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mixtapedoh · 3 months

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and it was all yellow | y.j.

welcome back to SVTU ! lost your way? refer to our campus map for directions.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader with guest appearances from c. seungcheol, h. joshua, w. junhui, and more !

word count: ~5.9k genre: neighbors to friends to lovers warnings: language, intermittent Lore Dumping™ (i have to kick us off into svtu somehow), jeonghan is a little shit, light suggestive themes (heavily lampshaded and perhaps only occuring twice?)

☄. *. ⋆

olive's notes: these individual headcanon sets are going to be very ~stream of consciousness~, so bear with me, here. second, cheol and jeonghan are brothers (and there's a secret third brother i'll introduce eventually, don't you worry), also, thank you for stopping by <3. now here's the content you signed up for.

☄. *. ⋆

now playing... ılı.lıllılı.ıllı. ... ⌜ angel baby — troye sivan ⌟

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW ☄. *. ⋆

— it all started when jeonghan realized that jun was loaded.

now, don't get him wrong. it wasn't as though he had befriended jun because jeonghan had been looking for someone rich and easily persuaded. it's not like jeonghan used his ineffable charm to win over the quasi-cryptid that was wen junhui because of jun's apparent legacy funds.

not that jeonghan couldn't have done — he clearly had the persuasion and cunning to do it — he just didn't. jeonghan wasn't in need of someone else's money. please. he was very capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much, he was just also, however, very good at knowing things.

especially those things that could be used to his advantage.

— and well... wen junhui was loaded. wealthy as shit. a classic trust fund baby. a walking dollar sign that just so happened to share classes with jeonghan every year since he started SVTU as a political science major (of arts, of course. he hadn't taken latin in high school to not absolutely crush the romance languages in uni).

— you see, SVTU had this fun little program for long-suffering students interested in the government and manipulating it to their will wherein if you took merger courses — lectures that ate up a hell of a lot of your time and money but gave substantial credit hours that counted for both applied and allied course credit — you could get a jump start on your degree, be offered more opportunities for internship, and explore a subject's "many facets" through "multiple lenses."

to jeonghan, it meant working faster and harder so that he might graduate early and get into the actual politics of pol sci quicker — at a more “genius” and “revolutionary” age.

(half of politics, after all, was being appealing enough to make headlines. there wasn’t time to waste, in the long run.)

to wen junhui it had to mean something different — after all, jun was a pre-law student with a completely different career path from the other party involved (though jeonghan had considered law at one point in time — something he’s not above admitting though certainly not pining after). merger courses for him likely meant an expedited process to law school. but that was truly beside the point. an aside.

— what mattered in the end, was that jeonghan and jun had more than enough shared merger courses to go around, and in the process of things, had gone from strangers to acquaintances, then study partners (blame it on the fact that jun — the altruistic leaning bastard he was — actually tutored in his free time. willingly. as in, not a joke.) to committed group project members, and eventually to that nebulous thing called friendship.

ask them both when that final stage commenced and you’d get varying responses — jeonghan always far more generous than jun in such regards, but almost annoyingly so, like he wanted to be the one leaning more on the ridiculous.

— yes, it was quite a ways into their friendship when jeonghan learned that wen junhui, his sweet jun, was loaded. like, living alone off of campus in his own two bedroom apartment on the wealthy side of the city that prospered from the University Living Aesthetic™, loaded. as in, so loaded he could have easily found more than enough willing bodies to become roommates with him and help pay for the exorbitant expenses but simply decided against it because he hadn’t, and i quote “thought about it before.”

“never thought about it? jun. how much does this place cost?”

and jun had to think for a minute. genuinely think about how much he paid in monthly rent. “i suppose for a month’s rent i pay around… [REDACTED].”

and jeonghan was no stranger to dramatics, to be sure, but anyone else would have gaped the same as him. “[REDACTED]??”

"[REDACTED]."

"...shit."

— yes, jeonghan finding out that jun was loaded, living in a (rather well kept) apartment with an empty room, no roommates, and an assortment of (dying) houseplants that needed care, was truly the beginning of it all.

— after all, while the chaos settled in a year after the fact when he and joshua would finally move in with jun because of circumstances that aren't truly relevant to the here and now, all true origins start a little before dramatic changes. there's always a gentle precursor, something soft that sets the stage. rumblings of change are necessary forefathers to the strength of revolution; jeonghan learning that jun was a walking line of credit with property to his name and a work ethic that would make any professor blush was necessary groundwork for the events that would follow.

and goddamn, if things didn't follow.

— but i suppose, if we're back tracking all the way to jeonghan and shua moving in with jun on one very ill timed sunday (jun had an exam in his special topics in deviance, crime, & the law course the next day), we are also brushing up against jeonghan meeting you.

another precursor to the chaos that would follow. another tremor that would shake the ground and cause things to tumble.

— you also lived in the terraces on 17th and attended svtu. you lived on the same floor as jun — two apartments down from his, no less — and his first week there, you showed jeonghan the campus shuttle routes that passed right outside the complex (he'd come to learn that the domino route was the one you took most often, as it led right to the heart of the university, but the pinwheel route was also a convenient option for evening courses).

— you and jeonghan weren't friends right away. no, you were always a friendly face around the complex and a decent conversationalist when stuck in the elevator together, but it wasn't as though you and jeonghan became fast friends. you were just neighbors for a while; just another person grabbing mail on monday afternoons, stopping at the in-residence coffee shop on bleak wednesday mornings, ordering pizza on saturday evenings and giving joshua a slice after he weaponizes his big, brown eyes.

— and then came The Series of Fire Alarm Mishaps.

— you see, at some point in the middle of the semester, someone new moved into the apartment building, in the same hall as you and jeonghan. at first, you barely even noticed the change, and then they started cooking.

— which wouldn't have been a problem. if they had been good at it.

the first few times the (incredibly loud and not unreasonably sensitive) fire alarms from down the hall had gone off, it had been unfortunate - a mild nuisance that disrupted what jeonghan had been doing, and nothing more. but then, the first few times became multiple, and from multiple, came a pattern. every other day, at least twice, the fire alarm next door would go off. and it would always be at different times - breakfast, the afternoon, early evening, even sometimes at 1:28 in the morning. the fire alarm would sound, and while it would mostly be no longer than a minute or two, it was still enough to be irritating.

you and jeonghan talked about it every time you saw each other in passing, or just so happened to be taking the same shuttle to campus (which happened quite often, anymore, since jeonghan enrolled in an extra course to help him graduate all the sooner). your neighbor and that damn fire alarm. your neighbor and their inability to cook, yet unnecessary dedication to the craft. you both joked about the inevitability of them actually burning the apartment down.

