#the second one has many flaws (and I forgot to make him ears) and is pretty useless

[diari0deglierrori]

Sometimes I wonder if they ever made it to his hands, and if not, did they at least find a home? :(

[tojisangrylittlething]

Can you do Gojo Satoru x reader (also his age like idk they went to schopl together) and they r dating but the reader almost dies and then treats their death mockingly as if as a joke? How would Gojo react?

Have a lovely day! 🪷

summary: death has always been a joke to you, but your boyfriend isn't very pleased with your sick sense of humor.

tw: canon typical violence, near-death experience, cussing, pre-hidden inventory arc, hurt to comfort

wc: 3.4k

a/n: your wish is my command lovely anon! sorry it took me a bit to complete! you're my first ever ask, so i hope this is what you wanted <3

satoru is currently walking through the courtyard of jujutsu tech. it's his second year as a student and his reputation as the strongest grows by the day. he feels incredibly lucky to have met his friends, such as suguru and ieiri.

but then there's you.

the bright-eyed first year who caught his attention the minute you walked through the doors of the school. shyly introducing yourself, holding out your hand shakily with a timid smile adorning your breathtaking features.

satoru was starstruck, his brain short-circuited and he forgot how to fucking breathe. it took him at least 2 whole minutes to shake your hand and give you an adequate greeting.

as you walked away with nanami and haibara, satoru couldn't help but watch as you did. your hips swaying and hands swinging freely at your sides, laughing at something haibara said. god, satoru will never forget your smile for as long as he lives.

suguru about had to unleash a curse on his best friend to get him to come back to planet earth.

from that day forward, satoru knew that he had to have you. whatever satoru gojo wants, satoru gojo gets.

after a few months of pining and romantic gestures, satoru finally convinced you to go on a date. as the date was coming to a close, he kissed you under the vibrant lights on the city streets of tokyo. the only time that he ever hesitated was when he asked you to be his partner, to be the one who loved and cared for him despite his flaws.

satoru couldn't help but kiss you again the second you said yes, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of joy.

now, six months later, your relationship has bloomed into something exquisite. you've shared many laughs, cries, and tender moments that satoru cherishes deeply in his soul.

he currently walks to see yaga, something about having a new mission for him. you're supposed to be back from your own respective mission today and satoru hopes he'll get to see you before he leaves.

satoru hears his phone ringing from his pocket, he reaches down and grabs it, eyes scanning over the caller ID.

shoko is calling...

he furrows his brows, a bit confused as to why she would be calling. shrugging it off, he presses the green answer button and holds it up to his ear.

"shoko! to what do i owe the-"

the sound of her sniffling immediately stops satoru in his tracks.

"shoko? what's going on?"

he hears her clear her throat and she sighs. gojo chews the dead skin off his bottom lip anxiously, speculating what she could say next.

"something happened to y/n. we're in the medical wing."

satoru feels his heart drop straight to his stomach, eyes growing wide at her words. he thinks he mumbles something along the lines of i'm on my way, but he's not entirely sure. the blood rushing through his ears makes his hearing sound muffled.

he half-hazzardly shoves his phone back into his pocket, taking off toward the medical wing of the school. his thoughts consumed with nothing but you.

---

when satoru arrives, he's shocked by what he sees.

there you are, lying in the white cot with your eyes closed. your skin is abnormally pale, the vibrant glow you always held has now turned dull. you're wrapped in bandages and an IV drip is connected to the top of your hand.

satoru keeps his face blank, afraid that if he shows any emotion he will break down. internally, his brain is screaming for you, what could have possibly happened to you that you're in this condition?

he always swore to you that he'd protect you, not only was that his job as one of the strongest sorcerers of the age, but also as your devoted boyfriend.

"you know i will always protect you, right my love?"

you smiled sweetly at him, eyes crinkling at the corners and nose scrunching up adorably, "of course i know that toru."

that interaction plays in his head like a broken record. he wasn't there for you.

shoko approaches him cautiously, unsure of what her friend is thinking. satoru's face is void of emotions, but she can see the turmoil swimming in his eyes, even from behind his sunglasses. his usually radiant blue eyes are now dark and frigid.

shoko reaches her hand out to touch him, but pulls it back deciding against it. she knows satoru has to be on high alert right now, so surely his infinity is on.

satoru finally looks at shoko, remorse is written all over her face. her eyes are slightly downcast and there's a frown on her lips. she looks him up and down, trying to assess what he's feeling.

he looks back to you, "what happened?" satoru mumbles out, his voice is eerily calm, but there's a waver behind it.

shoko turns her gaze to where gojo's is, the events of the mission playing over in her head. she shakes her head, willing those images to go away.

"the intel was wrong. it was supposed to be a grade 3, but it was a grade 1."

satoru stays quiet as he takes in the information. he clenches his fists in anger, how could they possibly mistake something like that? their one miscalculation leads to the light of his life on their deathbed.

shoko takes his silence as her cue to continue, "the curse threw an attack aimed at me, but y/n threw themselves in front of me. they took the blow head on."

shoko hears the shake in her own voice and feels the tears begin to gather in her waterline. she always viewed you as a younger sibling, looking out for you and having your back whenever you would need her.

"i used my technique and healed them the best i could, but now we have to play the waiting game."

shoko turns to gojo after finishing her sentence and she becomes even more worried for him.

gojo's fists shake from how tightly he clutches down on them, his knuckles are extruding due to the force he is using. shoko can hear the grinding of his teeth with how brutally he is clenching them, any harder he might break a tooth.

before shoko can stop herself, she puts a comforting hand on his arm. she's shocked to find that his infinity is off.

shoko composes herself then, hand squeezing his arm comfortingly, "i'm so sorry gojo, i'm so so sorry."

satoru turns his eyes to her and sees the apologetic look she wears on her face. he sighs and lets go of his fists, shooting her a small smile, "it's not your fault shoko, don't blame yourself."

silence falls across the room then, the only sound being heard is the steady beeping of the heart monitor you're attached to. satoru and shoko are unable to stop staring at you, each of their hearts breaking in different ways for the state that you're in.

"i'm going to wait with them until they wake up."

gojo says nothing else as he plops himself in the uncomfortable chair next to your bedside. he grasps your hand in his, your hand is cold and it makes his insides twist.

shoko watches gojo for a moment, noting how gentle he is with you and the soft look in his eyes. she can physically see all of the love that walking behemoth holds for you.

she bows slightly and makes her way out of the room, running off to tell yaga what has happened and that gojo will not leave your side. she knows him well enough to know that he would cause an absolute shitstorm before anyone takes him away from you.

as soon as shoko leaves, satoru can't help the anxiety that eats away at him. all of the worst possible scenarios being the only thing he can think of.

he frowns deeply and uses his free hand to rub at his eyes, not wanting to shed any tears over something that may not happen.

satoru glides his thumb softly over your wrist, he's able to feel your pulse and it's weak. this causes him to sigh, taking in your figure and the injuries all over your skin.

"wake up soon my love, i'll be waiting."

---

you have no idea what time it must be when you wake up, the lighting in the room blinding you from how bright it is.

this causes you to squint your eyes, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the sudden intrusion to your vision.

when you look around you, you see that your in a room in the medical wing of the school. since becoming a sorcerer, you've grown familiar with the disgusting hospital white that paints the walls. the smell alone making you scrunch up your face with how putrid it is.

after a few minutes of observation, you feel something in your left hand.

you look in that direction and see your beautiful boyfriend satoru. he is bent forward, laying his head on the bed you also lay in with his head resting on his forearms. his eyes are closed and he's snoring softly, a stark contrast to how tightly he is gripping your hand.

you can't help the small smile that finds its way to your lips, your free hand reaching for him. you run your fingers lightly through his snow-white hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

your movements cause him to stir, he faintly and his eyes blink open slowly.

he glances around the room briefly when his eyes finally find yours, the smile you wear is so tender that satoru believes it to be an illusion.

you try to speak to him but you start coughing violently, your throat dry from being asleep for so long.

satoru scrambles to your bedside table, grabbing the water cup and holding it to your lips.

you grasp at it and drink it quickly, your body feels as if it hasn't drank in days.

when you've finished the water, satoru plucks it from you and sets it back on the table. he faces you again and squeezes your hand, smiling at you affectionately, "welcome back, baby."

you return the loving smile and squeeze his hand back, a rasp to your voice, "hi."

satoru cradles your head, his eyes taking in every single feature on your face. his smile falters almost imperceptibly, his eyes looking directly into yours, "almost lost you there."

you wave him off, chuckling extraneously, "it's fine satoru, could've been worse."

his frown seems to deepen even more, "you almost died, baby. i don't understand how it could be worse."

you look around nonchalantly with a light expression on your face, "oh, i don't know, i could actually be dead."

satoru furrows his brows at you, pulling away from you slightly, "baby, i'm serious. you could have died."

you grin at him, honestly finding his serious behavior amusing, "it's no big deal toru."

satoru completely pulls away from you then, shocked by how your treating the situation, "no big deal? this is a big deal y/n."

you roll your eyes and snicker at him, hilarity dancing in your eyes, "no it's not satoru, it's just part of the job. although, that would not have been a cool way to go. only a grade one? come on." you groan out by the end, embarrassed that it wasn't a special grade that landed you here.

satoru is frozen in his spot, completely appalled at the way you're handling this. he thought of all the ways you would wake up, but he didn't account for this one.

sure, satoru has done incredibly reckless things, come on he's satoru gojo. he only commits those acts because he knows he has an insurance policy in place, his infinity. he's convinced the only thing that can kill him is himself.

you, however, do not have his technique.

yes, you're an incredibly powerful sorcerer, working your way up the ranks quickly. gojo believes that one day you'll sit beside him and suguru as the strongest.

but today is not that day.

you threw yourself at a walking hand grenade for fucks sake, the fact that you even survived is shocking. he's grateful to the gods that you did, but he only wishes you would take this a bit more earnestly.

satoru takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs back and forth absentmindedly.

"baby, i need you to listen to me carefully."

when he looks up at you, you're looking straight at him. you have a passive look on your face, a small smirk fixed on your lips, "satoru, i told you it's-"

satoru grip on your hands grows tighter, his eyebrows scrunching up in frustration and his eyes are full of anguish. he can't help the volume that his voice rises to, unable to hold back any longer, "no, no it's not fine! i almost fucking lost you today, and for what, because you decided to dive in front of something equivalent to a fucking missile?"

you roll your eyes at your boyfriend and yank your hands out of his grasp, your arms cross over your chest and you huff out in annoyance, the glare you send satoru cutting through your once light-hearted facade, "and what was i supposed to do? let shoko take the hit?"

satoru scoffs at that, the words spilling out of his mouth like an uncontrollable fire, "this isn't about shoko, this is about you. do you have no regard for your own life that you'd just throw it all away?"

you fire right back at him, annoyance beginning to boil in your gut and popping right out of the top, "i'm not throwing my fucking life away! shoko was about to be blown to smithereens! i accepted death when i became a sorcerer, have you?"

satoru cannot believe what he's hearing and it clearly shows on his face, his mouth morphs into a scowl and his eyes are so dark you can't even see his pupils anymore, "at least i wouldn't have wound up here, clinging to a life i obviously don't give a shit about."

the look on your face could kill anyone in a 5 mile radius, your eyes throwing daggers and your mouth shooting bullets, "maybe i should have died on that field, at least then i wouldn't have the honored one trying to dictate my life."

you're panting heavily, you can feel your body shaking with rage and you can hear the heart monitor beeping rapidly.

satoru is a different story.

his breathing is opposite of yours, it seems to have come to a halt. his pupils are blown wide and his mouth is open slightly, trying to see if he heard you correctly.

he sighs dejectedly and pinches the bridge of his nose. he's attempting to think of something to say, but he's coming up empty handed.

you hear him rustling about and turn your gaze back to him. you see him stand with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and looking completely deflated.

he looks through you with an empty stare trying to mask the pain he's feeling, mouth pulled into a thin line, "you know what? fine. if you want to go on a suicide run, fine, do what you wish. i will have no part in it."

what he says next is like a harpoon being shot through your heart.

"if you are that willing to leave everything behind, i want no part of you either."

you feel as if the world has stopped spinning on its axis. the gravity of his words crushing you, turning you into mere atoms of a human being.

regret begins to wash over you, an apology sitting on the tip of your tongue but you can't form the words. your breaths are now coming out in short pants, your heart and lungs feel like they're being shattered from the inside.

"i love you more than my dreams would ever allow, but i still want to be able to love you and not your corpse."

you put your head in your hands, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. you dig your nails into your cranium with so much strength you think you broke skin.

you don't even know if satoru is still here, too engrossed in the thought of him leaving you.

to others, your relationship may seem like a juvenile affair, but that's not the case.

in the world of jujutsu, you see and experience a multitude of things that a teenager should never have to go through. you're sent off like soldiers to war, fighting against something that is greater than yourselves. death is simply inevitable, it's in the job description. some sorcerers thrive, while others wither away.

joking about your impending demise has been your way of coping with it. an unhealthy coping mechanism, but what else are you supposed to do? live your life too tentatively and miss out on the beauty it has to offer?

that's why you loved satoru.

he was always a ray of sunshine in your life. a shining star in your dark universe, providing light and warmth in his wake. the day he asked you to be his significant other, you were beyond happy. the delicate glances he gives you, the soft kisses he greets and leaves you with, the love that he reserves only for you.

all of these things make it easier to face the horrors every time you leave the school because you know when you come home, satoru will be waiting for you with open arms.

without him? you don't know what you would do.

realizing that not having him in your life might soon be a reality, you break down into a sob. the faucet behind your eyes turned on and not stopping anytime soon. you're wailing so loud, it's a surprise no one has come in to investigate.

you grip the ends of the gown on your body, trying to ground yourself. you finally find the ability to speak, shouting i'm sorry over and over.

you're now convinced that satoru has left, leaving you to your own devices.

you're proven wrong when a familiar pair of warm arms wrap themselves around you.

satoru pulls you into his chest and you clutch the fabric of his uniform tightly in your hands. you're sobbing so hard that you think you might be sick.

"i'm sorry satoru, i'm sorry. please don't leave, don't leave me alone."

he doesn't say anything, just continues to hold you and cradle your head, rubbing his hand up and down the expanse of your back.

"i don't want to leave everything. i love my life, especially with you in it."

your sobs have calmed down into hiccups and sniffles, the tears now trickling down your cheeks.

"i-i want to live a long life with you, where we grow old and wrinkly and hobble around with a cane."

that gets a small chuckle out of satoru, "i have to admit baby, you'd look good in a moomoo."

you hit him on the shoulder with a small laugh, but quickly revert back to your serious manner, "i'm not kidding satoru, i love you and i want to be with you on this day, until our last day."

he grabs your face in his hands and angles you so you're looking right at him, "i love you, more than anything, but baby i need you to hear me."

he presses your forehead against his, staring directly into your eyes you can feel it in your soul, "i can't love you the way i want to if you're dead. i need you to promise me that you will look after yourself, i won't always be there to keep you in check. i need you to come back to me in one piece."

you think over it for a moment, satoru wants what's best for you, and you should want that too.

you whisper softly, afraid of ruining the moment, "i promise."

you seal the promise with a kiss, running your hands through satoru's hair while he grabs you by your waist to pull you closer.

you kiss each other with a newfound passion, the love you share untethered.

"jesus christ, really?"

"it's a miracle they didn't do anything else on this bed."

you try to pull away, flustered at being caught, but gojo keeps on kissing you with fervor. of course, not without throwing his middle finger up at his friends who chuckle behind him.

[thetomorrowshow]

last words

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

dedicated to everyone who asked what lizzie said that made jimmy stop trying to kill her :)

cw: past abuse, scars, reference violence

~

It’s been bothering Scott for a while, honestly. Several months. And now that he and Jimmy are . . . trying things out, it feels like the perfect time to ask him.

They’re in bed together, and it’s late morning on a day that Scott doesn’t have to work. Jimmy’s still staying at Lizzie’s place for the most part, but date night had gotten a bit . . . steamy, so Jimmy had texted his sister denying the need for a ride home and promising to return the next day. She had responded with a string of scandalized emojis that had made Jimmy blush and turn off his phone.

Jimmy’s been awake longer than Scott has, scrolling through his phone and snorting occasionally at whatever it is he sees. Scott watches him for a moment, eyes tracing across his bare chest and the scars found there.

He’d told Jimmy last night that his body was beautiful, perfect, gorgeous—even his scars. His many, many scars.

Most of the time, he can forget why they’re there. Some of them make that a little more difficult.

Even with the blanket pulled up nearly to his pecs, Scott can see most of the letters. Property of Xornoth, it reads. Somehow, it’s not even the one that makes him the angriest. The one on his back, the one that reads curious little bird, is one that he can hardly stand to look at, and the most confusing one is the small, even surgical scar just behind his ear. He loves Jimmy though, and loving Jimmy means loving all of him.

Impulsively, Scott presses a kiss to Jimmy’s shoulder. His partner starts, surprise quickly giving way to a smile.

“Hey, you, don’t go starting things again,” Jimmy tells him, poking Scott in the chest with his phone. Scott gestures to it, the question that had been nagging at him for so long coming to the front of his mind. He pushes it aside once again.

“When’s Lizzie coming by?”

Jimmy grimaces. “Don’t know. She didn’t much like me ignoring her last night, so she’s decided to ignore me.”

Scott had never had siblings, so he doesn’t know if this is a normal sibling relationship or not. Well, probably not ‘normal’, exactly, what with their past and their powers. But Jimmy doesn’t seem to find her behavior out of the ordinary, so Scott has to assume that it isn’t.

Which still, of course, brings him to his question.

“Can I ask you something? No obligation.”

No obligation is a system that works for now, but certainly has its flaws. They’d set it up on literally the second day of their relationship—if one of them asks a question with that clause, the other doesn’t have to answer if they don’t want to. Of course, Scott’s done his best to impress upon Jimmy that he has no obligation to answer any question, but that’s something they’re working on.

Scott never wants to pressure Jimmy into answering a question just because he forgot to add those two words that meant Jimmy didn’t have to answer. Hopefully, in time, they can progress beyond a need for it.

“Go for it,” Jimmy responds, and Scott can see on his phone that he’s closing the social media account he’d been browsing in favor of opening up his sketchpad app. He draws a couple of smiling turtles while Scott tries to figure out how to word his question.

He ought to have it figured out by now, seeing as he’s imagined asking it countless times. Now that it’s finally time for an answer, though, all proper words seem to have fled his brain.

“So . . . the fight. The big one, at the end of—everything. When you—and Lizzie—” Scott cuts himself off as he feels Jimmy stiffen beside him, finger frozen on the screen. “Sorry, it doesn’t matter,” he amends, reaching for his own phone.

“Wha—no, it’s fine!” Jimmy sits up, sheet slipping down to his waist, revealing the painful-looking ropey scar that curves down his side. He takes one of Scott’s hands in his, smiles with what appears to be a considerable amount of effort.

It feels stupid now, though. Stupid to bring up that day, or that time in general. Still, Jimmy wants to try to answer, so Scott makes himself finish the question.

“What did—well, you were fighting Lizzie, there at the end of the overall fight, just before—um, she said something to you. Can I know what she said?”

Jimmy starts to answer, stops. He doesn’t seem . . . distressed, so to speak, other than the crease in his brow and the tense grip on the sheets he has. He frowns, lips turning in an adorable little pout that Scott is struck by the urge to kiss right off his face. He restrains himself.

“When, exactly?”

He hadn’t wanted to specify. Scott has this terrible feeling that the moment he brings up any particular points of the fight, Jimmy will be thrown into a flashback or panic attack. Still, he asked, and the words on his back make Scott hesitate in spurning any question from him.

No obligation is a system that he needs right now, too.

“Um, well—they had ordered you to—you know—so you attacked Lizzie, and you had her on the ground—” he runs a hand down his face, trying to figure out the kindest way to word it— “Well, you were about to . . . take her out, and then—I was too far away to hear, but I saw her lips move. And you stopped the attack.”

He’s monitoring Jimmy for any signs that he should stop, but so far the man is relatively calm, nodding along with the story. He’s still frowning, though.

“I was told to kill Lizzie,” Jimmy says, and Scott flinches. Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice, because he continues his train of thought. “And then when I had her on the ground, and I went to hit her again, she . . . said something? And I stopped?”

“Yeah,” Scott tells him. “Yeah, she said something, and you, like—froze, almost, then jumped off her. And that’s when—you know. The next part happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t answer. Instead, he absently draws something on his phone, eyes lost in a distant gaze. Finally, his face clears and he nods.

“Right, right,” he says, adding a dot to his drawing. His face turns rueful when he looks up to meet Scott’s eyes. “I think I remember. She, uh . . . she didn’t say anything.”

That can’t be right. Scott saw it, he saw her speak. He opens his mouth to continue arguing his point, but apparently something in his face tips Jimmy off and he pats Scott’s arm gently.

“Maybe she did say something, but I didn’t notice. I wasn’t looking at her. It hurt too much to look at her. All—all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears. . . .” Jimmy shudders, taps his phone a couple of times.

Scott really should stop pressing. He really should apologize and do something to help Jimmy feel safe. He really should get up, fix them both something to eat, and move on.

But he’s always needed to be right. One of these days, that arrogance is going to kill him.

“What made you stop, then?”

Jimmy squints his eyes shut, takes a deep breath. Scott starts to say something—an apology or retraction, he’s not sure—but Jimmy speaks before he can.

“I was killing her,” he says, voice utterly devoid of emotion. “And I knew I would do it. And I knew they would keep telling me to kill. For the rest of my life, I would just be a weapon. Killing the people I care about.”

He opens his eyes and stares out into the middle distance, expression unreadable. Scott doesn’t move.

“You were defeated, and I was about to kill my sister, and something broke inside. And finally, I decided that—that I’d rather die trying to stop them than kill so many people. They—they were going to make me kill so many . . . I killed for them without a thought and soon there would be no more thoughts to have . . . I had—I—”

A tear slips down Jimmy’s cheek, and Scott holds out a hand. Jimmy takes it instantly, collapses onto Scott in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Scott murmurs into his neck, holding Jimmy as tightly as he dares. “I shouldn’t have pressed. I’m sorry.”

“Feelin’ floaty,” Jimmy mumbles, adjusting so that his hands curl around Scott’s shoulders.

“That’s okay. What do you need?”

Jimmy shrugs.

“Okay. Do you want to shower?”

The apprehension that ripples through Jimmy’s body is palpable, and he seems to shrink against Scott, nails digging into Scott’s shoulders. “No, n-no—”

Scott swallows, tears of his own building at the fear in Jimmy’s voice. “We won’t, then. Um—your journal is at Lizzie’s, but if you want to keep drawing on your phone—”

“Lizzie’s okay,” Jimmy mutters to himself, his grip loosening. “Lizzie’s okay and Scott’s okay and I’m okay.” He breathes deeply, clearly still upset, but beginning to recover.

There’s an almost imperceptible buzz through the air, and Scott braces himself—Jimmy gasps—the lightbulb in Scott’s bedside lamp pops out, bounces off the table and lands on the carpet with a soft thump.

“Mm, good job,” Scott praises, planting a kiss on Jimmy’s cheek. “Nothing’s broken, it’s all okay!”

For once, Jimmy seems to believe him, lifting his head to reveal a hopeful smile. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” Scott reassures him. “It was a good way to redirect your anxiety without hurting yourself. Remember that you feeling safe is a higher priority than any accident that occurs.”

Jimmy sighs, and Scott continues. “I’m sorry for pressing. I should’ve stopped when I noticed you were distressed.”

“No, I wanted to talk about it,” Jimmy says, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it, hands still trembling. His smile turns sly. “Had to prove you wrong.”

“Oh, that’s—now I’m going to ask Lizzie about it, I know I’m right—”

Jimmy’s laugh isn’t quite right, and the tension in his jaw belies any attempts at acting calm, but he’s okay. And really, that’s all that matters.

Scott does ask Lizzie, later, when Jimmy isn’t around. She fixes him with the same blank stare that Jimmy had, confused until he goes into further detail. When she finally understands, she laughs, claps him on the back.

“Right. I don’t really remember saying anything, but maybe you saw me . . . I don’t know, moving my mouth for no reason? Spitting out blood? I was pretty out of it, Scott, but I didn’t say a word.”

[cerastes]

How to fix Elden Ring - Margit Everywhere System

Elden Ring has proven to be a massively popular, massively well crafted video game that has captivated the masses, especially after so many games with similarly impossible levels of hype behind them simply failed to deliver. However, it is also true that Elden Ring has many flaws that one simply cannot turn a blind eye to, such as uncooperative camera when fighting particularly large foes, poor moveset balance for bigger weapons, and the conspicuous lack of a button that lets me scritch Blaidd behind the ears.

Arguably the biggest of these issues, however, is the sheer repetition of frankly boring bosses. In a game the size of Elden Ring, it’s completely justified to reuse and repurpose content to some degree. What is unforgivable, however, is that developer FromSoftware reused the single worst couple of bosses over and over instead of the fun, engaging ones. Researchers at Harvard, Oxford, and Raya Lucaria have joined forces to do a thorough study regarding this topic and have concluded that for every 5 minutes spent playing Elden Ring, the average player will encounter two Erdtree Avatars, three Tree Spirits, and one and half Valiant Gargoyles. Considering this game can easily go into the hundreds of hours if one were to spend time exploring, engaging in multiplayer, and overall just organically experiencing the game, it results in an overwhelmingly gross amount of bad bosses fought per square inch. In fact, the study shows that there could be an Erdtree Avatar behind you right this second!

