#hopefully that last one. isn’t too complicated? hopefully.

[theminecraftbee]

the fake fic ask game

🐝 send me a fake fic title, and I’ll make up a summary for it!

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🦮 send me a summary I already did for one of the above two, and I’ll try to write a snippet for that summary!

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (13) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of injury, trauma; family drama; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; they're still idiots;  explicit sexual content (making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, mutual masturbation, protected sex)  (18+)

Chapter Word count: 29k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: It's here! This is a long one so I hope you enjoy and savour it all. We're close to the end! So thank you so much for all the support and love for this story 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

You take up Yoongi’s offer of a listening ear on Saturday, the day after your last day at the company. You spent last night wallowing in sadness over not being able to see Jungkook during your farewell dinner and in regret for not telling him what you wanted to say - that you were thankful, that you wished the Arts Center would be everything he imagined it would be, and that hopefully, you’ll see him again. 

Maybe if he showed up, you would’ve said more - that you’re terrified of everything he makes you feel, that you’re too burdened by your past, and that you want him even if you don’t know if you’re ready to be with him.

You spent much of today convincing yourself that it was better that you didn’t see him, even if you kept imagining his shy smile and the feel of his lips against yours, and then you got frustrated all over again. 

With all that’s going on in your head, you figured that spending dinner on your own today would make you feel more sorry for yourself, so you’re currently seated in front of Yoongi with your wonton soup barely touched while he’s just slurped the remaining noodles of his. 

“Your soup’s getting cold,” he nudges your foot as you mindlessly gaze at your bowl. “It’s not gonna eat itself.”

“Apparently, I don’t eat much when I’m sad,” you sigh, turning to him. 

“Well, that sucks. It’s really good soup,” he hums. 

Yoongi looks at you patiently just as he has for the past half hour. You told him you wanted to eat out, and he agreed immediately, even offering to drive you home after. But you haven’t said much since you arrived at the restaurant and he hasn’t forced you to say anything either.

“I’m sorry for not being a fun dinner partner tonight,” you say. 

“It’s okay. When I told you the other week to call me if you wanted to talk, I didn’t expect you to actually talk,” he chuckles. “I know sometimes you just need someone to be with. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you reply. “I can't even figure myself out.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it,” he counters. “Human beings are complex, yes. But feelings of desire aren’t. They’re quite straightforward. You want something and that should tell you everything. It’s pride and fear that complicate things. If you set those aside, then you’ll be able to figure out what you really feel.”

“What if they contradict each other?”

“The push and pull isn’t always equal though. One overpowers the other in some way. So you’re either more happy about leaving or more sad about it. And then ask yourself why.”

“I’m sad about leaving Jungkook,” you admit. “I don’t regret my decision but it doesn’t make me happy right now.”

“And why doesn’t it make you happy?”

“Because it hurt him. And then it hurt me.”

“Why did it hurt the both of you?”

“I don’t know about him,” you pout.

“Then what about you? Why did it hurt you?”

“Because he kept his distance - he replaced me, shut me out. And then he didn’t show up to my farewell dinner.”

“So what’s painful about that?” Yoongi pushes, wanting to help you make sense of things.

“Because I want him close to me,” you say quietly, letting the words sink in. You’ve always known this, but saying it to someone else somehow makes it feel more real this time. “I want him… with me.”

“Told you it was simple,” Yoongi shrugs.

“But it isn’t,” you argue.

Yoongi is a straightforward man, and you suppose the only way for him to understand is for you to tell him the truth, so that’s what you do. 

You tell him about your ties to the Jeon family, why you stayed in the company for as long as you did, all the attempts at leaving, and the plan of doing so after the Arts Center opening. You share about your life in the process - your childhood of staying at the library and your coping mechanisms, your life in Busan, going back to Daegu then leaving for Seoul, working to repay a debt, and then losing yourself because of it. You talk about the closeness you developed with Jungkook, all the times that he was there for you, the kiss and the aftermath, why you pushed him away and why you also feel bad about how he reacted. You say a bit about the things that scare you - getting hurt being one of them - and why staying for Jungkook would be difficult, and why leaving him would be the same. 

Yoongi looks at you earnestly. He’s always known about you being guarded, keeping parts of yourself that you don’t really share with others. This is the farthest you’ve let him into your world, and he sees so much of Jungkook in you. There’s that fear of not being wanted but also of being wanted; you’re scared of not being enough to be loved but also of not loving the other person enough. You’re unable to express how you feel because you don’t know if the person will respond with the same vulnerability and honesty, and you don’t like baring yourself with no one there to tell you it’s alright.  

All of it feels like how his friend is. He’s seen it since the moment Jungkook stepped foot into the office a year ago; he’s seen it everytime Jungkook disengages from you or gets mad at you; he’s seen it even when you’ve started to become comfortable with each other, and Yoongi has seen it these past weeks of Jungkook dealing with your departure, especially recently. 

“So after all that, you mean to tell me that you didn’t actually tell him how you feel?” Yoongi points out. “That he just overheard you say that you like him but you didn’t actually tell him? Not your feelings nor your fears, not your contradicting emotions, nor the fact that you want to be with him? Because I’m hearing you, ___. And all I hear is that you’ve found someone you’re willing to give your heart to but you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Even after he’s told you how he feels, because you don’t think that he would be open and honest enough to you to mean them.”

You let out a breath and pout, Yoongi’s words making it seem simpler than it actually is. In hindsight, maybe it is, because after everything that you shared, the first thing he points out is how, despite the obvious reciprocated feelings, you’re the one who’s afraid to give in.

“You talked about how Jungkook made you feel braver during the times you were scared and alone and hurt,” Yoongi says, seething at your experiences that made you look towards Jungkook for strength. “Why can’t you be brave enough for him? I mean, I get it that you want to leave the company, no one questions why you would. He did but he’s accepted it because he understands, but why do you have to let him go? Is it just because of the ties to his family? Or is it because you’re afraid of what he feels for you that isn’t tied to you being his assistant?”

His last question causes your face to fall, and Yoongi knows he’s hit a nerve.

“You’ve been living your life trying to prove that you’re more than your past, that you’re capable and that you deserve all that you have now,” he adds. “This job was your life. You told me before that you don’t know if you’d like yourself outside of it, and maybe you’re thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t, either.”

“I… don’t think I’m that great, Yoongi,” you confess. “I mean, just think about what the guys I dated said about me.”

“Those don’t count because they’re absolute jerks.”

“Even then, I… I’m terrible at a lot of things. I pull away, I get scared, I… I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. I don’t know if I want to be. I don’t know if I can, or what that even means,” you stammer. “For a second there, I let my guard down for Jungkook and—”

“He did the same and that terrifies you,” Yoongi finishes. “Being wanted back terrifies you. It’s why you feel confused and conflicted, ___. You have the chance to have something you’ve been yearning for and—”

“I’m scared I’d lose it,” you interject. “And I won’t if I don’t have it. I’m scared of heartbreak, Yoongi. I gave in when it came to Jungkook but I saw the possibilities with him and heartbreak was one of them. This is why I don’t give in to anything. I mean, it’s why I didn’t give in to you. I… I was scared we’d hurt each other and that I’d lose you and… I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now.”

“It’s good that you are,” he assures you. “Because do you see the difference? You didn’t give in to me but you did to him. You never know if the person is worth the pain until it’s there but you at least know that he’s worth a try. I wasn’t, and I don’t take offense, but that’s the point. He’s the guy you try for, ___. He’s the one you climb out your walls for. So don’t cower inside. Be brave for him this time.”

It’s a while before you’re able to say anything. The background chatter in the noodle house fades away in your mind as you take in Yoongi’s words. And he’s not wrong. 

You never told Jungkook what you felt; you didn’t know how to. You kissed him to express that, but you pushed him away just as quickly, but you never got to say anything else, especially after. And now you’re left to wonder - what was the fear really about? And what was the need to let go of him because of it?

You’re scared of a lot of things; you’re scared of every single thing you want to have. You learned some time ago that Jungkook was the same, but you think that you’re probably more terrified than he is. 

You’re a walking contradiction, too - you want to cut ties with him because it reminds you of a past you don’t want to be defined by, but in doing so, you’re cutting yourself off as what you started as - his assistant, and you’re scared to be anything else but that. You were good at it - you were competent, capable; you managed his life and the team well. But being with him means you have to be someone else for him - his partner, his companion, his lover, and you don’t know how to be those things for him. You don’t know if you’d like yourself, and so you don’t know if he’d like you if you tried. And that scares you.

But like Yoongi said, you thought Jungkook was at least worth it; you wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t, even if you thought it was a moment of weakness. You just have to follow through with that belief this time, and be brave enough to not just want him because you do; you have to be brave enough to let him want you back. You have to be brave enough to believe that he’ll stay. 