— and then, one day, the fire alarm went off at 2:19, waking jeonghan up out of a dead sleep (he hadn't meant to fall asleep at his desk, and his neck would pay for it all the next day). he heard it, and immediately decided to ignore it, knowing it would stop soon.

but then it didn't.

at about 3.5 minutes of non-stop alarms, jeonghan was annoyed enough that he left his room and staggered into the kitchen for some water, where shua and jun were already waiting around, likely with the same idea (though it was clear that shua hadn't ever fallen asleep, and perhaps jun was in the same boat, though he'd changed into sweats and a light t-shirt).

at about 6 minutes, jeonghan opened the door to see if anyone else was, well... concerned.

and at 13 minutes, he was standing outside in the brisk autumn air, agreeing with jun as he whispered that if there wasn't an actual fire but just their talentless neighbor attempting to cook in the middle of the night, he was going to kill the bastard himself.

— and there, in the middle of all this stupidity — sleepily rocking back and forth from one foot to another — and on the other side of him, was you.

— and, well, when you offered to buy him and the rest of his roommates coffee at the convenience store that was just down the street, not far, he couldn't do much beyond say yes. what was he going to do? decline your offer?

and so all four of you walked to the convenience store and aimlessly wound your way through the almost neon colored aisles. jeonghan used the opportunity to stick to you like glue and get you to open up — about yourself and your roommates, both of whom had gone home for two weeks for (separate) family vacations (not that you were jealous. clearly the superior option was to stay at the apartment, embroiled in course work and standing outside at 2:00 am because of some loser neighbor who can't cook a singular meal without burning the building to the ground, and yet refuses to have anything delivered).

— in the end, the fire hadn't been bigger than something contained in the pan ("thank god," you had said, shaking your hands in lackluster triumph, "i have a physics exam next week. i need those notes more than you know"), but at only 4 months of having a new neighbor, someone new moved in within 2 weeks at most. and, after being neighbors for almost 7 months, you and jeonghan were decidedly friends.

after all, you bought him a triangular gimbap, ice cream, and convenience store coffee. jun had slipped away with just a banana milk (which he promptly paid back the next day), and shua nearly bought out the whole store once the two of you got to talking about the best midnight (and hours after) snacks lining the walls. at the least, he was indebted to you, which could only be solved by more trips to the convenience store with more mindless conversation, and more time for the both of you to endear yourself to the other.

and the way jeonghan saw it, friendship at that point was inevitable. especially when, at the start of the next semester, you and jeonghan both had an early morning class and used the domino route to get to class via campus shuttle.

(and sure, jun had an early class, too, and drove himself to campus everyday, meaning jeonghan could have easily just gotten a ride, but he didn't. for no particular reason, really, he just never did; but one frost bitten morning after a snowstorm, when jeonghan was waiting at the shuttle stop and you stood beside him, bundled up in a thick winter coat and rubbing the tips of your fingers to keep them warm, you turned to him, the cord of the wired headphones the both of you always shared swaying from the movement (a streak of yellow against all this white, the sun in the middle of stark winter), and smiled, "i'm glad you're here with me." and maybe — just maybe — that was reason enough.)

— and thus, for reasons above explained, in the end, it all started with jeonghan learning jun was loaded. if it weren't for that simple knowledge, he wouldn't be anywhere near where he currently stood.

— which was the open doorway of jun's apartment, garbage in hand, falling in love with you.

"what?"

and you at least had the presence of mind to be flustered by it.

jeonghan could laugh, really. "is that my jacket?"

it totally was, and perhaps the way you fiddled with the sleeve of it and scoffed awkwardly, refusing to meet his eyes, was the true giveaway that you knew it most certainly was. "i don't know, is it?"

you were met with smug silence, so of course, you'd elaborate.

"i thought it belonged to my ex. i just chose what looked the warmest. it's storming out there — you might want something more than a sweatshirt if you're taking that all the way to cans." you gestured to the garbage bag — a detail jeonghan had almost forgotten at the sight of you in his clothing.

"you think your ex would have bought that?"

of course he wasn't going to take your bait in changing the subject. that would make things easy. you rolled your eyes, spinning your key ring and making it jingle. "hoseok has great style. it's just different from yours."

"and that jacket is more my style than his."

"it is," you conceded. under jeonghan's gaze you stuck one half of the jacket out, towards him. "do you want it now? you'll need it out there."

"i don't think i will. not when i'll have your sunny presence to warm me."

and for a split second your eyes narrowed. you had just come in from the storm — that much was plain to see from the wet of the jacket to the reusable grocery bag in your hand, full of pantry odds and ends. there was no need to go back out, and you and jeonghan both knew it. and not to mention that the invitation (thinly veiled) was unattractive — stay inside where it was warm or brave the stormy weather once more, all for a garbage run?

"race you to the elevator."

— and see, the truth of the fact was, it wasn't as though you made it difficult to fall in love with you (though even if you had, jeonghan would have liked the challenge, perhaps. there's fun in plenty of things). you were generous, a good conversationalist, you bitched about people with jeonghan but still tried to see the best in them, you were knowledgeable about the most random yet oddly applicable things, and for all of his teasing, you put up with him. perhaps enjoyed him.

— it certainly confused seungcheol, to say the least (but don't such things always confuse brothers).

"as someone who's had a lifetime to cherish your personality, there has to be something wrong with this y/n if they're willingly spending time with you. i'm trying to save my soul, putting up with you on the daily. they have no excuse."

"if i'm going to respond to that, you'll have to give me five minutes to run first."

and it ended with jeonghan quickly pushing away from the table, trying to duck out of seungcheol's grasp; but of course, the older brother and president of the boxing club would get him anyway, and through laughter, attempt to knock some humility into jeonghan (it wouldn't stick).

— but no need to focus on all of that, now. after all, this deep into the semester, jeonghan was busy enough without Crippling Thoughts of Romance.

— the worst damage you wrought thus far was making him choke that day you wandered into karaoke club and he was in the middle of a duet joshuji had managed to cajole him into doing on the spot (you swore up and down that you didn't know he was even in the club to begin with, but something about your flustered behavior and shua's glee at the whole affair made him consider otherwise); while it had been a (minor, he claimed) blow to his pride, it was easily pushed aside. jihoon, the bastard, might bring it up on occasion — the one (1) time angel voice yoon jeonghan chokes, and it's all on camera — but other than that, jeonghan? cool as a cucumber.

the last thing he'd do is be awkward around a crush. jeonghan was cool; jeonghan was suave; jeonghan was speaking in the third person because joshuji had been on a self-love bender a few months back and had said daily affirmations into the mirror every morning, and after finding out and teasing him relentlessly for it, jeonghan unfortunately picked up the habit.

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW (CONT.) ☄. *. ⋆

— and now that we've gotten this far, i suppose it's time we bring up Jeonghan Habits™ because there were many, the closer you and jeonghan got to each other, strings of fate drawing you ever nearer, joining you at the hip.