Fortunately for gamers worldwide, there is a solution to this problem: The Margit Everywhere System.

It’s simple: We replace all repeat instances of Erdtree Avatar, Tree Spirit, and Valiant Gargoyle with another Margit fight, each time with some sort of contextual gimmick that changes the way he fights slightly. As Margit is one of the most well rounded bosses not just in Elden Ring, but in FromSoftware games as a whole, this would mean that the player not only gets to have a fresh experience each time, but also that these repeat fights would be built on a solid foundation that doesn’t look like someone forgot to set the bones on a big monster model and decided to give it Scarlet Rot explosions to make up for it.

Regarding this idea, we have the following comment from lead developer, Miyazaki Hidetaka: “Please don’t hurt me, lower the gun, I have a family and [...] yes yes I accept, we will include this system now please remove this blindfold, I’m scared, I haven’t heard Tanimura’s screams for a few minutes now, what did you do to hi--”, in which he enthusiastically expresses his approval for the System and will endeavor to incorporate it in the next big patch, Elden Ring Patch 1.06.

The Margit Everywhere System is still in the development phase as of the writing of this article (23/03/2022), but so far, FromSoftware has been kind enough to give us a sampler, so keep your eyes peeled out for this next update in the Lands Between, Tarnisheds!

Margit, the Fell Omen - The base game first encounter with Margit, unchanged.

Mirgat, the Omen Who Fell - Found in the depths of Stormveil Castle, where the Ulcerated Tree Spirit was. Lore found in a missable item thirty hours away from where the player is expected to fight Mirgat explains that, after fighting the Tarnished near the Stormgate, Margit tripped on his own tattered coat and fell down all the way to the bottom of Stormveil, and can’t find his way out. That’s also why he starts at half HP.

Margarita, the Drunken Omen - Margit after going one bottle of Alcoholic Crimson Tears too deep whle enjoying some snacks at the Boilprawn Shack, where no Omen has gone before. Eschews the use of weaponry to instead fight with the powerful martial art, Drunken Omen Fist, making his moveset extremely erratic and his breath extremely smelly, making the Tarnished build up Madness and Poison if they stay close to him for too long.

Mergot, the Off-Duty Omen - Margit in his day off, prunning the branches of the Altus Plateau Minor Erdtree. Wears a big straw hat with a long pink ribbon given to him by his kids, the Fell Twins, for his birthday. He was not expecting to see you today! Instead of summoning his Holy Weapons (straight sword, dagger, warhammer, and spear), Margit instead summons his Holy Lawn Tools (shears, shovel, rake, and lawnmower) to do battle with you. Defeating Mergot, the Off-Duty Omen rewards the player with Aspect of the Crucible: Sacred Lawnmower, which allows the Tarnished to replicate Mergot’s deadly Holy Lawnmower attacks, and is reportedly going to snap PvP in half for 6 months until they nerf it.

Morgatling, the Omen Who Has Had Enough - Secret superboss version of Margit. To fight Morgatling, you must 1) defeat Malenia, Blade of Miquella without rolling once, 2) defeat Mogh, Lord of Blood without using Crimson Tear Flasks, and 3) defeat The Warrior without jumping once. Margit, having had enough of this, unleashes his strongest incantation, created by a mysterious, reckless branch sect of the Golden Order known as the Powder Kegs: Holy Gatling Cannon. Defeating Morgatling, the Omen Who Has Had Enough rewards the player with Golden Order’s Phalanx - Sacred Gatling Cannon, which actually just sucks as when used by the player.

All these new Margits, and more, await the Tarnished in the Lands Between when patch 1.06 of Elden Ring goes live. Elden Ring was released on the 25th of February of 2022, and is available for purchase in Microsoft Windows systems, PlayStation 4, PlayStation 5, Xbox One, and Xbox Series X/S.

[bl-garbage]

i’m not over Gaya sa Pelikula episode 5. the sheer layers of storytelling we have, and i know you all have pointed them out. long post incoming:

employed foreshadowing in the two horror stories and the events that later followed. from the story of the nurse seeing the cadaver in his own closet to Vlad seeing the photo of a young Karl, now a grown man and so different from the child he once was; and from the man looking at his own self holding his own heart, to Karl holding his own heart as he looked at himself in the mirror. these are not horror stories -- they are real. in the next episode, we will find the consequences of these actions.

the brownout as a device. do we not tell our stories in the dark? queer people have long been used to telling stories in this familiar place. they do not dare to tell it under the sun, for all of the world to see because stories like theirs are resented just for being. this drinking session in the dark, when no one is around and anyone else is out of earshot, that is when stories so honest, so brutal and unabashedly true, are released. this scene was beautiful and cathartic.

anna is no plot device. she’s a beautiful, multilayered, flawed character. who would have thought anna was a mom? i know i’m surprised. and yet the writer did not leave her be only to be a friend for comedic purposes. she was there to tell her own story, like everyone else does. she has agency as a woman, and for an 8-episode series that bills itself as a BL series it is really commendable to grasp the complexity of all its characters, not let them be tossed aside. and you know what? Vlad even shined in this scene. women and queer people have long stood side by side, aware and empathic of their fundamental disadvantages in society. the queer struggle is rooted in the victories of the feminist struggle, after all, and in this scene we zoom in on just how that takes form, even in the simplest of ways. just look at how Vlad immediately accepts anna’s story, and does not even judge her. 

the effortless gender sensitivity. the episode does its best to quash stigmas in the queer community itself. when Karl said, for instance, that In fairness, Vlad, you’re not obviously effeminate, Vlad was quite quick to correct him, and here we see an innocent Karl simply accepting his mistake, saying sorry, and intently listening when Vlad goes on to explain where he went wrong. in that moment we were all anna, smiling in sheer excitement that this kind of thing casually happens, for is that not what queer people fear at time? that even when you know better and want to correct other people for their mistakes, you'd still second guess yourself or choose if it's even okay or perhpas you're imposing your own ideals on another person. yet, Gaya sa Pelikula does away with that and shows that, ihdeed, ignorance is not cured by anger, but education. what Karl said is a common microaggression against the queer community that unfortunately, many shows (BLs, even) fall prey to. Gaya sa Pelikula is not only good plot-wise, but it is also careful to weigh its options of which important lessons it needs to impart. it is proof that BL shows shouldn’t be just for entertainment; they must advance change.  

from the dark, to the blinding light. the rather smooth transition from Karl having to teach Vlad and Vlad even stepping on Karl, with Karl taking the lead; and then, to the prom they had in their minds: beautiful, well-lit, but only for them. a dream come true for Vlad—for any queer person deprived of the simple joys, of something as simple as the privilege to dance. the hope of things getting better.

Karl took the lead at first, but then Vlad did. in the beginning, it was Karl who led a reticent Vlad to the prom dance; yet, when they donned the suits and danced in the light, the roles changed. Vlad was taking the lead. it was as though, when Karl opened up to Vlad and practically told him, ‘it’s okay to be yourself with me,’ that gave Vlad the license to really be himself, be confident and free to express what he felt, share what he knew. note that during the transition, Vlad was at first so surprised by the lights! he did not know that things could turn out so good for him and Karl, and yet it was halpening. so he was so confident, leading Karl in the dance, to make Karl feel what he feels. he even said, “simplehan na lang natin (let’s make things simple).” i find meaning in that, too: see, Vlad has known himself to be gay since high school, but here we have Karl who does not even begin to question for himself who and what he is. Vlad knows this. he even sang, ever so softly into Karl’s ears, as if to say that it’s okay if you're only beginning your journey now. things are discovered, one step at a time.

in the end, karl was smiling. confused, but happy. holding his heart, beating so loud, karl does not know what to feel. is that not the experience of every queer person? to know that, perhaps for the first time ever, things are “different” from what they've been conditioned to believe? and yet the most confusing thing is that it feels good and freeing and warm. in the dark, when no one is around, Karl felt his heart, saw his own reflection, and even though he does not admit it yet, Karl knows he is happy. this is the true turning point of the story. i am quite sure we'll experience the sadness next episode, so be sure to be ready.

i am just so overwhelmed by Gaya sa Pelikula. it is not only aesthetically beautiful, but is also filled with nuances that i am not afraid to look more into it. perhaps i have been too saturated with a lot of just fun, but really nonsensical BLs, that i almost forgot that those shouldn’t be the standard. instead, we deserve ones that truly cater to our needs, tell our stories, and make a shot for things going to be better. to be sure, Gaya sa Pelikula was written by a queer screenplay writer himself, which only confirms the need for more stories told by queer people, for queer people.

Gaya sa Pelikula does what others are not doing. and so much more.

there are three more episodes, but i have no doubt that it will turn out excellent, far exceeding yet again my already high expectations.

in the aftermath of episode 5, i hark back to what juan miguel severo, the show’s writer and producer, had promised: “We will take back our story!”

and, indeed,  through this episode, he proves that he already has.

[mfpeace]

@justbeingedgy @weird-colombian-gurl You asked me to elaborate on the "Ches already has a kid" theory in the notes of that one mf analysis post (which I really liked, go check it out!!), so that's why I'm making this one, cuz notes are a bit too restricting for what I want to talk about!

Though next time think twice before asking me to talk about something I'm interested in, because you never know when you're gonna wake up lovecraftian horrors!! :DDD you'll see what i mean when you press read more :))

So, I'll say it right now - this post is largely inspired by the second story highlight of this Instagram user (sorry, I don't know their name, only that their Instagram handle is dee_girl_metalfamilyfan), it's in Russian though, so keep that in mind

Alright, so I'll break this theory into two parts: the first one will be all about Ches, and the second will be about his potential child (spoiler: you might've seen her!)

Without any further ado, let's get to the Ches part:

1. The creators said that they're gonna explore Ches' character in the second season. Obviously, it doesn't mean anything on it's own, but just wait.

Dima: Let's talk about the second season a little. Of course, the seconds season will show development of the old characters, as well as new ones. That's in short. As you see, Ches looks a bit different here.

Alina: Yeah, we'll show a bit more about Ches at the ages of 18 to 20. His past. We'll reveal a bit more about his complex character, as much as it's possible.

(The source of the translation) Also I think they also said at one point that adult Ches will get some character development too? But that's probably a given, considering that we wouldn't see his youth if it wouldn't have affected him in the present, flashbacks without any relevance to the overall story don't sound so good

2. Not sure about this one (we don't know how much in character it was) but I can't not mention it.

Alina: Actually there was this one fanfic that I really liked. I don’t remember what it was called, but it was about Ches having a daughter, which is a cool topic. It was relatively in character and truly interesting. It’s great when people focus not just on sexual relationships of the characters, but also try to look at their development. That was a really interesting one. That’s it.

(UnityCon '19)

3. This one's a pretty big one, in my opinion. So, this is what they said on ArtWave '19:

Dima: Ches also has flaws.

Alina: [to Dima] Don’t spoil stuff.

Dima: His flaw is that he's very... irresponsible, let’s say.

So, maybe, just maybe, Ches does have a child but he, you know... left them? As the Instagram highlight from the beginning say: "he might be irresponsible enough to leave his child, and he's probably irresponsible enough not to use any contraception" (rephrased, not the exact quote)

4. Alright, so, the only mention of this one I can think of right now is the aforementioned Instagram highlight. The Metalfamilyfan says:

I contacted Korg/Корж, (admin of @ metal_yama [and I believe one of the organizers of the Metal Family Meetup in Moscow]) and she asked Alina on one of the meetups: "if Ches were to be a father, what kind of father would he be?"

And she said: "The kind of that would say "kid, look at that birdie over there!" an then he would run away"

Someone's words are not the perfect source, but they did tag Metal Yama and from what I know they didn't disagree with what the author of the page said. if anyone has anything to say about this (disprove or definitely prove what I said) feel free to do so in a reblog, notes, DMs, send me an anonymous ask, or in any other way you feel comfortable with

5. Ches has literally been through the same thing, and we know how important the theme of the cycle of abuse is in Metal Family (or, in this case, the cycle of neglect? Abandonment? Idk)

You managed to hide your PREGNANCY from me! AND you've been hiding the child from me for a whole year!

YES, because you would've insisted on aborting him!

AND NOW I'M INSISTING ON PUTTING HIM UP FOR ADOPTION! OR I'LL LEAVE RIGHT NOW!

6. Here we can see Ches with a blonde girl. Nothing too special, probably just a one time hook up. He doesn't seem to be interested in her, and she seems to be annoyed with him.

But wait...

What is this?

Like, it doesn't even matter if there's actually a punk/rock/whatever band named MOM or not, I just think it's pretty weird to put it in this particular drawing of Ches and this random woman who is implied to have slept with him. It's not integral to Ches' character as, for example, Korol i Shut is. It's just... there. For some reason.

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

Alright, now, finally let's get to the second part of the theory: who is, exactly, his child?

The short answer is, according to this theory, her:

First, let me list every single instance of her appearing in canon (and by canon I mean everything made by the creators. Even with this definition of canon it's not much, I promise): The screenshot you can see above on the left (it's a screenshot from the second season and it appeared here), an instagram story posted by Alina (above, right), and two drawing with a lot of characters where you can spot the girl which I'm gonna call her PinkHair or PH for short, I'll mention them later I feel like I should mention this, comparing the sources of the images and the dates when they were posted, it's safe to assume that the screenshot in the classroom has the latest and final version of her design. The red hair most likely doesn't mean anything

1. Alright. So. we've seen Dee and PinkHair in a classroom together, so they're most likely related in some way, or at least they know each other. Their exact relationship doesn't matter here, because all that matters here is that they're related story-wise

Let's look at the first image. This is the banner of the main Metal Family channel. Ches is near Heavy (they get along quite well and I'm sure Heavy aspires to be like Ches in many ways), Dee (we can see his classmates/friends near him, they're all about his age), and we can see people related to Glam on the left side of the image (including Ches!), and Vicky's - on the right side (notice how the hell sign is also there)

Now, I'm not absolutely sure about this one, but it's still kind of weird - look at the image on the right (it's from ArtWave 2021 btw) - wouldn't it make more sense to put PinkHair near Dee? Also, Curiously enough, not only is she not close to Dee on this image, but she's also standing next to Ches.

Though this whole thing could be explained by art theory (too many small things in one corner of your drawing isn't great composition wise lol sorry PH) but I still can't quite skip this point

2. Remember the "MOM" lady? Fun fact, she has the exact same pearl earring that PinkHair has on the screenshot.

3. I'll put all similarities with her supposed parents in this point: Mother: * She's also pretty uh.. glam? for the lack of a better word? Or feminine in a traditional sense, yeah I think that's a better way to put it. Like colors they prefer to wear for example, and jewelry. Characters like that aren't common in Metal Family * She's gotta be a blonde. I can't imagine her being anything but blonde. If she manages to maintain that hair color as a brunette I'm just straight up assuming her character arc is gonna be killing God because these kind of people are capable of anything. I fear them with every fiber of my being. * I can't say for sure because of the shading, but it seems like they both have gray eyes, and she also has darker skin compared to most MF characters. Though, it's likely that Mom just applied a lot of fake tan Ches: * We know that Ches for sure has darker skin * AND grey eyes * There's also some possible personality similarities but I'm not sure if you can compare a child to a parent they've never really known in this way

That's about it, I suppose, I hope there isn't that many grammar mistakes and logically unfinished parts and whatnot in this post I forgot to edit lol x) I'm not sure how to end this post other than to remind you guys that almost all the points in this posts are inspired by the "тупая теория" highlight on the dee_girl_metalfamilyfan's Instagram page, so go check them out and subscribe, they post Dee x The Quest Girl fanart and and always credit the artists. Without them this post would be much, much shorter.

Thanks for reading this post, please feel free to let me know your thoughts on this post <3

[monsoonblooms12]

Eumoiriety (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Four Years of Pooja Sharma's Birthday, from her first year as an Intern to her first year as an Attending.

Eumoiriety: Happiness due to state of innocence and purity💕

A/N: It's my baby's birthday and I went overboard. This is purely self indulgent and since I have zero to negative self control, this turned out way longer than I expected it to. Anyway, I hope you still like it💙

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.7K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: None that I saw.

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge Day 29 - Birthday

READ ON AO3

Intern Year:

She walks barefoot on the green floor as the dews clinging to grass tips, soothe her like the cold breeze on a summer day.

A few golden rays filter through the canopy that acts as a barrier to the shining sun overhead. When they fall on the grass, the view looks like gold intermixed with emerald.

She wears a white gown, which flutters behind her, as her heart dances with the bees going flower to flower to get their prize of nectar in return for their favour of pollinating them.

There is a calm spreading through her soul, an ease, a slow infusion of tranquillity with her heart beats.

A swish makes her turn. Her eyes capture a silhouette, drifting farther and farther, as if taking her calm along with it.

It's replaced by restlessness.

There is a cajole, a whispered cajole, that urges her feet to run, her mind to think, her heart to wonder.

She follows. One step, and another.

The scene changes.

There are no more trees, no more green with the sun's shine.

At a distance, the waves crash on the sandy shore, their meet with their shore echoing in the silent surroundings.

She looks around and sees it.

The silhouette, now apparent that it was a man, standing with his back to her. He looks unbothered. As if he stole her peace and gave her his unrest in return.

She tries to walk slowly towards, footsteps imprinting on the sand, but the distance never seems to lessen or end.

She tries running, but to no avail.

The waves continue crashing, the footprints continue to get imprinted and the man continues to remain still and silent.

The only change has been in the sky, which is now leaden, dark with humongous clouds.

The thunder begins to cackle.

Once, Twice, Thrice.

She closes her ears with her hands, eyes shut to reduce the impact of the thunderous noise reverberating through every single one of her bones. But the roar keeps getting louder and louder until...

Her eyes snap open, but the echo from her sweven doesn't leave her. She turns around to find her phone ringing, straining her eyes with incredulous bright light (that she forgot to dim). The caller ID is barely registered, but the voice gives away the identity.

It's her sister.

With a flash, all the haze from the peculiar dream gets lost and bubbly happiness takes up the emptied space.

It's their birthday.

The first one since she came here. She had been so busy unknotting the twisted knots of circumstances in which she found herself tangled, that she had forgotten about the once unforgettable occasion of her life.

Maybe she has really lost that childhood she held on so tightly to, she thinks.

But not without a hope. Of a chance to get it back.

Maybe differently.

But the want to relive those carefree days, where the colour of pens you get as gifts, and the decision of who gets the piece of cake with the chocolate masterpiece on it were the only things that held importance. All other worldly, societal woes were secondary, trivial, uncared for.

She wishes her sister and she wishes her back.

3..2..1.. Happy Birthday! To Us!

They scream-whisper together, carrying on the years' long tradition.

The only thing different? They were on their cellulars, ecospheres apart, instead of snuggling and shouting together, and annoying their brother for an entire day.

Subconsciously, a tee-hee escapes her. Thinking about her brother, she takes a look at the clock. Correct 12:03 am on 12th August. If she knows him, he is probably counting the seconds.

At 12:05 am to the dot, another shrill echoes through the silent apartment. Her guess is correct.

On the other side of the screen, sits Idhayan arranging the cake so that Pooja can see the eloquent buttercream designs he has hand made on it.

In the background, there is a blurry motion. It turns out to be Alekhya.

She jumps onto the couch beside their brother, putting an end to his steady concentration.

He makes an irritated face, while she laughs.

And Pooja just watches, giggling alone.

The pang in her chest reminds her, once & once more, about just how much she misses them.

How empty, monochromatic her life is, with all these miles between them.

For the past year, every time any event took a turn for the worse, broke her, or hurt her, she wanted to go back to her safe haven.

The place where the chronicles of her life begun.

Many times, she had found herself convinced (by others as well as her self doubting mind) that she didn't belong here. That she didn't have the calibre, the skills to strive in this fight of dogs, in this race of horses where she felt like a donkey.

Or maybe a snail.

She dreamed of sleeping in her mother's lap when she first found herself in the crossroads of feelings and reason. Making her muddled head clear with words that never crossed the barrier between dream and reality.

When Mrs Martinez died, she imagined herself sitting on the swing, her brother's comfort brownies reduced to messy crumbs, as she let the mountain winds take away the burden of dread that pressed upon her heart.

And the day when Landry's backstab became eminent? She visualized her sister ripping him down, shredding him with knives of words because that's what he deserved.

She knew her father would have made them both coffee like he always did when he came home during breaks from piloting. He would have said a mere few words, which would have been enough for her to see the path ahead.

The mini virtual celebration ends, and the silence settles again. Tendrils of sleep come and go, but never stay.

She is left alone with her thoughts and worries, and a fear of the unknown which is hidden by the curtains of the future.

--------

The day passes like a swift blowing wind in a desert.

It's quiet, too quiet.

And probably for the first time in her life, she adores it. To be away from the hustle of a celebration, which would have been a noise in the cacophony, given the situation.

To get a period of silence for her thoughts to drift away, to think about the unknown, to predict a make or break.

The pages are turned swiftly by her fingers, one of which is clad with a minimal gold ring, another old ritual of hers.

The library harbours the overworked interns, who are now pushing the boundaries of time to find a way to help their friend out.

Their tired eyes pain with the lack of sleep, coffee fuelling through their veins, and mind engrossed in picking up any clue, any line, any tip that could be supportive for them.

Hours pass, no-one utters a word. Pens run on empty notebooks, hands managing to create only messy scribbles. Black and Blue fill the white as if it never existed.

The clock strikes the end hour.

They all get up.

They go home together, for discussions and relaxation.

At the doorstep, everyone enters before her, while she stands still, too engulfed in worries to notice the happenings.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Confetti pops, her reverie is broken.

The smile shines like a jewel in a priceless necklace.

The arrangements are minimal, just champagne, cake and friends, but that's more than enough for her. To make her forget the dark fog of pessimism.

Maybe there is hope left.

-------

Second Year:

12th August.

The day that is drifting closer by the minute.

It has always been Alekhya's birthday for her.

On her phone, In her diary, In her mind.

People might regard it as a beautiful flaw of her nature, the flaw of always placing others before herself.

But to her, the instinct seemed natural, obvious. She had never delved into the whys, and she doesn't want to begin now.

For Alekhya, the circumstances became vice-versa.

And this was the beauty of their bond.

Strong, Pure and Selfless.

They never seem to realize that, though.

They hold onto the strings of simplicity, of sweet uncomplexity. And that is what helps them to bridge the gap between siblings and best friends.

After the tumultuous year, that very much resembled the completion of a voyage through the rough Indian Ocean, where storms ravage through days and endless nights, thunders crack, and waves that scale the heights between the ocean and sky to become mountains of water, crash on the feeble pieces of wood barely held together in the form of a boat, coming back to her origin, her hometown is a necessity.

Especially for her to find that normalcy again.

She survived.

Even though she fell, almost drowned, gasped for a breath more times she could count and nearly accepted her fate.

Until that is, the pale faces of the ones she holds close, the endless stream of tears that scale their cheeks, their breaking hearts, came to haunt her in her reverie and prevented her from closing her eyes & from letting that almost undetectable beat of heart stop.

The wishes from last year come back to her. This time, it wasn't virtual anymore. This time, it wasn't just painted in pixels, but written in buttercream letters, one which she could taste.

This time, the hugs weren't just virtual. They were very real, and very needed.

As she sits amidst the bushes of phenomenal florals, she lets her mind project in vivid colours, the extremities of the last year.

Her heart, breaking into tiny glass pieces, not perceived by the eye but sharp enough to draw blood.

The fear of losing and letting so many others lose along.

The coming close and going away, almost kisses and slide of unassuming hands, those which could easily be perceived as a mistake, but were anything but.

Competing in a nameless competition and almost dying in the process.

Getting the lost love back. Slowly, Gradually. (even if it felt too early to call it that)

And then... Her mind stops as the playful tunes start emanating out along with florescent light from the cellular, and the face of the one who has been a regular image of the thoughts that lull her to sleep.

On the other side, his voice is soft.

She can visualize him in the Diagnostics Office, leaning back on his chair.

Most probably on a break.

The new day hasn't even started for him, yet he remembers that it has, for her.

Their talks are interspersed with comfortable silence. For them, just the knowledge that the person on the other side is still there with them is enough.

All through the conversation, she waits.

In a hope that the irrelevant and unimportant date is written in faded letters somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

As the line approaches its end, talks slowly halt, she feels a faint pang of sadness.

Maybe he doesn't remember it after all.

She bids her farewell, and as his finger hovers close to the end call button, she hears it.

Crystal Clear but still seeming unreal.

Happy Birthday, Pooja.

Her thanks are intermixed with a light giggle, unable to hold back the pleasure that erupts within her, along with the flutter called butterflies in her stomach.

Maybe there is always hope left, after all.

-------

Last year of Residence:

There have been countless moments when she has asked the time to wait, to slow its rushing footsteps that leave no mark behind.

Sometimes it's a beg, while in other vespertine hours, it's a mindless murmur.

This moment is one of them.

When a handful of sand is slowly released on a windy day, the swooshes and swishes carry them away, farther and farther, leave them with no choice but to fly along.

The minutes were being carried away by the same current, where they had no choice but to pass.

No one had the power to hold it, not even the mighties, the richest, the most supreme.

The conditions now extensively mimic the conditions during her first year.

Just this time, it was textbooks on internal medicine and medical procedure instead of ethics.

