#which was a decision i made when i thought a) they'd keep pushing back us going in person and it'd only last a few weeks tops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sincerelylivvv · 1 year

Text

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: rafe is at a total loss when he finds out you're sick; the thought of losing you was once something he constantly avoided, but now is the only thing on his mind

warnings: reader is dying, some language, mentions of religion

wordcount: 2,796

a/n: based on the song 'pray' by sam smith. it's not specified exactly what the reader is dying from, but yknow, she is dying. feel free to leave some feedback! if possible, i may write a another part. if you have any requests, send them in! and super sorry if this is hard for anyone to read, if you are uncomfortable, please do not feel the need to continue reading. If you would like to be tagged in any future fics, just let me know. I love all of you

I'm young and I'm foolish, I've made bad decisions I block out the news, turn my back on religion Don't have no degree, I'm somewhat naïve I've made it this far on my own

Rafe Cameron was no stranger to being alone. He learned at a young age that you can't depend on anyone fully; there's always someone wishing ill on you and then waiting to kick you when you're at a low point. Through the years, he's turned to not-so-healthy habits to cope with how shitty his life was. He was young, careless, stupid. But he figured how much shittier can his life actually get? He dropped out of college, his family hated him and even his friends grew to have a certain distaste for him.

He remembers how his family used to attend church on Sunday mornings. When he was a kid, he'd be in a different section of the church with others close to his age. They'd participate in whatever activity was going on at the time and through the couple hours they were there, would be given snacks to keep them from going hungry.

Through all of the poor decisions he's made, he was still content with himself. He made it this far on his own and knew he could go farther if he pushed himself enough. He never was the kind of person that would back down from a challenge. His now? To become someone his father could say he was proud of. Or at least a person that didn't cause distaste within his toxic family.

He thought heavily about leaving the island, thinking a new start would be good for him. A different place with different faces; people who know nothing of him than what he let them know. He could go back to college or maybe start a job straight off the bat, which may be a better option for him due to the circumstances he finds himself in. He doesn't have much money, no one to confide in, and no certain direction to go in.

Until he met you. You were the daughter of a multi-millionaire businessman. Your dad first started out small, starting a mediocre landscaping business, and eventually had the opportunity to go to college. After majoring in both business and communications and secured a job on Wall Street. He then went on to start a chain of five-star hotels located throughout the country, and eventually sold his landscaping business. He met your mom after she applied to work at one of the hotels and the rest is history.

He met you at a party. You and your parents were on vacation and staying in the house your dad bought as a gift for your mom. He remembers how excited and at ease you were, with a cup of the spiked juice in your hand. Your hips were swaying along to the beat of the music, laughs tearing out of your throat in utter joy; and he was captivated as soon as he saw you.

He wished he could say he was the one to go up to you, but that wasn't how it turned out. You and your friends had been walking towards the drinks, which just so happened to be close to where he was standing, and in a complete accident, you knocked his drink out of his hand when walking by him.

"Shit! I am so, so sorry about that," you rush apologetically. "I wasn't watching where I was going, and God everything is kinda swaying right now. I can go grab you another drink-"

"Nah, don't worry about it." He smiles. "Accidents happen. And you look a little past the point of tipsy. No offense."

The laugh that tore out of your throat made his stomach flutter; it was beautiful and graceful and everything he was the exact opposite of. "Trust me; none taken," you grin back.

But lately, that shit ain't been gettin' me higher I lift up my head and the world is on fire There's dread in my heart and fear in my bones And I just don't know what to say

That moment on the beach was the moment he knew he wanted you; forever and always. It was the start of a beautiful and bountiful relationship, which he was by no means accustomed to. He was used to short-lived relationships, more so hookups, so this was all to him.

You caught on to that pretty early on, as hard as Rafe tried with you, he fell a little short sometimes. But he did try really hard, there were just those few key tells he had that made you contemplate whether he had ever been in anything serious before. And eventually, it was brought up in conversation, and just like you had thought, he had never done anything like this before. Not that it bothered you; relationships weren't easy, especially if you were new to them, but you were patient with the boy.

Though he had bad trust issues, he grew to learn how to open up with you. You were there for him no matter what; always so kind and understanding with everything he talked to you about. It was strange for him, unfamiliar. But he was grateful nonetheless.

The day he found out the news hit him like a train. And though he thought he knew what panic attacks were, which maybe he did, he never had one as bad as this. His vision became very narrow with black spots clouding his eyes every now and then, and the world around him was both moving too fast and too slow all at the same time.

It hurt you to tell him, but it hurt him even more knowing there was nothing he could do to help. All you've done for him, and he would never have the chance to give back to you.

You tried your best to stop the sniffles that came from you, desperate to hide the sadness that was written on your face. Your hands cradled his, warm and soft over ones that were rough and brittle, and you gently pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do, Rafe?" Your voice was quiet and calm, and Rafe sat shocked at how you could be so relaxed.

"How are you so…so at ease when you're-" His voice breaks, sobs quickly pouring out from him.

"Oh, Rafe." You maneuver to sit on his lap, thighs on either side of his, and your head now lying on top of his own as his tears wet the sweatshirt you're wearing.

His clammy hands cling to every inch of you, desperate to hold on to you for as long as he could. Maybe if he held you long enough, you wouldn't leave. The both of you would carry on as if you wouldn't be gone in a few months, and the pair of you would do what he dreamed of doing with you.

But that wasn't the case, you would be gone, and a part of him with you. He wondered what he did to have such heartache brought on him, to have the only good thing in his life taken from him and would be forced to move on as if you weren't gone. As if he was still whole.

"It'll be okay, Rafe."

Maybe I'll pray, pray Maybe I'll pray I have never believed in you, no But I'm gonna pray

Rafe never would have thought he'd be back in the church he grew up in. But he thought if there was a God, maybe He would have some empathy and listen. The both of you started going together in the beginning; it took you off guard when he asked you about going, but again, you wanted nothing but to support him. Eventually, you got too sick to go. So, two then became one.

He never prayed so hard. In fact, he never prayed at all. Even when he was forced to go as a child, he never prayed. But he wanted to keep you here and all to himself. He knew it was selfish, but he came to the decision that he never was one for selflessness.

It was after a Sunday service that he thought he'd stop by to see you. Stepping out of his truck, he approaches the door to your house with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. First, he heard your dog bark, little Daisy, and then he was met with the warm eyes of your mother.

"Rafe!" The woman exclaims, joy radiating from her body. "Come in, come in," She ushers him inside. "How've you been? Y/F/N told me you were thinking about working for the company."

Rafe nods, "Yeah, we've been talking about it. I guess it'll…I don't know, depend on how I am after-" He stops and the woman in front of him flashes a sad, knowing look.

"Of course," She agrees. "No rush at all. There will always be a place for you. You have my word." She gently pats his shoulder, and all is quiet for a few moments before she makes a 'tsk' sound. "Well, Y/N is in her room, for now. She's been asking to go on a walk around the garden for a while. Maybe you could join us," She proposes.

"Yeah of course," Rafe smiles. "Mind if I go see her?"

Rafe's brow cringes and his shoulders drop. "Yeah," He mumbles. 'I know the feeling,' he thinks.

"Well, best not to keep her waiting." Your mom motions to the steps.

You had been staring out the windows of your room when you heard the light knock on your door, and before you could even speak, Rafe pokes his head into the room. "Mind if I come in?" He grins.

Your tired face lights up upon seeing him, and with rapid nods of your head, Rafe makes his way over to you.

"Pretty flowers," You comment. "Who're they for?"

"A pretty girl," Rafe answers and lands a swift kiss on the crown of your head. He pulls away and smirks cheekily at you. He then bows his head once more and begins peppering light kisses over your face, basking in the giggles that flew from your mouth.

Eventually, he presses one last kiss to your lips before pulling away once more, sitting down the flowers he once held on the nightstand beside the hospital bed your father had put in your room.

He sighs as he sits down in the chair beside you. "How you doing, sweet girl?"

You do your best to shrug, "I'm doing good. A little tired." You try to smile, but Rafe is quick to notice the twinge of pain that briefly crossed your face.

His eyes dance across your face; your color has dulled slightly, and your eyes are heavy and defeated. "I'm sorry," He finally says. "Your mother told me about your walk today, though. That's something to look forward to." He's fast to change the subject, not wanting to think about how bad you're doing and how broken he is at the sight of you. He hates seeing you in such a state; a girl who was once so full of love and life and everything pure in the world was now lying sick in a bed.

You grin a little, "Yeah, I'm excited. I've been dying to get out of this bed." You then wince at your words, "Yikes, bad joke," you attempt to laugh it off upon seeing the flash of pain across your boyfriend's face. "Well, um will you be joining us?"

Rafe chuckles, grabbing onto your hand and rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. "Wouldn't miss it."

I'm not a saint, I'm more of a sinner I don't wanna lose, but I fear for the winners When I tried to explain, the words ran away That's why I am stood here today

Rafe knew he wasn't that great of a person; not one anyone would go out on a limb to save, but he still had a sliver of hope that some miracle would save him from the nightmare you and he were facing.

Every night and every Sunday morning, he gave his best shot at asking, begging, God to save you. He always talked about knowing he didn't deserve such a huge ask, but that you, at the very least, deserved something better than this. He would include all the plans he still had with you; proposing and getting married, having kids, spending the holidays with you, but above all, growing old with you.

He hoped that his plea would at least sway someone enough to pull through will a miracle; he had even stated a few times that he would be more than willing to take your place. Just as long as you stay and you're happy.

His pleas of hope and desperation are the only reason he's always stood firm in that church that he hated so much There wasn't enough money in the world to make him go to church, but that was before he met you. And it was sure as hell before the revelation that he was gonna lose you one day and there was nothing he could do about it.

Won't you call me? Can we have a one-on-one, please? Let's talk about freedom Everyone prays in the end Everyone prays in the end

Rafe was beyond angry.

He recently found out from your father that you were only getting worse, and the doctor that had been taking care of you revealed that there wasn't anything more that could really be done

So all that time he spent praying for you? He got nothing out of it.

Sometimes, he thought that it was kind of funny how he once begged his father for things, most small, but never got it, and then had to beg and plead with someone else for your well-being and still didn't get anything.

The most recent night he saw you was the worst. You looked bad before, but now? You looked terrible. Your face began sinking in, arms and body became smaller due to you not eating much. And even when you did, you threw most of it up.

You hardly talked now. You were always somewhat quiet but still knew how to have a loud, breathtaking presence. That wasn't the case anymore, though; you were hardly ever awake, on account of you not having much energy, and when you were, you wouldn't say much. Usually just a quiet 'hi' and then would look out your window.

It killed Rafe to see you in such a state. To not be able to have a conversation like he used to. But he learned that while you may not be willing or able to talk, you still enjoyed listening to him. He told you all about the apartment he was able to get, with the help of the job your father gave him, and how he got a dog he named 'Posie', and even brought in pictures of her to show you. She was an older King Cavalier Charles Spaniel, and almost completely deaf, but he loved her, and so did you. Sometimes, he'd even bring her over for a playdate with Daisy, which always brought a brighter look to your face.

He didn't know what particularly triggered it, but he finally, completely and utterly, broke down. On the floor of his bedroom, heavy breaths and thick tears fell all too quickly. It was the type of crying that went from loud, heart-wrenching sounds to nothing at all. And with all the strength he could muster up, he begged, unknowingly for the last time, for someone to help you. This time, not specifying who, just someone bigger to help the sickness that still plagued you.

'Just a fucking one-on-one, please', He thought over and over again. The mantra was recounted in his head for what felt like forever, until he eventually fell asleep.

That was until he picked up the phone call, in which your mother finally told him you had gotten better, only to finish with the words, 'she passed during the night…in her sleep. I'm so sorry, Rafe.'

tagged: @scenesofobx @casualcloddeputyherring @x-lulu

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

110 notes · View notes

findingnemosworld · 8 months

Text

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 - 𝐤𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐊𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬? )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐤𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 :)

[ 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ]

The text message was unexpected, what was even more unexpected was his visit to her café, a small and local place in the village, frequented by the residents here - including him, he'd decided to stop by on an afternoon, dressed in an all white ensemble which complimented his tanned skin, his hair was up in a bun which she had never expected him to pull off, there were faint lines in his eyes whenever he smiled and the increase of tattoos across his skin.

" I'm glad you came " she manages to muster up, through a shaky voice. " That -erm - ... that you made time to see me " she adds, her digits nervously toyed with the bracelet around her wrist. " How's life with you? how're your parents? I haven't seen them in a while "

" They're good " He nods with a smile, " Life is good, I'm playing for Liverpool, It's been good, busier than ever but good "

" I heard " She states, not wanting to divulge further into the fact that she watched every matched played in, be it for Liverpool or the national team. " I'm happy for you "

The conversation shifts from work to trivial topics to the beautiful weather in the village, and while she wanted to bring back a sense of normalcy, his eyes were a giveaway of how guarded he was and she knew exactly why, after all - she's the biggest blame for that.

It all stems back to three years ago, specifically in December - before he left, he'd informed her of his decision to move and while he expected her a level of love and support; the fear of being hurt again had resulted in her shattering his heart first, declaring that their love shattered with this, that they did not stand a chance with him now living miles away.

The last time they'd seen one another, he'd gotten her roses and instead of watering them, she chose to neglect them.

" Kos " She murmurs, her eyes glossy with the tears threatening to fall. " I'm sorry, for that night " she swallows the lump in her throat.

" Άγγελος, σε παρακαλώ ( Angel, please ) " He interjects with a soft tone.

" No, just hear me out " She states with a sad smile, " I thought I made the right decision back then, because you know that I had gone through so much before I met you, and when you told me you were leaving, the fear of us never finding a common ground, or worse, losing touch ... it was so consuming that, I decided to cut off the rope before it became too painful to hold onto, and what I thought was freedom slowly transformed into me missing you, and wishing that I realized how much you loved me when you were mine, and if I had the chance, I would change time "

He casts his gaze away, recalling that day as well - how painful it was to hear her say that she no longer loved him. " I never forgot you " he said with a faint smile, " In one of the interviews that I had done after the penalty I took, they asked me who was the biggest supporter that pushed me to keep going, I said, god, my family and you "

The way in which he mentioned her was enough to soften her heart, resulting in her suggesting that they should take a stroll seeing as she was done for the day, and a stroll is what they took.