— for one, it seemed that ever since that first unfortunately timed run to the convenience store at hours after-midnight, jeonghan felt comfortable just showing up at all odd hours of the evening, all messy hair and too-big hooded sweatshirts (most stolen from seungcheol, he'd reveal to you one day when you were confused as to just when jeonghan had picked up a love of coton de tulear puppy conventions — enough to get a commemoriative sweatshirt, no less), with the oh-so-enticing offer of going to grab a snack.

he even called it a date, once, when you were wrapped up in three blankets and your fuzzy house slippers, weakly try to convince him to just rummage through you're cupboards instead

"you're so cold you're going to cancel our date? and here i thought we had something real."

(you'd been so flustered by the whole exchange you simply ended up going to the with him, hoping that the act of Just Doing It would buy you time against his rapid fire machine gun comebacks — probably exactly what the fucker had planned in his 4d chessboard of a brain — and jeonghan took the opportunity to file away in his mind the cute expression that crossed your face in the split second that the words hit you fully in the chest and you floundered, wide-eyed into recovery)

— another, of course, was his habit of casually leaving things at your place whenever the two of you hung out; the first few times he left something — his jacket, a pair of sunglasses, necklaces that you don't ever quite recall him taking off to begin with — you promptly returned it with the naive belief that it was a one-off mistake not like to happen again. but it just kept happening, and so eventually, you just stopped returning.

if it were important, jeonghan would have texted you about it — he texted you about all kinds of random things, anyway, his lost socks would be no more strange than texts of ootds or how particularly sparkly his eyes looked that day.

and he never did...

until you started to wear the things he left, of course.

'should i get two of these?' the text came in while you were walking to your next class, taking your sweet time since the weather had cleared up nicely and the campus shuttles were running smoothly — not a single one hand been late all week, a sure change from usual. a moment later your phone chimed again, and jeonghan had sent a picture of a silver ring with a greek key styling. it was cool enough, and fit in nicely with jeonghan's usual style of accessory (not that you were particularly knowledgeable of such things... haha.)

'sure, but why 2?'

'so you can have one of your own instead of stealing it.'

'???!?'

'look at your outfit right now. you're wearing MY necklace. it's been missing for weeks.'

'YOU LEFT IT AT *MY* APARTMENT??????'

'you still have necklaces of your own; didn't have to be mine.'

'😑'

'so what's your ring size?'

'stfu'

— in your defense, you didn't think it was an issue, borrowing the things he'd randomly leave at your apartment. it had started off innocuously enough — seonghwa and momo (your roommates, bless them) needed you to go grab a few last minute ingredients for dinner (they were the ones cooking, so charitably you offered to do the grunt work) and when you couldn't find your own sunglasses, there were jeonghan's, just sitting on your dresser and waiting to be used.

and after that, well... jeonghan had nice style, okay? you were not immune to convenient and accessible clothing. if jeonghan wasn't so forgetful of his own articles of clothing, it wouldn't be the case that you steal his favorite sunglasses and borrow his usual rings and get a little too caught up in the way his cologne lingers on his jackets and night shirts, a smell all-too comforting and somehow tempting...

— you attempted to give the necklace back later that week when you and jeonghan met up to take the domino route to university, but he just shrugged it off and told you that you might as well keep it. he already bought himself another.

and besides. it looked good on you.

— and as for the last of Jeonghan's Habits™ (certified and trademarked, of course, everything jeonghan did was protected by common law)... well... the discovery of this one came later, at a time you weren't expecting it, and so perhaps that explains why it makes you as flustered as it does.

— see, it's of no surprise that yoon jeonghan is clingy in a very positive sense.

being friends with jeonghan is always being kept in the loop, having an ongoing dialogue about most everything, doing lot of Things together and always knowing that if there's something you're even thinking of doing, jeonghan has already cleared his schedule in anticipation of going to do said thing alongside you.

— what surprised you, but really shouldn't have (so perhaps the right word is simply astonished, flustered, made giddy by the realization of), was that he was also very cuddly. and very hard to be talked out of, no less.

— and like, okay, sure, it was kind of hypocritical of you to be taken aback when you'd been indulging jeonghan of his affinity for physical touch for quite some time, now.

the surprise hugs whenever he caught you waiting for the campus shuttle or simply Minding Your Own Business, his inclination towards taking your hand to make you walk a little faster when the two of you were going convenience store diving (yes, again), the quite literal poking and prodding whenever he was attempting to get you to change your mind and agree with his worst impulses... it was all pretty damning, in retrospect. but it never really fazed you: jeonghan's cuddly sort of behavior.

though you had gotten a smug kind of glee whenever you initiated contact and jeonghan's cheeks would warm to a beautiful shade of pink before he'd counter his own seeming embarrassment with a comment like "aaahhhh y/n, you're so familiar, what would others think if they saw you?"

randomly touch jeonghan's forearm, whether to pull him closer for some reason or another or just to softly massage the skin while you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone (instagram scrolling was sacred time you and jeonghan shared — then you didn't have to send him the reel with your comments, you could just tap him on the shoulder and show him). they way jeonghan would get all shy at the touch — like maybe he felt some of those butterflies that perpetually fluttered about in your stomach whenever he was around — was all the satisfaction you could ever need.

— so yes, you were quite used to clingy jeonghan. but cuddly? you had never quite strayed into full cuddle territory... until you did.

— that fateful night, you had lovingly been given notice via a very abrupt group text that you would not be able to return to your apartment for the evening (someone was going to have company over, doing... things that familiar company do) and when you had told jeonghan of your plans to join seonghwa in his trip to the computer rooms at crescent hub (they were open 24 hours and while it was based on reservation, you were almost always able to get a seat), he offered you come to his apartment instead.

either that, or i guess you could spend your time watching the gaming club host whatever tournament they had going on — apparently jun was planning to be gone for Quite Some Time (as a senior member of the club) and shua was there... for moral support? that part was unclear, to be quite honest, but it wasn't as though shua ever needed a reason to be Busy and Outgoing, so it didn't quite matter much, in the end.

"why aren't you at crescent hub with your roommates, then?"

"and encourage them? ah... don't make me look soft."

and you're sure that the way you roll your eyes can be heard through the phone.

"i had an assignment to finish." / "you had work to finish."

"but! it's all been submitted now."

"then i'll meet you."

— after all, it's not like you were a stranger to jun's apartment — you'd hung out there plenty of times as your bond with jeonghan deepened and your friendship to shua and jun grew — and they did have a rather comfy couch... you were almost certain jeonghan's offer implied and unspoken 'you can at least get some comfortable sleep on our vertiable cloud of a couch when i'm done prying at the finer details as to just who momo decided to bring home.'

you both, after all, had a deep-seeded delight for gossip.

