#(that gift wasn't even POSTED when I first made those links??)

[cybrsan]

Miracle Of The Season — J.JK

STORY SUMMARY: Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

PAIRING: Angel Jungkook x Fallen Angel F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, smut ; second chance romance, angel AU, soulmate AU

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: Heavy themes of religious trauma, an initially negative view of Christianity transforming into a more neutral/respectful view of individual faiths, initial dismissal of other religions, difficult self-growth journey, homelessness, very brief mentions of murder and rape

OTHER/NSFW WARNINGS: Sharing one-bed trope (kinda), mistletoe trope (teehee), first time, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, unprotected sex

A/N: This is a lot. The story definitely got away from me, but I think that's because there was so much I wanted to say. I definitely could have made this longer, and if I had time/wasn't such a slow writer, I probably would have. It's a heavy topic, but it's one that is near and dear to my heart and one that I think a lot of people can relate to. If you do, I hope this story feels a bit healing.

A/N 2: This is based on the vibes of his song "Standing Next To You" and the m/v for it.

LINKS: Part of the Jingle All The Way! collab with my talented, wonderful friends. Cross-posted on AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad. Banner made by the lovely @kithtaehyung.

"—let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

You take a deep, calming breath as you pass the carolers. Their cheerful voices grate on your nerves, but you keep your head down and continue walking. Lashing out at them won't do any good, even if it might give you a moment of satisfaction. It's not like they're the source of your irritation anyway; the crowded streets are abuzz with the unrelenting chaos of the Christmas season, and you have been on edge all morning. 

Turning a corner, you enter a street closer to the shelter you have been calling home for the past year and a half. Immediately, some of your tension dissipates, and you feel like you can breathe a bit easier. There are fewer lights here and less noise, but a few decorations still attract your attention, like a moth to a flame. A nativity scene is proudly displayed in someone's window, and you stop dead in your tracks.

"Freedom of religion, my ass," you mutter bitterly as you tear your gaze away. Why does everyone and their mother seem to celebrate this stupid holiday? 

You know that for many, Christmas isn’t necessarily a holy season. Some humans just use the holiday as an excuse to wear obnoxious sweaters, play the same song on repeat, and spoil one another with gifts. Yet reminders of the celestial realm, of the life you have been cast out from, are everywhere. The nativity, for one. Then there are the carolers singing their songs, and the cartoonish cherub decals that can be found on shop windows, holding banners that proclaim, “Buy one, get one 20% off!” Even the name of the holiday is marked by one of His monikers. Christmas. 

It makes you sick. 

The weather doesn't help, either. Drawing your coat more tightly around yourself, you try to ignore the relentless chill that settles deep in your bones. You’re definitely not dressed warmly enough, ill-prepared considering the sensation of being cold is something you’re still getting used to. It is yet another item you have added to your ever-growing list of "whys.” The question of why God created snow joins the ranks of "why did He make spiders?" and "why is He the most selfish being in existence?" 

You sniff. Perhaps you let your emotions get the best of you at times.  

Emotions. Another thing that’s somewhat new. As an angel, you didn’t really have those. The only thing you ever thought about was following orders and how better you could praise His name. Ugh. It’s hard to believe now that you were ever so single-minded. Though, towards the end, you suppose that wasn’t the case. It all went awry when you started this “list” of yours—when you started questioning things. 

The moment that doubt had first crept into your mind seems like a lifetime ago. Reaching the status of archangel was something you had been working toward for millennia. It was a position that allowed you to work more closely with humanity; you were able to actually guide their paths and alter their destiny. 

At first, it was everything you had ever wanted. The miracles that occurred because of your intervention made you feel like you were doing something worthwhile. But you quickly learned that not all of your missions would be quite as fulfilling. 

You will never forget the first time you were put in charge of administering a holy test. The man had done nothing wrong, yet your higher-ups still insisted that he needed to be "tried by fire." The divine reasons were beyond comprehension, or so you were told. But watching the man suffer as everything he loved was taken from him, seeing the desperation and despair in his eyes… It felt wrong. That feeling stayed with you even as you watched the man's faith remain unbroken. Somehow, that made it worse. 

And then there were those who committed sinful acts and escaped punishment. You saw murderers and rapists living their lives in peace while innocent souls suffered unjustly at their hands. The scales of justice seemed unfairly balanced, and you began to feel crushed by the weight of your guilt.

Thus, the degradation process began. For the longest time, you thought it was a myth, a scary story told to keep angels in line. If you doubt, if you disobey, you begin withering away into nothingness. You'll start to feel things, to lose your sense of purpose. It will be painful and overwhelming and, eventually, you'll cease to exist entirely. You were told that if it were to happen, you must report it to a superior at once. But you were terrified. 

There was only one person you trusted enough to share the way you were feeling—your other half, your celestial counterpart. The one who knew you like no other did. Your Astrom, Jungkook. 

There is an old celestial folk tale that documents the first creation of an Astrom pair. It is said God took one star and split it into two. Neither half could live without the other, nor would they want to. It is difficult to describe the way you felt for him, as angels are devoid of personal desires or emotions as humans experience them. It was simply as if being with him was as natural as breathing. He was the only being other than the Creator that you felt beholden to, that you admired. 

When you first revealed your doubts to him, he simply listened, displaying a level of patience that you found comforting. He answered your questions about morality, about justice as best he could, trying to reassure you that everything happened for a reason. Yet no matter how persuasively he argued, your doubts wouldn't go away. 

Eventually, you began to start contemplating letting yourself fall from grace. The thought was terrifying, but at the same time, there was a certain allure to it. To Fall meant to renounce your celestial responsibilities, and that included no longer having to inflict pain on innocent souls. 

When you confessed this dangerous thought to him, Jungkook gave you a look that you couldn't decipher. All you remember is what he said next: "If you Fall, I shall Fall with you."

His words had been unexpected, and you didn’t know whether to take comfort in them or not. You didn’t want him to share your fate, to bear the burden of your guilt. Could you live with yourself if he Fell too? The answer was an obvious no. But the mere thought of being alone in your struggle was something you couldn’t stomach either. So, you attempted to keep your dissent to a minimum and perform your duties as required. But it wasn’t long before everything fell apart regardless.

Eventually, you were discovered and brought before the celestial court. You were accused of blasphemy since questioning Him was an unforgivable sin and sentenced to Fall, to be cast out from the life you have always known. Yet, the real blow came when you found out who had betrayed you. 

Jungkook.

Your Astrom. 

The one you had trusted implicitly, the other half of your celestial star, had betrayed you in the name of divine loyalty. The pain of the Fall, the feeling of your grace ripped from your body, the scorching burn of your wings as they turned to ash—none of this could compete with the raw, gut-wrenching anguish of his betrayal. 

Even now, months later, remembering makes you feel as if you can't breathe, as if you might die. Every memory of him is like a punch to the gut, and the city, so full of noise and life, does nothing to drown out the agony. Some days, the pain is so vivid and unbearable that it feels as though you are Falling all over again.

A rough shove against your shoulder makes you stumble, and the man who ran into you barely grunts out an apology before continuing past. At least the disruption is a timely one, allowing you to pull yourself out of your thoughts before you spiral. There’s no point focusing on the past when there’s nothing you to do to change it, especially not when you have a myriad of new human concerns to deal with.  

Your job hunt was, once again, unsuccessful. You keep telling yourself that it’s because it’s so close to the holidays and you’ll have a better chance once the new year comes. In reality, you’re sure it’s because you have no experience, no schooling, and no useful knowledge.

At least you’re familiar enough with the city now that zoning out didn’t prevent you from getting to your destination. 

Lost Star Shelter.

The place you’ve been calling home. It’s certainly not perfect, but little on Earth ever is. You feel awful stepping past the crowd of people waiting outside its doors, knowing that they, like you, have nowhere else to go. You've been fortunate enough to secure your spot due to your volunteering efforts and the fact that the manager, Naomi, seems to have taken a liking to you. But not everyone is so lucky. 

You step inside, greeted by the familiar smells of disinfectant and something cooking in the kitchen. The place is buzzing with activity as usual—mothers trying to soothe crying children, elderly folks chatting away in groups, and a few lone souls quietly scrawling job applications. 

"Long day?" Naomi catches your gaze from behind the front desk, her warm smile a stark contrast to the weariness etched in the lines of her face. 

"Isn't it always?" You head over and pick up the clipboard she slides toward you, scanning your list of tasks for the day. As expected, it's long hours of mindless labor, but you don't mind. Not only do you need to earn your place here, but volunteering gives you a sense of purpose similar to your previous heavenly duties. And you have the satisfaction of knowing you're actually helping, not harming.

"First on the list," Naomi points to an item at the top of your clipboard, "is the donations room. We just had a big drop-off and could use some extra hands sorting through it all. But grab some dinner before you start, okay?"

You nod, her straightforward nature getting a slight smile out of you. "Yes, ma'am."

You navigate your way towards the crowded dining area, where a line of people has formed, waiting for their turn to get served. The cooks, all volunteers like yourself, are bustling about, serving portions of the day's meal which looks to be a thick stew accompanied by fresh bread. The food is simple but hearty, more than enough to keep you working through the evening. You make a mental note to slip into the kitchen later and thank them for their hard work.

You find an empty seat at one of the long tables that occupy the space, making yourself at home amongst the people who are engrossing themselves in their meals or with idle chatter. You even join in on a conversation with some older women across the table, who are engaged in a spirited debate about soap operas. Your knowledge of pop culture is sparse at best, but they seem delighted to fill you in on the latest drama, their laughter infectious. 

After your meal, you make your way towards the donations room. The sight of piled-up clothes, toys, blankets, and other items is both overwhelming and heartwarming. Naomi wasn't kidding when she said they'd received a large drop-off. It's a daunting task, but you roll up your sleeves and get to work. You start by sorting through the clutter, meticulously separating everything into various categories—men's clothes, women's clothes, children's clothes, etc., and items that need repairs or cleaning. Hours pass by unnoticed, the rhythm of work almost meditative.

Your thoughts inevitably wander back to Jungkook. A pang of longing shoots through you. He was the one who would always be by your side when you had to perform menial tasks like this in the celestial realm. You wonder what he would think of your new life. Does he look down on you from up high with pity or disdain, or does he simply not think of you at all? You aren't sure if you even want to know the answer. 

As time wears on, the room gradually becomes less cluttered and more organized. You're just about to take a break when Naomi appears at the doorway, her aging features softened by the warm glow of the hallway light behind her. She takes in your progress with an approving nod. 

"You've done well," she says, stepping into the room. 

You can't help but feel a sense of pride at her words. "Thank you, Naomi." 

She strolls around the room, her observant gaze sweeping over the sorted piles, her hands touching a few items here and there.

"It's amazing," she finally says, "how much kindness there is out there, even when it seems like everything is falling apart. No matter how rough things get, we can choose to be generous, choose to help others. That's what makes us human."

Her words resonate with you. You’ve seen the worst and best of humanity firsthand; the same species that wages wars also unite in times of crisis, offering support and showing kindness to total strangers. How much is influenced by higher powers and how much is purely human nature, you wouldn't presume to know. Your very existence has blurred the lines between supernatural influence and mortal will. 

"True," you say, looking up at Naomi from where you're still seated on the floor surrounded by donations. "That’s a nice way to look at things."

Naomi's smile broadens at that, and she gives one last cursory glance around the room before saying, "Well, I'll let you get back to work. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, Naomi," you call after her as she steps out into the hallway, half-waving at you as she goes.

A little over an hour later, you step back to admire your work. Each item has been categorized, ready to be cleaned and redistributed. You move on to your next set of responsibilities: cleaning up the common areas and helping close up for the night. 

The smell of cleaning supplies clings to your skin as you make your way back to your sleeping quarters—a small, shared room filled with single beds. Careful not to disturb anyone, you move towards your assigned bed, its familiar creaks and groans echoing softly under your weight as you settle into it. Exhaustion pulls at your muscles, but you need to wash up and change before you sleep. 

You grab your shower caddy, change of clothes, and quietly make your way to the women’s bathroom. The fluorescent white lights flicker to life as you enter, revealing a row of curtained shower cubicles. You choose one at the end and let the water heat up as you undress. The hot water cascades over your tired body, soothing your muscles and washing away the sweat and grime that has built up throughout the day. 

Shower done and teeth brushed, you pull on fresh clothes and make your way back to your bed. As you settle back down under the covers, you notice something strange on your bedsheet. A crisp scorch mark is visible against the fabric, and when you observe it more closely, you're shocked to realize that the shape almost looks like… fingers? Your heart hammers in your chest. 

"Impossible," you whisper to yourself. 

The sight of these burns is not unfamiliar to you; in fact, you have been the cause of such marks before. It is a common occurrence when celestial beings interact with the mortal world—remnants of their powerful energy left behind. But as you stare at them now, a sense of unease creeps over you. Could it be Jungkook? The thought flickers through your mind, but you quickly brush it aside. Why would he make himself known in this way and then vanish without even seeing you? You can't allow yourself to hope. 

Dismissing the thought, you force yourself to rationalize that it must have been an accident. Perhaps someone burned it while it was being ironed. It’s easy enough to convince yourself; after all, it’s only three and a half slender marks—it could be anything. But the unease remains as you lay down on the bed, your mind filled with questions. You eventually succumb to sleep from sheer exhaustion, your dreams filled with memories of Jungkook.

The next day passes in a blur—the usual routine of job applications, food preparation, and cleaning duties. The burn mark on your bedsheet remains a mystery. You track down the volunteer who did the laundry, and she swears she wouldn't be so careless as to burn someone’s belongings. Despite her assurances, it's the only explanation you are willing to believe. You return to your bed to find that the sheet has been replaced with a fresh one, the burn mark gone as if it never existed.

You spot an older man sitting on a bed in the corner; his mouth moves silently, and the rosary beads dangling from his fingers lead you to believe he’s praying. A small, faux Christmas tree, no larger than a water bottle, stands on a box next to him. The sight stirs something with you, an uncomfortable feeling once again settling in your gut. You don’t understand his faith. How can someone continue to pray to a God that has obviously forsaken him?

You wait until the man finishes and safely tucks the rosary beads into his shirt pocket, right above his heart, before you approach.

“Excuse me?”

He looks up at you with a smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. "What can I help you with, dear?" 

"I noticed you praying," you begin tentatively. Despite your personal qualms with religion, you don’t want to seem as if you are disrespecting him or his beliefs. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but how do you keep your faith? Under these circumstances?"

He doesn't seem bothered at all by your blunt question. Instead, he chuckles softly and pats the bed beside him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitate a moment before complying.

"Faith isn't about having all the answers," he starts, his voice a mere whisper in the quiet room. "It isn't about being rewarded for good deeds or punished for bad ones. It's about hope. It's about believing that things will get better."

“Hope? Still? Despite… despite being here? I mean, aren’t you upset with God?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as well, a mixture of curiosity and frustration seeping into your words.

He remains silent for a while, his gaze wandering towards the small Christmas tree on the box beside him. 

"No, I'm not upset with God," he finally replies. "Man is given free will, and it is man who chooses what to do with it. Crisis, poverty… God didn't create these. They're the consequences of human choices." His words are sincere, spoken with a calmness that only comes from years of contemplation. "God doesn't promise us that life will always be easy or free from hardships. But He does promise that He will be there in those times of trouble. You see, faith isn't about expecting God to fix our problems, but about having the strength to face them."

“I envy your strength,” you admit with a hint of admiration in your voice.

“Strength is born from struggle, dear. You’ll find your way soon enough.” 

“I hope you’re right.”

The conversation lingers in your mind long after the man's words have faded into silence. You sit on your bunk, staring at the ceiling, pondering them. His unshakable faith is both alien and inspiring to you. Even when you were an archangel, before any doubts seeped into your mind, your faith was nothing like his. It was a duty, an obligation, a resolute certainty that was less about personal beliefs and more about the world you were born into. 

His mention of hope sticks out to you the most. You look around the room again, taking note of the different symbols of faith scattered across the room—crosses, menorahs, and even a small prayer mat in one corner. Each person in this room believes in something larger than themselves, something that gives them hope. And you? You're not certain what you believe in anymore. But maybe, just maybe, some of your anger has been misplaced. 

As the daylight fades, you find yourself wandering outside, the crisp evening air bringing a kind of comfort you couldn't find inside. You walk aimlessly, your feet following the now-familiar sidewalks. You end up in a park, and you make a seat for yourself on a deserted bench.

Looking up into the sky, now painted with hues of orange and pink, you let yourself miss Heaven for just a minute. To miss Jungkook. Even the Creator. You can never go back to worshipping Him, nor do you want to, but you can't deny the connection that once was. As much as you wish everything never happened, you are grateful for how much you've grown since. 

Suddenly, you’re disoriented by a bright flash of light and a shrill, piercing sound that makes your entire body jolt. You shut your eyes and cover your ears, but it does nothing to dull the pain. It's as if the noise is coming from inside your mind. You half-crawl, half-fall off the bench, curling in on yourself, unable to think anything, do anything, until it finally comes to a stop. 

The world pauses around you; the birds stop chirping, the wind stops blowing, and people are frozen where they walk. A familiar feeling washes over you, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. Even in this form, even as a human, his presence calls to your very soul. You hadn’t realized how incomplete you felt, how empty you were, without him by your side. He’s your other half, and he always will be. The realization makes you want to cry. You had hoped after the Fall, after you became human, that would cease to be true. You can’t stand the fact that you’re still irrevocably tied to him, even after all that he’s done. As always, fate is cruel.

“Y/N.”

He speaks your name with a quiet reverence as if he can hardly believe you’re there in front of him. The familiar, honeyed tone of his voice reignites your longing for him with full force, but you still stubbornly keep your eyes closed. You can’t look at him. You aren’t strong enough.

“I cannot believe you are alive.”

What?

His statement shocks you enough that your eyes fly open of their own accord, and for the first time in months, you're met with the sight of Jungkook. You're not sure if you perceive him differently now that you are mortal, but he's even more captivating than you remember. 

His dark hair curls softly atop his head and is tousled ever-so-perfectly. His skin is beautifully tanned, and the way his tall figure is silhouetted against the sun makes it seem like he's glowing. His wings are obsidian, gargantuan in size, seemingly consuming the entire park with their reach. He's magnificent, so beautiful it hurts.

But it is his eyes that have you frozen in your spot—those beautiful, brown doe eyes, filled with so much emotion that it takes your breath away. He's not supposed to be able to feel unless… unless he has begun the degradation process, as you had.   

“Y/N,” he repeats, his voice trembling. "I thought you were dead." 

“I don't understand,” you manage to choke out, trying to sound more composed than you feel. You pull yourself to your feet, grimacing at the pain radiating throughout your body. How much of it is physical and how much is emotional, you can't tell. 

He takes a step closer to you, his hands outstretched as if to ensure that you're real, but you recoil instinctively. He flinches at your reaction but still grabs your arms, grip unrelenting even as you attempt to pull away from him. 

“Protective markings have been burned onto your ribs.” Hurt flashes across his features. “Were you hiding from me?”

“What? No.” You manage to break free and back up a few steps, putting some distance between you. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, remembering how he always seemed to know what you were thinking even before you did. "I didn't even know I had them."

"I need you to explain everything," he demands. 

“You need me to explain?" You scoff and cross your arms over your chest defensively. "What about you?”

“Me?” He tilts his head slightly, his confusion obvious.

“Yes, you!" You take a step closer, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "After all, you’re how I ended up in this situation, right?” 

“What are you talking about?”

"You betrayed me!" you hiss. “I confided in you, and you told me you understood. That you were with me. And then you turned around and proclaimed me a blasphemer!” 

He doesn’t respond right away, and it’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his head as he pieces things together. “Y/N… I would never.” 

His admittance makes you pause. Angels aren’t supposed to lie, though you know not everyone abides by that law. However, Jungkook has always been one of the most dedicated to the commandments. 

“That’s not what Namsu told me.”

“Namsu? The Throne?” 

“Yes, the Throne. The one who exiled me on the orders of up high.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You… were exiled? You did not wither?”

"Wither?" you scoff. "That's a myth, Jungkook. A cover-up to hide the fact that when angels start to stand up for what they think is right, they get cast out. And it's thanks to you that I'm here now."

"I… no." The intensity behind the word takes you aback. "I just wanted to help you; I thought you were sick. I went to one of the Cherubim for guidance—I would have never turned you in for some kind of punishment." 

His words hang in the air, making your heart pound in your chest. He was trying to help you? The thought sends a flurry of conflicting emotions through you. 

"Help me?" You repeat his words, mocking him in your disbelief. "Your way of helping got me exiled! Cast down and made mortal."

"I did not—" He cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"Yet it did!" you snap, crossing your arms tightly around yourself as if they could somehow shield you from the pain his presence brings. "And now I'm here, and nothing will ever be the same!"

"I am so sorry." His apology is whispered so softly that you almost don't catch it. But you do, and it hits you like a punch in the gut.

Your head feels as if it's about to implode. He didn't purposefully betray you—in fact, he was trying to save you. But even so, his actions have led to your downfall, and now you're stuck here on earth, far from the light of Heaven, vulnerable and mortal, while he remains immortal and untouchable. Perhaps that's the part that hurts the most. The fact that now you are separated not by betrayal but by the very nature of your beings. 

Your voice cracks as tears fill your eyes. "If all this is true, then why wouldn’t you have looked for me?”

“I looked everywhere at first, but I could not sense you anymore.” If it was possible, you think he would be crying too. “Namsu is the one who told me what happened. He said that you… that your doubt consumed you, and you did not survive.”

The information hits you like a ton of bricks. Your knees almost give out for a second time, but Jungkook reaches out and grabs you by the elbows, steadying you. 

"I… I had no idea." A bitter laugh escapes your lips as you look up at him. "You didn't know anything, and I presumed the worst of you." 

His fingers tighten around your arms in a reassuring squeeze. "We can always start over, Y/N." 

"Start over?" you echo, incredulous. "You make it sound so easy."

"And why would it not be? We were not the ones to blame for our separation. Come back with me."

"I'm human now. The only way I can come back is… is if I'm dead."

His grip loosens, his face paling at your words. "I did not mean to suggest… Of course, I do not want you to die," he hastily corrects himself, glancing down at the ground. His wings flutter uneasily behind him, betraying his discomfort. "There must be another way."

"If there was, would it even be safe? I mean, why would Namsu do this?" you ask, staring at him. You're not sure if you're asking him or simply musing aloud. Even so, the question hangs heavily in the silence between you.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jungkook speaks again. His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, "I wish I had the answers you seek, but I don't. All I know is that I will do everything in my power to rectify this situation." He turns away from you, scanning the horizon as if searching for something. "I need to return and confront Namsu. He must account for his actions."

"No, it's too dangerous. What if he forces you to Fall, too? You can't risk it, Jungkook." 

He looks back at you, his expression hardening. "I will not let him get away with this, Y/N," he says resolutely. "Deception is not a virtue of a Throne, especially not in such grave matters."

"And you won't let him, but you need to go about this carefully. Going to him directly won't work—he's too powerful."

Jungkook tilts his head, regarding you skeptically. "It almost sounds as if you are asking me to be deceitful." 

"Not deceitful, just… stealthy?" 

He doesn’t respond immediately, his brow furrowed as he mulls over your words. After a moment, he exhales slowly, pulling back from you to pace the grass in thought. "Stealthy," he repeats slowly, his voice distant. "That would require careful planning. Secret meetings. Misdirection."

"Yes," you agree, watching him closely. "All of that."

He stops suddenly, turning to look at you. "Very well. I will do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this."

Your chest tightens, and you gnaw at your bottom lip. His resolve both comforts and worries you. You don't want him to risk himself for you, but part of you is happy that he is willing.

"However,” Jungkook breaks your train of thought. "It sounds like I may need to be a little bit more human to pull this off. After all, none of this comes easily to angels, but mortals lie all the time."

You raise an eyebrow. "And how are you going to achieve that?"

"You will have to teach me, of course." He says this as if doing so will be the easiest thing in the world. “The degradation process has already started for me, as I am sure you are aware. It should be easy.”

"You're serious?" 

Jungkook had always been so straight-laced, the epitome of angelic perfection. The idea of him playing at being human is almost laughable.

"Completely," he responds, his intense gaze never wavering. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to bring Namsu to justice and try to fix this. Fix us. If that requires adopting some mortal habits, then so be it."

"Alright," you finally concede, shaking your head in amusement. "Time for a crash course in 'how to be a human' 101."

He smiles faintly at that, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards just so. It's a small thing, barely noticeable amidst the tension still hanging heavily in the air between you two, but it's enough. Enough to remind you that the way you felt about him in Heaven, despite not being able to feel, was some kind of love. You don't know where that leaves you now or what you're going to do about it, but procrastination is another human skill you have come to love. Maybe you'll teach him that eventually.

"Lesson one," you start, pointing a finger at him in mock sternness. "Humans don't always speak so formally or in such grandiose phrases. ‘I am going to bring Namsu to justice' sounds archaic or like something a two-bit superhero would say."

His lips quirk upward into a more genuine smile this time. "I see," he replies, his voice deliberately casual. "So how would a human say it?"

"Well, for starters, you could use slang," you suggest. 

Jungkook’s brows furrow, an almost comical look of concentration on his face. “Slang,” he repeats, testing the word on his tongue.

“Yes, slang. Humans don’t always pronounce every single word, and they often come up with new, shorter words to replace certain phrases. You could say something like, 'Namsu’s gonna get what he deserves.'”

He nods, repeating your words slowly. “Namsu... is going to get what he deserves.”

You burst out laughing at his attempt. The prim, stoic angel fumbling his way through human speech? It is truly a sight to behold. 

"Laughing at my expense?" He feigns hurt, but there's a playful twinkle in his eyes that gives him away. "I guess that's lesson two then: humans are full of mirth and mockery."

"You're catching on quickly," you reply, still giggling slightly. “And yes, we like to laugh.”

He observes you a moment longer before finally allowing a soft chuckle to escape his lips. It's a deep, rich sound, but it feels tentative like he's not quite sure if he's doing it right.

“Laughing…" he murmurs, puzzling over the concept. “Such a peculiar expression of joy. But I like it." 

"As you should," you reply, a grin still playing across your face. "It's one of the best parts about being human."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. "It suits you."

"Hm? What does?"

"Being human."

"I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.” 

"There is a certain spontaneity in humans. A vibrancy that angels lack." Jungkook’s gaze intensifies, his voice lowering to almost a whisper as he steps closer. "It makes you shine more brightly. Like the sun."

He's so close to you now that you can make out the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words wash over you, warming you from the inside out. 

"That—" You clear your throat, trying to steady your shaking voice. "That sounds like a compliment."

"It is," he confirms, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a brief second before rising back to meet your eyes. "But it is also an observation. A fact."

You want to kiss him. The thought shocks you—you've never kissed someone before, let alone wanted to. It must be a human impulse. You can't help but imagine what it might feel like, the warmth of his lips against yours, his skin beneath your fingertips. You want to feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair. But the danger of your respective positions impedes that thought, and you push it down. He's an angel. You're not. Him being your Astrom, the connection you had before your Fall, none of it matters now.

"Okay," you manage to squeak out, trying to ignore the electricity that seems to be sparking between your too-close bodies. "Human lesson number three: we're big on personal space."

"Oh?" Jungkook raises an eyebrow but doesn't step away. "Is this too close?"

You swallow hard. "A bit."

You swear you see a hint of mischievousness cross his features before he complies, stepping back just enough to leave a sliver of space between you. "Better?" 

"Now you're just teasing me," you retort, though there's a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Is that frowned upon?" 

"No," you admit. "In fact, it's quite human of you. Now, it’s time for a real challenge." He looks at you quizzically. "We have to convince Naomi to let you stay at the shelter." 

"Ah," he nods, understanding dawning on him. "I see. Another part of being human—negotiation."

"Exactly."

"Then lead the way." With a snap of his fingers, time resumes for the two of you and his wings have disappeared, making him appear fully human, and you head back to Lost Star.

"Naomi, please," you beg, giving your boss the best puppy eyes you can muster. "He needs a place to stay." 

Naomi crosses her arms over her chest and drags her gaze over Jungkook in a way that suggests she's scrutinizing every cell of his being, from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. "There's no extra beds, hun. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do." 

"Then he can stay with me!"

"You and him, sharing that tiny little twin bed?" She scoffs. "I'd like to see you try."

"We'll make it work!"

"It's still against the rules. One body to one bed." 

"I know it's not ideal, but just for a few days until we figure out something else," you urge her. "I wouldn't be asking you this if it wasn't important." 