The streets were familiar, and in a ludicrous sense - reminiscent of the nights that they'd sneak away from their friends, and walk together, chatting endlessly about their hopes and dreams.

" You look tired! " He breaks the silence by pointing out her current appearance which resulted in a dry chuckle from her, " Have you been sleeping well? "

" No, these days I ... " She trails off, and sighs. " I haven't been sleeping properly, every night I stay up and the day I left you, just keeps rewinding inside of my head "

" Oh " He murmurs.

" You know, I beat myself up over not calling you on your birthday " She said, which was true - within those three years, each time his birthday rolled around, she grabs her phone; wanting to call or send a message yet she couldn't find it in her, afraid that he wouldn't answer.

" I would have answered " He assures her, " perhaps not on the same day but I would have "

She smiles, " I thought about the summers we spent together, all the reckless adventures we took, remember when we took a hike and you thought that it would be fun to slide down, only to get hurt " she laughs.

He laughs along with her, " Beautiful times "

" They were beautiful times, the car rides were my favorite, especially when I'd look at you laughing from the passenger side, every joke for some reason made you laugh " She states, " I still don't know why "

" That's easy " He shrugs, " That was because you were the funniest person I know "

They stop by a familiar spot they used to frequent, they remain silent for a brief moment before she opens her mouth to say, " I realized from that day how much I loved you, it was fall time and the weather was unexpected, similar to how your love had hit me, unexpected and so beautiful "

" And then ... " He paused, " winter rolls around ... "

" Winter, the cold and dark days facilitated the fear I felt " She nods then looks at the two elders strolling together, " The fear of not spending the rest of my life with you here, you had given me so much love and I gave you nothing but goodbyes "

They continue walking, this time with nothing but comforting silence - this stroll seemed to grant them the closure that they needed.

" I missed you in that time " She said, " I tried to move on but I couldn't, from your tanned skin to your smile to the way you talked to me and comforted me, you were so good to me, so right " she takes a moment to compose herself, " the way you held me in your arms that night in September, a week after my dad died, you held me in a way that helped me gather myself back together "

He takes her hand in his to give it a gentle squeeze, not wanting to utter a word to allow her to continue.

" That was the first night you watched me cry, and every time I remember that, a sense of wishful thinking or me ludicrously dreaming that ... If we were to get the chance to rewind, I would love you properly " She wipes away the tears. " However I -um- ... I know that we can't have really turn back time, but I'll always cherish the moments that we had, we had gotten to a place now where we cannot be the two young souls in love, so if the door to your heart is closed, I understand "

Three years had passed, and yet every time she sees him, she remembers that awful day, in December where their love had crumbled; and as much as she tries to claim that she had moved on, she can't help but wish there was a way to reverse time, to undo her wrongdoings, and to love him properly.

#kostas tsimikas #kostas tsimikas imagine #kostas tsimikas one shot #kostas tsimikas fanfiction #kostas tsimikas fanfic #Spotify

13 notes · View notes

sonderkore · 2 years

Text

✉ extraordinary attorney woo | ep 14 thoughts heartbreaks, hanbadaz, and heading towards the big bad

first things first: this is youngwoo's best outfit END OF DISCUSSION

(and the fact that they match too)

↳ heartbreaks i'm gonna address this first because i already wrote a very emotional post about it (that i sort of regret doing now).

the breakup scene was painful to watch but pushing my attachment aside, nothing felt out of place. they showed us the whys and hows of youngwoo making this decision, how much it actually hurts her. junho is capable of being upset, and him snapping like that isn't ooc either. and to really push the angst in deep, they showed us the breakup scene in the middle of the episode followed by the aftermath aka the YEARNING. and we'll get more of that in the next ep.

i honestly thought they'd leave it at the very end, but this is better, i think? because we saw that there's still hope. there's room to talk and work things out because they still, clearly, like each other very much. this is all just a block on the road they need to kick away.

(i'm way too emotionally attached to this relationship, so if it doesn't end in marriage i'll riot)

junho getting cutesy pouty drunk was funny, and then pair it up with geurami and minsik singing a song about breakups.

but youngwoo the entire time :( her first heartbreak. at the plane back to seoul, when they focused on her fixing her seatbelt because junho reminded her to wear it properly in the last ep, WHAT WAS THE REASON??? she misses him so much but she doesn't do anything about it because she wants to do what she thinks is best for junho.

i also can't believe that it was minwoo who gave junho a somehow rational reason as to why she broke up with him. i don't like agreeing with him. i was almost going to give him a chance then and there, BUT of course, he just had to say that breaking up was for the best because junho "can't handle youngwoo," and then we're back to regular scheduled programming of hating his ass.

imzeroclock on twt provided a translation of his slip up, and he was actually referring to the secret of her birth. it sets up what's about to happen next week.

overall, eunbin and taeoh did great! i'm still BROKEN. seeing them apart while eating was painful. (if we get lunch scenes where they're sitting in different tables next week but all they keep doing is steal glances at each other, i'm gonna scream)

but, again, i want to have hope - even if that failed me last time. but it was clear this time around. there's still a chance. they'll be okay.

↳ hanbadaz myeongseok's babies are all grown up!

after the offer myeongseok made to the abbot, the three rookies were inspired and had done something similar for the haengbok noodles owner. youngwoo's words of affirmation to myeongseok was what he needed, and seeing these two's mentor-mentee relationship bloom is so wholesome and the best thing about ep 14.

bless youngwoo for not giving up on trying to find the owner all for the sake of myeongseok. we're seeing her shine brighter each episode, becoming more aware of the people around her and their needs. i love her character so much.

the squad eating noodles was a heartwarming scene, and although it can be read that something bad might happen to myeongseok like he's saying goodbye, i don't think they can fit that in the last two eps. next week will all be about youngwoo and overcoming everything that was thrown at her.

which is why i feel like myeongseok's arc is complete now? he won't be working in the next ep because he'll undergo surgery and is hopefully recovering. that's why the rookies are under atty jang now. but i hope he comes back soon.

no major comments about minwoo and suyeon. it was bound to happen. if that becomes a tool to shape minwoo's arc, then sure whatever. but i know that suyeon liking minwoo won't change her love and urge to protect youngwoo from him. (she still deserves better because he's still an ableist asshole)

geurami tho T-T i'm glad she's going to start getting over minwoo!! you deserve better babie! if it's mr hairy, then i'll root for you two!

↳ heading towards the big bad ceo han is the literal definition of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

i remember when she acted so shocked that papa gwangho would assume that she hired youngwoo to use her against taesumi, AND YET

i'm not siding with either ceo han or taesumi. i hope myeongseok and his kids leave at some point and ceo han's schemes are uncovered. i hope taesumi doesn't get the position. although, i do feel more sympathetic towards taesumi because of her past. but how she's acting towards youngwoo is rubbing me off the wrong way.

i'm on youngwoo's side through and through. i hope she defeats them both.

with everything that youngwoo's been through, she'll get through the aftermath of whatever plan ceo han has. she has her friends by her side, thank god for suyeon and geurami, but we all know she's tough and badass on her own. SHE'S A SMART BADDIE

(that preview tho. i'm a sucker for tropes where character A is in danger and character B, hopelessly in love with A, overcome with worry, runs to protect them. GIVE ME AN HOUR OF THAT)

anyway. is ep 14 a bad ep? i'm torn to be honest. i wish we didn't get angst, but i also want to give it a chance and see where they lead with it. the entire jeju-do trip was heartbreaking and then heartwarming, a whole rollercoaster. but i enjoyed a lot of the scenes in it and i'm currently an emotional wreck.

do i think it's rushed? we'll see i guess? it's hard to say it is with finality when there are still 2 eps left. but if they squeeze in too much drama in the final ep and not a lot of junho and youngwoo being domestic and married, then yes it is.

but, again, this is just me rambling. i'll see you guys soon!

#extraordinary attorney woo #eaw ep 14 #extraordinary attorney woo episode 14 #lee jun ho #woo young woo #choi su yeon #kwon min woo #lia.txt #eaw #i'm gonna make a post about junho's rainbow button ups soon!!#your gorl's gotta work first ok byeeee!!

46 notes · View notes

sweaterkittensahoy · 10 months

Text

I thought the end of June was bringing up the first anniversary of having to split from the former friend, but it turns out it was the end of July.

My anxiety brain really wants to focus in and gnaw on it, and I'm trying to keep that from happening. I made the right decision. I got out of a co-dependent, abusive relationship, and even while I understand HOW we got there from years of a healthy relationship, it doesn't change the fact that I absolutely cannot trust them ever again and don't want them anywhere near me.

They knew my history. They knew my trauma. They used it to their advantage to try and force me to take care of them so they wouldn't have to accept the reality that the shit they were in was of their own making.

And on top of the severe emotional manipulation, financial fuckery, isolation, and putting me through classic abuse cycle (if I pushed back, they'd stop responding to any contact from me for several days, and then they'd suddenly pop up ready to spend all their time with me again, and me, having feared the worst, would allow my life to be taken over), not to mention the boundary violations and constant emotional strain of just being near them, they also lied to me about their relationship with their therapist.

And, look, there's a LOT of this situation I can look at and say, "I think this started out unintentionally but then became very intentional." But they sat on my couch, looked me in the face, and told me they were following their therapist into private practice.

Sat on my couch.

Looked me in the face.

And said that.

Two weeks after their therapist had unequivocally told them their relationship would be ending.

Which I know because part of the former friend's taking over of my life to make me take care of their life was them signing me up as the ROI person for their therapist, so when shit hit the fan finally, I sent the therapist a very long email detailing what caused me to walk away from the relationship, and the therapist called me back and said, "This will all go in the clinic notes, but that person has not been my patient since the end of last month."

There is no unintentional way to lie to my fucking face on a matter that serious. It was a completely deliberate act designed to keep up the façade that the former friend was trying to take care of themself.

My dears, my darlings, even my enemies, know this: You cannot help someone who is not doing any fucking work to help themself. You cannot bail out the rowboat on the left side while someone else shoots holes into the right side. You'll both fucking drown.

There are times where the only solution that will save you is to get out of the fucking boat.

#former friend #codependence #abusive relationship #emotional manipulation #trauma #abuse recovery #i'm healthier now than i was then #but sometimes my brain wants to lie to me

6 notes · View notes

jagged1 · 2 years

Text

I Made My Bed And I Must Lie In It (Not If I Can Help It)

Fandom: Outlast Rating: Teen Characters: Mentioned Jeremy Blaire/Waylon Park, pre-Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park Summary: Waylon bails out of a bad situation, but needs some help with the consequences of his actions. Contains: Alternate Universe - College, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Domestic Abuse, Blood and Injury Word Count: ~3100 AO3 Link

Everything hurts. Oh fuck, does he ache like hell. Waylon’s made dumb decisions before, but this one is way up there. He can't believe he actually just jumped from a moving car.

One moment, everything was fine; he was fine, and now... now, he's laying on the side of the road, battered, bruised, bleeding, chilled, and more than a little lost. He isn’t entirely sure how he got himself into this position.

Well... no, he might be lying to himself a bit. More than a bit. Okay, a lot. He knows his friends have never liked Jeremy. He thought they were just being overprotective, a ‘Here’s a newly out Waylon testing the waters in college, better keep an eye on him’ kind of love.

He knows he was resistant to listening to them. Sure, Jeremy could be kind of an ass, but he was kind to Waylon when it mattered. He thought they’d eventually warm up to him. Instead, they hate him more than before and here he is beat to fucking hell in more ways than one.

He was really wrong with that one.

Jeremy’s always been a little pushy, but his confidence in his every move was what drew Waylon in. He didn’t think complaining about it was his place, so when Jeremy pushed a little too hard or went a little too far, Waylon just took it. They were still learning each other's habits and limits. Jeremy wasn't stupid by any means, he had to see what Waylon was okay with and what he wasn't. They'd find their rhythm.

And then, they really didn't.

Jeremy kept pushing and he kept taking. He can’t help but think of the story of the frog in a pot not knowing it’s being boiled alive. It feels fitting.

He's so glad it hadn't gotten physical, because he already feels like death from his ill-advised leap of faith. It wasn't so far off though, based on Jeremy's cryptic answers about where they were headed, what was going to happen, and how angry he got when Waylon finally spoke up and began to really disagree.

He looked like he would have throttled Waylon if he could've and Waylon was not going to stick around and find out.

So a very ill-advised tuck and roll it was. He’s lucky he didn’t smash his head on the ground and that Jeremy just kept fucking driving instead of stopping and coming back for Waylon; he wouldn’t be able to put up any sort of protest in this state.

…Jesus, he really has been a complete idiot. That’s such a messed up thought to have, shit.

He wants to hide away and lick his wounds in peace. He wants to cry for being so fucking stupid. He thinks he could die from the shame of being so thoroughly fooled like he was. He’s thinking about just finding a place to squat for the night when a violent shiver wracks his body and puts an end to that train of thought.

He’s never been hurt like this before and he’s afraid he won’t make it through the night without help. He doesn’t exactly trust his judgment right now either.

First things first, he carefully tests each part of his body, taking stock of what hurts and how injured he might be beyond his nerves screaming pain at him. His back and shoulder took the brunt of the fall, and he thinks he feels cold air directly against his back, which would make sense. He probably has the worst road rash ever, but everything moves and nothing hurts more than he expected it to when he flexed, so that’s good.

Next, he carefully pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches for his phone. He’s praying it survived the jump, because he has seriously no idea what to do if he can’t use it to figure out where he is. He actually does tear up a little in relief when he pulls it out and sees it’s just a little more scratched up. Thank god for good phone cases.

When he pulls up his map app, he feels his heart sink. He’s in a part of town where he’s never been in before, so shuffling off on his own is out of the question. It’s probably better that he doesn’t move too much anyway, but still. He really doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. He’s afraid of what their reaction will be.

