively. Reminds me of my time in the Academy.”

Charlie smiled to you, encouragingly. “Oh, I've been dying to ask – what did you do when... well, when you were alive?”

You chewed your food slowly to buy some time. “I was a performer. I've studied musical theater at the Academy, but never made big shows after graduating.”

Charlie was over the moon, bulldozing you with a million questions at once. Vaggie glared at you, her eyes narrowed. “So, you were an actress?” You didn't need to catch on, her thinly veiled accusation of you putting on an act was heard loud and clear. And by the static that bristled on your left, Alastor heard it too. You calmly gathered the rest of your Jambalaya on your spoon, ignoring her stare.

“More or less. Acting, singing, dancing. I've always liked the combination of all elements. After graduating, I stuck mostly to sing and dance though.”

Angel snorted. “No wonder you didn't make it, toots. Do you even have another look other than 'lobotomized'?”

“Angel!”, Charlie scolded, feeling very offended for you.

“What?! Look at her. All she does is this!”, he did a poor imitation of your expressionless face. He teasingly poked your side. “Maybe she just needs a really good shag to pull that frown upside down.” You felt Alastor's static prickling slipping through your clothes and all over your skin. He was getting really agitated. Shit. Be likable. What would someone like Angel find likeable and end this conversation?

“Well, Angel, if one good shag would make anyone smile, you should look like my boss by now.“

The whole table started giggling as Angel playfully protested, even Vaggies lips twitched, though she quickly turned her head. You heard a low chuckle from your left, out of the corner of your eyes you saw Alastors smile widen and his features relaxing. A sign of approval. You felt better.

The radio demon had also finished his meal and conjured a crystal decanter and a matching glass, sipping on something that looked like whiskey. You stood up and took the chance to flee further conversation, offering Niffty to help with clearing the table and washing the dishes. One by one, the others left after saying good night. Angel winked at you as he went back to his room. He was abrasively raunchy, yes, but aside that it felt like he would be a generally a nice, funny person to be around. Charlie gave you a warm smile before retreating to bed, and even Vaggie, although still frowning at you, nodded and wished you a somewhat-friendly good nights rest. The last to go was Niffty, enthusiastically thanking you for helping her clean before she jumped out of the dining room chasing after some rouge bugs, leaving you and Alastor alone.

“I've heard you steered the wild waters today quite smoothly, my dear.”, Alastor smiled in satisfaction, toasting to you. Your tail swished nervously. “I must say I expected nothing less from you. Good girl.”

His last words made your cheeks feel instantaneously hot and you quickly turned to the kitchenette to grab a bowl. “Thank you, sir.” Get a grip, (Y/n), Angel just got you in a really weird head space. “Alastor, dear. I think you've made very good progress with the princess, but I'm even more surprised our only guest seems to take a special liking to you.”

“I think Angel just finds it's funny to try and make me blush.”, you murmured, scooping some leftover jambalaya into the bowl.

“Yes, his sense of humor can be quite... obstreperous.”, he hummed, running a long finger on the rim of his now empty glass while intensely watching you, a subtle curl on his lips. “I sincerely hope you don't plan on taking him up on his offer, dear – I know for a fact he has a rather miserable taste in potential partners.”

You almost cut your hand off with the serrated knife you held as you cut a thick slice of cornbread. That fucking tattletale of a shadow.

“I most certainly will NOT.”

“Glad to hear that, kitten.” With a swish of his hand, he vanished the remaining cluttered dishes, the decanter and the glasses, leaving the kitchen and table sparkling. The deer demon swaggered over to you – thank god your face cooled down by now, and he leaned over your shoulder, eyeing the meal in your hands. He was oddly close. And warm. “Ah, darling, I'm happy to see that my mothers recipes never fail to impress. Are you planning on having a little midnight snack?”

“That's not for me.” You left him standing, looking very impish yourself and Alastor thought he could have even seen the hint of a smile tucking on your lips. With intrigued suspicion he watched you walk through the small corridor with the meal in your hands, melting into his shadows and attaching himself on your own to follow you unseen.

The sound of your clicking heels, not much unlike your masters, echoed in the now sinister looking, empty foyer, startling Husk awake from his alcohol-induced doze. He looked up through glossy, dark eyes, grumbling something about 'fucking loud-ass shoes' but shut up when you placed the portion you had prepared in front of him on the counter.

“In case you want to give your liver some well-deserved rest. It's still warm, and the corn bread is really tasty. Good night, Husk.”