Jungkook steps forward, interjecting smoothly, "I will respect the rules, and if you feel my presence is harmful or disruptive in any way, I will leave immediately." 

Naomi looks between you and Jungkook, and then she sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat. 

"Fine, but only for a little while. And you can't sleep in the main room. Take my office—the couch is a pull-out."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You pull her into a hug that she returns with a loving exasperation. 

"If there's even a whiff of trouble, both of you are gone, understand?" 

"Yes, ma'am! I wouldn't expect anything less." 

You grab Jungkook’s hand, dragging him along behind you as you lead him through the shelter. You pass through some of the busier living areas, and it's as if everyone can’t help but stare at him. You can only assume that, despite his wings being hidden, he still emits some sort of otherworldly aura that draws people in. Plus, by human standards, you suppose he's quite attractive. 

Jungkook seems unbothered by the attention, too focused on his surroundings and curiously taking in every detail.

"All these people live here?" he asks, incredulous. "This place is quite small." 

"Shh! Lesson four: lower your voice when you're talking about other people. The last thing we need is for someone to overhear and think you're judging them." 

"Apologies," Jungkook replies, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But my previous comment was not meant to be judgmental. I’m just… surprised. I thought humans usually lived in family units, but everyone here doesn't seem to be related." 

I’m. Doesn’t. He’s already using contractions—you must either be a good teacher or he’s a quick learner.

"You're right," you agree, and as you glance around, your heart aches a little. "Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that. This place is for those who have lost their families or homes." 

"Lost their homes? Like in a fire?" 

"Sometimes. Or maybe they didn't have enough money to pay their taxes." 

"I don't understand. Are there not enough homes for everyone? Why do you need to pay for such a basic need?"

You pause, the innocence of his question hitting you surprisingly hard. Of course he wouldn't understand the complexities of human society, of money and social class, of poverty and wealth disparity. You didn't either; at least, not until you Fell and were forced to figure it out. 

"That is a complicated issue," you admit, running a hand through your hair. "And not all humans agree on how to solve it. Some people think everyone should have a home, regardless of whether or not they can pay for it. Others think that if you can't afford it, you don't deserve one."

He looks so confused that you would be tempted to laugh if the tone of the conversation wasn't so serious. "That doesn't seem fair. In heaven, everyone has a place."

"Yes, well, Earth isn't heaven." There's a bitterness to your words that you hadn't intended. "And why our Creator chooses to leave things like this is a mystery to me. I mean, why not use some of His power to help?"

"The ways of the Almighty are impossible for us to understand," Jungkook quietly replies. "And it's not for us to question."

You snort in response, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, aren't you a dutiful little angel?" 

Jungkook frowns, clearly not understanding your sarcasm. You sigh and shake your head.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. It's just hard to wrap my head around sometimes. It's why my so-called degradation process started in the first place. Look at them—" You gesture to the people huddled together around the small television in the corner of the room, others sharing a meal or helping to care for the younger children. "They're good people. Why do they deserve to suffer?" 

Silence lingers between you for a moment. When he responds, he doesn’t answer your question. “Their heavenly rewards shall be plentiful as long as they keep to their faith.” 

“Does that make all of this okay?" You scoff. "Why are they being tested like this? In fact, why do they even need to believe at all to be given a home in the celestial realm? If a person is good-hearted, why isn’t that enough?”

Jungkook looks away from you. "I don't like these questions."

“You don’t like them? Or you don’t like how uncomfortable they make you feel?” 

Before he can even bother replying, you let go of his hand and open the door to Naomi's office, hurrying inside, eager to get some space. It's small and cramped, filled with stacks of paper, an old wooden desk strewn with an old computer and various office supplies, and a well-worn couch wedged against the wall.

"It's not much," you say. "But it's home for now, I guess."

"Home," Jungkook repeats softly, eyes scanning the room. He zeroes in the billboard behind Naomi's desk, filled with photos of smiling people, letters from those that she has helped. A smile tugs at his lips. "It's nice."

"You say that now. Just wait until you're trying to sleep and a couch spring is digging into your back." 

"I don't actually need to sleep," he reminds you. 

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Right, I forgot. At least we won't be fighting for the blanket."

"I can pretend to," Jungkook offers, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "The idea of laying next to you is not unwelcome." 

You blush, taken aback. "W-what… you…" You take a deep breath. "No, that won't be necessary. And lesson five: don't flirt with people unless you mean it." 

"What is 'flirt’?”

"Flirting," you explain, trying to keep your blush under control, "is when people say or do things that suggest they're attracted to each other."

"I see." He pauses for just a moment before asking, "And how do I know if I'm attracted to someone?"

You sigh exasperatedly. Who knew teaching an angel to be human could be so tiring? 

"It's… well, it's kind of hard to explain. Especially because, as an angel, you don't really feel, at least not until the degradation process is nearing its end. But basically, it's like you have an inexplicable urge to be around this person a lot. You think about them often, their happiness makes you happy, and you want to be closer to them, maybe even touch them or hold them. Some people also might feel their heart beat faster, or a fluttering in their stomach." 

As you speak, Jungkook’s eyes never leave yours. They gleam with curiosity and understanding, drinking in every word you say. He seems to be processing the concept, and then he suddenly smiles. "So, like how I feel about you." 

Caught off-guard, you blink at him, speechless for a moment. And then the panic seeps in. 

"No, Jungkook, that's not correct," you insist, your words tumbling out in haste and denial. "You can't… we can't… you're an angel. I'm—" Fallen, you want to say. Human, you need to say. But you don't. 

"Why not?" he asks simply, his gaze steady. 

"Because!" You scramble for an explanation, desperate to avoid the truth of your own feelings stirring within you. "Because angels aren't supposed to feel that way."

"But I am no longer a pure angel," Jungkook counters. "The degradation process has begun. We discussed this already."

"But that doesn't matter! The whole reason we are doing this is so you can learn the skills you need to figure out a way to stop Namsu from forcing anyone else to Fall. Once you do, you'll be able to stay in Heaven because withering isn't real." Before he can say anything else, you open the door. "I'm gonna grab my stuff from my bed. I'll… I'll be back in a second." 

You slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook alone in the room. It's a struggle to keep your composure as you head towards your bed. All you can think of is his words, the nonchalance with which he said them. You can feel your traitorous heart yearning for him, but you can't let it sway you. Whether it was an accident or not, his betrayal led to your Fall. Led to you being human. And he's an angel. No matter what you feel or what he thinks he feels, nothing can happen between you now. 

As you gather your meager belongings, the man you spoke with earlier approaches you with a sympathetic expression. "You alright, dear? You didn't get evicted, did you? I'll give Naomi a piece of mind if that's the case." 

"No, no," you quickly reassure him with a forced smile. "My… my friend needs a place to stay for awhile, and there's a one body to one bed policy. Naomi was kind enough to let us use the couch in her office for a few days until we figure something else out."

"Your friend, hm?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "That fellow you walked in with? Can't say I blame you. He's quite a looker."

"It's not like that," you blush, hurriedly stuffing the rest of your belongings into your bag. "Anyway, don't worry. You'll still see me around." 

The man grins and gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it. This place would be much drearier without you."

You bid him goodbye with a wave and make your way back to Naomi's office, feeling like you're walking towards the edge of a cliff. As you open the door, you find Jungkook staring out the window. The streetlight spills in through the gap in the curtains, bathing him in a soft glow. He turns as you enter. 

"Gathered your belongings?" he asks, his voice calm as if the previous conversation never happened. For a moment, you feel robbed—does he not understand the gravity of what he said? But you suppose it's better this way. Easier, at least. 

"Yes," you respond, a bit more brusquely than intended, setting your bag down on the floor. He's still staring at you, and you flush under his gaze. "I'm just going to set up the couch. And stop staring at me so intently. Humans get nervous about stuff like that."

"Another lesson," he remarks. "Understood." Jungkook watches you for a moment longer, then turns back to the window without a word. 

You get to work, unfolding the couch and covering it with your bedding. The silence between you is thick; you can feel the tension radiating off of Jungkook despite his apparent calm. Your heart pounds in your ears as you busy yourself with smoothing out some wrinkles in the sheets, a futile distraction. 

With a deep breath, you break the silence. "Alright, I'm done." 

Jungkook turns to look, and his eyes scan the makeshift bed you've prepared. "You've made it look inviting." 

"Should be okay for a few nights," you reply curtly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm, uh, gonna go ready for bed. I know you don't sleep, but feel free to sit at her desk or something. Make yourself comfortable." 

You exit the room and head down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. You can’t shake off his confession and your own rush to deny him. The truth of your feelings, or rather the depth of them, is something you aren't ready to face.

After getting ready for bed, you hesitantly return to Naomi's office. The door creaks upon opening, and Jungkook turns from where he's seated at Naomi's desk, looking up at you with his intense gaze.

"Goodnight," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray how uneasy you feel.

Jungkook nods. "Goodnight," he replies, and his voice is gentle, concerned. You feel a pang of guilt at the distance you've created between the two of you but say nothing more, falling into a fitful sleep.

Sometime during the night, Jungkook figured out how to work Naomi's dinosaur of a computer and discovered the wonderful thing that is the internet. When you wake, he flocks to your side like an excited child, eager to share everything he has learned about humans, their emotions, and their behavior.

"Slow down, Jungkook," you chuckle, holding up a hand to halt his barrage of words. "I can't absorb all of that at once."

"Oh," he says, blinking in surprise. "I forget that human minds process information more slowly. Should I take this as another lesson?"

You shrug, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Sure, go for it."

Despite the tension last night and everything unsaid between the two of you, you find yourself falling into an easy rhythm with him. He's eager to learn and keen on understanding humanity—your humanity. Throughout the day, he continues his studies, glued to the computer screen as you complete your daily volunteering. He takes breaks every once in a while to come find you and ask questions.

"I've come across some terms that are perplexing," he says, leaning on the front desk as you catalog some information. "'Memes' and 'emojis' appear prominently in human interactions online, but I don’t really know what they are or how they’re used.”

You answer question after question until you realize you aren’t getting work done, so you have to come up with a plan B. Leading him back to Naomi’s office, you pull up Netflix on the computer. Jungkook watches the screen in fascination as you explain streaming and scroll through all the shows. 

"Let's try Friends," you say, clicking on the thumbnail. 

You leave him to watch as you finish up your tasks for the day, checking occasionally to see that he’s still engrossed in the show. Instead of constantly badgering you with questions, he writes them on a notepad you provided and waits until the end of the day to go over them with you. You answer each one as best you can, completely endeared by him. 

It's during one of the show's more depressing moments that he asks you about lying and betrayal, echoing the heavy undertones from the other day. His question takes you by surprise, his gaze focused intensely on your face as he waits for an answer.

"Lying is a tough one," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "Sometimes it's out of fear or selfishness. Sometimes people lie because they're trying to protect themselves."

"And betrayal?" Jungkook asks, his voice unnaturally calm.

You sigh, looking down at your hands. "Betrayal… it's when someone breaks your trust. It hurts, Jungkook. It hurts a lot."

He watches you for several long moments before finally speaking again. "I see," he says softly. "And that's what you thought I did to you?"

You swallow hard, feeling the knot in your chest tighten. "Jungkook," you start, but falter, not knowing how to put your feelings into words. 

"I did not mean to betray you," Jungkook continues. "I realize that my actions may have led you to believe that I deceived you, but it was not my intention. I'm sorry."

"I know." You believe him completely, but the wound is still so fresh that you can’t bring yourself to fully trust him again. Not yet. "I know you didn't mean to, but an apology doesn't fix everything. Consider it another lesson—trust, once broken, isn't so easily mended." 

Jungkook plays with the skin around his nails, an anxious habit he seems to be developing the more human-like he becomes. After a moment, he says, "I understand. I will try harder."

"Try harder doing what?" 

"To understand you better. To understand all humans more, their emotions and their beliefs. Maybe understanding what trust really is will teach me how to earn it back and make up for my mistakes." He's so earnest, so genuine, it almost brings tears to your eyes. "I think I want this as much as I want Namsu to answer for his crimes, if not more. And maybe that makes little sense, but maybe… maybe that's quite human of me." 

"And maybe that's progress," you say softly, looking at Jungkook with newfound hope. 

Your new normal is spending your days with your time split between performing your volunteering duties and teaching Jungkook all about human life. 

Christmas is only a week away now, and everyone around you seems to be buzzing with excitement. At this point, even the inside of the shelter has been decorated. The hallways are lined with lights and garlands, and the common areas even have a few trees set up with donated presents underneath. And, as much as you have dreaded the holiday, you can't deny that watching Jungkook experience it for the first time makes you hate it a little less.

Despite the initial stiffness that comes with being an angel unfamiliar with human life, he has quickly adapted to life at the shelter. He's kind and patient, and he’s always eager to help out where he can. The children, in particular, have taken a liking to him. He's become their favorite storyteller and always has the kids hanging onto his every word. 

One afternoon, you find him sitting with them, singing a song in an ancient celestial language. Everyone will assume it’s some gibberish language he’s made up for one of his stories, but it reminds you of home. His voice is beautiful, melodic and soothing, with a honeyed quality to it that would make anyone stop and listen. 

You stand in the doorway and watch, a smile tugging at your lips. He catches your eye and winks, the action so human and unexpected that it startles a laugh out of you. The children turn to see what's so funny, but you just shake your head, telling them to continue listening.

He comes to you when he finishes, smiling brightly. "Did you enjoy the song as well?" 

"I did," you reply truthfully, your heart fluttering at his attention. The feelings you have been trying to resist are becoming increasingly persistent the more time you spend with him. 

"That's good to hear.”

Suddenly, the kids clamor over to you both, giggling and pointing at something above you. You look up, and all the color drains from your face. Mistletoe. Who the hell put it here?

Jungkook looks between you and the mistletoe, obviously confused. “Why are you angry with that plant? It’s quite beautiful.”

“It’s a tradition, of sorts.” You say the word with disdain. “When a couple—not that we are one—walks under the mistletoe, they’re supposed to kiss.”

“Kiss?”

“We don’t have to, it’s stupid—” 

“No, let’s do it. It's a part of the human experience, right? Let's consider it another lesson."

Heat rushes to your face, and you stutter incoherently, looking around the room for a way to escape. But the children are watching expectantly, their eyes wide and eager. You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Alright… close your eyes," you tell him.

He listens obediently, his eyes fluttering closed. You had never noticed just how long and pretty his eyelashes were until now. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath and lean in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. When you pull back, you're greeted with a perplexed expression as he opens his eyes.

"That was nice," he says after a brief pause. "But that’s really what a kiss is? In the show, they did it a bit more like—"

He leans in to demonstrate what he means, his lips brushing against yours. It's soft and a bit awkward at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, pulling you closer. Against your better judgment, you let him, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment. His lips are softer than you would have expected. His fingers lightly squeeze your waist, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, and it's not until you hear some of the children giggling that you are reminded you have an audience.

You quickly pull away, breathless and flushed with embarrassment. Jungkook, however, is grinning from ear to ear. "That," he says. "That is how they did it."  

"Again! Again!" one of the kids shouts, pulling at your arm. 

Jungkook chuckles at his enthusiasm. "I think we should get back to our story," he says, ruffling the boy’s hair lovingly. Then, turning back to you, he murmurs, "Thank you. For the lesson." 

You can barely speak coherently, but you manage to squeak out a small “you’re welcome” before rushing out of the room. How on Earth are you supposed to get your tasks done now? It's impossible to focus, your mind running in circles over his touch, the feel of his lips against yours.

When you return to Naomi’s office later that night, you’re relieved to see that Jungkook isn't there yet. You take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and process your thoughts, your fingers tracing absentmindedly over your lips. A shiver passes through your body, a heat blooming in the pit of your stomach. You drop your hand, clenching it into a fist to stop the trembling.

"Nervous?" a voice asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Jungkook is standing in the doorway, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"I… no," you say. 

"Don't lie," he chides gently, sitting next to you on the bed. “I can tell when you do that now, you know.” He keeps to a respectful distance, but he turns his gaze to you. “I think I'm starting to really understand this human thing. Emotions and all that.”

"Is that so?" 

"Yes. They can be painful sometimes but also quite beautiful." 

You watch as he turns his gaze back towards the room, and silence stretches between you again. However, it’s different now from how it used to be; it's not awkward or unsettling, but comfortable. His vulnerability makes you want to be honest, to admit to the way you feel.  

Just as you’re about to say something, he continues, "But now it's time for me to learn about something else. I need to start strategizing for the coming confrontation."

"Right, Namsu," you say. You almost forgot about Jungkook’s original intentions. You clap your hands and get up, heading to the computer. "Alright. Let's research."

With Jungkook sufficiently prepared, the time soon comes for him to return to the celestial realm. However, he insists on leaving at night, so he can spend the day with you. He referred to it as "a date," and you practically tripped over your own feet, much to his enjoyment. He has certainly developed a penchant for teasing you.

You decide to take him into the heart of the city, so he can observe people in their natural element. There seem to be even more decorations than you remember, and people are bustling about to finish their last-minute shopping. However, you find yourself handling the chaos a lot better with Jungkook by your side. 

He hasn't let go of your hand since you stepped out of the shelter, his thumb lightly rubbing circles over your knuckles. Every once in a while, he squeezes it lightly, a silent assurance that he’s there. Whether he notices your nerves and is doing it to comfort you or is doing it because he wants to, you're grateful for it.

His doe eyes dart this way and that, eagerly drinking in the scenery. You try to explain what everything is—the office buildings, luxury apartments, and tiny shops buried in alleyways—but he's more interested in the people. It isn't until you stop in front of a Hindu temple that his attention is finally captured by a building. He cocks his head to the side, eyes wide in wonder as he takes in the sight of it. The temple is a beautiful structure, with elaborate carvings and statues lining its walls. 

"What is this place?" he asks, his voice full of awe.

"It's a place of worship for those that practice Hinduism," you explain.

His eyes sparkle with interest as he takes a step closer to the building. "Can we go inside?"

You glance at him, surprised by his request. But something in his earnest gaze breaks down your hesitation. "Sure," you say softly, leading him inside.

The inside of the temple is even more impressive than the outside. There are vibrant murals depicting different gods and an intoxicating scent of incense that fills the air. You gesture to the bell at the entrance. “Would you like to ring it?”

“What’s it for?” he asks, picking it up gently. 

“It’s supposed to be a way to announce your arrival to the deities.” 

Jungkook shakes it, the twinkling of the bell echoing in the large room. “Pretty,” he remarks as he places it back where it belongs.

He then follows your lead as you move towards the main shrine, your heart pounding in your chest as you realize what you're about to do. An angel of the Christian God at the altar of a different one? You're almost afraid you'll be struck down where you stand. 

He takes in the offerings with a small smile. "It's all quite beautiful," he remarks. "It's a shame that their gods aren't real." 

You know Jungkook means no harm and that it is what he has been conditioned to think for thousands of years, but you still bristle at his easy dismissal of their beliefs. “We’re real. Our God is real. Who’s to say the gods of their religion are not?”

"There is one God. That is what we were taught."

"Yes, it is. But we were also led to believe the withering was real. Just because it is said does not mean that it is true.”

Jungkook is silent for a moment, eyes still fixed on the offerings. Then he turns to you. "You truly believe that?" 

"I don't know," you confess, feeling a little exposed. “I don't know what I believe anymore. I'm just… questioning. It's complicated." 

"You have given me a lot to think about," he admits, his tone quiet. “For all I know, you might be right. I shouldn't have dismissed their beliefs so easily. I apologize.”

You stare at him in surprise; you hadn't expected him to back down so easily. "It's okay," you reassure him. "I'd say being open-minded is another lesson, but unfortunately, not all humans are."

You continue to walk around the city, introducing Jungkook to as many things as possible. Everything he does fills you with affection, whether it be him trying hot dogs from a street vendor and declaring them divine, or joining some kids who were playing soccer in a park. At one point, he kicks the ball so hard that it lands in a tree branch, and you can’t help but laugh as he clumsily climbs up to retrieve it.

When night falls, you end up at the pier, watching the shimmering water beneath the stars. Jungkook is oddly quiet, looking out at the horizon with a distant expression. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but it does leave you feeling a little uneasy. You reach for his hand, and he startles slightly before turning to look at you. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.

He smiles slightly. “I’m guessing that’s some sort of human expression, and you’re not actually going to give me a penny.”

“You would be correct.”

“I’m thinking about a lot of things.” He exhales as if letting out a breath he has been holding. "You, for one. But I'm always thinking of you so that much isn't a surprise." You blush and swat at his arm. "But I’m also thinking about my beliefs."

"What about them?"

He takes a moment to get his thoughts in order, grabbing your hand more tightly as if you're his anchor in a stormy sea. He answers your question with another. "What if everything we have been taught is wrong? I mean, we have never spoken with the Almighty directly. Angels, apostles, they can all take His words and twist them for their own purposes. We've seen it in action with Namsu, and with how the Bible has been changed to promote hatred." 

You're taken aback by his frankness, the depth of his vulnerability. You have no answers for him, but you can relate to him and offer what little understanding you have come to have.

"So maybe it is wrong, and things have gotten taken out of context or changed as the years have gone on. Like you said, we cannot talk to Him, so we can’t ask for the truth. Or, maybe it is all part of a bigger plan, and unwavering faith is the answer.” You pause, steeling your resolve, before continuing, “But it isn’t for me. I can’t live that way. But how you decide to live is your choice. Who you are is your choice. I cannot decide that for you, and neither can He.” 

He frowns. "I don't know how to make that choice. Who even am I? What am I without my purpose? Without Him?"

"Perhaps we're not defined by a single purpose we've been given," you answer quietly. "Maybe we're more than that."

"More than our purpose?" 

"Yeah," you say, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe we don't need a purpose. Maybe it's okay to just exist." 

Jungkook’s gaze turns thoughtful, considering your words as if they are the most precious thing in the world. "Just exist," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. After a moment, he stands up, looking at you with a newfound fire blazing in his eyes. "I need to return. I will talk to some of my confidants, gather information, and then confront Namsu." 

You knew it was coming, but your stomach still drops. You're scared for him, for what will happen when he leaves. But you see the determination in his eyes, the steel in his gaze. You know better than to try and stop him now.

"You'll be careful, right?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

"I will."

He pulls you up and envelops you in his arms. His embrace is comforting, protective, and for a brief moment, it makes you forget about all your worries.

"Promise me," you whisper into his chest. 

"I promise," he says, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back. He pulls away after a moment, but not before brushing his lips against your temple. "I will return. For you."

His words weigh heavy in the air as he pulls away fully, breaking the physical contact between you two. His gaze lingers on you for another moment before he turns away and disappears into the night. You're left standing on the pier alone, the cold wind making you shiver. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you head back to Lost Star, where you have nothing to do but wait.

It’s Christmas Eve before you know it. The holiday you have been dreading feels even worse with Jungkook’s absence, and frankly, you don’t know how to handle it. You plaster a smile on your face for the sake of the children, playing along with their excitement over what presents they are going to get and stories of Santa Claus. But every time someone brings Jungkook up, wondering where he is, you feel tempted to run to Naomi’s office and hide.

Speaking of Naomi, she has been keeping a close watch over you, mothering you as per usual. You know she can tell that something has happened. Once you step away from the festivities to do some of your work, she pulls you aside.

“Honey, what’s going on? These days you seem so out of it; you’re just flitting around room to room, acting like a ghost.” When you don’t answer, she frowns. “It’s because of that boy, isn’t it?”

"He… he needed to go home. He had some things he needed to figure out," you manage to say. It's not a lie, just an oversimplification of the truth.

She wraps an arm around you. "He's going to come back. I saw the way he looked at you, and you at him. And if he doesn't, well, screw him."

"Naomi!" 

"Sorry, sorry. He was sweet and all, but you're my girl. I'll always have your back." Naomi declares, patting you on the back. 

You accept her comfort, fighting back your tears. If only she knew your fear didn’t revolve around him coming back—of course, part of you is scared that something will happen to him, but the rational part of your brain, the part that knows his strength, has no doubts he'll be alright. In actuality, your biggest fear is that he won't be able to stay with you, and you’ll have to go through the pain of losing him all over again.

He's an angel. You're human. There's no future there. Your traitorous heart made you fall harder and harder for him without sparing that a moment's thought, and now you have to will yourself to accept that you'll always be in love with someone you cannot have.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, nothing but forced cheer and mindless chatter. Naomi sticks by your side as much as she can, making sure to redirect everyone who asks you questions about Jungkook. You're grateful for her presence, her constant support, and now more than ever, you realize how lucky you truly are to have her in your life.

As soon as everyone is in bed and your tasks for the day are done, you seek out the solitude of the pier once again. You've been coming here daily since he left. A sentimental thing, mostly, since it was the last place you saw him. But you also hope each night will be the night he returns.

The wind is strong tonight, the kind that chills you down to your bones, and the stars are hidden behind the clouds. You wrap your scarf more tightly around yourself, gazing aimlessly at the turbulent water. Suddenly, there's a bright light and a shrill noise. You aren't scared this time, and it's not nearly as overwhelming as it was. He must have tempered it somehow, made it less painful for you.

The light fades, leaving behind a figure that is unmistakably Jungkook. The sight of him fills you with such relief and happiness that you rush forward, throwing your arms around him. He envelops you in his arms, his wings folding around you, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he buries his face in your hair.

"I missed you very much," he says, breathing deeply.

"I missed you too," you whisper, tears prickling at your eyes. "I knew you'd come back."

"I said I would, didn't I?" he teases, pulling away just enough to look at you. "And I have news."

"What happened?" 

You stay locked in his embrace as he speaks, bringing one of your hands to his face to stroke his cheek, to follow the line of his jaw with your fingers. He lets you, as eager to feel your touch as you are to feel his.

"I confronted Namsu," he begins. "But I wasn't alone. There were other angels who had started the 'degradation' process, those who were too fearful of retribution to say anything. I told them everything, and we confronted the other Thrones about Namsu and everything he had done. They didn’t approve of his actions, and they punished him for it." 

"Really?" You ask, eyes wide with surprise. "Just like that? They believed you?"

A soft laugh bubbles up from him. "It wasn't quite that simple. There was plenty of arguing, plenty of disbelief. I’d never seen anything like it. But in the end, Namsu was banished from the celestial realm."

Relief washes over you at his words, the tension you hadn't even realized you were carrying leaving your body. "That's incredible.” 

Jungkook shrugs slightly, but there’s an unmistakable look of pride in his eyes. "I’m just glad he has gotten what he deserves. Now you have justice." He places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"And what about the others? The ones who have started to degrade?" Your heart clenches at the thought of them being punished for something beyond their control.

"They're safe," Jungkook assures you quickly. "The Thrones have promised to take care of it all. They're going to convene with Him, to see if the Heavenly teachings can be altered. Things are changing up there; I think it's all going to be alright." 

You're overwhelmed with emotion, both relief and dread tugging at you simultaneously. It is good to know that things will be changing, but what is done to you has been done. And now, Jungkook has no reason to stay with you. You take a step back from him. 

"What about you?" you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze.

"What about me?" 

"You have no reason to stay anymore. You can return to your normal duties. You did what was right, and everything is fixed."

"I did what was right, yes, and I'm sure things will be much better from now on," Jungkook agrees. But he steps forward, taking your hands in his and looking deep into your eyes. "But now, I need to do what's right for me." 

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, my star." Your heart stutters at the endearment. "I'm not going anywhere. I want to be with you."

"But… you can only do that if you're—"

"Human, yes," he interrupts. 

"Jungkook! You can't! You can't Fall for me," you half-shout, half-whisper. "You're a good angel, you—"

"Y/N." The force behind his voice stops you. "Even before you showed me the beauty of being human, before I knew how to feel, before I even knew what love was, I would have done anything for you.” His confession takes your breath away, and you wobble on your feet, moving a few steps back from him in your shock. “If you had simply asked it of me, I would have stood with you in the fires of hell for all eternity and still been grateful for each moment spent at your side." 

The tears you were holding back begin to fall. "You would have?" 

“I would. I can. I will.” He moves closer to you with each beat between words until he stands directly in front of you, only a hair's breadth away. Gently, hesitantly—as if for the first time—he takes your hand and presses it to his chest right above where a human heart would be. “Just say the words, and I will fall for you. I will forsake myself and turn my back on Heaven. The pain of losing my wings will be inconsequential compared to the pain of having to be without you.”

"W-what words?"

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. "You know what I want to hear. Be honest. Even better, be selfish, like a human. Tell me what you really want, and I will oblige."