The wishes that day are hushed, the minimal party comprising of cupcakes and mug cakes and the gang, christened "The Invincibles" after they successfully tackle one hurdle and another but remain strong and together, in their PJs.

It must be one of the first nights since who knows how long when they spent their time doing an activity that doesn't involve colour coded tabs and complicated biological drawings.

And even though some of them make faux complaints about the wasted time, they all needed this break more than they could express.

The morning sun rays filter through the white curtains guarding the windows way too fast, making them unable to pinpoint the exact moment when the black of the night ceased to exist, when the sky became melanocrysus and when the golden took over the entire stretch.

A single text message pushes her to drop the blanket of laziness, the cocoon she inhabited. Getting up and placing a smile has never been as easy as it was now.

Come Over

------

The condo is inhabited by a stark silence when she reaches there.

She knocks. The click of the doorknob on the other side is almost instantaneous.

His hand wraps around her waist like a reflex deeply etched in his encephalon. For the first time in forever, their kisses are not chaste. Or momentary.

When he whispers a happy birthday wish against her forehead, that's what she would call intimacy.

The purity of the action touches her heart and makes it swell, with an emotion that she predicts will not remain unnamed any longer.

-------

First-year as an attending:

The celebratory vibes are in the air today.

Her stride is confident, heels playing a mellow harmony on the shining floors.

No one doesn't recognize her.

The intern who nearly lost her license to the Head of Diagnostics team, it was a journey that had thrown her off-road a million times.

Sometimes the barriers were pinpricks leaving no marks, and sometimes they were boulders crushing her.

And sometimes, one of these on-lookers would tear down her faith by stabbing her from the back, the cowardice of their soul, being mirrored in the blades of those knives of betrayal.

And yet she stands strong, her resolve unperturbed, as she faces the demons, those of others and those of her own.

It's a fight she has been learning to fight since she was eleven.

To curtain her tears with a glow in eyes, to hide the broken heart behind pretty lies. And just like practice makes one perfect, she has almost perfected the art of having to hide the real her inside.

As she passes the numerous congregations, amalgamations of patients and staff, she is greeted by wishes from old acquaintances whose kindness is apparent in their smile and by wishes of employed enemies, whose disinterest or sometimes blatant hate is too, completely apparent in their voice.

But they are not the ones she is worried about.

Interspersed between these two extremities are people who speak kind and in flattery lines with a sword behind their back.

Those who know how to hide their true intentions in the modulations of voice.

Every time she hears a wish where nothing is apparent, her heart stops for a while.

Strings of thought muddle her head and she tries to figure out the reality behind their words.

Sometimes she succeeds, sometimes she fails.

And sometimes she faces vehement opposition of her tired nerves who ask her to stop caring about those who are passing by.

But she never stops.

Her legs carry her to the Diagnostics office.

Her Office.

The swell of pride, of a fulfilment she last felt when she got into Edenbrook, make her head light.

She tries to stop but gives up the efforts soon.

If she has realized something through the twists of lawsuits and turns of almost dying, it is that if you keep waiting for the turns of the clock to approach a "right moment" for a chance to celebrate, you will probably keep waiting your entire life until your breath is being taken away and all that is left are regrets and missed opportunities of happiness.

So she twirls like a princess in her imaginary ball gown, beaming with satisfaction, and taking pride in giving herself the give of success.

Of making her loved ones and herself proud.

She gets so carried away in the train of thoughts, in which one bougie is connected by another, and one more, that she doesn't notice the person who preoccupies the room.

The halt is so sudden, that she almost tumbles upon the man. Almost.

She manages to get hold of herself, her hand on his back.

He turns, eyes meet.

If someone would have asked her what is cosmic, she would have said "The melt of glowing ambers into ice blue." Sure, she has looked into them more times than she can count or recollect. But every time their orbs meet, the reactions the action produces, she can only give the word seraphic to it.

When Ethan left for Amazon, she would often wonder why is she still keeping the lamp of hope alive. His absquatulation broke her, acted like a spark to her over-thinking mind. She would lie on her bed, eyes tracing the same lines on the ceiling above her over and over again, thinking just what she did wrong. She never reached the end of the path though, never really achieved the answer, even after meandering through a hundred courses of thoughts.

But now, she thanks her old self for living through it all. For not letting that lamp extinguish. For keeping it safe in a little corner of the labyrinths of her heart. Wordlessly, she hugs him, the plethora of emotions becoming quite too much to be expressed in minute syllables.

His whisper next to her ears, the innocently simplistic words induce a shiver in her spine.

But the last word.

4 letters, 1 word.

It hangs in the air like a diamond necklace around a maiden's neck. Like a tiny pendant that shines brighter than all elaborate jewels, all lengthy anecdotes.

It's enough, more than enough for her.

And as their smiles slowly spread like the slow rise of the golden sun, gently letting the rays spread through the humble earth. And those smiles, they shine together, brighter than the Sirius.

Happy Birthday, Love.

-------

Her casual gown, bearing floral patterns, flutters along with the soft grass, she feels a sense of wonder. Whether at the shimmering moon, the stardust spread through the stretch in the woods, or at the simplicity of her surroundings, she does not know.

Her unassuming footsteps walk slow, observant of her surroundings. After walking down the trail, she stops at the clearance.

At a distance, something shines under the silver moonbeams. Her mind beckons her to return back, but her intuition asks her to move on. She listens to the latter's plea.

A small cuboidal box and a bunch of white tulips lay peacefully out of place. She usually would have left it, just in case it was a trap.

But this time curiosity overtook reason and she picks the bouquet up. A small note amidst her favourite flowers.

I love you

No name. No initials. But she knew exactly who had written it. Not because he was the one who asked her to come here, in the heaven hidden amidst the chaos, but because those flourishes of his fanciful lettering would never escape her notice. Even if the only source of luminance was distant fairy lights on trees and the faint moonbeams.

Her eyes travel away from the articles. At a distance, the silhouette stands. The same silhouette from her sweven. But this time, there is no restlessness, no rush, no tension in the air. No thunder cackles and no waves crash. This time the silhouette waits for her, unlike the last time when it was her waiting for him.

He turns, only the shine of his orbs visible. And the shadow of the gorgeous smile that dances on his lips. The last time, his stone mask was too heavy, too powerful for any of them to break or move.

But this time? This time, the mask has fallen off, it has met the end of its existence.

He comes closer, the shadow now a clear image. He goes and picks up the cuboid and hands it to her.

"Open it" He whispers in a soft voice, that disappears as soon as it appears.

She takes it and opens it, as per his words. Everything is perfect and normal.

Except for the space in the middle.

Something sparkles, in silver lustre. Her first instinct is, Diamond? She decided to pick it up

It's a key.

She looks up to him, bewildered. Is it what she thinks it is?

Move-in with me?

She places the box of chocolates down, the key held tight in her fist.

And then she kisses him.

She doesn't have to speak a word, but he understands. After all, why would two intertwined hearts need verbal responses to know what the other one feels?

Only his home, can fill the brick walls of his house with love, and make it a home.

------

They both lay side by side on the lush grass, hands intertwined, hearts beating in unison, silence filling their souls like air fills their lungs.

They look at the stars and the moon. Or more appropriately, the gaze at the starry screen, but the mind plays significant moments from their time together.

Pooja's mind however thinks about the four of her birthdays since she set foot in Boston. The mundane softness of them, contrasting all the birthdays she has had in the rest of her years.

The photo frame of the interns from the first year. The group video call, her life from the second year. The PJ party from the third year. And the key from the fourth.

They are puzzle pieces of the saga of her life, the absence of friends from early years, the gap, the void now filled.

And after years of searching, she thinks she has finally found it. Hidden in the normality, the simplicity, the mundanity of life.

Happiness.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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[fandomtookoverlife]

Late

Hotch x reader 

Fem!reader 

Summary: you go out to brunch with the girls but your late, (as always) and they have a peak at your sex life before you leave.  

Note: italics are readers thoughts 

Warning: talk of sex, swearing

Words: 1.8k

Category: fluff  

A/N: ok this took me way too long to write but that's ok because I like the way it turned out and I hope you do too. Also this totally isn’t based off of the dumb bitch I am and how I act when I’m late. 😂😂

also again with me not being able to come up with a name worth a shit 

Interact with me if you like, anything you want,😘😘, not sure what I’ll write next we’ll see. Also not me getting this out instead of doing hw, not me, wrong bitch. 

Other blog: @mac99martin

Masterlist

---

Shitshitshitshit I’m so fucking late UGH SHIT! You are so late. You’re running around your bedroom trying to get ready. You were going for brunch with the girls; Penelope’s idea, which was fine except that you were getting picked up at 11, you woke up at 10:40. For the last 10 minutes, you have been rushing around your room trying to get ready, preying that the girls would be running late as well. You’re dressed, which is good, you threw on a bit of makeup in an effort to look the least bit presentable and now you were desperately trying to manage the mess that is your hair. You had… fun last night. Aaron had come over and well like you said you had fun. Jack was at a sleepover so Aaron came to your apartment, you stayed up half the night, relishing in the time you’ve missed together in the past week. It came to an end when Aaron received a call saying that he needed to pick up Jack. At that point you decided you should get some sleep seeing as you had to get up in the morning, unfortunately for you, your own personal alarm clock left last night and you forgot to set an alarm, yep, you’re late. You’ve been checking the clock every two minutes, you were probably wasting time checking the time and now you're wasting time thinking about how you're wasting time, UGHH, but you were frazzled and freaking out so you can’t be relied upon for anything right now. 

10:53 

All you have to do in the next 7 minutes is clean up the rat’s nest that is left of your hair after last night’s activities, find shoes, find your wallet, purse, find wherever the hell you put your phone down and pray that you look presentable.

Unfortunately, there’s one flaw that always manages to escape you, most people don’t show up at the exact minute agreed upon.  

It was now 10:56 your hair was mostly put together,  4 minutes ok I can do that. As if you weren’t already having the worst morning, it gets worse. Ya, that phone you can’t find, It has been blowing up with messages for the last few minutes. 

-

“She’s not answering.” JJ had had none been calling you from the parking lot for a couple of minutes with no answer. Em and Pen had been checking in for the last 15 with no answer and continued to send unseen texts to you. 

Em finally snapped, “alright, I’m going up.” not giving the other ladies time to respond she opened that car door and got out. 

Pen rushed out after her, “Wait I wanna come!” 

JJ watched the two women walk toward the entrance to your complex, looking at the empty car around her, got up as well, “ok I’m coming too.”

-

Emily, completely giving up on you, took out her keys and opened your door, JJ, ever the reasonable one, had protested, saying that they should knock. She got a nasty glare as Em pushed your door open.

-

As you said before, Aaron left in a rush last night, and you had been running around your room all morning, actually, you haven’t left your room all morning, making you completely unaware of the state of your apartment. 

-

The women stood in your doorway in shock. You and Aaron didn’t just have fun in the bedroom last night, you had fun everywhere, the kitchen, the floor, the table, your desk, the couch, you name it you were there. In conclusion? Your apartment was a mess, for starters there were clothes everywhere, your shirt, Aaron’s jacket, your bra, Aaron’s tie, your pants and last but definitely not least your-ripped-panties right in the open directly in the eye line of the women at the door. And you were completely unaware. 

The stunned women stepped in closing the door behind them, the world did not need to see this. They took in the sight, the clothing, the underwear that pen had pointed out, making sure to specify their ripped state. The next thing they noticed was your desk, what was usually a very precise desk was, quite the spectacle. Papers and folders scattered, pencil cups on their sides, pens just everywhere, photos knocked over. The tables and couch were pushed out slightly into the middle of the room, it was very clear what had happened here last night. The ladies looked at each other, their faces blank unsure how to react. A part of them was horrified, the other part really wanted to laugh. That was until they heard a noise coming from behind your door. They all became alarmed, “wait you don’t think Hotch is still in there do you?!” with your normal, horrible timing, that’s when you decided to open your door 

Everyone looked stunned. You tried to start asking how they got into your apartment but you were by a frantic Emily, “Is hotch still here?” 

“What? No, how did u…” the women looked relieved at your answer, when you started to ask how they knew he was here last night they gestured around the room. And that’s when you remembered the state in which you and Aaron left your apartment last night, “ohhh shit” 

Emily started “Ya oh shit, look at this place” 

“You guys had fun last night” JJ, always so passive-aggressive. When Pen went to pick up your panties, you sprang into action.

“Alright I’ll be out in a minute you guy can wait in the car” you practically slammed the door behind them, you look back at the mess that in your apartment, “shit” 

-

You get your shit and get out of your apartment as fast as you can, JJ, Pen and Em are in the car waiting as ordered to but when you get in they are all smiling, “soooo, if you guys could just forget what you saw in there…” 

“Absolutely not! That image will be engraved in my mind for the rest of my life!” 

“JJ, come on”

“Don’t give me that did you see that place, good god Y/N what did you do in there!” 

“Ummm…” 

Before you could even think of an answer Pen jumped in with, “did you see all her clothes on the ground?”

“Did you see Hotch’s clothes still on the ground?”

“Did you see her desk?!” 

“Alright, that’s enough” doing your best to put your foot down while also hiding how absolutely mortified you are. 

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“No wonder she was late.”

-

Despite your protests, it went on and on,

“Do you think she has hickey?”

“Hmm, not that I can see” at this point they weren’t listening to you anyway, so you just sat there, trying very hard not to listen, at some point you had started to think about last night. It was so perfect, not only the incredible sex but just being with him, allowing your selves to let loose, show each other affection, which you don’t do around the team. And then there was the literal mind-blowing sex, his hand all over you, his mouth across your body leaving the hickeys that you actually had but skillfully covered. The many orgasms you had that your legs hurt now, your slightly sore throat… 

“Do you think that HE has hickeys?” 

“Should we find out?” 

That was it “NO”

“Well that woke her up, you were kind of out of it there for a second.”

“Ya something up,? Maybe something on your mind, thinking about something, dreaming about it, imagining it, reliving it?” Emily was nudging your shoulder and your face was turning bright red, “oh my god she was!” 

-

Once you had actually started eating they let the conversation move on. It was one of the best times you’ve had in a while, you laughed and joked, you really don’t remember the last time you all smiled so much. It was nice to be with them so relaxed and happy, you almost forgot what it was like. 

When your phone rang you knew their fun from earlier wasn’t over, they all turn to you, smirks growing on their faces, “hey”

“hey Y/N, I’m sorry about last night,”

“Don’t worry about it, really”

“Jack doing fine now but- it was messy” he said with a tired chuckle 

“No no, I get it.” 

“Hey hotch” Emily had pulled you phone slightly away from your ear and spoke into it “quite a number you did on her apartment last night” you snatched your arm back from her and shot her a glare 

“You're still at lunch…”

“Yes. I am.” with a laugh that was more of a sigh,

“Sorry I totally forgot, Jack just wanted to talk to you, but he can wait-”

“No no, I want to talk to him,” you blushed and everyone smiled, you said you were stepping outside and would be back, they didn’t catch much of your conversation as you walked away, but what they did catch, was way too fucking sweet. 

“Wow, they are just-”

“She looks so happy” watching you talk through the window

“Her? Have you seen him?” they thought about the changes in the two of you recently, you both were smiling so much more, you seemed so energetic, he seemed softer. Both so much more selves, a weight coming off both your shoulders, you brought the light out in each other and just being in the same room as you lift the spirits of the team. Watching their fierce leader's stoic exterior melt away and your calm and loving nature amplified out of proportion.

-

You came back to the table still smiling while they all looked at you, “don’t start-”

JJ cut you off, grabbed your hand and looked in your eyes, “hey,” squeezing your hand, “we are so happy that you're happy.” you blushed and smiled at JJ’s soft, kind words, her motherly exterior and your friends smiling faces showing the sentiment. 

-

After a lovely lunch, filled with smiles, laughter and best friends you pulled up to your apartment JJ had a grin on her face, “so, you want help cleaning up?” the ladies trying very hard not to start laughing.

You clear your throat composing yourself and your face heats up, again, “um no I’m good thanks” getting out of the car as fast as you could.

“Are you sure?” they call after you. 

“I’m sure!” running to your door while the ladies kill themselves in the car. 

They may be annoying but who would you be to complain about your life right now, how could you, you have everything you could ever want. 

---

Tags: 

@spencers-renaissance @averyhotchner

(lmk if you want to be tagged) 

[pretty-setter-bois]

your outro

ONE YEAR LATER

     “(Y/N)! GLAD YOU could make it!” atsumu notices you entering the restaurant, waving you over.

“hi, everyone.” you smile.

your friends from highschool are already here, after a month of planning to suit your busy schedules. courtesy of atsumu, of course.

“hey.” aran grins.

“hey.” osamu raises an arm.

“hello.” kita smiles.

conveniently, the only open seat is next to him. he shares his menu with you, although you end up ordering the same thing.

the five of you catch up, atsumu casually throwing in unnecessary yet amusing comments with osamu there to regulate him. of course, aran is there to keep the conversation going, too.

somewhere along the way, volleyball gets brought up into the conversation, leading into a one-sided debate between aran and atsumu. osamu pays attention for the fun of it.

“you okay?” kita casually whispers in your ear.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you tilt your head to the side. “we’re all together, we’re having fun.”

he stares at you for a bit, looking sympathetic. “you know it’s not all of us.”

you don’t reply. he’s right.

as much as the topic is better to avoid, it’s almost impossible to miss the fact that one of their old teammates is absent.

you try not to mull over it. after all, you did come here to have fun.

“it’s fine.”

“drinks for all of us!” atsumu declares, cutting your conversation short.

you chuckle, looking at kita once more. “let’s have some fun?”

he nods, directing his words to atsumu, “we need at least two of us to be sober.”

“me.” osamu casually offers.

“i’ll be the second. the rest of you, go all out.” he laughs.

kita’s laugh is nice. so are several aspects to him. in fact, it’s almost impossible for you to find flaws in kita.

as much as you do care for him (one will even go as far as saying you love him), you know you can’t get back in another relationship for at least a while.

kita knows that, too, and he’s very respective of your decision. that doesn’t mean the two of you don’t think it over every once in a while, though.

“(Y/N)! drink something!” atsumu says.

“unlike you, not all of us are free from work tomorrow.” you tease. “i have an important meeting.”

“you’re no fun.” he pouts, though you know he’s joking. “we’re here to celebrate!”

“and what are we celebrating, exactly?” you cock an eyebrow.

he pauses for a bit. “it’s been one year since our team participated in the olympics!”

“10 months.” osamu corrects.

“so what, i just forgot a few months!”

“you’ve been obsessing over the olympics for months prior to the event itself. you wouldn’t forget an important detail like that.”

“do i really need an excuse to hang out with my friends?”

“no, but if you’re going to come up with an excuse, don’t lie about it.”

osamu seems to have said something he shouldn’t have, because you can feel the slight vibration of the table as something hit it. atsumu instantly reaches for his foot, mumbling something incoherent.

although you never really understand what they fight about, the twins never cease to bring a smile to your face with their banter.

“it’s been a year since… (Y/N) became an independent woman!”

osamu sighs.

“too soon?”

another kick is sent under the table, this time hitting atsumu. he goes for his other foot, softly massaging it through the shoe as he insults his brother.

“if you keep that up, i won’t be able to use my feet.”

“you hit yourself the first time.”

“shut up!”

you chuckle a bit, and atsumu is relieved that the topic isn’t sensitive for you to speak about.

“to independant women.” you raise a glass.

“do independant women!” atsumu raises his, despite it being almost empty.

“to independant women.” osamu raises his glass of water, intentionally clanking into atsumu’s.

“hey!”

“to independant women.” aran grins, raising his drink.

“to independant women.” kita smiles, raising his glass of water.

the five of you simultaneously drink out of your glasses, despite the difference of liquid within them.

the men find themselves arguing over how to split the bill, and you find that as an opening to sneak outside.

as much as you do enjoy spending your time with them, there are times that you need for yourself.

you never think that you’ll find yourself staring at the same sky again, and you could have sworn that you promised yourself to leave behind this city.

it was hard, and you caved after a little over a year.

it’s also hard to believe that it has been that long. a whole three-hundred-sixty-five days, and you still haven’t gotten over everything.

“hey.”

speak of the devil.

“who thought i’d find you here?” the voice speaks again.

you turn to face the familiar tone, not surprised to find the one you left behind. he doesn’t look much too different.

“hi.” you say, not really wanting to indulge in conversation.

“so, what are you doing out here?”

“i could ask you the same.”

“just on a walk.”

a pause takes place. the both of you know that the conversation is awkward from the start. there are far too many unspoken words, far too much meaning behind them.

“you look great.” he says again.

“thanks.”

“you changed up your hair.”

“yeah.”

“i always liked it better when it was long.”

“i think it looks better this way.”

another silence. this one is a bit shorter than the last, but it’s long enough for you to decide that you want closure.

“how did things go with the olympics?”

“ended a few weeks after.”

a few words are missing from the context, but the two of you have managed to understand each other with no misconceptions.

he knows you’re speaking about her, and you know what he means when he says after.

“i’m sorry.” he mutters.

you’re holding yourself back from shouting at him, yelling that he can’t apologize after all this time from being away and what he’s done.

“was it a coincidence that we met here?” you say instead.

“no.” he sighs. “they told me they were busy tonight, and i made a lucky guess that you’d all be here.”

“you wanted to speak with me?”

“yeah. you needed some closure after all this time.”

“so will you answer my questions truthfully?”

“to the best of my abilities.”

“for how long?”

he sucks in a breath, “a few months.”

“for how long?” you repeat.

“three months.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. as much as you hate admitting it, crying was inevitable when you think of what happened.

“when did you meet?”

“that day i brought you to the jelly-stick stand, when i had to leave early.”

“what’s her name?”

“that’s kind of irrelevant now.”

you chuckle a little. then it turns into a full blown laugh, and you’re bent over your knees trying to catch your breath.

“i really, really wanted to believe that you had changed.” you say. “it’s not realistic for people to change, but part of me wanted you to. part of me hoped for you to.”

“i…”

“the same part of me that can’t get you out of my head.”

he faces you with his eyes widened, but you pay him no mind as you continue to stare up at the moon.

“i’m… i know what i did was wrong, but-”

“there isn’t a ‘but’, and you and i know that well.” you sigh. “as much as i still think about you, i can’t put myself through something like that again. even before that incident with her — and i don’t know her name because you’re not telling me — i was beginning to feel out of place.”

“i-”

“don’t say you’re sorry. you and i both know that won’t do anything.” you say. “but if you were right about something, it had to be that i’d become a shell of myself.”

he knows that what you’re saying has been on your mind for a while. “i understand what you mean-”

“you don’t understand, suna. i’ve never felt more free in my life than i do now.”

“oh.” he breathes out — he notes the use of his last name. “i didn’t realize i’d put that much pressure on you.”

“you’re smart.” you say. “you just didn’t want to realize.”

you are right, and he’s surprised to have seen you caught on. it’s hard to forget someone, someone you used to feel every emotion that you can possible feel towards. ten years of your life that the old you will claim to be the happiest, but the new you knows better.

“oh, yeah.” you shuffle for something inside your pocket. “i’ve been meaning to give you this, incase we met up randomly at a time like this.”

he’s handed the ring he gave you over a year ago, in almost pristine condition. you don’t wear it often, but that is a given considering the meaning behind it. it rests in his palm, and he makes no effort to put it away.

“(Y/N), you alright?” you faintly hear kita shout from the dark.

“yeah, i’m fine!” you shout back.

he’s too far away to see you, but the sound of your voice is enough reassurance for him to stay put.

“we’re finished with the bill, do you want us to come?”

“no, it’s fine. stay in the car, i’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“alright.”

“so, kita?” suna questions. “anything going on between you?”

“i don’t think it’s your place to ask.” you say words similar to his own when speaking of her.

“you’re right, my bad.”

“well, i should get going. it was nice to get some closure, i guess.”

“do you ever think about what could’ve been?”

you sigh, “we’re not having this conversation. you and i both know it’s futile.”

“you’re right.” he murmurs. “this must’ve been how you felt before.”

“what do you mean?”

when he doesn’t answer, you look up at his face. suna rintaro isn’t a very emotional person, so it’s a surprise to see small, subtle tears falling down his face — almost invisible in the moonlight.

“i really put you through a lot, huh? and i made you cry again tonight.” he sighs.

“i have to get going.”

“so this is goodbye?”

“yeah, i guess so.”

“will i see you around?”

“we both know the answer to that.”

you turn around, beginning to walk to the parking lot with heavy steps. before you can get very far, he calls out to you once more.

“katsumi sato.”

“huh?” you face him.

“that’s her name.”

a small pause settles into the air, with an accompanying breeze.

“like you said before,” you say. “it’s irrelevant now.”

you turn on your heels for the final time, your footsteps much faster than before. you don’t want any distractions or last-minute stops.

suna watches you go, wiping the small tears of his own. the droplets of water were but a fraction of what you had to endure for a long time, all because of him.

he should’ve known that the wholesome, friendly interactions the two of you had in highschool could never develop into anything more.

even if you’d gotten to know him more than anyone else, he should’ve never accepted your confession without thinking it through. he should’ve never kept moving on with the next step of your relationship just for the thrill of it.

after all, the relationship was doomed from beginning.

it was good until it wasn’t.