He absentmindedly bites his lip and hisses in pain. Shit, it’s probably split, he didn’t think about that. He’s actually terrified of checking himself out with the camera right now and pushes the thought aside.

Focus! He needs help and he can’t stay here. He should call someone, but who? He doesn’t want to call Lisa out to an unknown neighborhood late at night. Miles is out of town on some assignment, if he remembers correctly. That leaves… oh shit. Eddie.

Waylon groans. Eddie is both the best and the worst person for him to call. Eddie drives both a car and a motorcycle. He’ll be able to pick up Waylon with no problem and he probably knows exactly what to do for all his injuries. Not to mention he’s a beast and can take care of himself.

He also may or may not have a bit of a crush on the man and the thought of Eddie seeing him like this and judging him hurts. He debates taking his chances on a rideshare for a minute before discarding the idea. He’s made enough bad decisions for one night.

He takes a deep breath and holds it while he dials Eddie’s number and waits for him to pick up. Oh god, what if he doesn’t answer? What’s Waylon going to do? Will he have to actually try a rideshare? He’s halfway into driving himself into a panic spiral when Eddie answers. “Hello? Waylon?”

He lets the breath out in a messy sputter, a squeaky “Eddie!” coming out with it. Oh god, could he be any more pathetic right now? He grimaces, closing his eyes against the invisible judgment he feels.

“Eddie,” he tries again. “Hi... I’m sorry, but can you come and get me right now? Please? I’m in trouble.” An understatement, but Eddie will see for himself soon enough. “I’ve shared my location.”

“Trouble? Waylon, what is going on?” Waylon can hear him fumbling about in the background as he starts getting ready to leave.

He avoids the question, but does remember to tell Eddie, “Bring your car, I can’t ride on your bike right now.”

“Waylon!” He sounds panicked and Waylon feels so guilty and stupid and pathetic. He wants to end the call immediately, but he knows he’ll only make Eddie worry even more. He doesn’t need to get into an accident trying to help Waylon.

“I’m... not fine, but I’ll be okay until you get here. I left Jeremy. I don’t know where I am and I need help. Please... don’t ask anything more right now.” He hunches in on himself, hissing in pain as it pulls the wounds on his back.

“You do not sound fine. I won’t ask, but you are staying on the phone with me until I get there. I am not budging on this.” Waylon hears the sound of a car door slamming, he must be on his way. “I shouldn’t be long, stay with me.”

He gulps and murmurs quietly, almost chastised, “Okay. Thank you, Eddie.” He can’t stop the tears now, but at least he isn’t sobbing in Eddie’s ear.

Eddie keeps up a stream of comforting words and progress updates, only occasionally asking Waylon to respond so he can check that he’s still there. It’s more comforting than he expected and he finds himself relaxing incrementally.

It lasts until he can hear Eddie’s car speeding down the road. He immediately curls back into a tighter ball, another gasp of pain escaping. Across the phone, he can hear Eddie make another alarmed sound. “M’fine. Just moved wrong.”

“Is that you on the ground?”

“Yes.”

This time it's a wounded sound. “Waylon, darling, I’m right here. Just give me a minute.” He hangs up the phone and Waylon is so, so happy because the word ‘darling’ breaks him. He’s crying noisily now and if Eddie can’t hear him while he’s parking, he will soon.

Eddie practically wrenches his door off the hinges, sprinting over to Waylon. “Darling, what happened?” He drops to a knee, hands hovering over him, like he’s afraid his touch will break him.

Waylon cries harder, noisy gulps of air interspersed with hiccuping sobs. He doesn’t know if he’s touched by Eddie’s concern or hurt that he’s being denied that comfort. His chest feels so tight and his stomach feels like it’s dropped out from underneath him

“Oh, darling...” Eddie sounds heartbroken and his expression can only be described as devastated. “You’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. You’re safe with me.” He stands up, offering his hands. “Can I help you stand? We’ll get you to my car and make a plan from there, okay?”

Waylon can only nod, carefully uncurling and reaching for his hands.

Eddie immediately takes them, only barely refraining from hauling Waylon up himself to ensure he doesn’t aggravate any of the numerous injuries he can see and especially those he can’t. They’ll need to go to a hospital, but he knows Waylon won’t agree to that tonight. He’ll have to take him home and do his best.

He does practically lift him off his feet with how much weight he takes as he walks him over to the car. He didn't even bother to turn it off, and he’s glad for that with how cold Waylon feels. He immediately settles him into the backseat on his side before swinging around to the trunk to pull out the emergency blanket he keeps in there and tucking it around him loosely. He’d love to have him up front with him, but it’s better to keep pressure off his back for now.

He crouches down again and gently brushes some of Waylon’s hair out of his face. “Are you okay coming home with me? I can take a look at your wounds and take care of them there.”

Waylon’s still gasping for air between his forcefully stifled sobs, so he nods again, choking out a tiny “Please.”

“Of course, darling. It won’t be long.” He strokes one finger lightly against Waylon’s temple before withdrawing. He wishes he could speed home, but he can’t risk hurting Waylon anymore, so it’s better that they get going now.

The drive feels like it takes forever and no time at all, both of them caught up in their own worries and fears. Waylon has managed to stop crying even as the guilt and shame he feels intensifies. Eddie feels like he's hanging onto his calmness by a thread. He desperately wants answers and to do something, anything, for Waylon.

He's terribly invested in his well-being.

As soon as he’s parked, Eddie comes around to the backseat. “Waylon, we’re here. Can you sit up so we can go in?”

He nods again, not trusting his voice to hold. He carefully rights himself before awkwardly shuffling along the seat to take Eddie’s hand and stand. As much as he wants to shy away from his touch, he’s craving the comfort it brings him. He makes do with clutching the blanket harder with his other hand.

They make their way inside, shucking their shoes at the door before Eddie ushers him towards the bathroom, settling him on the toilet. “Let me get you a change of clothes and the first aid kit. I’ll be right back.” True to his word, Eddie’s not gone more than a minute. He sets the pile of clothes aside for later before kneeling in front of Waylon. “Can you drop the blanket? I need to see your wounds.”

Waylon lets the blanket slide from his grip and shoulders, hissing as it drags lightly across his injuries.

Eddie furrows his brow at the sound, mouth pursing in displeasure and worry. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t want to give you anything until after I’ve seen how injured you are. I’ll be as quick and careful as possible. I promise.” He slowly reaches out to touch Waylon, sighing in relief when Waylon’s eyes close at his touch and he relaxes into it.

He takes the opportunity to take a long look at him, bruised, scraped, and bleeding. He looks so fragile and so strong at once. Eddie admires that about him, but he wishes Waylon wouldn’t push himself so hard and treat himself so roughly. He still doesn’t know the story, but he knows Waylon.

He gives himself a shake before refocusing on his task. He gently moves Waylon to get a better look at the various injuries, testing his range of motion. It’s mostly smaller scale, some scrapes and bruises, but nothing that worries him. He reaches for the antiseptic and delicately cleans the open wounds before applying bandages. They’ll need to get ice packs later for some of the swelling.

When he’s done tending to Waylon’s front, he asks “Can you open your eyes? I need to check for a concussion.”

Waylon obliges. He follows Eddie’s finger as it moves, meets his gaze as he checks his pupil sizes, answers all the basic questions he asks to check his memory. They’re both not sure if the pain is related to one or just the overwhelming feedback from the rest of his body, but they do their best.

Eddie is still concerned, but Waylon passes most of his tests, so he lets it go. It will be a problem for them to tackle tomorrow. “I think you’re alright, so now, could you turn around?”

He carefully rotates to put as much of his back towards the light and Eddie’s gaze as he can. He has to fight the urge to curl up as he hears Eddie hiss in sympathy.

“Waylon, darling, I’ll need to cut your shirt off to see better. Is that okay?” At his nod, Eddie reaches for the trauma shears and quickly cuts through the remaining cloth, gently easing it off Waylon’s torso. He looks like he’s been through a shredder, large swaths of skin sheared off and gravel and grit embedded in places, dotting the bright red skin with flecks of brown, gray and black.

They’ll need to clean it all out before he can do anything else, but he’s afraid of causing him any more pain. “Waylon… There’s a lot of debris in these. I’ll need to remove it. Can I wash your back?”

Waylon flushes pink. As if he wasn’t already feeling exposed, this might just be the thing that will kill him. He’s oddly grateful for the pain. It keeps him grounded. He gives another tiny nod, bracing himself.

Eddie works quickly. He uses tweezers to pull the largest pieces out before getting the softest washcloth he has and wetting it, along with a cup full of water. He carefully pours the smallest amount of water along each section of his skin, gently following up with the cloth. It’s painstaking work, each gasp of pain from Waylon makes him wince. But his hands stay steady.

As soon as he’s done with the water, he grabs a soft towel, pressing it lightly against Waylon’s back, checking for any remaining debris and how badly the blood is flowing. When he hears Waylon make a protesting noise, he scoffs, cutting him off. He can replace the damn thing later.

Luckily, there isn’t as much blood as he feared. He will have to restock the antibiotics after this, maybe even the gauze bandages. There’s very little of Waylon’s back and shoulder that survived unscathed. He really wants to know what happened, but no, not yet.

He finishes treating Waylon’s injuries before standing up, his knees cracking from holding the same position for so long. “That’s all I can do for you. I’ll let you get changed and when you're done, come into the kitchen, okay?”

Waylon nods, but doesn’t turn around until he hears the door close. He’s still in pain, but it’s not as sharp as before. He can’t wait to take something for it. He carefully steps out of the rest of his clothes before reaching for the set Eddie left him. He can’t decide if he’s grateful or not for the spare change of underwear, but doesn’t let himself dwell on it, ignoring the heat of embarrassment spreading across his face. The sweatpants are a little long and the soft button up swamps him, but it’s easier than lifting his arms above his head and he’s so grateful for the thought Eddie put into a set of clothes.

He shuffles into the kitchen where Eddie has a cup of tea and a painkiller waiting for him. He takes both with enthusiasm, sighing in relief. He knows it won’t kick in for sometime, but the warmth from the tea is doing wonders as he settles into a seat.

Eddie is just finishing heating and portioning out some soup for Waylon. He gently, but firmly places the bowl in front of him. “Eat. You shouldn’t have that on an empty stomach and you’ll need your strength to heal.”

He waits until Waylon’s more than halfway through the bowl before he broaches the subject. “Waylon... I’ve been patient, but please, what happened?”

Waylon freezes, averting his gaze. He knew this was coming, but he’s not ready to talk about it. Still, he owes Eddie this, if nothing else. He deserves to know the circumstances of why they’re here now.

He slowly, haltingly, tells him about how Jeremy had slowly gotten more... demanding. The build to tonight. The tension he felt in the car and the fear culminating in his ill advised bail out. He can feel himself hunching in on himself as the story goes on, god, he was so stupid.

Eddie is glad his hands are under the table, his fists are clenched so hard, they’re trembling in suppressed rage, knuckles pale white as the skin stretches over them. He has to clear his throat before he can speak, but a thread of a growl underneath is still clearly there. “Waylon, you did nothing wrong. All the blame lies with Blaire. So, please,” he flexes one hand, loosening it before he reaches across the small table to lightly grip Waylon’s forearm, “please don’t think any less yourself, darling. You did the best you could and I’m so glad you called me for help.”

Waylon makes a small noise of protest, but Eddie shushes him. “I mean it. You’re very precious to me.”

Waylon flushes again, hiding his face. Eddie lets him.

This isn’t the end of this conversation, he knows. But he’s hopeful for the future at least.

An early birthday gift for my darling, dearest Dai! I hope you enjoy it @foxieflower <3!

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #waylon park #eddie gluskin #weddie #my writing #my fic #jeremy blaire

10 notes · View notes

jaimebluesq · 2 years

Note

Do you take requests? Would love a h/c fic with NHS and NIe Zonghui, either gen or preslash. Even better if its injured!NHS during Sunshot.

Or a NHS/Gu Yu fic. Reincarnation? Does he remember his old life and Dage, JC?I’ve only found one and the idea is charming.

Are you on ao3? I think I’ve read some of your CQL fics before there.

Best wishes!

I love taking requests! I'm working on a lot of longer fics at the moment, which is fun in the long run, but leaves me feeling un-productive because I haven't FINISHED anything (so I also don't get that “oooh, comments!!!” dopamine shot and go into withdrawal), so shorter prompts are always a welcome change of pace :D

I think I'll tackle NHS & NZH this time, though I'm going to save the Hikaru No Go crossover for future use (and omg I just had an image of Chu Ying maybe having been alive playing Go back during cultivation days!!!!! Maybe he met NHS, maybe even played with him and definitely Lan Qiren, and when Shi Guang meets Gu Yu, Chu Ying finds he looks familiar, says something that Shi Guang repeats, and that's what kick starts Gu Yu's past life memories!!!! or something lol).

And I'm definitely on AO3 – you can find me there as JaimeBlue and feel free to read and comment on anything you like! I write both Gen and ship-type stuff and am a multi-shipper (and yeah, I'm the weirdo shipping NHS with Jin Zixun), so hopefully there's a little something there for everyone.

Now, on with the fic! (Will also post to AO3 when I finally think of a title lol).

~ ~ ~

Nie Zonghui's heart beat madly in his chest as he flicked the reins of his horse. He had left the sounds of battle behind but he couldn't be certain he wasn't being followed. H didn't want to take the risk, but he needed to stop if only for a few short minutes...

There was a pained whimper from the young man between his arms, who was only just conscious enough to keep himself from sliding off the horse's back, one of his hands loosely holding onto Nie Zonghui's leather bracer. Nie Zonghui decisively led his horse off the beaten path and into a copse of trees that was hopefully far enough from the path that they wouldn't be spotted by anyone passing through. They stopped and he listened for several moments, and only when he could hear no other sounds than the occasional birdsong did his heart begin to slow. He patted his mount's neck in thanks before placing his hands on his charge's shoulders.