You hesitate. You have been fighting your feelings this entire time, so sure of the fact that Jungkook would choose to continue his life as an angel. You never wanted him to Fall for you, to be torn away from the life he has always known the way you were. But he deserves to make the choice himself. If he wants your honesty, you will give it to him. 

"Speak, Y/N," Jungkook urges, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I want…" You begin slowly, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you. I want you to stay with me." He grins, relief clear in his eyes. "Then I will."

"But you shouldn't have to Fall!" 

"Fall or not, it won't change anything," he assures you. "I chose this path before even knowing there was a choice. I chose you from the second we were created.”

"Even if that means giving up everything?" you ask.

Jungkook’s expression softens. He reaches up and tucks a wayward lock of hair behind your ear. "Does it seem like I’m giving up everything?" he muses aloud, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because from where I stand, it seems like I’m gaining everything.”

"Smooth-talker,” you laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek. He brushes it off with his thumb, his gaze softening even further.

For a moment, you just stand there, looking at each other. It's quiet except for your breathing and the sound of waves crashing against the pier. You have been so afraid of asking him to make this choice, and yet he seems so certain about it, as if it was what he wanted all along.

"Are you sure about this?" you ask him one more time, seeking reassurance. "Once done, there's no going back."

His answer is immediate, "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

"This will change everything," you say again.

"I know," he replies simply. 

"Come find me when it's over," you whisper, placing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll be at the shelter." 

As you go to leave, you can't help but glance back over your shoulder at Jungkook, taking in the appearance of him and his wings one last time. He's still standing there, watching you go with love evident in his gaze. It quells some of your worries. And then you blink, and he’s gone.

The hours that creep by feel like days. You busy yourself with meaningless tasks, cleaning the office, flipping through an old book left on the table, scrolling TikTok. None of it does anything to dull your anxiety, and you're weighing the pros and cons of tearing your hair out before you finally hear a knock on the door. You shoot up to your feet, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you open the door, and there he stands. "I'm here," he says simply. "As I promised."

You pull him into a hug once again, burying your head into his chest. You can hear the beat of his human heart and, unable to stop yourself, you burst into tears. You know the pain he just went through, can remember experiencing it yourself like it was yesterday, and you can hardly believe he went through something so awful to be with you. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, tightening your hold on him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he coos, gently stroking your hair. "This was my choice."

You swallow hard and pull back from him so you can look into his eyes, searching for any sign of regret. You find none.

"Are you okay?" You ask anyway, your heart aching at the thought of what he has given up.

"I am," he assures, his voice full of conviction. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, and when he pulls away, he's smiling. "I wondered if doing that would feel different now that I'm fully human." 

"And does it?" you ask, smiling back up at him.

"Yes," he admits, tracing an invisible line down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver at his touch. "It feels more real. Stronger somehow. It's like you're the break of dawn after a long night." 

Your breath catches in your throat. "Being human certainly hasn't changed the fact that you have a way with words." 

"Only when it comes to you," he replies, his fingers never ceasing their journey across your skin. They make their way back to your waist, where he plays with the hem of your shirt. "There's one lesson we never covered, you know." 

"A-and what would that be?" you squeak as his fingers caress the smooth skin of your stomach.

His voice drops lower, and he tugs you closer by your belt loops. "Human intimacy."

You flush at his audacity but don't pull away. "And what would be the best way for me to teach you about that?" 

"Hm…" He leans down so that his lips hover over yours, and you can feel his warm breath with each word he speaks. "I think I would respond well to some hands-on practice."

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as his lips press against yours in a slow, searing kiss that turns your knees to jelly. He takes his time exploring your mouth, his lips moving delicately against yours. His hands are warm on your skin, trailing up and down your back as he pulls you closer. 

"Then I suppose we should get started," you manage to whisper when you finally break apart, breathless.

Jungkook moves into the room, closing the door behind him, and sits down on the edge of the pull-out bed. He stares up at you, his once-innocent doe eyes now dark and hooded with desire. You float towards him as if being pulled by a magnet, and he pulls you down so that you’re straddling his lap. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your touch. 

"I think I should warn you," he says, hands sliding down to rest right above the curve of your ass, "I might be a slow learner."

You roll your eyes, a short, playful chuckle escaping from your lips. "I think I can handle that."

The room fills with an easy silence as you continue to explore each other, experiencing sensations new for the both of you. His hands trace every curve and dip of your body, his touch curious yet surprisingly confident. Your fingers trace the lines of his face, his jaw, his chest, and then find their way under his shirt to the newly-formed scars on his back. They are rough against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the rest of his smooth skin. 

"You aren't in pain?” 

“No,” he assures you, his hands sliding to a similar position on your own back. "Were you for long after?"

"No, but I'm still worried," you smile sheepishly.

He laughs and kisses your nose. "Don't be. Don't feel like you have to be gentle with me. I won't break." 

You laugh in return, your eyes twinkling with delight and a touch of mischief. "Is that a challenge, Jungkook?" 

He hums in response, his gaze never leaving yours. "Maybe." 

His teasing reply only spurs you on. Rising to the bait, you lean in to kiss him, this time with a boldness that leaves him momentarily stunned. But he recovers quickly, matching your fervor and deepening the kiss. Your hands weave into his hair, pulling him closer, and his hips jut up against you almost involuntarily. You moan at the sensation, and he stills.

"What was that?" he asks.

"That," you breathe out, "is what human intimacy sounds like." 

"I want to hear it again." 

His lips find yours again and this time it's deep and demanding, all teeth and tongue and the promise of what’s to come. His hands grab your waist, forcing you to grind down against him as he once again lifts his hips up to meet your core. Another moan escapes your lips, the sound quickly swallowed by his hungry mouth. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, his fingertips skimming against the skin of your lower back. Eagerly, you lift your arms, and he pulls it off over your head.

"Jungkook…" you whimper, clutching at his shoulders. He responds by nuzzling into your neck, his hot breath making you shiver with pleasure. 

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against the curve of your neck, his lips tracing the column of your throat, down to your chest. 

He places a gentle kiss above each breast before descending lower still, sucking one into his mouth. His lips and tongue move expertly, drawing gasps from you as your nerves ignite with pleasure. His hands are firm on your waist, holding you securely against him as he devotes himself entirely to exploring the new terrain, and you grind against him wantonly. You can feel that your panties are soaked with the proof of your desire. 

"Jungkook," you say again, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His name is a plea, a prayer. "I need more."

He pulls back, his lips swollen from his ministrations. "And so I'll give it to you." 

You eagerly crawl off of him, shimmying out of your jeans, before settling with your back against the pillows. You grab at the air, beckoning him closer. He does the same, now only in his boxers, and slots himself on top of you, his bare skin against yours intensifying the burning desire coursing through your veins. His hard length presses against your core, and you whine.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits in a low voice, his hot breath fanning against your face as his eyes search yours for assurance.

You reach up, caressing his cheek. "It's okay," you soothe him, your hands then trailing down his back to rest on his hips, encouraging him closer. "We'll figure it out together."

His lips find your neck as his hands explore every inch of you, his rough fingers exploring the softness of your flesh. He slides one down over your stomach and lower still, feather-light touches teasing you until you're gasping beneath him. His fingers trace the edge of your panties before sliding the fabric down. You lift your hips, aiding him in removing the last barrier between you. He tosses them aside before returning his attention to you, his fingers skimming along your trembling thighs. His fingers move gradually, inching steadily upward until he's touching you where you're most sensitive. You let out a soft gasp, gripping the sheets.

"Is this okay?" he asks. You nod eagerly, unable to get the words out, and he chuckles, placing a gentle kiss at the base of your throat. "Good."

Always the over-achiever, he slides down your body until his face is level with your core, focusing intently on his work. His fingers move with a slow, calculated rhythm that quickly has you dripping for him. Eventually, he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your breath hitches, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

"Am I doing this right?" he asks, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he looks up at you from between your thighs. 

"You must be," you gasp out, encouraging him with a roll of your hips. "Don't stop."

Grinning, he adds a second finger, working you open until you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your back arches off the bed as his fingers work their magic, curling in just the right way that has you seeing stars. Praise tumbles from your lips, but you're sure that it just sounds like nonsense, your thoughts too muddled to form coherent words. 

"You're so wet," he murmurs in a low, gravelly voice that only adds fuel to your desire. 

Without warning, he lowers his mouth to your core, his lips and tongue joining his exploring fingers. The sensation is electric; your breath hitches, and an animalistic moan escapes you. He takes it as a sign of encouragement, doubling his efforts. Your fingers find their way to his hair, threading into the dark strands, seeking purchase. You can't help but pull, and he moans against you, the vibrations only furthering your pleasure. 

"Jungkook," you warn, "I'm—" 

A coil of white heat tightens within you before snapping. His name slips from your lips as you climax, sparks dancing behind your eyelids as he continues to pleasure you, eagerly lapping up your release. He doesn't stop, not until you physically pull him away from you, body shaking with overstimulation. He climbs back up your body, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

His pupils are blown out with desire, his hair slicked back with sweat, and he's so attractive that just the sight of him has you clenching your thighs together. 

You nod, cupping his face in your hands. "More than okay," you assure him. "That was amazing. Now," you slide your fingers down his chest, sliding over the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see what we can do about you."

You hook your thumbs around the fabric and pull them downwards, and he does the rest of the work, kicking them off. You reach down, your fingers tentatively wrapping around his cock. He gasps, his head falling forward against your chest as you begin to stroke him with a slow, measured rhythm. 

He nearly whines, his grip tightening on your hips. "That feels… I can't…" His words dissolve into soft, broken moans as you continue to work him over.

Suddenly overtaken with need, you stop, pulling him in for another searing kiss. "I need you inside of me, Jungkook," you gasp against his lips, "Please." 

Your hand guides him back to your core, and his breath hitches. “Are you ready?”

Nodding, you lift your hips to meet him. He pushes into you carefully, slowly, each inch an intense sensation for both of you. Your body clenches around him as if welcoming him home, a strangled moan escaping your lips. One of his hands clasps yours, bringing it to rest on the side of your head while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths fanning your skin. He's shaking against you, and you feel just as overwhelmed. 

You squeeze the hand that's holding yours, urging him on. "You're okay," you whisper, "I'm okay. Move."

He nods, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back inside of you. Your body jolts at the sensation, gasping his name over and over. 

"You feel incredible," he breathes out, the statement more for himself than for you. “So perfect.” Your fingers thread through his hair once more, pulling him down to meet your lips.

His hips set a steady rhythm, filling the room with soft sounds of skin on skin and heavy panting. He lets out a low groan as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside of you that has you crying out and grabbing at him wherever you can reach. You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your head back against the pillows.

"That's it," you whine, "Right there. It feels so good—" 

Your words cut off into a choked moan as he thrusts into you at that exact spot again and again, his movements becoming more erratic. He's close—you can tell by the way his body tenses and how he gasps desperately into your mouth. 

"I'm… I'm—" he stammers out, breath hitching between each word.

"I know," you gasp out, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Me too." 

You pull him as close as possible, holding him to you as you both chase your release. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your nails dig into his skin as a wave of pleasure crashes over you, even more intense than the last. You moan his name as you come, shuddering beneath him. He moans into your neck as he follows you over the edge, his hips bucking uncontrollably as he buries himself deep inside you. 

He collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his heavy breathing tickling your skin. He stays there, nestled inside of you, his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rapid rhythm of your own. You feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by him—his scent, his taste, the feel of him on top of you and within you. You caress his back, slowly tracing the contours of his scars with gentle strokes, the action soothing for both of you. 

Eventually, he shifts, carefully pulling himself out of you and collapsing onto his back next to you. His hand searches blindly for yours, lacing your fingers together once he finds it. He brings your joined hands up to his lips and places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"Is… are you…" He lifts his head to meet your eyes, unable to form words. 

"I'm more than okay," you assure him softly, brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead.

"Good," he whispers, a contented sigh escaping him. 

His eyes roam over your face once more before closing, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. Together, you lay there under the sheets, and the silence goes on for so long that you almost think he fell asleep. 

Then suddenly, you hear him say, voice barely above a whisper, "I love you." You look over to see him staring up at you with adoration in his gaze and a soft smile on his lips. "I know I don't have to say it since surely there can be no doubt that everything I have done for you is out of love. But I want to say it anyway. I want to continue saying it for the rest of my life. I have loved you since before I even had the capacity to feel it, and I will continue to love you until time ceases to exist."

His confession leaves you breathless, and you can do little but turn on your side, grab his face, and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"I love you too, Jungkook," you whisper against his lips, "So very, very much." 

He lets out an audible sigh of relief as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for your response. His free hand reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping away a tear that had managed to escape. "I knew you would say so, but I'm happy to hear it all the same."

The two of you get ready for bed, and, for the first time since commandeering Naomi’s office, you fall asleep together in each other's arms.

The day you have been dreading has arrived—Christmas. Despite your initial hatred, however, you find yourself actually participating in the festivities around the shelter. Just like as many others do, you aren't going to consider it a holy day. You're going to use it as an excuse to be happy and spend time with your loved ones. 

You join the group of children who sit by the pile of gifts, their excitement palpable as they eagerly wait for Naomi to declare it time to open them. Small hands tug at Jungkook’s sleeve, pulling him down to their level as they bombard him with questions about where he's been. He settles down amongst them, answering their questions as honestly as he can. His eyes meet yours over the sea of eager faces, and he stretches out a hand towards you, inviting you to join him. You sit right on his lap, making some of the kids giggle.

"Alright, everyone, it's time!" Naomi's voice echoes through the shelter, immediately quieting the children down. 

As each name is called out and the kids scramble to collect their gifts, you can't help but smile. The pure delight on their faces is infectious. Noticing your happiness, Jungkook pulls you back so that you’re leaning against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist. 

He places a gentle kiss on your neck, murmuring, "You seem happy."

"I am," you say, placing your hands over his. "The holidays aren't so bad with you around."

"I'm glad." He turns your head so he can place a quick kiss on your lips, one that is light and soft and sweet, full of love. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Jungkook," you echo, smiling brightly. 

Later, Naomi corners the two of you, pulling you aside. "I've been thinking about what to give you," she says. "I—"

"Naomi, you don't have to give me anything!"

"Don't interrupt me," she scolds, but there's no bite behind it. "Like I was saying, I was thinking it over, and I realized that the best gift I could offer is not anything material. From tomorrow on, you will officially be a supervisor. A paid supervisor." 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at Jungkook, who is beaming at you with pride. You turn back to Naomi, stuttering out a response.

"B-but Naomi, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," she interrupts, her tone firm. "From the day you arrived here, you have been working as hard as any of us. You deserve this." Before you can argue any further, she thrusts a small envelope into your hands. "Consider it an early Christmas gift and your first paycheck. And my office? It's yours."

"Thank you, Naomi," you manage, your voice choked with emotion. You pull her into a hug, hoping it can express everything you don't know how to say. 

She pats your back, chuckling. "If anything, it's an excuse for me to take some time off. I'm getting old and need to start sharing the burden. Don't expect it to be a walk in the park!"

You pull away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "Of course not. I'm ready to be worked to the bone, ma'am." 

"That's what I like to hear," she comments, her voice carrying an undertone of pride. She turns to Jungkook, her gaze soft but words sharp. "Take care of her, will you?"

"Always," he replies without a moment's hesitation, which earns him a small nod from Naomi.

Eventually, the celebrations wind down and people start to retreat to their beds until only you and Jungkook remain. Instead of doing the same, you decide to return to the pier and watch the water for a bit, not ready for the day to end. The two of you walk in comfortable silence, hands linked tightly as if promising not to let go. 

Sitting at the edge of the pier, Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His body heat seeps into your skin, fighting away the cold, and you rest your head on his chest, letting his strong, steady heartbeat lull you into contentment. 

"Who would've thought we would end up here?" you reflect, staring out at the ocean. 

Jungkook laughs softly, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. "I don't think either of us could have predicted this."

"I never thought I would be happy that any of this happened, but I am. Are you?"

His gaze softens as he takes in the sight of you. "More than I could possibly put into words," he admits. 

"Will you miss it, though? Heaven?"

"I thought I would," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "But Earth has its own kind of heaven. You're here. Naomi is here. The children are here. I have so much more yet to discover, to experience." His gaze returns to you, eyes soft and full of love. "How could I miss anything when I have all of this?”

Your heart swells at his words, his declaration warming you like nothing else could. You reach up to cup his face, your fingers lightly brushing his lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment at your touch before opening again to hold your gaze.

"You're right," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the sound of the waves. "This is our heaven. Here, with each other. And who knows, maybe we'll end up back there someday."

"You think?" Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow. "I must say, I'm a little surprised hearing that from you. I didn't think you had faith anymore or wanted it for that matter."

You shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. I don't have my original beliefs anymore, that's for sure, but I don't resent it all like I once did, either. I think I've just found a new kind of faith. A faith in myself, in people, in goodness, and in love. There are so many different kinds of religions out there, and at their core, they're all about trying to understand the world around us, trying to find ways to cope and move forward. I think that's what I'm doing now, in my own way."

"That's beautiful," Jungkook says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Somehow both simple and complex. Just like life itself, I suppose."

"And what about you, Jungkook?” you ask, pecking him on the lips. How will you move forward?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure, either. But I think I'm happy to find out, as long as it's with you." 

You hold each other close, each hoping your touch can express what no words could possibly convey. Love. Gratitude. Hope. The promise of a shared journey. What more could you possibly ask for?

TAGLIST: @yessa-vie

[ateliersss]

Together Forever

Pairing: Tsu'tey Te Rongloa Ateyitan x Fem!Reader Summary: Soon you'll be one of The People… Cross-posted on AO3: here Word Count: 733

“Am I ugly to you?”

Today was your big day, the consciousness transfer. You would become one with your avatar, leaving your human body to be with the man you love and live the life you've wanted since you first met him.

The ritual for Jake happened the day before. Never would he ever be confined to a wheelchair again. Never would he ever leave this world and his mate to wake up in a link unit. And never would you.

Tsu’tey looked at you while he gently wrapped your body in an algae-like plant like they did with Grace’s three days ago. Nothing man-made was allowed near that sacred place you would go to in a few minutes.

“What do you mean?”

“The first day you trained me and I was making a fool of myself, you said my human-self must be hideous when my dreamwalker-self is already ugly.”

Tsu’tey stopped in his tracks to look into your eyes. A rare sheepish smile appeared on his lips. “That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Tsu’tey grumbled before continuing his work. He was almost done. The plant was wrapped around your legs and arms and hid all your private parts which the na’vi had looked at with curiosity and fascination. You had been nervous the whole time and wanted to hide yourself while your mate explored your body with his eyes and hands. Not because you didn't trust him or because you didn't want him to see you, but because he had always despised and loathed humans and he might be disgusted.

What you didn't expect were the tender and careful caresses. You didn’t say a word to give him time, to let him do this in his own pace.

“All sky people are ugly.” He said in English.

Before you could even think of something you could reply with he continuied, “You are so small. So weak.”

You huffed. “That’s easy to say for someone who is a 10 foot tall blue alien.”

Tsu’tey chukled. “If anyone on this planet is an alien, it's you.“

“Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled up to him, taking his much bigger hand in yours.

Tsu'tey looked down at your intertwined hands with his usual poker face, but his eyes held all the love for you within them. “You are beautiful, you have always been beautiful. In this body or another. From the day I caught you in the forest with Jakesully to days I taught you all about us to our mating. You made me feel... something. That hasn't changed for a second. Not even now that you look like this.”

You sat there before him, stunned at his words. In the short time you spent getting close on a more intimate level, you realized that he wasn't a man of big words when it comes to expressing feelings. Nothing surprising. Rather, he showed his affection in a different way - going out into the woods to hunt and present you his prey; saving food for you when you arrived later at Hometree; gifting you clothes, weapons, holsters; giving you feathers, beads, pearls and other trinkets for your hair.

He had shown off his strength and skills with those gestures and you didn’t even realize he had been courting you.

Physical touch like holding hands, wrapping his arms around your waist or his tail around yours, cuddling or even kissing followed shortly after that but those moments were kept private.

However, after the revelation of your mating, some of it happend more and more often in front of the others. The revelation had been a disaster and caused an agitation within the Omatikaya clan but his promised mate had already chosen another as well. After that he didn't waste a moment to show others that you belonged to him. He was always by your side, holding you close to him while still looking like his strong and intimidating self.

You stood to be on an equal footing, took his face in your hands, and rested your forehead against his.

This short moment of togetherness was quickly interrupted by an awkward throat clearing.

“You’re ready? It’s time.” Jake said with a sly grin. Neytiri stood with a soft look on her face next to him.

You just rolled your eyes and looked back at Tsu’tey with an excited smile. 

“Soon you and I can be together forever.”

[justrainandcoffee]

“Good Morning” (Tom Hardy x fem!oc)

Part 1 of the series: “Only for tonight”

Summary: It's 2012 when Hannah received a call from an important executive to work with them. She's a great musician only until that moment she didn't have the chance to really show her natural talent. The BBC offered her the opportunity to finally do it and at the same time the opportunity to meet him. || Three years later, everything is very different. Two different realities linked by the same phrase: “good morning.”

Warnings: None. Although there's some angst towards the end. || This is pure fiction. All names are made up except his. Even in future chapters all filmography named here was invented. || The story is divided in past (2012) and present (2015)

Words: 2.7 k. || Remember that English isn't my first language. Please, consider leave a comment or reblog considering this is the first time i post this and still don't know what I'm doing 👉👈����.

Three years ago.

Hannah Murphy was born in London a morning in middle of May. His father was architect, her mother owner of a several beauty centres and her eldest brother was a neurosurgeon now working in Boston, United States.

Big things were expected from Hannah. Maybe being a doctor like Eric, her brother, or having a PhD in Economics like one if her cousins because first and foremost, the Murphys were successful people. Her grandfather, Mr. Andrew Murphy, was the one who designed the building for one of the most important corporations that existed nowadays in England. So, considering that everyone had their eyes on her, even as kid. But Hannah W. Murphy wasn't born with numbers and theories in her veins, she was born with music.

"You're wasting your life," her mother said when she was 10 and her father accepted to take her to a conservatory of music to learn to play piano. "Look at Eric, he's reading books that are for advanced students! And you're nothing compared to him, Hannah. Music! What kind of shit is that?"

But Hannah knew, even when she was 10, that music it was going to be her life. And she was right.

"Your daughter has a gift," one of her teachers said not longer after she started to study there.

But Greta Murphy, her mother, insisted on study something that could give her a name in the future and her brother thought the same as her. The only one who supported her was her father, Andrew Murphy jr, who was also the only one who went to her first solo in a theatre when she was 15.

Hannah was 16 when one of her plays, composed by herself, was part of a local play. Small, but it gave her some money and the hopes that her dreams could be possible.

Yet, when she finishes school, to stop hearing her mother for once, she decided to study engineering.  During those years, she didn't stop writing music but she just kept it to herself.

At the age of 23, she finished her career and threw the diploma in front of her Great. Hannah never worked as engineer.

Teaching kids and offering her music to different people who was interested in her talent, she was able to earn enough money to rent her own apartment and lm have her the freedom she was craving for.

Seven years later Hannah Murphy, 30 years old, was about to face the biggest change of her whole life.

She was walking Solomon, her black staffy and the most brainless dog in the whole world, when her phone on her pocket started to vibrate. It was an unknown number but she answered anyway.

"Hannah speaking."

"Ms. Murphy?" A female voice on the other side of the line made her stop walking.

"Yes?"

"Good morning, Miss Murphy I'm calling you in name of Mr. Henry Atwood, he wants to have an appointment with you, miss Murphy."

The first Henry Atwood that crossed her mind was the director and executive producer the BBC had and the brain of one of her favourite tv shows the last years. But the idea of someone calling her and saying that  that Henry Atwood wanted to see her was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Who's Henry Atwood? and how did you get my number?"

"Mr. Atwood, the tv producer," by her voice tone, Hannah believed that the girl considered her stupid. "I'm his secretary and I got your number because he asked for it to one of the directors you worked with."

"Scott?"

"Mr. Scott, yes"

If it wasn't because she was in middle of a park, Hannah could've screamed.

Travis Scott was a director working on a play and he asked her to help his team with the music. Finally after several failed meetings she ended up working alone and the final result in Travis's words was "the best fucking thing he ever heard."

That was four months ago but she didn't know that he knew Atwood and even less than he was going to receive a call from him. Or his secretary to be more specific.

"Ms. Murphy?"

"I'm sorry I'm trying to understand what's happening… I- the answer is yes! If he wants, yes of course I can. I just need to know when."

"Great. I'll make an appointment, then."

.

Two days later a very nervous Hannah was waiting for Atwood in the waiting room. It was perfectly tidy, with magazines on the glass table, some flyers prompting the movies and TV shows to come and some from previous months. The tiles shone reflecting the lamps on the ceiling.

Hannah felt stupidly nervous. Most people there arranged things thanks to secretaries or managers but she didn't have any of those. She had a dog without brain cells and she was sure Solomon didn't know how to talk. Although she did know that the staffy was the best to calm her and right now she needed his comfort.

Hannah would remember that day for the rest of her life. It was 20th of June, 11:30 am and it was a  guy talking about the European football league on the radio sounding in the background when he saw him for the first time. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans. He'd have been any other man but he wasn't.

"Good morning," Tom said to her who was sitting in the chair next to the office's door, so still that she wasn't sure that was even blinking.

"Good morning," she managed to say.

Don't be awkward.

Tom smiled before walking towards the elevator "call me, okay?" he said to the other man.

"I will."

Both him and Hannah look at Tom go. "Quite a character," he said. "You are Hannah, right? I'm Henry Atwood."

Hannah was still seeing the corridor where he disappeared from their sight and Atwood couldn't help but chuckle.

"Tom Hardy," she said "It was him?"

"Yeah, it was him. We hired him for future our project. And I have an offer for you, too, But please first, come in."

Hannah called Betty, her best friend, as soon as she left the building like if everything was a dream. All was so surreal that she needed something to drink and to eat to process what just happened. Both women went to a pub, ordered beer and fish and chips.

"The main theme?" Betty asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh, my god! Your mother is going to freak out and probably pass out. Imagine her telling her friends about this."

"She's going to say that the BBC isn't Hollywood and no one outside England is going to see it. And probably she's going to say that the music is horrible."

"She doesn't know a shit about music."

"But she does know how to destroy people. Believe me, I know."

"Then fuck her. Don't tell her a word, better that way."

"I won't."

"But you already signed the papers?"

"No. I mean I said yes, but I need to make it official. I'm going to read it tonight and then sign them. Fuck me, I can't believe it."

Betty smiled at her Hannah couldn't help but imitate her. That was a good day.

Good morning.

Hannah was very tempted to say to her about her seeing Tom inside the building, but suddenly she felt really silly.  What she was going to say? Do you know I saw Tom Hardy today and he said good morning to me? Besides, it was something so random and something that Hannah believed that wasn't going to happen again that she felt unnecessary to say it.

Next week, Hannah returned to the BBC building with the papers signed and her hopes higher than ever before. Hannah was happy and it was good. Not long ago she ended a relationship that left her with debts, without her motorbike but with Solomon. The only good thing the bastard did was abandoning the dog in her house. Solomon was just an eight-month puppy, playful and sweet, but according to his ex, he was just a waste of money. As if he himself wasn't a waste of money and oxygen.

So these unexpected good news was exactly what she needed. And her first salary was more than welcome.

"There's a meeting this Friday. The whole team," Henry Atwood said. "Including you."

"Including me? But I have nothing to do with the cast."

"That's the point. It's not just the cast. There are always new ideas to add or to erase from the plot, suggestions, new plans. Etc… maybe you can create something even more great if you know what it's this about. Can you come?"

"Yes, I'm free, so… yes!"

"Good then!" Henry offered her a big smile and his hand to shake it "Welcome aboard, Hannah."

Hannah preferred to be one of the firsts to arrive there instead of being there late. It was her first meeting and officially it was also her first day at work. It'd be considered rude to be there late. Not to mention that the idea of people looking at her was something she wasn't used to. Not without her piano as shell, at least.

The meeting office was big and chairs and tables were in a circle so everyone could look at the rest.

Hannah couldn't help but felt nervous. The idea of working for them suddenly hit her in her face with fury.  On her first day at work, she had to leave the office and find an empty place to calm herself. She felt sick and she was hyperventilating. Her mother's voice in her head didn't help at all "You're going to fail, because you're a failure."

"Look at your brother, head of the surgeon committee of Boston."

"Your music is quite mediocre."

"Shut up! Shut up!" she said to herself resting her forehead on the cold window that was in that corridor. The last thing she needed that special day was her mother and her awful vibes with her. "Please, go away."

