#im going to lose my fucking marbles before she gets home from work

[theygender]

I told myself that if I opened all the windows and lit incense I'd be okay but now I can't find any matches or lighters and I can't scream my frustrations while digging through every drawer in the house bc the windows are open. One of life's many trials

[musicallisto]

Hi, congrats on 800 followers! Can I please get a Six of Crows ship? I’m have short brown hair (I dyed red last week) and green eyes. I don't mind if im shipped with a girl or a boy. I like reading (no romantic novels), music and photography. I'm Aquarius. I’m very curious. I'm a little shy and even cold at first. I’m not good with feelings, I mostly keep them to myself if I can, but I care deeply for my loved ones and would do anything to help them, even if I'm not very good at giving advice. ☆

hi! here’s your vanilla milkshake, I hope you like it! I ship you with jesper fahey!

You don’t imagine the extent of my joy to be able to add a gif of an actual real person for Jesper... however shall I survive until Aprid 23rd?

For the longest time, you thought the world started and ended at your corner of Fjerda, in your frozen estate by the True Sea.

You were descented from minor Fjerdan nobility, and your father, jaded by Court Life and its political intrigues - and, unofficially, penniless after giving his all for the sempiternal wars on Ravka -, had decided to leave the capital and retire to his family’s estate by the sea a few years after you were born.

All you had ever known were the large, marbled corridors you’d spend entire afternoons wandering, daydreaming about adventures in the confines of the country - or living the lavish life of a true Fjerdan princess, in an outrageously enormous bed of satin sheets...

The house was spacious and beautiful, with a marvelous view over the sea, gently carrying its boats to and fro before you - and you’d stay there on the balcony in your flowy white dress, admiring the ocean until you couldn’t fight the chills of the night creeping up your spine anymore; but as tranquil and languid as your existence was, it was also terribly lonely.

All you longed for was a sibling, a friend, a partner in crime, someone you could explore the world and go on quests with...

... until a lighting bolt tore the silence, one night.

You couldn’t sleep, so you had gone on a walk by the shore as you often did - your father was never worried about it, since you knew the rocks and their cracks like the back of your hand, and would know the way back home even with your eyes closed.

But you were so absorbed by the distant twinkling of stars that you didn’t notice the shadows creeping up behind you until it was too late.

Screams in a language you can’t understand; an arm around your neck in a chokehold, another slipping under your knees; you thrash around, slice all you can, bite and claw at all you can grasp...

Your abductors know better than to let Fjerdan nobility get away from their grasp. They don’t know exactly who you are - but they’ve guessed from the distinguished aspect of your house that there’s a fine sum to gain from whoever will be willing to pay for you - your father for a ransom, or anyone else, in Kerch, who’ll make good use of your services.

Those brothels in Ketterdam pay good money for young girls, they hear - even more so for a Fjerdan pearl.

When they throw you on an overloaded carriage like a potato sack, you’re still yelling at the top of your lungs, pleading for your father, for one of your maids, for anyone to help you.

But no one hears.

You shed all the tears you have in the first night, tossed around in a dark chariot, off to somewhere unknown. Your father hasn’t prepared you for this - nothing, not even your books nor your fantastical imaginary adventures...

But you don’t intend on being sold off that easily. So you devise a plan to get away.

The first opportunity to break free presents itself when your kidnappers force you to board a ship; but they manage to catch you before you’ve run very far.

But second time’s the charm; with nothing better to do during the voyage than to bide your time and gnaw at your bonds, you’re able to slip from your captor’s watch, and blindly run through the harbor - just to get as far as possible from the stench of this floating carcass.

The first thing that strikes you is the odor. You’ve known the sea forever - it’s clear and bright as ice, and smells of fresh mornings and cold salt; never of this green rot that festers everywhere in these streets... and all those chimneys, all those people, who stare you down as you run down these grimy streets, barefoot in your off-white dress...

You understand that you’re farther from home than you’ve ever been, and it’s not a thrilling adventure, it’s terrifying and overwhelming, and you want nothing more than to burst into tears.

But you don’t, because a pair of strangers flag you down in a language you don’t understand.

A tall and lanky dark-skinned boy, wearing vibrant fabric and a self-assured grin; and possibly the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen in your life, all bright eyes and genuine frown.

Paralyzed, you open your mouth, once, twice, incapable of making the slightest sound; until the girl notices your visible discomfort, and, eyeing your pale eyes, asks in the slightest of Ravkan accents;

“Are you Fjerdan?”

You nod with all your soul. You’re ready to cling onto them both for dear life.

“What happened to you?”

Your voice fails you - you can’t explain it - you haven’t even comprehended it all. You were curled up in front of the fireplace just the night before...

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

You shake your head with despair, trying to blink back the tears.

“Come with us. We know someone who’ll help you.”

You don’t mull it over very long. Maybe it’s your sheltered uprbinging that has made you naive; maybe it’s the curiously comforting warmth you see in the Ravkan girl’s eyes; but you simply have no better option, and you can’t understand a word of Kerch, or wherever it is that this barbarian folk speak.

Although your two saviors start arguing, probably about whether or not they can reasonably take you in, your tear-stained cheeks and desperate vulnerability are enough to convince them - so you follow them.

Into the lair of the Dregs, of whom you’ve never heard - and of Kaz Brekker, who you know very well.

After all, he’s the infamous gangster who invaded your homeland, broke into the Ice Court, and stole the Shu boy - or so you saw your father read in the papers. To know that you are under the same roof as that lowlife would be enough to give your father a heart attack...

You’re half convinced that he’ll throw you back to the streets, but Nina and, surprisingly, Jesper as well, plead in your favor with a greatly convincing fervor. You learn that it’s probably because Kaz has much greater worries on his mind - the criminal group is planning on retrieving one of their own from the clutches of a treacherous business partner, or so you’ve gathered.

Either way, you’re more than happy that the terrifying and redoubtable Kaz Brekker is leaving you alone, and that you can enjoy Jesper’s company.

You two become unexpectedly good friends overtime. He comes to visit you at the Crow Club, where you’re staying, almost every day. Yet communication is not your strong suit, especially in a language you don’t understand at all, and you don’t fancy yourself a particularly enthralling girl to be around.

Not when one has lived the life of a criminal, a sharpshooter, a wanderer, a playboy... well, all those things that Jesper prises himself on being, and all those words he’s taught you in Kerch.

(That and the curse words, of course, that you’re a bit intimidated to use at first, until they slip out of your mouth one evening when you drop your plate at dinner with the Dregs, and the entire canteen falls dead silent.)

“Did she just say ‘fuck’?”

“I think she just said fuck.”

“See, Matthias, she wasn’t immediately struck by lighting by Djel’s hand. You won’t die if you say it.”

Speaking of Matthias, he’s also a good friend of yours - it’s comforting and refreshing to have a familiar face around, one of Fjerdan roots and mores.

Although the rest of the group says you’re not that Fjerdan.

“You’re one of the feisty ones, at least.”

“I’m not ‘feisty’. Shut up, Jesper.”

“Ah, I see you’ve been working on the vocabulary I taught you!”

Matthias and you both have a lot of soul-searching and unlearning to do about the outside world - you were raised in particularly bigoted environments, you somewhat less than him. The hatred for the Grisha he’s been taught by the Drüskelle is fear in your case; you’ve been brought up on bedtime stories of bloodthirsty Grisha who devour unruly kids, and war and devastation caused by their unstability and blasphemous magic.

It’s even more of a shock to you when you learn Jesper is a Grisha.

Unbeknownst to you, you’ve started to fall a little for him - how could you not? He’s funny, charming, sarcastic and witty; always has the best stories to tell, and despite it all, sincerely cares for you amidst the chaos of their heist and revenge plans.

But to learn he was the kind of monster - no, the kind of creature - no, the kind of person, you force yourself to correct mentally - that you had been taught to fear for your entire life...

“I’m so sorry. You should never have been there.”

He’s pacing back and forth in your room after a shootout has gone awry and you were caught in the crossifre; it’s the first time he’s ever had to use his Durast powers to get you of the mess - and normally he wouldn’t have, because it’s a secret he wishes he could carry to the grave, but the fear of losing you was too strong...

“Thank god that I was there, though. What would you do without me?”

He’s fidgety and restless, nervously playing with his pistols, and his nervous laugh is all but genuine; and you’re huddled up on your bed, staring him down with wide eyes.

“Jesper, you...”

“Yeah, maybe not the best moment.”

“Jesper...”

“It’s like they have a knack for knowing exactly where we’re gonna be and when...”

“Jesper!”

He abruptly turns to look at you, and his eyes widen. He’s starting to understand, almost, but refuses to believe it. Your voice is a murmur, and you can hardly hold his gaze.

“Jesper, are you... going to hurt me?”

His words die in his throat. He remembers where you’re from... the garbage that they must have filled your ears and head with from the day you were born... how feverish Matthias was with Nina... he looks at his hands, and his Materialki magic rumbles like a dark curse.

“Y/N, you’re scared of me?”

The sheer hurt in his voice breaks your heart. Even though you’re trembling, you let him step closer to you, slowly. It’s Jesper in front of you, not some ungodly monster from legends... Jesper, your Jesper...

“I’m... I’m sorry...”

He cups your face in his hands, warm and just a bit moist, and stares into your eyes with a vulnerability you have never seen in him.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you, Y/N, I swear on my life. All I want is you to be safe...”

Safe from me, if that’s what you wish, he thinks for a split second, but you don’t give him time to doubt; you’ve captured his lips in a frenzied kiss, and hold on for dear life onto his lean shoulders.

Fjerda and its blind hatred is very far from you, now. You're locked in Jesper's embrace, and you won't have to hear their lies anymore.

You know you have nothing to fear from him; not now, and not ever.

800 follower sleepover CLOSED!

[momoshin]

Hello! If it's okay, could I please request 21 +35 + 79 + 86 for Ryujin X sub. Fem reader please. Thank you 😊

you giggle as she pushes you against the cold, marble wall, “oh my god, gentle?”

“sorry” ryujin copies your expression and slightly smirks, her hand locking the bathroom door “just really missed you”

“i can tell” dipping your hands inside her skirt, you can feel just how wet she is, and it makes you blush that it’s all because of you.

“that’s not the rules, you know that” her eyebrow raises and you take out your hand, huffing.

“i wanna make you feel good too”

“good thing we’re going home soon then, huh?” knowing you understood that there was no argument left, she focuses on the reason the two of you were in this fancy bathroom in the first place.

“First one” she starts, kissing your neck hurriedly, prompting you to throw your head back and sigh delighted. “to make a noise” more kisses only this time lower, closer to your cleavage “loses.”

“but that’s not–“ a gasp interrupts you, when she pinches the soft skin of your tit, her finger right next to her lips on your skin and a playful smirk on her lips when you look down at her, glaring “necessary” you sigh, forgetting about your denial to hold in your moans because she’s doing just the right things to keep you quiet

“i know, but it’s fun” she chuckles

“ryu?-“

“yeah baby?” she looks up from your chest, hand expertly undoing the clasps of your bra after she had successfully taken off your tiny top. she notices your timid demeanor and instantly fixes her position, a knowing grin on her lips “do you want something? gotta use words angel”

“bite me” you’re blushing, and she can only imagine the other things running through your head if you were willing to ask her to bite you in a place like this.

“are you sure?” ryujin takes your waiting stare as a yes and kisses your jaw “where should i do it, hm? here?” she kisses your pulsepoint. “or here?” she kisses your clavicle

“or maybe here” her lips press in between your breasts “that way “you don’t need to cover up the bruises.”

“I don’t care what you do just—“ sighing, you bring yourself back to earth. “do it, and fuck me.”

“oh” she chuckles, and in a quick, swift motion, your cheek is against the wall and your ass is grazing her front, she pulls the bottom of your skin-tight dress over your ass, tutting at the lack of underwear. “you gotta stop doing this to me”

“in fact— i think i know where to bite” she drops to her knees, kneading the skin of your ass and pressing light kisses to it. you want to moan, scream at her to do something else, but you know the rules. so you don’t, and instead bite down on your fist when she bites your ass, most probably leaving her teeth marked on it.

but you have no time to process the enjoyable sting before you feel the warmth of her tongue pressed flat under your hole, any other time you would have gasped, maybe whimpered, maybe she would have hummed at your taste, but you’re both reluctant to lose. she laps all the juices with her tongue, each hand holding an asscheek, squeezing it, and kneading it, while her tongue worked it’s wonders on you.

it’s when she decides to tongue-fuck you, when you’re oh so close, that the smallest whimper escapes you. you’re hoping she didn’t hear it, and instead push your hips further against her face, but she only pulls away.

“i heard that” she shakes her head.

“i’m sorry- im really close”

“too bad, you lost” brushing her knees, she stands up slowly, fixing your dress and pecking your lips, which was enough for you to taste yourself on her lips. “i’m going out first” she reaches for the door

“but– are you really gonna leave me like this?” there’s a pout in your lips, and your voice is doing that thing where it goes up a few octaves to persuade her, but she stands her ground hard as a rock and shakes her head.

“say your goodbyes and meet me in the car in 10” she’s gone, and you take advantage of her absence to stomp on the floor, knowing the fit would only grant you trouble, and you even thought about getting yourself off behind her back, but one way or another she always finds out. so, huffing, you make your way out after her, desperate to know what’s to come.

[brashashxao]

The Two Sides Of Kai (PT 1)

🖤 Genre: Smut 

🖤 Rating: M

🖤 Pairing: Kim Jongin aka Kai X Reader

🖤 Synopsis: You get a job teaching English skills to kpop idols at SM entertainment where you meet Kai and everything changes.

🖤 Word Count: 1,958k

🖤 Warnings: this story starts out a bit slow and ends very smutty.

**Writers note: Hey guys! this is my very first post! im thinking of making this into 2 parts. i love all kpop idols and my bias list is insane! i thought i would start out with Kai since i last saw SuperM in concert. I hope you enjoy!!**

“What the fuck was i thinking?” I say to myself as I hold onto the cold stark white bathroom vanity in front of me. My mind has been wondering since i stepped of the plane just a few hours ago. I left my home in America to teach English in Seoul. But I never imagined I would be teaching English to kpop idols at SM entertainment. I splash cold water on my face and wash my hands. “You can do this Y/N” i stare at myself in the mirror and say. i feel a tiny bundle of nerves form in my stomach as I exit the bathroom with shaky hands. 

I stand behind a huge velvet curtain waiting for my cue to step out and introduce myself.

I hear the soft chatter and murmurs from the crowd which could only be the idols themselves.

“Alright everyone calm down” i hear Mr. Lee Soo-Man echo through a microphone. “I bet you are all wondering why you are here?” he says fixing his suit jacket. “We have a new staff member joining us today, she will be working closely with all of you and help sharpen your English comprehension skills” Mr. Lee Soo-Man glances at the curtain, “please welcome her with open arms, Miss Y/N will you please join us on stage?” That’s my cue, I straighten my back and clear my dry throat as I make my way up the polished marble stairs and onto the stage. And that’s when I see him..in the flesh. The very person who I knew I would see but didn't expect to see so soon. 

Kai is sitting front row next to Chanyeol. He has on a simple pair of dark jeans with rips at the knee and a plaid shirt with a white T shirt underneath. His hair is pulled back into a baseball cap, and for a moment I debate whether it's too late to chicken out and run off the stage. His golden skin peaks from under his sleeves as he rolls them up nonchalantly. His lips looked more plump and kissable in person. “Run away stupid” I silently scold myself in my head. “Um hi” I say as I clear my increasingly dry throat. 

“Thank you Mr. Lee Soo-man for this once in a lifetime opportunity” I say as I quickly bow. “Once in a lifetime Y/N” i whisper to myself. “As stated earlier, I will be helping you guys further your English skills” I exclaim clapping my hands together and smiling softly. Just then Kai sits up in his chair and turns his full attention to me, ignoring a whispering Chanyeol in the process. I feel my insides ignite with just a simple look from this man. His chocolate brown eyes stare holes into my face and suddenly i forget how to breathe. I’m reminded i’m on stage in front of the entire company when Kai unfolds a lopsided grin and raises his eyebrows. I clear my voice, “I am very excited to work with you all, and I hope to learn from you as much as you learn from me!” I stand back, and if on signal Mr. Lee Soo-Man returns from the shadows. I can't focus on what he's saying as i try to keep my legs tightly closed while avoiding Kai’s gaze. “This man is going to be the death of me,” I say to myself. 

When the meeting concludes Mr. Lee Soo-Man approaches me with a shy Kai in tow. “Y/N, you can work in groups. We can start with Exo, Kai has generously offered to show you around and help you get situated”. Kai blushes behind Mr. Lee Soo-Man. “I’ll leave you two it” he flashes a grin as he walks away.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I cannot be left alone with this man.”  I think in my head ignoring Kai’s outstretched hand. “Oh i'm sorry” I say. I feel so small next to him. His large hands nearly swallows mine hole. His golden skin glistens even in doors. His silver hair peaks from under his hat, and I lose myself in his smile. His plump lips So warm and kind. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Kai” I choke out. “Jongin, please call me Jongin” he says smooth as butter. And I realize how much I love his voice, how i want to hear him saying my name over and over as he buries himself inside of me. “What the fuck, get your head in the game y/n, you did not travel this far just to loose your job in the first 30 minutes” i repeat over and over like a sacred mantra in my head. “Let me show you around” he says as he flashed me a smile that could make puppies cry. “Lead the way” i say. 

My god he smelled good, he looked good, but most of all you could tell the passion he had for his job as he led me through the halls of the building, leaving no stone un turned as he showed me every inch of the building. Even the janitors closet. I smirked internally when he mentioned that the janitors closet was vital to the tour. We stopped at one last door down a dimly lit hall. He sighed and turned to me looking unsure, “And this, this is the most important room to me. Its where I practice daily, hourly.” he opens the door and I am greeted with a big room with floor to ceiling mirrors. Leather bean bag chairs and a large dark oak table with chairs surrounding it, Complete with a Dj station off to the side. It smells just like him. Woodsy and manly. The Wood floors were so shiny I could see my reflection, the SM logo is plastered in the middle of the sleek wooden wall. 

“This is beautiful” I murmur as I take in the room, simple yet masculine. I spin to find Jongin looking at me, his brown eyes dark and clouded. He stalks his way over to me and i melt where I stand. I can’t find my voice when he stands in front of me staring at me. He towers over my much smaller frame. He takes his hat off to run his hair through his messy silver strands. I watch as he reaches out to stroke my cheek. He steps closer and I could swear his eyes get even darker. “y/n you’re so beautiful, i’m sorry, i’m not usually a forward person” he says taking a strand of my hair between his fingers before bringing it to his lips. In this moment I can't find my voice and I curse myself for just staring back at him foolishly. Before I can reply his lips are on mine. Soft at first as if testing the waters, then the kiss heats up. He moves his tongue across my lips silently begging for entry. I opened my mouth to feel his soft tongue caressing my tongue and cheeks. Like silk, his touch, his tongue feels like silk.  

I don't even notice when my back hits the wall. I feel him  growing hard under his jeans, as it pokes me in my belly. I entangle my hands in his hair knocking his hat free. I pull him closer to deepen the kiss and a moan escaped his lips. “Fuck you taste so good y/n” now its my turn to moan as he says my name. It feels like ecstasy. He moves his hands over my waist and down my sides until he reaches my ass. “Your body is so perfect, so curvy in all the right places” he says against my lips. He then kisses my cheeks, and the shell of my ear before peppering kisses down my neck. By now i can say goodbye to these panties. He moves his hands expertly over the fabric of my blouse before taking a nipple in his mouth. I moan while tangling my fingers in his hair. He looks up at me between his eyelashes and says “ can i?” confusion spreads through my features. He motions down to my pants. I simply nod and he slowly goes to his knees and slides my pants over my waist, then my ass and to my ankles. 

He slides kisses down my legs and he grasps onto my ass for dear life. I feel shy, im half naked while he is fully clothed. He reaches to kiss my inner thigh as he hitches one of my legs over his shoulders. Moving my panties to the side he inhales. “So sweet, i wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell baby” My mind is hazy. He looks at me with expectant eyes before I nod to him that he can continue. He uses the pad of his thumb and works my clit in circular motions. He then uses his tongue to lick the folds of my most secret spot. “You taste like heaven” he says against my pussy and the vibration makes me moan Louder than I wanted to. he delves his tongue flat in and out of my entrance. All the while rubbing my clit. 

I tug on his hair as I moan his name over and over. He looks up at me with his plush lips coated in my juices. He flashes me a cocky grin before he slides two slender digits inside of me. He watches me writhe and scream his name for a minute before licking my clit as his fingers push in and out of me. A bundle of heat courses through my body when he curves his fingers just right hitting a spot I didn't even know existed. I throw my head back and yell his name before coming all over his fingers and mouth. He continues to lick and fuck me with his fingers and just when i thought i couldn't breathe he brings me to another orgasm, just as mind bending as the one before. I have to catch my breath and hold onto his head for dear life as i get weak. He looks at me and smiles. “You’re so beautiful when you come on my fingers y/n, i want to watch you come for me again” with a shaky sigh i barely breathe out “im to sensitive”. He sees this as a challenge and pumps his fingers faster, so fast I instantly lose my footing and fall backwards on my ass, Jongin chuckles while still pumping his digits in and out of me at an impressive speed. 

When I finally think I can't take anymore i cry out “oh my god Jongin im going to come!” he removes his hand and replaces it with his mouth as my body explodes. My orgasm rips through my body fast and hard leaving me breathless. Breathing heavily, I snapped my eyes open. I didn't even know were closed. Jongin stands up and helps me to my feet. He turns to me and places a tender kiss on my lips before licking them. His big soft lips feel amazing against my burning flesh. “Now if you’ll excuse me y/n i have to take a shower and handle a few things” Jongin says with a sly wink. “I-i can help you” i motion to his hard bulge threatening to rip his pants from his body. “Maybe next time, goodnight y/n” he says and he turns on his heel leaving me in a puddle of self worry and confusion.

“I am SO getting fired” i say aloud while hitting myself in the head with the palm of my hand “so getting fired”

**I hope you guys enjoyed this little scenario! i look forward to finishing this story and creating more!**

-BrashAsh Xao

[prxst-n]

tw: domestic abuse, fighting, blood, alcohol

a squeak and he could have been given away. marble floors there to ruin his chances of being invisible. he wasn’t usually supposed to enter through the front of the house but with the heavy new york rain made walking through the side maid entrance impossible for him unless he wanted to lose his shoes in the mud along with the pants that he was wearing. it was late... he would go unnoticed, right?

  “his ninth birthday is next week, bruce.” a soft and leading voice always so beautiful to the boy and he recognized it as non other than his mother’s. “can’t i throw him a party... just one? he wants to have a fun party by the pool.” she was so hushed, so quiet.

a curious young mind pulled closer to the voices and pressed his ear against the wooden door only to hear the last note of an entertained scoff. “another year of begging, petunia. you think i would ever offer my house to be serviced for a maid let alone a maid’s lousy son? what would people think? why offer such venue to someone working for me? i don’t offer any of the other service here parties. no fucking way im giving that boy a party here.”

       “he’s your son. it’s his birthday.”

                                          S M A C K!

a sound so threatening to the child’s ears it almost sent him into the office. blowing his cover but he knew that if he did then he’d be in more trouble for ease dropping and sneaking around the main part of the mansion and with muddy shoes. he could feel the pain of being hit himself. right across the cheek and the fear he’d have looking up at that man’s eyes.  

       “that...boy. is your son. he’s nothing to me other than a lousy mistake.”

one down. two to go.

          quickly tequila filled his system as he had been pounding his drinks. the memory of the night repeating in his head like a broken record. lousy mistake. another shot. way to go preston. another night of drinking to erase the pain he felt of all those nights hearing what a no good burden he was ate away at his mind. such a dark place for such heavy words, drowning him just like the hard liquor he used to mask it all away. he’s your son. “im no one’s son.” he mumbled to himself in an almost incoherent stutter.

             mistake. mistake. MISTAKE.

  three empty shots and he had a request for more and despite the look in the bartender’s eyes as he watched the large frame needing the counter for support he looked the other way as he slid over another round of shots. it was his tip he wanted either way. just as his lips pressed to the rim of the shot glass there was a wave of laughter from another group of men, a small shove and a nudge into preston causing the liquid to drip down his chin and into his shirt.

                                    “shit. sorry, man.” one appologized and just turned to the group of other’s he was with.

         “fuck you.” preston let out in a hard mumble. “FUCK YOU!” he turned with a heavy sway and grabbed for the shoulder of the man who had accidentally bumped into him.

           “hes nothing more than a mistake.”  bruce’s voice rang loud and clear and soon the face of the older male was all preston could see.

 CRACK! his fist his skin, swinging hard against the other’s face in a way that seemed to scare other’s around him. he was a fighter after all and no amount of alcohol seemed to derail his ability to throw a punch when he wanted to. but of course with one punch out always came on punch in and damn, the pain felt amazing. there wasn’t a numbing from the alcohol, congratulations, this other guy has a pretty strong punch. but preston proceeded to swing, soon too bloodied and busted to realize who or where he was hitting and the group twisted him in their grip and dragged him out. like a bull being dragged back in a cage he fought the whole way, demanding his drinks.

only outside on the curb as he was thrown into a puddle of dirty chicago mud on the sidewalk this is where the group tagged together to prove preston was not going to get away with some sort of bad attitude. only; little did they know each punch, kick, slander... was nothing but a soothing moment as the words of his father blasted over them all.        

                 “boy! you caused me nothing but trouble.”

  “fuck you.”                                         “look at yourself, you failure.”

           “you think you will ever admit to anything great? a loser and failure like your slut of a mother.”

the beating seemed to end when one pointed out the puddle he was in had gotten a little too red and they must have figured he learned his lesson as they all walked off, few cleaning off their knuckles and others holding their noses from where preston had managed to throw in his drunken swings; probably breaking them in the process.

         a moment passed but he managed to climb in a wobbling state to his feet. blood dripping from his head mixing with the rain has caused it hard to see but he knew his way home... didnt he? a stumble forward. a fall to the ground. and the scent of blood and puke was the last thing he remembered before his world went dark.  a gurgle of ‘help me’ passed his lips but he didn’t know what would come of it.