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NOTES ♕❣⁂ღ

hello, everyone! firstly, i would like to thank everyone that has commented and left asks about the story, all of you really kept me going! at some point, i lost all inspiration for this story and even considered discontinuing it, but i coudn’t. it’s been a nice journey between the innerworkings of a toxic relationship, and i feel like i can... truly understand what the mc feels like now (i don’t know if that makes sense?). again, thank you for sticking around, and i hope to see you all in the next series i have planned!

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 2 ~Words~

Picture Source

Previously in Stories She Wrote ...

Claire ignored the jest. "So you really think I should publish my story?"

Her friend nodded excitedly. "Absolutely! You should have let me read it sooner. From what I've seen so far, you have good, solid material, and I'm convinced, when I read the rest, it will not disappoint." She stood up and smiled. "Come on, in as much as I'm all fired up after reading your story, I'm famished." She got up and left the room.

Instead of moving from her position, Claire stared at her work for a few seconds and just breathed. Although Willie and Annalise were sincere with their praises, she couldn't help but still feel nervous. This next step in her life could either turn out to be huge, or it could get her mocked out of a dream career she loved. 

Pushing aside her doubts and thinking of Jamie, she quickly compressed a copy of her story's file and sent it to him via email to read, hoping he would like her written work too

  If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

 WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL & LANGUAGE CONTENT

  Jamie walked into his cottage and was greeted by his dog Rollo and cat, Adso. He tossed his keys on the dining table as he absentmindedly rubbed his pets alternately behind the ears and scrolled through his phone. He smiled. There was an email notification from Claire and a text letting him know she would be calling after dinner. After turning on his laptop, he shrugged off his jacket, placed it on the back of his chair, and then went to the kitchen to feed his companions, thinking his own dinner would have to wait, too eager to read Claire's email. 

Feeling the chill, he put firewood onto the grate and set it alight, before making a mug of black tea and heading back to the dining table. Once there, instead of immediately opening his email, he stared at his desktop photo. It was of Claire, wearing nothing but his shirt and sitting cross-legged by the fireplace with a bowl of breakfast. Without conscious volition, he touched the picture on the screen and then brought his fingers against his lips. Miss you, Sassenach. Although work and obligations had filled his days, time seemed to go so painstakingly slow, his mind constantly wandering to her. It pained him not to have her by his side, but he knew it was a little sacrifice for what lay ahead of them.

Sighing, he opened the email. Please read and tell me what you think, love C, it said. 

After clicking on the attachment, he extracted the content and found a file with Word documents. He enlarged the first page, skimmed through the paragraphs and realised it was Claire's work. After taking a sip of his tea, he proceeded to read from the beginning.

A few paragraphs later, he was hooked. Not because Claire wrote it, but because of the beautiful marrying of emotions with words. He was instantly captivated. How could she have downplayed her talent when she had this innate gift? She once mentioned, there were talks among her peers, that editors were just frustrated authors. Weel, not this editor! he thought. But more than the mental images her storyline evoked, it was the words that moved him. It was as if he was reading a personal confession disguised in the characters she'd created and it spoked straight to his soul. He continued to read, and when he came upon a particular plot, his eyes slightly misted. 

From across the room, her gaze locked with his, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. A live wire crackled and sparked, launching showers of tiny fireworks to light every dark recess of her weary soul. 

It was always going to be like this every time she saw him, she sighed. After all these years, nothing had changed. 

In their youth, she'd believed, they were bound together, not by something tangible, but by a profound, powerful connection that is ancient and older than the planets. It was as if she'd envisioned them a million times aeons ago and the stars finally heeded and arranged for their paths to cross. 

It had started with a touch, a soft kiss, a subtle stirring of their souls, and as if by magic, their story began to write itself from thereon. His strength had been her protection, her heart, his shelter, and in each others' arms, they were home. For at one time, love between them had been powerful than the fate and deeper than a naked eye. But that was then, she reminded herself ...before he found out she was from another place and time. Out of this tragedy, which altered the course of her life, was the infinite curse she must bear alone. But she couldn't blame him. It was her fault.

As a tiny sob escaped her throat, a man bumped into her, jarringly breaking her reverie. Annoyed with herself for feeling weak, she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. And as she slowly made her way over to him, she hoped and prayed her face would not betray her emotions. There comes that significant point in life when one had to choose to either turn the page, write another book or simply close it. She chose the latter.

Jamie's heart drummed, and he puffed out a lungful of air. Settling back on his seat, he rubbed a hand over his face. He had this sudden burning urge to bundle Claire's story and gift it to the world. Why has she waited this long to pursue her dream? This is bloody insane! In each of the characters, he saw her - beautifully flawed and full of heart. She wielded words in her story as if she was tearing apart her own issues and exposing her loss and regrets, the courage and honesty so palpable, it jumped right off the screen. Och, Sassenach!

He needed more time to go through the story at a leisurely pace, so he skipped a few chapters out of mere curiosity and what he read next, made his heart rate doubled.

As soon as they were alone, she grabbed at his belt, her shaking fingers tugging the zipper. She'd waited for far too long and needed him now. Dropping down to her knees, she lowered his jeans to take him fully in her mouth, feeling him throb and jerk at her touch ...oh how she'd crave for the taste of him. She was hungry, oh so hungry, to feel his most private pulse beating against her palm. Despite the urgency she was feeling, she didn't rush as she wanted to savour every moment and taste of him.

He swallowed and realised his jeans were becoming too constricted. Ah Christ! There were only so many blows to the system a man could take and what he just read sent all the blood in his brain rushing southward so fast it nearly knocked him out of commission. Who would have thought a sex scene in a romance story could affect him so much?

He read a few more excerpts from the story, and when he eventually looked at the bottom right corner of his screen, he realised it was nearly ten. He'd been so engrossed with reading, he hadn't noticed the time. Claire was supposed to call. But maybe she's fallen asleep.

Reaching for his phone, he got up, shifted the bulging discomfort in his jeans and headed for the fridge. As his screen lit up, he tapped Claire's name and waited.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice thick and muffled, causing a sudden pulsing rush of longing in his stomach. A fog of cataclysmic lust descended, increasing the weight between his legs.

"Sassenach?" He grabbed a tin of beer, popped it open with one hand and made his way to the living room. "It's me." 

"I know." She yawned. "What time is it? Are you just coming home?"

"Ummm, no. I got yer email earlier." Smiling, he sat on the armchair and toed off a shoe. "I got caught up reading yer story, I forgot the time."

"A long day then. Sorry, I was supposed to call, but ...." He heard some rustling sound and then quiet.

He got his second shoe off and rested his feet on the coffee table. Right now, he wished he could teleport himself to Claire's side and slip in bed next to her. He'd wanted to come to London, but he'd been advised by Willie it was still too soon, and coming along could trigger his PTSD. Although the nightmares had stopped and he'd been following the meditation exercises Claire had told him to do, there were still times when panic attack got hold of him. They weren't as bad as before, but still, it was there lurking, ready to pounce at any time. He hadn't dared told his sister, Jenny, in case she nagged him to attend the therapy conducted by her friend Geneva. He knew what his sister was up to, and he wasn't about to fall for her matchmaking schemes.

He was just contemplating the merits of dropping everything and flying to London when he realised Claire had gone too quiet.

"Sassenach?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did ye just fall asleep on me?"

"Oh, umm, a little," she responded, utterly lacking in apology.

"Shall I let ye sleep? I can call again tomorrow."

"No!"

Relieved, he smiled. "So working too hard, I presume?"

"Yes," she mumbled. "Worked for seven hours straight. Then had too much food and wine, and too little fresh air. It made me drowsy afterwards. It's Willie's and Annalise's faults. They overfed me over dinner." 

"Mmm, in as much as I appreciate why ye're doing it, I dinnae want ye to become ill because of it." He heard another yawn and imagined her long, lean body stretching, her hair all wild against the pillow and her breast bare. When he realised where his mind was wandering to, he immediately put a stop to it. Christ, get a grip! With a steel will, he extinguished his filthy thoughts. "Ye should take care more of yersel', Sassenach."

"I'm fine ...honestly."

He was unconvinced but didn't push. "By the way, I read yer story. It's bloody good. No ...correction. It's great!"

"You like it!"

"I love it. Was that a story ye wrote a while ago? Or did ye write it recently?"

"A while ago," she hummed, her words muffled as if she had a pillow over the phone. 

He loved the way she sounded when sleep laced her voice. 

"Hmmm, a question ...how'd ye learn to write a sex scene like that, when ..." He needed a couple of seconds to find the right words. "...when ye were a virgin before we met."

"I might have been a virgin, but I never said I was a nun." 

He laughed out loud. It couldn't be helped. Though Claire could be shy at times, she always spoke her mind. "I'm sorry I didnae mean to laugh, Sassenach," he apologised when he finally sobered up. "It's just that ye wrote the sex part so vivid and graphic, it made me wonder how ye could have known the mechanics of lovemaking when ye were still a virgin at the time ye wrote that story."

"Well, I suppose I should confess ...before I met you, there might have been on a few occasions, that I had ..." 

"Watched porn?" 

"Yes ...but for research purposes," she said rapidly, her voice not sounding muffled anymore. She must have rolled on her back. "But what I meant to say was, I've had ...um ..." She trailed off.

He frowned. "Had what?"

"Physical contact, of course!" she replied with mild exasperation. 

Something heavy rolled over in his stomach. "Excuse me?"

She sighed. "When I use to date, dates sometimes end up in making out, kissing and petting, and I sort of got the gist of what normally happens afterwards." He heard her swallow. "I -I mean nothing happened of course ...at least, not in the biblical sense anyway. W-what I'm trying to say is, before we met ... I've never made it to the Old Testament with anyone. B-but you ... you're pretty special because you and I ...well, we're almost at the Revelations."

What the hell? She was rambling, and he realised she was becoming flustered. Her attempt to calm him down using the books of the Bible for analogy put a dent on his jealousy. He puffed out a breath. "I get it. I get it. Just do me a favour, Sassenach, will ye, huh? In the future, dinnae mention physical contact with other men ever again to me even if it's no' the biblical variety. It's bad enough we're separated, and here I am missing ye loads ..."

"Sorry, but you did ask how I knew about the mechanics of ..." she stopped and then sighed. "Let's change the subject, shall we?"

"Of course." He slugged back a mouthful of beer and placed it on the coffee table, before leaning back once more on his armchair. "We were talking about yer writing. I've read a few chapters, and I'm really enjoying it. Cannae wait to read the rest."

"I'm glad. Willie and Annalise liked it too," she replied, a smile in her voice.

"I'm not surprised. Ye should have published it a long time ago. Ye have a gift, Sassenach, one that I'm verra proud of." 

"Thank you. Writing does take a bit of time, and I needed a job while I was at it. I'm still glad I waited, though."

He shifted uncomfortably on his seat and paused, contemplating if ... "Are ye in the bedroom? Or did ye fall asleep on the couch?" 

"In my bedroom. I couldn't stand watching a movie with Willie and Annalise when all they do is snog in front of me. So I left them to it, thinking I'll rest my eyes for a few minutes before calling you. And that's when I fell asleep." Ah, the poor thing, she must have been so tired. At least she sounded a little more alert compared to earlier. "Seeing them cuddled up like that made me miss you loads," she added, huskily, "...and think of our time together."

Ah, hell! Her voice wasn't the only thing that was alert. His cock suddenly needed a wee adjustment. Again! He unzipped his jeans, purely for ease and comfort and to give himself room for a breathing space.

"You should sleep in tomorrow and get some fresh air too," he suggested, inhaling deeply through his nose as he felt the effects of the beer, reminding him he didn't have any food in his stomach.

"Definitely, I will have a sleep in." She drank something audibly and let out a sigh. "As for that fresh air, it will depend if it's raining or not. Annalise mentioned we're in for a horrendous weather tomorrow." He heard another delicate gulp.

"What are ye wearing, Sassenach?" His words came out before he could think and put a stop to it. It sounded much more sexual than he'd intended, gruff and hoarse, his dirty mind wandering to that explicit scene he read earlier.

There was a few seconds of silence. "Why?"

"Because I want to know ...if ye're warm enough."

"I'm warm enough." 

"So what are ye wearing?"

There was another moment of silence before she replied. "Oooh, I know what this is, James Fraser" she throatily laughed into his ears. "And, we are so not doing this." 

"Doing what?" he groaned, this time pulling out his cock. He couldn't deny himself any longer, when this woman on the other end of the line, rained havoc to his good sense. Running a calloused hand down the length of himself, he gave his throbbing erection a nice hard squeeze. "I'm only asking solely out of concern for yer health. It's cold, and I worry ye might catch ...umm ...pneumonia." He almost laughed out loud at his lame logic.

"Pneumonia? You don't have to worry, Jamie. It's warm in the apartment, and it doesn't take much to heat a small place,," she said with a hint of amusement. "And I'm not naked ...not totally anyway."

"Oh," he gritted, fisting his cock from the base to the head, as a blow of harsh breath escaped his mouth. He felt like a depraved, desperate man, but it couldn't be helped when his cock was so achingly stiff, and he wanted relief. No amount of wanking in the shower earlier had eased his need for her. In fact, it only intensified it.

As he continued to stroke himself, the house's interior closed in around him, the sounds of fire popping doing nothing to reduce the extreme feeling of airlessness. At this moment, as far as he was concerned, they were the only two people in the whole wide world awake, right here and right now, and he would die if he didn't get any release soon.

"I'm wearing undies," she finally said.

Allelujah! His fist tightened around his hardness, moisture seeping from its head. "Ah, Sassenach," he murmured. He imagined her, stretched out on her bed, the duvet kicked off, and how she had looked in those tiny cotton knickers. "And a pyjama top?" he muttered. 

"No," she sighed in sweet response, a slight shyness creeping in her next words. "I forgot to turn off the radiator before I went to bed. It's so warm I must have yanked off my top while sleeping." 

"Sweet Jesus!" He stilled his hand and cupped his balls, seeing her creamy breasts in his mind's eye. 

"Jamie ...what are ye doing? I mean, I think I know what you are doing. But I've never done this before," she whispered. "Maybe I should go and let you ...um ...finish your business?"

"No! Please." He closed his eyes and slumped deeper into the armchair, his feet spreading apart and his head falling back. "I need ye." 

"I ...I don't know how ..." 

"Sassenach." Saying his pet name for her was a mild distraction from the throbbing ache in his hand, as he swiped a thumb over the head of his erection and spread the moisture seeping out. "My cock is so rock hard, I think I might black the fuck out from wanting ye. Dinnae torture me by leaving me hanging."

Her breath hitched, and it was the most beautiful sound in his ears. "So you really are touching yourself?" she asked on a huffed breath.

"Jesus, Sassenach! Ye have nae idea, do ye? I wank every day and night to yer image in my head ...stroking so hard I can hardly breathe, thinking of our last night together ..." he swallowed with difficulty, his hand busy fisting himself. "It's so lonely without ye, and every waking moment is filled with thoughts of ye naked in my bed and every night ye haunt my dreams. What I would give to touch ye right now and plunge my cock between yer thighs." 

She gasped, and he wished he could feel her hot breath on his neck. "Jamie ...I don't even know what to say ... I ...this is out of my comfort zone.." 

"Touch yersel', and tell what ye're thinking," he commanded as he closed his eyes, the heels of his feet pushing against the floor and his muscles thighs tightening hard. "Have ye ever touched yersel'? Tell me." 

"Before you came along, there's been no one, and you know that," she said haughtily. "Giving myself an orgasm is the only reason why I remained a virgin for so long. I call it self-service." 

He let out a burst of pained laughter despite himself. "Ah, Christ, I'd love to kiss that smart-arsed mouth while taking ye hard ..." 

"I like it when you ..." she cut in, and he held his breath, agonisingly waiting for her to complete the sentence. "...kiss me between the legs." He heard her voice fade a little and swishing movements. "I think of you doing that when ...um, my hand is between my thighs."

"Is yer hand between yer thighs now?"

"Y-yes ..."

"Slide yer fingers in, Sassenach. And tell me ...are ye wet?"

"Yes ..." she softly moaned.

"How wet?"

"Very."

Ah, fuck!

He always thought dirty talks were arousing, but each shy admission by Claire was too bloody erotic for words, it made the already taut and strained tether of his self-control about to snap. He uttered her name with a litany of invocations to the saints, his hips shifting against the soft of his seat and his breathing becoming heavier. "Ye ken what I'll do to ye when I get to finally see ye? I'm no' letting ye out of bed," he groaned. "I'm gonnae worship that beautiful body of yers with my mouth until my lips are branded to your skin, and yer scent embedded in mine and yer taste in my mouth. Ye still have yer fingers inside ye?"

"Yes ..."

"Now imagine it's my tongue lapping ye up."

She sobbed, a whimpering sound full of longing and his heart twisted in a knot, creating a cluster that descended down to his belly and found its way to his cock, making his balls draw higher. His exhale came out like an animalistic grunt as Claire's breathing became more shallow. She gasped out his name, a soft plea that he badly wanted so much to pacify.

"Oh, sweet Lord, I want you so much, Jamie. I miss your hands on me," she whispered, her voice enveloping him, he could almost feel her breath on his heated skin. "Please don't stop talking ..."

"Ye think I could stop, Sassenach? I'd sell my soul just to hear ye come." Something told him the cries coming from Claire's mouth would ring in his head for days to come. Broken, sweet, desperate moans, interrupted by her breath hitching. Like she was drowning, just like him. "Ye miss me touching ye, is that right? Weel, let me tell ye something," he said hoarsely. "I spend every night looking at the bloody ceiling of my bedroom, envisioning yer sweet tits bouncing like wee temptations while ye ride me on my creaky bed. It hasn't creaked the way it used to, ever since ye left. And on some nights, I would lay on my tummy and grind myself against the mattress just to hear it creak and pretend it's not the bed I'm fucking," His hand went into overdrive stroking himself, fast and relentless. "But we both know we want the real thing, don't we now?"

"Yes, yes, yes," she whispered in a husky loop.

"Jesus, so sweet, my beautiful Sassenach ..." A drumming began in his head, inflicted by the raspy sound of her voice, the way her breath became laboured when he talked dirty to her. 

The pressure within him rose, and his breath came out in short, head-spinning gulps of air, his senses more heightened for knowing who the cause was for his predicament. Claire. Ah, Christ, he'd never anticipated for the possessiveness that tightened around his heart with a permanence that didn't alarm him. In fact, he'd always known, right from the beginning, she was the one for him. She was the only one who moved him to take a risk in love, to abuse his body for relief ...

"Jamie ...oh God ..."

Hissing out a wounded groan, Jamie fisted the base of his cock and pumped furiously. "I'm here, Sassenach," he whispered. "I hear ye. Always here for ye."

"I'm coming ..." she moaned. "Oh, my God ..."

His heart expanded as he listened to her, her breath shallow, his name a whisper, and he could picture her, turning and twisting against the sheets with her hand between her thighs. He was so close, it hurt. When he couldn't hold off any longer, he let go, his own orgasm coming in full force, spouting out of from his cock, seizing his body in an almost paralysing bliss. It went on forever, his seed spurting into his hand and thighs, his shouts reverberating off the walls and ceiling as the pleasure surged through him and rearranging everything in its route.

Finally spent, he slumped back on his seat, his breathing coming out in choppy waves as his chest rose and fell. After a long stretch of silence between them, he put down his phone and whipped off his shirt to clean himself up. By the time he grabbed it back and placed it against his ear, Claire's breath was calmer.

"Jamie?" There was a trace of doubt or maybe guilt in her voice.

Knowing Claire's strict Catholic upbringing in the boarding school, he didn't want her thinking what they did was wrong as it would only cheapen what they just shared. He needed to reassure her. "Sssh, Sassenach, I ken what ye're gonnae say. What happened between us was ... incredible. And ye ken, why?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Because we love each other. Ye understand?"

There was a long pause before she replied and he imagined her biting her lower lip in contemplation. "Yes," she replied eventually, her voice barely a whisper. And after waiting a few seconds more, he heard her soft snore and even breathing.

Smiling, he murmured good night and turned off the phone. He was just about to close his eyes to savour the moment when the doorbell rang, and a spooked Adso suddenly leapt onto his lap. Bloody hell! He plopped the cat down, righted his jeans and quickly got up, and as he peered through the window, he saw Mrs Fitz, the owner of the Airbnb from across the road, holding a dish in her hands.

What the ...? He opened the door. "Mrs Fitz!" The scent of freshly baked apple pie wafted from the dish she was carrying, making his stomach grumble. "It's kinda late. Is everything alright?" he asked, eyeing the aluminium covered plate. 

"Aye, son," she said, frowning, her eyes bypassing him as if she was in search of something or someone. "I saw the light, and I thought ye might like a bit of pudding ...for after tea perhaps or for breakfast. Yer lass ...Miss Beauchamp, I mean Claire is not here so I thought I'd check up on ye."

Jamie thought the older woman was acting a bit odd, the way she was trying to strain her neck to look beyond him. "Oh, Claire ...I was just on the phone with her."

Both her eyebrows arched. Then the frown on her face dissipated, replaced with a relieved smile and a reddening on her plump cheeks. "Oh, of course. I thought I heard some strange sounds. Ye must have been talking to her." She pushed the dish towards him. "Very well then, now that everything seems to be in order, I must go." Without waiting for him to reply, she whirled around and hurriedly left.

As Jamie stared at her disappearing figure, it slowly dawned on him, Mrs Fitz must have heard the sound he'd made while in the throes of self-love passion. Groaning inwardly, he realised Claire's writing studio shed wasn't the only place that needed soundproofing. If Claire was going to stay with him, he needed to soundproof the whole cottage. Bloody nosy neighbours!

  Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the positive feedback from the previous chapter - what a warm welcome from my readers. So chuffed reading the comments and seeing the kudos. Kudos right back at you, you wonderful lot!

I'll keep this short and sweet because I have heaps of things to do, but before I go, I'm sending you all my best wishes during this very odd times. Keep the good vibes rolling, ditched the negativity and most of all, take care of your health. Until next time ... X

[jjpmoans]

t’aimer sans cesse

↦ song: Hesitate from Eyes On You 

↦ lyrics: 'Yes, you, why are you making me this confused?/ I don't get you any more' 

↦ word count : 9k+

↦ genre : roommates to lovers

↦ warnings : fluffs, angst if you squint really hard

↦ summary : Park Jinyoung. You. Jeong Jaehyun. As complicated as it seems, you’d be honest when you said, you didn’t expect to be involved in this whole love triangle. Have you been missing signals or have he been sending you absolutely invisible signals? Is your radar broken? How have you not know? How have you been so dense? How long have you been foolishly hurting him?

↦ a/n : Hey everyone! I’m back with a new fic! I’m soo sorry it’s been a drought here on my blog. But i’m back and looks like Mr Jeong is joining us this time~ Anyways, this fic is written for the GOT7 Alive Fest on twitter and if anyone is interested, go check it out on @/GOT7_Alive_2020. They have both artists and writers joining the fest! Most of them post on ao3 and I am probably the only one who post on tumblr. Nevermind that, I hope you love the fic! Thank you for reading!

Morning classes are by far, the most hated part of your schedule. You don’t like waking up early, which explains why you’re not a morning person. You don’t remember when was the last time you met the morning birds and the sunrise since you usually wake up after ten in the morning and the sun is already up. You missed the chirping and the first ray of the morning but you’d trade anything for sleep at the moment. 

“Jinyoung.” you groan when you feel a finger poking your cheek and pinching it. You know it’s him, who else is patient to wake you up? Bambam and Yugyeom have long given up trying to wake you since you refused all their advances, even coaxing you with food. “I don’t want to wake up.”

You heard a few rustling and you exhaled in relief. Perhaps Jinyoung will let you off the hook and let you sleep this once. You don’t have that many morning classes, to be honest. You only have one, and that’s on every Tuesday. Usually you wake up and sign the attendance then go back to sleep since you had online learning for this semester, but since the situation has toned down and the university has reopened, today marks the first day of on-site class. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” you hear his voice and a few seconds later, you feel your face getting wet and his palm softly applying cold water all over your face. Another dip into the basin and he returns his palm to your face with another round of wiping the cold water all over your face which he carefully presses it on your eyelids. “Wake up. You have class at nine.”

You grumble, turning away from him to continue sleeping but at this moment, you’re almost wide awake after he technically washes your face for you. You can hear Jinyoung chuckling and you’re positive now that he has successfully woken you up. “Urgh. I hate how you wake me up easily.”

“Not my fault that I’m an expert.” he laughs upon seeing you getting out of his bed and into the bathroom. “Hurry up. I’m taking you to breakfast.”

“For what?” you appear again with your toothbrush inside your mouth. 

“To eat, you dummy. Your class ends at eleven and you’d be starving by then.” he picks a book out of your shared bookshelf, flipping it to the page he left before. “Hurry up! I’m giving you ten minutes!”

You stare in disbelief at him and when he sees you’re unmoved, he throws you one of your small pillows to get you moving. “Tik tok, y/n! Move fast!”

“I can’t believe you shove me into the bathroom.” you frown when Jinyoung just laugh at your complaint. He indeed shoved you into the shower after you’ve been standing for too long while brushing your teeth. “We aren’t even late!”

“You’ll thank me later.” Jinyoung grins, walking into the busy cafe. People are getting their first coffee supply of the day and so do you. Jinyoung and you are both coffee people, it just made sense to start the day with a cup of iced Americano.

As usual, Jinyoung will queue up so you can find a seat for both of you while waiting. It’s easy to catch a spot in the cafe during the morning since most people pack to-go breakfast. So you carefully choose a table for two, a bit far from the counter and hidden from the excessive sun exposure but still be able to see people entering the cafe. 