“Huaisang?” The boy's eyes opened but were hazy and unfocused. Nie Zonghui felt along an arm whose sleeve was soaked through with blood, more so than when they'd left the battle behind. He carefully dismounted and reached up to take Nie Huaisang into his arms, lowering the boy to the ground and ripping the sleeve off of his robes to better access the injury beneath.

The wound was deep and charred at the surface, the result of a Wen blade whose heat cauterized half the wound as it had sliced into Nie Huaisang's arm, ironically saving the young man from bleeding out too soon. He tried to ignore how he could see what appeared to be bone through the blood and parted muscle, a sight that he'd seen far too often during the course of the war but that still made him feel ill. He focused on tearing up the sleeve in his hands, making strips of fabric that he began tying around Nie Huaisang's arm to keep the skin together and hopefully prompt the deeper part of the wound to stop bleeding, and a final one to place extra tightly above the wound to minimize the flow of blood. Only once he was assured that he'd done all he could for the physical wound did he look into Nie Huaisang's face, which was far too pale and sallow.

His jaw tightened as he pushed back the flow of emotions crawling within him. There would be time enough for those thoughts later when they were safe.

“A-Sang?” Nie Huaisang's eyes blinked, but otherwise didn't react. “I've got you, I won't let anything else happen to you.”

He didn't know if Nie Huaisang had actually heard any of his words, but they made him feel better, at least a little.

He somehow managed to get his charge back on the horse and lifted himself up into the saddle behind him, cradling him between his arms once again as he set the mount to galloping. They were somewhere near Lanling, having been travelling from Qinghe to Gusu with a small but well-armed escort, and he tried to remember his maps for what towns or cities were nearby. He immediately discounted several small villages – they would be strangers and would stand out too much in lesser populated areas, and there was no telling whether the Wen might have spies there – but he remembered a mid-sized city that was within a few hours' ride. He looked at Nie Huaisang and prayed to the heavens that he would make it that far.

He tried not to think of the other soldiers that had come with them, who he'd left behind to fight the Wen scouting party that had looked surprised to run into a group of Nie riders (who had been just as surprised to run into them), but who had still taken advantage of the opportunity to attack them. He hoped the Wen still didn't know the purpose of the Nie presence in the area, who they'd been escorting... Nie Zonghui sent another prayer for his comrades; hopefully they had proven victorious and he would eventually meet up with them in Cloud Recesses.

The sun had half-set by the time they reached the city. Nie Huaisang was growing worryingly cold in his arms and he needed to find a safe place to stay and a doctor to look at the boy's wound. He did quick mental calculations before directing his horse toward the area where they were most likely to find boarding by people accustomed to discretion.

They passed by several potential buildings before finding one that satisfied Nie Zonghui. They rode to the back where a small informal door stood, and he carefully dismounted to knock on it. A beautiful woman in expensive rose-coloured silk robes, parted at the neck just enough to be considered indecent, answered the door and looked at him curiously.

“Welcome, gongzi. We are always happy to see clients, but not often do men come to our back entrance.”

He ignored the flirtatious way she had spoken and bent into a proper bow. “Guniang, we have no need for your house's 'services', merely a room to stay with no questions asked, and a doctor to look after my companion.”

The horse made a small grunt, attracting the woman's attention. She looked to Nie Huaisang's barely conscious body then back to Nie Zonghui, her eyes momentarily focusing on the blades slung on his back. “You're cultivators.”

He stood upright and nodded, waiting to see if she would help them or sell them out. He'd bypassed several other brothels, deeming them poor enough to be willing to sell out well-paying clients for a higher fee. This one had appeared of a higher class, perhaps accustomed enough to rich clients that they had no inclination to turn them in to a higher bidder. He hoped he was right.

She leaned back into the building for a moment. “Have the Pearl Room prepared, and send someone to bring Hu Zihan,” she said to another woman inside before turning back to Nie Zonghui. “Get your friend and come inside. We'll have someone take care of your horse.”

Minutes later, he was laying Nie Huaisang down on a soft bed. His charge had stopped whimpering over an hour ago and Nie Zonghui had been trying not to worry, but seeing him on the pale bedsheets, his skin looked worse than ever. A woman dressed in lavender covered Nie Huaisang with a warm blanket and Nie Zonghui sat on the mattress next to him, brushing the hair out of his eyes.

There was a knock at the door and a serious-faced woman entered with a bag in her hand. The lavender woman greeted her immediately and escorted her to the bedside. “This is Hu Zihan. She mostly serves as a midwife, but also helps us with other serious matters.”

“Give me room to work,” Hu Zihan muttered, waving Nie Zonghui off the mattress; he rose up with great reluctance. “What happened?”

“He took a sword to the arm.”

“This is not the work of a regular sword,” she accused, prodding the blackened and puckered flesh beneath the makeshift wrappings. “Fucking Wen.”

For the first time since leaving the battle, Nie Zonghui's shoulders began to relax.

“Many of our clients are cultivators,” the lavender woman explained at his side, “and one of our sisters was saved from a yao a few years ago. The Jin receive most of our requests these days, but we used to have a local sect...”

“Let me guess,” he replied, “they were absorbed into the Wen.” She nodded.

“I thought your kind were supposed to handle injuries better than this.” Hu Zihan had her fingers pressed against Nie Huaisang's wrist. “I'm barely getting any sign of those golden cores you develop.”

“His cultivation level is very low.” Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help a small, fond smile. “He's not a fighter. He was born into the sect, and trains reluctantly.”

The lavender woman placed a comforting hand on his arm. “He'll be fine.”

“He will,” Hu Zihan affirmed with a professional nod. “I'll need to sew his arm up, and he's lost a lot of blood. He will need to rest for several weeks, though it's hard to tell how long without knowing how much help his golden core will be. But he will live.”

Could they afford to remain here several weeks when they were expected in Cloud Recesses? Could he take the risk of sending word to Qinghe to let Nie Mingjue know they were safe? What if the Wen realized where they were headed and somehow managed to track them here? He thought to the money he had in his pocket, entrusted to him by Nie Mingjue for expenses along their journey, and wondered if there was even enough to stay in the brothel for as long as Nie Huaisang needed to heal.

“Is there something I can call you, gongzi?” the lavender woman asked.

“You can just call me Zonghui.”

She nodded. “While Hu-guniang works, could I borrow you for a few minutes? I thought it would be a good idea to bring a copper bathtub into the room should your friend wish to wash later, but it's far too heavy for me to lift.”

Though he was reluctant to leave Nie Huaisang's side, he already felt nauseous at the thought of watching the healer sewing flesh back together, and so he agreed to the request. He followed the lavender woman to the kitchens and was not just enlisted into moving the bathtub, but several other items from firewood to crates of wine bottles, helping wherever a woman asked for a pair of strong arms. It helped to keep his mind off of everything that had happened that day and he was thankful for the work.

He also had to fend off several flirtatious offers. He made it very clear immediately that he had no interest in such things; after that, they continued to flirt but thankfully in a more teasing manner.

Finally, he was brought back into the Pearl Room in time to watch Hu Zihan closing up her bag. Nie Huaisang was snoring lightly but his colour was already slightly better than when they had first arrived. She gave him a few instructions to follow as well as a satchel of herbs and a pot of cream, and told him to have her brought back if there was any turn for the worse. He thanked Hu Zihan as she left, offering his services to repay the great favour she had done him. She shook her head, patting his chest and casually saying she'd send him a request for help should she run into a ghost or a fierce corpse.

The only woman left in the room was the lavender woman. Nie Zonghui pulled the money pouch from his robes and began handing it to her. “I don't know if this will be enough to cover our stay, but we can compensate for any further debt. Our sect can more than pay whatever we require.”

She pushed the pouch back towards him. “We will keep a tally of expenses and give you a bill afterwards to take to your sect leader. For now, all you need to worry about is your friend. We'll have some food and tea brought in for you, but you should rest as well. Would you like a second bed brought in?”

He almost said yes, worried his presence would disrupt Nie Huaisang's healing sleep, but had a nightmarish vision of a group of Wen bursting into the room and reaching Nie Huaisang before Nie Zonghui was even aware of what was happening. He shook his head. “I would prefer to guard his sleep.”

She nodded and wished him a good rest.

In all honesty, he was exhausted after the long day. As he lay down next to Nie Huaisang, feeling the warmth at his side, hearing the soft, sleepy snuffles that reassured him that the young man was alive and safe, he was finally able to close his eyes... and fell immediately to sleep.

~ ~ ~

“Zonghui?”

He startled awake upon hearing his name. Judging by the light coming through the window, the sun was only just beginning to rise. He turned his head at the feel of a familiar hand on his arm, shaking him gently.

“I'm sorry to wake you, but I don't know where we are and I need to go.”

Nie Zonghui nodded and stood up. When he saw that Nie Huaisang was having difficulty moving without disturbing his injured arm, he reached out to help him to first sit up, then stand. He waved to the corner of the room where a screen had been set up, then crossed his arms as he waited for his charge to be out of sight.

“We're in a town just outside Lanling,” he explained. “In a brothel. They hate the Wen as much as we do so they'll keep our presence here secret.”

“How did we get here?” Nie Huaisang asked from the other side of the screen, tell-tale tinkling sounds accompanying his words.

“We rode. You were hurt when we ran into the scouting group and they attacked. I got you out of there before they could realize who you were and why we were escorting you.”

“And the others?”

His lips tightened. “They were still fighting when we left. They know our destination and should head for Cloud Recesses; we'll meet them there.” If they survived.

He didn't know if the moment of silence on the other side of the screen was a bad sign. Nie Zonghui would never regret the choice he had made – he'd made a promise to his sect leader, and to himself, to protect Nie Huaisang with his life if need be – but he also knew Nie Huaisang and knew he might not see things the same way.

“Zonghui? Can you... help? Please?”

He stepped around the screen to see that Nie Huaisang had removed his outer robes and his pants hung loosely on his hips, held up by his good hand. He shamefully looked at Nie Zonghui as he tried to tug his pants up higher. Nie Zonghui did his best to look professional as he approached the half-naked young man, trying to keep his eyes on the task before him of helping his charge get redressed. He took the little thrill he felt at seeing Nie Huaisang thus undressed and pushed it far to the back of his mind, with all of the other thoughts and feelings the past day had forced on him, to be managed at a more convenient time.

If nothing else, years of working in Qinghe Nie had made him excellent at compartmentalization. He had yet to decide whether it was for good or ill, it simply was.

He was very careful when sliding Nie Huaisang's robes over his injured arm and couldn't help noticing how he winced upon seeing the torn sleeve. Then Nie Huaisang's eyes seemed to take on a mischievous gleam as he looked innocently up at Nie Zonghui.

“Did you cut my sleeve, Zonghui?”

“You're a menace, Nie-er-gongzi,” he accused, but his heart felt lighter. If Nie Huaisang was in a teasing mood, then he was doing much better than when they'd first arrived at the brothel. “How does it feel?”

“It hurts,” Nie Huaisang replied in a familiar plaintive tone. “And I feel a little fuzzy.”

“The healer gave you some herbs last night, and left a few for you to take today. It's probably helping with the pain.” He finished tying up Nie Huaisang's robes and helped to lead him back to the bed.

Once Nie Huaisang was once again comfortably placed on the bed, Nie Zonghui turned, intending to go find one of the courtesans to ask if there had been any other visitors in the night searching for them, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. Nie Huaisang tugged gently, and Nie Zonghui had very little resistance left in him.

“Please? I don't want to be alone.” Nie Zonghui nodded and lay down next to him, and the next thing he knew, he had his arms full of the other man, Nie Huaisang's good arm wrapping around his waist. “Thank you for saving me,” he whispered, sounding more serious than Nie Zonghui had ever heard him.

“I would protect you with my life,” he replied softly, resting his chin on Nie Huaisang's head and closing his eyes. He could smell soap and a trace of the incense Nie Huaisang liked to use, but there was blood and the scent of burned skin as well. His mind unwillingly filled with memories of the battlefield, of the Wen sending fireballs to startle their Nie riders' horses and send the riders falling to the ground. He remembered pulling his twin sabers and fighting the moment the Wen were within reach, stopping when he heard a cry behind him, panicking upon realizing the voice had belonged to Nie Huaisang, leaping to stop an attacker's second swing from doing further damage, holding Nie Huaisang in his arms as he whistled for the nearest horse to stop...

He felt his arms shake; it wasn't until he heard Nie Huaisang murmuring comforting words that he realized he was the one shaking.

“It's all right, Zonghui, we're here and we're safe.” Nie Huaisang seemed to burrow deeper into his arms, and he wrapped them tighter around him. “And we're together. There's no safer place in the world.”

Nie Zonghui began to get control of his shaking and began stuffing the thoughts and feelings to the back of his mind once again, but one kept returning to him, reluctant to be shoved aside. If he'd died, I don't know what I'd do. I would rather die bringing him to safety than to live without him.

That thought too joined the others in its tiny little box where it would wait to be opened and examined.

Some day. But not today.

#nie zonghui #nie huaisang #hurt/comfort #sunshot era #injured nhs #worried nzh #pre-slash

12 notes · View notes

thusatlas · 1 year

Note

#18 for the ask game 👀👀👀

Hallo Anon! Thank you for messaging!

Behind the Scene of Fic Writing ask game

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Fuckening Spoilers for Chapter 16 - Dormiveglia

There is no outline for the Fuckening, only certain plot points that I know have to be reached. One of those was Pansy's death. I knew that her death would act as a catalyst for certain characters, and would also open up another avenue of the Fuckening world (spoilers for part 2... I think).

The problem however, was because I was lacking the aforementioned outline, there wasn't a specific part where Pansy had to die, which meant by the time I was heading into Chapter 14, I was having serious doubts as to whether I should kill her in the first place.

This led to a lot of discussions with family and friends, and one very heated, alcohol-fuelled debate, on the merits of killing characters. One of which being that killing characters had the effect of keeping the readers on edge, and keeping the sense of unease as they go through the story.

This led to the second problem: up until that point, Pansy had been a very minor character in the story thus far. In order to have Pansy's death mean something more than just being a catalyst to the characters, and actually have the desired effect on the reader, Pansy had to come to mean something to the readers.