[stewyonmolly]

writer taggy thing

thank you so much to @theoceanismyinkwell and @itsybitsyspiderling for the tags!! 

1. What’s your favorite genre to write?

i don't typically think my writing sticks to one genre so much, but when it does, i find myself bouncing around in the realm of magical realism! in my non-fic writing world, i'm currently writing a short-ish story in a magical realism world and i'm very excited about it :')

2. Do you pull inspiration from real life, or do you pull things from other books/fanfiction you’ve read?

all of the above!! so much from real life, but sometimes (especially when i first started writing, much less so now) i take screenshots or notes of lines i loved because of the voice or image or description and i'll try to emulate that vibe

3. Do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things?

a lot of longer things, at first, but recently i've been doing tons of short little baby one shots and loving that! depends whether i want plot or just an aesthetic expanded into words lmao

4. Do you prefer to write description or dialogue?

i think i'll always have to say descriptions. when i first started writing, it was ALL description, most of it bad, but then i had depression and started writing poetry and my descriptions started getting better (lmao). when i seriously started with prose- less than a year ago- i was Very Bad At Dialogue And Also Characterization And Also Plot so i clung to my descriptions, but now it's been a good long while and i read and wrote some pieces that whipped my ass into shape enough for me to say i like both!!

5. Favorite fic/book of all time?

oh man. favorite books: revolutionary road by richard yates. hp and the order of the phoenix. as you like it by shakespeare (ik it's a play, deal w it). catcher in the rye. perks of being a wallflower (SORRY OOKAY). emma by jane austen.

favorite fics: (i've never done a rec post so i'll stick to 3 and i'll stick to irondad but if you want a rec post, oh my god say the word and i shall deliver)

built from scraps (@peter-stank) of fucking course. i've reread this so many times it should be illegal and it never gets less brilliant, less funny, less ingenious with regards to plot. sometimes i think about "i'm your huckleberry" and i just shake my head to myself because it's like the most basic line in the whole piece and yet it made me throw my phone. every relationship in this fic is scrappy and raw and angry and desperate and beautiful.

the odd couple buddies series by bysine on ao3. it's one of the first fics for marvel i ever read and it's brilliant. it's got peter and bucky, peter and tony, sam and thor, steve and the general public of new york, harry osborn, everything you want and more.

the tallest man, the broadest shoulders by @groo-ock. need i say more? i reread this monthly at a minimum. i lose my marbles every single time. she just has a way with words, with plot, with almost absurdist humor, with character, with everything. magical. it's pure magic.

6. Favorite trope?

i don't think i have one?? just, like, things that end with peter being happy. that's it. let him live. 

7. Are you the kind of person to work on more than one wip?

usually not, but recently, yes..... like, so many at once....... i have like eight that i switch tabs between rn while i'm working on "sarcasm squad gets a summer home"......

8. How long have you been writing?

i first wrote bad, bad fic when i was like 12. then i stopped. i picked up poetry at 15, stopped. picked up prose at 19 and now i'm almost 20 and still going! 

9. Do you tend to write more in the morning, afternoon, or evening?

i wish there was a pattern to it. it's just whenever my manic bastard fingies decide to typey type. 

10. Do you prefer to post and update your WIP chapter by chapter or wait until it’s 100% complete before sharing it?

i have no pattern here either -- usually as its completed, but with sarcasm squad i'm trying to wait. i keep saying i'll post faster but i'm wondering if it's better to keep you all waiting for actual regular friday updates even if i finish it early bc im an asshole >:-)

i'm tagging: @groo-ock, @coconutknightshade, @peterparkrr and anyone else who wants to! if you were already tagged, oops! ignore me!

[yandere-society]

can i request a yandere jimin that’s so dependent on the reader that when she goes to work and he stays home (because he’s out of work/works at home), he literally destroys himself and ends up going to her work looking like he was mauled by a bear (not literally but i hope you get the point). it’s totally fine if you don’t do it!!! — 🐹

Labor of Love

word count: 1.7k

author/admin: kimseokmomjins🥀

a/n: this contains extremely graphic depictions of self-harm and mentions of suicide, please read at your own discretion 

The violent vibrations of your cellphone caused you to awake with a startle. You scrambled to silence your phone, knowing Jimin was not fond of his sleep being interrupted by nuisances, but hesitated when you saw your superior’s name illuminating the screen.

Manager Kim never called you, always electing to communicate through e-mail, so his call was a surprise to you, to say the least. Something must’ve gone wrong with the latest project. Carefully sliding out of the sheets so as to not wake Jimin, you scuttled away to your adjoining bathroom and accepted the call. Manager Kim gave you no room to speak, immediately cutting to the chase the second you answered.

“You need to come in now. Our client received your design and he claims it’s not what he asked for. Now the bastard wants something bigger, flashier, and done in 3 hours.” You cupped your hand around the receiver, keeping your voice hushed. “Namjoon, you know I can’t, I have—” 

“Y/N,” he pleaded, “Please. I let you work from home seven days a week, I keep our correspondence solely through e-mail. I don’t ask questions about your lifestyle. I’m only asking you to help just this once.” His desperation pulled at your heartstrings, reminding you a lot of a certain someone. Inhaling, you shut your eyes tightly and acquiesced. “Fine, Namjoon. I’ll come in, but only for an hour or two.” You could practically hear the tension in his voice dissipate as he thanked you for your cooperation. “I knew I could count on you! I’ll see you soon, be prepared for a shitstorm.” Manager Kim ended the call abruptly, leaving you to contemplate your next decision.

There was no way Jimin would let you go into work, much less on such short notice. Some would call him controlling, or even downright insane, but to you, he was just a man with an extremely unhealthy inferiority complex. Jimin was someone who loved fiercely, passionately, but never believed people could reciprocate those same feelings towards him. Not even you, his wife of 3 years, who loved him more than life itself—who held him in her arms after every breakdown, every relapse. 

But being the sole breadwinner of the household meant you had to make the difficult choice: either go to the office or get fired. Either way, you either risked potentially losing Jimin, or losing your house, the car and health insurance. Neither was ideal, but lately, Jimin had been in high spirits. His old scars had finally begun to heal, meaning he hadn’t cut himself in at least three weeks. Maybe he was capable of staying home alone for a few hours. 

You looked at your phone’s digital clock. 6:58 a.m. Jimin seldom got up before noon, so you figured if you left now while he was asleep, you could make it back before he woke up. You rushed to make yourself presentable, trying to take as little time as possible, while also being as quiet as you could. Sneaking back into the bedroom, you knelt down on Jimin’s side of the bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you gave him a tender kiss, hoping it wouldn’t be your last. “Minnie, baby,” you murmured so as to not stir him. He hummed in response, still deep in REM sleep, but slightly conscious. You continued, “I need to run to the office, okay? I’ll be back soon. I love you.” Jimin mumbled something incoherent and curled into his pillow, looking absolutely serene. 

Collecting your purse, you head past the kitchen, your eyes catching sight of the knife block that sat on the marble countertop. Fearing Jimin might potentially spiral and relapse, you carried the heavy block to the hall closet and hid it behind a stack of quilts, hoping Jimin wouldn’t be desperate enough to tear apart the closet. With a determined nod of your head, you set off to work, saying your silent prayers that everything would be okay.

•·················•·················•

When Namjoon said work would be a shitstorm, he wasn’t exaggerating. Your client, a semi-famous rapper by the name of Agust D, whatever the hell that meant, decided that he didn’t like his promotional advertisements. Three days before his comeback. You were able to get the redesign done, but not without him hovering over your back and micromanaging every minuscule detail, down to the smallest pixel. After hours of edits, you finally had a moment to relax. 

Checking your phone, your eyes widened when you saw that it was currently one in the afternoon. What was even more alarming was that you had over 13 missed calls and 54 unread text messages from Jimin. Fearing the worst, you unlocked your phone and began skimming through his messages, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

[Minnie 8:21 a.m]: hey baby, where’d you go?

[Minnie 8:23 a.m]: baby?

[Minnie 8:25 a.m]: Y/N?

[Minnie 8:30 a.m]: hello?????

[Minnie 8:34 a.m]: whatever you’re doing isn’t funny baby. please respond.

Your thumb scrolled upwards, towards the newer messages. The more recent, the more incoherent and unstable Jimin’s texts became.

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i get hthat u dotn lovve me anymore and im soty for ebeingf stupoid and ugly and uselass im sorry for a being patheic 

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i’

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i’ll end it all fro u

[Minnie 12:42 p.m]: YOU’RE MY FUCKOING EVERYTHISNG YOU FUCKING DONT UNETRESTAND I FUCKIGN NEED U Y/N

[Minnie 12:43 p.m]: DO I NEEFD TO CARVE YIUR NAME INTWO MY CHEST TO MAKE YOU HAPPY????? 

By now, fat, hot tears were streaming down your face, dotting the screen of your phone. You eyed the last message you had received, an attachment sent at exactly 1 p.m. Sprinting out of the office without a single word to your superior or client, you frantically played the voice message Jimin had sent. His soft voice echoed in the corridor as you dashed down the stairs and towards the parking garage, filling your heart and mind with worry. 

‘Y/N, my love, my life, my everything,’ he began, his voice hoarse and cracking, likely from emotional duress.  ‘You’ve abandoned me, and I don’t blame you. I’m stupid, incompetent and a waste of space. You complete me, I am nothing without you. And now that you’ve left me, I have nothing else to live for.’  Fumbling around in your purse in search for your car keys, you finally found the object of your search and unlocked your car, hurriedly shoving the keys in the ignition and peeling out of the garage. You couldn’t bear listening to more of the voice message, instead choosing to dial Jimin with the assistance of your Bluetooth controls. Each one was immediately redirected to voicemail, but you persisted in the barrage of phone calls. 

What was no more than a 12-minute drive felt like millennia, your heart thumping so hard that you heard your pulse reverberating in your ears. You raced up the stairs of your unit, taking them two at a time, hoping that it wasn’t too late—pleading with any Higher, Holy beings to let Jimin be okay. Your hands trembled so furiously that it was nearly impossible to unlock your door until finally, you were somehow able to enter the threshold of your apartment. Greeted with nothing but an eerie silence, you began to fear the worst. 

Usually, when Jimin had a breakdown, he screamed and destroyed everything in sight, but all of your decor was exactly as how you’d left it in the morning. The only trace your husband’s presence was the shattered picture frame that lay discarded on the dining room table, a chunk of glass missing. Your eyes traced over the worn mahogany surface before they settled on speckles of blood. You scanned the perimeter, looking for any clues that could lead you to Jimin. Following the droplets, you were led to your balcony, which overlooked the Dongdaemun shopping district. The gentle purr of cars wafted through the ajar french doors, and perched on the balcony railing was a defeated, scarred Jimin. He hadn’t noticed you, at least, not yet. But you noticed him and his current state. Arms streaked with blood— staining his pajama shirt and boxers a light pink— legs dangling idly from the metal railing as if he wasn’t four stories above a busy street, ready to plummet to his death. He looked content, serene, even. 

“Jimin, sweetie,” you choked, words catching in your throat at the sight before you. “What are you—” Before you had time to finish your question, Jimin lept off the railing and threw himself at you and into your arms. Violent sobs wracked his body as he clung to you, like a lost child would to his mother. “I th-thought you had l-l-left m-me,” your husband hiccuped. His hold on you was vice-like, and his wounds were, without a doubt, staining your blouse. “Why did you leave me,” he half-shouted, half-pleaded. “I lost control because of you. I almost ended it all for you.”

You found yourself at a loss for words. You didn’t consider your absence would affect Jimin so profoundly— to the point where he thought suicide was the only way to cope. You almost lost him; almost lost the love of your life. And it was all because of your selfish impulsiveness. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, knowing affection was the best way to calm him down. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” you cooed, tears pricking your eyes. “Please forgive me, I’m so, so sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you.” Your husband looked at you with those big, brown eyes that shone so brightly, so innocently. The eyes you loved dearly. 

“Promise?” He asked, his grip around you tightening slightly. “I promise,” you replied with a bittersweet smile. You knew that this would be the turning point of your marriage— you could never trust Jimin to be alone, not even for a few hours. You’d have to sacrifice your freedom, your career, to ensure his safety. But it was worth it just to see him live another day.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, alright Minnie?” He nodded meekly, letting you lead him towards the washroom so you could tend to his wounds, just like always. 

Time and time again, you’d be there to repair Jimin when he broke down, disregarding the fact that you yourself were the one that was crumbling under all the stress. After all, loving Park Jimin was an arduous affair.

[oldloveatz]

dance with me | san

— TYPE: prince!au, somewhat requested, princess!reader, fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2.8k

— SYNOPSIS: the annual grand ball takes place in your father’s palace, and on that night you meet a particular someone you become very interested in.

— MESSAGE: hi, i see that you’re getting so many requests so idk if you’re still accepting them but if yes, then i would like to request anything san related. it’s completely up to you to choose the plot, i just need more san scenarios in my life 😩 also, you’re such an amazing writer and my fav blog on tumblr so yeah, ty for taking your time to write for us!

— AUTHOR’S MESSAGE: so thank you for requesting a san scenario and thank you so much for reading all of my stuff im devastated ): but since you didn’t request anything specific, i took one idea from a few ideas i came up with and wrote it for san! please enjoy this omg im so sorry if it’s bad

you dreaded the grand ball your father throws annually. you had to get in a very tight corset (tight enough to constrict your lungs) and dance with strangers in some painful heels. on top of that, you had to wear a very tiring dress which you know your parents had picked for you to wear. it wasn’t that you hated the grand ball, you liked them, in fact. they were a bit socially tiring, however. you were constantly pulled left and right by your mother and father to introduce you to some family that you care less about. they weren’t even the same family you meet each year!

“a-are you sure you don’t want to wear your hair up for the ball?” your helper, elena, asked. she was verifying the clothes, shoes, makeup and accessories, hairstyle and even perfume that you’d be wearing for the ball. she offered to wear your hair up, but you insisted to not even touch your hair. “oh, your father-“

“i don’t care!” you exclaimed, which frightened her a little. “i’m sorry. but just sprinkle glitter in it, it’s fine.”

“i understand your frustrations,” elena said, pulling your velvet stool to sit down. and she was right, you were frustrated. frustrated that you had to wear whatever she was ordered to dress you in. “but, listen to me, dear. the ball will be a fun experience for you to meet other people.”

“oh, i meet so many people,” you cut in. “way too many people for my liking.”

all elena could do was sigh, thinking of another response to your remark. “alright, i’m not going to touch your hair. but you will wear your cor-“

“please, lose the corset,” you insisted. “if i breathe in that fucking-“

“language,” she warned. no wonder they soft-banned you from going outside. you were learning foul words from the people outside the castle you lived in, which was also alright because you liked them.

“well, if i breathe in a corset, either it will break or my ribs will,” you explained, hopefully it was enough to convince her to not put you in a tightly tied corset. god, you didn’t want to spend 45 minutes just putting on a corset. “and puncture my lungs, which you all do not want to happen.”

“alright, fine,” elena said, getting up from the raspberry-colored velvet stool to cross off the hairstyle and the corset from her list. “anything else you want to lose?”

“uh, yes,” you started, getting up from your king sized bed and beginning to pace across your shiny, marble floor. the reflection perfectly mimicked the ceiling, a clean tiled dark ceiling with gold intricates. the walls were white and the familiar intricates like the ceiling. you loved your room, in fact you spend a lot of time in your room. “i’d like to lose the heels.”

“but, darling they’re designer heels,” elena said, completely unfazed with the things you wished to not wear.

“so? my feet are murdered by the end of the day if i wore those heels,” you reasoned. the sound of scratches on her clipboard definitely fueled your victory, a smile playing on your lips. “and i think that’s it. yeah, that’s it.”

“rather plain, but simple,” she commented, clipboard in hand before heading for the door to leave. “lunch is ready, by the way.”

“oh, sweet.”

your darling parents discussed the ball for tonight, giggling to each other as if it was the first ball they had ever organized. your parents were the king and queen of the land, holding power but they take advantage of the said power by being kind to those who lived outside the castle. they were loved by many, which is why it was perfectly fine for you to step outside and spend the day out for hours. and you have done it.

after lunch, you bid your goodbye to go hang out with your friends (or non-royal as those who worked for your family would say). the village was a sight to behold, and you adored seeing paintings of talented artists that live within the village. you bought about fifty paintings, maybe more.

“y/n! i thought you said you weren’t coming by today?” your friend, jaehyun, asked, getting up from his spot and giving you a side hug.

you trusted jaehyun, he was the boy who helped you become comfortable with the world outside the walls of your castle. he introduced you to his friends, befriending the girls and the boys easily and connecting with them in an instant. jaehyun whistled at his friends, stealing their attention from the marbles they were playing with and running up to you and him.

“i wasn’t, but they let me go out today,” you told him with a smile. “i came to give you an invitation actually! i stole one from my parents, and you are invited to the ball tonight.”

you earned groans from the invitation, as for sure the others wanted to go too. you placed a finger on your lips, hoping to shush them and they did.

the enveloped was gorgeous. it was parchment-colored, beige and blotched. the sound that it makes when it gets touched was the most satisfying thing ever, and hearing jaehyun fumble with a fancy royal-like envelope was making you nervous. you didn’t want him to drop the letter. it was sealed by a custom-made wax and stamp for your family, and the wax was sparkling under the bright sunlight as it was mixed with gold particles. you did the honors of writing his name at the front, though calligraphy was difficult to do so you printed his name in your normal handwriting.

jaehyun lifted the flap carefully, hoping he wouldn’t ruin the wax at all and whispered a ‘yes!’ when he didn’t tear it apart. you snickered at his action, covering your mouth and the others mirrored your action. “what does the letter say?”

“it just says i’m invited to the castle,” jaehyun said, stuffing the letter back into the envelope in a delicate manner. he then slipped the letter into his pants’ pockets, patting it from the outside to make sure it wasn’t folded in any way. “i’ll see if i can go. i.. i don’t have anything nice to wear.”

“it’ll be lovely if you can,” you told him with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that it was okay if he couldn’t attend. “i won’t hate you if you couldn’t. plus i have all the time to come out here and hang out with you guys! a ball means nothing.”

you went back a couple of hours later to get ready for the ball, silently cursing in your head each step on the track on your way back. the guards opened the tall, dark oak doors for you and you stepped in, the sound of dry track silenced as soon as your shoes met the smooth, marble floor. the environment of the castle was much different than the village. the castle was huge, but echo-y and quiet - obnoxiously quiet. on the other hand, the village was small, but a lot of children run around and kiosks that contained things to catch attention from anyone. you liked both on some days.

“it is about time you returned from your trip,” elena said, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase with her iconic clipboard wrapped in her arm. she had been waiting for you to get home, rather patiently but as soon as she watched you enter through the tall doors, all of her contained patience went down the drain. “shall we get started then, dear?”

“do we have food? i’m quite famished,” you told her, hoping to get through with this excuse and stall. but, elena saw through your excuse and shook your head. you weren’t too hungry anyway, you hoped for the dress to be loose enough for you to eat later on. you and elena headed up the grand staircase, hand resting on the gold-engraved wooden railing for support as you made your way up in your room.

elena had sent you to the bathroom to take a long, refreshing bubble bath. so, you sat in the bathtub filled with bubbles that spilled over the tub. your eyes stared blankly at the white-tiled wall, ignoring the anxiety building up in your chest but also the excitement slowly mixing with the feeling. of course, you were excited. maybe there will be a cute boy you’d want to dance with, or other people you’d eventually want to meet. it wasn’t like you had a choice though, your parents will pull you left and right meeting families you didn’t even know existed.

your thoughts were disrupted by elena pounding her fist on the door, “hurry up, darling! we still have to get you in our dress!”

you stepped out of the tub, grabbing the beige towel sitting on a golden rack next to the tub and began patting it throughout your body and rubbing it around your hair to soak up any water in your mop of hair. you wrapped your body in your soft plush robe, tiptoeing back into your room where everything was set up around your vanity.

elyssio was standing by your vanity with a hairbrush with a smile on his face, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you wanted to do something simple for the night. you hoped elena told him, maybe that’s what the hairbrush is for. “hey, elyssio! it’s nice to see you again.”

“very nice to see you too, princess!” elyssio said, placing the big hairbrush down on the surface of the vanity that had been littered with various boxes filled with shiny and elegant jewelry. you looked over at the headless mannequin standing still a few feet away from the vanity, and you fell in love with your dress. it was everything you had dreamed of wearing. “your parents did a very good job picking your dress for the night.”

“they took note of how you reacted to each dress they picked for every ball occasion,” elena said, sitting on the velvet stool located at the foot of your grand bed. you smiled, taking the skirt-part of the dress in your hand, and god you were thankful the dress was just right for you. “so, do you want to get the hair and makeup out of the way or get in the dress first?”

the process of the get-up ran faster than you thought, as you were in the empty hallways wandering with your dress on complete with the slightly elevated flats, waiting for the ball to start. it was 7:15 in the night, and guests were expected to pile in the grandeur room for the ball. you wanted to kill time, so you went into the kitchen to see what kinds of hors d’oeuvre and appetizers they had for the guests.

“kingston, what are you cooking for tonight?”

“hey! you’re not supposed to be here!” kingston pushed you out of the kitchen. “we don’t want you smelling like the food. you’ll see them when it’s out.”

you wandered the walls again, deciding to head to the library to kill time by reading the big books you had been putting off to the side. you’ve read the the smaller ones, at least. you grabbed the nearest big binded book in sight and sat yourself down on the velvet chair, opening up the hard cover and reading the very first page. you thought that you’d just fall asleep, assuming it’d be a boring book mostly about the geography of the earth, but that really wasn’t the case.

you had been in the castle’s library burning through time by reading the book you had grabbed, clearly and deeply into the topic of geography. what was it about the book that made the concept of geography so interesting? you were so into the book that you hadn’t realize the ball started. you wouldn’t have known if elena hadn’t gone in the library to tell you.

the room was filled with many people, a few minutes in when it started. more and more citizens and visitors made their way through the door, hearing a lot of ‘woah’s and such. as the usual, you were introduced to royal families. handshakes and smiles and nods had already gotten you worn out, but you carried on.

you pranced to the food section, grabbing a ceramic plate decorated with faint pink flowers and gold specks all around it and began walking down the table to see what the chefs had to offer. you ended up not bothering to ask what food is what, whatever looked good to you - you took it.

“that’s a lot of food you’re getting there,” a voice said from behind you. upon turning around, the owner of the voice must be an angel. he was a bit tall, he had the eyes of the fox and cheekbones made from the greek gods and goddesses. he had think yet so pink lips, if he told you he was an alien you’d believe him. how could someone be so gorgeous? “are you the king and queen’s daughter?”

“u-uhm, yes- yes i am,” you stuttered, moving on along down the table. you glanced at what he was wearing, and gosh was he a gem. the only difference between his suit and the other young boys in the room was he was adorned in gold chains, from head to toe. even his ears were littered with gold. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he replied. you took note of how nice his voice sounded in your ears, you wanted to hear more of him. “i don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“yeah, i don’t think so either,” you responded, reaching the end of the table and standing off to the side. you wondered if you should wait for him and talk more. “i’ll see you around..?”

san turned his head from the bread and butter presented in of him, flashing a small smile in his face that made your heart thump like a rabbit’s foot. he nodded, “you will.”

you sat down to eat, fending off your parents’ random arm grabs to leave you alone because you were eating. you sure got a lot of food, some of it you didn’t even get to finish at all. maybe you were rushing to find him, maybe that was it.

“you’re done eating, princess?” elena asked, dabbing on a handkerchief to her lips to get rid off of the sauce from the spaghetti. you nodded, dusting off any food on your dress and yourself to make sure you don’t make a fool out of yourself when you see san again. you checked your hair too. “you look great, sweetheart. go out there and dance.”

“thank you, i will!” you hopped off the platform which your table had been on top of and began to walk around, simply disguising it as meeting other families and attendees, but you only wanted to look for san.

you found him in a group of girls, gushing and poking his gold-adorned suit as they giggled so loudly. you didn’t think much of it and approached san, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. he swiveled around, a smile creeping on his face as if he knew you’d come to him.

“oh my gosh, it’s the princess..”

“winnie, shut up..!”

“hey,” he greeted with his cute smile. you noticed his dimples, smiling even more at this. “i knew you’d come see me.”

you blushed, knowing that he had known you’d come for him. “uhm.. yeah.. so-”

“does the princess want to dance with the prince?” he asked, the girls behind him muttering to each other and gasping. your eyes peeked at them, before training them on san. his hand reached out to you, offering it for you to take and dance with him.

you took his hand, and in an instant he led you to the dance floor among other pairs dancing with each other. he grabbed your other hand, placing it on his shoulder and attaching his hand onto your waist. your hands still intertwined together when he offered you his hand. you got the idea that he must be a romantic person.

“where have you been all my life?” you whispered, eyes so lost in the void of his eyes. a smirk appeared on his lips, that later transformed into the sweetest smile you have ever seen. you just thought out loud, and felt so embarrassed that you said that to him. but.. san didn’t mind. “i’m sorry i said that.”

“i was just going to ask the same thing,” he said, his eyes were soon beginning to fill the dark void with adoration, like falling in love at first sight. “i’m glad you came to me tonight.”

jaehyun witnessed them dance together to the slow and perfect classical melody, his heart slowly falling off of its place. he left the venue, knowing that she was never interested in him in that way in the first place.

[jiminshoney]

Where You Belong (Part 3)

Word Count: 10,773

Warnings: language, cheating, brief mentions of black mirror’s black museum episode (spoiler ig if you haven't seen it?), a cliffhanger, and angst but you knew that

[ tumblrs a jack*ss and links are broken, pls check my blog to catch up on the first three parts ]

Your body betrays you by waking you up agonizingly early, before your alarm has rung and before the sun has even had a chance to rise. The glaring numbers on your phone reveal that it’s barely 5 AM. You groan into the cushions beneath you, frustrated because you have to be at work in three hours and you were just robbed of a potentially meaningful last hour of sleep.

Opening a single eye to look back at the device’s bright screen, you can’t ignore the top notifications which continue to blink and beg for your attention. 15 missed calls and a somewhat impressive 28 unread texts all from Jungkook. It’s more than he sent in the month alone.