— and when you got there, it was exactly what you expected: jeonghan had seemingly raided the pantry finding ingredients so the two of you could make dakdoritang — excepting the carrot, of course.

despite his seeming love for convenience store runs and general lazy attitude toward preparing his own meals, cooking together seemed to be something jeonghan enjoyed lately — or at least, that's what you surmised. to you, it seemed that one day jeonghan woke up and chose cooking as a new hobby.

if you were to ask jeonghan, he would brush it off, of course, probably saying something about his mom visiting and praising jun's affinity for cooking and there was no way jeonghan could let the bastard win — but really all it had taken was one (1) absentminded hand on his chest from you and a "hannie, can you pass me the garlic cloves?" for him to make cooking with you a new personality trait of his. go figure.

— and so the two of you made your stew while debating which movie you should watch when you were done. you ended up compromising on some drama that you'd seen people claim was so bad it was good, and it really was. the cringe,,,, the mutual yelling at the tv,,,,,,, threatening the lives of fictional characters,,,,,,, talking over whole dialogue scenes because you had a brilliant rewrite in mind and jeonghan simply couldn't resist the way you looked when there was an earnestness in your eyes and an opinion on your lips,,,,

it was quite late, indeed, before you even knew it. and when you switched the tv to a music video you really wanted to show jeonghan, the autoplay sort of took over, and your mind sort of shut down... drifted off to sleep.

— you woke up at some point in the early morning; the sound of the lock clicking and the door opening wasn't the sound you were used to, in your apartment two doors down, and it was just enough to snap you awake momentarily, still half in dream yet with one foot in reality.

it was just shua and jun, and they whispered an apology before padding off to their respective rooms (jun his own, shua his shared room with hannie), clearly worn out from their gaming activities.

— but that little push to semi-wakefulness was just enough for you to take stock of where you were, and you noticed belatedly that jeonghan had never left to go back to his room. you were both sleeping on the couch, legs intertwined; jeonghan was resting his head on your shoulder and your hands were reaching out, as if almost to give him a subconscious hug.

— the embarrassment ran through your nervous system almost instantly, and when you made to slowly and gently move your limbs so you were less... interwoven, jeonghan stirred and, still sleeping, pulled you back towards him. perhaps even closer than before.

you couldn't help yourself. a giggle escaped you; perhaps half nerves, mostly endearment. jeonghan stirred again and the sound and you covered your mouth, not wanting to wake him.

he stilled soon enough, and before drifting off again, you kissed him on the forehead.

— when you fully woke up the next morning, jeonghan had already began his day, but he didn't even try to hide the fact that the both of you had unwittingly unlocked a new feature in this friendship of yours. he sort of just... took the night prior as a confirmation that cuddling was on the list of approved actions and refused to let go of you, after.

not that it bothered you, of course.

it just seemed that the butterflies in your stomach were given wild energy at this new development; all your strategies for calming them suddenly ineffective.

AND IT WAS ALL YELLOW (CONT.) ☄. *. ⋆

— so.

if you had asked jeonghan at any point in his life if he were good at manipulating, his answer would be an unequivocable yes.

deceit? of course.

scheming? obviously.

lying? naturally.

blackmailing? most assuredly.

gaslighting, gatekeeping, girlbossing? undoubtedly.

changing criteria? yes.

moving goalposts? clearly.

hiding the apparent? well...

— see, the thing is... you get so good at the others that concealing the obvious isn't exactly necessary. everyone might know to be wary of the scheming, cheating, self-serving yoon jeonghan, but it didn't change the fact that he was so astute at the rest of it, image didn't exactly matter.

and besides, why save face when it was so fun to see people accuse him of what they were all very aware?

— so yes, jeonghan was quite skilled at all manner of deception. the one facet he was not so adept in was hiding his feelings toward the matter.

— thus, it should be no surprise that everyone and their mother knew jeonghan had a crush.

and it was only getting worse.

— don't ask jun when he put the dots together — he was more emotionally intellectual than he let on most of the time — and don't ask joshuji when either — that fucker had this quirk where he joked about something before it had real honest basis, but in some way only attributed to the gift of clairvoyance, he always seemed to be right. if you were to ask joshua, he'd likely recall the first time he had looked at jeonghan and wiggled his eyebrows and call that he knew then (he didn't; at least, not really).

— as for s.coups... well, don't ever ask cheol anything about jeonghan. he'd rather die than give it to you straight.

please. when he could embarrass jeonghan? seungcheol lives for that shit.

after all, what else are older brothers for?

— so yes, it was obvious to those close to him that jeonghan was in the long-suffering limbo of Having A Thing For Your Best Friend But Not Acting On It, and it had been apparent for months.

— after all, it felt like centuries ago that joshua had offered to play matchmaker for jeonghan and you — the veritable apple of his eye — and set the two of you up on a date.

it had been some lazy morning and jun nearly spit out his breakfast.

"you'd both love it! i'd get jihoon to play something romantic on the violin; well, maybe recorder—"

cue jun choking once more.

"and you could be there waiting in full suit and tie."

"with couples rings waiting in the bread basket." and joshua's eyes went comically and maniacally wide at jun's inclusion.

"ah, cheol would crash any date like that."

"but then y/n could get his blessing!"

— at some point, jun was at his wits end.

in his defense, it was him who had to see the two of you be all sweet and love-struck all the time, giggling and teasing each other on his couch in his apartment while all he's trying to do is eat a sorry excuse of a subway sandwich (eat fresh.) before jetting off to his internship again.

if you had to see that shit while eating soggy bread you'd be annoyed, too.

one more "aigoooo" while jeonghan squishes your cheeks, and you bat him away with a roll of your eyes and jun would take a knife out of the block behind him.

— especially when jeonghan started calling you "angel" at every chance he got. had jun's eye twitching, it did. never had he regretted getting roommates until jeonghan fell in love.

one day jun learned that the phrase "get a room" made at least one of you self conscious enough to at least tone it down, and he never stopped weaponizing it, since.

— of course, overtime jun's protests became background noise, but once, when your roommates and jeonghan's all went to the museum of fine arts together to celebrate the end of finals week (it was free admission so long as you had your svtu activities card), jun had deadpanned his new favorite phrase in the middle of the outdoor conversation area. jeonghan had turned to you grinning, like it was the excuse he'd been waiting for all day, and after a lighthearted "shall we?" you grabbed his hand and the two of you pranced off to explore the sculpture terrace.

jeonghan had raised an eyebrow at your choice of exhibit, but you pulled him over to a sculpture of a human figure with black wings and flashed a smile: “it’s not a private room, but i think it works.”

“if you’d prefer it, i’m sure there’s a custodial closet we could go to instead. i bet there's one right outside, even.”

you snorted. “and if i did kiss you? what would you do then?"