It’s just an unconscious habit of yours, to watch whoever that passes through the door. It’s just amusing to you how most people fall into the same time schedule, about fifty people probably have the same class to attend and twenty seven of them need coffee before class. 

“Here.” a tray of drinks and food appears before you, you make space for Jinyoung to place the drinks out of the tray and put the tray away. It’s so obvious which one of the food is yours and which one is Jinyoung’s. He prefers to have croissants for breakfast while you prefer egg sandwiches since you’ll be fuller and can last until lunch time. “Saw anyone you know?”

You shake your head before taking a big bite of your sandwich, munching them happily. The man before you just laugh at your behaviour, fifteen minutes ago you were wrestling with him to get into the shower and now you’re just behaving like a child, eating her breakfast with joy.

He sees the corner of your lips smudged with the mayo and his heart skips a beat, wondering how can you be so adorable being so messy. He can’t stand someone munching loudly but here he is, watching the corner of your lips moving and the sauce is still there. So he extends his hand, wiping your lips and retracts to lick his thumb back, before going back to eat his own croissant.

You didn’t mind, it’s not actually out of the ordinary. Jinyoung smiles, knowing how comfortable you are with him. Sometimes he wishes you don’t, because right now he just wanted to let you know how badly he’s in love with you. 

But of course he can’t. As best friends, he can’t. His feelings aren’t worth the awkward encounters or the cold treatment you’ll be giving him once you learn that he’s in love with you. 

“Alright so for the assignment partners,” your professor announces, indicating the class is ending in ten minutes. During the quarantine, he has decided that all assignments will be graded individually since the quarantine was expected to run longer. However with the on-site classes coming to life again, he wanted to make the last assignment graded in partners, so that he can actually provide better materials for the lecturers audit session. 

You heard your name being called and you swear your breath hitches when another name follows yours, loud and clear. “Jeong Jaehyun.”

“Oh my god.” your friend next to you gasps, utterly speechless at revelation of your partner. You as well, are shocked and completely blank out. “Oh my god. You got the golden boy.”

“Oh my god.” repeating the phrase over and over again, your friend taps you multiple times and you feel your throat dried. One of the reasons why she’s so excited is because you’ve developed a crush towards the golden boy from the start of the semester and she knows. She, who goes by the name Mina, is your only friend from the same course.  However it was short lived since you only got three classes with him and the quarantine started. Either way, you’ve completely forgotten about your crush until he was brought up again, 

You took Mathematics as an elective just because you thought it was fun and you wanted to try it. Jinyoung couldn’t make it, Psychology students are always packed and you, as the Language student, have too much time to spare.

“Mina. this is insane.” you are having a minor breakdown and Mina isn’t helping, squealing when she sees Jaehyun walking over towards your seat, nudging you not so subtly. “My lord, don’t nudge me like that-”

He stops in front of you and for a second you forget how to breathe, extremely mesmerized by his presence. Here’s why he’s the golden boy.

You knew from a classmate that he comes from the Engineering faculty, taking Mathematics as one of his complementary subjects in order to fulfill his credit hours requirement for this semester. It’s a given that he excels in mathematics as he’s an engineering student but his other achievements make him even more dreamy and absolutely golden. 

Jaehyun is also very popular in sports, he’s one of the baseball club players, the one and only sport club that is making names for your university. It doesn’t need you to attend their matches to know how well he’s been playing. His fame makes up for it. They have been winning almost every match and well, he contributes about two third of the scores. Above all of that, he’s apparently a member of NCT frat, where every single member is magnificently handsome, carved and painted by god himself.

In short, he’s the standard boyfriend you’ll never get.

“Uhm.” okay he has a bit of a flaw — no, not a flaw. Despite how famous he is, he’s apparently an introvert. He gets shy quite easily, more reasons to like him. The tip of his ears will be red if he feels nervous or shy and you don’t know what is cuter than that. “Hey.”

You forgot how to talk just by looking at him. Never would you have thought you’d be able to talk to him, well given the situation and his social status, you have no doubt you’re out of his circle. It’s only when Mina secretly pinches your thigh that you manage to find your voice, clearing your throat to reply to him. “Hi. Sorry, I’ve been so rude. I’m y/n.”

He offers you a smile. Jeong Jaehyun offers you a smile. You can finally die in peace. “I know. I’ve heard a lot of things about you.”

Oh. What is this? How does he know about you? Scratch that, why would he know anything about you?

“Wha- what? Excuse me?”

He chuckles and Mina’s gasp is completely audible to your ears now, you have no idea if Jaehyun catches that. But you know he does, after all his ears won’t lie to him. “I know you. You’re Jinyoung’s girlfriend.”

Even nothing comes out from Mina, you know she’s laughing. Of course, your reputation is affiliated with Jinyoung. There isn’t any person on the campus who doesn’t know about you and Jinyoung. To say you’re Jinyoung’s best friend is absolutely underrated, so they upgraded your status to Jinyoung’s girlfriend. You’re so close to Jinyoung that it made a lot of his fangirls mad. Why? Because just like Jaehyun, Jinyoung is a member of a frat. 

GOT frat specifically.

Things got complicated and you got his fangirls harassing you to the extent of harming you in your own house during your first semester. After much consideration, Jinyoung figured that it is safer for you to stay with him instead. No one will be able to harm you in a frat house, mainly because he is there but also, his members are very protective of you too. 

Hence he got Jaebeom to go to the administration and arranged your residency exchange. You have no idea how Jaebeom managed to convince them since no girls are allowed to reside in an all boys frat. However he powered through and the news spread as fast as they could, making you officially Jinyoung’s girlfriend and off market.

“Lord, not this again.” you mutter quietly but goodness gracious of course he heard it. Jaehyun’s laughter resonates again and this time you decided to just fuck it. “Firstly no, I’m not Jinyoung’s girlfriend. I’m his best friend and I have no idea why people keep saying I’m his girlfriend.”

“Maybe because you act like a couple?” Jaehyun offers his thoughts. Probably it’s true, Jinyoung has a soft spot for you. Maybe because he feels sorry for what you’ve been through, however you don’t mind. You love when Jinyoung is being protective of you. It reminds you of how much he cared for you.

“Yeah. Nevermind that. Do you want to talk about the assignment?” you hate to ruin the moment but you figured he needed to go somewhere and you’re already holding him back. If you want to chit chat, you can do it when you meet for the assignment.

“Oh yes.” he quickly whips out his phone and scans the task given, quickly sliding his phone to your direction. “Okay so I’ve done question no 1 and just need you to look over them in case I did them wrong-”

He- what? He already did the assignment? Screw it, you’re in love with him already.

“So we just need to work on the second question.” he finishes his sentence and looks up to you, flashing his dimples away. Ah right, his deep dimples are exactly the reason why you’ve taken a liking in him. Whenever you have online classes, a strand of his luscious brown hair will naturally parted away from the others, his dimples showing up occasionally when he’s solving questions. Out of every single window on the screen, you’ve been intently watching his window, mesmerized by his good looking face. “I guess we can set the time and place for us to work on this?”

You unconsciously nod, before quickly snapping out of your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m actually fine anywhere. I’ll check my schedules and we can try to set any time for it?”

Jaehyun hums, hesitated before asking, “Will you be comfortable if we do it at my place?”

Another quiet squeal makes you roll your eyes, at this point Mina isn’t trying to be subtle anymore. Jaehyun has been laughing whenever she lets out any kind of noises, which embarrass you even more. “Wait- you mean NCT frat!?”

You can’t believe she just asked that. 

“Wow, y/n. Spare me some of your luck, please.” she tugs on your arms to which you shrug her off easily.

“Shut up.” you tell her before catching Jaehyun’s attention again. “I’m okay with NCT frat. I’ll text you before I come over?”

“Yeah,” he replies distractedly when his phone shows an incoming voice call, seeming important since he freaks out, whipping his head to the door. “Sorry, the boys are having some meeting and I need to go now.”

He hands you his phone, his dial pad showing up. “Put your number in. I’ll text you.”

If someone ever tells you that Jeong Jaehyun will offer his phone to get your number, even for an assignment, you’d definitely assume that they’re insane and tell them to stop giving you false hope. But now you’re filling your phone number in Jeong Jaehyun’s phone and it feels more like a dream than a reality.

Only when he’s out of the lecture hall that you’re able to breathe, accompanied by Mina’s never ending teasing. Lord, why are you being extra kind today?

Unknown Hey it’s Jaehyun :)

You almost drop your phone before making unrealistic noises, your heart jumping in joy. You don’t wish to disturb Jinyoung who’s studying at his table but this calls for celebration. 

“Oh my god!” you decided to let it loose and quickly dance in the middle of your room out of giddiness. Jeong Jaehyun has officially texted you and he’s waiting for you to reply. “Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh!!”

Jinyoung stares at your dancing figure with an eyebrow raised, his pen in between his teeth. To say that your sudden dance abnormal is an understatement, he’s been watching you do even crazier and dumber things in the middle of the night during examination weeks but that’s out of stress. So he lets you cool down – not really since you’re still grinning while holding your phone. Definitely, something is wrong.

“Wait how do I reply-” you fumble with your keyboard, thinking of a proper sentence. It’s been three minutes since his text and it’s the perfect time to reply back. You have to act like you didn’t wait for him to reply.

Y/n Hi! Yeap, y/n here.

What do you say more? Did the meeting go well?

You contemplate writing another sentence when his reply comes in, startling you in the process.

Unknown Have you checked your schedule? What day are you free?

Y/n I did and I am free on monday and wednesday afternoon, then friday evening. Hbu?

Unknown Oh crap. I’m only free on wednesday evening 

Golden boy curses too? Oohh, hot.

Y/n Uh… I don’t mind doing it on the weekend? If you don’t have practise or anything.

Unknown Unfortunately [Sticker] I have baseball practice in the morning. But

Y/n But what

Unknown Can we make it at night? We can do the assignment in the next two weeks.  I have an upcoming submission and I’m fully booked this weekend. I’m sorry I promise you I’ll provide you snacks.

Y/n What am I? Five years old? [Sticker] I don’t mind. The due date is still far away.

Unknown Oh so you don’t want snacks?

Y/n Shut up. Give me McDonalds.

Unknown Deal. A princess will get what princess wants.

Your heart skips a beat. He calls you princess? From the first text? This sounds like a frat boy attitude. For a moment you laugh at yourself, of course he is. He’s technically a frat boy.

“Okay you’re creeping me out.” Jinyoung finally stands up from his study table and proceeds to sit on his bed. Your study table is next to his bed while his study table is at the foot of his bed. “You’ve been smiling creepily while texting. Who’re you texting with?”

You quickly reply to Jaehyun with a sticker and lock your phone, facing Jinyoung who’s still confused about what’s going on. You can’t handle this alone and you need to tell Jinyoung. If anything, Jinyoung is the first person that shall know.

“You know Jeong Jaehyun?”

He gives you an incredulous look, of course, who doesn’t know Jeong Jaehyun? One must be blind and deaf if they don’t know the golden boy. “Really? You’re asking me this now?”

You dismiss him immediately, moving to sit next to him on his bed. “He texted me.”

“He texted you?”

“Yes!” you almost screamed at him but hold back and throw yourself on his pillow, kicking the air. “We got partnered for an assignment and he texted me!”

Jinyoung is absolutely clueless because he stares at you again, confused. “So? Why are you so happy about it?”

“Oh god Jinyoung! You don’t understand!”

“Then tell me! And for god sake stop kicking already!”

You sit back up and watch Jinyoung carefully, before explaining, “Jinyoung. A handsome boy, from NCT frat texted me. And he’s not just any NCT member, he’s the golden boy. The standard boyfriend-you’ll-never-have. The Jeong Jaehyun.”

“And he texted me. And he calls me princess!” You watch Jinyoung’s face contorted with disgust and you push him away roughly. He would never understand. He’s not having a crush on Jaehyun.

“So what? I can call you princess too. What’s so special?” Jinyoung has now moved higher on the bed and his hands are crossed. This is why you need a girl best friend. When you have a boy best friend they are so dumb and they can’t understand this joy.

“Oh god. Because he’s so dreamy and I got a crush on him!” you lunge towards Jinyoung and shake him, forcing the information to sink inside his brain. “My crush just called me princess, can you believe it!!???”

“You have a crush on Jaehyun?”

“Urgh. You’re so slow.” you get up and reach for the door, yanking it open. “I’m going to Jackson. He’ll be more enthusiastic to listen to my story than you.”

You close the door and leave Jinyoung alone, stoned and unmoved on his bed.

You didn’t realise it but the previous sentence left Jinyoung speechless, sending him into a shock.

You like Jeong Jaehyun? Oh shit. Jinyoung is in a deep deep shit.

“Hi.” the door opens, revealing Johnny who looks like he’s been expecting you for a while. 

“Oh! Y/n!” he screams, well not screaming but definitely a higher octave than usual conversation tone. “Come in! Jaehyun told us that you’re coming over.”

Like you have agreed, Jaehyun invites you to come over two weeks after You enter the house, a fresh smell greeting you softly. The layout of the frat is just like yours, except that it is bigger, well to accommodate 21 people in one house. There’s only a few minor differences from your house, like how the kitchen and the living room looks extremely bigger.

You spot someone at the kitchen and you nod timidly, showing your respect in someone’s house. Lord, you feel overwhelmed.

“Who’s at the door- oh!” a high pitched tone yell from the fridge and you see Lucas hugging a jar of milk, probably taking it out. “Jaehyun hyung! Your pretty partner is here!”

You blush at the nickname, quickly trail behind Johnny who offers to send you to Jaehyun’s room. You agree, you can’t possibly manage to find his room by yourself. Actually, you take your words back. This house has a different layout than GOT’s frat, definitely you won’t trust yourself around here. One mistake and you’d probably end up in a room with at least three naked men.

“I have no idea why you’d yell, Lucas.” Johnny comments, ascending the stairs. “Jaehyun can’t even hear you.”

“I know. I just want to call her pretty.”

“Oh god.” your face reddens when Lucas continues to tease you that by the time you reach Jaehyun’s room, you’re as bright as a tomato.

“Heyyy you’re here- wow what happened? Why are you so red?” as soon as he opens his door, Jaehyun bends over to see your reddening face, scanning for any suspicious injury. Johnny however, starts laughing and he’s lucky you just met him today or else you’d already jab him with your fist. “Come one, Johnny. Who did this to her?”

“Lucas that kid. He’s teasing her all the way up the stairs.”

“Oh.” Jaehyun laughs as well, beckoning you to enter his room. “Shut that one up for me.”

“Aite, golden boy.”

You manage to tone down your redness after fanning it while watching Jaehyun’s minimally decorated room, all in black and white, three beds lining up next to each other, the study table at one corner and their closet at the other end. It’s a big room and with three people living in it, it still has spaces to work on the floor.

“Sorry if you find it messy.” Jaehyun rubs the back of his head sheepishly when you seated yourself on the floor, in front of the folding table that he has prepared. “I forced Jungwoo and Jeno to clean the room since you’re coming over.”

“So if you find anything suspicious, just ignore them okay?” you chuckle at his choice of words, as if you’d probably find something. The whole room looks clean, or so how it looks. You doubt you can find anything.

“I’m serious. I always find questionable things and you don’t want to know what they are.”

“Oh.” now that is something you didn’t think of. You know how they always hold parties and a lot of people come over, but you definitely didn’t think of that. “Okay now I’m afraid to move.”

Jaehyun lets out a hearty laugh, seating himself next to you comfortably. “Don’t worry. Nothing can harm you here.”

“Knock knock!” instead of knocking, Haechan chooses to enunciate the sound and in a split second he opens the door, posing at the door frame. “The delivery man is here and I’m not rich to pay for it.”

Jaehyun sighs as he pulls out his wallet, throwing it to Haechan. “Swipe it.”

You turn to Jaehyun, halting in your calculation. “Did you really order McDonalds?”

“I promised you.” he says softly, looking back at his own paper. “What my princess wants is what my princess gets.”

You swear the air suddenly gets hotter and Jaehyun turns super flirty since his first text. You kept texting back and forth, the awkward texts have long forgotten, now it’s always him asking you about your day and sending memes he found on the internet. 

“Are we flirting now?”

“Depends on how you define flirt.” he smiles and that damn dimples show up again, impossible making you even more giddy. “I’d say, I’m being me.”

“This is how you are?” you look at him up and down, giving him a disapproving look. “Do you flirt with every girl you meet?”

Jaehyun comes closer to you, looking at you straight in the eye. “I’ll have you know one thing.”

“I never bring any girl into the frat. Not even hookups.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t do hookups.”

“But I’m just an assignment partner.”

“Definitely not for me.”

You later learnt that Jaehyun has ordered every single meal on the menu because he doesn’t know what you like. You almost got tricked when you came downstairs and saw the food untouched when all the boys were practically circling the dining table but no one touched anything. It’s only after you picked your burger, fries and drink together with Jaehyun’s food that Haechan sprinted towards the table and started the food war with others.

“You just have to ask me, you know.” you tell him while he walks you home, smiling sheepishly while getting scolded. “You wasted a lot on the meals.”

“It’s not wasting.” he defends himself. “I let everyone eat the remaining. It’s not wasting.”

“Yeah, that’s one thing.”

The walk home is silent, a comforting silent. His house and yours is just a few houses apart but he still insists on sending you home. It feels so short because just in five minutes, you fall in step in front of your house. Tonight, you experience something new. You experience another set of happiness, surrounded by Jaehyun and his friends.

It’s different from being with Jinyoung and the boys, it just feels like it. With GOT frat, you feel like home while with NCT frat, you feel exhilarated.

“Hey.” you hear Jaehyun calls, making you turn to him. “I want to let you know that I enjoy talking to you.”

Your features soften, of course, you like talking to him too. “Same here, Jaehyun.”

He grins, walking backwards. “Talk to you later!”

“Good night pretty girl!” you shush him when he shouts a bit too loud. He laughs, running to his house while screaming the same sentence, absolutely madness. You love talking to him, perhaps a bit more than he does.

“Jinyoung.” he calls, trying to shake the said male into reality. However he gives no response, staring into space making Jaebeom sigh in frustration. “Stop making that face. It’s obvious enough that you’re jealous.”

“What face?” Jinyoung glares, putting his Americano cup down and exhales shakily. He knows what kind of face Jaebeom was referring to. His annoyed face. “I am not jealous.”

“Oh really? Geez, I would never know,” Jaebeom rolls his eyes sarcastically. If looks can slice, Jaehyun must have been slaughtered by the Jinyoung’s total concentration water breathing form and poof! He’d be a verified demon slayer. 

“Shut up.” It’s been an hour and you are still there, sitting at the table by the window, talking to Jaehyun. He has been eyeing you since you entered the cafe and was about to call for you but realised that a certain male has followed you after, seating both of you further from people. He’s not mad, no. He’s a tad bit sad. He doesn’t like this unsettling feeling and it hurts even more when he sees Jaehyun’s concentrated eyes gazing on you.

He knows that gaze. That’s just how he looks at you.

Ever since you first told him that Jaehyun texted you, something has changed. You start spending less and less time with him and more time with Jaehyun. You start waking early and rush downstairs, just to go on a morning walk with Jaehyun. At night when it’s supposed to be your time with Jinyoung, you’d spend it talking to Jaehyun, if not texting all night.

You haven’t realised it but Jinyoung is extremely jealous. 

He never had you that enthusiastic with him. You’re always you, nothing special you’d change just for Jinyoung. And the thought of it makes him sad, sad that he’s actually just a friend. 

“I think you should tell her, you know.” Jaebeom starts. Ever since you revealed that you had a crush on Jaehyun, Jinyoung has been constantly broken. It’s like you pressed a switch inside his brain and he malfunctioned himself. It’s rare to see Jinyoung acting out of character but this is what love does to people. It made you go insane. “What’s the point of torturing yourself watching the woman you love talking to another handsome man with heart shooting out of her eyes?”

“So you agree he’s handsome?”

“Jinyoung.” Jaebeom shakes his head exaggeratedly. “It’s Jeong Jaehyun we’re talking about. We all know that NCT house has some magic shit going around because every single member from that frat is drop dead hot and handsome. Now don’t avoid this. Tell her before it’s too late.”

Jinyoung has officially gone blank. He wanted to tell her, he really does. Jinyoung can’t count those nights where he has drawn a perfect plan in his mind, watching you sleep while mouthing unsaid words to you. He really wanted to tell you that he loves you. He had been in love with you for so long, he has forgotten when exactly he harboured his feelings for you. All he knows, one day he woke up and he felt his heart threatened to burst at the sight of you. 

However every single plan has its flaws and Jinyoung’s plan involves throwing your friendship into the mix. If only he’s not afraid to risk your friendship, he would have tried his damn luck. He would have confessed and he wouldn’t give any damn whether you’d be awkward or not. Things will be easier if he has no attachment. Yet, this attachment is the thinnest line he wouldn’t dare to cross.

“I can’t, Beom-ah.” he sounds helpless, the most helpless Jaebeom ever heard and they are childhood friends. He knew Jinyoung since they were eleven and nothing, nothing  ever broke Jinyoung this bad. Jinyoung is never a quitter but this time, Jaebeom sees him quitting. “I can’t risk our friendship, Jaebeom. I can’t. I can handle her fawning over someone else but I can’t afford being apart from her.”

Jinyoung is never helpless but somehow, he’s helpless when it comes to you.

“So you’re going to let her date Jaehyun?” Jaebeom, though his heart wrenches seeing Jinyoung so broken, he’s not going to let Jinyoung give up. “Because I’m telling you, Jinyoung. Jaehyun isn’t playing. We know how someone looks when they’re in love. I’ve seen it on you and believe me or not, I saw it on Jaehyun.”

Jinyoung has never been unconfident. He’s always that one student who is constantly positive that it will turn out well in the end. He believes that even if it’s bad now, it will be better soon. Beat him but now, he sees nothing like that. He can’t bring himself to think that if he confesses to you it will turn out good. That even if something happens, even if you distance yourself from him, you will be okay in the end.

Because it won’t.

“Tell her before it’s too late please.” half pleading, Jaebeom just can’t see his friend being this lost. “Tell her even if it risks your relationship.”

“What if I lose her?” he can’t answer that, of course Jaebeom can’t. It’s not his place to make an escape plan, it certainly is not his place to come up with your answer. But there’s one thing he is sure of.

“Then she certainly doesn’t deserve you.” 

“I need to talk to you.” Jinyoung starts, watching you focusing on your screen. Like always, you are grinning, probably laughing at some TikTok videos that Jaehyun sent you. 

“One second, Jinyoung.” you quickly type a reply and lock the phone, setting it face down. Another thing that has changed ever since you started talking to Jaehyun. Before, you had nothing to hide but now? Jinyoung doesn’t know you anymore.

You’re now totally focused on him, your eyes staring straight into his eyes but it’s different. It doesn’t feel the same. It feels like you’re someone else. You’re not his girl anymore. 

“Jinyoung?”

“Hm?” it’s bothering him how foreign his name comes out from you. It’s been a month and if he counts, you probably utter his name only twice a day. “Oh yes. The talk.”

You are sitting cross legged on your chair, waiting patiently for Jinyoung to start. You realised it too, that you’ve been spending less time with Jinyoung. You do feel sorry for him and you have an inkling that he wanted to talk to you about it. Jinyoung rarely needs to have a talk with you unless he feels bothered, and now you can see how bothered he is.

Taking a look at him, you suddenly feel your heart wrenches. How long have you stopped giving attention to Jinyoung? He has this frown on his face now, sometime you never see before. His hair is a bit longer and his hair colour is a lighter shade of brown. 

Who dyed his hair for him? After all, it must have not been you, since you’re busy hanging out with Jaehyun. But usually, you dyed his hair for him, saying you’re the only one who knows how to dye hair properly. Now that you look back, this concern is probably bigger than you expected.

You’ve abandoned your best friend and you knew about it but you did nothing.

“Uhm.” Jinyoung clears his throat, snapping you out of your trance. “I don’t think it’s like- like a big concern.”

“And you know I don’t like complaining either.” he stops, gulping nervously as he continues, “I just feel like we’re too far away.”

“I came home and we’re roommates but I can’t feel you here.”

“You’re so near yet so far.”

You know it will hurt. You know Jinyoung’s choice of words are already the softest he would have chosen, yet it stings. It reminds you of how ungrateful you are, leaving him for someone you have a crush on. He is telling you how he is sad, sad that he gets nothing like before. Your attention is now unavailable for him. It hurts him and now he’s projecting them in words.

Now it hurts you.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I’m demanding. But I just don’t know you anymore. I don’t know how you are, or what you ate for lunch. We’re drifting apart and it hurts me.” he continues as you stay silent, feeling the guilt eating you alive. “I know you have someone new…..yet is it so easy to leave me behind?”

Jinyoung is officially breaking apart. He feels like he’s childish, pouring his heart out but this is about him. This is him demanding you to be fair. He can’t stop you from liking Jaehyun, he can’t force you to love him back. He just wanted to remind you that he’s there. He’s there and please do something. 

“Jinyoung.” your voice cracks, slowly the tears fall on your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry I made you feel this way. I was too blinded by the newfound happiness and I forgot you. I forgot you who have constantly made me happy.”

“I’m so sorry.” you cried harder, reaching Jinyoung and hugging him. “I’m so sorry I made you feel this way.”