When I started chapter 16, I still hadn't totally made up my mind about what I was going to do, but one thing I knew I had to achieve was to make the reader fall in love with her.

And so I started, and it was probably the most fun I've had writing in a long while. The tale just unfolded beautifully, so easily. Her personality came through as we went through her backstory, why she became the assassin she was; the reasons why she changed from the fashionista queen to the competent ice queen (who is secretly a massive softy for those she loves).

The other key thing that was needed for maximum effect, was sacrifice and injustice.

And nothing hurts more than sacrifice for a child.

A hero's tragedy - something that isn't often associated with Pansy in fanon.

By the time we got to the fight scene, where she's putting her own life on the line for the child, I wanted her to be a master of her craft. I wanted her to absolutely kick the bad guy's arses. After I'd spent so long making the reader fall in love with her, I wanted them to feel confident that she would survive. She was the main character of her scene, she was the hero. I wanted to build her higher and higher so that if I decided to kill her (which I still hadn't decided at that point) then it would be a long way to fall back down.

I think it's also good to note here that I wrote all of Pansy's scene to this song - Don't you forget about me

The final climax had Pansy and the boy making it to the exit. They'd won, they were just about to escape. This was the highest I could take the scene, the most I could push Pansy's heroics. I had to make the decision.

The deciding factor was something that happened in my own personal life. A few months before, I'd had a death in my family. And along with my thoughts on how grief affects people, one of the things that stood out to me the most about death was how deafening the silence is.

Which led to writing Pansy's death. Death itself isn't cruel. It's unforgiving, yes, but the cruelty of death is how it leaves living questions, how it offers no explanation and just takes. Which is why I didn't write out her death. I didn't describe it. I didn't give the reader the chance to have a cathartic release for her sacrifice. I took it from them, leaving the sentence unfinished when her life ends. It was cruel - the sharpest drop from the highest point in the climax. And it worked. Every violent reaction I have from a reader at Chapter 16 is so satisfying because it's exactly the outcome I set out to achieve, which is why this is the scene I'm proudest of.

#the fuckening #anon answered #ask game #Pansy

0 notes

selene-stories · 2 years

Text

They were aware they were being pathetic.

Villain was feared, respected, warned about- and rightfully so. They had used every type of manipulation on people without a hint of remorse. They'd never let anyone near their heart, which made them doubt they even had one.

Yet, here they were.

Supervillain sat on their throne, looking like proper, untouchable royalty. The only tell otherwise was their irritation that came off in waves. The villains were at a disadvantage, and they had used practically every means in their disposal.

They were still losing.

Villain repeated it in their head, trying to excuse their decision. They tried to convince themself, as they kneeled in front of the master criminal, that what they were about to say was reasonable. Necessary, even. It had nothing to do with how they felt.

A lump formed in their throat regardless.

"Stand up," Supervillain said sharply, and Villain couldn't help a smirk. Just a little one. It felt nice to think Supervillain saw them as equals, even if that wasn't true.

And even if Villain used to plan to stab them in the back.

Their eyes met. Villain wasn't sure where the two of them stood; there was a horrible need that didn't belong in friendship, and obsession, raw lust that had no reason to be called love.

"I have a suggestion." Their voice was, somehow, even.

Supervillain had trouble keeping still- they always did when they were this tense. Villain got rid of the ridiculous urge to massage the criminal's shoulders. They were a villain, damnit. They shouldn't care.

Supervillain gestured for them to continue, and so they did.

"Use me."

Silence. It was fine up until it became charged; Supervillain was literally surrounded by dancing swirls of electricity. Villain forced a smile, even if they were offering themself for the slaughter. It was the least they could do to repay Supervillain after all they'd done for them.

"I know I am an asset," they went on, "I don't care about being used."

Right. As if they weren't desperate, weren't longing for Supervillain to say no, to tell them that they were far more precious than that.

...to tell them that they loved them.

Villain continued, pushing the thought away, voice turning soft.

"Please," they said, and weren't as mortified by it as they thought they'd be. "Allow me to be beneficial to you, even for a little bit."

They were sure Supervillain would snap- though they had no delusions it was because of love. Villain trully was an asset, one that couldn't be used until there was no choice, one that didn't have to be wasted.

And one that was now cupping Supervillain's cheek.

It did nothing to extinguish the vicious fire in their eyes.

"Have me die," Villain whispered, pride be damned, "if that will make you reign, no matter how long it will last." They let their eyes travel, landing on Supervillain's neck. They were tense- more so than before.

But they didn't say no.

Villain blinked away the sting in their eyes, smiled and hoped it wasn't too bitter.

"I won't blame you; we have no choice." They refused to admit that their voice had broken. It hadn't. "And I can't deny that i've been yours for far too long." The confession rolled off their tongue with terrifying ease.

A soft, shuddered laugh sounded, and it took them a second to realise it was their own.

Supervillain opened their mouth, frowning deeply, and Villain let their finger trace the master criminal's bottom lip.

They whispered, "I just want one thing."

Supervillain's eyes never left their own. They seemed ready to give Villain anything.

Willing to let them go.

Villain's throat hurt. They knew it was expected to use all weapons in a war, they knew it. But it did nothing to ease the tightness in their chest.

"I want you to lie," they said, not without a tremble in their voice.

Supervillain's wonderful eyes widened. Villain drank in the sight, and then looked down again.

"I want you to say that I was precious." This was ridiculous, so much so that they found themself smiling. "Tell me I served you well, that at one time, maybe just once...that you felt something for me."

For several moments, there came nothing.

Then their chin was tilted up, their eyes meeting a storm...yet Supervillain's hold was feather light. Villain foolishly wanted it to hurt.

They hated the manipulation and the lies when it was done to themself...but now they wanted it. They craved it if it meant Supervillain's last words to them would be honeyed, sweet and soft, albeit not the truth.

Please.

"Tell me," they breathed, "tell me that you care."

Supervillain's gaze was cutting, so much so that Villain failed to suppress a squirm, but still they said, "I don't mind the lying—"

"I do," Supervillain snarled.

Before Villain could apologize, their attention turned elsewhere; to the softness of lips against their own.

Their breath hitched, and it was the loudest thing in the room aside from their heavy breaths and their heartbeat. Soon enough they melted, and shivered hard when Supervillain took control of the kiss, making it hungrier and fiercer.

Villain's mind went blissfully blank.

This was probably why it took them quite a bit to realise; They were hugging. Actually hugging.

A stupid, ridiculous, utterly absurd sound left their lips.

It was a giggle.

. . .

It could have minutes, or it could have been hours; Villain had never lost track of time to this extent.

They didn't mind.

They were still relishing the way Supervillain was drawing shapes on their arm, as Villain positively melted against them.

They sighed in bliss.

"I won't," Supervillain said at some point. "I am not losing you."

Supervillain could practically pinpoint the second Villain's heart stopped, and restarted twice as fast.

Their Villain had always been so easy to read.

Villain's eyebrows knitted together, "but-"

"We can find another way."

Villain voice turned scolding. "Supervillain."

"Sweetheart," they replied.

Villain flushed.

The other took the chance to run their hand through Villain's silky hair; they were never going to get tired of this.

The sweetheart in question huffed, "You're being stubborn. I was serious."

"So was I," they said casually, as if they weren't talking about heavy sacrifice, but something as simple as picking a cape.

They refused to ruin the moment, especially by bringing heroes and death into the discussion. They could talk about that later, much later.

Villain looked at them in confusion, endearing as always. "Don't you want to rule over the kingdom? Wasn't this your goal, your dream?"

Maybe my dream's changed.

"Of course I do," they said with a shrug.

"But then-"

"Shh," they pressed their fingers against Villain's lips. "We can talk about it later."

Villain eyed them carefully, and then a realisation seemed to dawn on them. Villain's eyes widened, softened, warmed up and melted. And then they blurted out, "You like me."

Supervillain burst out laughing.

"Don't mock!" Vilain said, supressing the urge to stomp.

"What makes you think i'm mocking?" Supervillain asked, amused. "Perhaps I was admiring your observation skills."

Villain rolled their eyes.

They didn't move when Supervillain leaned closer. "I was serious too." They brushed their knuckes over Villain's cheek. "We are in this together. Even if I don't say it often."

Villain released a breath. "You are so sappy," they said, but they couldn't tear their eyes away.

Slightly mortified by their own behaviour, Supervillain snorted and teased, "Only for you."

Predictably, their Villain went a lovely shade of red.

Despite everything- how their world was crashing down, and how victory couldn't be further from their grasp- Supervillain had never felt this whole.

And that alone seemed suspiciously like a win.

#my writing #snippet #heroes and villains #writing #villain x villain #Supervillain x Villain #villains and heroes #team up #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fiction #ficlet #angst #fluff #soft #I really didn't plan for it to be this sappy-#but here we are #enjoy!

219 notes · View notes

downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 3 years

Text

A Night Swim [Leo X reader]

sfw. minor angst. just pretend the Bayverse lair has a pool like 2012 because idgaf lol

Leo had always felt quite at home in the water, were it not too cold. In this "night", which was determined by when the Lair was quiet and asleep, he leisurely swam back and forth, and sometimes, would test to see just how long he could hold his breath underwater.

He'd been alone with his thoughts until he heard footsteps from the adjacent hallway and swam to the edge, resting his elbows on it. He was expecting one of his brothers, but instead you came out, unaware you were being watched closely from the dark water as you passed by the pool. He sunk back down from the edge and kept his eyes on you.

You were totally vulnerable right now, he thought. Easily, he could have grabbed you right then and pulled you in. Nevermind the fact that technically, you were safe in their home, that you perhaps didn't need to be on guard, but the thought still crossed his mind. Years of conditioning to always be aware made him want to use this moment as a learning experience. There was something oddly predatory about watching someone who did not know they weren't alone, he noted.

You'd gone into the kitchen to get a drink. You didn't even know Leo was up, because in reality it was about two o'clock in the afternoon, when usually, they'd all be asleep due to the long night prior. The Lair was dark and quiet, and if you didn't know better, would have assumed it was actually night. As you stepped by, you heard a voice from the water ask, "Do you forget everything you learn as soon as you're here?"

"What?" you yelped in a start, flinching away from the edge of the pool. He'd been there the whole time? Right under your nose, though now that you looked, he was embarrassingly obvious. Following the cool down, you laughed lightly, hiding your face behind your hand just a little.

He lazily kicked off the wall and swam back, still watching you. "Don't assume you're safe just because you're here," he said. "Start making a habit of paying attention, y/n."

Setting the drink down, you looked him in the eye. "Sorry, I didn't realize the boogeyman was going to jump out of the water at me. I'll keep a lookout next time."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, amused smirk. He quickly sunk back under the surface, and suddenly, you had no idea where he was. The last trace of him you saw was the air he that he blew out and bubbled to the surface. He was gone. Almost invisible in the water under the low lighting, which was next to none. Weary, you walked along the side of the pool.

"Cut it out, Leo," you said, folding your arms. You wanted to be stubborn, but really, you knew you were making a conscious decision to play this game with him. He rarely, if ever, you tried to remember, let himself be unrefined around you. Kneeling down, you looked closely at the water, leaning over the edge. Trying to detect a shape moving. All you found was the surface rippling and the small amount of light dancing off the pool's reflection.

From under the water, he lay still at the bottom, weighed down by his shell and looking up at your figure leaning over the edge. You couldn't see him; he knew that. But he could see you.

He shook his head to himself. This little game of his held a dual purpose, but he was actually entertained by how it was going, and after a minute of complete still silence, he struck. He pushed off from the bottom of the pool with such power that he was at the top in only a second or to, beaching the surface right underneath you. He grabbed your arm and swiftly pulled you in with him, breaking your fall and the subsequent splash by catching the rest of you before sinking back down into the water.

Messing you in this way wasn't normal for him. But for the first time since you'd appeared in their lives, he was truly feeling loose. Relaxed enough to abandon his usual rigid principals to play with you, something he had not yet done.

You had to keep from accidentally inhaling water from being submerged so fast. And as quickly as you had gone under, you were back up again, Leo chuckling as you wiped the water from your eyes.

You gave him a light splash in the face. "I'm guessing this is one of your 'teaching moments?'"

He hummed in agreement and looked around idly, as if now that you were here, he was trying to figure out what to do next. Where was he going with this? He hadn't thought through to this part yet. So, he did what felt most natural. He swam to you and circled you partially, waiting for a response, and when you turned with him, he reached for your hand. The water was a little cool, but even then, you could still feel your face warm as his rough hand took yours in his, tugging you toward him. He caught you in his embrace, with his plastron against your stomach. All of this was coming to him on a moment-by-moment basis—the feelings he had were real. Not something he could ignore, and certainly not something he could squash, as much as he'd wanted to before. Slight anxiety bubbled up in him as he kept on, eyes locked on yours uncertainly. He didn't know if this could work. This being you and him. It had already taken him a long time to warm up to your presence in his life. He opened his mouth to try to find something to say, but nothing came.

Was he regretting this?

He came back to his senses. The memories of being told that romance was not a part of their world. There was no rhyme or reason he could stick to this foreign assault of feelings, and the unsure barriers that he'd been made to put up all this time. The walls, they seemed to be dropping against his will; something he felt deeply uncomfortable with.

Shaking himself free of his carelessness, he pushed you away. Not hard, but enough to put distance between the two of you, as if being close would undo all the work he'd put in to stay focused so far.

Your heart panged at the action. He'd pulled you into him, and a second later, had pushed you away almost in the same beat. Leo was unreadable.

Solemn, he averted his gaze, turned half away from you. "I apologize," he mumbled. What was he apologizing for? he asked himself. What exactly? For dragging you in? Getting your hopes up?

You put your hand on his shoulder, light as could be. In honesty, you weren't sure what was going on. But Leo was hardened all of a sudden once again, staring off in a random direction.

"Was I...mistaken? Did I misread the situation?" you asked him, voice soft.