Hannah closed her eyes and tried to think about good things. Her dog, her best friend, her piano… she imagined herself sitting in front of it and tried to breathe normally again.

"Are you okay?" A male voice brought her again to reality.

Hannah gasped and back off surprised by the unexpected company.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry," he said.

It took Hannah few seconds to recognise that Tom was in front of her, but when she did it, she rushed to reply. "Yes, yes. I- uhm, I was nervous and I felt anxious. I needed to clean my mind. It happens, from time to time."

"Are you sure?"

Hannah nodded as Tom walked to the water dispenser and offered seconds later a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said smiling briefly.

People tend to see celebrities as deities, not humans. Because of course they're people but also, they're beyond of what could be considered approachable. Not everyone could be near one. And suddenly Hannah was few inches away from a famous actor that seemed to be concerned about her. Like, indeed, any good person in the world could be worried about another. Famous or not.

"I started today," Hannah said "I think my brain felt I couldn't do it."

"It's normal, a new job make everyone feel nervous. You'll be fine. You'll see. What's your name?"

"Hannah Murphy."

"The composer," Tom said. His voice denoted surprised and he smiled at her "Henry talked a lot about you. You're a little celebrity here."

"Oh, please, no! I'm just- I'm not. I Just play the piano."

"It seems to me that more than that. Were you in the meeting?"

"I tried to be there before feeling sick."

"Come on, Hannah. They'll love you, don't worry about it."

Tom smiled at her again and something in his reassuring made her feel better. Together they entered in the meeting room.

___

Now. Three years later.

The apartment was still dark, the windows were closed despite the morning was a reality. She could hear the cars, people… even birds. Everything was the proof that outside those walls nothing changed.

Hannah didn't sleep in the whole night in that bed  that now semeed to be awfully big for her. The empty spot.

She didn't want to cry again, but new tears appeared in her eyes.

Where was her morning kiss on her shoulder? The beard tickling her skin? The "let's stay five more minutes"? His morning coffee, too strong for her taste, but whose smell was synonymous with the beginning of a new day?

It's not like Hannah didn't break up with another person before… but never before everything hurt that way.

Tap tap tap.

Solomon was wagging his tail against the wooden floor because he saw her moving in bed. Against all odds, she smiled briefly. She pat the mattress and the dog didn't waste time to jump and snuggle with her in a single motion. His big head was now on her chest and she caressed it with her hand.

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

The animal looked at her. He didn't know anything about broken hearts, empty beds and tears. But he could feel her sadness. He'd wait for his breakfast until she felt better. Solomon settled closer to her.

It was 10am when she finally decided to go out of bed. The sun was shining, the city was indeed awake long time ago. Looking through the window she'd say that everything was the same. Only it wasn't.

Her phone was full of messages from her family and friends. Especially Betty. But Hananh didn't have the energy to deal with them, especially not her mother that for sure was ready to say that she was nothing but a disgrace, not even smart enough to keep a relationship with the best man she ever found. And for the first time in her life, Hannah hated the feeling that her mother was right.

She sat on her couch with a cappuccino mug in her hands and some toasts on a plate. On a chair on the opposite side of the living room still was one of his T-shirts, one that she stole from his wardrobe and ended its days as her pyjamas. She didn't use it for a while and she didn't want to touch it now, afraid that it'd smell like him.

The memories of the previous night overwhelmed her. It was her fault, she knew. For being too weak. Her mother was right, she wasn't like the rest of them, never was.

The sound of a new message caught her attention. She didn't need to see who it was. That was his ringtone, she personalized it long time ago.

Hannah took her phone and read the message.

[Can we talk? Ily]

Hannah pictured Tom in his house with his own dog next to him. His phone next to his nose because probably his glasses were somewhere where he couldn't find them.

She ruined it.

She received a new message from him.

[Pooh, let's talk]

Hannah broke into new tears when she read her nickname. No one before him ever called her Pooh. And everything started the moment he knew her second name was Winifred. Winnie. Hannah hated the name and she always used just the W, as reference for it. But with Tom, Hannah learnt to love her second name, even before dating. Or maybe it was because it was him.

Hannah called Tom.

He answered before the second ring, for a moment no one talked until he did "Good morning, Pooh."

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

So post Beyond the Spider-Verse. Miles and Gwen have things patched up, you know those two are EXHAUSTED and Peter B. is gonna turn around from whatever celebration they're having (they BETTER end this movie with a cookout if Miles' parents learn he's Spider-Man) and you've got Gwen curled into Miles passed out while Miles is snoring. Gwen's got her hood pulled up to keep the lights out of her eyes and Miles' jacket is spread across them.

I like this idea, mind if I write a bit about it with some variants?

Headcanon: Gwen when she is sleepy defaults to following people who she is close to; Miles may be closer to the top of the list that he may realize.

AO3 link

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In a liminal space, we still find ourselves reaching for each other

As much as Miles wanted to kiss his parents goodnight and hit the bed, Peter's proposition to stop by his house to recharge seemed like the best idea.

He still needed to tell his parents that he was Spiderman, and maybe would be better to do it when he is less beaten down and with some sleep. Miles isn't sure when was the last time he slept; dimension hoping made time very confusing.

As they stepped into the house in Queen's (Miles assumed it was the living room but he couldn't be too sure,) Mary Jane stepped in from another room. It was kind of weird knowing who she is without even being presented first.

"Hi, I'm-" He started, a bit slower than he would like to. Too many hits in the head for one day.

"Miles" She completed seamlessly, smiling brightly at him as she put her hands on his shoulders "I had heard so much about you," And out of nowhere, she hugged him "Thank you for bringing him back to me," she told her in a really low voice, one he wasn't sure if it was meant just for him or not.

As tired and beaten down as he felt, he couldn't help but smile fondly as he awkwardly hugged her back. It was a good reminder too, that some of the greatest things he did weren't for being Spider-man, just by being Miles.

"C'mon honey, let the kid breathe," Peter says as he walks up to them.

"And you-" Mary Janes puts a finger on his chest, she doesn't look especially pleased but not too angry "I imagined it was serious when you went back to leave Mayday with me, but what happened? All of you look like you were thrown into a blender."

"Is a loooong story," Peter said, putting his hands up as he is trying to placate her anger, "Speaking of which, I promised them they could crash here until they recharge, hope that's okay-"

"Hmph," Mary Jane crosses her arms, looking at her husband unimpressed "I prefer a little bit more of a warning when you invite people, but I guess this was an emergency. Help me out to get some stuff for our guest."

"On it ma'am," He said with a mocking salute, to which she rolled her eyes before going to what seemed to be the kitchen. Despite how tired Peter B should be, he smiled brightly at them and said "Relax guys, my house is your house."

"Don't need to tell me twice mate," Hobie said as he looked around for a place where to drop dead, which seemed to be everyone's idea. They were all beaten down.

Miles, despite being ready to sleep for an eternity, followed Peter B and Mary Jane because even half dead his upbringing was stronger than any tiredness could be, and he could hear his mom in the back of his head saying "Be polite, bring a gift, and ask if you can help with anything they may need when you are visiting someone!"

Sadly he couldn't bring anything after trying to defy fate and time itself, but at least he could still be nice.

Aparently the couple didn't realize he was following them, because when Mary Jane turned around with cups in her hands she said "Oh Miles! Do you need anything?"

The place was homey, almost in an old-timey way. Pictures everywhere, a floral wallpaper that reminded him of white old ladies, but the warmth he feel around wasn't exactly for the warm lighting.

The kitchen seemed to have the same vibe, kind of similar to the one the Aunt May of his universe had.

"Um, I was going to ask if you guys needed any help?"

"Oh you are sweetheart," She said cheerily, before softly shaking her head "But you don't need to do anything, you are our guest and you had done more for us than you can ever imagine; please go to rest."

"You hear the lady, sit this one out, we will handle it," Peter said as he patted his back, before looking behind Miles and saying "Hey Gwen, you want anything?"

Miles turned around once he saw Peter looking behind him. Gwen stood at the entrance to the kitchen, she has been so quiet Miles also didn’t hear her come.

At the sound of her name, Gwen straightened her back and blinked a bit, as if she has been falling asleep on her feet, yet somehow she has decided to follow them here for some reason.

As she looked on to the front, she seemed to have the faintest blush, before she groaned and scrubbed her eyes “No, I- sorry, I guess I need some sleep.”

“Oh you can say that for all of us,” Peter laughed gleefully, before leaning his head to the side for Miles “You guys go to the living room, we will see if we can whip something quick to eat and see what we can do about emergency sleep arrangements.”

As they went to the other room, Miles realized that everybody has somehow found an answer to that last issue.

The living room had two loveseats and one armchair, and everyone more or less had found a place. On the loveseat that closest to the entrance, Noir was sleeping with Peni and Ham in his arms, Peni’s robot was turned off in a corner, and on the arm closest to Peni’s and Noir’s head was a hologram that read “Say ‘Spider-byte’ to bring user’s attention. P.S: Don’t wake me up unless the dimensions are collapsing.”

Pavitr has decided to go on the armchair, and you would believe he has been sleeping there for a long time because his head was hanging on the side, one of his legs was on the arm of the couch and the other lying against where your back is supposed to go. If it wasn’t because he was breathing fine, Miles would have thought he lost conscience and someone drop his body from the ceiling.

Speaking of the ceiling, even with one more loveseat available, Hobie had opted to make a hammock out of webbing as close to the ceiling as possible, on a corner of the room. From his position, Miles thought Hobie was using his mask on; maybe he needed more darkness to sleep than he needed to breathe properly.

At least it meant his decision was easy.

Dragging his feet on the ground, he let himself fall onto the side of the loveseat, he would have rejoiced in glee at how soft the couch felt against his beaten body if he himself wasn’t so tired.

Yet he didn’t have time to even sigh before he felt someone else not only fall right beside him but had her head leaning towards him. Miles felt himself go still as he felt the warmth of Gwen right beside him.

Despite the loveseat being big enough to have space for both of them.

How rigid his body was must have alerted Gwen because her eyes fluttered open, and seemed to look a bit confused towards him before she almost jumped on her spot and moved away enough that their bodies weren’t touched anymore.

“Shoot,” She muttered to herself before she hit her forehead “Sorry, when I am sleepy I just- sorry.”

Perhaps is because he was tired and his mind was making stuff up, but somehow things were starting to click in his head. The sleepiness in Gwen seemed to make her follow someone, and for reasons beyond his understanding, Miles has been the person she has decided to attach herself to, even if subconsciously.

“That’s different” Gwen had said to him before in the Williamsburg Tower, saying it as if somehow what they had was different from what she had with anybody else. That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and yet his heartbeat raced all the same.

There were still a lot of things to talk about, of the lies and the secrets that she has keep, and how he has been feeling about all of this. Even now he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Is fine, we are all tired,” He said casually, before raising the arm that was closest to her side, “Come here, we can catch some zzz together.”

And regardless of all of it, he felt himself wanting to reach out to her too, missing her warmth even if he only got to have it for a second.

In a way, that’s what had ended up happening to him, wasn’t it? She came for what should have been just a blink in his lifetime, and he still was unable to let her go.

Her eyes opened slightly, as if she was surprised he had actually said that; probably thinking all the same things that were still between them and neither of them had the brain to talk about. He saw the hesitation in her eyes, as if she herself wasn’t sure if it was okay to accept.

Maybe it was a bit of wishful thinking on his part to think that way, as he said “Is okay, you can lean on me Gwen.”

Miles has really meant that in a literal way, even if deep down, he knew he meant it all the way. As upset as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her, not when they were like this.

That seemed to be all the encouragement that she needed, because she quickly went back to his side, in fact so quick he was a bit shocked.

“Thanks,” she whispered to him, bringing her knees up to her chest as she rested her head on his shoulder, one of her arms hugged Miles’ waist as her other hand was left between her knees.

As it was the most natural thing in the world, his arms went around her, holding onto her as he rested his head on top of hers, “No problem.”

Despite the pain, the couch and still being in his suit, it was the best sleep he had in months.

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This was supposed to be a drabble, oops?

I Will upload this to ao3, may as well. I like it more than I expected for something that I made on a whim.

Sorry for not having any analysis yet, I am kind of sick and I feel my brain is fried 80% of the time, HaShem knows how I managed work like this.

Hope you guys like it!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a Manipulative Piece of Shit: Part 3/?

The Prophecy

In the first post in this series, I mentioned having reason to doubt the validity and truth of the prophecy regarding Voldemort and Harry. This is this post.

Although I don't have definitive proof the prophecy is a lie, I have plenty of circumstantial evidence that sheds reasonable doubt on the prophecy and Dumbledore's interpretation of it.

(link to part 2, for those interested)

Exhibit 1: The Location

So, we know how this goes:

“I did,” said Dumbledore. “On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog’s Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave.”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 840)

“That might, indeed, have been the more practical course,” said Dumbledore, “except that Voldemort’s information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog’s Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My — our — one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building.”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 843)

The reason I'm bringing this up is this specific part of the quote above in particular:

The Hog’s Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness

Since when does an interview prospect for the position of Hogwarts professor choose the location of the interview?

We know that when Tom Riddle came to his interview for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position in 1967, the interview was held in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts:

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment. “Good evening, Tom,” said Dumbledore easily. “Won’t you sit down?” “Thank you,” said Voldemort, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured — the very seat, by the looks of it, that Harry had just vacated in the present. “I heard that you had become headmaster,” he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. “A worthy choice.” “I am glad you approve,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “May I offer you a drink?” “That would be welcome,” said Voldemort. “I have come a long way.” Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 441)

Why would Dumbledore choose to hold Trelawney's interview in the Hogs-Head? Because it was his choice. He could've interviewed her in his office like he had Tom Riddle. But no, he preferred the cheap inn, run by a brother who hates him and is known for attracting less reputable sorts (including Death Eaters) in the middle of a war?

And even if he is holding the interview in the hogs-Head, let's say he has a good reason for it, why not make sure he wasn't overheard in such a place? We know its possible with the Imperturbable Charm.

Turning to Fred and George she said, “It’s no go with the Extendable Ears, she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 69)

Because if Molly Weasley can cast this charm, surely Dumbledore can.

Or the Muffliato Charm that Snape has invented by that point:

and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 238)

But no, instead he made sure to be in a place where he was likely to be spied on and took no precautions against it, even though he could've held the interview in the safety of Hogwarts.

The only conclusion I can draw is that he wanted to be overheard. That he wanted some Death Eater to hear the prophecy and take it to Voldemort.

Exhibit 2: The Circumstances

But why? Why would he want Voldemort to hear a prophecy that would make him target an innocent baby?

Well, Dumbledore was in a rough spot in May of 1980 when the prophecy was made. Voldemort practically controlled the ministry and did as he pleased (even though, it wasn't much). The Order of the Phoenix had 15 of its members and member families killed from August 1979 to that interview.

Dumbledore and the Order were losing. And they were losing badly.

Arthur Weasley says:

“Oh, Molly, come on, it’s about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time, you weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 177)

By 1980, if Dumbledore wanted to win, he needed a miracle. And that's when he was approached by Trelawney approached him.

If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say he held a normal interview in the castle, and in that interview, she made a real prophecy about Harry and Voldemort, but not the one we hear. Dumbledore heard the prophecy and knew he'd have to orchestrate the circumstances of Halloween 1981 if he wanted to end Voldemort. So he did.

He gave Trelawney a script, and he made sure to be somewhere a wizard down on their luck who wouldn't stand the temptation to spy on him would overhear and sell the information to Voldemort. I don't know if Dumbledore specifically intended for it to be Snape, but maybe? I don't know.

But I know he made sure Voldemort got hold of the prophecy, or at least part of it so Dumbledore could set Voldemort's demise into motion.

Exhibit 3: The Only Time We Hear the Prophecy

Now, we would never know what the true prophecy said, since it was smashed.

The only source we have for the full prophecy is the word of Albus Dumbledore. Well, his word and his odd memory:

Then, with a sigh, he raised his wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip. A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and she revolved slowly, her feet in the basin. But when Sibyll Trelawney spoke, it was not in her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones Harry had heard her use once before. “THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES. . . . BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES . . . AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT . . . AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES. . . . THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES. . . .” The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 841)

No other memory Harry sees in the pensive behaves this way. Harry always places his head in the pensive and is sucked into the memory, to walk in it. It's how a pensive always worked.

Except for this one singular instance, in which it shows a "memory" like a hologram, like an illusion.

I don't think this is a memory at all, just from how different it is described from any other memory. For context, pensive memories are described like this in the same book:

Harry walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. He hesitated, listening, then pulled out his wand again. The office and the corridor beyond were completely silent. He gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of his wand. The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. Harry leaned forward over it and saw that it had become transparent. He was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling. . . . In fact, unless he was much mistaken, he was looking down upon the Great Hall. . . .His breath was actually fogging the surface of Snape’s thoughts. . . .His brain seemed to be in limbo. . . . It would be insane to do the thing that he was so strongly tempted to do. . . . He was trembling. . . . Snape could be back at any moment . . . but Harry thought of Cho’s anger, of Malfoy’s jeering face, and a reckless daring seized him. He took a great gulp of breath and plunged his face into the surface of Snape’s thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping Harry headfirst into the Pensieve. . . . He was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then — He was standing in the middle of the Great Hall

(Order of the Pheonix, page 640)

Even if I did take the prophecy at face value, which is a big if, I can interrupt it in multiple ways. I'll give one example:

The third line:

BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES

Sure, it can refer to July, the seventh month in the Julian calendar we use today. But before Julius Caesar and Agustus (the Roman emperors) added months named after them, September was the seventh month. It's why it's called September — "Septima" means "seven" in Latin. September is literally named "the seventh month".

And that's without talking about other calendars, that have a whole different system to their months.

Or the Line before it:

BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM

What exactly counts as defying? It's so vague any disagreement could be considered a defiance. Is it battle? Is it that he offered James and Lily to join him and they refused?

Vagueness means it could mean literally anything and puts the whole interpretation of the prophecy in question.

Conclusions

So, we have a prophecy that was made under odd circumstances, where the only source we have to it is supposedly a memory of a powerful Legilemense that knows how to edit memories.

There isn't exactly cutting evidence the prophecy is fake, but I think there's enough here to make us doubt its validity along with its intentions and interpretation.

[drgngutz]

P. - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Prologue

I've decided to cross post this from wattpad, since the teaser I posted seemed to be received so well. If you like this, and would rather get updates right away, I'll post the link to wattpad on my master list :)

I'll be starting a tag list for people who want to be notified for updates and don't use wattpad.

Hope u enjoy, <33

The bustling city created noise all around me. Over the years it's become the background for my rambling thoughts. The rapid and angry beeping of cars, which were always dodging the just-as-angry pedestrians, was as common of an occurrence as the construction going on across from the orphanage's scrawny apartment building. There was rarely ever a time of silence in the big city. The endless annoyance tended to grate on my nerves, and the days were passing slower and slower. A constantly parentless child in her last weeks of high school, there was barely enough money to make ends meet, much less move somewhere quieter. The side job at the convenience store wasn't working out, and having to care for the other kids in the orphanage with such a small amount was getting me nowhere. 

Sighing, I stopped my trudging footsteps and turned my head towards the underside of my arm.

'Hey, I caught you! -M.D.L'

It made me feel worse every time I saw it; the fancy script that tattooed my forearm, close to my wrist and scribed in black ink. The perfectly unmarred scrawls used to make my stomach flip in excitement when I looked at it, but now it was just a constant reminder of what I was lacking. My own soulmate; just another person that didn't seem to want me. 

Most people find their soulmates early in life, since we're gifted the markings of a soulmate at birth. The marks are hereditary depending on what kind you have, ranging from first words spoken (like my own), to seeing a glowing red string attached to their fingers; it all depends on what kind you inherited from your family. People can discover their soulmates as early as ten, though it's globally averaged they meet each other around sixteen to seventeen years old. 

I was seventeen now, and in my final year of high school, so everyday that passed without hearing those words, the more nervous I got. It was possible that I would never meet them with a soulmate mark that didn't give me any information. I couldn't track them, find a picture of them, or communicate with them. Some people on this overpopulated earth are unlucky enough to never meet their soulmate; even unluckier people are born without a mark to match with someone else's. I was more scared of the first option.

No matter how many times I posted online, searched the match websites, or attended special 'soulmate conventions' where thousands gathered in order to meet new people, I still hadn't found mine. Most of the students in my classes had found theirs, and more than ever I felt the peer pressure of needing to find mine. The few friends I had whispered behind my back, some were pitiful, some just flat-out criticizing me for not finding them yet; not that they really counted as friends anymore. To make matters worse, the women who ran the orphanage often reminded me that it was only a matter of time before I would have to leave and make a home of my own. There were years wasted with foster families who I hoped would give me a way out spilled down the drain, only to never stay for too long. Then, I was back at square one. 

The soonest way I could leave this place would be with the support from my soulmate. 

Leaning against the railing of a bridge that I crossed to-and-from school, I stared up at the gloomy sky, feeling the beginnings of rain build up into a thin layer of moisture on my skin. The cars sped by, whirring with life as they switched between lanes or sped past others who were going too slow for their liking. 

If I could speed past this point of my life like those cars, past the dullness of each passing day, past the hopelessness of my future; I would take that chance in a heartbeat. I could open a new chapter of my life, try to find some sense of self, maybe get the chance to find my passions. I loved the kids at the orphanage, them being my only 'family' left in this world, but it wasn't the same when compared to the idea of finding the one person you belong with. Someone who wants you for all that you are. I've been looking for that my whole life.

A low creak sounded, then a snap! Soon, I didn't have the support of the railing behind me.

Blinded by my brief desperation, I didn't readily take notice that I was starting to fall backwards; Stunned silent as I watched the metal rail of the bridge swing in disconnection above me. Small pieces of the metal followed my tracks as I began the plummet towards the rushing waters of the river below.

Stomach in my throat, I couldn't scream even if I wanted to. Falling silently to my death, heart racing, the delayed fear kicking in when I heard less of the rumbling cars and more of the rushing water beneath me. I finally started to understand that I was going to die.

My hair whipped around, a gust of wind blowing it into my eyes. I closed them instinctively, gritting my teeth with all of my muscles tensed so tight that they began to cramp.

I couldn't breath, couldn't see, couldn't feel.

The river below me flew and clashed with a ferocity; like the gnashing teeth of a beast.

It all went numb.

And then, I couldn't hear anything.

...

Slowly, I could register a difference. The soft sound of rushing wind around me. It was a lot warmer, coupled with the lack of the river noise from before. It was almost... gentle.

"Am I... dead?" I hadn't realized the words were said out loud until I felt my lips move, barely hearing my whispers over the wind, which was billowing harshly and picking up speed.

Opening my eyes I was met with a bright blue sky, the sun shining through the fluffy white clouds that were splattered across the scene. A small bird crossed the sky in front of me, blocking the rays of the sun for just a moment before it was out of sight again.

I blinked, wondering if I really was dead, before gazing at the (h/c) hairs that were flowing around my view.

Dazed, I took a glance below me.

It looked like a very large body of water; an ocean, to be exact.

What the hell was an ocean doing in the city?

Speaking of the city, there was none. It was vast, open space. Not a single landmass in sight. So, I was falling towards the ocean. An ocean that just sort of appeared, and not the river that I was previously about to drown in.

It took another moment before realizing the repeating danger; I was falling. Falling towards my death a second time. And at this height, a height much higher than when I had fallen off of the bridge, all of my bones would break and be pushed into my body. If the current didn't kill me, then the internal bleeding definitely would.

Tears bubbled up in my eyes. When my brain and body caught up to each other, I realized how close I had gotten to the water, and I was screaming shrilly before I could stop myself.

Terror ripped through me. After just having to accept the idea of dying in my fall off of the bridge, I was now flung into another gruesome death; but this time my brain had enough time to understand what was going on. There was no surviving this. I was either in hell, or stuck in my last moments; experiencing the fear of my own death on repeat. My vision was blurry as I choked on a sob.

The water was getting close... close, closer still.

Did I really have to go through this again? Was there no way I could survive this?

The instinctual, fearful process started again when I got within two-hundred feet of the water. I could hear the gentle lapping of the waves, now.

My teeth and eyes clenched shut, muscles tensing again to brace for the pain, heart racing for the incoming impact.

This was it. I was going to die. Again.

When the waves became the only thing that I could hear anymore, I felt a sudden pressure around my abdomen.

I was yanked to the side with a whiplash that was near breakneck speed. Grabbing at the squishy material around my waist for some sort of support, I opened my eyes right before I whacked into something solid. With a cry, we were both sent sprawling to the ground.

A low groan vibrated the object that I was now laying on, warm and firm, before I repeated the same sound; body aching from the fearful tension and then the rough collision. The surface beneath us rocked side to side, and I had to place a hand on the wooden boards beneath us to steady my trembling body before I fell over. Now on my knees between his thighs, I heard a shuffling in front of me.

Shaking my head, I opened my teary eyes to find the face of a boy right in front of mine. When our gazes met, he broke out into an enormous, adorable smile.

"Hey, I caught you!"

Chapter One

[aethon-recs]

January 2023 Tomarrymort One-Shots

I wasn't planning to do a month-by-month rec list, but my god did January deliver on one-shots — so many showstopping works were published this month that these 10 fics deserve their own post. And what a variety too(!), with fics ranging from A/B/O to love potion mishaps to fem!Harry, and even canon-compliant(-ish) Harrymort.

Criteria for this list: one-shot, complete, published in January 2023 (yes, in the last month alone!)

Why one-shots?, you may ask. The majority of what I read is chaptered works and longfics, but I think one-shots can be a bit overlooked and underrated — they don't have ongoing updates on AO3, and the first rec lists in this ship that I encountered were dominated by longfics. So I wanted to celebrate and highlight the amazing work that the writers in this fandom are doing in short-form writing. Also, one-shots tell a full story arc in one go — and isn't that wonderful to get plot resolution and closure in a single sitting?

(Thank you also for dropping recs into my ask box! Please keep them coming!!)

*

Tomarrymort Recs (January 2023)

a dream is a wish by @funkyatheart (E, 5k)

This was such a delight to read from beginning to end. Cleverly weaved in between the canon events of book 5 are SUPER HOT dream-sharing sequences that show the escalation of Harry's increasing fascination with Voldemort. And we're gifted with hemipenes and consciousness-sharing through their mental link — what more can I can ask for from a Harrymort smut scene??

A Special Day by @vdoshu (E, 3.5k)

My jaw was ON. THE. FLOOR. for this whole fic. Grumpy old man Voldemort with all his old man habits was such a delight to read about — I don't think I've ever seen this concept done before. And when Harry shows up, the narrative tension is so good and kept me on the edge of my seat. I can't say much more without giving things away, but I definitely recommend this as one of the most unique and twisted concepts I've ever read in Harrymort.

Banish Me to the Garden of Eden by @contrarywiseizybel (M, 7k)

Rich, sumptuous descriptions run through this entire fic and bring to life — very vividly — the entire story arc of Harry locked up in a tower as Voldemort's captive and how he gradually comes to make the best of his fate. The author's writing is so poetic and lyrical and makes really good use of repetition, which gives the whole fic a very fairy-tale-like quality (including the happily-ever-after ending!)

Bruises Like Violets by @noumena-writes (E, 3k)

A forbidden romance between Tom and Harry who are on opposite sides of the war makes their last tryst VERY high-tension and fraught with danger. As always, noumena's writing is full of so many gorgeous and richly detailed phrases, like "The raging fire that burnt through every angry spell was slowly eating away at Harry, leaving a battle-weary shadow in his place." Absolute 🔥 writing.

Cherish by @amors-mordre (G, 1k)

This fic gave me the absolute chills in just 800 words. Voldemort is at his manipulative best here, as well as absolute peak possessiveness. The dynamic between Voldemort and captive Harry is delightfully creepy and leaves you craving more.

his lady in crimson (who reaches through time) by @ellorypurebloodculture (M, 5k)

This was such a cool non-traditional time-travel story! All the descriptions of fem!Harry and her outfits are absolutely gorgeous — I don't think I've come across this level of detail to costuming in very many other fics before; it was one of those really nice details that you can tell the author put a lot of work into and that really made the fic very memorable for me. And oh god, I felt every moment of Harry's heartful yearning and desperation and urgency in reaching out across time to Tom, and how much she loved him already — an absolutely beautiful love story.

never a victimless crime by @duplicitywrites (E, 7.5k)

Someone doses Tom with a lust potion keyed to Harry — and an absolutely wild, chaotic, wet, filthy hot mess of a shower-scene PWP ensues, featuring Tom who's been drugged out of his mind and Harry who's trying to do the right thing but is similarly incapacitated by a mild concussion. This had so much sexy chaotic energy, and is definitely one of the best things I've read on AO3.