You feel his body shakes and you know he’s holding back from crying. You hated yourself for making Jinyoung cry. 

Jinyoung isn’t weak, no he isn’t. He’s been too strong that it breaks his limit. He wanted to let go. He wanted to let go for once and he’ll be fine. If nothing goes right after tonight, he’s done tolerating. 

A few quiet sobs and some awful jokes later, both of you are lying on Jinyoung’s bed, holding each other close. 

“Jinyoung.”

“Hm?”

“Can I sleep with you here tonight?” you ask Jinyoung, rubbing his arm. It’s been too long since you sleep in his bed and now you feel nostalgic. You’re overreacting but really, it feels too long. 

“I thought you’re going to talk to Jaehyun?” he teases, earning himself a slap on his chest. “Ow! What was that for?”

You laugh, settling yourself comfortably in his embrace. “Say Jinyoung.”

“Hm, what?”

“Do you approve Jaehyun?”

He looks down to you, questioning eyes boring into yours. You know it’s too soon, you know perhaps it’s not the best time to bring it up. But you just want to know his answer.

“For what?”

“To be my boyfriend.”

Jinyoung wakes up feeling empty, his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. You’re still sleeping in his arm yet he has this unsettling feeling inside him. Recalling your last question before you sleep, he inhales a deep breath.

Will you be happy? Will his approval make you happy?

Jaehyun is a nice guy, Jinyoung knows that. Looks aside, he has full potential to be the best boyfriend for you. Jaehyun is caring and also when he loves, he’ll love you to the fullest. It’s not a problem to approve Jaehyun, he won’t hesitate if that’s the only case.

However it’s not.

Will Jinyoung be happy with his decision? It feels like the burden has increased tremendously, from jealousy to pain in just one night. It seems like the one month is just a trial for Jinyoung, now he needs to be prepared to lose you for good.

With his fingers raking your locks, he watches you sleep soundly. This is probably the last time he watches you sleeping in his embrace. This is probably the last time he’ll see you wake up in his arms.

Lord, can you help me stop the time?

“Nope.” 

“Jaebeom-”

“Nope. I won’t let you be as stupid as you are.”

Jinyoung lifts his eyebrows, offended by Jaebeom’s statement. He’s just offering a suggestion yet Jaebeom calls him dumb? “Hey! What do you mean as stupid as I am?”

“Jinyoung.” Jaebeom sighs exaggeratedly, holding Jinyoung’s shoulder in place. “When I told you tell her, I mean tell her your feelings your dumb ass. Not just telling her how you feel when she forgot about you!”

“I’m not a dumb ass.”

“Well you look like that to me now.” It’s another evening where you went over to Jaehyun place to finish the assignment and Jaebeom has no other way than to confront Jinyoung about how weird both of you have been.

Yes, both of you have been weird. Specifically, Jinyoung.

The morning you woke up in his embrace, you didn’t notice something was off. Probably because you forgot how it felt waking up with Jinyoung but definitely, Jinyoung was different. As if he had a switch in him, he started avoiding you, keeping your conversation minimal.

You thought it’s just you but one day Jackson asked you why you were both eating separately, one person at the other end of the table, then you realised that Jinyoung had avoided you. Yes, he made it subtle and you never noticed it until someone pointed it out.

Jinyoung still let you sleep with him and still woke you up like any other morning. He just doesn’t talk as much as he did before. And you brush it off, thinking it as another awkward change that you brought upon your friendship.

“You’re not a dumb ass?” Jaebeom asks. “Y/n has been at Jaehyun’s for hours and you’re still here, like a wife waiting for her cheater husband? Oh you’re just unable to think rationally.”

“Shut up. She’s not a cheater.”

Jaebeom had enough of these awkward encounters. It seems like none of you figured this thing out and he needs his lively frat back again. “Then I suggest you do something about y/n. It’s almost eleven and she’s not home yet.”

“Like what?” Jinyoung is now irritated. He doesn’t have any control over what you’re doing and even if he wants to, he can’t. “I’m not her boyfriend.”

“And Jaehyun is not her boyfriend either. So go get her.”

“What?”

“You heard me. As the house leader, I’m ordering you to get her ass from that NCT frat and bring her home.”

“She can come home by herself. Jaehyun will walk her home.”

“Park Jinyoung.” Jaebeom grits his teeth, pulling the said man towards the door and without hesitation, throws him out of the house. “Don’t let me put up ‘No Jaehyun is allowed’ in front of the door. Go fetch her home by 12. I mean it, Park.”

Then Jaebeom slams the door shut, locking it from inside. Though Jinyoung clearly has the key, he knows Jaebeom probably locked the door using the other lock instead. So he stood outside, leaning against the wall.

What is he going to do? Knock on NCT frat and ask for you? No shit he’s not going to look like a desperate man. 

But indeed, Jaebeom is right. Jaehyun is not your boyfriend either and he has a valid reason to be worried and to go get you at his house which is only five minutes away. Yeap, valid.

“I must have gone crazy.” Jinyoung mutters as he exits the compound and starts walking on the sidewalk in a painfully slow pace. “I must’ve looked crazy too.”

Five minutes turns fifteen, courtesy of Jinyoung walking around the neighbourhood and standing like a stool against the lamp post, contemplating whether he’s going to knock on the door or not.

“Well.” he sighs, walking up the NCT house and stands nervously in front of their door. “Aite, fuck this.” he knocks, slow at first but gradually the third knock is loud, followed by fourth and fifth. He did it on purpose, he knows how boys can be. Yugyeom and Bambam can be so focused while watching Netflix that they can’t even hear any other noises.

Jinyoung fiddles with his hoodie sleeves, his heart beating nervously as he waits for someone to get the door.

“Who is- oh, Jinyoung!” Thank god, Taeyong shows up, not Lucas or Jaemin or else Jinyoung would have a hard time being less suspicious. “Why are you here?”

Now that’s another hard question? Does he simply say ‘well my roommate is here and it’s already 11.20 and why the fuck is she still here’? Or does he say ‘i’m jealous so i’m picking up my girl’? Nope. Nope.

“Uh. Is y/n here?” He hopes he doesn’t sound like a desperate man asking for his crush’s whereabouts because he feels like he’s one. “It’s- it’s 11.20 and uh Jaebeom is kinda mad? She’s not yet back.”

Taeyong takes like- 30 seconds to let the information sink in, before frantically shouting for Jaehyun. “Jaehyun! Tell y/n that Jinyoung is here to bring her home!”

An awkward silence follows him, well of course it’s awkward. All pairs of eyes are watching him from all directions, curious of why he’s here to bring her home? You have been patronising this house for like, two months now and suddenly he’s here to remind her of her curfew?

He hears you come down the stairs, shock paints your face as you see him at the door. Firstly, well since Jinyoung avoided you, you don’t know why he suddenly came to take you home. Secondly, since when do you need someone to take you home?

“Jinyoung.” you reach the door, Jaehyun trailing behind you equally as confused. “Why are you here?”

The amount of ‘why are you here’ irks him that by the time you ask him the same question, he feels like his blood is boiling. Why is it so hard to believe that he’s here to take you home? Don’t you realise what time is it already? Why are you still at Jaehyun’s? These voices inside his head are shouting at the same time and he just- can’t stop himself anymore.

“Why? I can’t come here now?” his question, as soft as he wanted to sound, didn’t come out well. It sounds plainly rude, like he’s picking a fight with you. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Not that. I’m just confused.”

“Jaebeom told me to come and get you.”

“But I can go home by myself.” you point at Jaehyun behind you, who stays silent between your conversation. “Jaehyun can walk me home.”

At this point, Jinyoung feels anger bubbling up inside him and if everyone squints really really hard, one can see that his jugular vein almost pops. All this ‘Jaehyun this and Jaehyun that’ is starting to get to him and honestly? He’s tired of listening to it.

“Can we just go home?” as much as he wants to scream at everyone, he doesn’t want to make a mess at someone’s frat. He knows how Jaebeom works hard to maintain a good relationship with other frats and how hard it is to clean after messes. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation here.”

You silently agree, bidding the boys goodbye and step out of the house. Jaehyun’s eyes follow you worriedly, as if he knows that you’d probably end up fighting with Jinyoung.

In your eyes, Jinyoung is irritated by the fact that you asked too many questions but in Jaehyun’s eyes, he recognises those emotions as anger and jealousy. He’s been asking you about your true relationship with Jinyoung, knowing that it’s impossible for one to be that close without any feeling involved. Tonight, he found out why. 

Jinyoung is in love with you.

“Taeyong.” he whispers while watching both of you getting further away from his house. “Fuck, Taeyong.”

“What?”

“I messed up.”

“What??” how come Jaehyun didn’t realise it from the start? Of course, when he first got close to you, he thought that you and Jinyoung are just best friends and given he never really gets to talk to Jinyoung, well he just didn’t think of that.

“Taeyong.” his frantic eyes find Taeyong, who is as clueless as ever. “Jinyoung loves y/n.”

The leader’s vision switches to the couple on the street, looking at them with wide eyes. “Oh fuck.”

“I don’t understand him!” you throw your hands, ruffling your hair. It’s been four days and Jinyoung avoided you like a plague, refusing to talk to you even if you cornered him every time you got him. “He’s like, really confusing.”

Jaehyun bites the apple, listening to your story intently. You have told him through texts but here you are again, ranting about how Jinyoung is the most useless communicator and it’s impossible to take the words out of him if he decided to give you cold treatment.

“So you said he’s been weird after you asked him if he approves me to be your boyfriend?” he asks again, making sure he had his point right. Just like four days ago, Jaehyun has concluded that Jinyoung indeed, has been in love with you for so long but you’re just dense to realise it. It’s been proven true, you have the audacity to ask Jinyoung about it and not feel guilty at all.

“Yeah.” you sit on the foot of Jaehyun’s bed, settling yourself comfortably. You hang out more at Jaehyun since Jinyoung looks like he’s about to become mute whenever he sees you in the house. You figured you could give him some space. “I’m so confused right now.”

Jaehyun nudges you with his foot, making you look right up to him. Jaehyun has been too comfortable with you, becoming close just after two months. He’s at that stage where he just calls you with his feet now. 

“You wanna know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think that Jinyoung is in love with you.”

“What the-” Shock is not enough to portray your feelings right now. It’s a mixture of shock, disbelief and suspicions. You don’t know if Jaehyun is playing around because right at this moment, his face shows no hint of joking. “Jaehyun! It’s not funny!”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, annoyed with your ignorance. You’re the most clueless person he ever knows, and he knows Mark Lee! “Girl, listen to me.”

“What did Jinyoung say when you said I texted you?”

“He said, ‘so?’”

“And what did he say when you said you like me?”

“Is this another session to feed your ego?” you don’t trust Jaehyun, he has a lot up in his sleeves and you just knew him for two months. “I fed your ego too much, don’t you think so?”

“Shut up and answer me. What did he say?”

You roll your eyes. “He said nothing. Why are we doing this?”

“What did he reply when you ask about me being your boyfriend?”

“He didn’t reply. God, I don’t know where you are going with this conversation.”

Jaehyun takes another bite of his apple, munching while talking at the same time. “You see, he didn’t reply when you told him you like me. That’s fine, maybe he didn’t care. But when you ask him about me being your boyfriend, why didn’t he answer right away?”

“Well-”

“Because he doesn’t want to! Come on, Jinyoung can’t possibly tell you no right? You’d be too nosy and asked why.”

“Hey!”

“So what I think is, he likes you.” Jaehyun concludes, snapping his fingers in triumph. “Now the real question is, do you like him back?”

You shut up, eyes running away from Jaehyun’s. You don’t know, well you have no idea. You never thought about liking Jinyoung because you don’t want to risk your friendship. It might have crossed your mind a few times but you ignored the curiosity, you figured it’s the best to stay being friends.

Not that you don’t want to invest your feelings in Jinyoung, you’re just too afraid that it will backfire you. You don’t like rejection and you certainly don’t want to become awkward afterward.

“I don’t know.” you answer truthfully because really, you don’t know.

“Then find it out.”

You close the door to your room, putting down your bag on the floor and sit down on your bed. Jinyoung is at his study table, unmoved.

“How long are you going to give me cold shoulders, Jinyoung?” you ask, your feet kicking the air. You know he’s listening, even if he has his earphones in. That’s just Jinyoung style, to wear earphones so that no one bothers him, especially Jackson. Whenever Jackson comes over, he’d retreat when he sees Jinyoung stuffing them in his ears. “I know you can hear me, Jinyoung.”

“Let’s not fight anymore.” you look down, suddenly you feel sad. You feel like you’re losing Jinyoung. Is this what Jinyoung feels before? So near yet so far?

“It’s been hard without you, Jinyoung.” 

“The mornings are extremely cold without your laugh and the lunch is plain without you cracking up lame jokes. Dinner is boring because you avoided me and night…the nights are even colder without your hugs.”

“I know you’d say, ‘so what? You have Jaehyun so go and ask him to eat with you, crack up lame jokes and give you hugs.’ but I don’t want Jaehyun. I want you.”

Jinyoung has stopped writing, listening to you intently. You noticed this, which is why you continue, “Jaehyun told me that he thinks you like me.”

You didn’t realise it but Jinyoung stiffens at the mention of his crush on you, catching him off guard. He knows that someone will eventually tell you about this but he definitely didn’t think of Jaehyun of all people.

“I don’t know if it’s true. Jaehyun isn’t exactly the best fortune teller so I definitely can’t gamble with his words.”

“I just want you to know that you’re extremely important in my life. I never thought of putting you second just because I found someone new. In fact, I decided that I’ll stay as friends with Jaehyun, I don’t find him that attractive anymore.”

You stand up and walk over to his side, sitting on his bed just beside him, forcing him to face you. “So if that’s the case, can you please stop being jealous now? I don’t have anything to do with Jaehyun. We are not dating and can I please have my Jinyoung back?”

Jinyoung is frowning, his eyes scan you from the top to the bottom. “You don’t find him attractive anymore? Really?”

“Well-” you grin, crinkling your nose up playfully. “He’s still handsome. I can’t deny that.”

You feel more at ease, now that you’ve told Jinyoung what you’ve been wanting to tell him. It feels lighter, your brain and your heart. You hated the days where Jinyoung ignored you and you’re left imagining what you would do without him in your life. The thought alone scares you, the fact that you’ve been so comfortable with Jinyoung beside you and you never thought he’ll leave you for someone else someday.

“So you still like him.” Jinyoung confirms and turns around to his note again, picking up his pen. 

You scream, pulling him away from his work and tugs him nearer, trying to have all his attention on you. Jinyoung struggles to escape from your grips but fails miserably, laughing along the way. You join him, laughing together as you bring him nearer.

“Let me go, oh god. Since when you’re so strong?” he wrestles his way out of your grip again, hoisting you up and throws you on the bed easily. “Did you practise lifting Jaehyun’s dumbbells?”

“Yeah, I went there to exercise.” you reply deadpanned and laugh when Jinyoung tickles you as a revenge.

“Hey.” you call out, trying to get his attention again. Jinyoung’s arms have you caged, he’s on top of you while you lie comfortably on his bed. “Is it true?”

“What is?” Jinyoung’s eyes rake you face up and down, like how his thoughts are running wild inside his brain. He doesn’t know what to do, does he confess now? Does he confirm that it’s true? Does it mean you’ll be his? Can he do that? Can he kiss you?

“Is it true that you like me?” just as Jinyoung, you’re nervous. You’re conflicted. What if he doesn’t actually like you? What is Jaehyun really bad at guessing? You’re not surprised, nothing surprises you about Jaehyun anymore.

“What if it’s true?” 

“I’d be so happy.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been thinking for a while and I don’t think i can ever end up with someone else other than you.”

“Oh yeah?” Jinyoung’s heart stops at your confession, then beats harder as he feels his adrenaline pumping his blood faster. “Can I kiss you now?”

You shake your head, watching Jinyoung’s eyes grow and a cute frown appears on his face. You wanted to laugh but you held back, looking straight into his eyes.

“Why not?”

“You haven’t said you like me.”

“Oh my god.” he curses, turning away from you when he feels his face grows hotter. “Fuck- fine. I like you. Are you satisfied?”

You laugh, nodding furiously. Jinyoung doesn’t waste any more seconds, diving right then to press his plump lips to yours, taking the perfect shape of your lips in his. 

Finally. His mind says, Fucking finally.

“God. finally.” he mutters to himself, somewhat trying to convince himself that indeed, he’s kissing you. “Oh god.”

“Do you know how long I have been dying to kiss you?” he reaches down to press another kiss on your temple, another on your cheeks, nose and your chin, then pressing the last one on your lips once again.

You chuckle under him, pressing your palms on his chest to hold him. “How long?”

“Too long, I’ve forgotten already.” his reply earns another laugh from you. 

Jinyoung moves to lie beside you, watching you play with the string of his hoodie. It’s funny how time works. About fifteen minutes ago you’re sitting on your bed, trying to fix things up and now you’re lying beside him after he kissed you breathless.

“I thought you’re dating Jaehyun.” he did. He really thought that after what happened, you’d hate him. “I hated myself for screaming at you.”

A strand of his hair falls on his forehead and you reach to swipe it away, pushing his locks behind. “Yeah, you’re quite rude.”

“Very rude.”

“I thought our friendship is ending.” you confess, eyes on his chest instead of his face. “I thought it’s the end of us. That you got fed up with me.”

“Then it turns out that you’re just a jealous boy.”

Jinyoung pushes your chin up, making you face him. “Just a jealous boy? You didn’t know how jealous I am when everything is about Jaehyun! Have you ever heard I talk about other girls? No right? See who’s rude now?”

Another laugh escapes you and you caress his face, calming him down. “I didn’t know, okay. I thought you were fine with it.”

“Yeah right.”

“But we’re here now, right? You don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“Really?” Jinyoung’s finger finds your lock, playing with the strand. “Do you like me too?”

You really want to make him suffer a bit. Just a bit since he’s being a pain in the ass for ignoring you for one week straight. 

“Hmm, I need to think about that again.” you grin, sending Jinyoung into a series of screams.

“What the- out!” he pushes you off his bed with you hanging onto him while your laugh fills the room. “Get out of my bed!”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you! Did you just play me?”

“Is my feeling that easy?”

“Get out of my bed!”

“Jinyoung!”

“Out!”

You don’t know about your feelings, just yet. But there’s one thing for sure. You love Jinyoung’s kisses. You can deal with that. But his petty ass? That calls for a serious mental discussion.

Copyright © 2020 jjpmoans. All rights reserved

[ Writings ]

[staticscreenwriting]

The loneliest time of the year || Part two

Part 2 of 4

Summary: With a broken heart and the fear of having failed as a father, Frankie returns to his parents house for Christmas. What is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year feels quite lonely. Though when an old friend shows up unexpectedly with her young son in tow, Frankie’s Christmas seems to gain a little more happiness. Can they help each other fight the ghosts of their pasts and overcome their fears ?

A/N: This is part of my 12 days of Christmas / Advent special. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Four messed up pies

By the morning of December 9th a heavy blanket of snow rests upon the world like a tick coat of marshmallow fluff. 

A restlessness surges through Frankie as he turns from his left to his right to his back then repeats the process all over again. He kicks away the blankets then pulls them back. Sleep doesn’t come easy these days. In fact sleep hasn’t come easy in a while. It’s a price you have to pay for leading the life he leads, has led. For doing the job he did. You see things, bad things, and they stay with you. Not always but in the quiet moments they creep back into your mind and all you can do is stare and hope they fade again soon. Fill your brain with other things. Occupy your mind.

It’s moments like these that his fingers are twitching and his body is aching for release. For something to numb his mind. Help him forget. 

There aren’t a lot of things that Frankie is proud of. In fact he can count them on one hand. One of them is his ability to fly. He's a damn good pilot … most of the time. (He is when someone doesn’t force him to navigate an overloaded plane across the Andes). He’s proud of Rosie. Despite his flaws and shortcomings he managed to create something so utterly perfect, that’s something to be proud of. And the. There’s the little coin in the pocket of his jacket. The one he fumbles with whenever he’s anxious or stressed. It’s gold and smooth and it proudly displays a big number 10 in the middle of a triangle on the front of the coin.

10 months. That’s a proud achievement. 

It could be more. It should be more! He really tried but after coming home from Colombia, one man less than they went in, after his girlfriend broke up with him and took Rosie with her. After everything. He needed the psi to stop. Just for one goddamn minute. He felt immediate regret wash over him when he woke up the next morning. Called Pope. Entered a 12 step program.

10 months and he feels better. He likes himself more now. But in those 10 months the voices have gotten louder, the images clearer, his heart feels heavier. 

With sleep being so far out of reach, he kicks off the blanket and drags his body out of bed. The smell of coffee hits his nose as soon as he steps out of his room, it drifts from the kitchen all the way up the stairs. 

His parents are sitting by the kitchen counter, mom holding onto a big steaming mug of coffee while his dad is deeply invested in the morning. Paper, glasses perched low on his nose. This is home, it sends him straight back to his childhood. If only, he thinks, if only he could provide this sense of warmth and domesticity for his own child. 

A knock on the front door shakes him from his thoughts. As he swings it open, a sharp sting of cold winter air whips at him, nips at his nose, his ears and his bare feet.

“Frankie hey, oh sorry did I wake you?”

(Y/N) is once again bundled up in layers of cozy clothes, keeping her warm and sheltered from the harsh weather. She looks cute. Absolutely fucking adorable. But in that moment, he doesn’t really notice that. Doesn’t notice Leo standing behind her either. His entire attention rests on the steaming pie she holds in her hands. 

“You made a pie?”

“She made 4.” Leo speaks up, his voice dripping with irritation and annoyance. 

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus, dude!”

Frankie regards the exchange with a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. There’s something so distinctly familiar in the way she interacts with her son, so unapologetically her. The way she’s always been. But now grown up entirely. A mother. 

“Why did you make 4 pies?” He asks, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Well I didn’t plan on making 4. The first one I mistook salt for sugar so you can imagine how it tasted. The second one I put way too much sugar in, might’ve been trying to compensate for my mistake with the first one but yeah that one did end up in the trash as well. The third … well I got pretty invested in an episode of unsolved mysteries and forgot it was in the oven so it turned out um — “

“Black. It was burned to a crisp.” Leo chimes up again, this time more amused than annoyed by his mother’s baking escapades.

“Yeah. It burned. But number 4 is looking pretty good.”

She looks up at Frankie with a smile so radiant it rivals the sun reflecting on the snowy ground. Pride shines in her eyes as she holds the pie towards him.

“Did you make me a pie?”

“Not exactly. It’s mostly for your folks. They agreed to watch this one while I got shopping for his Christmas presents.” (Y/N) explains, her tumb motioning towards the little boy over her shoulder. “This is a thank you to them for being literal angels. “

“Oh man you wouldn’t be saying that if you had to live with them growing up. I can’t tell you how many times dad unplugged my console while I was in the middle of a game.”

It’s a joke, of course it is. He really lucked out in the parents department and he’s not too proud or too shy to admit it. Maybe, he thinks, the good parent gene might’ve skipped a generation with him. His ex will surely agree with that statement. 

“Hey uh — you mind having some company while shopping ?”

“You wanna go shopping for toys?”

“I need to get some presents for my daughter.”

“Oh that’s right, you have a kid too. “

He doesn’t blame her for not remembering. He doesn’t strike people as the father type. And really, he hasn’t seen his little one in quite some time.doesn’t see her during the entire Christmas time. Is he really much of a father anyway?

“Sure yeah! I’d love some company.”

Maybe, Frankie thinks, this will help him drown out the voice. Those that tell him bad thoughts, whisper mean things. Maybe it will help him filter out the images. The blood. The suffering.

Frankie was never overly fond of the extreme commercialization of what should be a peaceful family holiday. But maybe this year he is,a little bit at least. Because those bright colors, the loud noises, the crowds, the ads assaulting you from every corner, that all will help drown out the dark. At least for a moment. 

“Alright lemme just get changed real quick.”

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Five days a week

“What the fuck is this?”

“It’s uh … it’s a … a game?”

“A game where you have to catch a piece of … poop.”

A wave of laughter tumbles from (Y/N)’s lips as Frankie holds up the brightly colored box, proudly displaying a drawing of a smiling turd. 

“It’s so dumb. And that says a lot coming from me, I can appreciate a good fart joke. But this is …. this is just dumb. “

“ It's what the kids these days want. I guess …”

“Would you buy this for Leo?”

“Absolutely not,” (Y/N) replies before taking the box from his hand and placing it back on the shelf between several more games of a similar kind. “But he wouldn’t like it anyway. Leo likes books and animals and fantasy movies. He’s so smart sometimes I wonder where he got it from.”

“You kidding me?” Frankie exclaims, “you’re so smart and if I remember correctly, you always carried around books when you were younger.”

(Y/N) just shrugs at his words though Frankie can’t make out a faint blush of red dusting her cheeks. “Leo is such an easy kid, always has been. Sometimes I wonder if that’s really the way he is or if he just tries to be that way because of me. Because he knows that I have to do all the parenting by myself and he feels he’s responsible for helping me along.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re doing good with him. Least you know what to get him for Christmas, what he cares about, what he’s interested in.”

His heart feels so heavy. His words seem to weigh down on his tongue like a stack of bricks. To admit your own failures to yourself is one thing, to admit them to someone else is quite another story.

“What do you mean ?”