— you stunned him into silence. him. yoon jeonghan.

— right as he was about to recover and shoot back some smartass comment, you laughed — the sound clear and playful, bright and radiating with warmth — and then you wandered to where they showcased student work.

— umm... uhhh... WHATTHEFUCKWEREYOUDOING WHATTHEFUCKWASGOINGONNNNNN

“angel.”

you hummed absentmindedly, only half hearing jeonghan through the internal screaming reverberating in your skull.

“y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”

he was closer now, if you focused, you were sure you could feel him, inching closer, right behind you, just to your right…

— he kissed your cheek: half on the corner of your lips, half on the soft of your skin.

— you couldn’t help yourself. you turned.

“if you were bold enough to kiss me here, i’d kiss you back. then i’d be scandalized, ‘how forward!’”

your mouth opened: in shock, in delight, in laughter, in a heavenly mix of the three. jeonghan just stood there, all self-satisfied grin.

“you could waste your time finding a comeback, or you could be forward.”

“i think i have time for both.”

☄. *. ⋆

end of file .

SVT (sophrosyne; virtù; truth) University hopes you've enjoyed your stay !

#writing.svtu #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #svt imagine #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan imagine #yoon jeonghan x reader #still in that limbo of not knowing how to tag things but fuck it we ball ✌︎#if you want more svtu!jeonghan feel free to send in asks!!!!#honestly svtu has been eating at my brain for so long i have NOTES for this universe i'm so full of this story you could ask me any minute #detail and i probably have Reasons and Thoughts for it #all at once i had more planned for this headcanon set and yet nothing to add so we'll see what i end up doing with this headcanon set #also i think this reader deserves to have poodle jeonghan too that hairstyle lives rent free

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dont-offend-the-bees · 2 months

Text

Though We're Strangers 'Til Now

And now for something completely different! Now I want you guys to do me a favour here, and I need you to picture this fic as having like, a BBC Saturday night family show budget. I’m specifically talking Atlantis, but if you’ve not seen Atlantis (like most people), think Merlin. I wrote Edwin and Charles’ voices entirely as I’d write them in canon-verse, with nearly no regard to the fact I was transplanting them into ancient Greece, so it’s VERY important to me that you embrace the Camp. This is a styrofoam dungeon. Charles is about to meet his destiny in a labyrinth that’s just a quarry in Wales. The historical outfits all have zips up the back. Get on board with the vibe. This one goes out to @every-moment-a-different-sound, who not only made me aware of Painland week as a thing but also approached me for a collab! Go check out their FUCKING GORGEOUS GIFS for this fic!!! This fic quite literally wouldn’t exist without them, Robin you fuckin' rule 💛 4.7k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

The dungeon was a proper dingy place. Charles wondered if that's where they got the name from. Dingy, dungeon. Too similar to be a coincidence, right?

Lying on his back on the hard wood pallet, head on his hands, he stared at the pale moonlight bleeding through the window. 'Window' was being a bit generous; it was more of a slit in the wall. Narrow, barred, so high he could've stood on tiptoes and barely brushed it with his fingertips. But at least it was big enough to let in that light. He supposed he was lucky. Between the sliver of moonlight and the sputtering candle in the hallway past the wall of bars, he was bloody spoiled. He didn't know exactly where they were sending him tomorrow, but he had a pretty strong hunch that it would be dark. The kind of dark that drove men mad. Maybe the madness would get him before the bloody great beast in the tunnels got the chance.

Seemed a bit off, really. Putting him in the dingy dungeon when he bloody volunteered for this. Maybe they thought he'd change his mind and leg it in the night. Any half-sensible person would, wouldn't they? No one had ever given Charles an earful for having common sense, though. Usually the opposite.

No running away for him, that's for sure. He was bedded down for the night, just him and a handful of snoring cellmates. Despite the panic and crying, the six other lads had managed to drift into some kind of sleep, however uneasy. Not Charles, though. Too much on his mind. The stupid idea that brought him here in the first place. The near certainty that he'd fail, in the end, and he’d have no one but himself to blame for his bloody demise.

Wasn’t all bleak thoughts, though. After all, there was always him.

The prince.

He closed his eyes, letting it all play out in his head again. Stepping off the boat, being 'greeted' (shackled and marched to the dungeons) by the 'welcoming committee’ (royal guard). Him and thirteen other boys and girls, thanked like heroes and handled like criminals. The king in all his fancy regalia, booming his solemn gratitude to the brave youths for their sacrifice — as if any one of them but Charles had any choice in it. And standing there, at the king's back...

Look, Charles may have had more important things to think about, but he knew a fit lad when he saw one.

Fit didn't even cover it. The boy was just about the most gorgeous thing Charles had ever seen — or ever would see. Unless he spotted a prettier one before he died tomorrow, that is. Bit unlikely.

There was just something about him, the prince. Charles wasn't even into the posh sort, generally. Like with the more well-to-do lads from his own town — something about the baked-in entitlement soured them. Made them ugly, even if they were objectively alright looking. He could smile politely and play nice, but he’d sooner kiss a frog than a rich merchant’s kid. And a prince was a pretty big step up from a merchant's son, wasn't he? By rights he ought to be even worse. Charles probably didn't even register as a human to him. He wasn’t worth wasting a thought on.

Except Charles could still picture him perfectly, in his head. He could play out the whole welcome start to finish. How Charles' heart, all shrivelled in fear, had jumpstarted soon as he clapped eyes on the prince.

"Charles..."

He'd had dark hair all perfectly combed into an inky shine, almost prettier than the gold crown on top of it. Eyes like sea glass, clear and green and shining with a cunning light; eyes that had scanned the line of offerings and landed on Charles. Fixed him with such an intense, curious scrutiny he'd actually felt himself blush.

Hadn't Charles seen him somewhere before? That chin, that nose, those high cheekbones? He could've sworn he'd walked past him at a temple somewhere, carved from pristine marble. He could see him so clearly in his mind's eye, surely he must've known him all his life.

"Charles...?"

If he concentrated, really concentrated, he could even hear his voice...

"Charles Rowland!"

Blimey, that was scary. That sounded real.

Charles blinked his eyes open and frowned. He let his head flop to the side and looked across the cell, where the stone wall gave way to bars.

There, framed by iron and flickering candlelight, there he stood. Pretty as a picture — baffling as a dream.

Charles sat up, slow, cautious. He almost said something proper stupid, like 'what's a nice boy like you doing in a dungeon like this?'

"Um," he fumbled. "Evenin'?"

Mm. Not much better, really, was it?

"Evening, your highness?" he corrected himself, with a wince. Gods, his old man would've walloped him good and proper for talking to a royal like that.