Your first thought is to ignore them, you want to ignore him, it’s too early to even think about processing what he has to say or replaying last night’s events. A sharp pain spreads through your chest, stretching until it meets your rib cage where there lies an almost forgotten void. There’s always those few seconds the morning after something terrible has happened, a moment of ignorant bliss, until your mind and heart remember and everything hurts again. The ache reminds you why last night went the way it did.

You don’t know that you can handle whatever he has to say, though you are curious...

Curious if someone who’s still in love and terrified of losing their girlfriend sends 28 texts and calls 15 times. Is that what it meant? Was he scared, desperate, remorseful? Or did he only offer a pathetic apology in twenty-something streams of the word sorry?

Driven by curiosity, you press a thumb to unlock your phone and open all the unread messages from last night.

From: jungkook♥ [5:19 PM]

Y/N

Can we please talk about this?

can you jus t come back please??

From: jungkook♥ [5:21 PM]

hello?

Y/N please answer

From: jungkook♥ [5:22 PM]

please pplease please

From: jungkook♥ [5:27 PM]

Where did you go

????

Im outside just tell me where you are

From: jungkook♥ [5:30 PM]

If not can tou answer?

Please answer the phone

From: jungkook♥ [5:32 PM]

fuck

Hello? Where did you go

Tell me where you are

From: jungkook♥ [5:33 PM]

Its fine if you decide to hate me for the rest of your life btu let me talk to yo about this first

Just give me a chance to explain everything

I mean there is no excuse but i wanna talk about this

From: jungkook♥ [5:35 PM]

pick up!!

From: jungkook♥ [5:37 PM]

I am begging you rn justsay something

Im outside, Please?

From: jungkook♥ [5:40 PM]

If its too soon i get it just  let me see you for a second

If its too soon just tell me

but atleast tell m where you are?

From: jungkook♥ [5:45 PM]

Do you want the apartment? I’ll leave nd get a hotel

From: jungkook♥ [5:50 PM]

???

ffs just let me know you’re safe ok?

Please thats it

From: jungkook♥ [9:36 PM]

I love you y/n. Whenever you see this, you don’t have to call me back jus let me know that you’re somewhere safe alright?

  “You love me? Right.” After a click of your tongue you chuck the phone back onto the table. Out of sight, out of mind, you think with a throw of the blanket over your head.

His messages didn’t offer any relief, all they’ve done is overwhelm and mildly irritate you because he acts as if you at least owe him the status of your location and quite frankly- you don’t owe him shit.

How dare he act worried about you and have the nerve to type out that disingenuous four-letter word like- I know you just found out my coworker sucked my dick but goodnight, love you. The audacity! Why should you have to tell him where you ran off to when he cheated on you and hid it for a week? Oh so well, as one may add, because there hadn’t been a sliver of suspicion. Had Taehyung not even been a factor, would he have ever told you? It’s unlikely and no one will ever know. It’s possible that he may have after much much time had passed, so maybe you’ll possibly tell him that you are in the safe confines of someone-who-actually-loves-you’s home… after much much time, of course.

All of this quickly reminds you that you don’t have any of your things. Your hygiene products, clean work clothes, fresh underwear, makeup, etc. You didn’t even have your purse after abruptly leaving your apartment.

A frustrated groan escapes you because now you must figure out how you’ll properly get ready for work the way you normally do. The last thing you wanted was to go back and run into Jungkook. Some days he left bright and early at 5:30 AM and you can take your chances and hope it’s one of those mornings, but it could just as likely be a day he’s decided to sleep in until 8. His app is finished so he shouldn’t have any standing reason to go in early, if not for the fact that he missed nearly a week of work, so he may. The odds were 50/50, it’s better to not risk it.

There’s also the option to call out of work, to stay in and sulk until an hour that he absolutely couldn’t be home, pack all your things and run away to a small town where nobody knows you until things get better. While tempting, you’re realistic and know that you cannot just uproot your life because you’re sad. The mere thought of having to go out and put on a brave face in front of the world today while you felt broken inside was tiring in itself, but sulking seemed exhausting. It wouldn’t make you feel any better, so you might as well go on like it’s any other work day. You could just shower here, pull your hair in a bun, stop at a Target for clothes and other necessities on the way and everything would be fine. At least you’d be able to busy your mind with something other than the fact the love of your life shit on a three year relationship for another woman no less.

-----

Around 9 AM, your work phone rings loudly against the desk. It sends your heart racing into a frenzy because the only person who ever called was your boss, and she only called for impromptu staff meetings or more specifically- to fire someone.

“Y/N~” To your surprise, the lobby receptionist’s voice sings at your pickup.

“Hyerin, good morning!” You smile, thankful that you aren’t losing your job too.

“You have a guest down here waiting for you.”

“What..?”

Your poor heart doesn’t get a chance to relax, there was only person who came to visit you at work. A person who shouldn't be visiting you right now.

“Mhmm! He brought you coffee~!”

“He?” Your jaw clenches, there could be no way. Jungkook could not be ridiculous enough to show up to your job first thing in the morning. He specifically said he understood if it was too soon for you! Why is he doing this?  “I-- tell him I’m not in today!”

“He would know I’m lying!” Her hushed voice scratches against the receiver, tickling your eardrums uncomfortably.

“Then tell him I’m busy.”

“But he’s being so patient,” She says, her once melodious voice becoming sympathetic. “Shall I have him wait a few minutes?”

“Just tell him I don’t wanna see him, okay?”

“Oh but Y/N! I said he brought you coffee! Don’t be impolite and just come down, okay?”

Her end briefly goes silent before the endless dial tone beeps to indicate she’s hung up before you could utter another excuse. You mentally curse her because her greatest quality is that she’s the kindest person on earth, but her worst quality is that she’s the kindest person on earth and can’t tell unwanted guests to go away. In her defense, she doesn’t know that your boyfriend has been unloyal and you have a very valid reason for not wanting to see him.

On the way downstairs you are fully prepared to pour coffee over Jungkook’s head and curse him out for showing up to your place of work uninvited under the current circumstances. It’s disrespectful and he’s crossing a line by being here, you couldn’t wait to send him on his way. He couldn’t force you to talk if you didn’t want to. Though, that reaction would surely cause a scene. You will instead kindly let him know he’s being unprofessional and ask him to leave.

You practice the words again and again, it’s a must in order to not break the moment you face him. After all, the last time you saw him you were a bawling mess with mascara smearing on your fingertips and telling him you hated him while feeling like you might pass out. You couldn’t be the weak one this time.

Walking down the hall from the elevator your heart is still racing but you feel a sense of confidence even if it’s mild and fake, you’re just ready to get it over with. He’s leaning up against the front desk, distracted in a conversation with Hyerin as you approach. Heart thumping, the back of his head becomes clearer, strands of ash brown hair…

Your feet freeze against the marble flooring, “Taehyung?”

He swiftly turns at the sound of your voice, shoulders visibly relaxing when his eyes land on you. “Hey!” He pauses to turn, grabbing two concealed drinks off the edge of the reception desk, and closing the gap as he walks to you. “You left without saying anything.”

You should feel relieved but your mind and body hadn’t aligned, heart still shaken up over thinking he would be someone else. “Y-yea… I’m sorry. I left you a note, it was really early.”

“Oh! My fault, I didn’t see it. I came to make sure you’re okay.” He quirks a brow, letting you know his statement is indeed a question.

Not well given everything that’s happened, but that’s obvious. It wasn’t lunch time yet so it was possible in a few hours you’d be ready to slam your head into a wall but you’ve survived so far.

“I’m fine, Tae.”

His lips fall to an exaggerated frown, he is unconvinced and unimpressed by your attempt to not even sound dry. “How are you really, Y/N?”

You sigh, he would not be Taehyung if he didn’t at least try to get more from you. “Well… I’ve already cried once at my cubicle, I’m wearing $3 concealer that does nothing for the bags under my eyes, I have a minor headache and I just nearly had a heart attack because I thought you were Jungkook but other than that I’m okay, really.”

“You cried?”

You open your mouth to speak but get caught on an answer. Maybe you shouldn’t have slipped that part out not only because it’s embarrassing but now he’d just worry more than you knew he was. But it’s too late and the confession was made.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

A month or so after Jungkook you’d also gotten a job, specifically the one you had now. Like Jungkook it wasn’t at all what you wanted to do. The first few weeks after graduating were hard, all of the places you really wanted to work just weren’t calling back or would immediately send the dreaded thanks but no thanks email. Your mom had forced you to stop being so nit picky and apply wherever you could, passively sending you links to job openings she would spot online herself. Eventually you scored a job in the corporate world- lucky enough to make a decent amount of money, get home early, and not work weekends. Not so fortunately, you were stuck in some boring entry-level position in a finance department. It was the last thing on earth you wanted to be doing but you’d felt obligated to take it because up until that point your parents were helping with rent and other money related responsibilities.

The only person who really knew how you felt back then was Jungkook. At first you claimed it was different, like you’d said to him then, at least he was doing something related to his dream career. But no, really, he got it. He understood the fear you had of not being able to move away from this, the weight of life’s responsibilities, the overwhelming desire to just do what the hell you were passionate about, he knew it all too well.

On your first day of work he printed one of the hundred-something selfies you two had taken on graduation day and bought a frame for you to prop on your desk. He’d told you not to peak and to assemble it once you got to work, obviously you didn’t and couldn’t resist temptation, and the surprise was a short note he wrote on the back.

Baby, Congrats !!!

I know you’re not excited but I will be excited for you because I’m really proud of you still. You always remind me that bad days are temporary when I complain about work, ha ha, I want to remind you that too. I know nothing is perfect right now, a lot of things suck, but you still have me. I look forward to the future because I still have you. We may not have our dream jobs but we have each other so hopefully we can live our dream life soon. Just hang in there!

I love you more than anything  - Jungkook

You couldn’t stop grinning the first time you’d read it. It was hard to find the words to say to him, hard to express your gratitude and how thankful you were you had him, you could only text him and say I love you so very much and that was enough for him.

Seeing that photo of your younger selves first thing in the morning was aggravating to say the least. You’d immediately slammed the frame down, picking at the back to take the pieces apart, intentions to tear the picture in half. But when you yanked it free from the slot and blue ink came to vision, you paused and read what he’d written less than a year ago. Tears were brimming before you realized. You didn’t have the guts to rip up the picture then, instead you shoved it in one of your drawers to be forgotten until you stumble upon it another day.

Taehyung looks at you worriedly, and it’s the same look he gave you yesterday before he turned your world upside down. A look you can now identify as the I-have-bad-news look.

“I saw Jungkook on my way here.”

“Okay?”

“He asked me if I’d heard from you.”

“Oh God... Taehyung please don’t tell me you told him I spent the night at your place.”

“I told him.”

“Why!? Why would you do that!?”

Hyerin’s only a few feet behind him, so as her head turns and her prying gaze briefly catches your eyes you glance around the two of you quickly, checking that no one else heard your brief outburst.

“I- I didn’t realize- I don’t know? I’m sorry?”

Taking a deep breath in you close your eyes to calm yourself. You don’t mean to yell at him, he hasn’t done anything wrong or gone against verbalized wishes. You know this. You’re just on edge, emotional, and you didn’t want Jungkook to know where you were.

“Is it because it’s me? You didn’t want him to know you were with me?” He asks.

“What? Taehyung, oh my God, no! It’s not about you.” You try not to raise your voice anymore, though you were sure you were probably scowling at him, annoyed with his assumptions.

“Forget I asked.” He’s good at keeping his voice level, manages to not react after you, but you can tell he’s just as annoyed with you when a muscle tenses in his jaw. “Which one do you want?”

He raises the two drinks in his hands, one’s holding a clear plastic cup with dark liquid chilled over ice, and in the other he has a large paper cup, presumably the same dark liquid but hot. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re being snappy with the wrong person. No matter how irritable you were, he didn’t deserve the back end of it. All he did was give to you, even now when you keep being rude to him.

“Tae, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just got upset because… I’m not ready to talk to Jungkook and I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“If you’re worried he’s gonna pop up on you, I don’t think it’s like that. He seemed really worried and I think he wanted to know you’re safe.”

Yeah, you think, that’s exactly what he said.

You finally take the hot coffee from his hand, finding a way to divert the conversation away from Jungkook.

“Thank you for this.”

“Of course. I have to leave soon. I’m shooting this guy for his acting portfolio. Then my friend is working a fashion shoot afterwards and invited me to help so I’m not sure when I’ll be done. I wanted to give you this.” With his free hand he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a shiny gold key. “Just got it copied.”

He smiles widely, giggling as you hesitantly take the key into your own hand. You don’t know why he’s gushing about this but it has butterflies floating in your stomach.

“Is this to your apartment?”

“Where else? I mean- this isn’t me asking you to be my roommate but... I wanted you to have somewhere to go even if I’m not home.”

“Tae! You didn’t need to go copy a whole key I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

-----

Taehyung’s apartment is empty when you get there after work, and while it’s not surprising because he did say he had work you still feel disappointed. Leaving work you were eager to get some alone time, but not like this.

All your coworkers actually showed up today, and being that it was the day after New Year’s, everyone wanted to talk about how great their New Year went. The universe was making a mock out of you, you were sure of it. A few of the girls priorly knew about your plans with Jungkook and had hopeful heart eyes as they asked about the cruise, and while the actual night was fine, yesterday was not something you even wanted to think about.

You’d always find a way out, excusing yourself to go make copies or apologizing because “I really need to finish writing this report.” Your sweet coworkers, they understood. Saying, “Right, I need to respond to a few emails” before running back to their own cubicles and leaving you alone. That is until a new question popped in their mind that’d have them strolling back over.

You were the only woman in your office with a standing long-term relationship, they all loved to live vicariously through you while struggling with their own love lives. You knew you’d break their hearts when you’d finally have to tell them the truth. At least for today, you omitted that bit of the story. Not only for their sake, but also for yours. It’s embarrassing to say the least.

You’re not sure yet what it says about you to be someone who got cheated on. Will people wonder what you did to push him that far? Will they pity you? Will they figure you must be a bad girlfriend and did something wrong?

Did you do something wrong?

Making your way to the kitchen you decide to scavenge Taehyung’s fridge for something to eat. Your stomach started grumbling a few hours ago after you made the silly choice of skipping lunch. Looking back, you’re not sure why you did because the persistent headache you’ve had since morning is likely due to the fact that you haven’t ate anything. Unfortunately for you and your pain his fridge is empty of anything edible, only stocked with a carton of milk, a pack of bottled water and a single bottle of wine.

“How do men survive like this?” You mutter, deciding to at least continue to hydrate your organs if you couldn’t feed them. You slump onto a chair at his small dining table thinking, Jungkook’s fridge would also look like that if it weren’t for me.

Across from you, his shiny macbook seems to wave hello, and beyond that you notice his camera bag is on the chair. If his camera is here then he can’t be at a photo shoot right now. Unless his friend told him not to bring it, then again why would you tell a photographer not to bring their camera? It’s possible he’s already been home, but you haven’t a clue where he’d be now.

The laptop shimmers in the light, begging for your attention once more, quietly reminding you about the interesting contents it holds.

“I know.” You grumble aloud. More to yourself because you are aware it’s an inanimate object that can’t actually communicate and it’s your own conscious taunting you. Yes, the pictures, I know.

The tempting voice asks if you’re even a little bit curious, if there’s a small part of you that wants to know what Taehyung saw in Jungkook that night? How he knew it before you, how he knows when he doesn’t even really know. It’s in the pictures like he’d said, and you could easily pass your fingertips over the smooth surface, you could open the lid, you could see for yourself.

But wouldn’t that be an invasion of privacy? Snooping through his laptop while he’s not even here just to see the way Jungkook interacts with some girl feels selfish and wrong. He probably has a lock on there anyway.

Oh but dear, the laptop says, he wanted you to see them after all! You could look through his camera, they might still be there. Taehyung wouldn’t mind at all! You should check!

It’s tempting, you think back, but I don’t know…

Don’t you wanna see the face of the woman who he found room in his heart for?

The words are way too personal, a blatant throw back of Jungkook’s confession. Another reminder that you definitely aren’t talking to a laptop and this is just conflicting dialogue in your own head.

Maybe there is a part of you that wants to know. It’ll probably hurt but you won’t stop wondering if you never look. Even just once.

You move from one seat to the other, placing his bag onto the table carefully. You’re gentle as you pull the Canon from it’s compartment, the weight of it shifting into both palms reminds you that if you do anything wrong your friend just might kill you because this baby costs (literal) thousands.

Thankfully, as the camera comes to life his, presumably, last photo taken appears on the small square screen which means you don’t have to press a million buttons just to find what you’re looking for. You scroll through the first photos, dozens of group shots of people wearing different hot pink garments, wondering briefly what the photo shoot was for. Eventually you land on close up photos of a younger guy, the head shots for Taehyung’s friend, you’re close. Until finally, there’s a photo of an older man and woman holding two thumbs up, the festive backdrop giving away they’re at a holiday party.

This is it.

You take a moment before continuing to scroll, preparing yourself mentally because you aren’t sure when you will finally land on a picture of the two in search, but you will reach them and when you do, you must contain your emotions.

It’s fine, it’ll be fine.

Moving on, you’re slower this time, carefully scanning each passing photo to be sure not to miss Jungkook. The first few ones, or rather last several, are group shots with the same old man as before, until they become more candid.

The first time you spot him, he’s in the background giving some guy a hug.

There’s another photo of him at a table, not alone, but not speaking to anyone. He’s completely unaware that he’s being captured in the background which makes his oblivious doe-like daze a little adorable. He’s so cute, you think. Also oblivious to the smile that’s perked on your lips.

That is until you skip to the next photo and noticeably feel it drop when you finally see her. Somehow, you just know. There’s a second woman in the photo who seems to be talking with her hands, Lia’s smiling and making eye contact, but Jungkook’s eyes are on Lia.

You pass it, moving onto something else. There’s another. This time, they’re the focus of the photo, sitting at a table with another you haven’t met, all engaged in laughter.

You skip a few more, until the next one with them is again in the background. He’s smirking but you can’t see her face because she’s sat at an angle and her hair’s in the way.

The next photo is captured from behind, but you know it’s them because of her red dress and the fact you can recognize Jungkook from any angle by now. One arm around his shoulder and her head leaning into him, what warranted her to come this close?

You pass many, many more photos until you see them again. A posed picture, with the same guy from the laughing one, and like this you can really get a good look at her. You’re not too prideful to admit that she is beautiful and she holds an enticing look in her eyes. Maybe that’s her special feature, but other than that what’s special about her? Past the pretty face and perfect smile, what separates her from you? What was there under her surface? How’d she win over Jungkook?

The next pictures you go through are mostly boring, just photos of everyone at the party eating and conversing. But there’s one common factor in all of them with Lia and Jungkook, he was always looking at her. Most of the time smiling while he did so. And most of that time, she was looking at him too.

There’s something obvious there, that maybe Taehyung also saw, they have a connection. That, even if you hadn’t known him, you would think they had something going on too with all the ridiculous googly eyes. But with that, because you know him, there’s something else you see- That he is absolutely fascinated by her, drawn to her, intrigued. Whatever special thing she possessed, he’s latched onto it and it’s pulled him away from you.

Tears begin to well and you have to set the camera down to wipe them away harshly. It’s annoying, this marks the third time today, and if you let yourself cry now it’ll only worsen your headache into a migraine. You don’t want to cry over him, he doesn’t deserve it. Crying means you care and well, obviously you care. You love him, but he doesn’t deserve that either. Why should you still love him after what he’s done to you?

It’s useless to keep rubbing your eyes, your knuckles pointlessly tug the skin just for them to become wet again. You didn’t want to cry but your body was intent on releasing it’s frustration.

It’s not fair that after so much time together this other person just gets to come in and move his heart- quite literally, like he said, making room inside of it. It’s not fair that just two months ago he said to you he couldn’t see himself with anybody else just to fall for another girl who knows how long after. Maybe it’d happened before he even said it. The fact that he was willing to explore how he felt about her should’ve been a dead giveaway that he was in denial at the time. Maybe you were too.

Could it be that she’s the reason your relationship spiraled in the first place? After he started work that’s when the distance between you two started to extend. There were a lot of other things you thought it could be. You thought he was depressed over the new job, closed off from you because he was closed off to the world. And at the time, you tried your best to be the optimistic one.  You tried to lift his spirits and be encouraging but maybe it wasn’t enough. Where did you go wrong? Where did you fail at making him happy?

Why weren’t you enough?

You desperately want to know what it is about her- what is it that Lia has and you don’t?

Is it all because he felt you weren’t reciprocating his efforts to fix things? Maybe you didn’t try hard enough. You should’ve done more- you should’ve been more affectionate and caring. You should’ve loved him better.

You flinch at the soft thud of the door closing, jumping out of your seat because it’s startled you. It’s just Taehyung, standing there silently with a harsh expression of worry.

“You were crying.” He says plainly, a hint of guilt in his tone.

“No.” You lie, wiping your face once more and forcing a laugh.

He shakes his head as he makes his way to you, setting a white to-go box on the table before standing in front of you.

“You think I’m stupid? Your eyes are red.” His voice is unnecessarily gentle as he cups your face in both hands, thumbs wiping away left over traces of tears. The sound of his voice alone makes your entire chest warm- you hate it. “Also, I saw you.”

“I’m fine.” You push his hands away because his affections are way too much for your weakened heart to handle. He seems displeased. “What’d you get?”

He glances at the table and then back to you. The pierce of his brown eyes makes your lungs constrict, even his gaze is difficult to hold.

“Fried chicken. You saw the pictures?”

“O- y-yea…” You force yourself to look away- if you breathe properly maybe you can talk without sounding like a moron. “I’m really sorry for going through your things I just got curious and I shouldn’t have but that’s-”

“It’s okay, Y/n.” He assures you, “Are you okay?”

Your mouth forms to say yes and he already knows the lie to come, fixing his question before you can.

“I mean you’re not okay. I’m asking if you wanna talk about it.”

“It’s okay.” There were too many layers to uncover, between your emotions and the pictures and your anniversary and what really happened at that party, “It’s a lot.”

He shrugs at your words like they don’t matter, “I’ve got some time. And I’ve got food.”

“Tae-”

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m just confused. But I don’t want to ramble and get upset.”

“Why are you confused?”

“I just… I don’t understand Jungkook. I don’t understand why he likes that girl. I don’t understand why I wasn’t good enough.  I don’t understand why he was so good to me if there was someone else, even after what happened, all the way until I found that he fucking let her-” You stop there, unsure what words to use to explain what happened other than the disgusting frank description that was there in your mind. Your stomach was already churning, you couldn’t say it.

“He let her…?”

“They… you know…” You vaguely wave your hands between your bodies, back and forth from the direction of your mouth to his crotch, hoping he caught on to the innuendo and wouldn’t force you to be explicit. He’d already successfully tricked in you into saying more than you originally wanted to.

“Ahh, wow um…” Surprised, he understands, but uncertain with himself if that’s really what you meant. If only he knew just how bad it gets.

“Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright, alright.” He holds his hands up defensively, letting the topic go at once.

At some point over the last few months he’d stopped being passive and tried harder to pry information out of you when you were being closed off. Not too forcefully, but it was silently appreciated. You’d become grateful for his willingness to listen to whatever was weighing on your mind no matter the topic, it was always followed with thoughtful responses and advice. Now though, it’s a bit more frustrating. Something about this was different. This was not something that was easy to open up about and you wished he would say OK and let it be.

You know there’s an elephant in the room and at some point the healthy thing to do will be talking about it and having that conversation with him, your closest friend, but today wasn’t it.

He makes his way to the farthest side of the table, “Well, I’ll have to eat dinner with you quickly because I have to go check on a tenant downstairs. Their heater isn’t working and as you can imagine in the middle of winter they aren’t happy about it.”

“If you have business to take care of it’s fine. I need to go back to my apartment anyway to grab some things before Jungkook gets home and then find a hotel somewhere.”

“You’re being ridiculous, you don’t need a hotel. And you should at least eat first.”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry.” Your prolonged headache would beg to differ but you didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. You’re not sure how to respond to his first remark because it’s obvious you don’t have anywhere else to stay. You’d stay here, but only if he offered. You weren’t going to ask since you had no plan and it’d be quite the favor to ask someone to crash at their place for an indefinite period of time. “Ah, also, I don’t have my key… would you mind helping me get in?”

“Not at all.” A moment of silence drags on for a minute too long as he stares at you sadly, worrying his bottom lip, until he speaks up again. “You sure you don’t want to eat something?”

“I’m sure.”

With that, he heads over to the cabinet below the kitchen sink and pulls out of a bulky rectangular safe. Upon unlocking it there’s nearly a hundred keys organized on rows of hooks- a key to every room in the entire complex. He plucks yours straight from the center and then begins to count towards the bottom before he pulls another one.

After locking everything back up and putting it in it’s discreet place he places the keys in your hands silently. One reads 503, the other 705.

“What is this?”

“There’s a furnished room on the top floor. It’s clean, it’s got running water and it’s all yours.”

“Huh?”

“We only use it for tours because it has extra square footage compared to the other one bedrooms- don’t tell anybody that. Also, please do not lose these because if Mr.Lee finds out I’m doing this-”

“I understand!” You sputter, gripping the cold metal tightly. “Thank you, Taehyung.”

He beams at you, “It’s no problem. You still have a key here so don’t feel like you’re not welcome to visit.”

To visit, right, not to stay.

You weren’t going to ask him, no, but you do feel disappointed that he hadn’t offered. And maybe that’s selfish of you to think considering he’s risking his job just to offer you a private place of comfort and here you are wondering why you can’t stay with him.

You can’t help but feel this is his subtle way of getting rid of you, which is fair, your moodiness is probably annoying. Still, he’s being nothing but kind and going out of his way for you, and yet for some reason it’s all making you sad.

-----

It’s been exactly 10 days since you’ve seen Jungkook, which is impressive considering you both return home to the same complex every day and have yet to cross paths. For the first time ever you were thankful for the difference in your schedules, by now assuming that he was likely back to his usual 10 AM to 6 PM shift and that’s why you two hadn’t. But, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t wish to see him every day.