“I — I have no idea what to get for Rosie. I don’t even know when I’ll see her next. She stays with her mom 5 days a week. I only get her on the weekends and even then her mom often finds a reason not to let her stay. Special occasions? I don’t get to spend those with her. Bet she doesn’t even recognize me anymore next time. She’s just a baby …”

This can’t be happening. He’s not going to start crying in the middle of a Toys R Us like a hyperactive toddler on a temper tantrum. Not in front of a beautiful girl who has been nothing but kind to him. This can’t be happening.

(Y/N)’s hand settles on his arm with a gentle touch. Almost as if she’s afraid he’ll break any minute now. And honestly, he might.

“Tell me about Rosie. I know she means the world to you and that’s all that matters Frankie. You’re trying. You’re trying so hard and I’m sure there’s lots about her that you know that no one else does. She’s your baby too. So tell me about her and we’ll figure out what to get her.”

And so they sit down on a swing set, one that’s definitely not meant for adults to sit on and have deep discussions, and Frankie starts talking. Once he starts it’s like a cork has been popped. It pours out of him, all of his pride and admiration and love for Rosie. All that has been brewing for so long now bubbles over. 

“... and she, she loves cuddling onto my chest and just listens to me. She doesn’t understand a word but she looks at me with her big beautiful eyes and it feels like I’m telling her all the biggest secrets of the universe the way she looks at me. Sometimes I sing and she — she falls asleep immediately.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Nah I think it's because my rendition of Eric Clapton is just real bad and boring.”

Their laughter is quiet, almost as if they are afraid of breaking the spell of this moment. Sometimes you find yourself at your most vulnerable during the big moments of your life and sometimes you do in the middle of a Toys R Us, sitting on a swingest that just barely holds your weight while a plastic giraffe looks over your shoulder and Kacey Musgrave’s rendition of “I’ll be home for Christmas” plays over the same overhead speakers that have been installed there in 1983.

“I just don’t want to disappoint her.”

 He’s already disappointing himself and that hurts bad enough.

“Frankie, let me be honest with you. She’s a baby, she’s not gonna care what you get for her. This is more about you than her. Whatever you get she’s gonna like it. Babies are easy to please, gets harder the older they get. We’ll find something cute for her but um … I think you should call her.”

“She’s a baby, she doesn’t have a phone yet.”

“ Really? I had Leo on a newborn data plan the second he popped out.”

Frankie raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“I was joking you dingus. Of course you’re gonna call her mom. There’s this thing, I don’t know if you’ve heard about it, it’s called FaceTime. You can actually see ther person on the other side. “ 

“ Very funny. I know what facetime is … “ 

“ Then call them. You said it yourself, the little one doesn’t understand a word of what you’re saying but that doesn’t matter. You’re there. You’re showing interest and taking initiative. It shows you care. And I think seeing her might be good for you too, even if it’s not in person.” 

“ You know, that sounds like a pretty good plan. “ 

“ Yeah? “ she asks him, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, in her voice, in her entire being.

“ Yeah. “ 

“ Alright! Now let’s go find some presents for the little princess. May I suggest a cellphone? “ 

This time her laughter isn’t quite. It’s loud and radiant and the way her own joke amuses herself, is so goddamn endearing to Frankie. 

“ Ah shut up. “ he replies though his voice too is dipped in amusement as he throws his arm around her shoulders and they walk down the shiny linoleum floor, past dolls and teddy bears and Star Wars action figures.

And it feels right. Like the fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place. 

And that feeling is damn scary.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me: Six-hour flights.

The floor of (Y/N)’s living room is covered in wrapping paper. Reds and greens and silvers and golds hide what once was a nice dark cherry wood floor. There are bows and ribbons and gift tags in all shapes and sizes and colors. 

“ Looks like Santa’s workshop in here, “ Frankie exclaims as he drops down on the floor next to her. All the presents they’ve purchased, neatly lined up in front of them, ready to be wrapped. Though to be fair, Frankie is quite sure he’s not gonna do a lot of wrapping himself. Sometimes you gotta admit defeat. And he ain’t too proud to admit that he is a horrible, horrible wrapper. 

“ Yeah, I know I’m making a big fuss over things like this. Wrapping and the tree and stuff like that. I just — I don’t know it just makes me happy when I see that my actions put a smile on the faces of the people I love. “ 

“ Oh I wasn't judging. It’s sweet. “ 

For a while they stay in comfortable silence. Just them and the radio playing old Christmas songs. (Y/N)’s hands do quick work on the presents, Santa’s elves would be jealous. 

It’s the first time in a long time, that silence doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable. That it doesn’t open up the gates for the voices to grow louder and the bad images to consume his head. No, this silence feels comfortable. It’s soft and warm. It’s tinted in golds and reds. 

Maybe, he thinks, maybe seeking the company of someone who exudes joy and warmth does him good. Someone who knows him but not the bad. Never the bad. The faults, yes, the fears even, but not the blood that stains his hands or the vices he so desperately tries to fight.

“ What was the best Christmas present you ever got? “ (Y/N) speaks up as she glides a pair of scissors along the ribbon turning it into shiny curls. 

“ Millennium Falcon playset.” 

“ You and a million other little boys. “ 

“True. What can I say, I was easily pleased. What was yours ?”

(Y/N) thinks for a moment before a wistful smile settles on her face. 

“My bubblegum pink roller skates.”

“Oh, I remember those!”

And he did. Squeaky pink roller skates with 4 pastel blue wheels and glittery silver laces.

“I remember the following summer all you did was skate up and down the street.  “

“Yeeeah but that wasn’t entirely because of the skates.”

Frankie combs his hair from his face, he really needs to get it cut, and looks at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Another chuckle falls from (Y/N) ‘s lips. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

“ Notice what?”

“That I had the biggest crush on you.”

Frankie is grateful for the fact that he’s not taking a sip of his drink right then, it surely would’ve ended in a spit-take. He was a nerdy kid, a nerdy teenager too. Kinda shy, a little lost. He wasn’t usually the boy that girls fancied.

“Me? You had a crush on me? “

It doesn’t make sense, not really. She was the one that was fascinating and exciting. Though he didn’t think of her that way when they were kids, he knew she was beautiful even back then. He hadn’t been interested in her romantically because she was a few years younger but that didn’t meanie didn’t realize the magic she held.

“Yes, you. You were cool, Frankie. You were older and you knew stuff about cars and planes and you could name every Star Wars spaceship and you had a skateboard. “

“I was a horrible skater.”

“Sure but it wasn’t so much about the skating as it was about the aesthetic. You were cool and you still are cool”

Frankie shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. She thought he was cool, still does. No one ever thought he was cool. He isn’t a smooth talker like Pope and even he himself can admit that look wise he isn’t even playing in the same league as Will and Benny. But if (Y/N) thinks he’s cool that must mean something. Right ?

“You were the one traveling all over the world with your dad and you thought I was cool?”

She sets down the scissors, let’s her hands rest on her lap. There’s a sense of nervousness exuding from her now. Like the words she wants to speak are resting on the tip of her tongue and yet they are so difficult to speak.

“Maybe that was part of it too. I never had a real home. Nothing stable at least. Except for my grandparents’ house. This was home and you were, you are, forever entwined with my idea of home. Sometimes I missed this place so much that I’d sit in my room and my little brain would think of all the fun adventures we could go on if only I was old enough to hop on a 6 hour flight by myself. I’d ask grandma about you every time I called and she always told me what trouble you got into.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah and that only made you more exciting in my eyes. Then she’d offer to let me speak to you but I was too chicken shit to do it. Thought you might look right through my facade and realize how into you I was.”

“I was so oblivious, I can assure you I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Well … it’s too late now.”

“I guess so. Just — next time you fall in love with me let me know, alright.”

Her laugh rings through the room like bells, like songs, like whispers of a childhood magic long forgotten.

“That only sounds fair. It’s a deal.”

“Good, now …. would you mind wrapping my gifts for Rosie?”

“Nope, but in return would you come see Leo’s play with me next week? My dad can’t come and I think Leo would like to have some more people there that support him. And he seems to think you’re cool so …”

“Huh guess if you both think so it must be true.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Of course I’ll come. “

She smiles and it sends a weird flicker through him. Like fire, like electricity. 

“ Now let me teach you how to curl the ribbon properly.”

[off-in-the-moors]

Joseph Kavinsky analysis, part 2

aka no voice and no dream pack

Warnings: spoilers for the whole Raven Cycle, mentions of: drug-use, abuse, death, s*cid, xenophobia

Part 1 // Part 2

Before starting, I wanted to thank for likes and support, not only on part 1 but also on my other posts. I was writing this more for the catharsis, after months of seeing and not really speaking about a lot of stuff. It’s nice to know, somebody read it. Some say, Kavinsky is their comfort character and, well, he will stay with me for a very long time. But enough of that. Let's talk about the point of view, xenophobia and the Dream Pack.

PoV

The running motif in TRC is, all antagonists get PoVs. No matter if they appear in one book (like Whelk) or reoccur (like the Greenmatles). The reader gets multiple chapters with their backstories, internal thoughts and goals. This move by the author is a double-edged sword, on one hand we get a better understanding of them but on the other, by knowing them better they become less effective antagonists and the air of mystery and surprise of what they're up-to/what they know is lost. E.g. In TDT we are first told about Colin Greenmatle and what is he capable of, making him a good threat for our main characters. But when we finally meet him in BLLB, with his attitude and scenes like dissing Ronan's Latin grammar or making cheese crackers while his wife is held at gun-point, he becomes more of a comedic antagonist than a villain to fear.

But here's the thing: I already lied to you. In TRC, all antagonists get PoVs, except for Kavinsky. It's a odd exception from the rule, considering Gray Man in TDT and The Wasp Demon in The Raven King, also got PoVs. But why? There are two things to look at. One I already mentioned. By giving a character PoV, the reader gets better understanding of them. By not giving Kavinsky one, Margaret didn't give anything to make K or his actions clear or understandable. By not knowing his motivations, K is left to pure interpretations, but how the reader will do it mostly will be influenced by his demonetization. Of course, not everybody will just accept what the book tells them without thinking for themselves but most fans don't.

"Bang", he said softly, withdrawing the fake gun. "See you on the street."

Alone, this single line can be interpreted in many different ways. Is it K being angry and threatening Ronan? Or maybe Joseph breaking inside because he was proofen, he really has no one? It all depends on the reader.

Second, when asked on her tumblr, if she'll ever write anything from K's pov (in 2015, before The Raven King was published), M*ggie said she won't, because: she already explored that type of character ("the thoughts and motivations of a powerful, suicidal, creative person with few inhibitions") in Sinner (2014, spin-off/companion book of her older series, The Wolves of Mercy Falls, 2009-2011 for the main three) with Cole St. Clair; that writing through PoV of such character is emotionally and mentally draining for her (which is understandable); and even if she wanted to explore it again in the future, she would through a different character's lenses than K's.

Let's talk about St. Clair.

The characters of Cole and Kavinsky have some similarities: both are drug addicts, who are rich.

That's where they end.

Cole was a famous musician, having the stereotypical rock-star life (drugs, alcohol and sleeping with fans included) with good family relationships, while K was a son of a mobster who tried to kill him and a mother who was a drug-addict herself. While their perspectives would have similarities, there is also other problems. Cole St. Clair already got PoVs in his series and a stand-alone book, Joseph Kavinsky got nothing and will get nothing. Cole had friends that cared for him and helped him, Joseph Kavinsky had his Dream Pack (which whom we don't know what type of relation he had) and his customers who we can safely say, only cared for what he can provide them with, he tried to befriend or start a relation with Ronan who rejected even the idea of it and no one even reached out to him. Cole got his happy ending and (hinted at) a girl he loved, K got rejected by everyone and committed public suicide. (Now, I heard a opinion that K didn't commit suicide, because the dragon killed him. Here is the thing, K could move out of the way multiple times, even Ronan shouted to him to move. But he didn't. He watched the dragon fly towards him and just said "The world is a nightmare.". He choose death.)

People wanted K's PoV, because they wanted to know, what pushed him to do what he did in TDT. But, in my opinion, even if M*ggie gave K pov, she would use it to further demonize him than to make the reader understand him more. She already did write a whole post exaggerating and straw-manning the canon, just to also say "Kavinsky has a very logical backstory that leads him to this place". A backstory we as the reader never truly see and one she forgot to write into her book. At the end, she truly cared only about Ronan.

Xenophobia

The Raven Cycle is a very flawed and problematic series, there are already many other posts taking about racism, misogyny, lack of diversity and many other issues with it, but in regards to Kavinsky, I'll only touch on the xenophobia. (I could talk also about portray of metal-illness, but I'm not the person to talk about it and I would feel comfortable with it.)

Kavinsky is a stereotype of a Slavic person, one we see in American media since the Cold War, especially in 80s movies. The Evil Russian trope. The son of the mobster, drug-addict, forger who can get you anything even illegal stuff, a thief.

When describing Kavinsky, one of the things Ronan mentions is: "refugee's face, hollowed-eyed and innocent". One could argue, "refugee" has many meanings, but boiling it down, is a person who came to the country to escape and seek a refuge. Many people moved to America to find a better life, in the believe of the American Dream, and many of them where driven to do that, especially from ex-Eastern Bloc countries. Kavinsky's Bulgarian, unknown if an immigrant himself or a son of immigrants, but the point still stands.

About Blue’s comment "import from somewhere else" I don't need to say much. First, obvious: You don't import people, only foreign goods, like cars. Second: this shows, he is "the other" in the eyes of the characters.

There is more to it, then just the physical description. We need to look at the outfit he wears. White tank top, white sunglasses, a small earring in one ear and a gold chain around his neck. This gives two images: one of a typical douche-bag, party asshole and the rich kid; the second of a Slavic stereotype, especially of a Russian criminal. If Margaret wanted to make K even bigger stereotype, she would dress him like a dress/gopnik, in a tracksuit.

The thing is: M*ggie could had saved the situation if she had subverted the stereotypes. E.g. K didn't wanting anything to do with the crime live, his family was forced into by circumstances or K being the guy to get stuff from, but he isn't doing it for any gain.

The truth is, K being Bulgarian doesn't add anything to his character, except for xenophobia. (Personally, I tried to find where the surname "Kavinsky" came from. It is Slavic, that much I can tell you for sure, but the rest is my speculation and searching. My best guesses are: Russian (it appears most commonly in Russian, after USA and a use in Russia set novel) or Polish (because it has uncanny simulates to the surname "Kawiński", if it was anglicized like e.g. "Kamiński" into "Kaminsky"). This isn't a common surname and with Peter from the To All the Boys trilogy and the musician, it's hard to find any information.)

But for now, K's portray is one of the many issues.

The Dream Pack or the lack of it

The Dream Pack is the unofficial name for K's group, with whom he parties and races (the canon name is "Kavinsky's Pack of Dogs" which is ugh). They're unfortunately, a non-characters. It's bolt to even call them background characters. Their portray, or again, lack of it, leaves them as props, their only role is to be K's followers and to show K as a leader on a equal ground as Gansey. We're lead to believe, they are like Kavinsky, yet another raven boys, and to make are main characters so “not like the other raven boys”. Problem rises in connection to the previous point, out of four members, only one has an English surname.

Prokopenko is a Ukrainian surname and for his description, we get "ears like wingnuts", "crooked shoulders" and his voice as "milky with drugs". It's said he had "recently attained official crony status", and was noted being in close desecrate to K for a while. Later we discover Proko is a forgery, a dream creature like Matthew and Aurora. It's heavily implied the real Prokopenko is dead, but if K had something to do with it, is unknown. He is the only character to "chortle", which Margaret said she hates and also "fratty boys and the chortling men they turn into". From this we can deduce, that not only the Dream Pack and people at K's parties but all raven boys (with the exception of the main characters) were writen like this on purpose as the personification of everything M*ggie hates. We are also informed, he drives a Golf.

Skov, who according to a deleted scene, full name is Blake Skovron, is polish (or at least anglicized version of it). In said deleted scene he's described as "major asshole, minor bigot" (unfortunately I couldn't find it to confirm it). The only canon stuff about him is: he drives a RX-7 (Mazda RX-7).

Jiang is Chinese, making him one of three canon Asian characters we see in the series (not counting Henry's father, because he's just mentioned, same goes for the Vancouver crowd). Like Proko, his role is a little bigger. In the Raven King, after Ronan finally returns to school after a long time of skipping, he tells him: "Hey, man, I thought you'd died". Ronan doesn't respond, but tells the reader he doesn't want to see Jiang outside of his car, racing. The only other thing we know about him: he drives a Supra (Toyota Supra).

Swan is the only one with an English name, but all we know about him is: he drives Volkswagen Golf, one that matches Proko's.

(For future writers: what car a character drives, isn't a personality trait.)

With the already minimal diversity, this shows the non-Americans as the antagonists or at least "the worst". On the opposite side, we have our main characters. Richard Campbell Gansey III, who has the whitest and British name I ever saw; Adam Parrish, born and raised in Henrietta, Virginia; Ronan Lynch, son of a Irish immigrant, whose Irish identity starts and ends on tit-bits; Blue Sargent, who is half-tree and ambiguous, but was drawn as white by the author multiple times (Yes, I am aware of the Instagram post, but Margaret herself said, she isn't confirming anything that isn't already written in her books. She couldn't even confirm Adam's hair color and made a joke out of it.) The only exception is Noah Czerny, whose surname is Slavic (probably Czech), but this bares no effect on his character.

The Dream Pack are the whole communities babies, created by head-canons and fanons, their relations with Kavinsky and themselves are explored, who they are as people, their appearance, their interests... This is beautiful how many different versions and interpretations of non-existing characters is there. (I, myself also made a version for a rewrite, based partly on the fanon.)

But at the end of the day, the fans did the author's job of creating believe friend group and in the end, their only function was to show, Kavinsky is a king, just like Gansey.

[lilyharvord]

The Chain (Part 8)

Hello! I’ve returned with a new part!! Sorry this took so long to get out, but I had a hard time with the muse for this story. There are some key things that happen in this chapter that I had to get right for later in the story though. I think I got them all, so ENJOY! 

Find the rest of the parts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

tag list: @delilahlbard, @king-maven-calore, @thatoddgirl777, @elliekratzzz, @evangelineartemiasamos, @evangeline-of-montfort, @scxrletguardsdawn, @freaky-freiday, @petergrantkavinsky, @kuwei, @whatsup-gorls, @katiemoore (here ya go ((: thank you for your interest),  @redqueenetwork(let me know if you want a tag and I’ll add you to the list ((: )

(/Cal/)

I wonder if I will ever stop getting that horrible déjà vu, stomach sinking feeling every time something happens, or if I will just get used to reliving these years. Every moment feels like a knife digging into a wound that spills more blood every time though. At least I’m the one bleeding this time. There are far worse people who will bleed later. 

Even a day spent away from this place feels like an eternity. Every second I waited for something to go wrong, for there to be an obvious deviation from what I can remember. Everything flows perfectly though, leaving me with the uneasy feeling that all of this was just too easy. If there is anything I’ve learned my first time living this, it’s never this easy.

Pacing the dimly lit hallways to my rooms, I feel like I’m looking over my shoulder and around every corner, expecting Elara to be stalking me. Expecting the fluttering of her skirts and the sound of her voice, honey sweet and icy as she says my name. I never did forget the sound of it. 

The safety my room offers is fake though. The cameras are there; I know they are. Or at least, I think they are. I need to bring Mare in here to see if she can sense them. I had turned everything over looking for them, but hadn’t found anything. They could be very carefully hidden though. Closing the door and leaning against it, I take the crown off my head. I forgot how heavy it was, how much it weighed me down. It had been a comfort once upon a time, but I’ve been a man without a crown too long. I don’t need it as armor anymore. It is a weight around my ankles pulling me deeper. I’m terrified of drowning because of it. The only person who could pull me out can’t though. 

The note is waiting for me on my bed, tucked into the folded edge of the sheets.  A Scarlet Guard tactic I had been witness to multiple times. Sometimes, when we stayed in the States, Mare and I would come back from dinner or lunch and there would be a note waiting for her. Tucked into the folds of the sheets. 

This one is not from anyone in the Scarlet Guard. It’s written in Mare’s scratchy handwriting. I tuck it into my jacket pocket and disappear into the closet to read it.

My rooms. 12:30 tonight, don’t be late, we’ll have ten minutes. Take the tunnels. 

My brow raises as I read, before I burn the note to a crisp in my palm. I hadn’t been able to see her for days while I had been at an assembly with my father. I’d kept my ear to the ground about her though. I had half a mind to visit Julian and ask about her. That might give something away though. I can’t risk that. 

What news does she have? It can’t be about Maven. There’s been no word from Maven or Elara, and although I had been careful to avoid prodding too much, I never got anything out of my brother. He was still the carefully masked boy I remembered. Even when we were alone in my rooms he never dropped his mask like he had the day Mare arrived in the palace. I wonder if that slip is the only one I will ever see. He is studying me as much as I am studying him though. Every time I speak with him, I worry that I’ll make a mistake that he will pounce on without me knowing. I talk less and less around him, and I know he notices. I fear our conversations, no matter what form they come in. 

Opening an empty box, I dump the ashes of Mare’s note inside before turning and stripping my jacket off. My door creeks open, and I turn toward the sound. Near silent steps make my heart pound. The light is on in the closet, whoever just entered will have an easy time finding me. 

Edging toward the doorway, I glance out, only to see Maven’s form fold into his usual chair by the window. It’s as if I’ve summoned him from the folds of the shadows. 

It’s late and I have to meet Mare in two hours. We can’t play a game that fast, not if he wants to chat like he always does. I edge out of the closet and his eyes catch sight of my refection in the widow. He drapes an arm over the chair as he turns to look at me and gives me a smile. “I heard you almost gave father heart palpitations this morning when you questioned one of our generals.” 

I purse my lips. News travels faster than I remember here. Shrugging, I cross the room to sink into my chair as well. “There’s nothing wrong with asking in-depth questions.” 

“Since when are you asking questions about missing regiments though?” He tilts his head to the side as he speaks. The warm light dances on his cheek bones. A boy playing in the light, when he prefers the shadows. 

Glancing out the window at the moonless night, I shrug, hiding my discomfort at the thought. “Our people are restless. I noticed a discrepancy. We can’t make mistakes right now.” 

“So a group of Red soldiers goes missing and all the sudden you are digging in the mud for answers about missing taxes, and security protocols in the villages?” Maven huffs at that and slowly begins setting up his side of the table.

I glance down at my own pieces, marveling at the irony of this moment. There are two games of chess starting, one with words and intentions, and another with pieces. “Again, there is nothing wrong with looking into the wellbeing of our people.” 

His eyes dart up to me. “Is this about Mare?”

My stomach curls at how quickly he cuts to the bone of my decisions. He’d always danced around questions like that, never outright asking. Had my digging been too intensive? It’s not like I was stepping on his toes or anything yet. But maybe I was. He was supposed to be the one Mare trusted to change things, not me. I was the one who never understood her ideals.

I had asked about the regiment because I wanted to know how they were finding the new bloods though. I wanted to know how I could find them first and shuttle them to safety. Mare and I hadn’t saved many lives in our time with the Guard. I want to at least try and remedy that. 

“She got me thinking.” I finally admit, as I sit back in my chair to watch his expression. He glances down at my pieces that I haven’t moved yet before picking up his queen piece and turning it over in his fingers. 

You could have been my Red Queen. That’s what he had told her in cells below the Bowl of Bones. Is he already thinking about that? About what she could be to him someday?

“She has a lot of people thinking.” His words a low, a warning and a statement. “The Iral’s have been snooping around.” 

“I’m sure your mother handled that with the grace she handles everything.” I swallow the bitter tone that I want to speak with. I’m supposed to be indifferent to Elara at this point. But every time I see her, my blood boils. She destroyed Mare, and she destroyed my brother before he had the chance to be who he was meant to be. She took him from me and twisted him so much that I had no chance of saving him. 

His shrugs, and gives me a boyish smile he perfected in the mirror years ago. “Mare won’t have to worry as much, as long as she doesn’t slip up.” 

“Is she doing well?” I ask as I finally move my pieces, determined to end our little verbal dance. The tension in his shoulders eases as I do that. Putting his piece back he leans forward and says with a smile that cuts me like a knife because of how gentle it is.

“I think she is.”

(////////)

I knock on the secret door in Mare’s rooms exactly two hours later. I have no idea where it opens too, but I assume it’s the closet because that’s where mine is. It opens a crack almost immediately and I slip inside. She must have been waiting by the door. Her room is completely dark and I reach out blindly with a hand to find her before her hand latches onto my wrist.

She chuckles when I jump and teases with a whisper, “You’re getting sloppy if you didn’t immediately grab me from behind the door.” 

I light a small fire in my other hand, and bring her features into focus in the dark. We’re surrounded by clothes that I make sure to avoid with the flame. This is her closet then. That’s good to know. 

Her hair is unbound, falling to her shoulders in waves that she pushes over her shoulders. Giving me a little smile before dropping my wrist, she says, “light a candle, and we’ll make this quick.” 

She slips away into the shadows of her room before disappearing into the bathroom, her robe cutting across the ground. I follow her out of the closet, keeping my steps quiet like hers. A candle waits on the vanity next to it. In the time it takes for the wick to catch with my fire, I hear her turn every faucet on in the bathroom. 

I follow her in there with the candle. When I glance at the running water in the tub and then the sink, she shrugs. “Precaution. I don’t think there are any listening devices but I don’t want to risk it.” 