He paused. You hadn't misread it at all. You'd gone along with it to perfection, and if everything were normal, more human, maybe it could have been perfect. He internally argued with himself about whether the clear messages of affection you'd sent him until now had been a mistake. He asked himself whether he was mistaken or not—whether the familiar fluttering he felt in his stomach when you'd touched him was wrong.

He turned to you fully. "I can't always be there for you, y/n. I also can't promise your safety."

Throat tight, you responded, "No one can promise safety, Leo."

"I know you're not stupid, y/n, you understand what I mean. If it were different, I..."

He held onto the ledge of the pool, looking as though he was going to hop out at any second. You kept yourself afloat by his shoulder and wanted him to look at you, but he wouldn't. His demeanor shifted to frustration.

He sighed. Shaking his head, he explained, "I don't have that much of a choice, y/n. This has been my world ever since I could remember. Just me, my brothers, and Master Splinter. In the shadows, protecting all these people who don't see us. Sometimes, I love it. I feel proud of myself and my family. But then I come home to an empty bed, and for some reason, it brothers me!"

His hairless brows furrowed and he blew out a breath through his teeth. "And now you're here, and I have to think about all this shit, like 'can I even do this,' 'what am I supposed—'"

He almost fell back in the water when you wrapped your arms around his neck, no words said. He was so caught off-guard. You rested your chin on his hefty shoulder, feeling the scales of his jaw brush against your cheek. He was taken aback, unsure of what to do and floundering with himself.

"Can we please just try?"

What if it doesn't work?

"Leo?"

I shouldn't get distracted.

"Leo," you prompted him, pulling away enough to see his face.

Arms enveloped your torso. His hand left the the edge of the pool and you both began to slowly sink, though neither of you cared. You couldn't see well under the water, but you didn't need to; all you needed was your sense of touch, and to feel the pair of lips against yours so softly.

#tmnt #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #leo x reader #leonardo x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader

645 notes · View notes

hobipaint · 3 years

Text

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office.

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance.

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning.

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight.

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung."

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them.

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N."

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now."

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you."

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung."

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-"

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?"

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged.

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear.

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of.

"It was me."

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?"

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold."

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?"

"Just said that."

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that."

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same.

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting.

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie."

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could."

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling."

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me."

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him?

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to.

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?"

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it."

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either."

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again.

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?"

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me."

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored."

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on.

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him.

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer."

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings."

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then."

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?"

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me."

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints.

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?"

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail."

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?"

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then."

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office.

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?"

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up.

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you."

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung. "The chief said he'll be here by eleven."

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?"

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?"

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes."

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated.

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue.

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men.

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung.

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright."

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?"

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes."

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused.

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago."

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get.

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it."

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming.

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?"

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun."

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung."

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night."

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone.

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew.

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them.

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight."

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that."

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything.

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked.

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class, the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then.

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal.

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that.

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then.

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that?

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom.

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore.

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do."

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit."

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?"

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you.

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges.

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?"

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change.

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-"

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no."

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no."

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please."

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man.

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away.

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you.

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks.

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget.

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only.

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated.

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people.

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you.

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more.

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you."

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him.

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing.

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision.

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone.

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good.

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go."

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you.

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well."

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me."

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well.

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please."

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief.

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now."

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way.

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face.

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir."

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?"

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years."

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well."

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out."

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside.

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be.

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now."

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly.

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief.

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen.

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window. "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop.

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep."

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?"

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it."

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning.

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough.

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be.

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail."

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it."

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free?

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself."

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now."

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did."

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears.

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured.

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this."

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too."

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn.

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation.

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free.

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support.

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please."

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear.

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best."

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room.

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?"

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her.

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out."

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly.

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?"

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?"

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman.

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you."

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours.

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments.

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there.

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you.

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder.

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well."

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae."

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive.

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day.

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now."

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much."

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies.

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?"

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead.

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?"

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?"

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over."

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine.

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead.

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought.

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

83 notes · View notes

nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Text

RE: JUNGKOOK CHANGED IN RUN

Anon:

Why did Jungkook not want to be on Jimin's team in the last run episode? He has changed a lot from before. Thoughts.

My first thought is, you don't gotta interpret everything in a negative light.

Not every strong reaction is a bad reaction.

I'd be a phony ass fraud if I sat here and told you with my two thumbs that I didn't raise a brow at that moment. I did.

Especially when you contrast that episode with run 112 which falls on all fours with this current situation- ok may not all fours.

But in that video, like many others, RM had suggested they form teams based on the sunglasses they wore, just as he had suggested they form teams based on the seating arrangements.

Of course he'd meant it as a Joke just as we discussed in a previous blog post. Personally, I expected they make a draw, rock papers or even dance in circles like they did in the other episode to decide who got who in the competition.

But it seems in all the times he's been paired with JM he's been supper thrilled about it. He even warned the members not to underestimate him and JM when they'd unanimously concluded they were the disadvantaged team in the game- Jin not even bothering to ask them what their scores were on Korean.

He reset the timer to 10 seconds when Jk pointed out he wasn't good at reading fast

When the time stopped and they were asked to make a team of four, he turned to find JM almost immediately as if to make sure JM was part of the four, he held on to his arm to prevent RM from breaking the link.

He was supposed to pair with Yoongi and Jimin with Tae but he didn't even try to find Suga. At least V did try to find Jimin. He moved towards JM and when he realized JK was hugging him he went for Suga.

Throughout the episode he was giving JM tips on how to cheat and shot when he wasn't sure of the answers.

Yet in the last run, he didn't seem as enthusiastic about being paired with JM- or so, he'd have us believe. Smirk.

He ain't slick. Lol.

To me he seemed, on the surface of it, either really salty about the others having Jin or RM on their teams or upon reflection, just plain ass overcompensating for something.

I'd go with the later.

It's similar to how, Jimin got the Sauna card and he'd complained about not liking the Sauna but then swapped cards with Tae so he could be on JM's team.

Or how he'd make a theatrical show of wanting to win a competition but smirk satisfactorily to himself when he loses.

I really don't think it's a big deal.

Personally, I love watching them paired up and doing such activities. It's a great way to see how they work together as partners and as a team.

It's also a great way for them to spend time with eachother, enjoy eachother, nurture their bond and strengthen their relationship.

Fanservice or not, scripted or not, you cannot deny that spending time together doing activities together is good for building a relationship.

They spend a considerable about of time together off cameras but a lot of their time is spent on cameras and at work.

They gotta find a way to make their relationship work on the work as I keep saying. All that 'fanservice' people say they are doing? That's them making it work. They gotta find a way to go on dates, feed eachother, hold each other's hands, tell Jokes, laugh at eachother's jokes, express their attraction for each other, flirt, share eachother's interests and do things couples do without inviting public scrutiny to their every interaction and invasion of their privacy.

So where they see an opportunity they go for it. For JK it's the the little decisions he makes on their behalf like choosing where they will sleep, what activities they can do together, wanting the bigger room, making sure JM wins the presidential suite, or choosing a room detached from the other rooms.

He invests in his relationship the best way he can. Same goes for Jimin.

I keep saying this whole fanservice culture is a win win situation for them- for even any queer idol couple in the same band.

What seem like a challenge could technically be an opportunity for a date for them without dispatch breathing down their necks.

A typical example would be this. Jimin said he wanted to go get Yoga with the others but ended up going with YoonKook on their brewery excursion.

The more time they spend together, on and off cameras the more closer they get and the more they get to know eachother on a deeper level.

But you have to bare in mind, they need their personal spaces too in order for their relationship to function properly.

Jimin used can be very needy in his relationship but for the most part he enjoys his independence too.

Jk has always had a strong sense of independence but he can equally be quote needy and over attached once he is in a relationship- especially when things are going great for him.

Spending time apart, persuing personal goals and interest is good for them.

If it helps, think of moments when they hang around eachother as Jikook dates and when they hang quietly in the background of videos do think of those as them having their me times at work...

Would they miss an opportunity to 'date' or hang privately with eachother? I don't think so.

It's in their dicks interests and the interest of whole production team and crew to allow them to be around eachother as often and as much as they want and can.

I for one, I'm not prepared to sit through yet another excruciating episode of Jungkook wanting Jimin- physically and emotionally. I'm still dealing with the PTSD from the last BonV four episodes.

Y'all buy me Ko-fi please. I don't intend to sit through that shit sober.

If Jk is pushing to be on JM's team and what not it's mostly because he feels he needs to spend more time with him. If he's not pushing for that it just means he or they are both allowing for space and room in their relationship for eachother to pursue other activities and interests or even connect with other members- unless of course they are having relationship problems which I don't think is the case.

Jimin is particularly good at this.

He goes out of his way to nurture his relationship with the others even on set.

He does this especially with Tae.

He'd take Tae to go see places he and JK had already been to, he'd request to take pirate rides with Tae- even though JK is available and won't hesitate to let him know, he often make plans involving Tae or even the others- in Soop when Tae asked him to go ride around the town with him he chose to stay and manspread on Jin and Yoongi. *I'm cackling. Lmho.

Jimin is a funny guy.

Now does this mean he doesn't like spending time with Tae or that he's changed? Hell no.

Hell, Tae does the same thing from time to time too. I mean when he found out he had picked a Sauna card he asked to swap it knowing very well Jimin had picked that card too. Soulmates coulda soulmated that shit in hot piles of steamy.

Sure JK lurks around sometimes. He is the resident intruder stepping on Jimin's other ships' neck. Love him for this. Lol.

Perfect Disney villian.

Tae had to drag his ass away from the kitchen for intruding when he and JM were cooking in the Kitchen. Let's not talk about him physically removing him from JM's car or all the times he's complained about JK raining on his Vmin agenda.

When V wanted to be on a team with JM this man literally sabotaged him, hugging Jimin first. It's his laughter afterwards for me. Lmho.

V needs to insure his Jimin cos at this point it's trademark infringement. Hashtag soulmates. Lololol.

Jk needs to go ahead and free Vmin.

But JM does this too, in much more subtle ways- I'll never forget the look he had on his face when he had to get off the bus and walk home as punishment. It was the most heart breaking thing I ever seen.

Then he had to hang off Hobi to get JK to leave his friends and come to him.

It's why I used an ellipsis the last time I talked about Jimin being very mature now. Old Jimin would have, clapped back, made JK pay for that outburst if he genuinely thought JK meant what he said or believed JK really wanted to be on a team with someone else.

Y'all don't see him when JK compliments other people? He stays kicking his feet under the table🤣🤣🤣🤣

I used to pinch a gurl I liked when other gals talked to her when I was little- In my defense, I didn't even know I liked her or that it was straight up abuse💀

Jimin can be pretty scary and petty when he's mad or offended.

If it helps you sleep at might, think of this moment as just another one of those 'we've been a unit for so long do you wanna be with someone else now' scene from February last year.

Jk answered yes when JM asked him that. But do you really think he meant it?

Jikook is complex, not complicated.

They love eachother.

We can't be looking at their interactions as either or. Grey areas exist and it's not a negative thing.

Signed,

GOLDY

85 notes · View notes

axolotlwithafork · 3 years

Text

Mysterious Assassin

This story takes place two years after Tommy’s exile. It can be found in my Oneshots book on Wattpad.

Tubbo tapped his foot on the ground, not in a specific pattern, but randomly. He was nervous, today was the anniversary of the day Tommyinnit had been exiled, and he had been asked to speak.

His breathing got quick as he tapped his finger against his horns in tune with his foot. The horns were fairly new, actually, they had started growing after Tommy had been exiled, but they weren't too bad. Sure they reminded everyone of Schlatt, but Tubbo's horns were different. They were a shade lighter than Schlatt's and wasn't too far off from Tubbo's natural hair color. It was nice, they had taken away the need for a helmet and he didn't have to worry about hitting his head on anything. Tubbo chuckled, because in a way the horns reminded him of a simpler time, not a very peaceful time, but a simpler one.

Tubbo released a sigh and reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling up a small pack of cigarettes. He rarely actually smoked, heck this was his very first pack from about a year ago and he had only used three, but it helped with the stress. Since he didn't have any more time to go fishing, smoking had taken the place of pufferfish, due to them being a lot easier to carry around. Tubbo sighed once again as he lit the cigarette, before setting it onto his lips. Phil didn't like him smoking, but even he noticed the improvements that it brought with it. Tubbo didn't snap back as often, had a better time with his anger, and he was actually sleeping a night now too. So Phil allowed Tubbo to smoke, on rare occasions only.

Tubbo released a puff of smoke before he looked down at the time. The memorial would start in a couple of minutes, and his speech would be in about 15, he had enough time to chill for a second. So that's what he did, he let himself chill. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about random things. His VP, Ranboo, had asked if they could create a memorial in L'manburg for all the fallen presidents, but that would mean they'd have to find someplace to put it. Where would it go, and would the citizens be okay with it? Tubbo released another puff of smoke along with a sigh, he'd have to run a poll after his speech to find out what the citizens wanted. He looked down at the cigarette in his hand and tapped a bit of the end off into an ashtray on his desk. That would just be something he'd worry about after the speech, and until then, he could calm down.

He released another puff of smoke as the door to his office opened, and Ranboo himself walked in. His nose wrinkled up in disgust at the smell of the smoke and he walked over to a window.

"You up in 5 minutes Tubbo," Ranboo said as he opened the nearest window

Tubbo nodded and stood up, walking over to the window next to his VP, and opening it. Next to Ranboo the 18-year-old appeared short, but that was just because of Ranboo's Ender genes. In reality, Tubbo was pretty bloody tall, just over 6' 4". He smiled slightly as he opened the window, allowing the fresh air to rush into the room, driving out all the smoke. Once the two windows were open, Ranboo turned to his president and sighed at the sight of the cigarette.

"You really should stop," Ranboo said, gesturing to the bud in Tubbo's hand "You're too young."

Tubbo nodded and leaned on the window seal "I was also too young to be president," Tubbo looked to Ranboo "And yet here we are."

Ranboo chuckled and sighed, looking out the second window "Yep, here we are."

They stood there in silence for a bit before Ranboo cleared his throat.