There were countless times you had to stop yourself from calling him, thinking I just want to see how he’s doing. In the morning, on the way to work, in the evening, on the train, at night- especially at night, especially when you had to lay in bed alone. Other times you instinctively pressed for 5 on the elevator, only remembering you were on the wrong level when the doors opened to familiarity, you would consider for a moment getting off and just going back home, but deep down you knew better than to make that mistake. Your self control was also impressive.

In your own defense, your moments of weakness were absolutely valid, you two had been inseparable since that first day of sophomore year over three years ago, you never went more than two days without seeing each other. Well, that’s not entirely true. There was the winter break before you started dating, and his family’s week long vacation two summers ago, but you still talked every day so it’s not the same.

This last year in particular your lives were built around each other- you freaking moved in together. Every day for a year you woke up and he was there, you went to sleep and he was there, right next to you. Even your body knew that something was missing as it tossed and turned at night, falling asleep had become difficult. Unless you cried, but you tried to minimize that to every other day.

The spacious apartment did not help your loneliness either, you tried to find comfort and treat it like a get away, but really it was unfamiliar and lacked personal touch. You didn’t even feel like a guest in someone else’s home, the space felt outside of reality, outside of your norm.

The only time things didn’t feel so odd were when you were with Taehyung. In his space he provided the consistent comfort you craved. The only problem was that the past week just so happened to be a week he was packed with gig after gig after gig. He’d been very busy with his photography and while he did his best to call you throughout the days and make sure you were simply surviving, the physical time you spent together had dwindled down significantly. Another hard pill to swallow since you’d gotten used to seeing him every day too.

Your loneliness was becoming suffocating.

Thankfully tonight some of the girls from your job made dinner plans that you were included in, which turned into an impromptu trip to a nearby karaoke bar afterwards. It was a nice break away from your usual routine to go out and spend time with friends rather than sitting inside alone on a Friday night. It was also the most you’d laughed all week.

Your plan for when you got back to the apartment complex was to go straight inside, change out of your work clothes, quickly go through your bedtime routine before your mind had a chance to start wandering through every reason you had to be sad, and go to sleep. That all becomes impossible the second you step into 705 and are welcomed by it’s freezing cold draft, it feels like you’ve just stepped back outside into the winter night.

The thermostat claims the heat is on, set to 70 degrees, but the current indoor temperature reads as 42 degrees fahrenheit.

“Jesus Christ, not me.” You groan at the ceiling, letting your bag thump to the ground before bending over to fish for your cell phone.

To: Tae [9:42 PM]

Please tell me you’re home :(

You hold the phone in your hand for a few minutes, waiting for his message to pop up on the screen but his reply is not immediate. You begin to worry because he’s typically a quick responder as long as he’s not working, and though it’s late maybe he was still at a shoot, or he also decided to go out tonight. Either way, you’d have to figure out what to do because there was no way you could sleep in this place tonight.

From: Tae [9:47 PM]

I’m here

Sorry about that I was making tea

what’s up angel?

A-Angel?

You’re not sure that he’s ever called you that before and don’t know where it’s come from and your face may be heating up at the pet name but there’s more important matters at hand.

To: Tae [9:48 PM]

Uhh hate to bother you but… I think the heaters broken

 From: Tae [9:48 PM]

Nooo You’re the third person this week :(

From: Tae [9:49 PM]

I’m sorry, do you wanna sleep here?

Do you even have to ask?

---

When you arrive downstairs moments later he welcomes you in with a tight hug, as if it’s been months since he’s seen you but it’s only been three days. Regardless, the affection is much needed as you’ve been deprived of all physical forms, you feel yourself wanting to reach back out as he pulls away.

“I still have hot water, do you want me to make you some tea?”

“Hm, I’m okay, but thank you.” You were still fairly stuffed from dinner and the several virgin margaritas you enjoyed during karaoke.

Leaving your bags in the living room, you follow his path into the kitchen. Sure enough, there’s a kettle on the counter next to a small box and mug, he moves quickly to clean up the small mess and put things back into their place.

“Well since you’re here, do you want to watch a movie or anything? I think there’s a new episode of that weird sci-fi show you like.”

“First of all if you’re talking about Black Mirror, it’s not weird, but yes there’s a new interactive movie.”

He glances back to roll his eyes at you before dusting scraps into the trash bin. “You made me watch an episode where they trapped someone’s consciousness into a teddy bear… it’s a little weird.”

“There was so much to take away from that episode and that’s still all you talk about!”

When season four had first come out, you and Jungkook nearly finished it within a week, but life got in the way and you never got a chance to finish. One day you decided to just complete the season without him and enjoy the finale with Taehyung who’d never seen the show. You thought it’d be fun, thinking he’d provide insightful commentary, instead, he couldn’t get passed how cruel it was a character couldn’t express sadness beyond “Monkey needs a hug.”

“Would you rather talk about the guy who literally got off on murdering someone?”

“He-- no, please.”

He’s smiling as he walks back over to you and you can’t help but giggle because okay it is kind of weird and maybe you should’ve chosen a different episode to introduce him to but it was still really good!

“I’ll let you show me another episode, preferably one less dark.”

For whatever reason, he pulls your head against his chest to rest his own atop yours and wraps you back into his warmth. This time your heart immediately starts to race, nervous about the random affection, though your arms don’t hesitate to wrap around him either.

“It’s okay, I actually just wanna go to sleep.”

“Oh… okay...” He holds you tighter, sounding a bit disappointed.

You squeeze him back, a way of silently apologizing. You expect him to pull away then, but he doesn't, and neither do you because even with a jumping heart being like this was too comfortable. He was always so warm, and so cuddly, and his clothes always smelled like lavender. Which would confuse your brain at first when you’d get a whiff of him, the light fragrance so contrasting to that of your favorite- a warm blend of citrus notes and amber on Jungkook- but you also adored whatever floral fabric softener Taehyung used because you found it calming. In fact, you could stand here forever because the combination of all he had to offer was that relaxing. So relaxing that you can’t help but ask-

“Tae…” You release your hold so that you can step back and look at him but he doesn’t let you go, only slides his hands to the lower part of your back providing enough space for eye contact, responding with a yes? “Can I… sleep in your bed tonight?”

“I guess so? I don’t mind taking the couch.”

“No, I mean, with you.”

“Uh-” You catch the way his eyebrows almost raise with widening eyes before he can stop the reaction. You worry about the implications of your words.

“Unless it’s weird. Is that weird? I’m sorry.”

“No!” His hands abruptly fall away, swiping at the back of high thighs as he creates room between you two. “Not at all, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m- it’s just hard sleeping alone, you know?”

“Y-yeah, it’s alright.”

Not long afterwards, after you both had changed and freshened up, you found yourself sitting up in Taehyung’s bed with your back against the wall. It seems silly to you now that you’ve never slept together let alone even stepped foot in his bedroom. But before all this, things were different, and even though you’re only friends it definitely would’ve been inappropriate taking all things into consideration- Taehyung’s feelings, your relationship, maybe even your fleeting non-platonic thoughts about him.

Now, you don’t question it too much, it’s not inappropriate or weird. You’re the only one making it a little weird because you keep thinking about the fact that Taehyung still likes you, or at least you assume so, and that he could use this opportunity to make a move on you. Deep down you know he would never, he’s too respectable for that. Maybe you’d let him- ONLY because you’re vulnerable! He knows that. Which is why he shouldn’t, he’d be taking advantage of that. He won’t, but you still wonder if he will. Even as he rambles on about the earl grey tea his mom bought from Europe, a small yet very expensive Christmas present. There’s a reason why this French tea company is so special, but you wouldn’t know because see, you’re being weird.

How Jungkook would feel about all of this? What’s he up to anyway?

“Y/N? Are you listening to me?”

You’re startled by the sound of your name, but you nod furiously. “Of course, Tae. You were saying your mom and… amazing French company, great story!”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, “That’s how I know you weren’t paying attention. My mom bought the tea in France but it’s a Singaporean company!”

“Oh, see! I was close! I just missed that one little tidbit.”

He squints his eyes at you, knowing you’re telling a tale. Letting out an exaggerated sigh he rotates on his side to face you and props his elbow to rest his head in his palm. “Alright, what’s wrong? Spill the tea. No pun intended.”

“I know you’ll think I’m an idiot but I’m gonna say it. I miss Jungkook.”

“No I won’t!” He sits up fully in bed, seeing that the thoughts that plague you are deeper than he anticipated. He mirrors your image, crossing his legs before reaching to hold both your hands. “First of all you’re not an idiot and I would never think so little of you. It’s okay if you miss Jungkook, it’s expected. You don’t just forget about someone you love overnight or even within a week.”

Was that true, though?

“Why not? He did.”

Whether in the blink of an eye or months before you realized, he’d forgotten about you, forgotten what you meant to him, forgotten what you two had. Or is it that he didn’t love you anymore and that’s what made you so easy to forget?

“Didn’t I already tell you he’s a dumbass?” He grins, but you can’t find it in you to laugh, the insult doesn’t even make you feel the slightest bit better.

He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

“Do you want to save your relationship?”

Your hands pull away, not because of him, but almost as if to brace yourself for the weight of reality as you press them into the bed on either side of you. You hadn’t really thought about that, your thought process never got that far. Would Jungkook even want that?

“I don’t know that it's possible. Jungkook told me he likes Lia, and if that’s true, then it’s serious. He isn’t easily swayed by pretty faces.”

Taehyung snorts, “Who said anything about her being pretty?”

Your arch a brow at him, unsure if he’s trying to insinuate something. “Well I saw her, she is pretty but… that’s just it, that's not the point. He actually needs to get to know someone if he’s gonna pursue them. I told you before how in college there were so many girls interested in him and he didn't like any of them. Not even me. Not until he knew me.”

“And now he likes her…”

“Exactly.”

“But that’s not what I asked. Put him aside for a moment and stop thinking about what he feels. What is it that you want?” He asks, pressing a finger into your knee.

What I want? That is still a lot to consider. A lot that you haven’t gone over. You’ve only focused on the current distance between the two of you, and keeping it that way until you felt strong enough to face him. You’ve only gone through past memories, you hadn’t thought of what the future held nor what you wanted it to.

“I don’t know, Tae. It sounds ridiculous but I can’t envision my life without him. The idea of going back to him feels daunting because I don’t know how to forgive him for what he did or how to trust him after this. Or even, how I could allow myself to love him. I don’t have answers but it’s like if I don’t then what? Where do I go and who do I become?”

“You don’t become anyone, if not just a better version of yourself. You don’t need him to have a complete identity.”

“That’s easy for you to say-”

“I know it’s easy for me to say,” His rebuttal is sharp, almost defensive. “No I didn’t just spend the last three years of my life with someone just for them to shit all over our history, but I’m right. You were somebody long before you even met him and you will still be somebody without him, if you choose to let him go.”

“I know that, but it’s not just easy for me to say, okay, bye Jungkook, and go on and be content with being alone.”

“You think you’d be alone?”

“Well, yes?”

It all circles back to what you first said, you can’t envision life without him. Even if you try, there’s nothing there, you, but nothing more. Maybe that should be enough, but that blank image in your mind feels empty, life would be lackluster and dull, something would always be missing.

“That’s not true.” He looks down for a moment, finding a loose string on his comforter to tug on. “You have me.”

At that, and as his eyes finds yours, the air in the room starts to thicken. The statement feels too direct. You know he means that as a reminder of his loyal friendship, you know it’s his way of saying hey I’m here, but it feels like something more.

“As long as I’m alive, you’ll always have me.”

“Hm, like forever.” Your own gaze slips away this time, unable to stop yourself from chuckling at the boundless promise of his words. An older version of you may have believed him, a version of you that believes love is timeless, the version of you with a committed boyfriend. You want to believe him because Taehyung is honest, he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. But words like this have been spoken truthfully to you before and look where it’s brought you.

“Jungkook and I are not the same.” It’s almost embarrassing how well Taehyung knows you, how spot on he is about what you’re thinking. “There was a point in time Jungkook couldn’t even see you, he didn’t see you then and he doesn’t see you now. Me?” He stops himself, you can tell by his tone that he knows he’s crossing a line again, about to walk past usual boundaries, about to say something he couldn’t have said before today, but he says it anyway. “The way I’ve felt about you has never changed. Every day I still feel what I felt the day I first met you… Even when you’ve confused me, even when you’ve cursed me, even when you’ve pushed me away, even when you defined the line in the sand and made it clear we could never be more than friends, even when you don’t see me… I feel it. So yes, like forever.”

You’re too afraid to look at him because you think you might crack the way you once had months ago, when a flood of emotion for him overtook you, when you considered giving into him.

“And I’m not asking you to- I’m not saying anything other than I’ve come with you this far and… whatever you do, nothing's gonna change.”

You have no words for him, nothing coherent, at least for now. You nearly throw yourself at him, sprouting up from your position on the left side of the bed to wrap your arms around his neck. He reacts quickly, thankfully, because as he falls sideways onto the mattress with a huff you realize you could’ve sent him tumbling backwards to the floor which would’ve been bad for the both of you.

You feel the soft laughter rumble beneath his chest as he tightens his hold around you, “Thank you?”

You’re overwhelmed with both gratitude and frustration, so much so that you think you could cry. How did you get so damn lucky to have this man in your life? It wasn’t fair. Logically, and karmically, it was not fair. Even as he said and listed reasons he’s had to pull back, to change his mind, to drop you, he hasn’t. He genuinely loves and supports you unconditionally and you don’t know how the hell that happened or why but there’s one thing you are certain of.

You are more than lucky, you are blessed to have Taehyung. And you hope that this friendship is eternal because you can’t imagine having to lose him too.

----

“Do you remember the first time we ate here?”

“Of course I do.”

You’d spent the first half of your Saturday lounging in bed, or rather Taehyung’s bed, all by yourself because he’d had an early morning shoot for… something you don’t remember because you were half asleep when he’d said. You’d stayed that way for a while, grumpily, because you were starving and too lazy to go out and eat and too stubborn to order delivery. By lunch time when your hunger hit peak aggravation you sent him a very aggressive text message in all caps to PLEASE BUY SOME FUCKING GROCERIES YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE BREAD. He promptly responded with a slew of laughing emojis, then letting you know he was already ten minutes away and to meet him downstairs.

He’d taken you the short walk to the taco truck around the corner, the very first place you hung out, a very telling choice after what he said last night.

“You never did thank me for showing you the best taco place in town.” He flicks at his bangs dramatically, turning a shoulder to you in faux offense.

“That’s because it’s not. I mean, it’s good but my favorite is this restaurant up north.”

“Why have you never taken me then?”

“They closed down last summer.”

“Must not have been too good.” He looks at you pointedly, flicking at his silky strands once more. You raise a fist, pretending like you might hit him, though you’re laughing at his obnoxiousness.

“I promise, you would’ve loved it.”

Just then, a lady pokes her head out from the wide window, calling your name for your order. Taehyung is first to run over and grab the small bag, though you take it back from him, offering to carry it on the walk back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What was your first impression of me?”

“Oh…” His question comes as a surprise, but you don’t think much of it, reflecting back to the day last spring. The very first time you met. “I thought you were very polite.”

“What about the first time we ate back there?”

“Well,” That question takes a little bit more digging. You have to remember the things you talked about that night, how you felt, how he seemed. “You seemed so… so… normal. Like, before that, I guess I kind of put you on a pedestal, I don’t know. You just seemed so composed and confident and like you had everything together but then we talked and you opened up to me and it was like ah, we’re not so different. It was refreshing.”

You look over to him and smile, he smiles, but he keeps his gaze towards to concrete as you continue up the block.

“Why do you ask? What was your first impression of me?”

“That you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

You instantly stop in your tracks, it takes him a second to register but when he does the balls of his feet scratch against the gravel as he turns around.

“Stop it.” You say, squinting your eyes suspiciously at him because why is he trying to flirt and joke around right now it’s making me blush! “Tell me.”

“That’s it?” Even his eyes frown at you, confused why you won’t accept his answer.

You roll your eyes and push past him, taking a right at the corner as you continued ahead. His legs are long so it doesn’t take anything of him to catch up, and he asks why you don’t believe him.

“I thought you were attractive but I gave you a better answer than that.”

“Wait-” He takes a few skips to jump in front of you, forcing you to come to another stop as he blocks the way. “You thought I was attractive?”

“What? I said you were handsome.”

“No, you said attractive.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Oh my God, did I?

“I- it doesn’t matter, it’s basically the same thing.”

You step right, he steps left, you step left, he steps right, refusing to let you go around while he dons a ridiculous smirk that you try really hard not to look at.

“What!”

“Don’t you wanna know my first impression?”

“...yes.”

“Don’t judge me.” He points a finger at you, waiting on your nod before he continues, tucking his hand back into his coat pocket. “When we were standing in the elevator together, my heart was beating so fast because I was so nervous, but I thought you were mean! You kept giving me short answers and you glared at me when I was just trying to be helpful!”

“Come on, you asked me where I lived, give me a break.”

He giggles, “I was just nervous and talking out of order. But then you relaxed after I told you who I was, and you even laughed at something I said and…”

“And…?”

“I felt really warm. My heart, my insides,” One hand moves from the left side of his chest then down to his abdomen. You can see that he hesitates, biting on the corner of his lip nervously, but he looks back to you and sees the harsh expression on your face. “It’s stupid.” He forces a laugh and continues to walk home. You’re only about 10 yards away, the front entrance is visible not far beyond him.

He’s misread your reaction, misunderstood your furrowed expression. You weren’t frowning at him because of judgement or because you thought it was stupid, you were frowning out of pure confusion because he’d described the same feeling he’s given to you.

And it was so simple, such a simple feeling, a simple word. But, warm, yes, you understood. You felt it too that very first day, you felt it the first time you hung out. You feel it when he looks at you, when he talks, when he hugs you, just being next to him in itself was like sitting by a fire. You were never sure what it was or what it meant, you never looked too much into it, but if the sentiment was mutual shouldn’t you tell him you feel it too?

You run ahead to catch up, he’s still standing outside the door, presumably waiting for you to go inside.

Taehyung had said before that you always know what to say, but you disagree. Maybe when it comes to uplifting others kind words come naturally, but you aren’t good with words themself, at least not when it comes to sharing and expressing your emotions.

That is precisely why you cup his face into your hands as he turns to you, unbothered by the tacos that get smushed somewhere between your arm and his chest, raising onto the balls of your feet and pulling him down the distance you couldn’t close to press your lips into his.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re kissing Taehyung, or rather you can’t explain why. It’s impulsive but it feels right as that familiar feeling overtakes your entire chest, replacing the vacant ache you’d grown accustomed to over the last week and a half and overwhelming you with so much desire for more. And at first, he gives in to you. His gentle hands find your hips, head turning as his mouth opens in sync with yours to deepen the kiss.

In that moment you place words on the purpose. Kissing him said way more than your grateful hugs ever could, and that was all you’d done before. But this wasn’t even about saying thank you, this was about admitting that maybe you felt the exact same way. This was easier than facing the fact that there really was no reason to keep suppressing your emotions. But then he abruptly pulls away, eyes wide as he sounds frightened when he says your name.

Your heart sinks because he’s looking at you like you’ve just done something you should not have done. Heat creeps up over your ears, this time because you’re actually uncomfortable, completely embarrassed because maybe you just made a mistake.

Your open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out, stuck on shock, you don’t know how to even begin saying sorry.

“Jungkook is inside.”

Wait… what?

If you couldn’t speak before, you definitely couldn’t now as all the air escapes your lungs, frozen and unable to breathe. You want to believe that you heard him wrong, or that he didn’t even say Jungkook’s name. But you’re too terrified to even look and confirm. You still aren’t ready, you don’t know what feelings will come up just by seeing him. Worst of all, you don’t know if Jungkook just watched you kiss Taehyung and you cringe at the thought.

You look right, and sure enough, on the other side of the clear glass Jungkook stands there just feet away looking right at you. The way your heart picks up speed is almost painful, you can tell by the disgruntled look on his face he’s seen everything.

TBC

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

I’ve Read This Script

Summary: It always ended the same way. He really should have learned better by now, but he hadn’t. 

Notes: For the @secretsanders​! Happy Holidays, @im-not-leaving-my-room-fuck-u​!! Hope you enjoy my present!!

Also, yes, I forgot to put in a German translation, I’m sorry. I’ll explain what was going on there at the end, okay? :))

Title from Cleopatra by the Lumineers. Fight me, it works perfectly for this fic. 

Can’t think of any trigger warnings... maybe betrayal? Mention of death (of old age)? Some non-descriptive blood? That’s all I can think of... let me know if you see something else! On with the story!

He swore to himself that he would never fall in love again, not after last time ended in disaster and the complete shattering of Logan's heart for the fifth time in his extremely lengthy life. He should have known better, he should have known that Declan would only end in heartbreak, yet he foolishly listened to his heart and trudged onwards, deeper and deeper into a relationship founded on lies. Logan sighed and rested his head on his arms, leaning forward until the ribs were digging into his marble countertop. Colours and scents and sounds pushes against the barriers of his mind, and Logan groaned as he realized what was happening. After decades of this curse, he still triggered it because he couldn't handle his silly, illogical feelings. Logan gritted his teeth and shook his head, attempting to clamp down on the leaking memories of half a century ago. He couldn't risk going under, he had work in only a couple hours, he couldn't do this…

His brain, however, would not listen to logic or to his  pleas. These memories were determined to be acknowledged, to be remembered, to be seen, and Logan could not stop it, quickly losing the fight to the swirling technicolour vortex from his limbic system. He spiraled down, down, past kisses and missions, past stargazing and dinners, past betrayals and flashes of silver, and landed at The Beginning.

Lauren Johnson walked down the sidewalk towards her work, hurrying to her destination. She had awoken extremely late that morning, and while her employer would surely be fine with just this one instance of tardiness, Lauren did not wish to push. She was so focussed on her goal that she did not notice the change in traffic until she was tackled to the ground just before a loud screech cut through the air. She managed to push the person off of her and look around, her breath freezing as she took in the destruction before her. A car was flipped on its roof, flames streaming from the shattered windows. People were screaming and running, and Lauren barely registered a cool hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” a smooth voice asked, the hand squeezing Lauren's shoulder as they spoke. She nodded, still rattled, and turned around to face the stranger who had saved her life. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in her savior, the most handsome man she’d clapped eyes on in this lifetime. Amber-gold eyes gleamed above a pair of dark sunglasses that rested on a sharp nose and high cheekbones. Sleek brown-blonde hair poked out from underneath his hat, and a sharp black and white suit accentuated his slim, perfectly proportioned and muscular figure. In short: Lauren was faced with an angel.

“Er… yes, I am alright, thanks to you,” Lauren finally murmured. The stranger grinned and pulled her up, brushed her off, and then pressed a slip of paper into her hand before pecking her on the cheek and bouncing off. Lauren stood there, dumbfounded, staring after the vanishing stranger who had saved her life. Finally, she shook himself out of her shock and started to sprint for work. She couldn’t be late.

Logan snapped out of his memories, heaving. He hadn’t remembered Declan before, and he’d forgotten how… charming he’d been. How wonderful those first few months had been. He’d forgotten the moonlit rendezvous, the fancy dinners, the kisses after Declan returned from missions… He’d forgotten all the good as soon as Declan stabbed him in the stomach for accidentally helping another spy agency. He’d barely had enough magic to transform, so heartbroken as he was pushed backwards off the roof, the last thing he saw before the Change being Declan’s amber-gold eyes, now cold and uncaring.

Logan forced himself to his feet. He needed to let go of those memories; they would only hurt more in the end. With that, Logan locked cool rain, searing adrenaline, and amber-gold eyes back inside a heavy iron-wrought box and locked it. He could not be distracted by these meaningless romantic notions anymore; he had work to do.

He managed to stave off the memories for another month, until… until a shy, anxious, darkly-dressed boy walked into Logan’s library, checked out a book of faerie tales, and smiled at Logan with a smile Logan hadn’t seen for 300 years. The last time he saw that smile, it was on the dying face of a young Prussian captain, slain by a rival in the halls of Sanssouci. Logan managed to hold on until the young man left, but the second his final black combat boot left, Logan sunk to the ground, breathing erratically. His coworkers were used to this and bundled him off to the Panic Corner to allow him to become lost in memories. Logan screwed his eyes shut, blushing at the feel of warm tears, and tried to stop the flood; he didn’t want to remember her, he didn’t want to go back there, he didn’t want his heart broken again-

Ludwig Amsel stepped into the large ballroom, eyes wide in shock. They had never been inside a room this large or extravagant before, and they were honestly a little nervous. So many people, so many new faces… Ludwig couldn’t handle this. They wanted to go home already. Ludwig was not looking where they were going, and they found themself crashing into another person.

“Ah, es tut mir leid! Bist du verletzt? Haben Sie noch einen Wunsch, Sir?” the person babbled, their high-pitched voice cutting through the fog in Ludwig’s head. Ludwig shook their head and faced the person, their heart hammering in their chest. Short black hair framed a delicate, pale face. Blue-violet eyes locked into Ludwig’s own crystal orbs, and a deep flush rose on the soldier’s cheeks (for that was what he was, Ludwig realized, a soldier).

“Nein, mir geht es gut. Ich bitte vielmals um Verzeihung… wie heißen Sie?” Ludwig asked, extending their hand for a handshake. The soldier snapped to attention, flustered.

“Ähm… ich heiße Hauptmann Viktor Hinterberg. Und Sie?” the captain answered, voice high and shaky. Ludwig nodded and shook the hand, smiling bashfully.

“Ich heiße Ludwig Amsel. Nett es Sie kennen zu lernen, Hauptmann Hinterberg,” Ludwig returned, slowly releasing Viktor’s hand. Viktor flushed and stammered, causing Ludwig to smirk at the adorableness.

“Ich… ich muss gehe. Schönen Feierabend, Herr Amsel.” With that, Viktor walked away, leaving Ludwig alone in the centre of a crowded room.

Logan snapped out of the memory, still crying. His coworker Neah knelt down, large amber-gold eyes (so much like Declan’s, yet not at all like his) boring deep into his soul.

“Which one?” they whispered, gently squeezing his shoulder in a show of support. Logan sniffled, wiping his eyes with his Doctor Who scarf that Thomas had gotten him for Christmas only a few days ago.

“... Viktoria…” he whispered. Neah nodded and sat back, smiling softly.

“The Evans boy, yeah?” He nodded, and Neah nodded back again. “Do you believe that reincarnation is possible?”