“How… how do I do that? How do you become brave for someone?” You finally ask. 

Yoongi relaxes in his seat, his eyes the most comforting they’ve ever been. 

“You just tell them how you feel,” he says. “You face it head on because you know that there’s something more important than a possible heartbreak, and that’s losing on the possibility of happiness with them.”

You let out a breath. You know Yoongi’s right. You’d said that you want to know how it’s like to be truly happy with Jungkook, and it’s this paralyzing fear and stubbornness that’s keeping you from finding out. But you suppose that when you’ve gotten used to keeping a lot of things in, just telling someone how you feel isn’t that easy.

“It’s hard for you, I know,” he continues, reading your mind. “But how would you learn what your heart is capable of if you don’t follow it?”

“Then you’ll just risk it getting broken,” you argue.

“You do,” he hums. “Hearts break. But it’s not the only thing they do.”

The words are simple, just as the thought is. You almost feel embarrassed that Yoongi has to remind you of these things, about the inevitability of pain and loss and how it should be worth it in the end. But the fear comes from somewhere, from a heart that’s close to your own that shattered so many times, you wondered at one point if it was still capable of loving. 

“I told you that I never met my dad, right?” You share, willing to bare a bit more of yourself to him. “He left before I was born because he wasn’t ready. But mom… Mom loved him deeply. I found a photo of them under her pillow one time and I asked her about it, and she had me lay my head on her lap while she told me about him. I was around 6 years old and probably didn’t understand much but I felt her tears drop on my cheek, and then everyday for weeks, I’d hear her cry, all alone in her room. And somehow, she just cried harder every time I hugged her.”

You remember those days. You learned what it felt like to have your heart broken at that age, and it was because of seeing your mom try to smile through glassy eyes; it was hearing her tell you that she loved you, even if the other half of you was the reason why she was hurting in the first place.

“Eventually a man came along and he made her laugh until he stopped,” you continue. “Until all he could do was hurt her. And that… that felt worse. She’d just learned to share herself again but then he just broke her. And I… I felt that, too. I felt it every time she hugged me, kissed me, covered my ears to drown out his yelling… I felt it every time I had my head on her lap so I wouldn’t see her break down.”

Your eyes wander into the streets outside, recalling those difficult years when your mother protected you, even as she was in pain herself.

“They say that a parent feels the pain their child is feeling,” you say. “I guess it’s true for children, too. I felt her pain, I felt her heart break. Her heart was my heart. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been scared for it to happen to me, knowing how much it hurts. It took years before she could recover. That was hard, too.”

“How long did it take her to give Min-woo a chance?”

“Years,” you shake your head. “She was so cautious. But he stuck around, and she realized he was worth it all. And she gained two other daughters who adore her in the process.”

“Her heart was your heart,” Yoongi repeats your words. “And all she did was love. That means your heart is capable of just as much. It’s just as strong, too.”

You’ve never thought about it that way. You've always believed that the one thing you took from your mother was her grace. Perhaps if you tried, you’d learn that you took her strength, too. Maybe her unyielding ability to care. Perhaps it’s her faith in what she was capable of no matter how broken she may be. 

“I… I needed this,” you tell Yoongi, your eyes misty at his words. “It’s been hard understanding myself lately. And you, you just know me. You know what to say all the time.”

“It’s because I risked something, too, when I told you how I felt about you all those years ago,” he replies, the reminder of his unrequited feelings no longer awkward for either of you. “And at the end of it, I learned how I could care for you, and that I could care for you much better as a friend.”

“And well, you’ve been an amazing one to me, especially this past year.”

“Good, so for my sake, especially since you and Jungkook give me so much headache,” Yoongi laughs, “remember everything I said, okay? Your heart is capable of so much. So please give it a try and follow it. I doubt it will be broken this time around.”

You spend the entirety of Sunday at home, cleaning up the place and tending to your growing collection of plants. It was a cool enough day for you to walk up the neighborhood to buy some things from the store, and as Yoongi’s words from the night before ring in your head, you find yourself hurting more at the absence of Jungkook in your life. 

There’s a new recipe for fried rice that you saw online, and he was your first thought because you think he’d like it. You read an article about Lee Jaemin in the morning where she mentioned the Arts Center, and you wanted to share it with him and gush over her words. His favorite Japanese chef has opened a new restaurant in Insadong and you wonder if he’s already tried it. The playground at the park is closed because they’re doing repairs after you told the council about how rusted the swings have become at Jungkook’s suggestion. 

They’re little things, really, and you realize even more just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him, and how much of himself he’s shared as well. Whatever lines that were drawn up due to your respective positions were crossed long ago, even before that kiss. It started when you both started to care for each other, and when you both started to wish for the other’s happiness and healing. On your end, you’d hoped you’d be a part of that and that he’d be a part of yours. You don’t think that has changed though.

There are still many things you want to share with him, you realize again, especially on that Monday afternoon when you find yourself at Rkive Publishing for your contract signing that has you looking at Namjoon in question. 

“Are… are you sure?“ you ask him, as you read through the document. 

He’d sent a version of this for your review a few days ago and you’d given your verbal confirmation. You expected to come today to just sign the contract, but he asked you to review it again since he made a few changes. The salary is one of them. 

“Are you asking me if I’m sure of offering you a higher compensation package?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. 

“Y-yes?” You say. “I mean, not that I don’t prefer it but… why?” 

You knew that working for a smaller organization, and for a publishing company at that, despite having a higher position and more responsibilities meant that your pay wouldn’t be significantly different from what you were getting at the Jeon Corporation. You’d accepted that, and it was something you’d talked about with Namjoon. But still, this little bit of increase is something you hadn’t expected.

“We’ll, let���s just say that we’ve had many applicants in the past who oversold themselves. You did the opposite,” he responds. “You impressed me and the panel enough with your resume and interview and we thought you were a good fit but that recommendation letter from your company’s President showed us just how qualified you were, and that there’s so much potential there. I was also able to speak with your most recent boss.”

“VP Jeon?”

“Yes, I was on a call with him last Friday. He elaborated on the strengths you’d mentioned and that Mr. Jung had noted,” Namjoon responds. “They’re top executives of a well-known company who have worked closely with you, who saw your growth, and can attest to your potential. Given all those qualities, we thought it was just fair that we increase your compensation. We’ve learned it’s important to trust and be committed to our staff, and this is how we show that.”

“This… this is deeply appreciated,” you manage to say, not realizing just how valuable the references were. You check to see that your responsibilities didn’t change much, so you know that this is really them, believing in your worth.

“We’re looking to expand in the next few years and are working towards establishing our position in the industry,” he adds. “We don’t just need competent individuals - we need leaders, we need people of good character who can embody all the things that we stand for. We’re trying to build something here and someone like you would be a wonderful asset. You can help us grow, ___. And I, well,” he continues, shyly smiling. “I just really wanted to make sure that we got a good start. Your role is critical. It’s also one of the toughest ones out there and I wanna show you that we want you here. I mean, I was sure a lot of companies were trying to get you and we’d have to compete for you.”

“I was already convinced early on, Namjoon,” you assure him. “To be honest, meeting you at the bookstore that day felt like some sign from the universe that it was time for me to carve my own path. I guess I didn’t just need a new environment, I needed a blank slate, too, where I could start over and feel like I was really doing this for myself, that I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else, not even to me.”

“Glad I took a chance on talking to you, then, even if I sort of freaked you out,” he chuckles. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It was fine,” you laugh. “In hindsight, I’m also glad you did. I told you, it was a moment that stuck with me. It’s what pushed me to learn about what you’re all doing here, to learn about you. I… I do well when I’m surrounded by good people, by those who believe in their work, and those who believe in others. I know it won’t be easy but I already know I’ll thrive here. So thank you for giving me this chance, too.”

You and Namjoon talk some more and then lock in a date for your first day. You agree to start in three weeks - that gives you enough time to properly rest and mentally prepare yourself for this new phase. You’ll still be in a fast-paced and high-stress environment, but you’ll control your time and directly manage a team. Everything’s going to be new, and you want to be ready when it all happens, which is also why you’ll be doing your onboarding a few days before. 

“I wanted to give this to you,” he says, handing you a book as he walks you out the door. “I always give one to new staff as a form of welcome because books are our heart and soul, you know?”

“This is lovely, Namjoon,” you smile at him. “This will definitely be my companion for the next few weeks.”

“Good. It’s always meaningful to have something tangible like this,” he smiles back. 

There’s warmth in the way he does it, as if every time he talks about books, it elicits special memories. You think being around someone like that will be good for you, as you try to hold onto good memories yourself despite the sadness you still feel.