Prince Edwin, however, didn't sneer or snap or even walk away. It was hard to see his face, at a distance in the gloom, but he almost looked amused. Charles thought he could see the barest shadow of a lifted lip, anyway.

"Good evening," said the prince. He said it so quiet, barely above a whisper, but his crisp tone carried regardless. He cocked his head slightly and beckoned with a finger. "Might I have a word?"

Charles glanced behind himself. Just on the off-chance there was another Charles Rowland he didn't know about squeezed onto the narrow bed with him. There wasn't, obviously, and he was a good few feet from any of his sleeping cellmates. No mistaking who the prince was after. He swallowed, stood up, and crept across the uneven flagstones, stepping over the sprawled legs of another boy.

As he neared, as the situation sank in and the prince came into focus, a new bundle of nerves started kicking off. Nothing like the anxious dread that had been stewing in his gut all night, the 'oh, gods, they're feeding me to a monster in the morning' nerves. No, this was different. More familiar but also, weirdly, worse than the monster dread. Fuck, but this lad was gorgeous. Not even the dungeon gloom could hide it. He was almost blinding to look at — and now those clever eyes were fixed right on Charles, no one else. Nowhere to hide. Fuck, Charles probably had sweat and cellar grime all over his face, and all!

Charles came to a standstill, toes almost touching the bars. Up close, he could see that him and the prince were about the same height. Edwin might've had the advantage by an inch or so, but maybe that was just his perfect posture. Spine straight and shoulders back, he regarded Charles with his head curiously cocked and his hands steepled. For a royal, he wasn't dressed all that flashy. Hadn't gone in for any jewellery besides the gilded circlet on his head. And under the blue silk chlamys clasped at his shoulder, his chiton was a simple white, clean and sharp and draped neatly to knee length. Expensive, pristine, put-together, but not exactly ostentatious. Mind you, that's just the sliver of outfit that Charles could see — because the prince had topped the whole thing off with a thick, practical brown cloak. A peacock disguised as a pigeon.

After a moment's quiet contemplation, the prince finally spoke. "I'm told you volunteered," he said. He kept his voice down, but it stayed crisp and clear. Highborn through-and-through. Probably wasn't even capable of mumbling.

Charles supposed it was a bit unusual, but unusual enough to bring a prince skulking down to the dungeons? He reckoned he was right about Edwin's eyes, that cleverness in them — he wasn't just a pretty face under a crown. He wanted to know things. He was staring at Charles like he wanted to pick him apart, understand him.

"Yeah," Charles answered. He forced a grin. "Not my best idea."

The prince blinked and leaned a little closer, intrigued. "Why in the world would you volunteer for this?"

His attention was sort of a lot — but it felt... good. Charles wanted to keep it. Hold onto it. He wanted this clever, gorgeous lad to think he was the most fascinating thing in the room.

Charles shrugged. "I can fight. I can take a hit. Seemed like the right thing to do. The decent thing, yeah?"

Edwin narrowed his eyes. "You’d forfeit your life to... give the beast a fight for its food?"

Charles shifted on his feet. "Not... exactly."

The prince watched him, all expectant. Charles sighed.

"Years it's been going on," he said, barely a mumble — Edwin leaned a little closer still to listen. "Lads and lasses being packed off, fed to that thing to keep it happy. Not right, is it? And I thought, well..."

He'd thought a lot of things. He'd thought well, he was already getting the shit beaten out of him every other day, so what's a little mauling on top of it? He'd thought about being his father's son, with his father's temper, and how maybe that could be a good thing for once. He'd thought about how things could change for him if he came back — and about who would even miss him if he didn't. He'd thought of all those kids less deserving than him, sent miles from home to be ripped to shreds. Sent away from bright futures and families that loved them. Gentle types who'd never hurt a fly. Kids who'd never learned to take a beating. Kids who didn't have the anger to keep them alive. Kids who weren't monster enough to survive the real thing.

"I thought, well, I'm pretty good in a scrap," he said, brightly, plastering on a smile. "Pretty stubborn. Thought if I went down there, maybe I could..."

"Could what?"

Charles raised his eyebrows.

Edwin looked at him blankly.

Charles rolled his eyes, held up one hand, and punched his fist into it twice.

Edwin's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "You mean to... slay the minotaur?"

"Told you it wasn't my best idea," said Charles.

"You have a talent for understatement," said Edwin, a sharp hiss. His voice had quickened and thinned into a hushed, incredulous patter. "I'd go so far as to describe that idea as fatuous, hubristic, and downright suicidal!"

Charles snorted. "Yeah. Sounds about right." He leaned his shoulder against the bars, brought his face closer to the prince's — which was such a brilliant idea it immediately gave him a really, really bad one. So bad it was impossible to resist.

He gave him a lax, lopsided grin — the one that he could bring out back home to make the girls giggle. "Be good if it worked, though, wouldn't it?"

Coming onto a bloody prince like he was some blushing farm lad... well, it probably wasn't a worse idea than throwing himself into a minotaur's labyrinth, but it probably wasn't much better, either. But what did it matter? They couldn't punish him, could they — they were already feeding him to a monster in the morning. What did he have to lose? Why not take a crack at the handsome prince with the pretty eyes? Sod it, it was his last night on Earth.

Edwin, to Charles' immense glee, actually seemed to get a little pink in the face. His eyes darted away and back again. "Yes, well..." He cleared his throat and straightened his cloak with a sharp tug of the front. "Have you a plan? Tactics? A weapon, at the very least?"

"Um. Well. No, not really." He dropped his fist on the bars once, twice, mulling it over. "But, I have been told my smile's pretty disarming!"

If his clumsy flirting hadn't been enough to break through the regal composure, that would've done it. Edwin's mouth dropped open a little, his brows drawing close together as he stared at Charles in abject disbelief. "Dear gods," he said, voice light and brittle. "You're doomed."

Charles chuckled, resting his forehead against the bars. "Yeah. Suppose so. Won't go down without a fight though, eh?"

He looked up through his eyelashes and found Edwin still staring, lips parted just a bit. Fuck, he had nice lips. Kissable. Charles reckoned he’d miss kissing when he was dead. What was the sentence for stealing a kiss from a prince — was it worse than death by minotaur? He might be willing to risk it.

Edwin tore his gaze away and glanced down the hall, first one way, then the other. Furtive. He seemed to come to some kind of decision. "Charles," he whispered. "Are your cellmates all asleep?"

Pulse quickening, Charles forced his eyes away from the prettiest person in the room to have a glance at the others. Everyone looked the same as they had before. Same chorus of snores and soft breaths and muttered, whimpered nightmares. "Yeah. Yeah, I reckon so."

"Right. Excellent." Edwin cleared his throat again and crowded closer to the bars.

Charles' heart was racing. He couldn't lean any closer to the bars than he already was but he wanted to. He didn't mean to, but he bit his lip, eyes flickering down to Edwin's mouth.