“Of course I do,” Logan mumbled. “How could I not, after everything I’ve seen?” Neah shrugged and passed him a Rubik's cube to take his mind off of things and began to speak.

“Could you tell me about Viktoria? Maybe that would help. I know telling people about Laurel helped after… that, so maybe this could help you?” Logan pondered for a second before shaking his head. He wanted to talk about Vik, truly he did, but how was he supposed to tell Neah about all the little trysts as even the Prussian king supported them and gave them a room and privacy at his balls? How was he supposed to explain the sunshine in his stomach every time he saw Viktor’s smile? How was he supposed to explain the feeling of pure love and trust that exploded out of him when Viktor revealed that she was in fact Viktoria, and Ludwig had been allowed to reveal that he was in fact Louisa, but they had despised both names equally? How was he supposed to describe the feeling of pure… death, that came when Viktoria was stabbed through the heart by a fellow captain, jealous of all the attention Viktoria was receiving from Frederick? How in the world was he to speak about the cold, empty, hollow feeling of wrath as Frederick had the captain executed and Ludwig watched? It all still hurt too much to recall, let alone recount to another person.

Neah nodded before standing up. “When you’re ready, come out, okay?” and left him alone to hug the black cat plushie with the mismatched yes that reminded him so much of Viktoria’s sparkling green and brown eyes that if Logan didn’t believe in human reincarnation, he’d believe Viktoria had become this cat that he hugged and cried into on a weekly basis. There was… an odd sense of comfort in that thought, no matter how illogical and false it was.

The next flashback occured only two weeks after the Viktoria one, this time while Logan was out getting coffee with another coworker, Sascha. He walked up to the counter to order his coffee (black, three sugars, no cream), when the sight of the barista caused him to freeze. The soft blonde curls, the clear blue eyes, the freckles, the soft sunshine smile, everything pointed to her and Logan just froze. Sascha noticed, grabbed both their coffees, payed the barista, and quickly walked Logan out to his car, muttering assurances and soothing platitudes until Logan was safely in the car and the coffees were safely out of his reach.

“Okay, Logan, talk to me, what’s going on?” Sascha requested, pushing his sunglasses onto his head so he could look Logan straight (ha) in the eyes.

“B… barista… Pénélope…” he stammered. Sascha nodded in understanding and took Logan’s hands into his own, rubbing his fingers along the knuckles soothingly.

“Just let it all out, Logan, it’s okay,” Sascha soothed. Logan sucked in a breath and tried to stop this, but it was too late and he was yanked under, the last thing he registered in the present being Sascha turning the keys to start the car.

Léone LeClair glanced up as the bell above her shop door tinkled. “Good morning! What can I get you?” she called, turning to face the new customer. Her next question died in her throat as the stranger gave her a bright, sunny smile unlike any that Léone had seen before.

“Good morning! Could I take six loaves of bread, some eggs, and a bit of milk?” the stranger asked, blonde curls falling into her crystal blue eyes. Léone snapped herself out of her stupor and grabbed the items the beautiful girl requested, smiling awkwardly.

“Of course.” They exchanged payments, and the stranger left, leaving Léone feeling incredibly sad and lonely.

The stranger kept coming back, however. She kept coming back to buy more bread, more eggs, more milk. She came to buy butter and cheese and pastries of all kinds. Eventually, Léone learned her name. Pénélope Bisset, a weaver in the next town over who only came here because the products were cheaper and the people nicer, in her opinion. Léone didn’t argue with her.

It was about a year after Léone first met Pénélope when Pénélope asked the question.

“Léone, I love you. You are so kind and sweet and just… I love you. But… I don’t know how to be with you.” Léone’s heart froze in her chest. Pénélope felt the same way as she. They… they had a chance.

“Pénélope, I must confess that… I also love you,” Léone murmured. She flushed, shifting in discomfort, as she waiting for Pénélope’s response. Pénélope clapped her hands together, grinning.

“Oh, Léone! Thank you! I… I’m so glad!” Pénélope cried, dancing around. She paused soon, though, her smile dropping. “What… what are we going to do?” Léone thought for a moment before slamming her fist into her open palm.

“We run. We run to another part of the land and live our lives alone out there.” Pénélope pondered this idea for a moment before agreeing, and Léone’s heart fluttered. She loved this wonderful beam of sunshine more than she could ever quantify.

So, without even another thought, both packed a couple bags of clothing, food, and money and ran. They ran to the edge of the countryside, bought goats along the way, and settled down, telling everyone nearby that they were sisters to avoid being murdered. They raised their goats, and three orphaned children, and finally, finally, after 40 long years, Pénélope died, breaking Léone’s heart for the second time in her life. She held her wife’s body and cried, crying even harder when she realized that Pénélope’s sunshine had left, never to face her again.

Logan snapped back to the present, heavy tears fogging his glasses and dripping down onto his knees. He startled as he registered a soft, warm blanket wrapped around him and his coffee shoved into his hands.

“Logan? You good? Do you need anything else?” Sascha whispered. Logan shook his head, and Sascha nodded. After a few minutes, Sascha murmured: “... Want to talk?” and Logan shook his head again. A few more minutes of awkward silence, and then: “... Want to go home?”

“Yes please,” Logan whispered. Sascha yanked out his phone, fired off a quick text (most likely to Thomas), and then put the car back in gear to drive Logan home.

“Mi corazón, come here! I have something to ask you!” Prince Raúl called, his deep, smooth voice bubbling with excitement. Prince León poked his head into the room, confusion and concern stirring in his mocha eyes.

“Yes? What is it?” León answered, his voice high. Raúl spun to give him a large smile and presented a gleaming gold and ruby ring.

“We’re getting married! Well, in secret, but we’re still getting married! Isn’t this wonderful?” León’s eyes widened and tears bubbled in them. He was… getting married? To the love of his life?

“Of course! Yes!” León yelped, throwing himself into Raúl’s arms, crying and laughing at the same time. Raúl was just as much of a mess, grabbing León and spinning him around before pulling him into a passionate kiss. León giggled and smiled into the kiss as Raúl slipped the ring onto his finger. For just one moment, all was peaceful and happy with the two princes.

Logan snapped back to awareness, sobbing his eyes out. “Oh, sweetie, shh, shh, it’s okay,” a voice was soothing him. Thomas. That was Thomas. His employer. “Logan, I’m not mad, I need you to breathe with me.”

Logan tried, he really did, but nothing was working. Raúl had been the beginning of the end, the last time he was uncursed, the last time he was human.

A small scuffle, and then a new, cool presence was in front of him, telling him to breathe. He shook his head because he couldn’t, he was sorry but he couldn’t, he was too lost…

“Ludwig Amsel, I need you to look at me right this instant,” a soft voice firmly stated, cutting through the mess that was Logan’s thoughts. Logan’s breathing and heart froze. Only… only one person should still know that name; himself. So how… who… what?

“Logan, it’s Viktor. Viktoria. I need you to breathe with me,” the soft voice continued. Logan managed to finally suck air into his lungs, and the voice (Viktoria, but no, she was dead) cheered him on and praised him. Logan finally, finally managed to get his breathing back to normal, and he finally glanced up, only to meet one brown and one green eye, the same eyes of Viktoria.

“Logan. My name is Virgil, but you used to know me as Viktoria. I’m here, darling, and I need you to calm down so we can talk.” Logan nodded, still confused. How did Vik-Virgil know who they used to be?

Virgil pulled Logan to his feet, giving him that small shaky smile. “Thomas told me everything,” Virgil murmured. Logan swallowed. How had Thomas…

“I met the witch who cursed you, Logan. They feel sorry for what they did, and they decided to help me help you break it,” Thomas explained quickly, arms crossed over his chest as a warm smile dimpled his cheeks. “So, I reached out to the three who mattered, found out they all lived here, and told them everything.”

Logan blinked, surprised. The witch… was… sorry? “And Patton- you’d know him as Pénélope- and I are good friends, so I told him. He’s running to get you some tea; Sascha told us you like tea. So, Patton and I are friends, and Roman is Patton’s boyfriend- you’d know Roman as Raúl I believe?- so he’s with Patton getting tea. And I’m here to calm you down.” Virgil rattled off nervously.

“Ah… my… apologies for freaking out…” Logan mumbled.

“Hey, hey, no. No need. You’ve been through a lot, Logan, and no one is going to fault you for some breakdowns,” Virgil cut in, eyes fierce yet soft. Logan bit his lip. He didn’t believe him.

“Logan. Thomas has closed the place, so we’re going to sit down when Patt and Princey get back and talk this all out, okay L?” Logan nodded, and Virgil nodded before stepping back. “Now,” Virgil continued, arching a dark eyebrow. “Tell me about yourself?”

Notes: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Okay, so, the conversation was basically: Virgil apologizing to Logan after bumping into him and asking if he could do anything. Logan says that he’s fine and then asks for Virgil’s name. Virgil gives his name, Logan gives his, and then Virgil runs off in Gay Panic.

Hope you liked it! Happy New Year everyone!

[camillemontespan]

the epiphany [AU. drake walker x MC]

Set on the evening of the 'The Awakening'. I wrote that Drake and Camille had had a fight before he went to her apartment to fix things, so here is what happened :) p.s I realised halfway through that in the other parts of the fic, Camille had never been to Drake’s before. I forgot that she had (bad planning on my part, sorry!) So let’s just ignore it, act like she had been to his apartment briefly. Cool.

The sleek black town car pulled up in front of Camille's brownstone, right on schedule. 7pm. Camille checked her reflection in the mirror. Her dark hair was tousled and her eye makeup smokey. She reapplied her nude lipstick before grabbing her silver clutch and left the apartment.

Liam was waiting for her in the town car. He was dressed up, wearing a black suit. 'You look fancy,' she said, slipping into the car beside him. 'You look gorgeous,' he replied, kissing her cheek before signalling to his driver to head to the restaurant. It was a new restaurant on the Upper East Side and Liam had been keen to take her so they could try something new. 

He had been taking her on dates for the past month and they had been lovely dates, she wouldn’t dispute that, but she felt something was off. As in, with her. But she wasn’t sure what. 

The car pulled up outside the restaurant and Liam helped her out. ‘I got us the best table in the house,’ he told her, smiling. The restaurant was decked out in green marble, dark wood tables and downlights. The waiter led them out on the terrace where a single table was stood, overlooking the view of the city skyline. ‘Wow...’ Camille breathed. Liam smiled and drew out her chair. They settled down and Liam ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon. Camille tried her best to hide her wince; she hated it when he flashed the cash, but that was how he was. The son of a technology mogul who had counted Steve Jobs as a close friend and a  mother who was an ex-Victoria’s Secret model, Liam had been used to a lavish lifestyle all of his life. He had gone to Princeton, graduated first in his class and had went on to work on Wall Street.  Whenever he took Camille out, it was bottles of champagne and caviar all night. At first, she had insisted they split the bill but when she saw the amount, she had awkwardly admitted that her half of the bill was her rent. Liam had happily paid and he had continued to pay every time they had a date. She wished he would just take her to a normal place or even just a bar where they could shoot pool but they never did. 

They sat and talked about work, new gallery exhibitions in the city and food. It was nice conversation but that was all it was. Nice. As he talked about his boss, Camille’s thoughts wandered away from the conversation and she found herself  thinking about Drake. 

Liam’s best friend. The guy she hadn’t exactly gotten along with at first but they suddenly started to talk more, before they began hanging out together alone. Drake was so different from Liam. He was friendly, of course, but he had these walls up which made it hard to get past the rough edges of him. But Camille had persevered and she found that he was a softie under the tough exterior. He had admitted one night when they were a little drunk that he had a crush on her and he often called her by her last name, Montespan, to stop her from getting close. It was when they were strolling through Central Park a few weeks ago that their hands brushed and they were suddenly holding hands. Drake had let out a breath, as if he had been holding it in, and Camille realised that he had wanted to hold her hand the whole time. She felt weirdly happy about that.

She wondered what Drake would think of this restaurant. No, she knew. Beautiful view but pretentious food and ridiculously expensive. Plus he hated marble. He felt it was too cold. He preferred dive bars and small restaurants with hearty dishes. She didn’t even know if he knew how to pronounce Dom Perignon. 

She wished he was there with her right now.

Camille blinked at the realisation and dropped her fork.  ‘Camille? You okay?’ She nodded mutely. ‘Yeah. Yeah. Um, Liam... I have to go, I’m sorry. I’ve got to be in early to work tomorrow, I’m sorry, I just remembered my boss wants me to sort out his meetings for the rest of the year...’  She gathered up her coat and bag. Liam sighed. ‘No worries, Camille,’ he said gently. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. 

She managed to blag her way out of getting back into his car, as he was insisting on dropping her home, and when he was gone, she hailed a cab. She had been to Drake’s once before, very briefly, but she remembered his address. 

Drake had been planning to drink whiskey until he was black out drunk. He had had one glass so far, not feeling the effects but hey, the night was still young. He knew that Liam was taking Camille out tonight. Liam had been telling him about this new restaurant in the Upper East Side which to Drake, sounded expensive and pretentious. He had a feeling Camille would think the same. She wasn’t like the girls Liam dated - she actually enjoyed crappy dive bars. Drake had been drinking to get drunk because it would help take his mind off her. At least for a night. Then he would wake up tomorrow, hungover and still in love with her. But he couldn’t have her. 

His apartment buzzed and he frowned. He wasn’t expecting visitors. He pressed the speaker. ‘Hello?’ ‘Drake, it’s me, Camille.’ He froze. What was she doing here? How did she remember where he lived? ‘Um... come up?’ He buzzed her in and opened the door, watching the elevator flash as she got inside and it made its way up to his apartment. The doors opened and there she was. She was crying.  ‘Camille?’  She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, smearing her eyeliner. ‘Drake, I can’t keep dating him. It’s too hard.’ Drake beckoned her inside the apartment and gave her a hug. ‘Camille, it’s okay.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s not. It was so obvious tonight - I zoned out and started thinking about you and how I wished you were there instead and oh God, I made this ridiculous excuse about working early tomorrow. I feel so bad, but he bought the champagne and he got a table with the view, but it’s just not me! I’m not that kind of girl, I hate being wined and dined! I wanted to be with you.’ She choked and her eyes filled with fresh tears and Drake’s heart ached for her. He pulled her in close, holding her gently. He didn’t know what to do. 

‘Do you want some water? Or tea?’ he asked. He had heard that tea apparently solved everything. She looked up at him. ‘Do you have anything stronger?’ He pointed at the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. ‘Be my guest.’

She poured a glass and leaned against the sideboard. ‘I’m sorry to burst in here. You were having a quiet night.’ ‘Don’t worry, Montespan,’ he said. ‘Are you alright?’ She was studying the floor, frowning. She looked up suddenly. ‘Drake, do you love me?’ His eyes widened. ‘Oh. Um. Well-’ ‘Because I love you.’ Drake stepped back, catching himself on the wall. He was not expecting that. At all. ‘Camille, are you drunk?’ She stared at him. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ He held up his hands. ‘Sorry, sorry! It’s just... that was unexpected.’ ‘So you don’t love me,’ she said quietly. Drake moved to her. ‘Camille, god, I’m going to regret saying this. I do. I love you.’ She looked up at him, her eyes full of hope. ‘You do?’ He nodded. His heart was breaking right now. ‘I love you. But I can’t be with you.’

Her breath caught and she looked at him, her chest rising and falling quickly. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you should be with Liam. He is the one for you. He can look after you. He can make you happy-’ ‘But you make me happy!’ ‘I meant long-term. He is worthy of you. I’m not. I won’t bring you down Camille, I refuse to. He won’t do that. You should be with him.’ He couldn’t believe he was trying to convince her not to be with him. After the months of sleepless nights, those private moments with her when he wanted to just kiss her, hold her, tell her he cared for her, he was telling her to be with his best friend instead. After all of that heartache. Drake felt like his heart was splitting.

‘How dare you, Drake?’ she started, her eyes wide. ‘How fucking DARE you? You have no right to tell me who to be with or how I can be happy. Do you realise you make me happy? You, Drake Walker? I thought that maybe we could start something, be together, see how it went, but you won’t even consider it!’

‘I can’t betray Liam,’ Drake explained. ‘he really likes you.’ ‘Liam will get over it,’ Camille spat. ‘He’s nice, attractive, rich. Girls will fall over themselves to be with him.’ ‘Camille, think. You don’t want to be with me. Trust me, I’m not boyfriend material.’ ‘Why are you trying so hard to convince me? Would you rather I hated you?’ ‘No, but please, try and understand-’ ‘I can’t understand. I don’t want to be with Liam. I want to be with you,’ she said, stepping closer, getting close to his face. Her eyes were filled with anger. ‘I love you. But you keep throwing it back in my face.’ ‘Camille-’ He reached out to pull her into him but she shoved him away, hard.  Tears were running down her face. ‘Stop it, Drake! You feel something for me but you keep trying to push me away, I hate how you always try to push me away!’ Drake reached out to hold her, pleading with her to listen. ‘Please, Camille, I’m sorry-’ ‘If you don’t feel the same, then you don’t get to touch me ever again,’ she said, her voice filled with venom. She slammed her whiskey glass on the sideboard. ‘Bye, Walker.’ She stormed out of the apartment, slamming the front door shut behind her. 

Drake stumbled back onto the sofa, his head in his hands. He willed the hot tears that were forming behind his eyes to dissolve but they didn’t - they fell down his cheeks. He felt hollow. What had he done? Why had he thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him? 

He drank some more but her face wouldn’t fade. He didn’t even fell drunk. He just felt sad. He looked at the clock. 10.30pm. He couldn’t face the rest of the night with them not speaking. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. He loved her. With new resolve, he grabbed his keys and left the apartment, not caring that it was pouring rain outside. He was going to fix this.

[wonderlustlucas]

dancing through our house - kim yugyeom

⇢ prompt Feet don’t dance like they did with you.—“ghost of you” by 5 seconds of summer ⇢ pairing yugyeom x female reader ⇢ word count 2.5k ⇢ genre some fluff, but mainly heavy angst ⇢ warnings main character death; descriptions of anxiety & depression ⇢ summary In which some things are impossible to forget. ⇢ a/n this be hella sad i think i cried the whole time writing this. listen to the song for optimum sadness. my friend read this earlier and told me to quote what she said sooo: BUT LIKE EVEN THOUGH IT HITS YOU AT THE CORE AND YOUR LIKE WOW THIS IS SO GOOD YOUR ALSO LIKE FUCK THIS AUTHOR CAUSE WOW IM CRYIN

“You’re too pretty for a shitty place like this,” you commented boldly; however, no trace of humor laced your tone and, casual as ever, you took a long gulp from your red plastic cup as Yugyeom leaned against the marble island, speechless because he was the one that spent hours planning for this moment. He was the one that had an insufferable crush on your pretty face from the moment he tumbled headfirst, literally, into your life. Days had rolled into weeks which rolled into months and he simply could never bottle up all his feelings and serve them as they were, “Today’s the day,” he told himself practically every morning, yet as soon as he marched into the lecture hall with the courage of an ex-One Direction fan slash current K-pop fan and found you so, so effortlessly beautiful amongst your circle of friends, his tail shot between his legs and, alas, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow’s the day.”

And so, when Yugyeom’s first ever university end of year party rolled around, BamBam, Jeongguk, and Mingyu thrust an absurd amount of shots down his esophagus and propelled him like a rocket to where you concocted some sort of drink, he was ready this time. He was going to grab the bull—no, not a bull, you’re too pretty to even be labeled as some sort of animal—by the horns and spill out every last ounce of his emotions until his lungs collapsed, whether you remembered him from the first day of freshman orientation nearly six months ago when he oh-so-gracefully smacked your iced coffee right out of your hands or not. He was here now, prepared to do whatever it took to sweep you off your feet, not vice versa.

“You didn’t give me a chance to get to the good part of this conversation,” Yugyeom grumbled, ruffling his hair with his hands, he saw—he saw your eyes follow the motion and his heart absolutely picked up to a detrimental rate. “Wait,” you smiled—or was that a smirk you were hiding?—and added an ungodly amount of rum to your cup, “I think this is where you’re finally going to tell me how you feel and I’d rather embarrass myself drunk than embarrass myself sober because, I’ll have you know, I nearly shit my pants every time I see you.”

Suddenly Yugyeom’s tongue was pulsing like a heart in his very dry mouth and he most definitely misheard you—right? “Is that a good shit, or a bad shit?”

You laughed, a sound so sickly sweet he fleetingly considered smashing his head through the wall until your answer blessed his ears, “Nah, it’s a good shit. I heard you were head over heels for me, or something like that, back in January and I thought you’d come talk to me but—ah, never mind. Needless to say, we were both dumb for not just speaking up.”

“Does this mean if I ask you on a date you won’t reject me?” Yugyeom let out a shaky laugh, mesmerized with the way your skin glowed under the kitchen’s dimmed lights, he fought the urge not to cup your face and instead opted for stepping closer, breathing in your rosy perfume and nearly losing his shit, when you responded with a bashful smile.

“Yeah,” you sighed, much more breathless than you’d like to be, “you don’t have to worry about that anytime soon. Unless, of course, you’re a total dickhead or a terrible kisser,” you snorted, a noise usually found unpleasant but Yugyeom wanted nothing more than to prove to the world no fresh-out-of-the-pussy puppy was cuter than you; however, his prize-winning grin faltered when you went on, “which by the way, I think we should totally test that out. You know, in case you are a terrible kisser and I have time to back out of this dating proposition.”

Yugyeom didn’t need to be asked twice and yanked you forward so quickly you yelped, but, the gentleman he is, steadied you against his chest and dipped down to kiss you without a single drop of hesitation. His lips found yours effortlessly, heart singing with joy when you gasped against his mouth but melted into his arms nevertheless, his tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and he could just barely taste a hint of Doritos cheese as—

The shrieking of his cellphone like an angry rattlesnake renders Yugyeom’s peaceful dreaming of the beginning of his relationship with you nearly 3 years ago cut short-lived, he lets out an aggravated groan, slapping around the mattress aimlessly for the device before pressing down on the off button to shut the annoying blaring off.

Brain still clouded with sleep, Yugyeom flips onto his stomach and sighs blissfully, stretching his arm out to the pillows on the left side in order to determine whether you’ve already left for work or not.

Upon feeling the icy touch of the sheets Yugyeom rolls over to your side, relishing in mornings like these: he’s home, you’ll be home soon, he can spend the rest of the day—the whole day!—with you. Cheek pressed against your pillows, Yugyeom inhales a hefty breath of your scent, filling his lungs and brain with the jasmine and vanilla perfume from your shampoo. He smiles into the coolness of the downy pillow, contemplating whether he wants to send you good morning meme until, like a shit ton of bricks dumped on his head, the weight of the world falling on his shoulders, the realization hits Yugyeom slowly, cruelly.

He realizes, upon impact, that whether he texted your phone or not—you won’t answer. He could text you a million times a minute, call you even, and you wouldn’t answer because you’re not here. Eyelids fluttering open within milliseconds, Yugyeom jerks away from your side of the bed with a choke, clawing the sheets as he flies from the bed, nearly crumbling to the floor but catching a grip against the windowsill. You’re gone.

Breathless and with your smell multiplying like cells in his senses, Yugyeom reaches for the closest thing—one of his pillows hanging lopsided off the mattress—and pelts it to the wall across from where he stands, heaving, watching with disappointment as it thumps against the brick lightly and, consequently, not unleashing any of his pent-up emotions. Your beautiful heart isn’t even beating.

But he knows if you were here, you’d tell him he would be just fine.

The red and black and white grain muddling Yugyeom’s vision begins to clear as he chokes on air, the briny taste of tears enters his mouth when he licks his chapped lips and when did he start crying?

Six feet underground. Like the past thirty-three days, Yugyeom blinks away the rest of his tears and waits until they’re dribbling down his cheeks to wipe them, he lets out a shaky breath and proceeds with his day, plucking up the pillow and setting it back on the bed like you would’ve asked him to.

When he leaves the bedroom and makes way for the kitchen, he winces at the eerie silence of the apartment aside from the incessant percussion of birds singing outside the living room window and occasional creaking of the attendants an apartment above and decides some Chris Brown could do. Swinging open the refrigerator door, Yugyeom sighs at what’s inside—or, better, there lack of—and decides, he really needs to go grocery shopping; a half-empty gallon of milk, three eggs left in the carton, what’s left of the sliced bread, and four bottles of soju that has turned into medicine to cure his headaches and panic attacks rather than a way to enjoy nights like he used to with you.

Despite the persistent growling from his gut, Yugyeom only reaches for the milk, sets it down on the counter and hums—he hums!—something so insignificant but something he hasn’t done since your accident as he reaches for the dishwasher and pulls the door open. His humming stops when he catches sight of your coffee cup inside, mauve lipstick stain faded even more from the day before and he knows if he wants it to stay he has to stop using it every morning, but a part of him cannot help but reach for it because it’s just another part of you.

His stomach churns and keeps churning and suddenly Yugyeom’s head is heavy and saliva is flooding his mouth and he’s burning hotter than the star that keeps our planet alive and he scrambles to the stainless steel and heaves into the sink, expelling everything from his belly, which, ultimately, is nothing. Yugyeom dry-heaves, once, twice, before inhaling a shuddering breath, drool dripping from his lips and down his chin until he hastily wipes it away. With his appetite stolen like a rug whipped away from beneath his feet, Yugyeom slams the dishwasher door closed, the contents angrily rattling inside, and leaves the milk on the counter for he could not give less of a shit.

A cold shower fixes everything, love, you would say, the cold-shower freak yourself, he nods to himself, a cold shower will do, Yugyeom makes way for the bathroom and strips from his clothes that seem to stick to his sweaty body, twists the shower knob just slightly so the stream is at its coldest possible temperature before whipping aside the curtain and stepping inside. Yugyeom shudders at the contact of water against his skin, goosebumps spreading across his body head to toe and he presses himself against the wall, shivers wracking his body, squeezing his eyes tighttighttightuntil it all goes away, until he’s numb, until your standing beside him again.