"We better get going," He said as he turned away from the window "We wouldn't want to be late."

Tubbo nodded and walked over to his desk, where he pushed his cigarette down into the ashtray. Once he was sure it was out, he turned back to Ranboo and smiled, nodding.

"Yep, let's go."

The quiet assassin lied low to the ground, careful to avoid the attention of any people below him. He knew all their names by heart, but even then he wasn't sure who they were.

It had just been so long.

They shook their head, no, they couldn't allow their mind to wander now, they had a job to do. They were here for one reason, and one reason only.

They heard cheering and their eyes immediately snapped to the podium, where the President was, walking up to his stand.

What surprised the assassin were the horns that came from the president's head.

There was no doubt about it now, he had definitely become the next Schlatt, that fact only fueled the assassin's want to kill him. He didn't take his eyes off the president as he pulled back the string of his crossbow, loading it, and aiming it carefully. As soon as the President was done speaking, that's when he'd shoot. Whatever he said in this speech would be his forever last words.

The president tapped the microphone in front of him and leaned down.

"H-hello? Is this on?" He started

Many of the audience members nodded and the president smiled.

"Great! Then I guess we can get started." The president sighed and looked up

The assassin had never thought he'd hear the words that came out of the president's mouth that day.

"Today, we are here to remember Tommyinnit, who on this day, was exiled by myself. A decision which I regret every day." The president sighed and looked down "He was a friend to most of us, and always brought a laugh with him whenever he entered a room. Sure he had a temper, which got him into some shit sometimes, but he always found a way out of it, most of the time."

That last statement causes some of the audience members to chuckle, including the assassin. But he shook it off and re-aimed his crossbow.

"He didn't deserve the judgment that we pushed on to him, he deserved better than we ever gave him." The president sighed and looked back up "Which is why we're here, to remember him, on the day that I made the biggest mistake a friend could make." The president's eyes began to wander, and fell on the assassin "I pushed him away, and lost him."

The assassin and the president made eye contact. The assassin panicked and bumped his crossbow, causing the arrow to go flying. It flew through the air, and the assassin stood up, watching as it made its way to the president, landing right in his right shoulder.

There were screams in the crowd, and the president was pushed away. The assassin pulled up the bandana around his neck to cover his face before running off.

He couldn't complete his mission if the president got away.

He ran and eventually, found the building that they were hiding him in. A quick scan of the building and he found two open windows.

Perfect.

Tubbo slumped down into his office chair and sighed, looking down at the arrow in his shoulder. Ranboo sighed and ran his fingers through his black and white hair.

"Who was that?" Ranboo asked, "Who'd want to kill you?"

Tubbo stayed quiet as his VP went on and on about the assassin. He gripped the arrow in his shoulder and yanked it out of his shoulder with a quiet grunt. That stopped Ranboo from talking and he sighed. “I'll go get the medical supplies," He said, "You'll be okay until then, right?"

Tubbo looked up at Ranboo and smiled "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Ranboo nodded and walked out the door, making sure to close it behind him.

Tubbo sighed and reached over to his desk drawer. He opened it and reached into it, feeling around for the cool metal surface that he had grown so familiar with. He pulled it out and looked down at the compass. He felt the engraved words on the side and smiled sadly. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. He heard the window next to him close as he sighed and lit a cigarette, setting it into his mouth.

He released a puff of smoke before he looked down at the compass, the red needle pointing to his right. He sighed and turned his office chair in the direction of the window, staring at the figure in front of it.

"So," Tubbo said, looking down at the compass in his hand "You've finally found me."

He looked back up at the assassin's face, not finding an enemy's face, but a friend's.

"Dream told me you had burnt that damn compass." The assassin spat out

Tubbo shook his head "I would never," He said, "Someone had taken it and I wasn't able to find it for a good month, but I'd never destroyed it."

The assassin scoffed and leaned back against the window seal, but their eyes were still set on Tubbo.

They pointed to the horns "When did those grow in?"

Tubbo released a puff of smoke before he sighed "About a year after the exile," He said "It took a while to get used to them, but they're not too bad. They're fucking annoying when I'm trying to comb my hair though."

The assassin chuckled and looked out the window as Tubbo took a drag from the cigarette between his fingers.

"You look like shit," Tubbo said, taking the time to notice the assassin's attire

They scoffed "And you look like Schlatt." They said sharply

Tubbo nodded "I do, there's no doubt about that," He admitted with a chuckle

The two sat in silence for a bit, before Tubbo let out one last puff of gray smoke, and smudging out his cigarette in the ashtray.

He sighed and looked up at the assassin.

"So," Tubbo started "You wanna tell me why your here, Tommy?"

Tommy didn't respond but instead looked out the window.

"Because judging by the arrow that you shot in my shoulder, you sure as hell weren't here to catch up."

Tommy nodded and chuckled

Before he reached into his jacket pocket

And pulled out a worn out, cracked, and rusted compass.

Tubbo stared at the object in his old friend's hand, before looking up to meet Tommy's faded blue eyes.

"Wha-"

"Dream told me to keep it," Tommy said

"Why would Dream tell you to keep it?" Tubbo asked

Tommy looked down and the compass in his hands "He told me to keep it so that one day, I'd be able to find you," Tommy finally looked up at Tubbo, meeting his gaze "And kill you."

Tubbo's eyes widened, and he looked down at the wound that the arrow had left, the blood bleeding through the fabric of his suit, before looking back up at Tommy.

"So, that's where the arrow was supposed to go," Tubbo said, "It was supposed to blow my brains out."

Tommy nodded and looked down, before squeezing his eyes shut.

"It was an easy task," Tommy said "But I," He paused and let out a small sob "I just couldn't do that to you."

It was then when Tubbo saw the tears running down Tommy's face, and realized that he was crying.

"Tommy I-"

"No, Tubbo I don't think you understand!" Tommy stood up and walked over to where Tubbo stood "I was so angry and hated you so much that I actually listened to Dream and practically went through with killing you. I listened to that green bastard!"

Tubbo's breathing got faster as he took a step away from his friend fearfully.

"I thought about it for so long, I had it all planned out. You'd been dead within a few seconds if I had just aimed correctly!" Tommy said, "But then you saw me, and suddenly I was having second thoughts." Tommy shouted "I began to second guess myself on something I had been planning for months on end. My hands began to shake while holding a weapon I had become incredibly familiar with, and I still shot you."

Tears were now flowing down Tommy's cheeks as he spoke.

"I shot you." He said quietly, looking down at Tubbo’s arm.

Tubbo looked up at his friend and realized just how broken he was.

"Tommy," Tubbo said, "I don't hate you for what you did."

Tommy looked up, his eyes widening at Tubbo's statement

"But-"

Tubbo covered Tommy's mouth.

"No Tommy, listen," Tubbo said "You have every reason to hate me. What I did to you was a horrible thing to do and no one deserves that."

Tubbo looked up at Tommy and smiled sadly, before pulling him into a hug.

"You can kill me if you want," Tubbo said "I just thought I'd say sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I was a terrible friend, and you deserve so much better than me."

Tommy wasn't quick to respond, he stayed silent during Tubbo's confession and even a few minutes afterward. But despite the tension in the room, Tommy sighed and hugged his friend and gave into his tears.

"I'm so fucking sorry Toby." Tommy cried

Tubbo, despite trying to avoid it, began to cry along with this friend.

"I'm sorry too, Tommy."

Alright, how’d you guys like that one? I had fun writing this.

#mcyt fanfiction #minecraft #tommyinnit fanfic #president tubbo #tubbo #tommy and tubbo #tommyinnit #tommy exile #dream smp #lmanburg #lmanberg #your tubbo #your tommy #minecraft fanfiction #mcyt

103 notes · View notes

justapipe-dream · 2 years

Text

Title: this is how i met you

Chapter: 1/1

Word count: 4469

TWs: implied child abuse, car crash, hospitals

Pairing: Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten

Also on AO3

When you're a child, growing up is something you're supposed to look forward to. Kids should be able to wonder how cool they'll be when they're the size of their parents, how many amazing things they'll have accomplished by then. Parents should be the role models that children can look up to, they should protect them from the dangers lurking outside until they're old enough to protect themselves. Sometimes though, more often than it should happen, the parent is who the kid needs protection from.

Neil had never had the time or the opportunity to let his imagination run free, to think about which job he'd like to have as an adult, or who he'd eventually love. In fact, Neil didn't have much of a concept of love at all. Looking back, he thought perhaps his mom had loved him, in her own overprotective, aggressive manner. But she had definitely not loved his father, and his father had definitely not loved anyone at all. Well, maybe himself.

Neil's father was Nathan Wesninski, also known as "the butcher". He was an enforcer for the Moriyamas, one of the most powerful families in North America. The Moriyamas sought to bring religious meaning to daemons, and they loathed anyone using science to explain them, to explain dust and its intelligent properties. Rumor had it they were attempting to successfully separate human and daemon without any deaths, which would make the person a ghostly version of themselves who would be much more likely to obey their every order. Nathan had made Neil's life miserable to the point that his mom decided to get him out of bed one night and run away with him. Later, he figured out she saved him from being a guinea pig in the Moriyamas' experiments. They'd spend years running from Nathan, but eventually they got caught. On that day, Neil, who had gone by so many other names during that time, managed to escape. His mom didn't, and he never forgot the despairing image of her hawk daemon turning to dust in the back seat. Until that moment he hadn't even noticed she was so badly hurt, but he saw the dooming wound on her abdomen before setting the car on fire with her body in it.

So no, Neil's childhood hadn't been run of the mill. He was forced into making his own decisions when he still needed someone to help him make the right ones. That was probably why he made the very bad decision of enrolling in high school and joining an exy team - there was no one there to tell him not to. Well, that wasn't completely true. Neil had always counted on Drauma's not so helpful suggestions to keep him going when he thought he couldn't. She'd been the one to push him to join the team, but it was probably because she was tired of him moping around. Drauma was a pygmy rabbit, the perfect size to be the devil in his ear, whispering about what he should do, things that, as it usually turned out, maybe he shouldn't have done. And that's exactly why he was currently in this situation. It was his senior year in high school, he'd changed his name to Neil Josten, dyed his hair a boring brown, and also wore boring brown contacts. He was going for the "guy next door" look, there was nothing other people would find memorable about his appearance. With the money he had left from what his mother stole from his father, he paid rent for a small apartment a couple of blocks from his school. Legally, he still couldn't be living alone, but so far no one had found it weird that his parents were out of town so often. The day someone questioned that would be the day he had to get a new name and move on.

Anyway...

Neil was sitting at a table outside a cafe, with his flat cap and sunglasses on despite the cloudy weather, doing absolutely nothing outside of the ordinary - unless you counted drinking plain black coffee something extraordinary, in which case he was guilty as charged. There was a peculiar animal across the street. They weren't a cat, but were definitely in that family. They had long legs and broad paws, their fur was dense, and their ears had black tufts at the tips. But perhaps the most obvious difference between this animal and your regular cat was the tail - it was so small it looked proportionally weird on their lanky body. Neil had never seen such a creature.

"Not just a creature," Drauma chided from her perch on his shoulder, "that's a daemon. Can't you tell?"

Neil frowned. He then tried moving his head inconspicuously to take a better look. He still couldn't tell the big cat with the short tail was in fact a daemon and not just a big cat with a short tail. Upon further notice though, they did look unusually upset. The daemon had an expression of shock that no normal animal could make. Their eyes were scanning everyone on the terrace, and then the searching gaze settled on Neil. He didn't quite understand why, but when the daemon turned around and started walking, Neil had a feeling he was supposed to follow. That feeling was strengthened by Drauma's urgent nudge. So, having practically no other choice, he followed.

The scene he came across when he turned the corner was nightmarish. A crowd of concerned individuals was gathered around what was clearly the aftermath of a terrible car crash. It instantly reminded him of the car engulfed in flames he'd left his mother's body in. Neil didn't resist the pull, and he pushed through the people until he got close enough to assess the situation. There were two people in the car smashed against the lamppost, the big cat-looking daemon sat next to the passenger's side, and he couldn't see the driver's daemon anywhere. Granted, they could be small enough to be trapped inside with her, but most likely they'd already gone up in dust. With the daemon's heavy stare still locked on him, Neil rushed to the door on the passenger side and frantically pulled on it.

"Call 911, what are you waiting for?" He all but yelled at the bystanders who much preferred to look and gasp than to help. Finally, after yanking on it so hard his arm was throbbing with pain, the door opened. The boy inside was not wearing a seat belt. His head was resting on the dashboard and there appeared to be no blood on it, but his left arm was bent at an awkward angle. He was also not entirely unconscious, judging by the way his hazel eyes were slowly blinking open and the way he flinched when Neil touched him.

Drauma chose that moment to get down from his shoulder and approach the stranger's daemon, who was stoically standing somewhere to Neil's right. He wasn't sure how they had escaped the car, or how they were able to get so far from their already injured human to go search for help.

"Hey, hey, he'll be fine." The pygmy rabbit reassured the big cat. While she was trying to comfort the daemon, Neil made an attempt to comfort the human. He knew some people found comfort in small touches, so, attributing the flinch from earlier to surprise rather than fear, he held out his hand with the intention of patting the stranger on his good shoulder, but he was interrupted by the daemon's threatening growl before he could make contact. He immediately took back his hand. Neil knew he wouldn't like to have some random person touch him when he was vulnerable, either. The action seemed to appease the big cat enough for them to stop growling.

"Help is on the way, just stay awake." Neil settled on saying.

Truthfully, Neil hadn't known whether or not help was on the way, but as luck would have it an ambulance appeared shortly after. As Neil had suspected, the paramedics swiftly pronounced the driver dead. They had a trickier time getting the other passenger out of the car, though. The boy looked half a second from passing out, but that didn't stop him from trying to shove away the professionals doing their job. Neil, worried and almost in a panic, tried to help by reaching out. Once again though, as he was about to touch the passenger and move things along, the daemon intervened:

"Don't." The soft, barely audible rebuke came from a distinctively feminine voice. The feline daemon unhurriedly sauntered towards his human, snout stopping just short of his face. She whispered something into his ear that made him go limp, and the paramedics finally managed to carry the boy into the ambulance.