Edwin took another wary glance behind him, and tugged his cloak back. He reached inside. His hand closed around something under his arm and drew it out — something long and wrapped in leather.

Charles caught his breath.

"Take it," Edwin ordered, holding the hilt of the sword to the bars and looking Charles in the eye. "Quickly, and quietly."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He grabbed it, his fingers grazing Edwin's. Gods, he even had beautiful hands. Smooth on the back but a bit calloused on the pads. Didn't escape Charles' notice that the blade, though heavy, seemed to be a familiar weight in his hands.

"Cheers, mate," Charles breathed, drawing the cumbersome thing through the gap. If he was careful, he reckoned he could stash it under his thin cloak without anyone knowing.

He hadn't meant to call the gorgeous boy (who also happened to be fucking royalty) mate, but if Edwin was offended he didn't show it. In fact he ducked his head in a bashful little dip. It was so endearing Charles had to do another quick pros-and-cons list in his head about the risks of snogging him through the bars.

"Well," said Edwin, a forced lightness in his tone. "If you must embark upon this fool's errand, you must have the proper equipment."

Charles let out a ragged breath. "Thank you," he said, sincere, as he slid the scabbard through his belt. He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his head. "To be honest, I've... I've never been more scared in my life."

Edwin's shrewd gaze softened. His whole face did. It actually bowled Charles over a little bit, the difference. He felt like he ought to look away, like he was seeing something he shouldn't. A prince shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not him. Like he was something special. Something he was in awe of. "I can only imagine."

Charles bit his lip. "Less scared, now," he said, fidgeting with the hilt of the sword. Even though he felt a bit like he'd been flayed open and laid at the prince's feet, he still managed a wink. "Reckon I'll show that big bugger what's what with this thing, don't you?"

The prince’s eyes twinkled over his small, indulgent smile. "Oddly enough... yes. I believe you just might." He seemed to catch himself, a pretty blush high on his cheeks as he schooled his expression back into something a bit more lofty. "And quite a feather in your cap it will be. That beast has been a thorn in my father's side for years, holding the kingdom to ransom."

Edwin's gaze flickered over Charles, head to toe, and the pretty blush deepened. "If you were to end its reign of terror, you'd be more than deserving of a handsome reward."

"Oh, yeah?" said Charles. If he sounded breathless, it's 'cause he was. "What sort of reward?"

He felt dazed. He must've been dreaming. Five minutes ago he was accepting his fate, and now he'd been brought a fighting chance. By a gorgeous prince. Who was fucking flirting with him. They must've knocked his head on the bars when they shoved him in the cell — he was probably lying in the corner, drooling and babbling.

Edwin's eyes were restless, darting from Charles' face to his feet. His throat bobbed around a dry swallow. He looked too real to be a dream — but also too good to be true. His hand lifted, fingers resting on an iron bar between them.

"Well," he said, sounding pretty bloody breathless himself. "You could take your pick."

If this wasn't a dream, it was definitely a trick. Some rich kid teasing him, waiting to pull away at the last second and laugh at him for being so easy to string along. Or waiting for an excuse to run to his daddy and bag Charles a fate worse than death for getting fresh with him.

Except for whatever reason, he didn't believe that. Couldn't. For some reason, he trusted Edwin. Felt like he knew him. Like he'd always known him. And he knew he was kind. Not necessarily nice, but kind. For whatever reason he knew Edwin wasn't the sort to mess around with someone's feelings — or pretend to be interested when he wasn't.

Why he'd be interested in Charles of all people was another thing, but... sod it. Charles was probably gonna die tomorrow, anyway. Why not pretend it was possible for a minute? What the fuck did he have to lose?

Feeling once again like the undisputed king of bad decisions, Charles took a breath, and put his hand on top of Edwin's. He almost couldn't believe his luck when Edwin didn't pull away. His hand was soft — like the little gasp he let out when their skin touched.

Swallowing past his dry mouth, Charles laced their fingers. He let them lay there, woven on the bars; the warp and weft of it felt so right he wondered how they hadn't been doing this for years. How'd he gone this long, not realising how empty his hands were without Edwin's tangled up inside them?

He looked at Edwin's face and saw all his own thoughts reflected. Saw Edwin staring at their hands like they were a bloody marvel. Like the last piece of a puzzle had clicked into place. His face was so open, so alive — so gently amazed and Charles had never wanted to kiss someone more in his life.

Charles laughed, quiet, awed. "Handsome prize, alright."

That earned him another quick, coy duck of Edwin's head — but Charles could see him preening clear as day. "Be sure you're alive to claim it," he said, soft and serious. He squeezed Charles' hand once before breaking the hold.

Charles sketched a lazy salute to distract his hand from how empty it felt. "No dying. Right-o."

Edwin smiled. A proper smile; a quick flash of teeth breaking through his tight-lipped, regal composure. Charles would've fought the bloody titans to get another glimpse of it.

"You are... odd," said Edwin, matter-of-factly. "And quite mad, I suspect."

"...Cheers?"

Humming, Edwin reached into his cloak once more. "There is just one other thing..."

He brought out something small from a pouch at his waist. Something round, with a leather cord threaded through the middle and tied off in a loop. Edwin held it aloft, thumb and forefinger pinched through the handle. The little round something glowed silky gold in the candlelight, and Charles squinted at it.

"...String?" he asked.

Edwin nodded, reaching into the cell to take Charles' hand and draw it through the bars. His touch lingered as he placed the generous clew of fine, shimmering string in Charles' palm.

"I had the idea that if you were to unspool it behind you, perhaps you might be able to navigate the labyrinth with greater ease." Head bowed, he looked at Charles through his lashes. Pretty, fluttering things they were, charcoal black. "So that when you slay the beast, you might find your way back."

Charles gawped at him. "Mate. That's proper smart."

Edwin preened again — actually, he preened more than he had when Charles' complimented his looks. Handy to know. "Yes, I thought it rather a sensible idea. I spun it myself; I’ve been experimenting with the tensile strengths of different fibres. It shan’t break."

Charles grinned, closing his hand around the clew — and Edwin's fingers, too. "Brains and beauty, eh?" he said. "Where've you been all my life?"

Edwin went pinker, his eyes twinkled. Warmer than the candlelight, brighter than the moon.

Charles would have to offer up a prayer tonight to any god who might be listening. He'd do anything, give them anything, if they only promised to get him through tomorrow alive. He needed at least a thousand more days ahead of him, just to spend finding more and ingenious ways of making this boy smile at him.

Soon, too soon, Edwin sighed, reluctantly extricating his hand from Charles'. "I must go," he said, apologetic. "Questions will be asked if I'm discovered down here in the dead of night."