“How did you get the cameras off?” I ask quickly, wondering if I might be able to give us time in my rooms too. 

“My secret.” She replies as she steps closer to me so that we’re almost chest to chest. I set the candle down on the edge of the tub in response. When I glower at her, she rolls her eyes. “I wriggled it out of Julian that the guards change stations at 12:30 and the camera room is empty for exactly ten minutes.” 

“That is very, very bad security flaw.” I murmur down to her, as I bow my head to trail my lips along her hairline, inhaling the smell of her shampoo. It’s sweeter than anything she would use normally. She usually smells like oak with a hint of ozone. Now she smells like honey and lilac, it doesn’t really suit her. Her fingers rest on my chest and she whispers, “No time for that. We need to talk about Julian.” 

My blood goes cold at the mention of my uncle. And she pulls away a half step to look up and meet my eye. Her breath is warm on my face as she stands on her toes to speak quickly. “I think we should tell him. He’ll understand, and he’ll be able to help.” 

I almost sag in relief. I thought she was going to tell me that he had figured something out. “That’s one more person that knows what’s going on though, and one more person we have to keep in the loop.” 

As wonderful as it would be to have my uncle involved, he’ll want to get Sara involved too, and soon there would be four of us all trying to hide the same thoughts from Elara. At least if it’s just me and Mare, we can be far enough apart and vary our thoughts enough to keep our secret. 

“I can keep him in the loop during our Lessons. I really think we need him, Cal.” She argues, her fingers closing around mine as she squeezes. I shake my head and gesture between us. 

“And what happens if you tell him and he tells us to run? Or what if he messes something up by trying to do something himself?” 

She turns her eyes away and chews on her lip for a moment, contemplating. We have maybe five minutes left before I have to disappear out of her rooms. We don’t have time to get into a full blown pros and cons argument. 

Reaching out to cup her cheek and turn her head to face me, I whisper, “I want his help as much as you do, but if we tell him, we might risk never finding Giselle. We don’t know what the effects of it could be.” 

Exhaling an irritated sigh through her nose, she grumbles, “You’re probably right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“You never like it when I’m right.” 

Her lips twist at my words, until she reaches up to rest her hand on mine. In the dim light it’s still hard to read her expression when she asks, “Are you all right?” 

I look away before saying, “Maven came to see me tonight.” 

“Is that out of the ordinary?” Her voice is cold and her eyes are narrowed when I look back at her. Shaking my head in answer, I turn away to run my hand through my hair. “He was asking about something I did earlier today.” 

Her silence is brittle and I tense for only a moment, knowing she will probably drop kick me out a window when she hears what I did. Glancing at her over my shoulder I say, “I was asking about Storm Legion, and about the Reds that were transferred into it.” 

“Shade’s legion?” She murmurs dubiously, her brows scrunching as she thinks over those words. Suddenly they shoot up to her hairline and she spits in furious whisper, “Cal!” 

“I had asked about it the first time too. Just… not as in depth.”

“You just told me we couldn’t bring Julian in on this because we have no idea what effect it might have, but you’re running around willy nilly doing who knows what by asking questions you shouldn’t be!” She shoves her hands into her hair and her fury is enough that the lights in the chandelier overhead flicker to life for a moment. 

“I’m trying to help us later—” 

“While almost getting yourself caught! What were you thinking? Better yet, were you even thinking at all?” 

“You don’t need to talk to me like I’m a child,” I snap. She immediately falls silent, but the anger still flickers in her eyes. She inhales slowly and exhales at the same speed, like she’s buying time. 

Eventually, when I assume she’s calmed down enough not to scream, she asks, “What did you find out?”

“Nothing, no one would tell me anything.” The same thing had happened before. I had been told not to worry about it, that it was just another regiment of soldiers. The same excuses had come out this time too. 

“Stop poking at things you shouldn’t poke at, Cal.” She demands before walking to the candle and picking it up. I watch her movements, trying to read exactly how upset she is. I suppose if she were on the verge of killing me like I thought she would for half a second, she would have called me Tiberias. “You need to go, time’s almost up.” 

“Mare—” 

“Go, Cal. We can’t make another mistake.” 

When we had stayed in Paradise Valley the first time since the end of the war, we had made a promise. We had both agreed that we would never go to bed angry with each other. If something happened to the other the next day, we didn’t want our last memories to be of fighting. It was a good promise; one I didn’t intend to break just because we are back here. 

Drawing myself to my full height, I plant my feet and say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be hypocritical. I was trying to help us later though.” 

Her eyes dance to me for a moment, wary of my apology and my reasoning. She looks away again, her hand tightening around the candle. “I know.” As if those words have the rest of her anger in them, her shoulders drop and her fingers loosen on the candle.

My shoulders relax too, even when she turns quickly to face me again. Her voice is softer this time, but just as forceful. “You don’t need to be such a damn hero. You don’t need to try and right whatever wrongs you committed. You right them eventually, that should be enough.” 

I hadn’t been trying to do that, at least, I didn’t think that had been my intentions. Maybe she was right though. I step closer to her again, sliding my hand around her waist as I guide her out of the bathroom and toward the closet. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

As soon as we step back in the closet, she stands on her toes to press a kiss to my cheek. “Be careful, please. We have... so much waiting for us.” 

She wanted to say something else, I know she did. There’s no time to ask questions though. I’ll have to ask her about it another time. Turning my head to complete the kiss for a heartbeat, I murmur, “No more righting wrongs. I got it.” 

Still her fingers close around my mine as I open the door, and trail along them as I leave, like she is trying to hold on for a long as possible. I wish I could go back through the door once its closed though and crawl into bed with her and pretend that we aren’t here. I wonder if she feels the same way.

(//////////)

The days are monotonous while I wait for the ball. I ease into the schedules and the meetings, keeping my mouth shut like I told Mare I would. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to strangle Volo Samos with my bare hands sometimes though. Or from wanting to argue with my father until we’re both out of breath. Right now is one of those times. 

“Between us, conscription letters might be what gives me early arthritis,” he grumbles, even though I can hear the laughter in his tone. I look up from the papers I’m reading to watch him flex his fingers a few times. The large stack of letters on his other side still waiting to be signed makes my stomach drop. 

“I suppose you could sign less of them.” I murmur before looking back to my papers. I don’t have the patience today to joke about something like that. I’m still nauseous from hearing about another young Red legion that didn’t make it back from the trenches. Fifty eighteen year olds too ill prepared for what waited for them. Even out of the corner of my eye I can see his expression fall. 

I feel like the time that I am spending with him should be a gift, but almost everything he says makes me want to shout him down. I had been just as ignorant too once upon a time. This is the curse I suppose of reliving the past. Sighing, I set my book of numbers down and massage the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, I’m tired.”

He watched me carefully before saying, “You’re working too hard. If it’s not Shadow Legion, it something else.” 

I work harder someday to fix the mistakes our people made, I want to grumble. I had plenty of sleepless nights after I abdicated. Shaking myself out, I lean back in my chair to avoid meeting his eye. He tilts his head to the side, his expression softening further. “It’ll get easier once we handle this Scarlet Guard and return to Archeon.” 

“I’ll be at the front by that point.” A lie. I never make it there with Shadow Legion. But I do make it to another front. 

“You were always more comfortable there.” He reasons, and reaches for the next letter. The only reason I was so comfortable there was because he had pushed me harder than Maven to be there. Elara would have never let her son go to the front as much as I did. I have a feeling she was hoping a stray bullet with my name on it would embed itself in my skull. It would certainly make her coup easier. Too bad that bullet was never made. 

“Do you think my mother would be happy with that?” I ask finally bringing my eyes back to him. The moment the words are out, I want to swallow them, especially when his eyes shutter and then light with a fire I hadn’t seen in a long time. He sets his pen down and speaks with the dangerously low tone that made me shut up as a kid. “That is a question I don’t have an answer for.” 

Maybe it’s how bitter I am with the whole situation, maybe it’s the fact that I read her diary and know the truth of her desires. But I can’t keep the next words from escaping. “Something tells me she wouldn’t.” 

“Your mother was young. She wasn’t well after you were born.” 

“Funny, Julian says—”

“Is he where all this is coming from?” His voice is quiet thunder, a storm about to break. I was in dangerous territory now. I don’t drop my gaze, but I do pull back into my seat a little bit, giving some ground. He’s a blood hound though, and smells trouble for my mindset. He won’t let it go now. “He’s always been soft about the Red situation. Has he been pushing you to question things that are not your business yet? Has he been speaking to you about treasonous things?”

“No.” I state coolly. I knew Julian and my father had a rough relationship, especially because of Elara. If he is searching for a reason to dismiss Julian entirely I won’t let it come from me. Especially with the safe haven he creates for Mare. Another misstep, another poor choice of words. Mare would kill me if she found out I was the reason she lost her teacher. 

“If he is whispering poison in your ear, I worry for our little Red girl that we have entrusted him with.” His hands curl into fists on the table and his bracelets spark. I swallow, trying to think of the words that will fix this. Why couldn’t I just keep my emotions in check? I was smarter than this. I’d picked the wrong fight and now I was going to have to dig my way out. 

“Julian hasn’t told me anything. I’ve just… I’ve just been thinking about my mother a lot. Leading up to Queenstrial I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I know so little about her.” I’d know about that deal they made since the time I could understand what it had meant. While my father was not the first to marry outside of Queenstrial, he would be the last. Elara would be the last Queen chosen by the ancient rite. 

My words soften the anger that he has barely reigned in, and he slowly sinks into his chair. Shaking his head and reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he says, “I’ve told you about her. You know everything I know.” 

Lie, lie, lie. 

I’ve got myself out though, I won’t argue again. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

When he looks up at me this time, his face is more drawn than I remember. There is far more grey in his hair than my nightmares let me remember too. He drunk himself to an early old age. I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t do the same. 

The door into the council room opens once more, announcing the beginning of our next meeting. Maven enters before anyone else, dressed for the event. He looks like a prince, like a king. How could I ever think I could compete with him. He had been right when he told Mare I was a blunt force weapon. I wasn’t Farley, who was good at questioning orders and making decision. I was good at being put on target and used. If this whole series of events didn’t show that, I didn’t know what else did. 

He eyes the two of us carefully, reading the tension in the room as he sits on the other side of our father. He’ll catalogue that away for later, probably to inform his mother that there is something wedging itself between us. Wonderful. I’ve slipped again. I can only hope this doesn’t come to bite me. 

I give him a smile nonetheless though, and he returns it. We play the parts of loving brothers easily. No wonder I believed everything. He’s a good enough actor for both of us. This time at least I know my script, and I know my role. “This tax briefing won’t be easy today.” 

His lips curl up at the challenge. “Are they ever?”

[sparklingchan]

Perfect ||Yang Hongseok (Pentagon)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Hongseok

Genre : Angst,fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of insecurities and self doubt.

Word count : 1.8k+

Enjoy!

They say that actions speak louder than words but I know from experience that sometimes words cause so much damage that even actions aren't able to repair those damages.

Hongseok says I am the love of his life and that he wouldn't trade me for the world, and I believe him because if I were to list all of his good qualities, being honest would top it. Besides being honest , he was practically good at everything. Singing, dancing, sports, studies, you name it. He is perfect , and even perfect is an understatement sometimes.

"(Y/n), Did you forget to buy milk yesterday too?" my dad asks me as I am eating breakfast, phone in my hand and earphones plugged in.

I sigh , pressing my hand to my face out of guilt. Why am I so forgetful?

"No, I'm sorry, pa. I'll go and buy it right now." I say and stand, leaving my half eaten breakfast behind.

He shakes his head in disappointment.

"Leave it, I'll ask Hongseok to buy it. He's coming to meet you today right?" He asks .

I don't know why but I was disappointed to hear him say that. I should be happy that my father got along so well with my boyfriend and adored him so much but I wasn't. Not even close. I felt like a horrible person at that moment for feeling that pang of jealousy.

"It's okay, pa. Hongseok probably has other things to do too. I'll buy right now. He will be coming in the evening anyway." I say, insistent.

"We can wait until the evening. The last time I sent you to get milk ,you bought everything but milk and this time you didn't even go to buy it. It's alright honey, Hongseok is more responsible. He'll buy it. "

That's when the realisation came of not being good enough. It was a small incident , some light words my father had said in the spur of the moment that I could have easily forgotten about it, just how I forgot everything else, but I didn't. I kept replaying the words in my head 'he's more responsible'. It drilled a small crack in my ego but with time the crack became a gaping hole, waiting to swallow me.

Hongseok invited me to his parents' anniversary party that they were hosting at their residence. I was unwilling to go honestly , not because I didn't want to go but because I was afraid of embarrassing Hongseok in front of his friends and relatives.

You see, I didn't fall into the category of pretty girls. I was just average. In a room full of pretty girls, you would never expect someone to have their eyes stuck on me. I am also too hyper , too talkative, too loud. And there is a whole list of other such things that would take me forever to jot down.

Hongseok didn't say it out loud but I just know that I embarrassed him in public, a lot.

"What are you going to wear?" he asks me over call the night before the party. I stare at the three dresses on my bed(the only dresses I own) and sigh, still stressed about limited choices of dresses for a fancy evening party. I hate wearing dresses but I know I cannot show up at the party wearing a pair of jeans and my black hoodie.

"I don't know, Hong. I'm confused." I say as I flop on the bed, nuzzling my face into the pillow.

"Oh god,(y/n). You should have told me earlier. I would have taken you shopping." He says with a hint of excitement in his voice.

But I fail to reciprocate it.

My ears turn red, embarrassed at his comment. I've been very sensitive to everything he says from the past few days and many times, I even tried to ignore his texts or calls . I know he didn't mean to make me feel this way but I couldn't help it. With each passing day, I feel myself becoming more of burden to him than a girlfriend. Truth to be told, I really wanted him to find his happiness in someone who was better than me.

Not to mention that it would break me to see him with someone else , but I am ready to bear that if it means seeing him truly happy.

" It's alright. I'll wear something nice so don't worry about being embarassed because of me." I reply, the words sounding harsher than I intended.

He keeps quiet for a few seconds before talking again.

"(Y/n), is everything alright? I've been observing you since the past few days and you're acting weird. And now you snap at me like that. You wanna talk about it, huh, baby?" he says in the sweetest voice ever. He always knows what to say, doesn't he? It makes me even more angry.

"He does not deserve you. He deserves someone as perfect as him." a voice inside my head says.

"I'm sorry but I've always been weird. Sorry for the goddamned inconvenience." I yell, sarcasm dripping in my voice. But before he can reply I hang up the call.

That night I turn and toss in my bed ,debating in my head whether or not to go to the party. A part of me wants to go because it feels bad for yelling at Hongseok and genuinely loves him and another part of me hates the idea of the party and just wants to stay in the house, not be an embarrassment to anyone. Ultimately, by the time the sun starts rising and my alarm goes off, I decide to go to the party.

********

I wear a red dress that reaches a little above my knees, pencil heels and some accessories. I put on some light make up and head out for the party. I've been ignoring Hongseok's texts and calls yet again and even though I am really tempted to talk to him, I just patiently wait till I reach his house.

And When I finally reach , I find him standing at the gate, busy on his phone and looking around as if searching for something. And that something is me.

"Hongseok." I whisper loud enough for him to hear me, as I slowly walk towards him, his eyes already on me. His face breaks into a smile on seeing me and naturally,mine does too. I haven't met him in person for a long time and right now, looking at him in a tux and perfect hair and with his beautiful smile, I realise how much I missed him.

He wraps his arms around me and it makes me forget about everything else , though just for a moment.

"I missed you." he says to me , nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

"I missed you too. " I say, placing my arms around his slim waist, " About yesterday-" I am about to complete my sentence when someone , his cousin if I recall properly , interrupts us.

"Hongseok, they're calling you inside, come on"

The party goes on smoothly . Hongseok and I are together almost throughout the whole time and for once, I didn't feel like I was embarrassing, maybe those feelings would come back but right now I am enjoying his company way too much to let negative thoughts ruin.

He would steal kisses from when I am blabbering about something or he would caresses my cheeks or hold my waist. He is all about PDA and I love it. Neither of us talked about yesterday and I know that the issue is resolved without me even having to say anything.

"I'm going to get dessert. Do you want anything?" he says, getting up from the table a little while later.

"I'll come with you." I say as I stand up too even though my feet hurt from wearing heels for too long .

We walk along the outdoor swimming pool, kids playing around and everyone else busy in their own little conversations and for once, I didn't feel out of place. Sadly ,all of that was short lived. Everything that happened next feels like a blur to me, like a video that is fast forwarded a little too much for my liking. I only vaguely remember a kid running right into me with full force, me tripping over and falling right into the swimming pool with a huge splash.

At that moment, I really wish I had stayed home.

*********

My ears are still ringing from to the splash and I feel horrible, embarrassed, sad and anxious all together. I've been holding in my tears all along and I know it isn't long before I snap, horribly. I have never felt so humiliated in my entire life and moreover, I wonder how much embarrassment Hongseok will have to go through because of me. I imagine a better scenario in my head where he is dating someone better than me, someone who'd have never caused so much humiliation. Someone who was more well behaved than me ,someone who wasn't me.

"Wear my t-shirt and pants till your clothes dry out. It shouldn't take long to dry them though." Hongseok says, handing some of his clothes to me.

I don't say anything, afraid of bursting into tears anytime.

I quickly wear his clothes .

"Are you in a mood to go downstairs for lunch or do you want me to bring our plates here? I'm fine with whatever you want, just name it" he says. He removes strands of hair from my face and tucks them behind my ears. His touch is like magic, giving me goosebumps but I force myself to swat his hand away,not being able to look him in the eye.

"I just want to go home. I can't embarrass you or your family anymore. " I say in a choked voice. I didn't want to cry right now but even before I could do anything, my eyes fill with tears.

"(Y/n)! You didn't do anything, sweetheart. Please, don't say that . You could never do that." he says, sitting beside me. He puts his hand comfortingly on my thigh but I move away .

"Why, Hongseok? Why are you lying? I know I have caused you nothing but humiliation and trouble . Stop denying it . I disappoint everyone, you, dad, my teachers, friends. You deserve better than this. Than me, " My voice breaks. "Let me go"

I say the last part in a small voice, unsure of how he'd react but he hears me, loud and clear.

"Okay, stop it now." he says in a tough tone, clearly angry. " I don't know what delusion you're under but let me make one thing clear ,you are more than what I deserve. You are smart, funny, bright, supportive, friendly, romantic, you're perfect. Other girls wish they're you. But they aren't because there can only be one (y/n). And I love her. With all her flaws and perfections. I'm not perfect either. I make mistakes and that's why we're more compatible than anyone else. Do you understand? "

Hearing these words as if breaks a wall that I'd been building from the past few days, and I feel relief wash over me. I start crying.

"You really mean it?" I ask in a small voice as his arms wrap around me. He places a kiss on my head.

"I mean it with all my heart. " He says. "Don't ever say that you're not good enough for me or that I deserve better, because I don't care. You're the one I want and I know you're more than enough for me."

And I believe him, like I always do.

[awkwardbluefish]

Don’t Say Goodbye. I Only Just Found My Home

Don’t say goodbye | Abandoned | Isolation

Summary: Slowly and surely Damian has found his home over the years. Now someone is saying goodbye and maybe it isn't on their own free will but Damian will never be able to accept it.

Damian didn’t deserve this family. He didn’t, and he knew that and no matter how many times they say they love him or how he fits into the family that doesn’t mean he deserved them.

Damian had done so many bad things. He’s killed, he’s tortured, he murdered, had slaughtered innocents and despite all that he still gets hugs and fingers messing up his hair and put into a chokehold, not to kill, but to mess with him. It was mind boggling, how quick everyone was to welcoming him with open arms, welcoming him home. And Damian had denied them, refused to accept fathers adopted charities as his brothers.

Grayson had been persistent though. He annoyed Damian greatly and yet he looked up to him. Grayson was the first Robin, it was in his embers. He was Robin, even if his name was now Nightwing. He named the mantle Damian held so dearly and closely to his chest an when the time came, Grayson chose him to make the Robin name proud. And Damian hadn’t. not at first. But Grayson never blamed him, he’d just sigh, scold him and reminded Damian he wasn’t in the league anymore. He was home and he had no obligation to follow their lead anymore. Grayson was the first one he accepted as his family, maybe even before he accepted his own father.

Then there was Todd. Damian had called the man a disgrace so many times, belittled him with everything he could. He prodded at his flaws then burned them alive, until Todd was raw and his eyes burned, not with fire, but unshed tears that only Damian and Cain could sense. Nothing he did kept Todd away though. He came back again and again, conspiring with him on how they could get away with Jokers murder. He read books out loud to him despite the facts Damian was above the average reading level, he introduced the Disney and Pixar movies to him, forced him to watch. Together they smuggled animals into the house and maybe that’s where they truly bonded, when Damian accepted the towering man as family, as his home.

Meeting Cain had reawakened jealously, hot and ugly, in his chest. It burned and bubbled within his stomach, overriding any admiration he had previously for the woman. She was powerful, diligent. She was everything Damian was not. His father knew it too. No, he didn’t love Damian any less, but he could see, Damian could see, that she would be the successor. She would be the next Batman. The jealously had bubbled up, overflowing and pooping and he had thrown an embarrassing tantrum. He’d attacked Cain but she didn’t fight back. Instead she let him hurt her, spit words of absolute fury and disgust right into her face. and Cain did something that still shocked him to this day. She hugged him and Damian accepted it. He might not be fathers successor but his sister was and sometimes it was hard to swallow but he accepted it. He could become his own person and Cain still fully supported him.

Then Brown and Thomas had come along. Damian had been better then, more himself and less of the league. They accepted him, included him in their nonsense discussions and their toddler worthy banters. There wasn’t a second, they second guessed him, there wasn’t a second, they didn’t trust him. There wasn’t a second, they didn’t consider him as their brother. And Damian had accepted them as his home that it felt like there wasn’t a second where he hadn’t considered them not being his family. Any of them being his family.

Unlike them though, he had only recently started accepting Drake as his home, as his family. Drake was insufferable, a know it all and couldn’t mind his own business for a second. He hadn’t deserved Robin, he had forced his slimy little mitts into the mantle. But it wasn’t that cut and dry, was it? If he hadn’t his father would be lost, a killer, something his grandfather desired from him. If he hadn’t Gotham wouldn’t be like it was today and that infuriated Damian. It infuriated him that Drake was just so good. He hadn’t trained as much as he had and yet Drake was on par with Cain, their fights bloody and brutal. Drake hadn’t studied as much as Damian and yet he was naturally a genius, his eyes roaming over the cases his own father couldn’t. Damian was jealous of Drake, because if Cain wasn’t the successor, Damian knew Tim would be.

Damian knew all this before seeing him face to face and when he actually saw Drake? Jealousy had burned his stomach because he had been so welcoming, eyes delighted at the mere site of Damian and the prospect of having a little brother he could dote on. Damian hadn’t acted fairly and he knew this. Knew it before he attacked the boy, knew it before he forced the mantle into his own, rightful, hands. He knew it every time he picked a fight, burning Drake alive while dousing all his insecurities in gasoline and igniting them for eternity.

To this day Drake still surprised him. He was surprised when Drake gave Damian the mantle that second time, he was surprised that Drake initiated contact, hands on his shoulders, fingers in his hair, legs knocking together and there with a helping hand when Cain destroyed him in a matter of seconds. He was surprised when Drake looked out for him in patrol, surprised how the man introduced Damian to his hobbies and he was surprised when Drake saved him. Damian was surprised now, but even more he was downright and utterly pissed off.

His brows are furrowed, lips trembling in their ugly twisted scowl. His vision of the prone form before him is blurred and disfigured with the tears he’s carrying in his eyes. The slide down his cheeks, tickle as they cling to his eyelashes. Damian doesn’t care he’s being vulnerable; he doesn’t care if he’s crying. He doesn’t care that he’s weak. Because it was his fault that Drake was dying on that metal slab. It was his fault that he had been so reckless. It was all his fault and now Drake was dying from some poison no one has even heard off until now.

“Wake up,” he snaps at the prone form but Drake ignores him. He doesn’t even stir. “Wake up!” Damian snarls and he’s lunging off the plastic chair that leave red marks on the back of his thighs and dents in his skin. Damian was the one who triggered the trap. Damian was the one who forgot his breathing mask. Damian was the one who should be on that cold metal slab. Not Timothy. Him.

He’s shaking the lifeless form, the cold to the touch form. He’s shaking his brother, slick with sweat bangs and tears poking at his eyes. No matter how hard he shakes, Timothy refuses to move. He’s pale, cold and he’s not moving, not even doing that infuriating tick of connecting his thumb with all his fingers. Instead he’s limp in Damian’s hold and the heartbeat is an unsteady echo in the cave.

“Wake up!” Damian cries and there’s a pressure circling around his stomach and strong forearms palling his away despite the fact there were no one on the room mere seconds before. There’re voices, there’s shouting but the frantic beeping of the heart monitor is near deafening. “I just found my home so don’t you dare say goodbye! Don’t you dare leave me all alone!”

His words are met with a deafening silence. The shouting dies out and no one speaks. Damian goes limp. Limper than the corpse of his brother and the arms around his tighten, whispers pressed against his hair. His brain doesn’t make sense of the words, hearing focused of the flatline that echoes around the cave and grates at his ears.

Timothy said goodbye and Damian will never forgive him for that.