“I hope you like it,” he says before bidding you goodbye. 

You walk through the neighborhood and picture yourself going through this route everyday. It’s definitely nothing like the busy streets that you’re used to. There are more trees and quaint cafes and boutique stores here, and even just this change is already making you feel lighter; you can imagine getting over your stress with surroundings like this. You suppose that’s how Namjoon remains as calm and hopeful as he is despite his responsibilities - there’s so much energy you get just being outdoors, and it’s something you decide you’ll do today. 

You have all the time in the world now, so you grab coffee then head to a park to enjoy the early summer cool air. 

The book that Namjoon gave you is a novel published five years ago about a woman who quit her job in search of herself. You don’t think it’s a coincidence, as in such a short time, you've come to know him as a thoughtful man who’s very assuring, and you suppose this is his way of telling you that everything will be okay as you take on this new journey alongside him. The bright color palette of the design seems to reflect the hopeful subject of the book, and right as you’re about to start reading, the sound of children laughing catches your attention.

There’s a playground nearby, and your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. There’s an image of him looking happy and safe in a place that made him feel those things that you keep in your heart. You don’t know how he looks like as a child but you can somehow imagine a little boy riding the swing and coming down the slide with the softest smile and thinking that he can do and be anything he wants, that he feels capable enough for it, and that he’s able to share that joy with whoever who’s with him.

You think about earlier when Namjoon was talking about your capabilities and how you were able to see yourself the way Jungkook and Hoseok see you as a professional. You think about how it felt being supported that way, how their trust and confidence in you made you trust and be confident in yourself, too. There’s this pride you feel at being able to make that much of an impression on your new boss early on and there’s no stress, there’s no pressure. 

Sure, you want to show that all those aren’t empty words, but there’s no urge to prove yourself that you earned your spot unlike how you’ve been these past nine years. There’s just this desire to live - work is a part of it but so is reading stories, meeting people and learning about them, walking through quiet streets and appreciating the sunlight peeking through the trees. There’s this yearning to experience the day and not just survive it. 

You look at the book in your hands and know that someday, you’ll be holding one that you had a hand in creating. And it would be something that you poured your heart and soul into, one that you experienced in its entirety, and it would make you so happy knowing that you could touch it, that you can hear it, that you can see the story come to life in your mind.

You trace your fingers down the front cover and realize that this beautiful thing is tangible. And then you realize another thing - happiness is tangible, too. You’d felt it, you’d heard it. You’d seen it smile at you. You’d felt its lips against yours, too, but then you pulled away and became too afraid to take it back. Happiness was so close - it breathed you in, it held you close; it wanted you, and you were too scared to let it stay.

You spent so many years chasing it. You’d found it in your friends and your new family, but there was always something more that you wanted, one that you couldn’t find. Until him. And you’re slowly learning just how painful it is to let it slip away.

Jungkook stays in your mind for the rest of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to share about your day. 

You want to tell him that you felt a little shy when Namjoon was praising you but that you felt proud of yourself. And that you wanted to thank him. 

You want to tell Jungkook that your new work environment is quite charming, that the surrounding areas are inspiring, and that you might just start spending time outdoors from now on. And that you wish you get to explore it with him. 

You want to tell him that you’re excited to start your new job and that you’ll maybe start reading books because you’ll have a hand in creating the finished products. And that you want to share that with him, maybe make him read it, too.

You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have doubted what he felt, that you should've stood by your feelings regardless and fought for them. You want to tell him that you don’t regret quitting, but that you regret losing him in the process. That no matter how hard you try, he’s still the one you look for, the one you want to talk about your day with, the one you want to share your dream and hopes to. 

Jungkook has made you feel free in a way that you hadn’t before - an irony, considering that working for his family made you feel constricted, burdened, stagnant. But there are so many possibilities with him, so many reasons - to smile, to be brave, to hope, to yearn for more, to believe that you deserve good things that you can touch. And you want to know what those are like; you don’t want to lose out on that chance and lose him completely. 

Perhaps all you had to do was free your heart so it could feel what it’s supposed to. Like what Yoongi said, maybe you just had to follow it to know what it could do. 

It’s why on Thursday of that week, you find yourself inside his office with an envelope in hand, as you hope that actually freeing your heart and following it isn’t too late. 

You were scheduled to come today so you could get your final pay and sign some documents with HR. You arrived mid-morning and got to those right away. It didn’t take long, which is why you were able to pass by Hoseok’s office to update him about your new job and thank him for the recommendation. You headed to the support team’s office after, and they were quick to make lunch plans with you. Jungkook’s at the Arts Center, they said, so they can take their break in half an hour, but they can’t be out long. There are lots of things they have to do with the opening happening on Friday of the next week.

Lucas told you that he’d found some of your supplies that you’d left and they’re in a drawer in his desk, and you told him that you could get them yourself. They were easy to find, and you took the time to leave little notes for him in between folders and files; you figured that finding them on days when he doesn’t expect them could give him encouragement somehow. 

Jungkook’s door was slightly opened, and you took the chance to enter and take in a piece of him. The last time you were here, it felt like there was so much you still couldn’t say, there were feelings you were too afraid to face and words you weren’t sure he wanted to hear. Being back here, you feel a lot braver, and you know it matters that now, you’re trying to be brave for him. 

You stand in front of his desk, almost cradling the letter you’d written last night. You’ve spent the past days outdoors, finding cafes and quaint spots in areas that you’ve never explored before. You’ve been reading the book, too, and the more time you spent by yourself - not being tired, not being stressed, not feeling lost or burdened - the more you realized just how much you’ve been missing and yearning for things. And that you deserved whatever it was you wanted, and that included Jungkook. 

The life you’d started to live without him convinced you that the intimacy and connection you’ve been desiring is something you can find with him. You want to know what that’s like; you want to know how happy you could be with him, and you’ll only know it if you express it to him this time. You owe it to him to do that; you’re scared that any more time apart will push both of you farther away, too far to pull the other back because the anchor wasn’t set securely in the first place. You don’t want him to be your what if; you don’t want him to be your biggest regret.

Telling him how you felt was another thing, though, and writing a letter took you longer than expected. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you could only hope he’ll see your sincerity through it, and that he’ll still want you, even if it took you quite a while to accept what he felt, too.

His desk isn’t as organized as it usually is, but you place the envelope on top of a folder of blueprints that you know he’s going to get to soon. You know how he is - he always likes his things in their proper place. The center is the urgent pile so you know he’s gonna find this once he gets back and that maybe, he’ll go to you right after, hopefully to tell you that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, and that like he’d asked before, you’ll figure things out together. 

There’s fear just as there’s excitement. You hope at the end of all this, you’ll find yourself in his arms - everything forgiven, with nothing but more good memories you’ll create. 

You head out to lunch with the team shortly after and hold off on asking how Jungkook’s doing or about the changes in the Arts Center. Everyone looks tired enough as it is and you don’t want them thinking about work during their break, so you settle on talking about your new job and how excited you are. They’ll be supporting the books, they say; you can’t help but think again about how much you want to share them with Jungkook, too. 

You spend the rest of the day at home, waiting for that phone call from him or perhaps, his knock on your door. You’re unsure if he’ll come today; you don’t want to think that he wouldn’t, even if he has reasons not to want to see you anymore after what you’ve done. 

But the hope lives, as you convince yourself in the evening that maybe he got back to the office late and hadn’t seen your letter. 

You do the same thing the next day - you stay at home, hesitant to leave in case he comes, and then tell yourself that there’s a reason why he hasn’t shown up at your door yet. 

You do it again the day after, then the next, and then again.

The hope remained but it has now withered away. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he still hasn’t come.

Jungkook sinks in the seat of his desk, breathing heavily as he tries to catch a break. It’s not much, but it’s the only moment he has of complete silence where he forces himself to not do or think about anything. He gives himself only ten minutes each day for this, other than when he’s sleeping. He does it only between meetings or calls or visits to the Arts Center, which he fits all in one day. 

It’s only 2PM on Thursday but it might as well be late on a Friday evening. He’s exhausted, as if he hasn’t rested for days, as if he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and as if he hasn’t stopped working. And all of those are true. 

Ever since he’d decided on making changes in the Arts Center, he’s been going nonstop. From drawing up the design, purchasing materials, to constructing the room, Jungkook has been doing it all, on top of managing the rest of the work being done. He’s employed the help of Yoongi and a project manager to help him, but Jungkook has been the one making all the decisions, and that definitely didn’t go well with his father. 

He caught the ire of the old man right away, with the CEO scolding him for doing this weeks before the opening and for going over budget, which is why Jungkook stays in the Arts Center most of the day, going in the afternoon and then staying or returning at night, doing the manual labor himself so he doesn’t have to pay more for the workers. He paints the walls as well as some of the furniture, and that’s taken so much of him these past weeks, especially his time, time that he’d taken away from seeing you. 