His body, at some point, numbs to the frigid water and he finally backs away from the wall to stand underneath the shower head, running his hands through his raven hair, rubbing the crust away from his eyes, washing up quickly and using your body cleanser instead of his own. When Yugyeom’s finished, he dries off quickly and wraps the towel low on his hip, but frowns when he enters your bedroom because you’re not there to tell him how hot he is and how lucky you are, in which he would tackle your cute ass and smother your face in kisses, which, eventually, lead to his towel on the floor and your clothes dropped next to it.

A dinging notification from Yugyeom’s phone still buried beneath his pillows snaps him back to reality and he wanders over, scrolling through his notifications from the newest to the oldest.

DabDab🤮– 1:42 PM Hey bud. Hope ur getting there. Call me

Missed Call from DabDab🤮 – 11:23 AM

Missed Call from 🅱️eon 🅱️eongguk – 10:14 AM

Yugyeom sighs—he knows he should be grateful his friends care, but he simply does not care enough for himself to constantly answer their nagging questions. He contemplates ignoring it, he could shove the device back under the pillows and answer it tomorrow like he usually does, but he’s gone three days without talking to one of them and so, guilt makes up his mind and he’s tapping away until BamBam’s voice disturbs the deadened ambiance Yugyeom’s created in your bedroom.

“Hey! You called,” BamBam’s voice fills the hair, Yugyeom can almost see the smile, and falls back onto the mattress.

“I called.”

“I know you don’t want to talk, which I understand. But I want you to do me a favor,” BamBam goes on, Yugyeom pinches the bridge of his nose, biting back a sharp retort, “I want you to use that damn well-spent studio the two of you have in your apartment and freestyle. Just an hour. I know you were coming up for a choreo to something, I don’t know, but go do that.”

Yugyeom pauses, considering the idea, but shuts it down quickly because he does not want to do anything but lie here, “I can’t. Not today.”

“Yugyeom, you’ve said that to everything. I know you’re not doing anything, and I don’t blame you. But if there’s one thing you still have and love, that’s dancing. And I’m not arguing with you over this. Please, just do this. For me.”

Yugyeom hears the crack in his best friend’s voice, he can feel the pain through the phone, another ache to add to his poor heart, “I can’t go in that room without her, Bam.”

“You’ve had dance before you had ___, Yugyeom. You shared dance with her, you grew with her from it. You can do it without her. Do it for her, she’d be proud. Okay?”

Yugyeom swallows the lump in his throat, the tears threatening to spill from his burning eyes and his bottom lip trembles, “Okay.”

“Okay. Don’t say okay again, I’m not Augustus Waters,” BamBam chuckles, sniffling on his line and Yugyeom knows he’s crying too but manages to crack a smile, “okay. Fuck! I said it again. Alright, go dance your heart out for a little and take care of yourself. Also, don’t be a stranger. Please.”

Yugyeom nods, digging his knuckle into his eye to stop the tears, he croaks out, “Okay. Thanks, man. See you.”

He hangs up a moment later to let the tears spill freely.

An hour later, Yugyeom stands in the doorway of his—your—dance room, glaring questioningly at the mirrored walls around him, his pitiful reflection staring back at him. Do it for you, he tells himself, stepping inside and clicking the door shut behind him.

Yugyeom stretches his tense muscles, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror in fear he’ll back out or conjure up a mental image of your bruised and bloodied body in the hospital, he mustn’t think about it or else it’ll only get worse. He scrolls through his downloaded songs, zoned in on something other than you for the first time in weeks, going back and forth between a few options before caving in to another Chris Brown bop he cannot get away from.

Just like before, Yugyeom tells himself after his first slip-up, swinging his leg too far to the side and so he begins again, carrying himself with utmost grace and sharp, fluid movements but he shakes his head a minute and a half in—not good enough. “One, two, three, four,” he whispers to himself, starting from the top for the seventh time, he glides and twists and pulls and—

And he blanks hardly thirty seconds in, pausing, staring into his reflection, shuddering for oxygen, long hair tousled from the quick movements, limbs screaming at the sudden usage, and he can’t wrap his mind around what follows next.

“I can’t do it,” Yugyeom says to no one in particular, balling his fists at his sides before collapsing onto the smooth laminate, he looks to the corner of the room and if he squints hard enough, he can imagine you standing there, telling him he can do it, but his tears blur his vision so he buries his head between his knees, “I can’t do it without you.”

And Yugyeom cries for the thirty-third day, for his feet don’t dance like they used to with you.

[survivormagictreehouse]

Episode #5 “I have nothing else to lose at this point” -Jay

-Did I even make a confessional last round??? AHH. Okay so I’m excited with our swap and I think we have a strong tribe but I’m REALLY sad (and not surprised) about Austin leaving. I think that I am on a very strong tribe and I can’t wait to see what happens with it going forward!  Like I can’t bad talk anyone, I like them all. 

-Can we talk about how proud I am of myself for remembering enough information to tell Cindi while she was answering questions? LOL, I had never been so nervous in my entire life so I'm really good that we pulled out a win!  Ali and Collin did such a good job retaining and relaying information.  It is nice to have another day off and I'm really curious to see what Ali decides to do and what the next challenge will be... I don't want this tribe to be broken up yet.   If I do end up swapping I really want to end up on a tribe with Chips.  We played in a game recently AGAINST one another and I'm dying to work with him, like actually work with him so oddly enough, I'm really hoping that he isn't going anywhere! I feel like they will probably go after Timmy or Jay. Right now the person on my tribe I feel like I can talk with the easiest about the game is Ali, he is probably my number one and I feel like I can tell him stuff without it getting passed around the entire tribe.  Do I completely trust him?? NO.  But I do trust him the most haha.  

-I SURVIVED AHHHHHH I GET TO STAY!!!!!!!!! Fuck that was so close and I feel so bad for throwing Austin under the bus but hey, I needed to stay in this game and keep my relationships strong. Plus, voting for Timmy would have looked really shitty to him, after the whole alliance thing. Anyways....Birch is here now! I love them sm and I really look forward to getting to work with them again. As far as I can tell, my best bet of staying is a group of me, Timmy, Zach, Birch and probably Chips. Chips and Zach were so helpful to me this whole day, reassuring me and giving me the information I needed to stay safe. I also called with Timmy just now and we're gonna be sticking together since it's our best option. Its really been a big turn from feeling comfortable in the tribe to fighting to stay, but I'm gonna stay fighting and hopefully make it out of this swap alive.

-I'm trying so fucking hard to stay in this game but right now it feels like a lost cause. Zach sold me out so badly last night and it feels like it's been impossible to recover. I'm trying to get me, Timmy, chips, and birch to all vote Zach but it's feeling less and less like it's actually happening and more like they're just saying it to keep me comfortable. No one is really responding to me anymore and it just feels like this is the end. The only little bit of hope I have is apparently Timmy has heard it's gonna be Birch instead? Seems like a long shot, I don't really want to see them leave, and I'm not gonna push for it. Birch is an indespencible ally and I will go to rocks for them if i have to. I have nothing else to lose at this point.

https://youtu.be/cYEa3LQE6N4

-Going into tonight's tribal, I think I'll be safe and have the votes of Timmy, Jess, Gavin, and Keegan. However, I feel like either Gavin and Keegan could flip (though unlikely) OR an idol could be used on Jay. I guess we shall see though. See y'all on the other side :)

-okay so the og annie tribe lost their marbles and got a 4-3-1? which well. in other news, i died in my other game and mr BODHI on this tribe got me out... very interesting. i was originally gonna punish him and get him out. and i still might. im unsure. he would deserve it tho he is so wishywashy that its infuriating. rn dream alliance is cindi/vi/ruthie/rachael (aka feminism + ali). bodhi was the best to vote for me on a game level and him needless treating me like crap makes that much easier.

-okay hello... so in a crazy plot twist... we won the storytime? i was really proud of my own contribution to the challenge, i passed on a LOTTA info to collin and he did so so good passing it, ruthie SNAPPED when she was so nervous and cindi brought it home. my game has been pretty smooth sailing, two easy votes and now im chilling on the most wholesome tribe ever. should i probably be throwing these challenges to save jay/timmy/austin... maybe... but am i going to... no. im not risking my game life when i see my entire current tribe as long term allies. ideal scenario is that group implodes and sets us up to pick up the pieces at merge... maybe? but also i think we are swapping again before merge, so just adding another challenge with the shakespeare challenge delays me getting jumped by the conglomerate of generic men, birch and jess. my closest ally right now is definitely ruthie, i LOVE ME SOME RUTHIE. vi, cindi, collin, timmy and rachael i also trust to some extent. bodhi i literally would get an indescribable seretonin rush from voting out... i would LOVE the opportunity to jump him in this game. am over that man. but im vibing having fun! still have an idol! and living my BEST life ha. im sorry my confessionals have been underwhelming but my game experience has been pretty smooth sailing so far ha.

-Spill the tea! *It's 1:11AM and I still miss Gavin.

-It's 8:59 PM and I still miss Gavin. prayer circle for Gavin <3

https://youtu.be/JSmJThHF-tU

So I did something. I am not allied with 5/7 people on my tribe. I have the "3 Canadians, oh and the 2 American Hosts" Alliance of me, Jess and Keegan. I am not quite as Loyal to that alliance as I am my new one. But I still don't want to vote them out. If I HAD to I would but i want to keep them. I really like both of them. I just made the "The Jolly Crew" Alliance which is Me, Jay, Timmy Z and Zach. I love this alliance. I vibe really well with Timmy and Jay. I am a little more iffy on Zach but he is really cool! I stan everyone! I guess out of the 2 people left I would prefer to vote out chips? He tends to be kinda inactive and I talk to him the least. IDK I'll go with the numbers, and my alliance.  

Another round, another immunity win. I’m just living life and am happy with how this game is going. Don’t really have to do much but making sure it won’t be me if we eventually do go to tribal.

We lost the challenge despite my best efforts. I think we’re voting Jay

I wish i had something of substance to say but this tribe refuses to go to tribal :/ i've found spots where TWO idols were in the past i think??? lions -> straight ahead -> ask for a tour, and vikings -> small boat -> get on the small boat

Soooooo... we lost the challenge again an' I got kidnapped by the gentlemen o' fortune. love that there fer me! then, to me surprise, right off o' the bat, jay threw me name out. so 'e be essentially dead to me now an' I expect 'im to be leavin' tonight. his blood ‘ill be on me hook after tonight. luckily fer me, I went around an' started spreadin' that there I 'ad 'eard 'e been sayin' me name—and 'e 'ad apparently only said it to zach. so now, the votes be between zach an' jay... an' I could not be 'appier as me name be off o' the table as farrr as I know. so bless to the sky to that there. I be expectin' jay to set sail tonight, but who knows. there been a lot o' talk o' 'im or birch 'avin' an idol or some kind o' advantage (which I believe birch may 'ave something), but I don’t think I be playin' me idol unless I catch wind o' somethin' strange 'appenin'... but me fingers be crossed an' I be goin' to 'ope fer the best.

2nd win and Ali is chucked to the tree house. Gotta do a music video

So the Annie curse strikes again............ wooo. This vote is a bit of a mess but honestly this all works out for me. Jay going ensures that I have Chips/Birch's loyalties moving forward and honestly the more OG Annie people that go the better. I hate the whole tribe lines situation but honestly I'm kind of stuck in it and I think I'm stuck in it for the long haul or at least for now. Zach going ensures I can climb the social rankings of the OG JACK tribe but it also might make me land on the bottom and it would be such a gamble. Do I trust Zach? no. Do I think everything Birch/Jay are saying about Zach is completely true..mhm BUT I need him just for a bit longer at this point. Also if Jay didn't say Gavin's name I probably would risk it and vote out Zach but at this point I can't not vote out someone who is saying my number 1's name... I want another swap because I'm bored of talking to the same people and I need to form some new bonds before merge. 

With me getting one vote last time, I really wanted to secure my spot within my team and was able to talk with Zach and Jess into making an alliance chat with us and Keegan/Gavin. Hopefully jay goes tonight but I’m not to sure. In the challenge bitch was terrible. We are a bit nervous they got an advantage or idol on exile which is why we are telling everyone the vote is birch tonight. Guess we will see how tonight goes

I'm doing lots of house stuff today but I hear there's a mess to be had with Jay versus Zach. I want to vote Zach because he has been acting head honcho but also... dont care too much. Im going to try to force a tie then get blindsided out of the game. Hype energy!

.

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The Round 5 Cast Assessment will be combined with Round 6 (on the next episode)

[gayninjabadass]

“Anyone with eyes...”

Here it is guys the moment we have all been waiting for thank you so much @irenedrew your pictures turned out so so beautiful and I’m so excited to be able to SEE my story alive like that. Collaborating has made this extra fun and I hope everyone who reads this story and sees your art is as excited as I am!

This story is for the prompt 

"I really want to see the Captain of the Desus ship, Rick, get fed up with the non-movement of the sip and call all hands on deck to get it sailing."

Ill include an AO3 link if that’s your preferred format otherwise read more!

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10849887

Please do not repost, link to another site, or remove water marks from Irenedrew’s work without her consent!!!

Wednesday:

4:30 pm,

Rick’s house.

Rick stood against the mantel of his Alexandrian home with his arms folded. The core of his group, his family, was beginning to disperse after wrapping up their regular Wednesday meeting before dinner. As Daryl crosses the room in front of him Rick watches the way Jesus eyes trail after Daryl. He sits in his place beside Maggie on the couch appearing to manage listening to her at the same time as he tracks Daryl. His eyes land on Rick briefly before darting back to Maggie no doubt he feels the steely blue gaze that still lingers on him. Rick wasn't worried about starring He wants Jesus to know he is looking at him. He needs Jesus to linger after the meeting so he can talk to him and Rick is pretty sure that Jesus will get the message.

Rick had been watching this now for months. He saw the lingering looks Daryl gave Jesus when Jesus was too preoccupied to notice. He saw the way Jesus looked at Daryl all the time, seeming to enjoy the flustered response Daryl gave him or otherwise unconcerned when Daryl didn't notice. Rick had hoped if he just left things alone Daryl would come around in his own time but something Daryl had said to him recently was still bouncing around in his head and it became obvious Daryl was going to need a bit of a push.

Monday:Earlier that week.

Noon,

Rick’s house.

After getting back from a run to find clothes for the ever growing population of children, Daryl stops in Rick's kitchen to drink a glass of water. He leans heavily on the light pink marble counter, tipping his head back and gulping down two full glasses allowing driblets of water to escape the sides of his mouth before slowing down to take smaller sips of the third glass. Rick approaches him cautiously. He had been meaning to talk to Daryl this entire run. It was the reason he had suggested they go together in the first place. He hadn't been going on runs as often since the war ended, his efforts were needed elsewhere, besides Jesus, Daryl, Aaron and Tara were always willing to go. Rick sighs and looks hard at Daryl, accepting that it was now or never. Daryl beats him to it.

.

“What cha got on yer mind?”

Daryls low rumbling voice doesn't sound hesitant like it did when he first got back from the sanctuary. He had never talked much in the first place but after being held captive he said even less and what he did say sounded empty and lifeless. It still sent relief flooding through Ricks body everytime he heard Daryl sounding like his old self. Losing Glenn has been hard but feeling like he had lost Daryl while he stood right infront of him might have been just as painful. Jesus had rescued Daryl, a debt Rick will never be able to repay and that was when Daryl and Jesus first started spending a lot of time together. Somehow they are always within spitting distance of each other, when looking for one you could just find the other. Over those months Rick saw how Jesus slowly managed to get a smirk from Daryl, a huff of air that might be Daryl's laugh, a playful shove or a lazy swat of the hand that Jesus had no trouble dodging. Rick has never seen anyone reach Daryl as quickly as Jesus. He is certain that his brother has feelings for the bearded scout. He thinks now might be a good time for one of his signature Rick speeches. They almost always work on Daryl.

“I was thinkin’ ...”

Rick drops his gaze before rolling his eyes back up and giving Daryl a quirked eyebrow.

“You and Jesus seem to be gettin’ pretty close.”

Daryls shoulders tensed and he lets his hair drop over his eyes while he lifts a thumbnail to nibble on.

“So what?”

Drayls grunt comes out even more mumbled around the nail caught between his teeth and Rick sighs placing his hands on his hips. At least Daryl wasn't denying anything yet. Before Rick can finish sucking in a breath Daryl cuts him off.

“No. nuh-uh.”

“What?”

Rick asks sheepishly.

“Yer gonna do the speech thing. Ya got yer hip cocked an everything’”

Daryl walks around the kitchen island making a B-line for the front porch but Rick jumps in front of the doorway just before Daryl can pass through it. Their chests bump and Daryl takes two long steps back before pacing back and forth reminding Rick of Ezekiel's tiger Shiva.

“Just listen alright?”

Daryl snorts sending some of the wispy hairs on his face fluttering.

“Ya aint givin’ me much choice are ya?”

Rick grins devilishly.

“Exactly. I just want you to know that yer ma brother and I want to see ya happy. And you do seem happy around ‘im. No One here would judge you. Life ain't just waiting fer the next war Daryl. The next Governor, the next Grady, the next Negan. That's what you do. You wait, you help us move on but yer always the first one ready when the fight breaks out ‘cause you never stop. The war is over. Negan is locked up. We’ve got trade deals with four different communities. This is the new world we are building. You can relax.”

Daryl who has been pacing this entire speech whirls around on Rick. Leaning into his space. He doesn't raise his voice. Daryl never raises his voice anymore. Now where he once would have shouted he speaks in a low harrowing tone that sends ice down your spine.

“Relax? I ain't gonna Relax. At the Prison we let shit settle and then we watched Hershel's head roll off his shoulders. Out with Beth we relaxed, sang some damn songs, tried to feed a dog then she got took. Relaxin’ is how people die. ‘Sides it ain't like that. Jesus he don't, we ain't”

Daryl trails off shifting uncomfortably in front of Rick before shoving his finger back between his teeth. Rick understood now what was holding Daryl back. All the people alive today can relate to that. The fear of letting people in, of being really happy, knowing that at any moment the rug could get pulled from under you.

“Daryl, what will you regret more? Never tryin’ or gettin’ what ya want and losing it? Yer alive. Yer still here. Ya still get to try. What would Hershel say? What about Beth? Don't ya think they would want you to be happy?”

Rick knows it's a low blow using the dead against him like that but he needs to make Daryl understand. He needs to reach him. He tries to do it with just his gaze now as he waits for a response. Daryl stares at Rick just shaking his head once as an answer. Rick lets out a long sigh again, squeezing the bridge of his nose. Maybe talking to Daryl first wasn't the right choice after all, it was only making him certain that he wasn't done being involved, and Daryl was going to shut him out. Its best to communicate to Daryl in your actions whenever possible. On top of that this time his speech was too unfocused. Rick had to go and try to talk it out with him but he isn't saying the right thing. He is getting frustrated.  

“Look. I won't make ya do anythin’ but anyone with eyes can see you have feelings for the man. You don't just cozy up to new people everyday. ‘specially not people who steal from ya the first time you meet. Didn't you try to kill Dwight at least 3 times?“

“Was different”

Daryls grunt only serve to make Rick roll his eyes.

“Yeah ‘cause Dwight don’t have that pretty hair am I right?”

Daryls posture goes Rigid and his face flushes red.

“I dunno the fuck yer on abou’”

Rick isn't trying to push Daryl he just can't believe how oblivious he seems to be. He has a sharp eye, can read people in a second, he is bright even though Daryl would never agree with Rick about that.

“Oh come on Daryl. He looks at you the same way you look at him. Ya must have noticed that by now.”

Daryl is vibrating with energy his fists balled at his sides.

“He can do better.”

He checks his shoulder into RIck pushing him back just enough for him to slip through the doorway and out the front of the house before Rick regains his balance.  Rick drops his head and rests his hands on his hips looking at the door swinging closed. That had not gone as well as he’d hoped.

Wednesday:

5:00 pm

Rick’s house

It is just Maggie, Jesus and Rick in the room now. Maggie is talking with her hands mapping out whatever she is describing and Jesus follows with his eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Rick hesitates interrupting them. Maggie had taken on a lot of responsibility at Hilltop and making the trip every Wednesday to be in this meeting must get in the way of her other responsibilities since she always seemed to be working something out when she came.

Ultimately Rick decides to approach the pair. Jesus, Maggie and this time Daryl will all be heading back to Hilltop at sundown. Night travel had recently been reintroduced after the war had ended and the Walker population thinned. Daryl had stuck around Alexandria after last weeks meeting, Aaron and Eric had convinced him to visit for longer by using Judith, they knew Daryl had a soft spot for her and they kindly pointed out that she missed him now that he lived at Hilltop.  With dinner about to start this might be the last chance Rick has to talk to Jesus before he and Daryl are out of reach for a week.

Rick comes to a stop standing by the sitting pair drawing Jesus’s attention first. He gives Rick a meek smile folding his hands delicately across his lap a gesture Rick recognizes as his “Jesus” persona now. He slips it on when he is unsure or being cautious about a situation, it would seem like a tell, except that once the persona was up you had no idea who he was. You couldn't tell what he was thinking or predict what he would do. That's what gets Maggie's attention. The shift in Jesus. She glances up and gives Rick a warm smile when she recognizes him.

“This was a great meeting Rick, I think the water irrigation is gonna make a big difference in the crop yield, thankyou for sending those materials back with us.”

“What's good for the Hilltop is good for Alexandria”

Rick locks eyes with Maggie and they communicate much more than they say. She's family and with his family Rick doesn't have to say much. Rick clears his throat and shifts onto his other leg.

“I was actually hopin’ I could have a moment with Jesus if you could spare ‘im.”

Rick notices the way Jesus eyes flick between them as they talk. Jesus is observant but Rick would bet that Jesus has no idea what Rick wants to talk to him about. Jesus steps forward and places a hand lightly on Maggie's shoulder. His hair brushes the shoulders of his green sweater as he does.

“Go on to dinner I’ll catch up with you.”

Maggie gives him a closed lip smile and squeezes his shoulder in return before nodding at Rick and heading out the front door. Rick turns to Jesus and finds two large inquisitive eyes patiently trained on him. His voice is smooth and reassuring something Rick doesn't have but has made due without. Rick thinks Jesus knows he could lead if he only wanted to. Tucking his hair behind his right ear Jesus cocks his head and addresses Rick directly for the first time.

“How can I help you Rick?”

Rick hasn't exactly panned what he will say. So he just starts the same way he did with Daryl.

“So you and Daryl have been gettin’ pretty close.”

The tips of Jesus ears turn pink and in a fleeting flash he pulls his hair over them looking at the ground before his calm Jesus air resettles around him and he looks at Rick again. It was so quick it could have slipped by if he hadn't come to know Jesus better.

“We have.”

“Daryl is ma brother. When Negan took him ….”

Rick swallows a lump in his throat before continuing.

“I wasn't right then. I couldn't help ‘im. I shoulda been the one ta go get ‘im, been a better brother than his real one ever was, I didn't though. You did. Thank You for gettin’ him back. Not just from the sanctuary, but after. Bringin’ him back to himself.”

Jesus’s mouth is hanging open slightly his already large eyes wide open. He looks at Rick completely speechless a pinkness creeping across his cheeks. He maintains a casual air nonetheless.

“ I- I was just there, in the right place at the right time.“

“No, you made a choice.”

The two men stare at each other silently for a long moment before Jesus starts to shift glancing at the room around him probably mapping out his exits for the 100th time.

“Daryls a good man.”

Rick brings Jesus’s attention back to him. He continues.

“He doesn't think it but he is. One a the best men I’ve ever known. I’ve leaned on him as often as Michonne and for longer. If he were ta get hurt, If anyone at all was ta hurt him I would be very angry. I can be unreasonable when I’m angry. Rash. ”

Jesus narrows his eyes at Rick folding his arms against his chest and straightening his spine. He is a small man, at least a few inches shorter than Rick, but he knows better than to underestimate Jesus.

“Are you giving me the shovel talk Rick?”

Jesus voice is still soft but there is a steal in his eyes that suggests he isn't thrilled about being threatened, there is something else there too, something like amusement. Rick hadn't intended for the conversation to go this way. He meant to encourage Jesus. He was trying to push these two idiots together but somehow it had turned into a protective dad speech. Rick pinches the bridge of his nose reminded of his attempt at talking to Daryl. He just wants to grab them by their shoulders and shake them.

“Anyone with eyes can see there's something going on.”

Rick tries to turn it around assure Jesus he noticed the chemistry but as he watches Jesus’s eyes narrow he knows he did not succeeded.

“You have nothing to worry about Rick. Daryl is straight.”

Rick snorts.

“As a hula hoop.”

Jesus smirks a twinkle in his eyes now.

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

Rick nods his head yes looking at the ground before it dawns on him that he is feeding Jesus answers. He looks back up quickly to see the end of Jesus coat tail pass out the front door. Rick stands there staring after Jesus completely blindsided.

Sunday: Where it began.

7:00 pm

Aaron and Eric’s house

Rick had suspicions about Daryl's sexuality for a while now. It had never seemed important enough to ask about so he hadn’t. That was fine, it worked. That is until Jesus came along. Now Rick is dying to know if he's losing his mind or his brothers perfect match has just shown up. To Rick it's the most obvious thing he's ever seen and he can't understand why no one else is talking about it.  After Daryl quickly befriended Aaron, Eric, and Denise while refusing to interact with anyone else from Alexandria's original residents Rick had shrugged and said it was just a coincidence. Now, with Jesus around and Daryl actually showering regularly he finally decides to ask. Not Daryl of course. That would have never gone over well. Rick talks to Aaron, asks him if Daryl had mentioned anything about it, if all he learns is that Daryl has been confiding in Aaron it might tell him all he needs to know. If Daryl is going to get relationship advice from somebody Rick thinks it would be Aaron. Aaron of course told him that if Daryl had said anything he wouldn't be at liberty to say. Eric who is sitting on the couch reading and listening, chimes in very casually.  

“ But he sure does love making goo goo eyes at that Jesus.”

“Eric!”

Aaron tosses a sandal at Eric saying his name disapprovingly.

“It’s just an observation sweety. Not a violation of his trust. Unless you're suggesting he talks about Jesus.“

“Eric! I swear to god I’ll never rub your feet again.”

Eric rolls his eyes and turns back to his magazine mumbling under his breath as he does.

“I’m sorry I have eyes.”

Rick snorts before pushing off the wall he was leaning on and heading towards the door. So it isn't just him. Other people can see there is something there between the scout and the archer.