You didn't wait for his reaction, or reply. Alastor's shadow detached from yours with a giddy fizz and scurried away. When you reached the staircase, you could hear the satisfying sound of cutlery against porcelain. One step at a time.

“Listen, Vaggie, I hear you. But (Y/n) hasn't even been here a day, and she's given us no reason to be so... distrustful.” “Hon. I love that you see only the good and nice in people, I do. But I don't want that to be a weakness they can exploit.”

He listened closely, hidden in the shadows of the corridor. Such a stroke of luck, but he had always had a habit on being in the right place at the right time. This conversation was definitely not intended for his ears.

“Well I refuse to judge her before I even got to really know her. You try to look out for me, for the hotel, and that's like....great. But we need to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“I don't have a good feeling about her, Charlie... Even if she is not a bad person per se, if that asshole is using her...” “Then we'll show her compassion and we will help her, not throw her out. Alastor may be the radio demon, but I'm not a nobody. If she is really being used, we can show her that we all be there for her and protect her. 'Killing with kindness', you know that's what I'm best at.”

“I know, I know, you are right... Just... we need to be careful.”

The room became quiet, and Alastor had no intention to linger. He heard what he needed to hear and soundlessly vanished, flowing into his shadows and into his own room.

The little exchange was indeed interesting. He wasn't surprised at all about Vaggie's apprehension of his little doll, and Charlies naive sense of benevolence in her defense. No, no, no, that was to be expected. What was out of the ordinary was the comical belief that they could turn (Y/n) against him. Ah, such simple minds they had, he thought bemused. He did good on keeping the deal with her a secret. They would've been much more hostile if they knew about the circumstances. He took off his overcoat and hung it up his coat rack. He sat down in his armchair by the fire, watching over to his conjured swamp. Fireflies illuminated the bayou in a soft green and yellow light. It never failed to calm him, looking over the shimmering water, listening to the soft rustle of the cattails. He closed his eyes and smelled the damp and musky scents. Fatigue crept into his limbs, heavier and more intense than usual. Maybe, he thought, his body could allow itself to sacrifice a part of this night for a little sleep. But his mind was as busy and restless as always, and he supposed he would have to settle for just this small moment of tranquility. A soft knock on the door pulled him back to the present. He glanced at his wall clock. It was almost midnight. He sighed and walked over to the door. Whoever it was that disturbed him now, they'd better have a good reason. He opened his room to two golden eyes, shifting in colors of the rainbow by the firelight.

“Why kitten, what brings you to my humble abode at this unholy time?”

He tilted his head, surprised to see her - She had never visited his room at night. His gaze wandered to her black satin dressing gown – Rosie insisted on gifting it to her - loosely thrown over a simple, cream-colored leisure suit. She wore her hair down as if she had already gotten ready for her night's rest. A steaming mug rested in her hands, it smelled like vanilla, honey and lavender.

“I'm sorry to intrude this late.”, she spoke softly, almost a whisper. “I came to bring you this...”

She reached into the pocket of her gown, pulling out something round and golden and familiar. His pocket watch. His eyes widened.

“I went down into the kitchen to get a glass of water and found it hidden behind the fruit bowl. I was sure it was yours, so I wanted to return it to you right away.”

His hand reached out and brushed her delicate fingers as he retrieved his possession. He hadn't even noticed it wasn't in it's usual pocket in his overcoat. He must have forgotten to put it back after he had finished cooking. He felt a bit annoyed at his own negligence. He really should get some sleep....

“It is indeed mine, and very precious to me. How very thoughtful of you, my dear.”

She just nodded, a gesture that had become so common to her. Then she held out the cup to him.

“You looked a bit weary today, so... I made a cup of hot milk for you. To sleep better.”

There were only a few times in his hellish life Alastor could recall that he had been caught off guard. This was one of them. Fortunately, one strength of his was his unfaltering smile, he was trained in keeping his impulsive emotions under control. But underneath this familiar mask he stared at the small, weak servant of his, her arm patiently streched out to him, in absolute astonishment. He carefully took the cup from her. It was piping hot. Freshly made.

“I'll leave you to rest now. Good night, Alastor.” “Sleep tight, kitten.”

And with that, she turned on her heels and quickly blended with the darkness of the corridor. He closed the door slowly when her footsteps became only an echo, and looked at the beverage in his hands. His shoulders shook, and finally, he allowed himself to laugh. His shadows swirled and purred, startled by the bellowing laughter of their master. When he sat back down by the fire, he still chuckled. He brought the cup to his lips, savoring the creamy, subtly sweet taste. Poor, poor naive princess. She would do better to prepare herself for bitter disappointment. This girl was his.

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