Serendipity by @lissiamoonstone (E, 6.5k)

SO MANY LAYERS OF DUBCON. SO MANY LAYERS. And combined with super possessive Alpha Tom and Harry being in heat and somnophilia as the icing on top!? This was such a delicious mind-fuck — I reread it a few times and kept finding new things to notice, and I know I'll come back to reread it many more times.

They, of Riddle Manor by riddlereading (M, 16k)

I think this is one of the most unique Voldemort-wins story arcs I've read in Tomarry. Just one thing goes differently when Tom goes to Riddle Manor for the first time, and he doesn't end up killing his muggle relatives, which then sets off a sequence of events that result in Lily not dying and Harry growing up (with a happy childhood) in Riddle Manor. It's absolutely adorable from start to finish, and I had a huge smile on my face when I finished.

Tom Riddle’s Guide to Repeatedly Failing to Get Laid in the Restricted Section by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts (M, 3k)

I jumped to open this fic when I saw some of the tags here — dubcon, amnesia, mind manipulation(!!) This was such a fun and snappy read, featuring one of my favorite things — Tom repeatedly fucking with Harry's head to get what he wants (in this case, getting laid). He is absolutely undeterred and plays dirty, and we would expect nothing less of our favorite babygirl dark lord in training 💕

*

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 20 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2235 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

Of course, I knew Dave's reaction to seeing the album wouldn't be great, but somehow, I always ended up trying to convince myself that he would handle it more calmly. I should have known that Dave Mustaine's anger and resentment would be anything but calm.

✦ summary: After coming back to Los Angeles, Nore has to deal with Dave's reaction when he gets to know about Metallica's new album.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angry sex, (light) spanking, jealousy, angst

✦ a/n: I'm back! First of all, I would just like to say I'm really sorry it took me this long to post a new part. My life's been crazy busy and I was a bit burned out from writing, so I just had to take a break for a bit. But I took a few weeks to rest and now I'm ready to keep writing the story :) I hope you guys like this new chapter! The dynamics in Dave and Nore's relationship are starting to get a little more complicated, and we'll see how this plays out soon. Feedback is welcome! ❤

I rolled back into Los Angeles the next morning. Having a motorcycle as a birthday gift from my parents sure had its perks, like getting around town without suffering the rickety old buses. The ride from San Francisco to LA was a trek, and it got me thinking about those not-so-distant days when Cliff would cruise from San Francisco to Long Beach just to hang out with me.

Man, I was already starting to miss him.

Los Angeles was its usual chaotic self, just like I'd left it the day before. But coming back after my San Francisco escapade was a whole different deal. I couldn't help but wonder if the concert and everything that went down afterward had stirred up a whole lot more in me than I was ready to admit.

Dave wasn’t in when I got to our apartment, so I dropped my bag and the presents on the couch and hit the shower to unwind after that exhausting trip. As I was getting dressed, I heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door, letting me know he had just arrived home .

It was kind of unusual for him not to swing by and say hi right away, but it didn't take me long to figure out why. After I got dressed, I headed into the living room and there he was, looking at the new addition to my vinyl collection with a frown.

"Dave...?" I said, nervously. I wasn't entirely sure how he'd react to the sight of the new Metallica record. I probably should've thought about it before leaving it lying on the couch, but I was so beat from the trip that it didn't even cross my mind that he might not be thrilled with my gift.

He looked up at me, and I could tell he was torn between anguish and something tougher that made me swallow hard.

"I had no clue they dropped the album," he commented, expressionless. Somehow, his effort to act like it wasn't a big deal just seemed to make it worse, the tension in the room growing like a bubble about to burst.

"It was a gift," I mumbled softly. He snorted, arching an eyebrow, and I felt my face turn beet red. My voice wavered, "I didn't know they had released it either; they told me just recently. It's just that..."

"Did you know they used my music in this crap?" he growled. I blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"Jump in the Fire? Metal Militia? Phantom Lord?" he snapped, shaking the vinyl's booklet in my direction, seeming on the verge of blowing a gasket. "I helped write all this shit. And they didn’t even credit me! I told them not to use my stuff. I fucking told them!" 

I opened my mouth in surprise, my heart clenching with anguish and anger. That was just wrong. Dave had confided in me how he'd asked the guys not to use any of his songs or solos. I didn't know what was worse, them ignoring his wishes or not even bothering to inform us.

"Dave, I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this," I murmured, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. He looked at me, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

"It's alright," he muttered, though his voice still carried a trace of annoyance. He wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling into the curve of my neck and giving me a tight hug. "It's okay. It's not your fault if they used you to get to me."

I furrowed my brow, my body tensing at his words. I pulled away slightly, locking eyes with him.

"Dave... I don't think that's what happened."

He arched an eyebrow at my words, and I pulled back slightly when I detected a flash of hurt in his eyes, though it quickly turned into a cold, almost icy expression. It was evident that he was hurt, but it wasn't just that; having his songs used without his permission had pushed him over the edge. He was seething with anger.

"You're being too naive," he said in a low, chilling voice I hadn't heard from him before. I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race uncomfortably in my chest.

"Dave, it's Cliff. He wouldn't do that..."

"They used my fucking songs!" he snarled, his voice growing louder. I took a step back, and he exhaled deeply, now visibly angry. "You're fooling yourself. Do you think they're nice guys? They didn't care about me, so why would they care about you now?"

"It's not like that..."

"Of course, it's like that," he laughed, a bitter and painful laugh that made me flinch. "You don't realize, do you? They don't think I'm good enough, but you are! I bet Cliff would be thrilled if we broke up now. Have you ever thought about that?"

“But I don’t want to break up with you,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. This was going much, much worse than I had expected. Of course, I knew Dave's reaction to seeing the album wouldn't be great, but somehow, I always ended up trying to convince myself that he would handle it more calmly.

I should have known that Dave Mustaine's anger and resentment would be anything but calm.

"This isn't about what you want, it's about what you do! Why did you have to bring this here?" he shouted. His voice held more distress than anger, and it pained me. Beyond the pain of our argument, I couldn't bear to see him like this and know it was my fault. I could have avoided all of this if I hadn't been blinded by my own happiness in seeing my friends again, in seeing a glimpse of the happiness we used to have together. "Why do you have to keep hanging out with them? Don't I matter to you? Don't you care about me?"

"You're getting it all wrong," my voice quivered as I fought back my tears. "You can't say these things, Dave, you're hurting me!"

"Well, what about me? Can't you see you're hurting me too?"

"I thought I told you not to make me choose."

"I'm not making you choose! "

"Yes, you are! I asked you to trust me..."

"I do trust you, damn it! I love you!"

"Then act like you love me!" I shouted. I gasped in shock as he swiftly closed the distance between us, pulling me close to his body furiously, and kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth with a fervor I'd never felt before. I moaned into his kiss, my legs going weak as I clung to his arms. His embrace tightened around my waist, his other hand gripping the base of my neck just enough to leave me breathless. 

"If you want me to prove that I love you, then I'm gonna prove it now," he growled, anger smoldering in his eyes like poison. I pulled him into another kiss, my body burning like wildfire as he undressed me and we stumbled towards the bedroom.

"Is this what you wanted all along?" I mumbled, my lingering frustration from our argument making me bolder as I hastily removed his shirt, his lips seeking mine in a desperate hunger. 

"Don't test me, Burton," he snarled. I let out a surprised gasp as he spun me around, firmly placing me on my knees at the edge of the bed. One of his arms held my waist, pressing my back against his chest, while the other hand gripped the nape of my neck, his lips and tongue aggressively exploring my soft skin.

“D… Dave…” I closed my eyes, a muffled moan escaping my lips as his hand on my waist moved down to the wetness between my legs, his fingers penetrating me without warning and curling inside me. He rumbled against my skin, holding me closer to him, his lips gliding up my neck until they reached my ear.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, a hint of concern evident in his voice despite his tension. I shook my head “no”, pressing myself against him, and he chuckled softly before pulling my waist tightly against his own, pushing my shoulder until I was on all fours on the bed. I moaned softly as he caressed my ass slowly before giving me a slap that made my skin crawl all over, pain and pleasure mixed together as tears gathered in my eyes. He grunted quietly, seeming pleased with my reaction. “Do you like that? Answer me. ”

“Y… Yeah… Ah! ” I flinched when he slapped me again, and he laughed. I felt my heart speed up when I heard him take off his pants and felt him climb onto the bed, his hands slowly caressing my waist.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his fingers penetrating me again and moving inside me. I moaned softly, my skin still tingling with the pain of his spanking, contrasting with the increasing pleasure that the movement of his fingers made me feel.

I moaned as he pressed his cock against me, my clenched fists gripping the bed sheet tightly as he entered me slowly. Dave let out a low moan, holding my waist tightly as he began to move. I closed my eyes, reduced to a mess of muffled moans as I felt him move, pushing deeper and deeper, making my whole body shake with pleasure. Right then, I knew he was taking out all his frustration and anger on me — and I loved every second of it.

"You're mine," he rumbled, his voice low. He drew me in closer, guiding me up again as he pressed my back against his chest, still holding my waist with one hand as he thrust faster and faster inside me, his lips eagerly seeking mine. I moaned into his kiss when his tongue invaded my mouth, taking one of my hands to my clit, massaging it in circles while burying my other hand in his hair. He brought his other hand up to my face, pulling away slightly and tracing the outline of my lip with his thumb as he looked into my eyes, his lips parted and his eyes out of focus as he lost himself in pleasure. “You’re mine,” he murmured, feverishly, his hips moving faster and faster, hitting all the sweetest spots inside me. I shuddered, moaning loudly as I felt my body contract, our peaks approaching together. “You’re mine, Nore. Mine.”

“Ah… D-Dave!” I closed my eyes, letting him press me against his body as my orgasm swept through me in a shock wave that made me contract all over. He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he came with me, his movements becoming sloppy as his seed filled me.

I sighed, shakily, as he pulled out of me. I laid face down on the bed, letting out a groan into the pillow. He gently pushed my hair aside, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder before settling down beside me.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired in a hushed tone while his fingers gently traced my cheek. I opened my eyes and gazed into his concerned expression, mustering a faint smile.

"Everything's fine," I mumbled, reaching my hand up to his face. He furrowed his brows, suddenly recoiling as he seized my wrist.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice tensing, his eyes locking onto my knuckles. I blinked in surprise. In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten momentarily that my hand was still a little swollen, the skin turning a soft shade of purple as the bruises from the previous day's punch began to appear.

"It wasn't a big deal, Dave," I said, and he gave me an incredulous look. I blinked, feeling my face flush. "Just some jerk who tried to hassle me after the gig yesterday. So, I gave him a punch."

"You did what?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked. I chuckled softly, but Dave frowned, concerned, as if he didn't quite buy my reaction. "Nore, this is serious! Did he do something to you?"

"Dave, it's alright... Cliff helped me." I stretched the truth a bit. I didn't want to bring up James' help, not after Dave and I had our spat about the album. Especially not after recalling last night in the kitchen and the way James had held my hand, his eyes locking onto mine for just a fleeting moment before Leanne and Cliff interrupted us.

“You go out solo once, and this is what happens?” Dave grumbled, and I chuckled as I cradled his face in my hands. He sighed before drawing me nearer, planting a slow kiss on my lips. I sighed happily, feeling myself melt into the warmth of his kiss as I nestled in his embrace. He pulled back, gently gripping my chin. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you.”

"It's okay, Dave," I murmured, softly. "But you've got to trust me. I'm with you because I love you." 

"I know. I'm sorry," he replied, his voice gentle, burying his face in my chest and pulling me into a tight hug. "You're mine," he whispered, his arms embracing me as if he needed to reassure himself that what he said was true. "Everything's alright. You're mine."

[loustat-0]

Hello, hello it's me 👋🏽

Okay so, there's something you mentioned about Claudia on this post here:

(Sorry, for some reason it's actually not letting me add the post link. So maybe if you want you can add it in your "answer" post so others can check that out as well)

I can quote you though: "I also believe Claudia has the mind gift which effected the process" In reference to ep 5 -- we all know what scene.

I wanted to ask you, can you expand on what you meant in saying you think she has the "mind gift" AND how did it effect the process, or why do you think it did?

-- One of the reasons why I had such a strong reaction to that statement, is because while it's possible that I may be living under a rock about it. I have yet to see anyone else even mention it. And there's a very specific scene in the show that always stumps me, and I always considered something along those lines may be possible. But I just haven't seen literally anyone else talk about it. So I've just kept it to myself. So I'd love to know what your meta, or theory or analysis is on this --

Okay so first of all Claudia can block Louis out of her head and I think a young vampire fledgling who is 19 years old can't do that . Louis himself wasn't able to do that even though he was older than Claudia .

When Claudia goes out on a date with Charlie , charlie stated that he can't do it with Claudia because she looked so young but Claudia convinced him otherwise & it looked intense she wasn't being a cute girl on her first date she wanted charlie & she got him to do it with her . Either charlie was so attracted to her that didn't mind the age 😬 or Claudia used some mind gift on him . I think she didn't know if it's a power or not yet . At that point she just did it anyway.

But In Ep 5 when she came back to the house to take Louis I think she knew she had the power she didn't know what it was but she knew she could use it on Louis or even Lestat . I think if she wants to use it intentionally to get something she would do it very well . She came in & created a situation in which the argument started first between herself & Lestat & then she got Louis involved . She damn well knew Louis is Lestat's trigger point she damn well knew Louis wouldn't leave Lestat without seeing him actually hurt him or Claudia she damn well knew Lestat wouldn't let go of Louis easily . Go back & look at how Claudia is talking to Louis in his head in comparison to how she said some stuff louder , her eyes get bigger & more determined & angry while she's talking to Louis in his head . And when Lestat said read her Louis she changed the subject completely on Lestat's insecurities instead of her own . Which eventually blocked Louis to not be able to read her at that moment . And then she gave the last shot : let's be vampires with vampires worthy of your love . As if I'm the only one who is worthy of your love not Lestat . And Lestat couldn't do anything even when he yelled as if he was trying to take his mind out of control of Claudia's mind but he couldn't .

When Claudia went to the pharmacy she wanted a drug which was very dangerous & forbidden especially if you're a 14 year old kid . She wrote on a piece of paper & the pharmacist just gave it to her 😯

Both in the books & on the show She convinced Louis to do something he didn't like to do . She made him believe he wanted to kill Lestat while Louis didn't want that & if he did , he wanted to do it for Claudia . Louis hurts Lestat just to protect Claudia . After Louis killed Lestat on the show he became hateful of Claudia for awhile and Daniel called it out & we saw how Louis pushed Claudia to the wall & also in one of Jacob's recent interviews about S2 he mentioned that they're having problems . In the book when Louie took Lestat to the swamp he started to actually understand who he had killed it's the same on the show Louis realized what actually happened after Lestat was dead . As if he was under some kinda influence to that . In the book when Claudia was slitting Lestat's throat Louis wanted to jump in but Claudia yelled at him to stay away & do nothing so again some kinda mind gift I sense here & there .

Most importantly , in the recent trailer Armand who is the master of mind gift himself told Louis that she's good at shielding her thoughts & that's coming from Armand so he might have sensed something too . And I personally think even in the book Armand noticed that & besides wanting Louis to himself he killed her off Bc she would have been a threat to herself & Louis & himself & others .

[la-morte-di-belle]

Wow, how have I not posted this oneshot on here yet?

Title: Kiss Me

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Main Characters: Reader/YN; Gojo Satoru

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Warnings: RomCom

Notes: A one-shot about Y/N's feelings for Gojo and her need for clarity. Primarily Y/N focused and features a female Jujutsu reader but doesn't have any specifying characteristics other than "she." Reader's ability is created by me, but feel free to ask me more about it.

Possibly will turn into a story, but for now, it is a stand-alone story.

Summary:  "She hated that her heart was so enraptured at the thought of this man. It disgusted her knowing that one smile would cause her mind to shut down." Gojo was a tease. One minute you could be flirting with him, and the next, he'd have you at arms link. Y/N had been paired with Gojo for months now, and she still hadn't figured him out, yet. There was only thing she knew for sure: She wanted him to kiss her.

"Kiss me."

     "Ooo, I like it when you make commands."

     "That's not what— never mind. Just...just kiss me, okay?"

     "And, if I say no?"

     "What? I thought...are you...wait! Wait! God, this is already embarrassing enough. Just, stop teasing me already, Satoru!"

     "Man, you're no fun tonight."

     "Fun?" Y/N huffed, visibly flushing further in her discomfort, "Fun? Really, that's what you're taking away from all this? I literally just asked you to kiss me and all you can say is I'm not any fun? You know what, forget I asked."

     She had made to turn away and leave Gojo to his own devices— there wasn't any point in continuing to go back and forth with him if all he was going to do was tease her. Besides, why stay when this whole interaction, their relationship, was apparently nothing more than some form of entertainment for him. Gojo made her out to be some sort of toy. Y/N was here to perform for her "master" whenever he wished for her to and she was sick of it.

     "Aw, come on! Don't be like that." Gojo laughed, "I can't help it. I have this love for seeing you all riled up. Once I catch a glimpse of those flushed cheeks, I can't stop myself from chasing that high!"

     Y/N rolled her eyes at that. Gojo was the best Jujutsu Sorcerer and smooth talker in all of Japan. He had a way of making people feel like the most important thing in the world, while somehow still being able to mock them in one way or another. He didn't love seeing her "all riled up," Gojo loved seeing everyone riled up. This wasn't something special they shared. It wasn't even something he exclusively did to her. Y/N had been warned, scolded and harassed for her involvement with him— told numerous times to try and avoid him at every cost. Yet, as much as she tried to apply the advice given, Y/N didn't really get a choice on who she was sent on missions with. That was the fault of all those old, stuffy sorcerers and their compatibility in Jujutsu.

     Yet, Gojo was a god.

     He was the only man in this generation who could control the space between and manipulate cursed energy any way he saw fit. An untouchable being with the knowledge of just how untouchable he was. Gojo could act like a jester all he wanted but in the end, even a god seeking some fun was still a god when everything was said and done.

     Y/N was nothing compared to a god.

     Sure, the Elders here in Japan might have deemed her a Special Grade, but back in the States, she barely passed as a Semi-First Grade. There was nothing special about her. The technique gifted to her hadn't done more than allow others to bring up her shitty family as an afterthought in most conversations. Honestly, what was so great about being able to temporarily "dampen" someone's cursed energy usage or completely exorcise a cursed spirit without the use of other Jujutsu techniques? It wasn't worth the "Special Grade" title, not when she was pretty sure the latter part of her Jutsushiki was a common ability among the Sorcerer world.

     Nevertheless though, Y/N found herself stuck with Gojo as a partner and mentor who was suppose to be helping her nurture her abilities. Everyone could talk all the shit they wanted about Satoru Gojo, but none of them had to deal with him like she did. And none of them would have been able to stop her from falling for him like she had.

     God, she hated it.

     She hated that her heart was so enraptured at the thought of this man. It disgusted her knowing that one smile would cause her mind to shut down. Y/N wanted to rip her eyes out so they'd stop seeking him, and maybe sow her mouth shut in the process because it wasn't like talking was doing much for her anyways. How hard was it to not be affected by every little thing he did? How much more of a fool was Y/N to become before she could finally be herself again?

     "I hate you."

     "Hey, hey! I thought we were having a moment here?"

     "So did I but ya' know, no. The only thing that's happening here, is me leaving your ass to deal with that First Grade by yourself. Not that you needed me anyways. Have fun, asshole!"

     "Now, now, there's no need to be upset. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything. However, how does one respond to being told to kiss someone?"

     "Huh? Oh, uh, well...I...that's no—"

     "Not what you meant? But you did tell me to kiss you, right? And here I thought consent was very important!"

     "What? No! Wait! Yes! Hold on! Yeah, I mean yes! Consent is very important but that's...that's not what I was trying to get at and you know it!"

     "Do I?"

     "You know what? No. Just stop. I wasn't trying to force you to kiss me, okay? I just really, really wanted to stop playing these games with you. God! Like one moment you're flirting with me and the next you're treating like I'm the butt of all your jokes. I don't even know what you want from me half the time! Are we flirting? Is this a thing? Is what I think happening actually happening? Like is there really a thing going on between us or am I just trippin' out? Because let me tell you, I rather it be the latter so I can go ahead and bury these feelings I somehow developed for you and call it a day?"

     "Whoa. That's kind of a lot to take in."

     It was. It really was a lot to take in and Y/N desperately needed someone to tell her why she thought unloading all this information while the two of them were supposed to be hunting down a First Grade cursed spirit was the perfect time to do so. This wasn't how she had planned to approach the topic. It definitely wasn't what she had wanted to tell Gojo. Or, well, yes? She did tell him to kiss her but Y/N thought the two of them were having another "moment."

     What, with the moon full and blooming with light. Or with the gentle breeze that seemed to be pushing the two of them closer. It didn't help that Gojo made her feel like she was the center of all his attention, even though she subconsciously knew she couldn't be— would never be. Except, Y/N couldn't stop herself from allowing Gojo to make her feel that way or allowing Gojo to be the center of hers. For god's sake, the man even saved her from falling flat on her face like the cliché romcom she had thought they'd found themselves in.

     But maybe it was all in her head? Maybe she had really imagined things? It wouldn't be the first time, and while she might have been younger when those instances happened, it didn't mean she couldn't make the same mistakes now as an adult. Sure, it would have been a lot nicer and less embarrassing if she could have avoided this mess but, you know, growth. Or some shit like that.

     It was probably best to stray away from all these thoughts now, though. Y/N was starting to look like a lunatic the more she continued to let her mind reflect on the situation she found herself in. As well, being crouched on the sidewalk with her head in her hands might have not helped either. She just needed to muster up the energy to pick her dignity off the floor and maybe that would hopefully give Y/N a chance to pull through this all. As of right now though? Yeah, she was going to lose it. Unless the ground beneath her could swallow her up faster.

     "Hey," Gojo interrupted softly. "I think there might be some miscommunication here."

     "You think?" Y/N retorted quietly.

     "Hey," Gojo said once more. "Don't hide yourself from me. If I'm to be honest, the thing I love to see the most— are your eyes."

     "What?"

     Soft laughter poured out of him then. And when she finally looked up at Gojo, crouched right there before her with his blindfold raised, Y/N couldn't help but believe the sincerity in his words. While there might have been a very high chance this was just another attempt at Gojo trying to be "human", there was that small little tug from her pinky finger urging her to believe.

     "They're always so expressive."

     "Huh?"

     "Your eyes."

     "Oh."

     They crouched there for a moment longer in silence. A part of her could feel the heat warmly sitting on her cheeks and while her heart was beating up a symphony, everything was so quiet around them. For a moment Y/N thought Gojo might have put up a Curtain to hide them away from the rest of the world, but there wasn't really a moment he could have. There was that nagging fear again that she might have been reading too much into this, yet, there wasn't any way she was, right? He had to feel it too. There was no way Gojo could ignore the string pulling at his thumb. This, this had to be real. It just had to be.

     "As much as I love them though," Gojo whispered, "Do me a favor and close them real quick, yeah?"

     Another moment passed in silence before Y/N sighed and complied. She kept them closed even though cold hands sought out her burning cheeks. She kept them closed, even when a cool puff of air tickled her face. And as much as she wanted to ingrain the sight of him with her eyes, Y/N still kept them closed when Gojo finally kissed her.

[madaboutmunson]

Policy Of Truth

This is a Steddie One-shot fic I wrote in January, its been on Ao3 since then but I've not posted it here before, so here it is :)

Warnings: Violence, blood, weapons, death, homophobia

Summary:

After saving the world, everyone heads home, but not everyone has a place to go back to. Realising that they potentially could have lost their son Mr & Mrs Harrington, make an effort with Steve and open their those in need. But its not just friendships blossoming at The Harrington's, and soon Eddie and Steve have a secret to keep.

Words : 11,265

AO3 Link

That Autumn was everything. 

That's the only line Steve has written so far. He stares at it and leans back in his chair, running his hands through his hair, sighs and closes his eyes to sink back into his memories.

After Hawkins and the surrounding area were essentially obliterated, despite them defeating the big bad and living to tell the tale, they all had to move.

Mr & Mrs Harrington obviously had wasted no time finding a new property. Steve wasn't sure if it was because it was the first time since all this otherworldy stuff had started, and his parents actually knew he could have died, that it made them actually pay attention to him.

It wasn't just attention, though. There was compassion, quality time, conversations, kindness, and maybe even love? Well, what they were capable of anyway. He knew he shouldn't have been so swept away by it, he should have given them a taste of their own medicine, but hadn't he always wanted that?

This foundation-shaking event hadn't just birthed care and understanding for Steve, though. It extended to the people who he cared about and who cared about him when his parents hadn't been around. Looking back over it, a lot of that could have guilt or shame, as with everything they plastered over the cracks with money and gift ribbons.

His friends had all relocated nearby, too. They had learned the hard way they were stronger together. Apart, bad things happened, like Dustin getting hurt, Max in a coma or Eddie dying. Well…for a few minutes.

Eddie loved dropping that into a conversation "You know, I died once?", "The world just couldn't bear to be without Eddie Munson for longer than two minutes", or "I've looked death in the eyes. I'm not afraid of a little family dinner!"

Eddie…Steve missed him so much.

The house the Harrington's purchased had quite a bit of land, and when Steve told his parents that Eddie and Wayne's home had been completely destroyed, and Max's Mom had nowhere to stay either, they made them room. Two brand-new trailers were on their land until they found their feet.

Max's Mom found a place closer to the hospital after about two weeks, Wayne followed suit a few weeks later to be closer to his new job, but Eddie stayed. 

To the surprise of most, he got on really well with Steve's parents. Ever polite, always charming, engaged then in conversation, and even knew when to take an L to keep the peace. Eddie was a hands-on person, mainly because he had to be. Mr & Mrs Harrington were not. They could always get some help in. 

Eddie would offer to help out and save them some money, he knew they didn't need that, but it was his only way of repaying their kindness.

So he would fix things around the new house, offer some advice and even carry out repairs on the household vehicles, and sometimes he'd help out in the kitchen.

Mr Harrington appreciated these gestures, and Eddie made it look so easy that even Steve would join in sometimes. He explained everything to Steve without a note of superiority. 

The person Eddie helped most was Steve's Mom. She was trying her hardest to be the woman in the pages of good housekeeping immediately, but as Eddie explained, "That's not such an easy leap when you've moulded yourself into a very successful bull-busting woman of business.". 

Countless times over the summer, Steve had caught his Mom in tears over something in the kitchen, and seconds later, in he'd run, hair tied back, apron on, finding a way to fix it, or trying to work out what could have gone wrong. 

Whatever it was, he would have her laughing and wiping her tears away in minutes by carving off the burnt bits of meat, chucking them out of the window, over his shoulder and draping the roast in some other deli meat, or poking at a very bizarre souffle that had the same texture as The Blob and pretending to get his hand eaten by it.

All of this was no surprise to Steve, though. Maybe due to his past, Eddie adapted quickly, despite loathing change, and he had a heart of gold. He couldn't sit idly by when people were suffering, not if he could do something about it. 

Eddie knew the Harrington's did not have a history of being especially good people, but they looked like they were trying at least, and that was good enough for him to give them a chance. 

Chances made room for change, but the Harrington family dynamics weren't the only things changing at home.

In those few weeks, things were changing between Steve and Eddie too. All those flirtatious quips, grazing touches, lingering looks and quick smiles that happened around their friends sometimes started to happen when no one was around.

And when Wayne moved out, Eddie had a whole trailer to himself. Those flirtatious quips turned into compliments, those grazing touches into gentle ones, the lingering looks into soft stares, and those quick smiles into coy ones.

Then Summer came to a close, and Steve's parents had to spend time away for work again, and previously that would leave Steve in a cold, empty, soulless house, and he'd have to call around for people to spend time with him to stop the loneliness setting in.

Not this time, though.

"Now you boys behave, ok? If you need anything, anything at all, or something happens, just call one of us, and we'll be sure to sort it out in a jiffy," Mrs Harrington calls over with her hands on her hips, "Are you even listening to me, Steven?"

Eddie and Steve lean on either side of the doorway as Mrs Harrington puts her hand luggage into the trunk as Mr Harrington loads the suitcases.

Steve was only half listening. He was too busy thinking about what would happen when their car drove away, and this door was shut, and it would be just the two of them. Just him and Eddie, all the way until Christmas.