“Well I think I have my answer.”

Aaron looks visibly worried as Rick starts backing away.

“Don't say anything to him Rick. You know how closed off he is. If he doesn't tell you himself and you know it's gonna freak him out.”

Rick nods thoughtfully reaching the threshold of the house.

“Well like Eric said, I have eyes.”

Wednesday:

5:15 pm

Rick’s house.

Coming out of his thoughts Rick realizes he needs to talk to Aaron and Eric again. He is in over his head and has struck out talking to both Jesus and Daryl. He decides to find time before next week's meeting to talk to the men. The trouble is Rick just did exactly what Aaron told him not to do.

Wednesday: One week later.

2:00 pm

Aaron and Eric’s house

Rick doesn't find time until a few hours before Jesus, Maggie, and Daryl are expected to arrive.  He knocks on the frame of Aaron and Eric’s open door before he enters, like usual he finds Eric reading and Aaron tinkering with something mechanical on the table. They both look up as he enters.

“Rick, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Aaron stands up going to the sink to wash his hands. Hospitality is a strength Aaron and Eric share, which is exactly what Rick kept reminding himself as he avoided this all week.

“I need yer advice.”

Rick waits one hip cocked standing between the two partners as they exchange a look. Eric looks excited Aaron looks nervous.

“About what?”

Eric asks this time. Rick takes a deep breath.

“I talked ta Jesus n’ Daryl.”

Eric drops his book and stands immediately. Aaron turns the sink off staring hard at Rick.

“You what?”

“Rick No!”

Rick scratches at his beard tossing his head to the side remembering the conversations from last week.

“Yeah, I did.”

Aaron makes a displeased groan but Eric steps around the coach too invested to stay so far away.

“Okay, well there's no going back now. So what happened?”

Erics eager eyes roam Rick's face hopefully.

“Ah, well Daryl said there ain't nothin’ goin’ on and that relaxin’ is how people die. Worst was he said Jesus could do better. Jesus… well..”

Rick trails off unsure how to describe the conversation he had with Jesus. Eric is hanging on the edge of his seat waiting for Rick to continue. Aaron is approaching slowly drying his hands on a towel with a pinched expression on his face. Rick pushes air out through his nose before the words sort of tumble free.

“First I thanked ‘im for gettin’ Daryl back... Then I threatened ta hurt him if he hurt Daryl, then he said not to worry ‘cause Daryl was straight and I kind a said he ain’t.”

“Rick!”

Aarons face is horror struck and Eric has a hand cupped over his mouth and nose the other on his hip. They both speak at the same time. Eric saying

“You threatened him?”

Was lost under Aaron saying

“You told Jesus, Daryl isn't straight? Rick why would you do that?”

“I didn't mean to, I didn't realize he didn't already know ‘till after I said it. Then he was just gone. He Ninja’d outta the room ‘fore I even figured out what was happenin’.”

Rick watches Aaron walk over to the couch rubbing his face with his hands before gingerly sitting down.

“Daryl is never going to trust me again.”

Rick feels a pang of guilt hearing that. Eric swoops in quickly standing in front of Aaron and pulling his head against his stomach.

“Oh hush, if we can get that bone head to stop ignoring his feelings he might even thank you and it's not Rick's fault, Jesus is a slippery one.”

Eric looks up and over to Rick.

“Take them on a run. Daryl gets claustrophobic behind walls. If you're gonna get through to them it's gonna be out there.”

Rick nods his head. That is a great idea if he had them both together and alone they would have no choice but to deal with each other. There would be nowhere for Daryl to run off to.  Rick did know that Daryl likes to venture outside the walls to think things over but it hadn't occurred to him to take him out there for this; it might be easier on him. It is a good observation Rick knew talking to Aaron and Eric would help. Other than Rick, Aaron and Eric saw Daryl the most they knew him almost as well as Rick did. In some ways better even.  A shout from the gates gets all of their attention.

“Rick Grimes!”

Rick darts out the door into the bright mid afternoon sun shielding his eyes when he hears Maggie call for him but as soon as he makes it into the street and sees the pregnant woman marching towards him he freezes. She looks furious. Michonne who must have opened the gate is chuckling with Rosita when Rick stops dead in his tracks. She slides the gate back into place but Rick couldn't keep watching because Maggie was right in front of him now. At least he knows this isn't a life threatening issue since Michonne is laughing.

“Maggie, it's good to see you.”

Rick tries to sound casual but Maggie still looks furious as she grabs him by the bicep and tugs him towards his home two houses down.

“We have to talk. Now!”

Once inside Maggie closes the door and turns on Rick with fire in her eyes and wild hair.

“What did you do?”

She demands without giving any context. Rick twists in his posture before stammering a response.

“What? I? I dunno Mag’s what did I do?”

“You did somethin’! You ask to talk to Jesus last week and since then I haven't been able to get him and Daryl in a room together without them fightin’ or one of them running off. It took me months of pairing them up to get them where they were and now you went n’ ruined it all. Jesus says you gave him the shovel talk? You can't be serious Rick. You gave Jesus the shovel talk.”

Rick sighs frustration mounting. Why had he gotten himself involved in this. He had just wanted to see Daryl happy and now he was buried in a mess and feeling the wrath of Aaron and Maggie. He had not been as close to Daryl as those two over the past months and he was starting to realize what a disadvantage that had become.

“I just wanted ta help! They have been pining after each other like a couple a dumbasses and I just thought if I talked to ‘em they might actually do somethin’ “bout it. I wasn't even tryin’ ta give him the shovel talk it just happened.”

Maggie scoffs and throws her hands up.

“It just happened? You didn't think about talkin’ to me before sendin’ me back with a couple of oversized children? They have been bickerin’ and avoidin’ each other ever since then. I know you didn't just talk to Jesus, what did you say to Daryl. He won't tell me and I can't fix this if I don't know.”

Rick really is desperate for some help. He hadn't meant to make such a mess of this.

“I told Daryl it was okay to relax. Told ‘im we all just want him ta be happy.”

Maggies temper seems to be fizzling out.

“Is that what you said to him? What did he say? Why is he so upset, I’ve said things like that to him before and he ain't never acted like this petulant child.”

“He said Relaxin’ gets people killed. I told him anyone with eyes can see he's got feelings for..”

Maggies screech cuts Rick off before he can continue.

“You What?! Rick! You did not tell him that. No wonder he is avoidin’ Jesus. Anyone with eyes? Are you serious, what is going to make a closet case like Daryl freak out more than thinkin’ he's that obvious?”

Rick hadn't even thought about it that way. He remembered Eric saying he had eyes to Aaron and hadn't considered what it would sound like to someone as shy as Daryl. Suddenly Aarons scolding made more sense. Eric called it like he saw it but Eric getting away with that is different. It's just him. Rick pinches the bridge of his nose.

“ Eric said it. I repeated it. I didn't think.. Shit Maggie. “

“Shit is right. Just because Eric can say it don't mean you can. You and Daryl are really close Rick but your relationship don't work like theirs. You could really hurt Daryl if yer not careful ‘bout how you say stuff like that. He gives a shit what you think of him. I’ve worked hard to get those two bone heads together and you just undid months of work. I could strangle you. Jesus was miserable all week. Daryl wouldn't even look at ‘im for the first 3 days.”

This is starting to feel like Highschool all over again. Rick has gotten himself in way over his head.

“I’ll fix it! Okay? I was gonna try and take ‘em both on a run. Get ‘em outta here and get ‘em ta talk.”

“ No way! You've done enough damage Rick.”

“Look I won't say nothin’ ‘bout them being obvious. I’ll just get ‘em somewhere so that they’ll be stuck talkin’ to each other. They will have ta sort it out. “

Maggie chews on her lip still glaring at Rick with her arms crossed resting on her baby bump.

“And what about you, what will you do?”

“I don't know. I’ll figure it out. “

Maggie studies Rick hard for a long moment and Rick holds his breath.

“Fine but if they come back and you ain't got them on good terms I'm gettin’ Michonne to kick your ass for me. I'd do it myself if I wasn't pregnant.”

Later that evening after the meeting wraps up and people are beginning to stand once again Rick locks eyes with Maggie. Operation:Leather boyfriends is set to go. That was a name Maggie had already come up with for her plan before Rick stumbled right into the middle of it and he thought it was fitting, if not a bit on the nose. Maggie nods to Rick once before quickly grabbing Jesus’s attention and stopping him from following Sasha out. Rick quickly scans the room finding Daryl already nearing the door on his way out. His heart jumps knowing he needs to keep his part of the plan running smoothly and prevent Daryl from running off.

“Wait up! Daryl.”

Rick calls out taking a few light jogging steps towards the fleeing figure ahead of him. Daryl pauses scuffing a shoe before turning to face Rick. He nods his head towards Rick in acknowledgment his eyes darting to where Jesus is further in the room over Rick’s shoulder. Rick almost smirks but catches himself.

“I'm going on a run tomorrow morning. Gonna be a day's travel there and a day back, camping out for a night. Thought you might like to get out for a bit.”

Daryls shoulders relax while he thinks on it chewing on his lip for a long contemplative moment before he nods at Rick again.

“Yeah sounds good. You talk to Maggie?”

This was going exactly how Rick hoped it would. He is having trouble keeping from acting over excited. This needs to be discussed as a run like any other or else Daryl will run for the hills.

“Yeah I talked to her first. She's headin’ back in the morning, we need ta go that way so we will stop off at Hilltop n’ head out from there.”

Daryl nods again fidgeting with his bandana and stepping to leave.

“A’ight.”

Daryl slinks off towards dinner and Rick finally lets his smile break through. Maggie is a devious woman and her plan to get them on this trip is going to work. Rick is filled with nervous excitement. He has no way of knowing how exactly this will play out but he has a good feeling about this plan. Rick looks back and sees Maggie is glancing his way every few moments. He quickly makes his way over to them giving them a closed lip smile and starting phase two.

“Jesus good ta see ya, Mags”

Rick nods at both of them. Jesus has a suspicious squint to his eye as he looks at Rick.

“Rick”

A name is all he offers as a greeting. Maggie smiles big and warm grabbing them both by the shoulder.

“Well boys, the baby is gonna crack my ribs if I don't get ‘im fed soon. He's kickin’ up a bigger fuss than a cornered pig.”

Jesus lets out a breathy chuckle at Maggie's words and looks fondly after her as she exits. His eyes lazily flick over to Rick, his face expectant. His hair is tied up at the crown of his head a few pieces having fallen loose at some point. Rick tries for a moment to see Jesus through Daryl's eyes. He is a very pretty guy with sharp features and bright eyes, Rick thinks, as far as men go, Jesus is good looking. He takes a deep breath. This is going to be harder than talking to Daryl. Rick just didn't mention Jesus would be coming along knowing that Daryl wouldn't ask questions but that would never work on Jesus. Rick has no choice but to shoot from the hip just invite Jesus and see where it goes.

“Jesus,  I'm goin’ on a run. Days trip out, camp for the night then head back. I could use ya on it. Yer quick, quiet, plus more eyes is always better.”

Rick watches Jesus digest his offer. He hums softly looking up at Rick through his eyelashes.

“and who else is going on this run Rick?”

There it is. The question. Rick itches at the back of his neck.

“Just me ...n’ Daryl.”

Rick smiles sheepishly at Jesus whose eyes watch him knowingly.

“and did you already talk to Daryl about it?”

Jesus makes Rick feel like a child who's missbehaved. He sighs heavily tapping the heel of his boot against the ground as he shifts his stance.

“Sort of. He's goin’.”

Jesus lets out a big breath there is a noticeable shift in his attitude, the playfulness melting away as seriousness sets in.

“Look Rick. I don't know what you're angle is but Daryl doesn't want to go on a run with me. Especially not a two day run. He hasn't talked to me in a week. “

Rick can tell Jesus knows he had been involved in why Daryl was avoiding him. Rick gives up trying to navigate this conversation. There was no use pretending he could hold his own in a game of words with Jesus, he has a way of seeing right through you while keeping his own cards close to his chest,  if Rick tries to prevent that it would just drain all his energy. He knows when he is beat. So Rick just decides to lay it all out. Fold his cards.

“I'm sorry ‘bout that. Was my fault. I'm trying ta fix it. You gotta go on this run with us. The whole point a this is ta get him to deal with his feelings. I know I probably sounded like a real ass last week but I was tryin’ ta tell ya ta go for it.”

Jesus’s eye brows are pinched as he keeps his hands unnaturally still, folded palms up in front of his stomach. Rick thinks he may never have had a more personal conversation with Jesus. Most of their interactions had been preparing for the war against Negan and the Saviors.

“With all due respect Rick, you can't make Daryl want to date me. As flattered as I am that you think I would be good for him, knowing how important Daryl is to you, it won’t change how he feels. You can't fix that.”

Jesus has his arms crossed and his eyes look vulnerable. He is obviously feeling exposed by this conversation but he isn't telling Rick to leave and so Rick takes that as permission to continue. Rick takes a step closer feeling like this was to private to be said at full volume.

“ Paul, Daryl cares about ya. I know it. Because I know him. He's just scared of bein’ happy he has more reason than most a us for that. The other day I talked to him ‘fore I talked to you, he said you could do better. He's got it in his head that yer too good for ‘im.”

Jesus’s arms fall loosely for a moment before he pulls his hair out of its bun shaking it loose and running a hand through it. He rubs at his face making a few attempts at speaking before finding the words.

“That's a lot to take in. Rick. I don't know what you think is going to happen. Even if you're right and he thinks of me that way if he doesn't want to let me in it doesn't matter. I won't make him talk to me.”

Rick nods his head thinking it out.

“Sometimes, Daryl needs a little push. I know you ain't known him that long yet but he would still be sleepin’ in a tent a football field away from the rest of us if it weren't for Carol goin’ out n’ pushing him to open up. Hes stubborn as all hell and He dont make the first move in anythin’ but a fight. This will work. If we go out in the woods we start a fire and I wander off. Maybe I go ta sleep or go get firewood but I'll make sure you get a chance to just try and talk to ‘im. Out there where he's more comfortable and got nowhere to hide. All the time I’ve known him there ain't been no one I could see him happy with ‘cept you. ”

Rick watches Jesus hopefully. He looks reluctant to accept but as time stretches Rick starts thinking more certainly that the answer will be yes. Jesus eyes him again hesitantly this time from behind his hair with that same pull between his eyebrows.

“Rick you've never even asked how I feel about him.”

Jesus points out, his voice soft . It's obviously a weak attempt at avoiding this impending confrontation on their run tomorrow. Rick chuckles. He remembers telling Maggie he wouldn't talk about how obvious these two are and stops himself before it slips out again. Instead he says.

“Well Jesus, how do you feel about ‘im?”

Jesus’s face twists and a pained sound passes his lips. He pulls his arms back across his chest shaking his head back and forth and giving a barely audible answer.

“I don't know.”

Jesus has his eyes trained on the floor so Rick steps forward gripping his shoulder and peering down into his line of sight.

“Hey. The two a ya were on Negan's personal hit list. Doesn't the fact that ya both made it through the war say something? You aren't done yet. Neither of you. You still get time.”

Jesus smirks now following that with a wispy half hearted chuckle, he looks up at Rick with a slight wetness to his eyes. Rick isn't sure so he asks.

“What's funny?”

“Something I said to Sasha, it's a long life; and then it isn't.”

“Exactly!”

Rick feels that hope from before returning and then Jesus and him are both smiling and Jesus shoves Rick's hand off his shoulder.

“Alright alright. I'll go but I want it on record that I thought tricking Daryl was a bad idea.”

“We're not trickin’ him we are just ignorin’ his wishes.”

“You’re right that’s so much better.”

Rick chuckles before leading Jesus out towards dinner.

“Well it's for his own good.”

Thursday: Show time.

5:00 Am.

The gates of Alexandria.

Jesus sits in the back seat of the car that Rick has pulled around for their run. The car is sitting behind the gate turned off to conserve gas while last minute preparations are seen to. Maggie is talking to Daryl in hushed voices by the trunk as Rick approaches to head out.

“All set?”

Rick asks making to take the driver's seat. Daryl eyes the cars lone occupant through the back window.

“Yeah.”

Daryl seems put off and Rick isn't sure if this is just what Maggie was talking about before, Daryl being crabby all week, or if it is something else.

“Everythin’ alright?”

Maggie smiles at Rick rubbing her hands across her belly absentmindedly. The fabric of her floral blouse hangs loosely where it can't be buttoned any further over her baby bump, instead there was the stretched fabric of her tank top to cover her.

“Yeah we are just fine. I was just tellin’ Daryl here that I checked your supplies for ya and that we can head out as soon as you're ready”

Rick locks eyes with Maggie. She must have stopped Daryl from going through the trunk and noticing the extra supplies for Jesus. Rick feels a nervous twitch start in the pit off his stomach.

“Great. Let's head out.”

Rick quickly ducks into the car ready to just go and get this over with. When they arrive at Hilltop Maggie is going to hop out quickly and Rick is going to pull away before Daryl has a chance to react to Jesus’s continued presence. It wasn't guaranteed to go smoothly but Rick is hoping Daryl will take the silently brooding path rather than say anything. Daryl hesitates outside the car as he sees Maggie move to the passenger seat. When he climbs into the faded gray interior he aims to sit as close to the door as possible leaning his head into his arm against the window. Rick looks at Jesus in the rear view mirror and catches him glancing at Daryl shoving his hair behind his ears and adjusting his scouting gloves. Rick really hopes he isn't being overly optimistic about how this trip will go.

After two hours of completely silent driving Rick pull’s the Sedan up to the gates of Hilltop. It is still early in the morning since they had left just as the sun was rising. Rick squeezes Maggie's hand over the center console and she squeezes back just as Rick brings the car to a stop.

“Have a good trip boys!”

Maggie turns around and smiles big and bright at Daryl who looks startled for a moment before he gives her a nod and leans forward to bump his hand into her shoulder briefly. Maggie looks mischievously at Jesus before jumping out of the car much faster than any pregnant woman Ricks ever seen before. As soon as the car door latches closed she's pounding on the roof laughing and chanting

“Go Rick go!”

So Rick floors it into the turn heading back down the road a bit before he can turn off and start on his way for the run. He realizes as his adrenaline pumps that he is still going to be in the car with these two for a while and driving away fast isn't going to keep him from that. Rick looks up to his mirror to see Jesus has pulled his beanie down over his eyes and is leaning his head back as if he is sleeping, Daryl is glaring daggers into the back of Rick's head. Rick can feel the waves of agitation rolling off Daryl and he is sure that Jesus feigning sleep is more of a response to that than any actual fatigue. Daryl knows now that he has been set up and that Maggie was in on it. Rick takes comfort in being able to drag her down with him if Daryl gets really upset. With Daryl's angry glare still on him Rick reaches into the glove box and pulls out a CD. He figures there's no way he can make Daryl’s mood any worse and he knows that Daryl secretly likes when Rick singings along even if he says he has shit taste in music.

“No, Rick!”

“Hmm?”

Rick pretends not to hear Daryl as he slides the disc in. A country western song starts blaring through the speakers and Rick hits the steering wheel in time with the boot stomps as the twangy whisky voice comes in. Rick knows every word to this song because it's the only CD he has in this car he looks at Daryl again and starts singing along. Rick notices that Jesus’s head is turned towards the window so that his huge grin is hidden from Daryl. Rick smiles as he sings thinking he will get these two to cheer up and chill out by the end of the trip.

Rick tries a few times to start up conversation but Daryl refuses to acknowledge him at all and Jesus offers short responses that make it obvious he is only responding because he feels he has to. Rick doesn't let himself get discouraged he doesn't need anyone else to talk he can just talk to them anyway.  As they were nearing the area they will be camping out in Rick decides to talk about the real reason they are on this trip instead of the random chatter he has been maintaining for a while now.

“Daryl.”

Daryl doesn't respond staring out the window like Rick isn't there. Rick cleares his throat and uses his business voice this time.

“Daryl look at me or I’ll pull this car over.”

Daryls eyes flick to Rick and back to the window before finally settling on a place just past Rick but in his general direction. Rick holds in his sigh.

“I’m sorry if I upset ya the other day.”

Daryls eyes make a panicked flick to Jesus who is sitting up and watching the both of them now much to Daryl's dismay.

“Can ya not.”

Daryls deep voice is a relief after hours of listening to his own voice.

“No we’re gonna sort this out. All of us.”

Rick locks eyes with Jesus and can't help noticing that the man looks a little pale. Rick continues speaking to both of them now.

“The two of you can't be avoiding each other. Yer our best scoutin’ team, two a our strongest fighters. You work well together.”

Rick refrains from saying what he thinks they work well as. Jesus leans his head back and for a moment Rick thinks he is going to go back to faking sleep but he leans forward again quickly folding his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. Daryl watches him from the sides of his eyes.

“Rick, you're right but I still don't know that the best way to get that is to treat us like children in time out.”

Ricks feathers are ruffled by that but he bites his tongue because Daryl snorts something like a laugh. Rick thinks if they can unite against him then at least they will be United in something. He turns down a dirt road nearly hidden by overgrowth so long after the turn. He slows the car down as it jostles on the uneven ground. The sun is beginning to set so Rick turns on the headlights to see more clearly in the dark of the wooded road.

“Well I'm sorry for that too then.”

Rick comes to a stop in a clearing. He pulls the car to the side and turns it off.

“Tomorrow morning we walk about 2 miles to a small town ta check out their clinic. It was about to open when everythin’ went ta shit. It might still be well stocked on medicines. Some that we sorely need.”

The men in the back seat just nod. There is a heaviness in the air. Anticipation not for the run but for what comes first.

“The two a you set up camp, I'll be right back.”

With that Rick gets out of the car and walks directly into the woods leaving the scout and the archer sitting in the back seat. Daryl and Jesus look to each other Daryl wearing a confused look on his face while Jesus just looks tired.

Rick circles around the clearing going through the brush until he finds what he's looking for. On the top of the hill that sits to one side of the clearing, hidden within the foliage, is Maggie with a pair of binoculars. She has two folding chairs, blankets, a basket full of snacks, and a rifle propped against her knee.

When they had made this plan Rick had chosen a long path to get here so that Maggie would have time to beat him here and set this up. When Maggie hears Rick approach she stand pulling her knife from her belt. When she sees it's Rick she puts her knife back and pats the chair next to her as she sits again. She has to lower herself slowly, the size of her belly getting in the way of her usual grace. Not nearly matching her quick escape from the car earlier today. Rick hurries over reaching to help her settle and taking the binoculars that Maggie has outstretched towards him.

“ What are they doin’?”

Rick is already trying to find them in his sights. He finds Jesus sitting on the hood of the car his Beanie having been removed at some point. He is watching Daryl fuss with a tent. Maggies voice filters in like narration while he spies on the two men in the clearing.

“Well Daryl is tryin’ to set up that tent and failin’.”

“But Daryl can set up a tent with his hands tied behind his back.”

Rick doesn't understand what could be the problem. Maggie is laughing and when Rick looks over he sees she has pulled out another pair of binoculars for herself.

“Jesus hid a few pieces of it and I think he is waitin’ for Daryl to ask for help.”

Rick is grinning, This is already turning out to be very interesting. He just wishes they could hear what they were saying so he says as much.

“ I dunno, I think watchin’ them is a bit of an invasion of privacy already.”

Rick nods. Maggie is right. He leans back into watch them.

The Campsite: Jesus and Daryl

Sundown.

Daryl growls kicking the side of the dingy, faded, red tent as it tips over again. It stirs up some dirt and dry leaves when it lands.

“Maggie said we was all set to leave, didn't mention the tent is missing pieces. Shoulda checked it myself.”

“It was all there when we left, I packed the trunk. I’m sure it's all here somewhere.”

Jesus leans back so his shoulders are resting on the car's windshield, lazily tucking his hands behind his head and gazing up at the canopy of trees. He is completely unbothered by Daryls very apparent frustration.

“It ain't hear I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Would you like some help?”

Daryl stops what he is doing and looks at Jesus the cocky grin on his face cluing Daryl in suddenly.

“You little shit. Where is it? “

Jesus laughs tossing Daryl the two pieces of the tent he had tucked in his pocket and motioning under the car where the missing pole was stashed. Daryl crouches down getting on his hands and knees to reach the pole groaning as he stands back up when his knee screams for him to take it slower. He ignores it and gets the tent constructed in less than 2 minute after.

“I dunno why you always gotta fuck wit me”

Daryl says while standing back and admiring his work. He could have done this on the first try if Jesus hadn't gone and hid shit. Jesus leans forward again more serious than before.

“I just wanted you to talk to me again. You’ve been ignoring me all week. The car ride too.”

“I aint ignoring ya.”

“Daryl.”

Jesus voice sounds unamused. Daryl shuffles before turning to the center of the camp site to build a firepit. He needs to start working on getting some light in the camp site before the sun is completely gone. He doesn't answer Jesus for a long moment so the scout hops down from the car and approaches him. As he nears, Daryl nervously spits out a change of topic.

“Where is Rick anyway, said he would be right back.”

He can feel Jesus still where he stands behind him.

“He isn't coming back. At least not for a while.”

Daryl stops what he is doing straightening his back and looking at Jesus who has his hands on his hips and a patient look on his face. He pushes the panic down.  

“The fuck ya mean?”

Jesus looks a little guilty and crosses his arms over his chest a gesture that Daryl recognizes as one of Jesus nervous habits.

“I mean Rick is intentionally not here right now. He wants us to talk.”

Daryl paces around the fire pit he started constructing waving his arm roughly at Jesus when he speaks.  

“You in on this? Everyone trying to trick the dumb Redneck now?”

Jesus face softens.

“No Daryl. That's not..”

“What? you expect me to believe you ain't in on this, how'd ya know Rick wasn't gonna come back? that he wants us to talk? Yall planning this shit.”

Jesus steps towards Daryl his hands up palms out. His eyes imploring Daryl to trust him. Daryl takes a couple deep breaths trying to keep his head clear. Something Jesus had been helping him do at night when he woke from his nightmares hyperventilating and sweating. Jesus watches Daryl carefully he thinks he has gotten better at calming him he thinks he has learned how to get passed Daryl's feral self defense but whenever it's put to the test he starts to doubt it.