He wasn’t really present during your last days at the company. He approved all your leaves and he was sincere about having you take them, but during the days when you were in the office, he was barely there. He was either physically at the Center or his mind was. 

Other times, he was performing his executive functions, with Hoseok reminding him of his Vice President duties. Jungkook had neglected some of them, as evidenced by his messy desk that’s giving him a headache. He’s always been organized with his things but not recently, not when all he’s been doing is working himself to the bone like what he’s used to. But this has more at stake for him; this isn’t just some structure or room he’s building. It’s so much more.

One other thing he’s been doing is regretting that he wasn’t there during your last day to bid you goodbye and to see you for the last time, it seemed like. He wished you well and thanked you, even if there was more he wanted to say. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he wouldn’t have handled lingering, too, if that would give you a chance to say something more to him that would make him express what he’s really feeling, and he’s scared that would push you further away. 

He was never good at that. The one time he told you what he wanted and felt, things didn’t go right - the timing was off, you doubted his sincerity, and there was so much you kept hidden from him. He hasn’t known what to do nor say since then, which is why he’s doing what he’s doing for you. It’s more than the words he doesn’t know how to say; it’s something he won’t regret as it expresses everything that’s been in his heart, and it’s lasting, it’s constant, it’s comforting; it’s everything he wants to be for you. 

But then again, all this work kept him from seeing you for the last time, and it’s a reminder again of how he’s been living his life - diverting his attention to other things instead of facing what’s important. 

There’s not much he can do now, though. Everything has been completed. All the certifications have been secured, all the invitations are out, the promotion for the opening is all over social media, and the support team is on top of everything that’ll take place tomorrow. With the end of it just within reach, he’s able to take a breath, and it’s why he’s able to extend his short break to 15 minutes. 

The Arts Center is being cleaned and security checked, so he has no choice but to stay away from it until it opens tomorrow. So right now, he has the time to work on his other responsibilities, such as draft plans for a project that Hoseok’s working on that he’d asked Jungkook to review. 

“I had Lucas leave the blueprints on your desk last week,” the older man says over the phone after being asked if the files are still with him. “You should see it right away. It was urgent so I told him to put it at the center.”

“Well, that’s one of many that’s apparently urgent,” Jungkook sighs as he sees the pile of documents in front of him. It seems like he’s neglected a lot of other things this past week. “When did you say you left them?”

“Thursday morning,” Hoseok responds. “You would’ve seen them immediately.”

“I would’ve… except I haven’t really been at my desk in days.”

Which is the truth. Jungkook has been sitting on his desk only to go through his emails and then signing documents that Lucas gives him before heading to meetings and the Arts Center. It’s been his schedule this entire week, which is why he hadn’t seen the designs that Hoseok’s talking about. And as Jungkook goes through the pile - of memos for checking, of studies from Yoongi - he sees something else that makes his heart drop.

The last time he found an envelope on his desk with your handwriting on it, his world took a complete turn. He remembers reading that resignation letter and thinking that he’d really screwed things up, that life wasn’t going to be the same without you next to him everyday, and that there was no way he could have you again after how things turned out. 

He doesn’t know what to expect with this, not when he hasn’t seen you in days, and not when he doesn’t know how you’re doing right now.

“Kook?” Hoseok says on the other end after the prolonged silence. “Are you still there?”

“Did ___ come to the office this week?” 

“She was here last Thursday. She signed some HR stuff and dropped by my room. Why?”

“She… she left a letter on my desk.”

“Oh… What does it say?”

“I… I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what’s inside,” Jungkook says, his hands trembling as he places it back down.

“It could be many things but you won’t know unless you read it,” Hoseok responds. “Both of you have been keeping your feelings to each other from each other, Kook. This… this might be something that changes that.”

“Did… did she say anything to you when she visited?”

“Just about her job. She seems content and excited. Whatever else she feels, I’m pretty sure it’s in there. So read it, and don’t worry about the designs. Those can wait.”

Jungkook drops the call, noting that he’ll thank his cousin later on. This letter is the most important thing right now, even if he’s nervous about what’s written on it. 

He finally opens the envelope and the first thing he sees are pictures - one of an empty playground, and another one of you on the swing, smiling. It’s been weeks without your smile, and remembering how much comfort it’s given him is what makes him calm down; it’s what makes him have the courage to read through the letter.

Jungkook,

I took the photo of the playground during my birthday trip using the gift you got me. We passed by a park on the way to one of the towns and we stayed there for a while. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I felt a kind of comfort I’ve never felt before, and it made me think of how I feel when I’m around you. 

I was thinking of you, too, when Soomin took my photo. I seem to do that a lot, I’ve learned. I think of you and smile, and there’s this unfamiliar feeling of joy. There’s this yearning to feel it everyday, and that scares me. We kissed and the desire for you scared me even more. So did the thought that I can’t be what you need me to be despite what we feel, and that there's a possibility I’d get hurt along the way. 

But I learned that what scares me the most is losing you.

I don’t regret leaving, but I regret how I did it, and I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I got to tell you what I really felt, and I wish I realized much sooner that the happiness I’ve been looking for is one I can find with you. 

I’m scared of many things, Jungkook, but you make me braver. This is me being brave for you. Please come and find me. I hope it’s not too late. 

XX

Jungkook reads the letter one more time. It’s nothing like he imagined but everything he hoped. You’ve wanted him all this time; you still want him after everything. He senses the sadness and the hope in your words, and they’re things he feels, too. 

You want him to find you. And just like you, he hopes it’s not too late. 

He rushes out of his room and instructs Lucas to cancel all his meetings for the day. Jungkook heads to the support team’s office to tell Mr. Ri that there’s somewhere important they need to go. 

“Where to?” The older man asks once they get inside the car.

“___’s place,” Jungkook pants. “Get there as fast as you can.”

Mr. Ri doesn’t ask any more questions. He drives off and merely glances at the rear view mirror. 

“We’ll get to her,” he says. “One way or another, we’ll get to her.”

Jungkook could only hope, but when he gets to your apartment and finds it empty, that hope slowly fades. He’d call you but that’s not how he wants to fix things, he thinks. That’s not how he wants to ask you to be with him. He probably won’t even be able to say what he really means. So he tries one more, knocking and calling out your name, but no one comes.

“She’s not here,” someone calls out. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jungkook turns around and finds your elderly neighbor, a woman he’d seen that one day he visited you after you got injured. You’ve mentioned her a few times and how she sends over food on some nights and invites you for tea on some weekends. She looks kind and warm, and definitely curious.

“She… she asked me to find her,” he says dejectedly. “But I didn’t know she wanted me to. I didn’t see her letter right away and now… now it’s too late.”

“You’re the man she was waiting for,” she hums, walking closer. “She’s right, you’re very handsome.”

“She… she talked about me?”

“A few times. I asked about how she got home when she hurt her ankle and she said you helped her,” the woman smiles. “I don’t see anybody visit her other than her friends. And I’ve known her for years; I haven’t seen any other man she’s allowed in her home in all that time, nor has she talked about one. I knew then you meant a lot to her. But she said things were too complicated and that always held her back.”

“That always held me back, too,” he responds. He’d smile at the thought that you’ve talked about him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. There’s a reason why you stopped waiting. “Has she been well?”

“She has. She seems to have more life in her now. I always felt like her old job tired her out so much,” she says. “She’s excited to start fresh, and I’m proud of her. Oftentimes we stay in one place for too long and we just lose ourselves in it, you know? We lose sight of the things that make us happy and it was really brave of her to leave behind everything she’s known.”

“It was. I know that now,” Jungkook sighs. “Did she say if she found it? What makes her happy?”

“She did. She said she found you.”

The words hit him, as he knows it’s the same for him. You may have found each other in the place you’ve both been in for so long, but it’s losing each other that perhaps made you both realize what it was you couldn’t live without. Letting each other go showed what happiness actually looked like, and that neither of you wanted to be without it anymore.

“I found her too late, I think.”

“That’s for her to decide, though. You won’t know unless you look for her,” she hints. 

“When did she leave?”

“Tuesday afternoon. That was just two days ago. I doubt she’s changed her mind,” she smiles again. “Well, I’d love to stay here and chat but I have some grandchildren to pick up. And I believe you have someone to find.”

“I think I do,” he responds, the nervousness evident in his voice. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” she hums. “Get to her, okay? She deserves someone who won’t give up on her.”

You don’t, Jungkook agrees, as he nods in goodbye and heads back to the car. That’s not something he will do this time. All he’s done was let his fears and worries speak for him these past months and he doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when there’s more of you that he’ll lose. 