"Go with?" Drauma, who up until that point had been silently shadowing the other daemon, voiced the question that had already taken place in Neil's mind. He got up from where he was kneeling on the surface of the road and approached the emergency vehicle. The paramedics noticed the movement and shouted at him without stopping what they were doing.

"If you're not family, you can't come!" They yelled. But the other boy's daemon had clearly taken a liking to Neil, or she just didn't want her human to be alone with people who might not understand his boundaries as well as Neil had shown he could. "He is," was her short answer, and then they let him step into the back of the ambulance without questioning it further. The fact was that a daemon speaking directly to humans who weren't their own was extremely rare. Because of that, when they did so they tended to be taken seriously. Neil didn't know what he'd done to earn the big cat's trust so quickly, and he wasn't about to ask.

***

Andrew thought he was dead. He couldn't hear anything except for the static in his own head, he couldn't feel anything even though he remembered getting seriously hurt, and all he saw was white. But he quickly realized he couldn't be dead - Virika had her head on his chest. If he were dead she wouldn't be there at all, she would have turned into dust. Sometimes Andrew wondered if his daemon had ever thought that not existing would be better than an existence next to him. He knew what he'd put her through, for so many years in all the different but equally terrible foster homes. He knew how much it hurt her to have been given hope that a life with Cass could be good, and then have that hope taken away by an evil man with a sadistic daemon. Andrew had been the one to be physically hurt, but Virika had to helplessly watch while he was... Well. He just thought that maybe she sometimes hated him for making her live through that. Even after Andrew acknowledged that what had happened to him hadn't been his fault, that the only people to blame were those who hurt him, he kept on wondering.

And now he'd hurt her again. Andrew had made a promise to a twin brother he barely knew, a promise to protect him from the mother he'd never had. He hadn't missed out on much. Tilda was aware of the consequences of laying a hand on Aaron or his bobcat daemon, Nyani (the fact his own daemon, a lynx, had settled as an animal of the same family as his twin brother's hadn't escaped his notice). And Andrew had the chance to keep that promise when Tilda tried to hit him in the car, thinking he was Aaron, and so he purposefully leaned over her and turned the wheel all the way to the left, making them hit a lamppost. She had been speeding, so it was disastrous. He hadn't cared that he also could have died. In fact, he was counting on it. What Andrew wasn't counting on was waking up with a guilty conscience because he'd once again put his daemon in a dangerous situation.

A door slamming shut captured his attention. Aaron had come running into the hospital room, speak of the devil, with Nyani trailing after him not nearly as worried as he was. His worry wasn't for Andrew, not really. He was worried for his mother, and his face was set on a very aggressive expression because Aaron had already figured out her death hadn't been just a terrible accident. His daemon didn't look mad at all, most likely because she understood that getting rid of an abuser wasn't something to be saddened by.

"What did you do?" His twin demanded to know, jaw tight, pulsing neck vein and balled fists. He wouldn't hurt Andrew, at least not physically. Mean words were usually his weapon of choice.

"Hello, brother," Andrew taunted, raising one eyebrow sarcastically to make his twin even more annoyed. "Why yes, I'm fine, thanks for asking."

Smoke could almost be seen coming out of his brother's ears, but Aaron eventually took a deep breath once Nyani put her paw on his leg in an attempt at comfort. Sometimes their closeness made Andrew jealous, not that he'd ever admit it out loud. Their trauma brought them closer instead of driving a wedge between them, as it had done to him and Virika. That one small, reassuring pat on the knee made Aaron quit glaring and slide to the floor, pulling his knees against his chest and hugging them tight like the grief-stricken child he was. Andrew relaxed back against his pillow, looking at the plain white ceiling and pretending he was all alone. Time passed.

Aaron suddenly seemed to have remembered something. He raised his head abruptly from where it was resting against his knees. "There's a guy outside!" He blurted, looking at Andrew as if he had all the answers. He didn't, and he had absolutely no idea who his brother could be talking about. Virika, however, stood to attention for the first time since he'd woken up and she seemed...guilty.

"Who is it?" Andrew asked her directly, shoving her off the bed and ignoring Aaron's outraged look at the violent gesture. Being a fairly big creature, she wouldn't have allowed him to push her if that bothered her. Andrew was no match for her strength, usually. Instead, Virika decided to take advantage of being back on the ground and trotted to the door. She turned her head towards Aaron, and demanded:

"Open it."

***

Neil had been in the waiting room for a while. The guy's daemon hadn't intervened on his behalf again, so he hadn't been allowed in to see him. The plastic chairs were hard and uncomfortable, and Drauma made sure to complain about them every time Neil made her get down from his shoulder and stay on one. The lounge was nearly empty by the time someone stepped out of the other boy's room. It was the big cat daemon, closely followed by the doppelganger he'd already seen arrive, who in turn was followed by another, shorter but very similar feline daemon. The trio stood there staring at Neil for a minute until the guy who was clearly the patient's identical twin decided to speak up.

"What are you standing there for? If you're going to stick your nose into other people's business at least do it from inside."

The rudeness wasn't surprising, the blond, short guy had a face that seemed to be permanently stuck in a frown. It wasn't welcome, though. Neil had done nothing wrong, had done nothing at all except follow a stranger's daemon to a car crash and help get the human out of there. The opposite of wrong, if you asked him (which no one ever did). Nevertheless, he grabbed his own rabbit daemon, held her close to his chest even though she didn't usually need his protection, and followed the guy into the room.

Inside, the white of the walls and the smell of some kind of disinfectant like hydrogen peroxide was overwhelming. The boy from the accident was sitting up in bed dressed in a white and green hospital gown that looked entirely too big on him, wearing a shoulder cast. He was also staring at Neil with an intensity that had him squirming. It felt like being judged before even introducing himself. Fortunately, the patient's daemon decided to break the silence, once again with a breach of etiquette when it came to directly addressing humans other than her own.

"This is Andrew," she announced, nodding towards the boy on the bed, "and that's Aaron. My name is Virika, and the smaller version of myself over there is Nyani." While Neil was not at all surprised that the daemon had spoken to him, since she'd done it before, Andrew looked almost amused by her outburst. Then, in a mocking tone, he said, "Well, she's spilled the beans. It's your turn now." His mouth was turning into a strange, vaguely unnatural, lopsided smile. It looked funny, but Neil knew forced smiling meant 'proceed with caution'.

In about a minute he had determined the boy on the bed wasn't someone to be messed with, mainly based on facial expressions and the detached relationship he seemed to have with his daemon. He couldn't forget that by leaving the site of the accident to go get help, Virika had to travel too far from her human for theirs to be a natural bond. Having that kind of independence from his daemon would have been incredibly useful, would probably still be incredibly useful, to Neil on the run. But he wasn't jealous - being able to force a bond apart in such a way wasn't good news. Only a very traumatic experience that had forcefully required them to be separated could have caused that kind of permanent stretch, the kind of thing the Moriyamas were experimenting with, and no one would willingly go through that. Neil had gone through his fair share of trauma, but nothing that had come close to that. Besides, Drauma was the only thing keeping him sane most days, and he couldn't imagine her not being there.

"I'm Neil," he started, hesitating on whether or not it would be smart to reveal his daemon's name to a stranger. Eventually, though, he determined it was a fair trade. He set his rabbit down on the floor and said, "and this is Drauma."

"That is one tiny rabbit..." Aaron mocked from his spot leaning against the wall. Drauma, who'd been cautiously jumping around the room to investigate it, turned her attention to him and sneered.

"Your opinion has been duly noted, and immediately discarded." She taunted, turning her back on him to continue looking around the room with her searching gaze. Old habits died hard.

Neil almost chuckled at her forwardness, but caught himself in time to notice that Andrew was also trying to hide the upturn (natural this time) of his lips. "Because we're so tall, dear brother?" He inquired. It was a hypothetical question, Neil was small but the twins were even smaller, which was a feat. But what Andrew lacked in height he made up for in presence. His brother, however, seemed to be small in more than one aspect.

Aaron clearly didn't like to be ganged up on, because he crossed his arms and left the room sulking, Nyani not far behind him. Andrew stared after him until the door closed, then he slowly turned his head towards Neil. Every single thing he did was accompanied by a menacing aura, and it made Neil's hair stand on end. But Drauma didn't have the same alarming feeling when it came to Virika, they were ignoring each other's presence as if their humans weren't staring each other down.

"So..." Neil started moving towards the bed so he wasn't talking from across the room, but he didn't get too close because the big cat offered him a growl in complaint. It was the same sound she'd made by the car when Neil tried to use touch as comfort. So he stopped walking, standing far enough away that it couldnt be considered an intrusion on Andrew's personal space, but not so far that he had to raise his voice when speaking. He might have imagined it, but he thought he saw the other boy raise an eyebrow in surprise when he respected the boundary. "I should probably go."

***

The idiot was attractive. Why did he have to be attractive? His clearly dyed brown hair and boring brown contact lenses should've taken away from that attractiveness, but they didn't. Not when Neil had that bone structure, that mysterious gaze, that tanned skin... Andrew swore he saw Virika giving him a knowing look when the guy came into the room. She'd seen him first. Heck, she'd chosen him. And Andrew had thought that maybe his daemon decided to get help by looking for a stranger he'd find visually appealing, but that would be stupid, and she wasn't stupid. No, she'd chosen him because for whatever reason she thought Neil was someone who respected boundaries. And his daemon was right, as she so often was.

Neil's daemon, and he hated to agree with Aaron on anything, was a very small rabbit that could fit on the palm of his hand and looked deceptively harmless. She wasn't harmless, because she wasn't afraid to speak to directly to other humans, something Andrew had only seen done by his own daemon. And Drauma was definitely not conservative with her words. It didn't quite make sense, not taking into account Neil's impassiveness, and acting like he'd bolt at the first sign of a threat. So Andrew suspected that deep down, the other boy's personality was far more like his daemon's than like the mask he was putting on.

"So... I should probably go."

Neil's words snapped him out of his thoughts. Andrew was taken aback by how much he didn't like the thought of the stranger leaving. "Why, do you have somewhere to be?"

Virika huffed. "I doubt that," she commented. "Come with us instead." The request surprised Andrew, even if he didn't let it show. They didn't make a habit of handing out invitations to people they barely knew. Some would say his daemon made the offer because she wanted to pay Neil back for having helped save him, but that wasn't it. She had a hidden agenda, clearly, and Andrew was going to make her share it the second they found themselves alone.

Neil looked to Andrew for confirmation that what his daemon was offering was okay to take, and that simple gesture of respect made him sigh and nod. Drauma had gone still and was looking up at her human, waiting expectantly for his answer.

"Neil... We could." The small daemon pleaded, and it seemed like she was desperate for something. Maybe she was tired of them being alone, as Neil didn't look like someone who trusted enough to be a social butterfly. Maybe she wanted to escape from whatever situation they had happening at home, such as evil or neglectful parents. Andrew didn't know, and it was imperative that he found out. Eventually.

"Yeah, I guess we could."

***

As soon as he was discharged, Andrew had Aaron drive them to what Neil thought was their house. The twins didn't look much older than him, so he thought they'd probably still be living with their parents. When they got to the house, though, they were greeted by another, only slightly older man that had way too much energy. He introduced himself as Nicky and seemed extremely happy to have a guest. Weirdly happy. The man also said he was the twins' cousin, even though they looked nothing alike. While both the brother's daemons were feline, Nicky's daemon was some kind of squirrel. A flying squirrel, his brain supplied after spotting a membrane going from wrist to ankle. Nicky did not introduce his daemon, but it was probably more out of forgetfulness due to excitement than not wanting to give up the name.

"Tell me again why we brought this unknown guy into our house when you were almost killed and we have a funeral to plan?" Aaron asked, clearly upset. But he didn't wait around for an answer, stomping his way to the open kitchen like a child about to throw a tantrum. Neil suspected all the sulking wasn't just because of his presence, but also some unresolved tension from the accident that he couldn't quite figure out.

"Drama queen." Drauma commented, snug in Neil's arms. He wasn't about to let her roam freely with three strangers and their daemons in a strange house.

"You don't know the half of it..." Virika remarked from where she was sitting against Andrew's knees. Andrew himself didn't look worried. In fact, he looked like he was already bored. He gave them a one shoulder (the good shoulder) shrug and started walking towards the living room. Not knowing what to do, Neil followed him. The living room wasn't big. The whole house, despite having two floors, wasn't at all big. He was used to staking out places, observing them, taking mental notes of everything, and nothing about that house seemed out of the ordinary. At least on the first floor. Neil just about managed to hide his flinch when he was pushed to sit on the couch, Andrew settling down next to him but still keeping his distance.

"You and I," Andrew started, grabbing a couple pillows to put behind his back and offering Neil another one, "we're going to play a game." Virika hadn't followed him to the couch, choosing instead to lick her paws and clean herself, like a house cat would, still by the front door. Drauma started squirming in Neil's lap, so he reluctantly put her on the floor. Curiously, she tried hopping towards the other daemon but couldn't go very far before starting to feel the painful pull on their bond. She didn't push it.

"What kind of game?" Neil asked, slowly turning his head away from Drauma and facing Andrew. The other boy gave him that forced looking grin again and leaned in to whisper in his hear:

"I ask, you answer. You lie, you're out of here. You tell the truth, you get to ask me, too."

That was no good. He didn't know how Andrew could tell if he lied or if he didn't, but he believed that if someone was a walking lie detector it would be him. There were many truths he couldn't possibly give him, even if he was oh so curious to get some answers from Andrew too. Honestly, what had Neil gotten himself into?

Notes:

credit to philip pullman for the concept of daemons and to nora for these amazing characters

daemons:

neil josten - pygmy rabbit

andrew minyard - canadian lynx

aaron minyard - bobcat

nicky hemmick - northern flying squirrel

#andreil #daemon au #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #neil josten #tfc #aftg #ao3

6 notes · View notes

maysbanks · 4 years

Text

hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

226 notes · View notes