"He's off daydreaming again, Mrs H" Eddie beams a megawatt smile at her and gives Steve a hard locker room backhand in the gut with a laugh, which in turn makes Mr Harrington laugh and shake his head.

"Sorry, Mom. Yeah, if anything, I'll call, promise. If I can get to the phone before golden boy over here, that is." he gives Eddie a hard thump on the arm.

Eddie gives a theatrical "Ow" and rubs his arm, earning Steve an approving nod from his Father, who had utterly missed Eddie's quick sultry side glance and lick of his lips.

Mr Harrington shuts the car door for Mrs Harrington and walks back over to Eddie and Steve at the door for a final set of hushed instructions. 

He puts a hand on each of their shoulders, "Now boys, I was your age once. I know as soon as we get down the street, you'll be inviting round a bunch of fine nubile tail, calling the guy who'll hook you up with drugs or a keg, and I understand. I really do. You've only got one life. Live it right before you get tied down, yeah?" 

Mr Harrington laughs, shakes his head, and leans in to whisper, "All I'm asking is you play smart, play safe in the end zone, ok?" He laughs with a knowing smirk on his face. "Don't go raising hell all over town, alright, or getting involved with criminals and such ok? I've stocked the garage for you and left you the numbers of my guys if you need refills, alright?" He gives them a wink, "And also, make sure it's tidy for when your mother gets home, and all evidence is removed, ok? I'll give you a warning call."

"When you say stocked…." Eddie's eyes are wide, and he has a massive grin.

"Oh, I mean, there are at least a few parties worth of beer, wine, liquor, champagne, cigarettes and a few cigars down there and, of course, our friend Mary Jane" he squeezes their shoulders, looking between them both.

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at Steve, who smirks back at him and adds, turning to his Father, "Thanks for trusting us, Dad. We won't let you down." 

Mr Harrington gives them both a hard pat on their faces, "That's my boys. Go easy on the ladies, huh?" He says with a wink and walks back to the car.

They wave goodbye, and Steve sees, for the first time that he can remember, his Mom is crying as they drive away.

Once that door closed, nothing immediately happened, much to Steve's disappointment. Nevertheless, he was sure there was something there. 

Eddie suggests they do indeed throw a party, but tonight, they invite everyone, and they do. It's a blast seeing everyone and having fun together, catching up on their news, dancing, laughing and acting like crazy teenagers who did not have a care in the world.

Then the last guest leaves, and Eddie rushes around the place tidying up.

"Dude, it's late! Seriously leave it for tomorrow." Steve waves a hand at Eddie, who is not listening to him at all. Annoyingly He's barely looking at him. He's barely looked at him all night. Steve sighs and puts on the TV, and leaves him to it. 

About an hour later, the place is immaculate again, like nothing had even happened. A waft of cleaning products and the TV blinks off. Before Steve can even address what is happening, Eddie is straddling his lap, kissing him, gripping onto his polo shirt, white knuckle tight, pulling Steve to him.

Eddie pushes Steve back into his seat, still gripping his clothes and just looks at him and waits.

Steve swipes Eddie's hands from his shirt roughly, and Eddie looks at the ground, "Fuck!" He says with a sigh and starts to stand up.

Steve grabs Eddie's vest and wrestles him down, pinning him to the sofa with a much more frantic kiss of his own.

When Steve finally moves away, both panting, analysing one another's faces. Eddie grins and laughs, breaking the tension. Soon the same happens to Steve too.

"Ok, so that worked better than I expected. I've been wanting to do that for weeks" Eddie beams up at him and sits up, forcing Steve to kneel up on the sofa next to him.

Steve looks at him curiously and folds his arms, "But we could have been doing this the whole night. Did you want the party to get me drunk, Eddie?" He playfully pokes him.

"Oh god no," Eddie says, running his hands up Steve's arms and neck, landing softly on either side of his face. Eddie's thumbs brush his cheeks, "I only had one drink all night, a Whiskey, I just downed for courage" His eyes go to Steve's mouth, and his thumb brushes over his lips, "I just wanted to get everything out of the way."

"Out of the way?" Steve asks. No longer is he swimming in Eddie's dark chocolate irises. Instead, he's drowning in them.

Eddie gives him a small kiss, "I just wanted", another, "to have you", another, "all", another "to myself", another, but this one lingers.

"But you could have had that anyway," Steve says, confused, "All night."

Eddie tilts his head, smiles and lets out a series of tuts before saying in sweet, high-pitched condescension, "Tonight? No Steve. Not just tonight." 

He pushes one of his hands into Steve's hair with a small shuddering breath, his voice returning to its standard low register. "I knew those little assholes would be begging every day for a party at a parent-free house. Well, now they've had it. I painfully let them have those first few hours, and by cleaning up, there is nothing that requires your attention other than" he takes Steve's hand and runs it up his body, "Me".

And those compliments turned into whispered confessions, gentle touches into hardly breaking contact, soft stares into unashamed lingering looks, and coy smiles into huge adoring ones.

It was like no other relationship either of them had ever had, so many facets. It was natural, loving, intense, passionate, without boundaries, without mind games or playing up to being something they weren't, and it was all happening in a place that was all their own. It was all so easy.

Steve had revealed one time he felt like someone had written Eddie specifically for him, and Eddie had laughed so hard because he had also been secretly thinking that the whole time too.

Love followed swiftly with the force of a hurricane, sweeping them both entirely off their feet and into the stratosphere. Soon they informed their friends. It was a no-brainer. They couldn't hide this. It was all-consuming, verging on complete obsession or abandon of themselves, as I became us.

They talked about it, telling Steve's parents. They'd told Wayne, and though both incredibly nervous, armed with backup runaway plans, when they told him, he took it in his stride, and it was a breeze. He couldn't be happier for them. Maybe Steve's parents could be the same?

"I don't know, babe. But, like, I think Wayne might have suspected I was not entirely straight or something, you know, growing up, it didn't seem to phase him at all," Eddie says, sitting up in their shared bed, the dawn light highlighting the scars littering his torso.

He turns and holds Steve's face gently, "I just don't think your parents would suspect that of you. I mean, I was never really normal" he laughs and then drops back to gentle concern, "It might be a big shock for them, you know? We've been so lucky with everyone so far. Maybe we should just wait a little while longer, huh?"

Steve sits up with excitement, "But that's the thing honey, we have been so lucky, we're on a roll, and they've changed so much, you know, with me. They adore you. I adore you. What could possibly be wrong with that?" Steve's eyes search Eddie's for a change of heart, but all he is met with is worry.

"Look, they do adore me, a version of me. The one that keeps their son safe. The one that helps out around the house, and by osmosis, you get into it too. A thoughtful guy. The guy that's always got a joke, some charm, and a big smile for them." He takes hold of Steve's hands, "I hate to be crass about this, babe, but I need you to hear me. The guy that deals drugs. Who corrupted and is doing their son. He isn't part of that guy yet. That's why they like me, Steve. That guy isn't stealing their legacy, grandkids, or reputation" Eddie sighs and looks into Steve's eyes.

Steve shakes his head and laughs, "You don't deal anymore, you did not corrupt me, and you love me, Eddie. You aren't stealing anything from them. I know that. They'll know that too."

Eddie swallows hard, "Absolutely true…but that's how we see it, you know? Parents aren't like that for the most part. You must have had it happen to you? The minute someone's folks worked out, you were screwing their daughter, that kind of thing? They'll find anything they can to pick at the offending party, true or not, or dredge up their past and.." Eddie frowns and looks down, "and I don't wanna lose you because of it."

"Hey," Steve says softly, raising Eddie's chin with his hand, "You are never gonna lose me, ok? Never." When their eyes meet, Steve gives him a small sweet smile, "I can wait."

Eddie looks relieved, "I just think a good time might be when we move? We get our own place, then they don't have anything over us, and if they get mad or hate me, or worse, upset you. We can just go back home to our safe place, yeah? Maybe somewhere more accepting, someplace bigger, like San Fran or New York?" He nods at Steve with big eyes full of dreams.

"That sounds perfect," Steve says, embracing his soulmate in his arms.

The next few days were evidence clean-up. Maybe different from the one his Father had guessed at. It was a much more innocent one, of removing anything of Eddie's out of Steve's room and back into his trailer. They even spent the last two nights there to ensure it looked lived in. Then, as a welcome home, they put up the Christmas decorations except for the star at the top of the tree.

Steve's parents rushed to embrace him when he opened the door on their arrival, and then they did the same for Eddie. Mr Harrington tours the house and gives them a nod of appreciation, "You didn't even touch the sides of the stock in the garage. I'm honestly shocked but also pleased I can save a bit of money after your Mother's Christmas shopping spree." 

Eddie and Steve looked at one another and then back to Mr Harrington with big smiles.

Eddie takes a deep breath, straightens up, adjusts the waistband of his jeans, and leans in with a whisper, "Uh, you should know, we did have one absolute rager, and then it was mostly for watching the game, so nothing crazy. You're all out of green, though. We didn't touch the, um…the more expensive stuff that we also found a stash of in there."

Mr Harrington gives him an impressed nod, "Good to know, good to know. I'd appreciate it if you boys kept that our little secret?"

"Of course!" Steve says, putting his arm around Eddie's shoulders firmly, "Our lips are sealed."

Steve feels Eddie tense up under his arm, quickly slaps him on the back, and puts his hands in his pockets.

"So, are you staying with us for Christmas Eve, Eddie?" Mr Harrington inquires.

Eddie shakes his head, "Afraid not, gonna spend some time with the old man. He's probably got some hunt or shoot lined up around or on Christmas Eve for the roast. Maybe we'll get something more substantial than a pigeon this year." Eddie laughs.

"Hear that, Steve? Hunting their own Christmas dinner, like real men." Mr Harrington adds with an impressed, patriotic tone.

Eddie turns to Steve, "Just the meat. No need to hunt the potatoes and carrots. They just walk on into the oven" Eddie imitates the shape of a carrot with his body and does a silly little walk, and Steve bursts out laughing. It's almost a giggle.

His Dad eyes him suspiciously for a second, "Sorry, Mr H, we had a few sherries before you got here. Getting in the festive spirit when putting up the decs earlier," Eddie interrupts with a lie.

Mr Harrington rolls his eyes and nods, "I see."

Eddie spends five days away, and if it wasn't for all the Christmas celebration distractions, Steve would have been totally lost. But when he stopped, It felt like part of him was missing. He didn't know where to look because Eddie wasn't here to gaze at. He didn't know what to do with his idle hands because Eddie wasn't here to hold.

The night was the worst. Alone in their bed, all he had were his thoughts. He'd line up pillows to wrap himself around to provide a little comfort. Then laugh at himself for being so over-the-top, but fall asleep cradling them anyway.

One time his Dad had caught him sneaking back in from the trailer. He lied and said he'd gone out for a smoke, and he had only been smoking Eddie's cigarettes just to be consumed by a note of his aroma. He then sneaked back out, stole one of Eddie's worn t-shirts from the laundry, and wore it under his clothes. It was a little too tight on him, but he liked it that way. Impossibly close.

He forgot he wore it to bed under his pyjamas, and his Mom pointed it out, "Steve, honey, you should throw that t-shirt away. It doesn't fit you anymore. You know, not now you're a little…er…bigger" She meant fatter, and Steve knew it. Old habits die hard. He shrugged it off and sat down to his scrambled eggs. 

His Dad looked him over before moving his eyes back to his paper.

As he ate a mouthful, he smiled and looked up at his Mom, "These are really good. You put something extra in them?" Of course, he already knew the answer. This is Eddie's recipe, that hint of spice and texture is unmistakable.

"Oh, you know, just a little bit of this and that, " she beamed as she sat down at the table, her own tiny portion on her plate. Then she looked at Steve's plate for a second and into his eyes before getting up to the stove. She returned with the pan, put more on his plate and gave him that apologetic look.

Steve just sits there with his mouth partially open in surprise, eventually making a half smile and simply saying, "Thanks, Mom."

Their Christmas Eve and Day are things previously Steve has only dreamed of. 

It's full of laughter and love. Steve helps his Mom onto his shoulders to put the Star on the tree whilst his Dad takes a few pictures. They even play a few parlour games.

When the present exchange happens, obviously, as usual, Steve's main gift is another hefty deposit in his account that he is yet to be allowed access to, but to his surprise, there are more gifts. Things given to him that weren't so serious. Clothing in his favourite colours and styles, a Nintendo gaming system, a pair of tickets to a basketball game in the city, and a new hoop for outside.

He opens his present from Eddie. A nubuck tool belt and a mini leatherman engraved with his name in the pocket.

Eddie and Steve had pooled their resources for gifts for his parents. Eddie had the ideas, and Steve had the money to buy them. For his Dad, they got him a set of nice whiskey tumblers and a box of cigars. For his Mom, a recipe card box containing some already filled out recipe cards, a polaroid stuck inside the lid showing the Harrington's in the kitchen, which Eddie must have taken sneakily because none of them are looking at the camera, but they were all smiling or laughing. 

A few hours later, the Harrington's Christmas party is in full swing, and Steve's house is full of family from all over.

"Steve, sweetie!" His Mom calls out, "Phone for you!" 

Steve excuses himself from the fireside cousin chat and signals to his Mom he'll take it in the study. She gives him a smile and a thumbs up, mouthing, "It's Eddie", and Steve had to rebel against his body to casually nod and walk calmly to the study, shutting the door behind him.

"Got it, Mom! Hey, ba-Eddie!" Steve says excitedly, remembering there are still people milling about. He picks up the whole phone and moves to the far corner.

"Hey, babe!" Eddie says confidently and loudly, primarily because of the level of wind noise around him, "Did you like your presents? I love mine" Steve can hear his spectacular grin in his tone, and it soon is mirrored on Steve's own face.

"My folks loved theirs, yeah…and I loved mine too, obviously! You didn't have to do that, though." The wind howls again, and Steve thinks he can hear Eddie's teeth chatter.

"Eddie, where are you? The north pole?" Steve laughs.

"Might as well be", He chuckles back, "Hunting takes you all sorts of places, you know? I was snug as a bug earlier. I had that nice set of hat and gloves your folks got me on, but then I came out here to call you, and I thought I'd have a smoke and didn't want to ruin them" Steve laughs at Eddie's sweetness.

"Did you like what I got for you, baby?" Steve asks quietly, shielding his mouth and the phone mouthpiece to prevent anyone at home from hearing.

"Are you kidding me???!!" Eddie yells, "I fucking love them. I can't tell you how handy these boots have been today!" Steve hears a rustle against the phone, and he knows it's Eddie's hair, as he says gently, "And the necklace is beautiful. I'm never taking it off again, not even the little baseball bat pendant. I love it so much, baby. Thank you"

Hearing his voice soft like that causes a lump in Steve's throat, "This is gonna sound dumb. I know you've only been gone for a few days, but… I've missed you so much, Eddie. I can't wait for you to come home."

Eddie laughs, and there is a slight sniffle, "Oh thank god, I thought it was just me being dramatic", a sigh of relief, "I've missed you so fucking bad" Steve can picture Eddie's mouth all tensed up against the receiver, from the way he says that, "But I promise, it's gonna be worth it. I even got you something a little extra today. I think you're gonna really like it." Eddie says in a sing-song voice down the phone.

"Steve!! Nonna is leaving!!!" Someone calls out, and Steve sighs.

"I'm sorry honey, I gotta go, but we'll see you tomorrow, right?" Steve asks hopefully.

"With fucking bells on, babe. God, I can't wait to hold you again! Maybe you should wrap yourself in a bow for me, huh?" Eddie says mischievously.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie! Tone it down," Steve heard Uncle Wayne grumble, then the quick shift of leather and chain, which meant Eddie had just flipped him off.

"These people don't care. Hey!! Hey lady!! Do you care that I let my baby know how much I love and miss them?" Eddie yells.

"Chile' I wish someone as fine as you wanted to wrap me in a bow, rope, newspaper, whuteva", comes a slurring, unfamiliar voice.

"See, no one cares, Wayne. Just you being a Scrooge Mc Grinchy pants," Eddie smugly adds before there is an exasperated sigh from Wayne, making Steve laugh heartily.

"There's my favourite song," Eddie says lovingly.

"I can't wait to see you, honey. I love you," Steve says gently.

"I love you too, baby. See you tomorrow, my love," Eddie says, and Steve puts down the receiver.

"So there was some girl action whilst we were away, huh? Kept that quiet, didn't ya?" Mr Harrington's voice comes from the study door.

"Shit…D-Dad. How long have you been stood there?" Steve starts to sweat, even though it's clear his Dad thinks it was a girl.

"Hey, calm down, son, it's ok. We've all been there. I only heard you say goodbye. I wasn't eavesdropping, just came to get you for Nonna, that's all. You know she won't go without a kiss from her favourite Stefano," he laughs, and Steve breathes again.

Thankfully the next 24 hours pass quickly, and when the sound of Eddie's many keyrings jingle against the door. Steve has to restrain himself from vaulting over the sofa to get to it first. Instead, he begrudgingly sits still on the couch and casually looks over the back of it when he walks in, waves, gets up slowly and shakes his hand.

"Merry Christmas, Eddie."

"Merry Christmas, Steve."

The exchange sounds like a casual formality. But the heat between their palms, the intensity in their stare and the electricity surrounding them was anything but.

"Eddie, thank you so much for my gift. It was so beautiful." Steve's Mom's voice sings out as she embraces Eddie, and their handshake ends.

"Same here, big guy. Real quality stuff," Mr Harrington says from his armchair, swilling his malt whiskey around in his new tumbler.

Once released from a hug, Eddie stretches his arms out and twirls, "And clearly, I love mine. They came in so handy yesterday. It's so cold up there! Oh, that reminds me." Eddie pulls out a Tupperware box full of ice, "Uncle Wayne wanted to send you some of the venison. Save it going to waste." Eddie takes it to the refrigerator, and as he bends down, the shine of the silver chain catches Steve's eye, and he smiles happily.

"I'm just gonna dump my clothes in the laundry, and then I'll be right back," Eddie says, picking up his bags.

"You know what, my stuff is still in there. Sorry, man. I'll move it," Steve says quickly.

Alone in the laundry room, Steve made sure to make a lot of noise opening the washing machine as he pulled Eddie to him for a kiss, which for a second he melted into with a whimper before moving away quickly, whispering, "Steve, are you crazy?? They are right there!! Believe me, I know, I get it, we just gotta wait a few more days, after new years, and they'll be back on the road, ok honey."

Steve frowned a little. He knew Eddie was right, but he just couldn't help himself. He removes his clothes from the washer and dumps them in the drier, saying nothing.

"Steve," Eddie says softly and apologetically, putting his laundry in the machine, "Come on, sweetheart, it's only a few more days. Then we've got the whole place again. It hurts me too, so much. I just don't want anything to go tits up you know? Also.." he shuts the lid of the machine and turns it on, "I've got something that is gonna cheer you up!" He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out an envelope, and offers it with a whispered, "Merry Christmas, baby."

Steve opened the envelope, and inside were just a bunch of clippings and a folded-up map. Steve looks up at Eddie, "Is this some kind of treasure hunt?"

"Kinda", Eddie grins, fidgeting with his rings and moving quickly from side to side with nervous and excited energy.

Steve unfolded the map and realised it was a map of a city. New York City, parts of it are scribbled out, and other bits are circled. Steve remembers feeling pretty stupid at the time, but worse was Eddie's smile dropped, "You don't like it?"

"It's not that," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck, "I kinda don't get it."

"Ohhh. Well, that's because you don't have all the pieces, babe. Here, look" Eddie takes a clipping from the envelope. It has the letter A on it. Eddie points to the area of the map that also has the letter A on it.

Steve takes a closer look at the clipping. It's an apartment listing.

Eddie looks at him, hopefully.

"Are all of these…" Steve picked out a handful and started reading. Apartments, Loft spaces. House shares.

"Eddie", Steve says in amazement as he feels the emotion well up in him, "You said you were hunting…."

"I was. I was home hunting." Eddie smiles big and then quickly turns back to the map, "and all these areas here," he points at places on the map, "Are full of people like us, or at least more accepting, you know, or at least seemed like it, on recommendations from a guy uncle Wayne knew, who was definitely suuuuuper gay" Eddie laughs.

"You did all that for us?" Steve says quietly.

"I just felt bad about the other day, it's not fair you can't tell your folks, and I got to tell Wayne, but I stick by what I said, we should wait, but I thought, next week we could go see these places or find new ones, and once we have one. We'll tell them together, ok? I promise. And if it goes south, we're still ok. I know it's far, and we wanted to stay with everyone, but people around here don't get it. Maybe we can move back when this place finally catches up with us, yeah?" Eddie spoke quickly, trying to cover all the bases and being reassuring.

"Could we go tomorrow?" Steve asked excitedly.

"I mean, I just got back, but why the hell not. At least some of these might still be available if we go sooner" Eddie grins widely at Steve, still being careful to be quiet, "Gods, I could kiss you right now", He adds in a whisper, eyes trained on Steve's mouth. "You're perfect."

"Well, you can't because of your own stupid rules", Steve teases, causing Eddie to grumble in frustrated disappointment.

"I know, I know. I'm stupid, so very stupid," Eddie says, pouting and pretending to cry into his hands.

Steve gathers all the papers in the envelope and folds it in his pocket, "Very stupid, but you make up for it by being kinda cute, sometimes."

"KINDA?!!" Eddie shouts, and Steve immediately covers his mouth.

They look at one another, and the laughter takes over.

"So if this is the hunt you went on, where is the meat from?" Steve asks as he sets the drier.

"Uncle Wayne's Freezer", Eddie winks, "Technically, it is from a hunt, just not this one."

That night over cocktails that Eddie had magically just remembered the recipes of, he regales them in a theatrical retelling of the hunt. During a particularly funny sequence where Eddie accidentally backs onto the frozen lake and reenacts Bambi on ice, Steve feels someone looking at him. As he turns, he meets the gaze of his Mom, and she gives him the warmest smile and looks between him and Eddie.

He felt right then she knew. For how long, he didn't know, but he'd promised Eddie he'd wait, so he looked away quickly, got up, refilled the drinks, excused himself outside for a smoke, and left the others entertained by Eddie's performance.

Steve can still remember how cold it was that night, even though the alcohol was warming him from the inside a little. The glass door slides open minutes later, and he expects Eddie, but strangely it's his Dad.

He has a merry smile on his face as he flicks open his own cigarette case and offers one to Steve. 

They both light up, and Steve had been ready to thank him for all his gifts for the hundredth time since he got them, but instead, his Dad speaks.

"Steven, I know we've had our ups and downs. But, let's face it, mainly downs," he laughs nervously, which Steve had never heard before, "I don't want to be too airy fairy about it, but I just wanted to tell you how exceptionally proud I am of the man you're becoming. Was it what I had envisioned for you? No. But these, er friends, people you surround yourself with after that young girl went missing, seem to have helped you blossom in a way I don't think I could have." He takes a good glug of the Manhattan cocktail in his hand, "And NYC, huh? You know what they say, if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere," he half sings the last part.

Steve remembers staying very still, almost dropping the cigarette in his hand.

His Dad smiles and picks a newspaper clipping out of his pocket, "I know Eddie's a creative type, so the village makes perfect sense. I'm not sure what you might do there, but um, there is so much I don't know about you, son, and that is absolutely on me."

Steve moves forward, raising his hands in an instinctive submission, "Dad, I'm sorry. We were gonna tell you soon. We just hadn't figured it all out yet."

"Hey, Champ. Don't ever apologise for reaching for the brass ring, ok? Squeeze every last drop of nectar from life while you can." He put his arm around Steve and pulled him in close, and he knew it was the drink, but wow, did it feel good, "You're my boy, my only boy. I might not always understand you, but I wanna keep trying, Steve, ok?"

Steve could still feel his Dad's arm around him, pulling him in tight, and when he opened his eyes, he could see Eddie smiling happily at his Mom in the kitchen leaning over the island, and she's beaming back at him, showing him how to make some other cocktail, and Steve just felt the stars had aligned.

He pulled back slowly from his Dad, patting him on the back, "Ah, that's enough at that smush, eh, old timer?"

"Talking of mush. When are we gonna meet this special girl?" 

Steve swallows hard, and his eyes betray him by glancing into the kitchen, his Dad's face frowns, and Steve licked his lips nervously.

His Dad glances back into the kitchen and then back at Steve with a laugh, "Don't worry, I won't tell your mother. Guy code, am I right? What's she like? Is she hot? Got a nice ass? Bit of a tiger, is she?"

Steve can't help but blush and laugh.

"Come on, tell you're old man all about it. Bet you've told Eddie already, right?" His Dad coaxes.

And Steve takes the bait.

"I've told Eddie some of it, yeah," Steve says, looking at the ground, biting the side of his thumb, and looking back up at his Dad, who raises his eyebrows.

"Well, now I gotta know about this girl who has escaped locker room talk with your best friend. It sounds serious." He Dad chuckles.

"I think it might be. She is…um…hot, but also beautiful, you know. A totally amazing ass, if I'm being honest" he and his Dad laughed together as Steve got some congratulatory hard pats on the back. 

Steve continues, "And smart, thoughtful, caring, talented. Honestly, everything I'd wished for and then some. Great to talk to. They make me laugh so hard. I never get bored of spending time with them, even when they're rabbiting on about something I don't understand, and everything is so easy, no…you know…stupid mind games. I can completely be myself. So it's like all the good stuff and a great friend, too, like the cherry on top. The best." Steve says enthusiastically.

He looks back at his Dad, who looks a little confused, "Steve, I mean, she sounds great, but um, if you and Eddie are going to new york, maybe getting into something that sounds this serious right now is a bad move. New York is a huge eclectic place. Temptation all around, you know? You're only young."

Steve takes another sip of his Long Island Iced Tea, a particularly potent gulp, and burns a little on the way down. Almost making his head spin, "I think I can behave. He's worth it."

Mr Harrington's frown deepens, "I think you've had a few too many, Steve. Or maybe I have. I thought you said he." He laughed, but it fizzled out when his eyes looked over a frozen-in-place Steve, who, despite the cold, was beginning to sweat.

Then it is just a snowball rolling down a mountain of shit. Everything starts to go wrong. Steves's eyes involuntarily darted towards Eddie and back to his Dad, who put his hands on his hips and looked back at Eddie too, but Eddie must sense them and turned and gave them both a big grin and little wave before turning back to help Mrs Harrington.

Steve was locked in place by his Dad's stare. His mouth is arid as the desert, and the cigarette in his hand is just burning away. Then his Dad blinks with a tight mouth "Eddie?" He queries, approaching Steve to look directly into his eyes, looking for signs of deception.

Steve just trembles in place, not knowing what to do. He'd guessed, and Steve had promised to wait, but should he lie now, after he was in such a good place with his parents. His Mom looked like she knew.

Swallowing hard, hands becoming slippery with clamminess, Steve almost drops his glass and puts it on the table nearby, but his Dad dips his head to follow Steve's eyes with a fiercesome glare.

"Tell me the truth, Steve, are you…" his Dad looks like he's going to throw up, "The person you were talking about is a girl, right. Not the guy sitting in my kitchen right now talking to my wife."

Steve motions to go inside and escape the conversation. Maybe his Dad would get so drunk he'd forget all about this tomorrow.

He's stopped with a firm grip on his arm and pulled back to where he was, "Look at me, Steve. Tell me now. I won't judge you, ok. I promise. I just want to know."

Steve felt promise at his Father's words and nervously chewed his lips, still unsure what to do.

"Let me make it easy for you, son. Just answer yes or no, ok? Did something…um…sexual or romantic happen between you and Eddie? Just a yes or no. You've got nothing to be scared of." He reassured Steve, holding his upper arms now much more gently.

Steve feels the tears well up in his eyes, and he nods, "Yeah", he manages to croak out, "I mean, yes. Yes, it did."

His Dad smiles at him, "Hey buddy, that's ok."

"Yeah?" Steve says, full of hope wiping his tears away.

"Yeah, don't you worry about anything. That was a brave thing to admit, Steve. Wait here, ok. I'm gonna go grab us something to take the edge off, yeah? Everything is gonna be alright" he pulls Steve's head forward and kisses him on the forehead, "You're my boy. I love you. I'd do anything for you."

Steve remembers looking out into the night in happy disbelief. He lit another cigarette. He knew Eddie would be pissed. He'd messed up the plan, but it was out there now, his Dad was ok with it, and Steve felt his Mom knew already, anyway. He looked up at the stars and whispered, "Thank you."

The stars didn't reply.