“She’s not home,” Jungkook responds to Mr. Ri’s questioning look. “I… I didn’t get to her in time.”

“Where to, then?”

Jungkook breaks as he imagines you in your apartment, waiting for him, wondering when he’d call or knock on your door. He can’t imagine you still doing that after he made you wait, but the one thing he’ll do this time is go to where you are and tell you everything he needs to. 

After the heartbreak he caused, he assumes you’d go to either your family or your friends. He remembers the way you’d talked about your mom in the past, and how her comfort was always the one you sought.

“Do you mind driving to Daegu?” Jungkook asks. 

“Not at all,” Mr. Ri smiles. “I figure she’ll be there, too.”

The long drive feels that much longer with Jungkook in the passenger seat, just looking out the window and watching the buildings and houses pass him by. He turns to the man next to him every once in a while, asking about how you were during your last weeks in the office.

“She was trying her best, making sure she had everything organized. She spent a lot of time with the team, too, and I think that lessened her guilt, because she felt that,” Mr. Ri shares. “She hated that she had to leave at this time, but I knew it meant a lot to her that she was finally doing it.”

Jungkook hums, thankful that the team assured you that it was all okay. But still, he wondered some more, and the look on his face is something that the older man reads. 

“She hated that she had to leave you, too,” Mr. Ri adds. “I think it mattered to her that she didn’t feel tied to your family through you, even if she was always going to be. It mattered that she made that choice to leave you, that she came to terms with who she is and her past and decided that it didn’t matter, that she still wanted you despite all of that.”

“You sound hopeful,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “That makes one of us.”

“You can tell how much someone cares by how they hurt, Jungkook. And during her farewell dinner when you didn’t show up, she… she was hurt,” Mr. Ri says. “I had to wipe her tears that night. I think that’s also when she realized how much she really felt for you, when she saw what life could be like without you and knew it wouldn’t make her happy.”

Knowing he made you cry again when he wasn’t there on your last day frustrates Jungkook. He held himself back that time, thinking that a short goodbye would be better for both of you. Then he spent the rest of the day at the Arts Center and he’d completely forgotten about the dinner. In his mind, he already let you go; seeing you another time would pain him again. But that’s what hurt you in return. 

“Why are you going after her now?” Mr. Ri bursts through his thoughts. “After all these weeks of avoiding her, of convincing yourself that letting her go was the right decision, why now?”

“It hurts so much without her. I guess it’s how I know.”

The older man gives a satisfied smile. He always knew that only both of you could decide for yourselves when the pain was too much because only both of you would really know what to do about it. You've done your part and now it’s Jungkook’s turn.

They make it to your neighborhood in over three hours, with only one stop over at a service center. It’s the house in the corner, Mr. Ri says, and realizing that you’re so close again, Jungkook starts getting anxious. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. He supposes that coming out here to see you on a work day is enough of a statement, and maybe you’ll both just take it from there.

The car stops and he looks at the man to his left, as if pleading to take the lead for now. 

“Aish,” Mr. Ri huffs. “Are you really gonna make me ring the doorbell and ask for her after driving you all the way here?”

“Yes,” Jungkook pouts. “I… I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t wanna see me because I made her wait too long? What if she’s angry? What if she realized while waiting for me that she made a mistake?”

“Over three hours sitting in the car and that’s what you came up with? That she’s angry?” Mr. Ri scowls. “Don’t make me think you’re hopeless.”

“Please?” 

The older man sighs, thinking that Jungkook just needs time to pull himself together before facing you. 

They both get out of the car, with Jungkook standing on the side of the entryway, hiding behind the shrubs just in case you answer the door. 

Mr. Ri rings the doorbell and not long after, the gate opens. And for all the years that Jungkook has known the older man - with his firm and often stoic disposition - this is the first time that he’s ever seen his face soften, the gentle smile appearing and lingering. There’s a beat of silence, a moment of appreciation it seems, before he says anything.

“Hye-soo. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Byung-hun,” the woman greets. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we saw each other? Was it ___’s 25th birthday?”

“I think it was. That was a really great day. Your house looked much different back then.”

“Who knew an old house needed repairs and renovations to stay up,” she laughs. “But it all worked out. We’ve got more space now.”

“Space enough for Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin to run about?” Mr. Ri chuckles. “I remember their tag game then. They complained how it always ended so fast. But ___ also told me they’ve grown up so much now. And that they adore you. How’s it like raising teenagers at this time?”

“Ah, difficult,” she chuckles. “But it’s wonderful. They… they truly see me as their mother and I… I get to do things right this time.”

“Hey, you always did,” he comforts, having seen her do everything she could for you. “No one could’ve raised and loved ___ better than you. You got through the toughest times because of that.”

“With a little help, of course,” she smiles. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you. And years later, you’re still looking out for her. That means the world to me.”

She’s where all my love goes to, Mr. Ri doesn’t say. He knew early on that the only way to not lose himself in losing her is to care for the one person she loves the most - you.

“And you? Have you been well?” Hye-soo asks. 

“As well as I could be,” he hums. “The stress isn’t the same as when I was working next to Jae-sung but he still tasked me to babysit his son; that in itself is a bit tough.”

“And why is that?” Hye-soo giggles, knowing there’s affection in his words.

“He’s a bit of a hard-head, you know? Pretty stubborn, too, just like his father,” Mr. Ri laments, disregarding the scrunched eyebrows of the man just meters away from him. “And he makes me drive all the way out here, only to be scared to face the woman he’s been looking for.”

“Is that so?” Hye-soo asks, picking up on the man in front of him gesturing towards the side. “I hope he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of.”

Mr. Ri finally turns to Jungkook, motioning for him to get out of hiding and do what he came here for. Jungkook sighs in his place, thinking that this is the first time he’s meeting your mother, and it’s after he’d made you wait and think that he doesn’t feel the same way. With his head bowed down, he walks towards the gate. 

There’s a softness on his face when he looks up, and Hye-soo beams in delight at how the man she hasn’t seen in over 20 years looks very much like the 10-year old boy who used to quietly draw cars and houses on the Jeon mansion living room floor. It’s that same shyness and those same wide and curious eyes that made her have a soft spot for the younger son. They reminded her so much of you. 

“Jungkook,” she says with such warmth. “You’ve grown up so well. It’s nice to see you after all these years.”

She definitely has your smile. It’s welcoming and assuring and perhaps the one thing he didn’t know he needed before seeing you. There’s so much comfort in her eyes, and there’s this subtle strength that she exudes, one that’s oddly giving him the courage to face you. 

“Mrs. Cho,” he bows. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wish it was because of other reasons, though.”

“What’s wrong about the reason you have today?” She wonders. 

“A lot of things,” he sighs.

“Nonsense. You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she smiles. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be great.”

Jungkook follows inside while Mr. Ri opts to stay behind. 

There’s something special about entering someone’s house. People spend time and energy to make it feel like home, to make it be a place of safety and warmth. It’s a place filled with all the things they care about, of all the things they love. 

Jungkook never designed the places he’s lived in; an irony, considering his profession. But his residences have always been a place for him to just move into, to just sleep and eat and work at. They’ve always been… empty - grand, expensive, well-designed, but empty. They’re superficial, he would say, a reflection of what he’s always felt. Which is also why he never really welcomes anyone other than his friends. The women he used to bring home don’t count - he’d let them in and make them leave; he never makes them stay long enough to be comfortable, to feel like they belong there. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he belongs there, either, as if it’s a place reserved just for him to feel alone in. 

And so being welcomed in someone else’s home feels different. You’d done it to him, and being in your apartment both times made him feel at ease and familiar. Now, your mother welcomes him to the place where you grew up and it feels the same - there’s that comfort, that sense of nostalgia, even if he knows he’s never been here before.

“Welcome to our humble mansion,” your mother says. “Please, feel at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh, yes. Tea is fine,” he bows.

She heads to the kitchen and Jungkook is left to look around. It’s not a small house but it’s not large, either. He’s in the middle of a spacious living room, with shelves lining up the walls - one has family pictures in it, the other one has books and small framed paintings. The dining and kitchen are to the right; on the left is a hallway that seems to lead towards the bedrooms. There’s a screened door that also leads out the backyard. 

The entire space is airy, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. He spots some renovations done over time, as there’s some mismatch of materials, something only trained eyes could see. But they’re done well, and he could see the love that created this home for all of you. 

Your mother returns with two cups and places them on the table. She asks him to sit down, and Jungkook makes himself comfortable, facing the door as he gazes out at the sky and admires the beautiful changing of the colors. He knows you’d probably admire how it looks, too.