“Daryl, I knew about the point of this trip but it wasn't my idea. I still don't even know why you’ve been avoiding me. Rick just asked me to come on this trip and he can be pretty convincing when he wants to be.”

Daryl still looks upset but he nods at the comment about Rick. He knows first hand how convincing Rick is when he wants something.

“You still went along with it.”

Daryls voice has less venom in it now. He isn't mad at Jesus. He isn't even mad at Rick though he is going to have words with him about this whole trip.

“He didn't even ask me untill after you had agreed to go. He sort of cornered me into it. I wanted to say no but...I also missed you.“

Daryl feels his face heat at Jesus words so he turns back to the fire and starts standing sticks against each other pilling dry leaves in the center between them. Jesus takes his gloves off and places them in his trench coat pocket before kneeling down and stacking loose rocks around the edges of the firewood Daryl is stacking. Jesus peeks at Daryl through the sheet of hair that's hanging over his shoulder.

“I went along with it, you're right. Do you think I shouldn't have?”

Daryls hands still before he stands up hitting his hands against his pants. He chews on his lip then squats back down and joins Jesus in stacking the Rocks around the edges. His nervous movements don't bother Jesus. He’s used to the restless ways Daryl deals with things. It's been a long silent moment and Jesus is concentrating diligently on stacking rocks. Giving it much more attention that it really requires trying to be patient while Daryl decides how to say whatever it is he wants to say. Jesus knows if he waits he will get an answer but the anticipation builds anyway the more time pases.

“I think Rick woulda got cha here anyway. Maybe knocked you out and stuffed ya in the trunk.”

Jesus laughs now nodding his head. He is relieved by the way Daryl seems to be taking this odd situation in stride.

“You're right. That man finds a way.”

It's quiet again but not awkwardly so. Daryl manages to get the fire lit so Jesus turns back to the car's trunk to pull out the camping chairs. He takes a moment just moving things around in the back of the car steeling himself for what he is about to say.

“Daryl?”

“Mm?”

“Can we talk? About whatever's got you upset with me? “

“Ain't nothin goin on.”

“So you were avoided me all week for no reason?”

“I said I wasn't avoiding ya”

“And I’m not stupid.”

When Jesus says that Daryl takes a deep breath. This was going to suck. He was not good at talking things out.

“I didn't say you was stupid.”

“I’d have to be to believe that nothing has changed and that you weren't avoiding me.”

Daryl sits in his chair pushing his forehead into his palms with his elbows on his knees. He feels something nudge his arm and when he looks Jesus is handing him a flask. They sit side by side in their folding camping chairs. Daryl’s the same ugly shade of red as the tent Jesus in a army green version with cup holders. The fire a few feet infront of them is doing a good job of keeping the chilly bite of night air tolerable. The sun has finally fallen completely and the buzzing sounds of the woods at night fills the air.

“This part a Rick’s plan too?”

He asks as he takes the Flask from Jesus and tosses back a big swig.

“Nope, this was my genius idea. Rick told me I was going to be coming on this trip and I figured I could use a little liquid courage.”

“What you need courage for, s’just us.”

Jesus ducks his head when he hears “us” he can't help how much he likes the way that sounds coming out of Daryl’s mouth.

“You always tell me you aren't good at talking about stuff. Well I’m not either. Not personal stuff at least.”

“Whats personal about this?”

Jesus sighs leaning back and taking another sip. Daryl fascinates him. His direct approach to things and his refusal to make assumptions.

“You are really gonna make me work for this aren't you?”

“I don't know what yer talking about.”

Daryl wants to keep his hands busy but he has nothing to do, no arrows to clean, no animals to skin so he just wraps and unwraps a loose thread from his jeans around his finger.

“Does that usually work? Pretending you have no idea what's going on until people give up trying to talk to you?”

Jesus doesn't mean that as a jab he is genuinely curious wanting to understand why Dary, someone who can clearly read between the lines, refuses to accept certain things no matter how many times he is told or how clear Jesus makes it. Daryl just grunts. He didn't intend to do it, turn away from things he didn't want to accept. For a long time he refused to accept that he could be Rick's right hand man. He shied away from the way people looked to him in the group as Rick's second in command he didn't mean to run from it then, it just happened but just like Carol did then Jesus picked up on it right away. He shared that quality with Carol, his ability to read people and an adaptable personality. Daryl starts to realize that he can't get out of this. Just like he never could with her. He feels a bit of sweat starting to prickle his neck. Jesus rolls his eyes handing Daryl the flask again and bringing an entire bottle of Jack Daniels out of his trench coat. Daryls eyebrows shoot up.

“Flask wasn't doin’ it for ya?”

“No, clearly it wasn't.”

Jesus temper sounds a little short but his gaze is on the flames in front of them and the only sign that he is upset is the tight way his hand grips the bottles neck.

The Lookout : Rick and Maggie

Rick and Maggie share a bowl of stale cheese popcorn as they watch the two men in the clearing set up camp together. Rick lowers his binoculars looking over at Maggie.

“The alcohol was a great idea. I didn't even think about givin’ ‘em somethin’ like that.”

Maggie scrunches up her eyebrows and shakes her head.

“That wasn't me, I thought you gave that to Jesus.”

Rick grins and laughs picking his binoculars backup and leaning forward but doesn't take his eyes off Maggie.

“That sneaky little devil calls himself Jesus but he swiped that from the pantry.”

“ I don't blame him, we basically locked him in the closet with his crush and told em they weren't comin’ out till they kissed.”

Rick has to hold his sides as he laughs. He looks fondly at Maggie who looks so much younger when she smiles. Rick thinks back to where they met on the farm it seems so long ago but it was really only a year ago or two maybe. So much can happen in that amount of time in today's world. Rick looks back to the men in the camp, he hopes that they realize that and can stop fighting a good thing.  

The Campsite: Jesus and Daryl

“What did Rick say to ya, ‘bout why we was going on this trip?”

Jesus looks over at Daryl but he doesn't answer. He just sips directly from the bottle in his hand and stares.

“What?”

Dary asks his heart rate is spiking. He knows what he talked about with Rick and he was damn near crawling out of his skin then. He doesn't know how he will handle it if that's what Rick talked to Jesus about. He doesn't understand why his brother is meddling. Why he can't just let Daryl be. He wanted to explain to Rick why he isnt any good for Jesus but he wouldn't listen even if Daryl had the words and if Rick went to Jesus for the same reason Daryl is gonna strangle him.

“I don't know if I should tell you.”

Daryl stares at Jesus, blue eyes locked in a tense challenge.

“What ya mean?”

“Well I’ve asked you twice now why you have been avoiding me. You refused to answer. I don't know if I should tell you what Rick said to me. It might be the perfect bargaining chip.”

“Always gotta have an angle”

Jesus pulls his feet into his seat and tucks the bottle between his crossed legs as he turns his body to look directly at Daryl.

“If you want I’ll just go sit in the car. I’m not going to make you talk to me. I told Rick as much.”

Daryl hesitates a moment. He doesn't want Jesus to go. He had missed him too in all honesty but he also was terrified of this. He had been fine when he was just hanging out with Jesus in their trailer over the last few months telling himself he could just ignore his feelings. Shove them down so deep that they could never surface. After talking to Rick last week he couldn't get it out of his head. Rick had said anyone with eyes could see he had feelings for Jesus and suddenly he was hyper aware of everything. He could feel how often he looked at Jesus .It was like he was magnetically pulled to his side. Always wandering to stand next to him or sit beside him, like his feet were moving before the thought even registered in his mind. He could see everyone else noticing it and he felt like he had a neon sign over his head that read Gay. He had never talked about his sexuality with anyone in his family. Never needed to. Suddenly it seemed like everyone knew already and Daryl didn't know how to deal with it. Jesus is still watching him and he looks as though he is about to get up and go do exactly what he said. His nerves had been on edge as soon as he offered to go off and leave Daryl because as honest as he had been when he said it he really didn't want to do it. He moves to stand up when Daryl finally speaks

“ Dont. you can stay it's just…”

Daryl hangs his head. He is going to have to tell Jesus whats going on to find out what Rick told him. His mouth feels dry and the burn of whisky doesn't help that but it does make him feel a little more bold. This is his third shot and Daryl thinks he may have become a light weight since the days of Dixon trailer parties. Jesus waits patiently for Daryl to continue.

“Rick talked to me last week. When I stayed at Alexandria. Said I’s obvious, hanging round ya all the time. Said he thought there was something going on. I just didn't want noone getting the wrong idea.”

Jesus nods weighing his words before he says them.

“You didn't want them getting the wrong idea about what? Us? Or you?”

Jesus expression is guarded when Daryl peeks at it. Now was his chance to find out if what Rick said was really true. He had tried not to hope much and that wasn't hard considering the way Daryl had been turning tale whenever they saw each other. For Jesus the way Daryl had started leaning on him, needing his presence, was a victory. Everytime Daryl passed up a run so he could be there when Jesus returned from his, everytime Daryl found a reason to sit beside Jesus felt like an honor. Daryls heart is pounding. He can do this. He can tell Jesus , he knows Jesus won't judge him. He remembers when Aaron had figured it out, it was so much easier with Aaron Daryl isn't sure if that's because Aaron hadn’t made him say it or if it was just because he hadn't looked as pretty and vulnerable as Jesus does.

“It ain't the wrong idea bout me, just bout us.”

Daryl can't look at Jesus now. He stares at the orange and yellow flickers in front of him and picks up a stick to poke the fire just to have something to do.

“What idea do you think they were getting?”

Daryl is frustrated now. He doesn't want to come right out and say it but Jesus is trying to prod him to. He is using the same, refuse to read between the lines, tactic Daryl does but against him and Daryl really doesn't want to admit how annoying it is. Jesus already knows and Daryl thinks his amused twinkling eyes say he loves having the shoe on the other foot.

“Come on, you know. That we…. Cuz we's always together and living together… Shit I didn't want noone thinking...”

Daryl gives up, he can't find the words. He doesn't know how to say that he didn't want anyone thinking Jesus would be dumb enough to love a guy like him without insulting Jesus.  Jesus sighs and sips his whisky. The light of the fire is flickering across his face making his hair glow a golden shade of brown and his eyes look as bright as they do in the sunshine. He decides to have mercy on Daryl. He does know what Daryl is hinting at, that people might think they were a couple. Something Jesus himself had considered on a few late sleep deprived nights out on runs when he missed Daryl and knew he would be waiting for him at the gate when he got back.

“Would it be the wrong idea?”

Jesus voice is small and hesitant as he looks at Daryl. Neither of them say anything. Daryl was afraid of this. He knows Jesus was giving him the same looks he gave Jesus . He wasn't dumb but he knows this would be. He knows that if Jesus just knew him better, saw who he really was he wouldn't want anything to do with him.

“You don't know me. Wouldn't be askin that if ya did.”

Jesus scoffs and grabs Daryl's flask refilling it and handing it back while he thinks.

“Daryl. I’m just going to be direct. I like you. I do. It sucked this week when you were running away from me and ignoring me. I thought I’d done something and I couldn't figure out what it was. I thought maybe I’d scared you off because I was being too obvious but then Rick talked to me after the meeting. He told me He noticed we had been getting close. He thanked me for bringing you home and then he threatened me”

Daryls head shoots up.

“He did what?”

Daryls fists ball around the arms of his chair. Jesus smirks at Daryl's protective reaction a small thrill shooting up his spine despite the logical part of his brain shouting that he really doesn't need anyone to protect him. Normally he finds that sort of thing insulting but coming from Daryl it feels much more endearing. Daryl doesn't defend people because he thinks they can't handle themselves he does it because he cares and Jesus loves being on the list of people Daryl cares about.

“It was kind of funny actually. He was just warning me not to hurt you or else I’d have to deal with him. I didn't point out that I could knock him on his ass faster than he could blink. I just let him do the big brother thing. It was cute really, he cares about you. He wants what's best for you. I do to so I get it I guess. I can't say I wouldn't do the same thing if some guy was cozying up to you. I’d want to make sure they knew not to fuck it up.”

Daryl is staring at Jesus hearing him swear wasn't necessarily uncommon but It might be a result of the alcohol because Jesus eyes do look a little glassy. Daryl hears Jesus say “Some guy” in his head again and he swallows a nervous laugh. It felt right to hear it but he hadn't ever heard it from anyone out loud before. There has never been a time in his life that another person casually accepted his sexuallity like that. It feels so strange and so good to Daryl and he takes a big gulp from the flask. Rick had talked to Jesus about the same thing he had talked to Daryl about but he finds it a little harder to hold the grudge he was harboring before. He shakes his head following the burn of the alcohol.

“Ricks gotta mind his own business.”

“Well if he did that we would be less drunk and ignoring each other so I don't really have it in me to be mad at him.”

Daryls body feels relaxes and when he looks over at Jesus he sees the man has kicked his feet out and has slouched low down into his seat looking contentedly at the flames. His whole body feels warm. Jesus decides not to mention what else Rick had told him when he sees the relaxed way Daryl is sipping his flask.

“I’m sorry.”

Daryl hears himself say the words before he decides to say anything at all. Jesus looks at him with a small smile.

“For ignoring me? Or for telling me I don't know you?”

Daryl had forgotten he had said that.

“Ignoring you, I’s right about you not known’ me. There’s a whole lot I aint never told ya.”

“Well not everything I know about you is things you’ve told me. Besides you don't know about me either. That doesn't mean you don't know me.”

Daryl swallows a lump. He feels like there is no going back.

“I wanna know ‘bout ya.”

He almost looks away but he pushes the urge away, he likes the fuzzy way Jesus smiles at him when he says it.

“How about we trade information then? Something about you for something about me.”

Daryl chews on his thumbnail. He wants to say yes but he doesn't know where to start.

“A’ight, You first.”

Jesus isnt surprised by that condition he leans forward and clears his throat.

“Alright, well I grew up in a group home. Kids came and went but I was there for about 9 years until I turned 18 and left with nothing but a backpack and 200 dollars.”

Daryl takes a moment to absorb that. He had pictured Jesus growing up in a nice suburban home with loving parents and good grades. He seems so well adjusted and tidy. Daryl decides he will just meet Jesus secrets with the same version of his.

“I grew up in backwoods Georgia. Lived in a trailer most a my life after my ma burned the house down smokin’ in bed. Lost her and everythin’ else when that happened. Cept Pa’s bike and the clothes I’s wearin’.”

Jesus scoots his chair closer to both Daryl and the fire leaning his head sideways and curling his knees up in front of him. He looks so invested and Daryl feels like he could run right out of this camp if he could just make his legs move.

“I learned martial arts after I got jumped on the street for being gay. I got the shit beat out of me so bad I had to miss school for 2 weeks. After that I didn't want to ever feel that helpless again.“

Daryl looks at the cracked leather of his boots stretched out in front of him he answers quickly before he has time to back out.

“Ma Pa used to beat the shit outta me. All the time, didn't need no reason most a the time. Merle used ta try and keep me from it till he was gone in Juvie or out the house. Then it was just me and Pa.”

“Merle?”

Jesus asks for clarification.

“He was my brother. Not like Rick, he was blood, just about all he was too. He was a nasty son of a bitch. Racist, sexist, Homophobic, Fucked with my head as much as pa.”

Jesus looks solemn for a moment. He has to remind himself that neither of those men are around for him to beat up but the desire is intense.

“Rick said something about him. Said he should have gotten you from the sanctuary so he could be a better brother to you than Merle ever was.”

Daryls heart feels heavy. Rick is already a better brother to him than Merle. He hoped Rick knew that.

“I’m glad it was you though.”

Jesus looks surprised.

“Why?”

Daryl ducks his head.

“I dunno.”

Jesus giggles, honest to god giggles and Daryl's ears turn red.

“What’s funny?”

His voice is gravely from the whisky. He's starting to feel sloppy and happy. He missed whisky by the fire. It had been a long time.

“You're just cute.”

Daryls squirms in his seat.

“Knock that off.”

Jesus smiles fondly.

The Lookout: Rick and Maggie

Rick sighs leaning back and turning towards Maggie who is looking tired. Watching the two men talk without being able to hear what's being said can get a little tedious and Maggie has driven for hours and set up a camp site all on her own while pregnant. She must be beat.

“I remember back when I was workin’ in the force I used to have ta stake out a place with Shane and he would always fall asleep ‘fore anythin’ happened.”

Maggie looks towards Rick groggily. She hadn't known that Shane, Rick's best friend. She had only met him after. She had known the Shane that was consumed with guilt and jealousy the man who turned on his partner. She smiles softly and grabs another handful of their dwindling popcorn.

“Well I can't say I ever wanted ta be like Shane before but if napping comes with the package I might change my mind.”

Rick chuckles leaning to bump his shoulder into Maggies.

“I think you’d a been a good police officer. Women sometimes had trouble workin’ the job. People didn't take em serious or somethin’, it got under more than a few people's skin they ended up doin’ somethin’ stupid tryin’ to prove they could...but it wouldn't a got to you. Same way you ended up leadin’ Hilltop I think you’d a been a sheriff in no time.”

Maggie leans towards Rick resting her head on his shoulder while she chews.

“Thankyou Rick. I forget sometimes that you used to be an officer but it's just ‘casue that's who you are. You look out for people.”

“That's who you are too.”

They smile at each other again before turning back to the less than eventful happenings in the camp.

The Campsite: Jesus and Daryl

Jesus is still looking at Daryl with a goofy grin when he starts talking.

“I think it's my turn to share something . Hmm. Um my first boyfriend was a really jerky closeted guy. The whole thing had to be kept secret and he told everyone I had raped him when they found out we were dating. I had to change schools.”

Daryl can't hide his shock.

“Seriously? “

“Honest. I haven't had a serious relationship since. I just couldn't.”

“What a coward. Throwing ya under the bus jus’ cuz he was scared a lookin’ in the mirror. Hope he didn't make it.”

Jesus bust out laughing. The way Daryl unquestioningly takes Jesus side, not even batting an eye, it sends tingles over Jesus’s skin and he finds he might be a little more drunk than he realized. He looks at Daryl for a moment seeing the way the dirt on his arms makes the curve of his muscles stand out. The frayed edges of his shirts arm hole sticking out under his leather vest. Jesus takes a big breath realizing he forgot to breath that entire time. He turns his gaze to the fire so he can gather himself.

“There's no way he made it he had a maid and a driver. He probably didn't even tie his own shoes.”

Daryl laughs now too.

“What a winner, why ya even bother with em?”

Jesus sombers up a bit.

“Well I sort of figured it was be with him or be alone forever. Didn't really turn out like I was wrong.”

Daryl doesn't know what to say. He wants to tell Jesus that isnt true but he can't make the words form it's like his tongue is too heavy. Jesus sees the gears turning in Daryl's head and they share a meaningful glance.

“Ya had it rougher than I thought. “

Jesus smirks spinning his half full bottle between his fingers. That isn't the first time he has heard that from someone. He never quite figured out why people always assumed he has it all together. To him it's obvious how much of a mess he is.

“You had it just about as rough as I’d figured. Which was much more rough than you deserved.”

The way Daryls chest expanded when Jesus spoke made him feel like he was going to burst. He felt for a brief moment like he might cry but he pushes it down. There is something so warm and comfortable about talking to Jesus that makes Daryl just wanted to curl up in it and never leave.

“I ain't nothin’.”

Daryl says it like he has said it to himself 100 times today already. He remembers hearing it everyday from his Pa, from Merle, from the cops always taling him looking for a reason to lock him up. Jesus’s voice is a welcome distraction from those thoughts.

“Rick told me something else. He told me you said I could do better. Is that true?”

Daryl squeezes his eyes closed. Silently cursing Rick again, he hands his empty flask over to Jesus who takes it but doesn't refill it, waiting for his answer. Daryl realizes Jesus thinks he won't answer, thinks he will need to keep something in his pocket to bargain with.

“Ya, cuz ya can. Could do a hell of a lot better than some middle aged, good fer nothin’ redneck, who don't know a damn thing about relationships.”

Jesus tentatively gets up leaving the flask behind and moving to stand close to the fire, he gestures for Daryl to do the same. When Daryl is stood beside him he turns standing nearly chest to chest with Daryl whose breath catches in his throat. Jesus looks powerful and the way shadows are flickering across his features only enhances it. He looks every bit like his name sake. He touches the bottle to Daryl's chest and when there hands meet on the neck Daryl thinks he might pass out.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully. You are one of the strongest people I've ever met. You're brave and smart and loyal and you have a big heart. The very first thing I noticed about you was the fierce closeness you share with your family. It amazed me and the more I was around you the more I wanted that closeness for myself. I never stayed at Hilltop long before you and Maggie showed up. I'm no good at relationships I don't know how to do this but I want to try.”

Daryl is taking small shallow breaths unable to keep himself from watching the way Jesus’s lips move while he talks. Standing so close together feels like the whole world has melted away and they are the only two things that exist. Jesus reaches up and trails a delicate touch from Daryl's hairline to under his chin. The shorter man getting a better view of Daryl’s face looking up at him. Daryls organs feel like they are shaking and he brings the bottle to his lips feeling the ghost of Jesus own on it. Every nerve in Jesus’s body is on fire. He can't remember the last time he put himself out there like this he feels like he is walking the plank. When Daryl brings the bottle away from his mouth Jesus watches his lips. He sees the way  they shine with the remnants of whisky and Jesus unconsciously licks his own. Thankfully Daryl speaks up.

“‘M scarred. I never … I never nothin’ Hangin’ around ma brother and his skinhead friends I couldn't let noone know. Till It was too late.”

“It’s not too late.”

Jesus crushes the distance between them bringing his hands behind Daryl's head and burying them in his hair. Daryl closes his eyes at the contact.

“Is this okay?”

Jesus voice is just a whisper. Daryl nods his head and when he does his forehead lightly bumps into the top of Jesus head. They stand their for a moment until Daryl can feel Jesus’s breath on his face.

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Daryls heart is in his throat but he nods again and gives a sort of grunt unable to speak through the tightness in his throat. The gentle press of Jesus lips against his feels like the first breath after a coma. His entire body is electric and he is dropping the bottle of whisky to tangle his hands into Jesus hair. A surprised gasp leaves Jesus before it's smothered by the fierce pushback from Daryl's lips. Daryl finds that kissing is less about knowing what you're doing than he thought. His body knows and his mind doesn't have time to question it. Jesus places a hand on Daryl's chest breaking them apart.

“Hold on.”

Jesus lips look plump and bruised and his eyes are wide paired with his wild hair Daryl thinks he has never seen him look more beautiful, a similar thought is passing through Jesus’s mind when he catches his breath.

“M’ sorry”

The doubt Daryl had avoided before is bubbling up now.

“No, that was perfect. I’m just… I needed a second.”

Jesus thumb is gently stroking Daryl's collarbone and Daryl's hands have shifted to cup both of Jesus shoulders. Daryl can feel a slight shake under his hands so he pulls Jesus in holding the back of his head as he tucks it into the crook of his neck. The embrace feeling somehow just as electrifying as the kiss. Jesus lets out a shaky sigh gripping Daryls vest in his fist and relaxing into him. Daryl’s mind is spinning. He doesn't ever want to let go. There is a sound in the distance a rustling and a clang followed by a thud. Both men freeze in their embrace.

“Do you think?”

”Shh.”

Daryl strains his ears his mind turning over the possibilities. He pulls Jesus back looking into his face still gripping him as he gestures with his head for Jesus to circle around and come at the noise from the other side. Jesus understands and nods quickly pulling his beanie and gloves from his pockets and putting them on.

The Lookout: Rick and Maggie

Rick untangles himself from the collapsed and broken camping chair as Maggie tries to catch her breath between fits of laughter. Rick had been standing on his chair trying to hold in his excitement as he witnessed the scout and the archer finally kiss. It took every bit of restraint  he had not to hoot out a victory cry. Then his foot had gone through the worn fabric of the chair's seat and the entire thing had collapsed the metal bars clanking together before Rick hit the ground hard.  He manages to free his leg from where it's trapped.

Maggie stands to try and help Rick but he waves her off the red in his cheeks finally fading. He brushes his hands on his pants before returning his gaze to the men at the camp site. He moves his binoculars around trying to figure out where they went and when he can't find them his heart rate spikes.

“Maggie?”

She is assessing the busted chair with a clicking tongue.

“Hmm?”

She asks her thoughts elsewhere.

“Maggie? Where did they go?”

Maggies attention snaps back to the current situation and she quickly scrambles over to her own binoculars. The two of them scan the clearing again their panic edging closer as Maggie can't find them either.

“I dunno they were right there just a minute ago. You don't think somethin’ happened?”

“Maybe they went into the tent?”

Rick asks hopefully, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. A rustle to his left his Rick tensing and then there is a hand wrapped around his neck and a voice next to his ear.

“I don't think they are in the tent.”

Jesus’s voice is a mock version of Rick's as he says it, the southern drawl sounding goofy coming from him. Rick relaxes not worried now that the arm pressed to his throat will end his life.

“Jesus, you scared the crap outta me.”

In front of him Maggie is clutching her chest and glaring up at Daryl who has both his arms locked around her pinning her arms to her sides above the elbow. It looks more like a hug than an attack. Rick thinks Jesus grip might looks similarly harmless to Maggie and he smiles the relief finally flooding through him. They were all accounted for and unharmed.

“So. You guys worked it out then?”

Daryl drops his arms from around Maggie and steps forward like he might hit Rick but Jesus has spun them around and placed himself in front of Rick just as fast.

“We sure did, Maggie looks pretty tired, scheming sure takes alot out of a pregnant lady huh?”

Maggie looks at the ground guiltily as Jesus continues talking.

“Since we have a run to go on in the morning I think we outta rest up. You got watch Rick right?”

Jesus asks but he is already walking towards the clearing down the hill followed closely by Daryl and Rick sees that it isn't actually a question at all. He looks behind him seeing Maggie zip the flaps of the tent closed and realizes he is alone. He shifts turning around again and sighs.

The next morning the group decides to take the car to the town 2 miles over rather than walk for Maggie's sake. When Rick falls asleep on the way there the group takes mercy on him and clears out the clinic without him. Maggie finds as many excuses as she can to wander away from the two men when she sees the way their arms brush or their gazes lock. Rick might have made a mess interrupting her plans but he certainly sped things up too. She grabs a bottle of minty toothpaste so Rick can give it to Michonne. She thinks that there ought to be a good reward in it for him.

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