He glances back into the kitchen and sees his Dad has made a pit stop in the kitchen. He's chatting with Eddie and his Mom. Steve decides to get up to join them. No one noticed him walk in. The conversation looked intense. Once inside, Steve can hear them clearly.

"So Steve told me something interesting just now. Something about somethings that have been going under my own roof whilst we were away, honey" Mr Harrington is talking to his wife, but he's looking directly at Eddie.

Steve sees Eddie nervously swallow but tries to remain calm. "Like what, Mr H? The keg stand competition?"

"Oh, Eddie, it's a bit late in the proceedings to be playing coy." His Father added sinisterly before slamming his hand against the countertop, and his face reddening, "OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF OUR HEARTS, we let a little piece of trailer trash into our home, honey. And you know what he did to repay us?" He says, getting closer to Eddie, who has his eyes trained on Mr Harrington. Alert but not scared or angry. He's completely still, much like Steve had been outside.

"He brainwashed our son and took advantage of him. Messed up my boy, my only boy. You hear me, honey. What this devil did in our own home? To Steve? Disgusting, depraved things. HONEY?! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?" He bellows but doesn't take his eyes off Eddie.

"John, listen, you need to calm down, ok. You're just in shock, and that's ok, but everything will be fine. I was worried too at first, but Steve is so happy. That's what we wanted for him, isn't it, John? And Eddie hasn't corrupted or hurt anyone. It's just something that happened between them" Mrs Harrington tries to soothe him with her words.

Mr Harrington throws his head back and laughs, slapping his hand against the countertop a few times, "Oh, you stupid bitch. He got you, too, did he? That's why he spends so much time with you. Twisting your simpleton brain to his will, getting you on his side, so he could get his claws in our boy."

Steve can't believe what he's hearing and finally approaches and stands next to Eddie, "Dad, what happened? Come on, don't talk to Mom like that. Outside just now, everything was ok, wasn't it?"

Eddie stands up and says with gentle caution, "Sir, I didn't do those things, but I understand you're angry, so maybe it's best if we just go."

"We? WE?!!" Mr Harrington rages right in Eddie's face, but he remains calm and looks right back at him, letting him finish before turning to Steve and his Mom, "Come on, let's give him some space to calm down. He's had a big shock. He just needs a bit of time."

"I think I need to stay, Eddie. He's very distressed." Mrs Harrington replies shakily.

Steve catches the split-second sneer on Eddie's face, his eyes still on Mr Harrington as he says tight-lipped, "I can't leave either of you here with him like this"

"Oh, it's me, is it? I'm the bad guy? You repulsive fucking wretch. Attempting to turn my own family against me. Your kind disgusts me, spreading your viruses, preying on the naive and twisting them to your depraved wants until you're done. Then you spit them out, don't you? Send them home, broken, irreparable because they suffered your demonic perversions. He'll never be the same now. You've condemned him to hell. My boy is a dumb shit, but he could have had a chance. I probably would have had to pay someone to give him a chance, but I'd get his foot in the door. Now all that's waiting for him is a painful, early death in a hospital bed or getting beaten to death in an alley somewhere." 

Eddie's nose wrinkles in loathing and Steve can see his hands are in tight fists, "You know what… let's go, Steve."

Steve looked at his Mom, and she gave him a small smile and nodded.

Steve walks past Eddie to get his coat and keys, but he's not even a few steps to the door before he hears his Mom's ear-splitting scream, shortly followed by Eddie's voice.

"Now, Mr Harrington. I think we all just need to relax a little ok. We're gonna be out of your hair, ok?" Eddie's voice is unnaturally cold but calm.

"You're not leaving this property, Munson. I swear to god!!" Steve hears his Father yell at Eddie.

Once turned around. It takes a few seconds for Steve to process what he sees. His Mom with her hands to her mouth, shaking. Then, with his hands up, Eddie slowly walks backwards, his eyes unflinching from someone, he's talking too softly for Steve to make out the words, but he can see his mouth moving.

He follows Eddie's eye line and, slowly emerging into the frame from the archway, is his Dad. Arms out in front of him, glaring at Eddie with a handgun pointing right at him.

"What the fuck" Steve's hands went to his head, "This is crazy. This is crazy." He mutters to himself before stepping towards Eddie in an attempt to shield him. 

"Dad, please look at me. Put the gun down. Eddie hasn't done anything wrong. We can talk about this. It's not as bad as you think it is." Steve was trying to get the attention of his Dad, pleading with him to see reason.

"Steven, if you don't step away from this heathen. I swear to god I WILL BLOW HIS FUCKING BRAINS OUT!" Mr Harrington yells out, and Steve immediately steps back, and for the first time since this started, Eddie turns and looks Steve in the eyes.

His whole expression immediately changes from a cold hard stare to a soft, almost regretful gaze. Steve sees fear in Eddie's eyes for the first time in a long time.

"B-Steve, I think you and your Mom need to leave, please. You don't need to see this." his voice is soft and full of care. He thinks he's done for and is just sparing Steve and his Mom the gory visuals, "Please, Steve."

"Stop looking at my boy like that, you degenerate!! Don't talk to him that way. This is what they meant before, isn't it all those murders…that cult…I can see now that was all true. How he twists people around, just like this." Eddie's eyes immediately snap back to Mr Harrington, back to that same cold hard stare.

"Dad, you don't understand. Please calm down. This is getting way out of hand." Steve tries again

"I tell you what I understand, Steven. This man was welcomed into my home. He corrupted my beautiful boy, brainwashed my wife, and now he's trying to slither away like the serpent he is, so he can steal you away until he's done. He'll let everyone know what he did here and ruin us. I can't let him walk out of here and do that. I can't. He can't leave here!" Mr Harrington's thumb clicks something on the gun.

"John, you need to stop. I'm on the phone with the police already. We can resolve this. Let the boys go, John." Mrs Harrington says half with authority and half with reassurance.

Mr Harrington squeezes his eyes shut for a moment with frustration. Despite the cold air still rushing in from outside, beads of sweat form on his forehead, "Aren't you listening to me?! He can't leave. Does your poor excuse for a brain understand that?" Mr Harrington turns to his wife, "You traitorous bitch!"

Time stops for Steve. He's seen his opportunity, and he's going to seize it. Mr Harrington's cruel eyes on his wife. Her eyes turn to Steve as he rushes forward. He hears Eddie call his name to stop him, but he's too late. The last person to turn to him is his Dad, as Steve hits his Dad's forearms from above with all his might, dropping the gun.

Time starts up again. Steve quickly finds the safety and tosses the gun out of the open door into the backyard somewhere.

 He turns, relieved to have diffused the situation, only to be met by a hard shove in the chest from his Dad, he stumbles backwards over a barstool, and the back of his head makes solid contact with the marble countertop edge, and he drops to the floor.

He's staring at the ceiling, well, snippets of it, intermittently cutting to black when his eyelids open and shut.

Eddie's face comes into the frame, "Steve? Can you hear me?"

He feels Eddie pick him up in his arms, "Steve? Please talk to me? You're gonna be ok."

Steve tries to smile as he gets lost in Eddie's eyes until there is another hysterical scream from his Mom.

Eddie's eyes go frantic, "What is it? What is it?!!!" Then his eyes move to the floor behind Steve. Eddie's eyebrows pinch together, "No-no-no-no! I got you. I got you, ok?" One of Eddie's hands is slick with something as he caresses his face. Eddie's face contorts into absolute sorrow, and the tears start welling up, "Stay with me, baby, please" He feels Eddie grip him tighter, but his arms are shaking.

"I-Im sorry, I didn't mean to" His Dad's voice trembles.

Eddie's face screws up as he turns to the voice, "I WILL FUCKING END YOU IF YOU TOUCH HIM!!!" Eddie screams out before turning back and running his hands over Steve's face and hair. "Look what you did…oh god…look what you did to my baby." His breath is shuddering as Eddie rocks them both back and forth.

The periods of darkness start to get a little longer with every closing of his eyelids, "No-no-no-no. Steve! Steve no. You stay here. You stay here with me, ok? Don't leave me, baby. Please. I love you, please. Oh god. Please." Eddie beseeches Steve and the air around them as the tears run down his face.

Then it fades to black, and all Steve hears is a primal cry of anguish and pain unleashed by Eddie.

Steve's eyes flutter open, he feels pressure at the back and around his head, and as the world comes into focus, he can see his Mom above him, but she's not looking at him.

"Eddie, honey. Just put the knife down. We don't need anymore…" then she just bursts into tears.

"Oh, I'm not gonna end this fucker, that quickly" Eddie's voice is low, menacing, and his words drip with pure venom, "I'm gonna make you regret you were born every fucking day of your life. First, they're gonna lock you the fuck up, and I will make sure that word gets around in there, and you definitely get the hospitality package for whiney bitches." There is a thud and a whimper from Mr Harrington. "And then when they inevitably let you go, I'm gonna make sure you never know peace. You'll always be looking over your shoulder for me, John. Always, I promise you that." Then there is a sob from Eddie, and his voice completely changes. It flips from icy cool to emotional "Why'd you do that? YOU STUPID FUCK!! You stole him from me. Why? Why? Why?" There is a series of thuds, "Oh god, my baby's gone, and it's all your fault. YOU KILLED HIM, YOU FUCK!!!" he rages and then hears Eddie take a sharp sobbing breath in with a sigh, and the other voice is back again.

"I'll be watching you always, John, and if you dare try to take the easy way out, I'm gonna intervene because you don't get to do that now. Not anymore. I'll decide when you go. An eye for an eye. Isn't that what it says in your book, huh? Isn't that what your god says?" Steve hears a sharp intake of breath from his Dad, "Well, I'm your god now, John. You better learn to sleep with one eye open."

"Eddie, please just back up a little, ok? You can still restrain him for the cops without doing anything that might implicate you, ok?" Steve's Mom gently reminds him, and her shoulders relax a little, which must mean Eddie heeded her words." The cops and the ambulance are on their way."

Steve feels he can move his fingers and reaches out for his Mom's trouser leg. He tries to grip it to tug on it but ends up pawing at it.

Her eyes shoot down to him with happy surprise, and she's on the floor next to him, lifting him up, tears spilling down her face as she squeezes him tight. 

As Steve slowly sits up, he can see Eddie has his Dad pinned up against the wall, a huge chef's knife to his throat, staring imposingly into his Dad's petrified eyes.

Steve's head is pounding, but he tries to call him anyway, "E-Eddie?"

Steve sees Eddie's brows push together, he takes a deep shuddering breath as his expression crumbles, and he blinks the tears out of his eyes, still trying to keep focused on Mr Harrington, "I hear you, baby. I hear you." he sniffles out before repositioning himself to lean into a horror-stricken Mr Harrington.

"No, Eddie. He's awake," his Mom manages.

"Wh-what?" Eddie's body shifts from one side to the other. He's still pushing Mr Harrington into the wall. Then he dares to turn and look at Steve, and he completely caves. His arms drop to his sides, and he lets out a quiet, "Steve? Please don't say I've gone crazy." He says in a barely-there voice and looks frantically at Mrs Harrington.

Steve slowly gets to his feet with the help of his Mom and some furniture and smiles, nodding.

Eddie's face is pure disbelief, but he can't take his eyes off Steve as he steps to turn the rest of himself towards him. Before he can, Mr Harrington lunges for him again, but something stops him in his tracks.

Eddie turns back to look at Mr Harrington, then his eyes move down, and he swallows hard. Eddie's horror-filled eyes move up and down Mr Harrington repeatedly, and Steve can't work out why Eddie is standing still and not walking over to him until Mr Harrington starts to slump.

"I didn't…I-I-I didn't mean to…" Eddie shakily says. As Steve gets closer, he can see Eddie's hand still on the knife handle, but the blade is entirely plunged into Mr Harrington's abdomen.

Blood starts to leak out of the corner of his mouth. Eddie cannot look away from what is happening before him and is stunned into a terrified silence.

"We all saw him lunge at you, Eddie. It was an accident, ok? The ambulance is on its way. They'll fix him up. No one is going to blame you." Mrs Harrington tries to reassure him.

Steve, on the other hand, knows what this means for Eddie, at the very least, prison. Especially with Eddie's past of running from the law. He doesn't have the money for bail. They might even attempt to bring up what he had been cleared of before in the light of new evidence. 

Steve approaches slowly and puts his hand over Eddie's on the knife handle, "It's ok, honey. Shh-shhh", and Eddie finally looks at Steve again, silently, his eyes begging for help.

With his free hand, Steve gently prizes Eddie's fingers away from gripping onto the knife. His breaths are stunted, like he's crying, but there aren't any tears in his eyes, just pure terror.

Steve turns Eddie, so his whole body faces him, "I need you to know how much I love you, Eddie. I won't let him or anyone else take you from me. You hear me?" Steve says in earnest as Mr Harrington finally slumps to the ground next to them.

Eddie's eyes blink quickly before he makes a choked sound, "Steve?" He asks as his eyebrows knit together, searching Steve's eyes.

A tear spills down Steve's face as his hand is still firmly on the knife's handle. The blade no longer plunged into his Father but his lover.

At his desk, Steve runs his hands down his face to push down the emotions. They were gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that. Short of time travel. If only he had lied.

For a long time, Steve's regrets centred around both his Father and Eddie, but he knew deep down, no matter what improvements his Father had seemed to have made, whilst he was breathing, Eddie was as good as dead. 

Even knowing that, Steve wasn't glad his Father was gone. He wasn't built that way. Killing monsters was one thing, but a human, his family, his Father? He knew he'll never be able to unshoulder that guilt that his Father wasn't here anymore because of him. Eddie hadn't deliberately injured him. Even when he had a chance to. Even when he thought Steve was gone. 

Steve hangs his head. 

He, on the other hand, had deliberately stabbed Eddie. Not to kill him, to save him. He wouldn't have landed in a place like this, not with his track record. But he'd misjudged his placement, or maybe Eddie's blood didn't clot as well as most, or something just got fucked up.

Steve could still feel the warm liquid pulsating over his thumb and down the back of his hands as he pulled out the knife and tried to put pressure on the wound. Eddie looked so confused, but his eyes never left Steve's. Not until the lights in them went out.

The buzzer yanks Steve out of his memories, "All set, Harrington?" The guard smiles at him.

Steve gathers up his notepad and smiles back with a nod, "Absolutely!"

"It's gonna be a little less pleasant around here without ya. This bunch finally had a team that stood a chance against us on the court with you around." The guard chuckles.

"Well, what else was I gonna do with my time here?" Steve shrugs.

"I don't get to say this often, but it's been a pleasure having you, Harrington. But I sincerely hope I never see you here ever again. So keep outta trouble now," the guard says as Steve is guided through processing to leave.

He hadn't had to stay here as long as he thought he would. His Mom had hired a great legal team. At first, he'd almost cleanly gotten away with it all as self-defence, but once it got out how much his Dad was insured for, his grandparents got involved. They'd never much liked him or his Mom. she wasn't old money like they were.

Thankfully, though that battle went on for a few months, their legal team had ensured Steve would be held in a lower security, nicer facility. It was honestly much closer to rehab than a prison. The privileges of money and networking with the right people in full effect. 

Bail was an option, but Steve had requested against it. The team said it looked good, showed he was remorseful, and Steve was wholeheartedly, but that wasn't why he didn't want to return home. It wasn't home anymore, not really.

Eventually, the ruling returned to self-defence, and Steve was free to go home. Today.

And though this day was supposed to be joyous, it felt so desperately bittersweet. He'd be free, but he'd be lost without Eddie. He sighs and collects his things to get changed. He definitely would need to buy some new clothes soon. He'd bulked out more than he thought, as the gym and sports were what he'd filled the time with. They were the only place he could channel his frustrations. He'd tried writing but could never capture his imagination or memories on paper.

The gates open, and Steve takes his first step back into everyday life. The black executive car waits for him across the street. The chauffeur gets out to open the door, and his Mom bursts out of it, running towards him, and engulfs him in a big hug before they get in the car.

"You hungry, sweetie? We could stop someplace?" She asks gently.

He shakes his head, "No, I'm ok. I just wanna get home."

Steve bursts into tears at his last word. That place was a house for so long. Eddie made it home, and now he'd have to go back and sit in their home without him.

His Mom's arm moves around his shoulders and pulls him to her., As she winds down the partition, "Straight home, please. Where you can step on it."

She turns her attention back to Steve, "It's gonna be ok. We're gonna be ok." She soothes and strokes his hair gently.

He looks up at her, his face creased in anguish, "It's not home, now. I can't face staying there, Mom. I'm sorry."

"That's ok, honey. We'll find something else, ok? We can go wherever you want tomorrow. It's just one night, and we'll go to a hotel if it's too much." She takes his hand in both of hers and squeezes it.

"I know I've made mistakes, Steve. I hope in time you can forgive me. A better mother would have taken your place. I am so sorry. I've done everything in my power to help you where I could. Where I was brave enough, anyway." Her words ring of genuine remorse, and Steve looks up at her and gives her a small smile and nod.

They get back, and she probably doesn't need to, but she shows Steve around anyway, and a lot has changed. The interior is more minimalist and modern all around. The trailers are gone, a pool is in their place, a new gym, and the kitchen has been completely changed. Everything is different here: the materials, the furniture and the placement of appliances. This might be the change Steve is most thankful for because it's much harder to place ghosts where they've never been.

"Want these upstairs, Ms Palladino? The chauffeur's Brooklyn accent rings out.

"No, just in the hallway is fine. I need to sort through them," She calls back as she hands Steve a coke from the fridge. 

"Do I get to change my name too?" Steve says with a half smile.

"If that's what you want, Steve, we can make it happen. Anything you want, ok?" She smiles over at him and pats his hand.

He takes a sip, hearing a stumble and an audible grunt from the hallway, "Damn, steam trunks are mad heavy." Steve puts down his can and goes to help.

"Here, let me help you out with that. I keep telling her to update, you know, but Moms, huh?" Steve says, rolling up his sleeves.

As Steve bends down, the light through the open doorway hits the silver chain peeking through the driver's open collar. Steve squints at first but then looks again. He sees the baseball bat pendant, "Where did you…." Steve starts angrily before his eyes begin to take in other details of the driver.

The oversized aviators and hat obscured the top half of his slender face, but now Steve could see his hair tucked into the cap. A tiny rogue wavy tendril had wrestled its way to freedom. The man's hands had bands of much paler skin on some of his fingers. His elegant neck, severe jawline and finally, his pillowy mouth.

"Eddie?"

A big smile spreads across the driver's face as he stands up. He pulls off the sunglasses and hat, freeing his hair.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart", is all he says with a smile before rushing to embrace Steve.

"But you…I thought you were…I thought I'd…." Steve stumbles over his words.

Squeezing him so tightly, Eddie speaks into his neck, "Believe me, I wanted to see you so many times, baby, but we thought it might affect the case, you know? And I know you didn't mean to hurt me that badly." Eddie holds onto Steve's face as he moves his head back, so his forehead touches Steve's. His hands cradle Steve's face as he stares into his eyes. "Oh, I've missed these," he says as he bites his lips together for a second before he begins rambling again. "I know you wanted it to look like he got me, came at you, and you had to defend yourself. I'm sorry we hid that I was ok from you. Can you forgive me?"

Steve nods as the tears fall from his eyes.

Steve sees Eddie swallow hard and looks away, mumbling words to a question that he doesn't know if he wants the answer to, "Are we still…I mean…do you still…can you still love me, after what I did?"

Steve pulls him in for a tear-drenched kiss, "You'll always have my heart, Eddie", Steve says with a soft sigh, "Just quit dying on me, ok?" He adds with a small laugh.

Eddie's eyes lock onto Steve's, "That old grim reaper has gotta get a whole lot quicker to catch Eddie Munson" before his eyes dip down, and he captures Steve's lips with his own once more. 

Steve knows, at that moment, there is a new line just waiting to be added to Eddie's repertoire on the horizon, "Remember that time my husband killed me?"

[rickie-the-storyteller]

*ecstatic waving*

For the character ask thing.

Can you please tell me about Alice?

*cheerfully waves back*

My first character ask ever! Let's go!

I love Alice so much. She's an underrated character in the series imo. I'd love to tell you a few things about her.

I'll try not to give any major spoilers... in case you want to read what I've posted related to the story yourself. But here's Alice in a nutshell!

(More below)

Here's a link to a small summary I've written recently for the series where Alice appears:

I wasn't allowed to mention any names, but Alice is the "sassy American redhead." I don't think I've ever straight-up mentioned the fact that she's an American girl, but if you follow the dialogue series for this story, you'd notice she says more "American" things lol (e.g. she refers to her mum as "Mom," while the rest of the characters say "Mum" 'cause they're all British haha). I wanted her to either be from Dallas or Kansas since it's where a few of my uncles and cousins live and I've been to those places a ton of times. Haven't officially decided yet, though. And it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, so... idk.

I've given her a little backstory as to how she and her family got to London in the first place - she grew up in America with her mum, Jenna, and her twin sister, Mary. Her father died when she was four. For the majority of her life, it's just been her mother and sister in the house. But then, Jenna meets Victor Johnson. They get together and after a couple of years of dating and meeting the rest of each other's friends and family (including Ben Leigh, Stephanie's boyfriend! Small world, huh?), they get married. And Jen, Mary and Alice all move to Victor's place in London. This happened when the twins are about 12 years old - just in time to start secondary school (I haven't come up with a name for the school yet lol. But I was thinking something like "Canary Hill" Secondary School? Or something... I like "Canary" because that's a type of bird, and one of the friends in the crew is super sporty, so it would be like the sports teams at the school have a kind of mascot lol. Even though we don't do mascots in England)

Which eventually brings us to now! By the events of the story, Alice is 17 (and she's a summer child lol. Her birthday is July 23rd, which makes her the youngest in the crew. Everyone else in the crew is already 18 or turns 18 early on in the story. Her birthday is right at the end). She's doing well! By now she has made a few friends and is currently in her final year of Sixth Form, studying Physics, Computing and Dance. Mary is in a different school (I called it "Brexham") because she's gifted. And at the very start of the series, we see her stressing herself out trying to do well at her most recent set of mock exams. Only to find out that she only barely passed when she got her results.

In terms of what her place in the group is, she's kind of the most "normal" out of all of the friends. Like... to an extent, they all sort of fit into a certain archetype or stereotype of some kind (I use these as a starting point and then work to develop them beyond that, and make them unique). So, there's the confident "it-girl" (Stephanie), the jock (Dylan), the troubled rebel (Bret) and the brainiac (Elise). Alice is an ordinary girl... but I labelled her as the sassy one, since she definitely has some of the most witty lines and a sarcastic sense of humour. She has a normal life... nothing huge or bad really happens to her. She and her family are a symbol of stability and security in the story (one of the characters even stays at her place when they get fed up of the stress of their own home lives). I think this is why her character is underrated in the story - she's just kind of there to most people, while others have whole crazy storylines, and they do crazy things. Alice just kind of vibes lol.

But there is so much more to her than all that. Like I said, she's one of the funnier characters (in my honest opinion. But they all have funny moments), and this was intentional from the beginning. She is incredibly insecure. And she masks a lot of her insecurities with humour. She's like the Chandler Bing of the group lol (not saying she's as funny as him lol. But you get what I'm saying). She's also prone to comparing herself with other people - she lives with a literal genius twin, and she struggles in school. She also thinks her life is super boring in comparison with everyone else she knows. She's constantly thinking, "Everyone is awesome so why aren't I?!?!" Poor thing lol.

But the thing about insecurities is that you focus so much on those things, that you forget about what makes you great. And a lot of the things you are self-conscious about are in your head (like, people don't notice those things about yourself that you hate). Alice has a lot of admirable traits and talents - she's funny and charismatic in her own unique way, she's a kind, supportive friend that is insanely loyal and always willing to help a friend out, she's an incredible dancer, she's hardworking and has a lot of resilience and drive, and she doesn't let failure get her down and stop her from improving. Remember how I said that she almost failed her mocks at the start of the story? Well, by the end, she's getting great grades, and she even wins an award for "most improved student of the year." She doesn't let a bad experience define her or overwhelm her too much... she learns from her failures and negative experiences, and she takes the time to grow and improve herself. She's actually really inspiring!

So yeah. That's Alice in a nutshell. Thank you so much for the ask, @the-stray-storyteller!! This was so much fun. Love talking about my characters <3

Here are a few more links for you (hope you enjoy these!):

[andromedaexists]

One Month Later (give or take 17 days)

I told y'all I would do an update to my full disclosure post once we hit one month of Δάιος being in the world, and this is me fulfilling that promise!!

It may or may not be seventeen days late though.... life's been a bit tough lately and this was the earliest I could to get to it 😅

ANYWAYS let's talk about what's happened in the last month and a half in regards to self publishing my debut novel: ΔΆΙΟΣ!

As I mentioned in the last update, Δάιος was initially published in eBook, paperback, and hard cover format through both KDP (Amazon's printing house) and IngramSparks. These are still the main was that I am selling my novel, but I have also expanded to include my own website as a store front with Ko-Fi possibly soon to come!

IngramSparks is still a bitch, but I have not run into any more issues with them. If anything, they've kinda come back with a redemption gift! There is a new beta program that I am a part of where I can create links and QR codes that lead customers to buying my book directly from IngramSparks.

This is amazing! That means that I can send people directly to my preferred printing house to buy a copy instead of having them go through a middle man and then wait for weeks for the middle man to get the copy and send it their way! PLUS I get a higher royalty this way! I'm really excited for this feature and what it could possibly do for indie authors in the future!!

KDP is also still a bitch but unfortunately amazon is my best selling platform so I'm stuck with it for the moment! I still can't get any author copies in my hands from them (I ordered 10 paperback copies back in October and they still have not printed and shipped. In this same amount of time I've gotten two orders of author copies from IS and honestly could have gotten more but I'm not selling that many just yet)

My website functioning as a shop is something I've wanted to do since I set up my website. I will say that I am looking at integrating the IngramSparks direct sell interface onto my site or possibly switch over to Ko-Fi, because good lord is sales tax wild. I have owned a business before (I think I still own the LLC too, even though I haven't been in business for a few years), so sales tax is not new to me and is something that I thought I was prepared for. What I wasn't prepared for was how fucked tax code is surrounding books. I genuinely cannot process it and most companies have a whole team dedicated to just US tax code, so selling through a company that will do those taxes for me is what I'm gonna have to do.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's talk numbers!

Since release day, I have received 47 orders through KDP

As you can see, there was a spike the first two days as preorders were processed and sent! Since then, I have had quite a few lulls. Most of these were due to the fact that I have not promoted my book like at all since publication.

Sure, I've made a few posts here and there (most of which are shitposts), but I have spent this past month and a half dedicating my time to my health, my schooling, and supporting my Palestinian siblings in any way that I can. That includes a complete (or near complete, as I have started to post once again as of late) silence on social media in order to amplify their voices.

Also it feels really icky to me to promote an anti-establishment book that hinges on a traumatized man overthrowing his government using riots when there is a literal genocide happening thanks to the backing of our government.

For these reasons, I have not been pushing my book as much as I should have as a debut indie author. Even still, I have received 47 orders on KDP. I am beyond grateful for each and every person who supported my chaos queers.

Of those 47 orders:

34 were eBooks

12 were paperbacks

1 was a hard cover

But don't forget: I've gone wide!

So, how many orders have I received through IngramSparks?

6!! 🎉🎉

Of these, 3 have been eBooks and 3 have been hard cover!! (no IS paperbacks yet...)

I am fairly certain that the eBooks are through foreign retail services like Kobo, since I have a decent group of Canadian and UK readers that would likely prefer that to Amazon!

The hard covers, well, I don't want to be too hopeful... but I think those were orders to bookstores! I applied to a couple in my area, and I really hope they love the book! Can you just imagine walking into a physical indie book shop and seeing your debut novel on their shelves?? That would be a dream come true!

One last place to look at numbers, and that is my website!

Since our last update, I have has two more orders! That means I have sold:

1 eBook

3 paperback

3 hard cover

1 sticker pack

Not too shabby! Especially given the circumstances at the moment!! I am looking at switching this over to Ko-Fi, but that will have to wait until after the holiday season when I can think again!

That brings my totals to:

It is very clear to me that Amazon eBooks are my bread and butter at the moment. Hopefully, I'll be able to sway it to IngramSparks direct or my own website, but hey! We're at a 60 sale milestone!! I'll take it!!

Now that we've gone through the numbers, let's talk earnings. Last time we talked, I told y'all that I spent $2,920.16 on the creation of Δάιος. That number has since gone up, since I've ordered more author copies. We are now sitting at $3,013.55 spent!

So, how much of that have I made back so far?