She observes him - nervous as he meets her eyes, a kind of desperation and fear evident as he constantly shifts on his seat. He’s grown up so much, but he’s still that shy little boy she remembers meeting all those years ago. She used to regularly go to the Jeon estate for some private events, and she won’t forget how Jungkook was the son who always kept to himself, content with a sketchpad and some crayons or riding the swing in his custom-built playground. 

“Do you remember me at all?” She wonders. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Did I see you often?”

“A handful of times,” she responds. “Your father introduced me to you and your brother when I first started and I’d see you whenever I had to go to your house. But you were always so shy.”

“I was, but I… I wasn’t really good at paying attention. And I guess, there were a lot of things from when I was younger that I don’t remember,” he explains. 

The faraway look in his eyes says that there’s more to that, that they aren’t just things he doesn’t remember but they’re memories he tries not to, that he blocks out. 

“I’m sorry about what you had to go through as a child,” your mother says, having wanted to express her apology for years, knowing how much the experience haunted him. “I involved your parents in a very personal matter and that deeply affected your family. It affected you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And I know it wasn’t my parents’, either,” he sighs, feeling regret over the resentment he felt and the distance he created. 

“They were just trying to protect you. I hope you know that now.”

“I do,” he hums. “Do you… do you know what happened that night? In the woods?”

“Byung-hun told me,” she nods. “I’ve never seen him so broken over not finding you sooner. He carried that guilt with him, too, that he didn’t look out for you the way he should’ve.”

“I… I didn’t know that.”

“That man feels a lot even if he doesn’t show it. He’s got the biggest heart that I know and he cares for you so much,” she smiles. “A lot of people do. That includes my daughter.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s eyes perk up, the softness mixed with sadness evident once more.

“She and I didn’t want our ties to your family to be known,” she explains. “It was a way for us to move on from all that happened. But in no way did she mean to deceive you. She… she would talk about you with such admiration and fondness. And you showed her that it was okay to let people in, that it could be worth it to follow her heart. She’d hoped that you could see past her decisions and know that she was sincere about everything. That she was sincere about what she felt for you.”

“I… I know that now.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re here?”

“It is,” he sighs, wanting so badly to see you, even if he doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to. “Is she around?”

There’s a prolonged silence after his question, and your mother’s eyes flit to the far end of the house before they return to him. 

“She, uh, she picked up the girls from school and decided to have dinner out and watch the movies,” she excuses. “I’m not quite sure what time they’ll arrive. And it’s a shame that you came all the way here. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Jungkook debates whether he should wait to say all this to you, perhaps when you’re ready and able to see him, or to say what he can now, knowing it’s important that he gets to express whatever he can at this moment, knowing it will get to you somehow. 

But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can hold everything in. All the emotions he feels for you - the regret, the yearning, the desire to have you next to him - have been festering and he just needs to say them. Maybe doing so in front of your mother might be a bit of pressure, but if there’s anyone who can relay all this to you, it would be her.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not good at, Mrs. Cho. Opening myself up is one of them,” he starts. “But your daughter, she… she showed me that it wasn’t so bad. That it’s something I’m capable of doing, and that it’s safe to do that with her. Even when I distanced myself, she didn’t go anywhere, and that does a lot for a person.”

“She’s quite stubborn, isn’t she?” Your mother laughs, remembering those hard times when she’d tell you to get ready for bed, with you disobeying her because you wanted to hold her hand while she cried.

“She is,” he echoes. “It’s one of the reasons why I like her. One of many, actually. She’s also so patient and gentle and understanding… everything I’m not but… all the things I want to be for her. And I wish I’d told her all this when I had the chance but I was so blinded by my own needs that I… I eventually pushed her away. But she was still the one to reach out. She left that letter but I only saw it today and I…”

“Came all the way here to see her,” she finishes. 

“Is it too late, do you think?”

“Between the both of us, not at all,” your mother smiles. “She’s all those things you said but she’s human, Jungkook. She gets scared, too, and hard-headed and tired and upset because she feels so much when she allows herself to do that. And sometimes she needs someone to just show her that it’s worth it, that having fears is valid but that they’re not the only things out there. And you being here… I think it’s what she needs.”

She pauses so he could process her words, meeting his eyes so he could feel them even more. 

“You’re all she thinks about, you know? She likes being home with us and she’s excited for her new job but I can tell that there’s something missing. And I know that's you.”

“She’s all I think about, too,” he expresses, feeling more at ease now. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just always think about being with her. And I know that made her doubt, too. I’ve gotten so used to her presence but that’s not out of necessity. I’m not… a boss when I’m with her. I’m just… me. Because she made me see myself as someone beyond all that I do, someone worthy, and it’s that person who wants her, who needs her.”

Jungkook bows his head, angry at himself as all the words come out now, at a time when you’re not in front of him to hear them, to see that he means all of them. For weeks, all the things you said rang in his mind and every time you were in front of him, there were so many things he wanted to say but he never could, afraid of your rejection, of losing you for good. Now they’re out in the open, but somehow the words don’t seem enough. He realizes that when it comes to what he feels for you, nothing is. 

“These are the things I should’ve said to her but I just got overwhelmed at the thought of losing her,” he continues. “I don’t want that, Mrs. Cho. I don’t want to lose your daughter. I want to be with her and tell her that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that I want to protect her and take care of her. I want to make her happy.”

It’s the most he’s said about how he feels for you, and he feels quite overwhelmed about expressing them. But he has to say them. You have to know, even if you’re not the one in front of him. They’ll get to you, he’s sure of it.

“I know she wants that, too, Jungkook. And seeing you now, I just know you’ll find your way to each other again, and you’ll both be free from whatever it was that was holding you back,” she assures. “But if it’s not too much, do you mind being a little patient with her this time?”

“Of course,” he nods, knowing that everything that’s happened could make you a bit cautious again, and that’s not something he could blame you for. He’ll give you as much time as you need, and you’ll be the one to find him once you’re ready. “I’ll just be where I always am. And uh, the Arts Center opens tomorrow. It would be great if she could come.”

“She’ll know where to find you,” she smiles. 

He feels that he’s said all that he could, so he finishes his tea and stands up. He remembers that he bought something for you, initially hoping that it would make you smile once he gave them. 

“Could you, uh, could you give this to her?” He asks, handing your mother a plastic bag, somehow feeling ashamed that this is all he got as a peace offering. 

She peeks inside, her eyes widening in delight.

“Chocopie?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “I would’ve given her flowers but I just thought this would make her happier. ___ told me that it’s her favorite because you’d give it to her as a treat while she waited for you to get off work at the school. She said it always made her day.”

“This was your favorite, too, wasn’t it?” Your mother asks. 

“It was. My mother said I always hoarded the ones she’d bring home and wouldn’t share it with anyone,” Jungkook chuckles, recalling those days of stacking them in his room and quietly eating them while he drew houses on his drawing pad. 

“You shared it to ___, though,” she says.

It catches him by surprise. He’s never done that, as far as he knows. This is the first time he’s even getting it for you. 

“That night those years ago, after I told your father what was happening, he offered us to stay at the staff house of your family’s estate until I’ve sorted things out,” she recalls. “We were in the living room while your parents talked to me and there was little ___, hiding behind my legs. I noticed her let go for a bit and that’s when I saw you, handing her some chocopie. She was always a shy kid but she took what you were giving, and I remember the smile on her face. Everything was new and scary for her and that… that was the first time she smiled that day. And I’ll never forget it.”

Jungkook stands in silence, as much of his memories from those years have been buried deep in his mind. He remembers hiding away whenever there were visitors at home but perhaps he looked on, curious about the girl who seemed scared and maybe something prompted him to share the treat with you, and something pushed you to take it. 

“I thought she was just being nice,” your mother continues. “She didn’t really like sweets then but she ate the ones you gave her. And when I’d take her to the convenience store after that, it’s what she always picked out. I’ve just been getting it for her since then, and that’s probably what she remembers but it was you, Jungkook. You’re why I bought it for her every time.”

“We’ve… we’ve met before. And I didn’t even know,” he manages to say, thinking now about the familiarity of your presence and the need to always look out for you. 

It’s something he always wondered about, how someone could just pull him in and make him feel things he’d never felt before - that comfort, that warmth, that desire to be good for someone else. It turns out, he’d felt those long before he knew much about the world. And while so many things happened that got both of you here, there’s still something serendipitous about not realizing you met as kids, and then finding each other decades later. There’s all this pain and sadness between the both of you, much of them intertwined, but at the end of it, you heal each other, you make each other stronger, braver. 

“She didn’t know, either,” your mother hums. “And this just means that she always kept something of you from that day. Without realizing it, you were always a good memory that she kept; you let her forget the bad things even though she'd forgotten about you, too. It’s how I know that even if she’s not the one in front of you right now, her heart will always search for you.”