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course." Charles let his hand fall to his side, clenching it around the thread — still warm from Edwin's hand. He laughed, softly. "Well, um. Thanks for... dropping in?"

"And thank you for your discretion," said Edwin, raising his eyebrows as he drew his cloak back around him. "I'm sure I need not impress upon you the fact that I was never here."

Charles mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.

"Good. Very good." Edwin shifted his weight between his feet a moment, finger lifting, mouth opening as if he had more to say. But whatever it was, he thought better of it. He drew his hands into fists in front of him, pressed together knuckle to knuckle, and offered a tight smile instead. "Well... best of luck, Charles Rowland. I truly hope you find fortune on your side."

With a stiff bob of his head, he turned fluidly on his heel to walk away. And it hit Charles again, hard, right between the eyes. The possibility that tomorrow could be his last day alive. A few minutes ago, the idea hadn't bothered him much.

Fuck. It bothered him, now.

"Edwin," he said, almost losing control of his volume as desperation sunk its hooks into him. He grabbed the bars, white-knuckled. "Edwin, wait —"

And he did. He waited, his back to Charles, his posture so, so perfect. Still as a statue.

Charles swallowed. "Can..."

Edwin turned his head, just slightly.

Charles' courage abandoned him. He huffed, shaking his head. "Nah. Nothing."

Of course, if there's one thing Charles knew about Edwin by now, it was that he couldn't resist a mystery. He turned to face Charles, eyes bright and curious. "Is there something else you require?"

Charles forced a smile. "You've already given me two gifts, mate. Bit greedy to ask for another one, yeah?"

"Perhaps." Edwin paused, and took a cautious step closer. "But, between ourselves... I can see little harm in the asking."

Charles' grin bloomed into something more sincere, something real. "No standing on ceremony, eh?"

Edwin's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I hardly see the point. I think perhaps you and I might dispense with formalities."

"Right."

Well then. Why not? Last night on Earth, and all that.

Charles ducked his head, laughing softly at himself. "Well. I was gonna be a bit cheeky, actually. Ask you to gimme a kiss for luck. But I reckon that's a bit — mmf!"

Quick, quicker than Charles could've imagined, Edwin was right there; reaching through the bars, taking Charles' face in his hands, and pulling him into a bruising kiss.They were lucky neither of them broke their noses against the iron strips.

Charles startled, gasped, so blindsided he didn't even know what to do with his hands — so he ended up just sort of clinging onto the bars. But soon enough his eyes fluttered closed, his breath rushed out of him and he melted. He kept his grip on the bars, though, holding on tight just to keep his knees from buckling. Edwin's lips were soft, and hotter than fire. His kiss was clumsy and overeager and not even slightly what Charles would've expected from someone so elegant, so refined. But he tasted of honey and home and Charles could've got lost in him, happily. Charles felt like he'd been shoved against the wall and plundered, in the best possible way. He felt like Edwin was everywhere, filling his senses. Hard not to feel wrapped up in him, with the way Edwin had his hands cupped round Charles' face, covetous and claiming. Like Charles belonged to him.

Fuck, maybe he did. Maybe he always had.

Edwin broke the kiss, but he didn't let Charles go. Just pulled back a little, still framing Charles' face with his fingers. His eyes were dark, hooded, his pretty eyelashes fluttering as he stroked Charles' cheek with his thumb. Face flushed, breathing hot and fast, gazing at Charles like he could devour him with his eyes. Charles shivered under the possessive weight of his gaze. He felt seen, admired, treasured. He felt owned.

He wanted more. More, more, until he suffocated under it.

Edwin took a shuddering inhale. "Come back to me," he said. And just because his voice was high and wavering with feeling didn't make it any less commanding. It wasn't a request; it was an order.

Charles nodded, in a daze. "I will," he promised.

He was as surprised as anyone to find he actually meant it.

Edwin nodded, and pulled him in close once more. Quick as you like, for just one more kiss — this one dry and fleeting, almost chaste. Bit of a departure from the one before, but somehow all the more devastating. Charles could feel Edwin's palms against his jaw, pressing so tight they ought to bruise. He hoped they would. A sword and a string weren't enough; he wanted everything Edwin could give him. Every tangible reminder that this was real, wasn't just a mad dream.

When that kiss broke, so did Edwin's hold. When he stepped away, he went all the way. And with one last lingering, longing look, he was gone, fading into the night. A mirage. A ghost.

And like a broken amphora, Charles remained right where Edwin had left him. Off-kilter, rooted to the spot. His outer shell shattered; his insides pooling at his feet for all to see.

It would be a sombre morning, just as the others had been. A familiar and predictable tragedy; as it always was, and always shall be.

At dawn's early light, just as they always had, seven young men and seven young women would be led — marched, bullied, carried — to the mouth of the labyrinth. There, the trembling gathering would be ushered into the embrace of the earth and stone. Pushed by the merciless hands of a royal guard, who'd long learned to look past the blood upon them.

But on this occasion, quite without the guards' knowledge, one youth would hang back from the crowd. From his cloak he would draw a small token, round and bright like a golden apple. A ball of fine yarn — spun in strong, beautiful fibres by strong, beautiful hands. He would find the end of the thread and fasten it, tightly, to an old iron ring within the threshold.

Then, with the clew unspooling from his fingers, painting a trail behind him like a steady drip of molten gold, he would walk into the jaws of death. Not with fear, not even with resignation, but with purpose. He was no hapless sacrifice, no tragic victim. He was a youth who'd grown accustomed to treading lightly through the dark, lest the monster in his house leap from the shadows. A youth with steel in his hand, and his own monster in his belly; a monstrous rage, and monstrous desire. A hunger to rival that of the minotaur’s.

A youth with a promise to keep in the dark; and a path waiting to lead him back to the light.

A ball of thread is known as a clew or, in an alternative spelling, a clue. To this day, we talk about following the ‘clues’ to discover something, and it’s all thanks to the story of Theseus and Ariadne’s thread. — things I didn’t even know when I came up with this idea but make me insane… everything is connected… detective boys forever… Thanks for reading guys! You know I adore your comments 💛 and don't forget to give Robin's amazing gifs some love as well! Dunno if I'll get anything posted tomorrow, but if I do it'll either be something much shorter or maybe some sketches. I will defo see you for another fic on day 4, though! Any encouragement very much welcomed, it's been a rough couple of weeks💛 Painland Week Prompt List

#painlandweek #painland week #dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #my fanfic #transplanting their voices into this setting is UTTERLY absurd but ngl I love it #hope you do too!!#and thank you soooo much for all the love for yesterday's fic 💛💛💛#there's defo gonna be fic for day 4 #and a fic + another gif collab for day 7 👀#everything else is up in the air and we'll have to see what happens!#so yeah cheerleading very much welcomed jhdsfdbngsdgf

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