KDP: According to my calculations $105.82, but KDP is telling me that I actually made $118.77 (I think this is due to sales happening in other countries, I think the royalty rates are ever so slightly different in each country) IS: ??? Theoretically, $13.17 but I have no way of seeing that in my dashboard and probably won't see it until I hit like a $100 threshold with them Website: According to my calculations $117.93, but in actuality $122.93. There is no reason for this one to be off I need to figure that out (edit from future me: YOU DUMBASS IT'S THE $5 STICKER PACK)

That means I've made a ~$236.92 dent in the cost of my book!!! That's so exciting!!

I want to once again say that I know I am incredibly privileged to have a credit card I can put my expenses on as I slowly pay them off, and I do not regret anything I have done in the creation of my book. Even if it makes me cry a little bit at how much I spent.

On to the next thing! Here are some positives and negatives that I have not already mentioned.

Positive first:

My book is still a book!

My GoodReads rating has gone up a little bit thanks to another 5 star review! Icky baby is sitting at a comfy 4.8 right now!

The copyright has come in the mail! I need to frame it, but I fully own the copyright to Δάιος and the content within it!

People have already started asking for a book two 😭😭

Art commissions are starting to come in!

The placeholder chapter title has been fixed and no one noticed except for me! (and if they did, they didn't mention it to me)

And some negatives:

I figured out how to get creme paper for the hard cover editions, but I will have to completely re-do every step for IngramSparks using a new ISBN number and I just... don't wanna (maybe I'll do that right before the release of book two 👀👀)

People are asking for book two already 😭😭

I am mentally and physically at rock bottom right now and all my attention and willpower has been forcibly relocated to school. I need to graduate, I am only twoish weeks away. But that means I have not been able to do anything for this book and it hurts to see Icky baby stagnate like this when his story is meant to be shared

I was accidentally exposed to a two star review thanks to StoryGraph being too good of an app and not refreshing to the home page when I opened it to add a book to my tbr. This was... not a fun time

Now that we've made it through my incredibly long-winded post...

Thank yous for joining me back at the one month(ish) mark!! My next full disclosure update will be at the six (6) month mark. If y'all wanna keep updated with more shenaniganery that I get up to, make sure to check out my nifty newsletter or hand around here on tumblr (I promise I'll actually be back once I graduate. I just gotta. Get my degree.)

[iviarellereads]

The Neverending Story, Chapter 21 - The Star Cloister

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Neverending Story, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which I'm gonna have to just start slipping past the racist appropriation so I don't go off on tangents about it every few pages.

Uninterruptedly(1) new emissaries from all parts of Fantastica poured in to swell the army of those accompanying Bastian on his march to the Ivory Tower.

It soon becomes impossible to count them all. Bastian has a magnificent tent which is always set up in the middle of the camp. Atreyu and Falkor are still in the group, but haven't said a word to Bastian since the reprimand. Bastian secretly wants Atreyu to apologize, but he doesn't. Falkor seems to have forgotten how to fly, so he and Atreyu just walk together most of the time.

Bastian gets bored riding Yikka, and seeks out Xayide, who always shows him proper respect(2) and has something interesting to say as she smokes her "water pipe".(3) Bastian asks her about the giant armour, and Xayide says her will made them move, and indeed can control any empty vessel.(4)

Xayide asks if Bastian is really happy riding an old mule, and dithers over not wanting to tell him what she means even when he asks, until she suggests he think of his public image.

Bastian doesn't comment on this further, but the next day, he gives Yikka a story about her dearest wish: to be able to tell children and grandchildren about her time carrying Bastian, despite being a sterile mule. He gives her a story of a handsome winged horse, too shy to approach the huge caravan, that Yikka must leave to meet. Yikka is torn, because she loves being Bastian's mount and she's scared of change. Bastian encourages her, and she leaves.

For a long while Bastian looked after her as she hobbled off. He wasn't really happy about sending her away. [...] He kept telling himself that he had made Yikka's dearest wish come true. But that didn't make him feel any better. A person's reason for doing someone a good turn matters as much as the good turn itself.(5) But that made no difference to Yikka, for she really did find the white, winged stallion. They married and she had a son who was a white, winged mule. His name was Pataplan and he made quite a name for himself in Fantastica, but that's another story and shall be told another time.

Bastian starts riding in Xayide's litter with her, at the head of the procession. But he's not happy that Xayide convinced him to part with his friend, and she soon realizes the reason for his gloom. She offers him a gift: a belt that can make its wearer invisible. Bastian gives it the name Ghemmal to claim it.

When he tries it out, he's very unsettled by not being able to see his body(6) and he cannot find the belt or the clasp to release it. Xayide reaches into the air and finds the clasp almost immediately, releasing him. She uses this moment to broach a difficult topic: Bastian still sets store by friendship, but truly, he should harden his heart and cut loose the insolent Atreyu before he and Falkor cause Bastian harm. Bastian is at first unwilling to believe that Atreyu could mean him harm, but once the seed of thought is planted, he can't stop it growing.

That night, Bastian asks to be alone in his tent for a while, and he thinks hard not about Xayide's warning about Atreyu, but her words about wisdom. He has rushed from wish to wish, never stopping to feel content. He thinks wisdom is being above all emotion, and if he can achieve this, he will be immune from all harm. That is his final wish.(7)

A while later he leaves his tent, and six owls approach, messengers from Ghigam, the Star Cloister, where the Monks of Knowledge live. They were sent by Ushtu, the Mother of Intuition, one of the Deep Thinkers.(8) Their mission is to find the Great Thinker, who is, of course, Bastian,(9) to solve a problem they cannot. Bastian summons Xayide and Atreyu, and the owls fly the three to the Star Cloister.

The Monks of Knowledge are made up of all sorts of Fantasticans, but to enroll is to give up all your worldly connections, and devote your whole existence to knowledge, rather than material gains. Sometimes their numbers dwindle, but they never relax the entry requirements. The Superiors are like humans with animal heads. Ushtu (Intuition) has an owl head, Shirkry (Vision) an eagle head, and Yisipu (Reason) a fox head.(10)

Very formally, Skirkry speaks, asking Bastian if he will help them. Bastian agrees. Shirkry asks what Fantastica is. Bastian answers that it is The Neverending Story. The Superiors withdraw, promising to meet again the next day at this hour.(11) The three are led to guest rooms, and Xayide finds that her magic is out of reach in the cloister, so she's unable to summon a nicer bed.

The next day, they meet again, and Ushtu asks where The Neverending Story might be found, and Bastian says, in a book bound in copper coloured silk. They retreat again until the next night, return, and finally Yisipu asks where the book is. Bastian says, in the attic of a schoolhouse. Yisipu asks if Bastian can prove it, and Bastian says he can, and they should meet at the top of the Star Cloister the next night and watch the sky.

The next night, Bastian gathers them on the roof, and says the glowing gem's name backward, so that it shines with the light of a hundred years in a moment. Somehow, this rends the heavens into a vision of the attic, as Bastian left it. Once they recover from the flash blindness, the Superiors all say they saw their own animal in the attic, and ask Bastian to settle the matter. Bastian says they're all correct, and he's leaving now.

That night the usual harmony of the Three Deep Thinkers was disturbed by a first radical difference of opinion, which years later led to the breakup of the community. Then Ushtu the Mother of Intuition, Shirkry the Father of Vision, and Yisipu the Son of Reason each founded a cloister of his(12) own. But that is another story and shall be told another time. That night Bastian lost all memory of having gone to school. The attic and the stolen book bound in copper-colored silk vanished from his mind. And he even stopped asking himself how he had come to Fantastica.

=====

(1) The owls fly above a starry night sky over the desert. (2) The back to back contrast of Atreyu refusing to bow, and Xayide laying it on too thick is almost too unsubtle even for me, the person who rather enjoys being told things instead of hinted them. (3) I can't be sure what it's actually referring to, presumably some sort of hookah, but it amuses me to think of it as a bong instead today. (4) Huh, that's a funny coincidence as Bastian's brain becomes empty of memory. (5) I love this line in particular. Is it just outside narration, pointing to Bastian's failing that he doesn't recognize? Is it close narration, something Bastian acknowledges within himself? The ambiguity of the identity of the narrator also contributes to this question. It's been suggested that it's the old man in the mountain, but how much can we trust the narration to reveal itself? I have my gripes with this book as we explore it together like this, but I can't deny that when the writing is good, it's GOOD, and the translation is a work of art in its own right. (6) The eternally under-discussed side effect of invisibility! (7) And of course, we see that it costs him the last of his memory of home at the end of the chapter. (8) Even knowing German capitalizes all nouns, this is Too Many Capitals. (9) His wishes really do pay off in the least subtle of ways. I know it has to be that way, it's a children's book, and I'm an adult who has a fair bit more media literacy skill (because it is a skill you have to learn and flex) than a child. Children's books can be subtle and deep, and I grant this is reasonably deep, but subtle describes none of this. (10) We're taking it as given about powerful semi-humans with animal heads at this point, after all the sighing I've done about appropriation, right? (The most commonly acknowledged point of reference for this among white folks is Egyptian tradition, though I'm sure it exists elsewhere as well. But, Egypt is a thorny issue for white people to wade into, mythologically speaking.) (11) That all feels rather anticlimactic. (12) If I never encounter the default male again (from this, including Ushtu but saying "his", to people calling a mixed group "guys", to all the other insidious ways it persists) it will be too soon.

[minhosimthings]

Je Te Veux: A Jay Fic

Chapter 2: Cupcakes and Construction Sites

Important Note: This Chapter will be posted in two parts, which will be linked. A part of this chapter is also in screenshots and the very end. I apologise for the inconvenience because Tumblr has not been working properly lately. I promise I will fix the problem soon, but please bear with me for some time and enjoy this chapter.

Summary : Lee Y/N, youngest daughter of the Lee empire which rules of South Korea, meets a stranger one night at a Christmas party. Only fate knows what happens to both of them.

Pairings: Reader × RichHeir!Jay, includes rest of Enha. Mentions of Itzy, stray kids and other groups

Warnings: Mentions of food and alcohol, mention of dead bodies and blood, descriptions of falling and reader has an accident

A/N: second chapter yayyy. I know it seems kinda predictable from now on but I have something planned hehe

Part 1 ||| Part 2

Champagne is considered the most elegant of all alcoholic drinks because of its fine golden colour and it's sparkly little bubbles. But you disagree. You think that wine is the most beautiful alcoholic drink to ever exist. It was the first alcoholic beverage ever to be created in ancient history and there's even a colour named after it. The smooth blend of aged grapes with certain flavours to make this melancholic drink made you feel at ease. The colour was also such a calming one, one that could comfort you when no else did. Wine had different flavours which only a person with super taste buds could venture upon. Wine wasn't alcohol, it was nectar. And all of that came rushing into your brain as you came back home with Riki, Sunoo and Yuna,who were all oblivious to the current state of your very delusional brain.

Afternoon came surprisingly sooner than it had felt in the morning as you waited for Jay beneath the sycamore tree with a glass of red wine from Bordeaux, your favourite. You wore a simple lilac sundress which reached your knees with your favourite sandals from Spain. You always admired cultural art of different countries. Whether it be traditional leather puppets from India or Gothic wood carvings from Germany, your eyes always seeked out delicate pieces of fine art, usually made by families who had passed the tradition down from ancestors to ancestors. Those sandals you were wearing were a gift from your best friend Chaeryoung who also had a leather empire of her own in Spain and France. You admired her a lot, calling her your unofficial wife, and always supporting her even when she had nothing at all. After all female friendships are something that you had ways cherished your entire life, having grown up with six boys your entire life. You still had distinct memories of dealing with and period days, heart wrenching breakups, sudden thoughts about death and life and crackhead moments with Chaeryoung and your girl group which consisted of Giselle, Lia, Wonyoung, Gauel and Yunjin. You had obviously told them about your recent delusion with Jay to which Lia, Gauel and Yunjin added more to the delusion and Giselle and Wonyoung shook their heads.

Minutes turned into hours as you waited and waited for Jay to arrive. Horrible thoughts filled your head as to why Jay hadn't come yet. 'Does he hate me?' 'Did he ghost me because I'm not interesting?' 'Am I too ugly?' 'What if someone kidnapped him?' That last one felt unlikely because Jay had bodyguards much buffer than yours and he was with your family too. The heat from the warm afternoon sun sang you a lullaby as you slowly drifted off to sleep, dreams now flooding your brain.

"Y/N. Y/N wake up." You felt a gentle shake of your shoulders as you slowly opened your eyes and blinked twice to remember who and where you were. You hair was disheveled now and your dress covered with grass. Sitting beside you was a broad shouldered figure, clad in a tight blue shirt with white trousers. He had a greenish-black watch on which further accentuated his beautiful arms. Jay sat beside you and woke you up from your slumber. He was clutching a bottle of wine and a tiny pink box which had 'Minho's Bakery' written on it. You stared at him for a solid minute until you snapped back to your senses and blurted out "You look beautiful." Jay gave you that soft smile with his eyes and chuckled "You look beautiful too Y/N. I got a bottle of wine but it seems like you've already gotten one. And it's my favourite kind. Bordeaux does have good grapes. I also bought you this." He motioned towards the tiny pink box. "Sunoo told me you like this bakery a lot so I got a cupcake for you." The way he talked and the way he pronounced his words was so soothing and it made you want to sleep even more. Hearing the fact that he had gotten you a cupcake and that your favourite wine was also his favourite wine, fed your delusions even more and heart was doing gymnastics inside of your body. Slowly taking the box, you peeled open the pink stickers and opened the box to find two mint chocolate cupcakes inside. You smiled at the thought of Sunoo telling Jay all of your favourite things so that his OTP (which he is dying for) can be completed. You offered Jay one of the cupcakes but he simply shook his head. "I don't really prefer mint choco. Sunoo tried to get me into it, but I think there's room for only one mint choco maniac and it's already occupied by Sunoo. So go ahead and have both of them. I'm just going to enjoy this beautiful glass of wine." You laughed at his mint choco joke and helped yourself to the pretty little cupcake. It was moist and stuffed with chocolate inside and it slowly melted in your mouth as if it had been waiting a long time to meet your taste buds. Jay just simply drank his wine and you slightly admired him from the corner of your eye. How can this one man in just a basic blue shirt look more prettier than any other man in a basic blue shirt? "So how did the meeting with my family go?" Jay stopped his sip of wine halfway, turned to you and said in a buisness like tone "It was good. Your father signed yet another contract for five years stating that my family will be providing your family with weapons at a lower rate. Heeseung was against it but this has been going on for 16 years so not even fate could rewrite this event." "At a lower rate? That's weird. Usually dad pays a higher rate for friends and family. He considers it his own little 'gift'. You could have said something though couldn't you?" Jay gave you a sad smile and said "Well I could have. But who would listen to boring old me? I just run the money part of our company. Sunghoon does all the designing part. Businessmen like me aren't really that respected in this field of work. Even my parents rarely listen to the 'money talk' as they say in their words. All I have left at the end of the day is this glass of wine." He raised his glass slightly as the liquid inside splashed around gently. You stared for a while, yet again into his magnificent eyes, which held the moon and Venus inside of them. "Do you ever think about running away? Starting your own empire of whatever good you want to produce? It would be better than whatever we do now.", you questioned Jay. For a moment, Jay looked moved and for the first time you saw his eyes slightly falter. He composed himself again as he slowly said "I did think about it once. When I was 16. When I was young, dumb and stupid. I used to think I could become a billionaire with my sewing business.". You noticed as his ears became red as he said that so you asked "Are you quite good at sewing?" "I think I am. I used to embroider on handkerchiefs to give to the local orphanage sometimes."

I would once again like to apologise for this inconvenience. Tumblr hasn't been allowing me to post the full fic since a day cause this was supposed to be posted last night. If incase it does get better, I will probably edit this to remove the screenshots and just type the remaining part in. But this chapter will probably be divided in two parts forever. This my fate I guess. (Hehe fate)

[supershot73199]

Hello I'm adding this Hear it the newest chapter of my Dan's big Daddy. Why am I reblogging it here instead of making it it's on post? Because it's a reaction to this specifically. Here's a link and the rest will be under the cut.

Barbara was directing the bat's to the various bomb sights in Jokers latest scheme. She also had the damn clowns livestream playing on one of her monitors. Unfortunately this meant she saw as Danny, her younger sister figures boyfriend, was antagonizing the Joker.

It was only when Danny lunged forward and wrapped his legs around the bastard that she realized it was all a ploy and not him being a self sacrificial idiot. She figured she should update the others on the potential for Joker trying to set the bombs of early out of anger.

"Damn it Cass' boyfriend has the Joker in a headlock with his thighs, he's keeping him contained for now but what's yo-"

Mid-Sentence Barbara froze, as an experienced vigilante and native Gothamite there wasn't a lot that could shock her, but the visceral crack and spray of gore as the Jokers head was crushed between the thighs of one of the kindest people she had ever met was one of the few.

"Forget that just disable the bombs, Jokers not a problem any more."

Damian was the first bat to respond, likely his bomb was already disabled as he was assigned the closest when the split up.

"I knew Fenton was protective of those he loved but I was not expecting him to be capable of knocking the Joker unconscious while dangling from a chain." The soft tone tinged with respect would have been unthinkable from Damian when Barbara first met him, she was proud of how far her honorary little brother has come. But she should probably correct his misconception.

"Sorry Robin, but Danny didn't knock him out, and no Cass didn't either, when I said Jokers not a problem I meant permanently." Barbara said

"How certain are you that it's not some trick of the clown? We all know how crafty that bitch is." Jason interrupted clearly agitated.

"Not even the Joker can fake having his head crushed like a watermelon Hood. Check the group-chat I'm dropping a gif for your enjoyment. Also I'm telling Agent A to prep a feast." Barbara said even as she put action to words while turning down the volume of her com so as not to be deafened by the influx of shouting from the members of the family who were suspicious (overprotective) of Cass boyfriend.

"O we have to get him the world's best gift basket, shit Signal, Spoiler you guys want in on this? Don't even have to ask you demon brat." Jason's words might have been jesting but the way his voice choked up everyone on Com knew it was only his iron clad self control that was keeping him from crying, whether those tears were of joy at the clowns death or frustration that it wasn't B doing him in.

Either way it was best not to bring it up and allow Jason to work through his feelings on his own before she tried to talk to him about it. Suddenly a thought came to mind.

"Huh, I wonder how Harleys taking this?"

Harley Quinn knew she has done a lot of bad things in her life, she had made a lot of mistakes and while she would never change where she was now, living with her beautiful wife Pam, she would always regret her time spent infatuated with the Joker.

"Harley, I know you don't like thinking about the clown but you have to see this." Speaking of her wife, Harley went over to the television that Pam had been watching to know if the Joker tried to do anything near the two of them.

"Well gee Pam, you don't usually like me seeing what that piece of work gets up ta. What makes this so different?" Pamela had the footage paused with the newest Wayne member (yeah Harley knew the two weren't married yet but she recognized the look in their eyes, after all she saw it every day in the mirror).

Pam pressed play before walking over to the kitchen while Harley watched. She admired the kid he didn't back down or show fear and his insults were really hitting Joker where it hurt. Then the kid got his legs around the prick.

"Whoo go kid give that piece-a-shit a concussion!" She cheered to her wife's amusement, based on the chuckles she heard.

Harley saw the look on the boys face and she hoped he didn't let Joker go before the Bat got there, that disgrace to clowns would not hesitate to hurt his little girl. Whatever Harley expected it wasn't the sight of one of the subjects of her recurring nightmares being snuffed out.

*Pop* Harley jumped before looking at the source of the sound, only to see Pam pouring out two glasses of the fancy wine that Bruce had given them on their wedding.

"To the end of a pasty faced try hard, may he rot in hell." Pamela said as she handed a glass to Harley before she raised her own glass in a toast.

"And a long healthy, happy life to that crazy Fenton bastard who did what Batman never had the balls to do himself."

"Hear, Hear and may his daughter never be bothered by any Gothamite worth their salt." Harley added before taking a drink. Looking back at the screen Harley couldn't help but giggle.

"We should give Ms Prima Ballerina one of my old mallets, she'll need it to beat all his new fans off of him if the way that girl there is looking at hims any indication."

Pam laughed, causing a soft smile to spread on Harleys face.

"Maybe we should give him a thank you basket, he did the entire city a favor after all, think they make a card for when someone kills your ex? Ah who am I kidding this is Gotham I'm sure we can find one."

Gotham city held its breath when the darling of the Wayne's got kidnapped, and when the Joker was killed it was like time stood still. Not a single word was said until one voice cut through the silence.

"THATS WHAT IM TALKING 'BOUT BABY!! EAT SHIT YOU PASTY FACED MOTHERFUCKER!"

And suddenly the spell was broken laughter, cheers, crying, and shouting echoed over the city, as for the first time in years it felt like a weight was lifted from the atmosphere, for the first time since he made a name for him self, the Jokers memory no longer darkened people's mind, instead relief, joy, and pure unaltered happiness reigned supreme.

Parties sprang up in the streets, businesses closed early, and all anyone could talk about was the man who brought a smile back to Gotham.

As the days passed by an interesting trend came to social media from Gotham people were buying watermelons and painting the Jokers iconic make-up on it only to crush them between their thighs, recreating the historic video that showed the end of an era of fear.

Of course things started spiraling when infamous vigilante/crime lord The Red Hood took part in the trend,in full uniform no less, leading to other famous heros to take part of the trend.

This of course led to countless arguments about which hero was the hottest, as the internet does, though it seemed that despite some of the most beautiful heros male and female who took part Gotham city would always argue the original couldn't be beat.

Hello I am back with the next of my Batfam react to Danny killing Joker story's. This one is set in the same au as my Dawn's Big Daddy story though i haven't decided if it will be canon to that story yet. Story under the read more.

There will be a bit of a graphic description in this one so gore warning here

Cass was simultaneously pissed and terrified. Not for herself of course but for her ballet students. The Joker and his thugs took the entire class and their parents hostage and with so many kids Cass knew trying to fight could result in dead children and she left her emergency beacon in her office changing room.

When the thugs finished taking them to the warehouse where the Jokers latest scheme would take place she, the kids and any mothers were taken to a massive cage where they were locked in, while any fathers were taken and had been handcuffed to chains connected to electronic winches, including her boyfriend Danny.

Normally Cass wouldn't be worried about her boyfriend as he was a excellent fighter and had a ghost form that was of a comparable power level to heroes like Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, and of course Superman. However with the number of hostages he would not act rashly, instead waiting for an opportunity where he can act with minimal to no risk for the innocents.

But their captor was the Joker, an unhinged clown who enjoyed the pain of others and who was unpredictable enough to stump world class detectives like her family. He would not hesitate to torture or even kill one of the kids if he had the whim cross his mind and he had pretty good reflexes so it would be hard to guarantee no hostages would be in danger before they act.

Cass felt her rage and fear bleed out when she felt a small hand grab hers for comfort. Dawn was Danny's daughter, the light of his life, the single most important thing in his life, and honestly she was quickly becoming the same thing for Cass. Even though she loved Danny and he loved her they both knew that if it came down to a choice to save only one of them they would each save Dawn first. (Hypothetically at least. Cass knew they would just save both in reality because they were good enough to or would get backup that would allow them too.)

"I'm scared." Whispered the young girl. Cass quickly scooped her up in a hug before softly comforting her.

"It's OK Your Daddy is strong he won't let this clown hurt him or us."

"I know that. Daddys the strongest there is but what if one of my friends get hurt?" Cass couldn't stop the soft grin at the faith in her father that the little girl had.

"Because he's the strongest means he won't let anyone get hurt." Cass responded with conviction. Before Dawn gave a accepting nod.

"OK I believe in Daddy."

Before Cass could say anything else the Joker ordered his men out of the room as they finished handcuffing the last of the fathers. Danny was front and center and Cass couldn't help notice the look of defiance in his eyes. The Joker as soon as the last of his men had left to their guard positions turned on a camera before stepping back and speaking with his usual cheer.

"Hello Gotham, it's your favorite Clown Prince of Crime here and today I have some special guests with us today. You might recognize a few of them. Why it's none other the Bruce Wayne's only daughter and her pretty little boytoy!! They've been all over the news recently and in case you've been living under a rock recently they have been called Gothams cutest couple. So you just know I had to give them my congratulations."

As the Joker was monologing he picked up the camera and used it to focus on Danny and Cass respectively though Cass had put herself between Joker and Dawn, which gave the clown a sick pleasure, she could see it in his posture.

"Now as for our performance tonight we have a group of loving fathers and their beloved children and wives in our audience. Batsy here's what's going to happen, you and your brood are going to have to find my men hidden all around Gotham with cannisters of my Laughing Gas. When you find them my men will let me know and you will have sixty seconds to defeat my men and disable the release trigger, if you fail well..."

As the Joker trailed off he pressed a button that activated the winches pulling the men until they were all hanging off the floor without their feet touching the ground.

"I will kill one of these fathers infront of their wives and children, and don't even think about cheating because if my guys see you on this camera before their bombs been disabled they will trigger it remotely. Better hurry Batman I don't think shoulders can hold that much weight for very long!" The Joker let out a mad cackle before he was interrupted.

"So now your a gameshow host? I thought you were the clown prince of crime." Danny brave beautiful Danny taunted the Joker who stopped and walked closer.

"Well I'm a Clown of many talents and in my eternal quest to bring more smiles to Gotham I have to branch out from typical clown behavior." Cass could see the irritation in the Jokers body language, he hates being questioned after all.

"Still couldn't you have picked a different suit? You always wear the same thing. Variety is the spice of life after all." Danny continued to antagonize Joker.

The Joker stepped closer to Danny still not quite close enough for Danny's plan though.

"As if your one to talk. Look at you!" Cass wasn't sure what Joker meant by that as Danny was dressed in form fitting exercise clothes meant for dancing, as they had been about to have a class when the Joker showed up. Maybe he's jealous of Danny's muscles?

"I was kidnapped with no warning from a dance class, you had the benefit of planning this and having time to prepare. Admit it you just got lazy and didn't want to put in the effort to look good for your scheme." Danny once again acted to antagonize the clown. Who finally stepped right up to where Danny was hanging while ranting at him.

"How dare you claim I didn't put in the effort! My look is iconic and if you can't see greatness maybe I should use your daughter as an exam-urgk." The Joker was cut off and Danny swung his legs up to wrap them around the Jokers neck. Unfortunately the Jokers reflexes kicked in causing him to start ducking leaving Danny to have his thighs around the Jokers head rather than his neck. Thankfully the sudden jerk from Danny hitting the Joker caused him to drop the gun he had been pulling out of his coat.

Cass watched as the two struggled in a stalemate, Danny couldn't shift his legs enough to get them around the Jokers neck to choke him into unconsciousness and the Joker was unable to get free from Danny's vice like leg lock. Cass realized that unless her family showed up immediately then the Joker would eventually slip free and go after Dawn.

As she realized what had to happen Cass noticed as Danny's body language showed he came to the same conclusion. The couple shared a look of understanding. Cass would never have considered this before and if there was any other way she wouldn't be considering it now. But even with his powers there isn't really another solution as the Joker holds a grudge.

"Turn around class face away, even you Dawn." Cass said quickly acting to make sure the children didn't see what came next, the mothers and older students quickly following her lead.

"I'm scared momma." Cass started quickly bending down to hug Dawn again. Cass didn't think she realized what she actually said and in a way it made it more special to her, which filled her heart with love and resolve.

As soon as all the younger students were facing the wall Cass nodded to Danny who immediately shifted his legs one more time before Cass saw his muscles clench. There was a muffled sound where the Jokers mouth was pressed against Danny's thigh, that Cass couldn't tell if it was a laugh or scream. She watched as he clawed at Danny desperately trying to get loose until with a sickening crack and squelch he went limp, as his head was crushed between Danny's thighs like that watermelon Cass had crushed on a dare from Steph.

She looked on with disgust as pieces of the Jokers brain and skull stuck to the man she loved. The spray from the crush had covered Danny and she could see him struggling to not throw up.

"That might have been the hottest thing I've ever seen." Cass head snapped to the teenage girl who said that. Said girl quickly grew a massive blush.

"What? We were all thinking it. I wonder how long until someone makes a gif online from that livestream."

Cass blinked in bafflement as the other girls agreed even if they felt it shouldn't be said out lound to the girl before remembering that this was being broadcast live. Which meant all of Gotham saw what just happened.

It was only a little while later when her family finally showed up that she realized that Barbara and Jason would probably be two of the people making it into a gif and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her. At least she got confirmation that the child she loved as her own daughter felt the same way about her.