Your mother’s smile is reassuring, as if she knows that it’s what he needs. He’d meant to find you today and tell you everything he feels, but somehow he believes it would’ve been hard for him to do that, and so expressing it is all he could do. He feels like he’s gotten so much despite not seeing you though. Learning that missing part of his childhood that had you in it is overwhelming enough, but perhaps it reinforces what he’s known all along - that his heart will also always search for you, it’ll always find you, and it will always be what he wants to hold close to him.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mrs. Cho,” he says as he bows another time and heads out to leave. “It means a lot meeting you today.”

“It does for me, too,” she states, leading him towards the door and out to the street where Mr. Ri waits. “And thank you for being good to my daughter. She’ll find you. You have to trust that she will.”

He nods, knowing he’ll just have to have faith in what you feel for him. And he hopes that as he walks away and gives you the space you need, you’ll trust in what he feels for you, too.

Your mother bids you and Mr. Ri goodbye, the longing look between friends hitting Jungkook deeply. They’re each other’s what if’s, and while one was able to live out another love, the other kept living out the one he let go of. It’s painful, and Jungkook now can’t imagine making that choice of letting you go completely. 

Love is a big word. It’s something he’s forgotten how to feel. He knows there’s still so much more to experience with you and love could be one thing, and that’s a possibility he’s sure he wants to live out one day.

He enters the car and sighs as he sinks in his seat. It’s been a long day and an even longer trip back home, but Mr. Ri insists that they take it.

The older man starts the car and looks dejectedly to his side. “So, she wasn’t there, huh?”

It takes a while but Jungkook answers. “She was.”

It’s a wild guess, but somehow he knew you were there, probably inside one of the opened rooms or in the hallway, just meters away from him but still so far away. Your mother had said you were out, but the way her eyes constantly flitted elsewhere, the way she gave him the time and space to just talk and express his feelings, and the fact that she’d shared that story about both of you meeting as children as if she meant to say it to you, too, all told him that you were right there. 

Maybe you hadn’t expected him to come. Maybe you didn’t know what to say this time. Or maybe you thought that seeing you would leave him tongue-tied again, unable to express everything he means, and you wouldn’t be wrong. He just focused on what he felt and not the right things to say or how you’d react at that moment, and he supposes that allowed him to be vulnerable, too. 

“And you’re not there with her because?” Mr. Ri wonders. 

“Because she needs time,” Jungkook states. “And it’s the least I could give her. And I’ll wait until she’s ready. We’ve spent all these months avoiding each other, thinking that letting each other go is the way to move forward but I… I know that’s not what I want. She is. And I’ll show her I mean it.”

“Well, you went to her. And that’s not all you’re doing.”

“I’m not good with words, you know that,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“I do. She knows that, too. So when she sees everything that you’ve done… she’ll know you mean it.”

It's the assurance that Jungkook needs, and he’ll hold onto that, too, until the time you find him again. Right now, he’ll focus on the Arts Center - he owes it to you to make sure that all the work you put into it is worth it. He knows you’ll want that, too. 

The long drive to Daegu had him think about how much of yourself you’ve given to the project that means the world to him. You may have done so because it was your job, but he can’t help but think that in the midst of it, you saw what he was yearning for, what he was trying to attain for himself, and that it mattered to you that he did. 

Jungkook and Mr. Ri go to a restaurant for dinner on the way back to Seoul, and the serious expression on the older man’s face has returned. This is his default state, but his soft, longing look is something that Jungkook won’t forget soon.

“How was it like seeing her after all these years?” Jungkook wonders. “Does… does it still hurt, knowing what could have been and the life she lives now?”

It takes a while but Mr. Ri finally replies. “In an alternate universe, Hye-soo and I are living with our family on some farm. We talked about that a few times, about wanting to grow old in a place that’s peaceful,” he recalls, all those long drives and hectic days becoming worth it whenever he shared them with her. “But this is the universe and lifetime I’m living now. The decisions I made brought me here, but they also set her free. You’ve met her, you’ve seen her home. She’s happy where she is and even if it’s not next to me, that’s the life I always wish she’d have.”

Jungkook hums, unable to fully comprehend the heartbreak of letting someone go like that, and then seeing them live a life that he could’ve shared with them. Thinking about meeting you at a park or something years from now, perhaps with a husband or children, and then wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you go plagues him. That’s not the life he wants. It’s not a decision he wants to make, and he could only hope that neither do you. 

He looks across at the man in front of him with all that love for the woman he can’t have, and Jungkook wonders where all of that goes, recalling a conversation from not long ago, when Mr. Ri first revealed about a woman he’s held onto for years. 

“Does it all go to ___, then? All that love?” 

“It does,” Mr. Ri hums. “It also goes to your family, Jungkook. It goes to you. Those have kept me going all these years and they always will, so seeing you and ___ care for each other means a lot to me, too.”

It’s a comforting thought, knowing that at the end of everything, Mr. Ri still finds happiness in others, that he hasn’t allowed himself to fall into a kind of despair that paralyzes him. Jungkook recalls growing up and seeing the older man always by his father’s side, joining him on his trips and then coming back with some treats that he gives to Jungkook and his brother. When he was in Singapore, Mr. Ri visited often, showing up whenever he had a project launch. Jungkook also knows that he stayed in Canada for a few months, helping Jeong-sik recover after an accident left him with broken limbs. 

And there was that incident that Jungkook carries with him, how he was powerless and alone under the rain but it was Mr. Ri who searched for him, who didn’t give up, who dealt with that guilt for years. And Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever thanked the man for all he’s done. 

They engage in light talk for the rest of dinner. Jungkook offers to drive the rest of the way home, insisting that it’s a way for him to preoccupy himself instead of thinking about you. They spend it recalling his growing up years, how he slowly isolated himself, and then how he gradually opened up again. The older man expresses how proud he is, that regardless of what happens after all this, Jungkook pursued his happiness, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you, for uh, for everything,” Jungkook says as he exits the car, hoping that his simple words would convey all his emotions. 

There’s a softness on Mr. Ri’s face this time, one that Jungkook has seen only twice in his lifetime, both of which were today. It speaks of care and warmth; he knows now that it also speaks of love.

You lay on your mother’s lap, needing the comfort you always felt whenever she held you close and ran her fingers through your hair. It’s something she always did when you were a child, and she knows that despite having grown up, you need it now just as much as you did before. She doesn’t say much, letting the silence of your bedroom envelope the both of you this Thursday evening. 

It’s been a roller coaster of emotions this past week, and today pretty much took you on a deep plunge that has you holding onto your chest and wanting the stability of being on the ground. After you left that letter on Jungkook’s desk last Thursday, you stayed in your apartment and waited for days. 

In hindsight, maybe it was silly that you stayed put when you could’ve called or gone back to his office in an attempt to talk to him. But you weren’t sure what he was feeling, if he was harboring resentment for how you chose to leave, or if he was too busy with the Arts Center opening to even think about you. He kept himself busy during your last weeks after all, and he missed your farewell dinner, too. 

That letter was your way of expressing yourself without the fear of outright rejection. And giving him that decision to find you was your way of telling him that it was his call, that if he still wanted you, you’d be waiting for him. And that’s what you did, day in and day out - you waited for that knock on the door or for the ring of your phone. 

It drove you crazy, thinking that you could be with him already, but the possibility of him also deciding that that’s no longer what he wanted plagued your mind; it’s what kept you from making that call or paying him a visit. There was that part of you that couldn’t help but think that he might’ve wanted things to just remain as they are. It made you realize that despite taking that step of being brave, there was still fear within you that held you back.

The hope dwindled by the weekend despite the comforting conversation you had with your neighbor, and on Tuesday afternoon, the sadness took over. You packed your bags and decided that if you were to get over this, being with your family is where you need to be. You knew your mother would convince you to wait for Jungkook a little longer. She’d be the reasonable one and say that maybe he’d missed the letter. And she may be right, but if you were to pursue him again, you knew you needed to be around people you loved to give you back that strength and confidence.

It turns out, your mother was right. Jungkook did miss the letter. It took him days to see it, and he didn’t waste his time and went to find you right away. Perhaps that certainty that you’ve been needing is what turns out to be the one that overwhelms you in the end. You walked out of your room to find him in your living room, and you froze. You stayed rooted in that hallway, listening to him talk about what he felt for you, and all you could do was hug your knees as you sat on the floor, taking his words in, hoping they’d heal your heart as quickly as his silence broke it.

“Do you think he knew I was there?” You look up to your mother in question. 

“I think he did,” she hums. “I doubt he would’ve said as much as he did to me, someone he’s just met, unless he knew you could hear him. He had this look on his eyes - it was sad and sincere, full of regret but also of hope. And it just felt like was baring himself right there, hoping you’d know exactly what he felt.”

You think about it. Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn’t have let himself be that vulnerable to someone that easily, even if it was in front of your mother. He’s not always able to express himself to you, and maybe that’s why. Maybe like you, he loses his words and caves in in front of the person he wants. It’s happened so many times to you, and it’s one reason you chose a letter to express your feelings; saying it to him directly with all the uncertainties just terrified you. 

But he’d been bold, he’d been honest. And you got to hear his every word, and you believed all of it.

“Why didn’t you want to see him?” she asks, given that you’d shaken your head when she looked at you after he’d asked if you were around. “What were you so afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It felt so long being without him, and I was holding onto this hope after leaving that letter and then the wait just… it discouraged me. Somehow seeing him there paralyzed me a little,” you explain. “Suddenly I wasn’t ready. I had all these feelings that were hanging in the air and to hear that he returned all those was just… I… I was overwhelmed because he was finally within reach.”

“Both of you are in this constant push and pull that’s keeping you from each other,” she points out. “At some point, you’ll have to just get over the fear and meet him where he is and he’ll have to do the same. No one wins in fear, darling. Weren’t you the one who told me I owed it to myself to give Min-woo a chance? You’re the one who said it was better to be scared with him next to me than to be scared alone.”

“Easy to say that when I’m on the outside, it seems,” you chuckle. “I get what you were feeling then, mom, and I understand now how hard it must’ve been.”

“That’s true, so you’re gonna have to trust me that what you said was true - it was better that I was scared with him next to me than if I was alone,” she repeats. “But I made that choice and it was the best one, because I can’t be any happier than I am now because I let him love me, and I allowed myself to love him. You and Jungkook could do that. You just have to trust that it’s all worth it.”

You nod. At the end of the day, you know it makes a difference that it’s your mother reminding you all of this. It’s her pain that you carried, it’s why you were always scared of opening up and sharing your whole self to another person. And it’s also why it matters that it’s her happiness that she reminds you of that pushes you to get over your fear, or at least, to choose to be with Jungkook in spite of it. 

She tucks you in bed and tells you to get some sleep now. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow, she says, as you have to make that long trip back to Seoul in time for the Arts Center opening. 

“As your mother, I’m kicking you out of my house,” she teases. “You are to head out there and tell that man how you really feel, okay? I won’t allow you back here until he’s with you.”

“That’s unfair,” you pout.

“It is, but so is keeping yourself away from him,” she shakes her head. “You take after me so much. Stop being stubborn.”

You laugh this time, knowing that while it’s that stubbornness that pushed Jungkook to open up to you, it’s that same trait that’s keeping you away from him.

“I will. And I’ll head out tomorrow,” you promise. “I’m so tired of being sad.”

“Good. No one gets tired from being happy, so that’s what you should try to be.”

Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, tightening his necktie and then spending half a minute to determine if it’s aligned or not. 

It’s something he’s started doing. It’s been weeks since you left and stopped doing it for him, and even if Lucas has pointed out a few times that it was crooked, the younger man never really attempted to fix it. Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to learn how to do it himself. For an architect with trained eyes, he’s ironically terrible at assessing something as simple as this. He never knows if he’s done it right, and he’ll always be amazed at how you do it. 

He finally decides he’s done it correctly, and he takes his coat to complete his look for the biggest day of his professional life. He opts for the classic suit this time, needing that refinement and elegance that a Kim Taehyung tailored outfit gives. Despite his best friend’s suggestions of trying something a little different, Jungkook insisted that simple is what he wants - the attention shouldn’t be on him, adamant that a textured charcoal ensemble would do its job. The pattern differentiates it from an ordinary suit so he at least doesn’t blend in too much and it’s a good compromise. You agreed with him on this months ago, and hearing you assure him that it looks good on him is something he’s missing.

He shakes his head at the thought. Here he is again, his mind going to you. Perhaps it’s his body’s way of dealing with the nerves; somehow thinking of you calms him down even if you’re not around. You’ve always had that effect on him, and with the unveiling of most important project of his life as the company’s Vice President, that composure and confidence is what he needs. 

It doesn’t stop him from wishing that you’d taken to heart what he said yesterday, not just about what he feels but about finding him. You know most of the details of today’s opening, and if you wanted to, you’d come to show your support even if he kept you in the dark during your last weeks. And if you really wanted to, you’d come to tell him that you want to be with him, and that you’re not going to walk away this time. 

It’s difficult to have today, of all days, be somewhat of a determinant of how things are going to go for both of you. He’ll definitely wait for as long as he needs to until you’re ready to face him again, but if it’s not today, he’s afraid there’s more that’s holding you back, and that not getting to you early on must’ve really hurt you. 

But he’ll keep on, as so much has happened for this day to be as successful as he hopes it to be. Hoseok constantly reminds him of the entire team’s hard work and that it’s what will pull him through. But beyond the expectations from his parents and the Board and past the importance for the artists involved, this was Jungkook’s dream as a professional, and he made it happen. He’ll hold out hope until the last moment that he’ll see you there, though, but if he doesn’t, he’ll just have to deal with your absence like he’s been doing these past weeks.

Jungkook exits his bedroom and gets approving looks from his best friends who’ll be his support system for today. He’d gone to the Arts Center early in the morning despite last night’s long trip back to Seoul, wanting to make sure that everything was okay. It took some reprimanding from his father to finally go home to fix up, the older man claiming that Jungkook will need to collect himself before all the activities in the afternoon. 

There’s an interview with the Culture Minister, a press conference right after, and an afternoon tea spread in the nearby hotel for all the artists whose work will be exhibited for the opening - all before the ceremony scheduled for 5PM. It’s a big day and an even bigger evening, and he’ll have to preserve his energy and learn to manage, and it’s the first big event without you. He knows it’ll be hard, so do his friends, which is why they're here to show their support and lend their energy when needed.

“You look like the star of the show,” Seokjin praises. “It’s a really good suit.”

“The stars of the show are the artists, actually,” Jungkook corrects. “And the public. It isn’t me.”

“Too bad. It’s a simple suit but you’re styled to still get attention so own it,” Taehyung states. “You look really good, Kook. So chin up, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

Jungkook tries to smile, hoping that faking it would eventually make it look real.

“We know it’s tough and you wish you could share it with ___, but just think that she’d want you to enjoy this either way,” Seokjin comforts. “You also owe it to her to give it your best today.”

He knows his friends are right. So many things had to come together for today to happen. Everyone involved did their parts. He heard that there’s so much buzz on social media about the Arts Center and the registration that opened to the public exceeded expectations, and that’s only the beginning. Thinking of all the possibilities excites him, and he’ll hold onto that to get him through the day. Or the week and even beyond that, if needed. 

Jungkook nods and thanks his friends, saying that it means a lot that they’re there for him. It catches them by surprise because he’s not one to easily express gratitude or any level of sentimentality. They suppose it’s what having you around had done for him, and maybe losing you also reminded him of the importance of being vulnerable. 

They head to the hotel that’s one block away from the Arts Center. Jungkook goes through the interview with ease, and with the support of his father, Hoseok, Ji-woo, and Lucas, he manages the press conference, too. He takes some time to collect himself after all that engagement, then he proceeds to the event hall to meet with the artists, curators, and craftspeople and show his appreciation. 

He feels a sense of accomplishment already just knowing that they’re as excited as he is. The inaugural exhibitions feature their work, and the products created to commemorate them are all beautiful. It’s truly come together, he thinks, and he allows himself to feel pride for the first time, knowing that more than the structure, it’s the connections and the art that they’re all celebrating, and it’s what he always hoped to achieve with this project.

It’s not long after when he finds himself in the Arts Center, first doing the customary ribbon cutting with his father and the Culture Minister before entering the lobby where he’ll give the formal welcome and signal the official opening of the center. 

It feels different with so many people present, all awaiting to see how the structure was renovated and what new features they’ll look forward to. There’s a buzz of excitement that Jungkook internalizes, as he sits on a chair by the stage. He watches on as his father and cousins go around to meet the guests, opting to save his energy for his speech. It’s the feel of his mother’s touch that makes him realize he’s shaking, and he turns to her and is met with her warm smile. It’s been a while since he allowed that to comfort him, and at this moment, it’s what he needs. 

“It already looks gorgeous, son,” she assures him. “And you’re going to do amazing up there. People listen when you talk, and they believe in what you say. I’ve seen it. So just trust in yourself, okay? At the end of the day, the structure speaks for itself, and that’s what the people will remember.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook smiles back. “And thank you for staying here with me. And uh, for all the other project launches that you attended.”

“Of course, Jungkook. I’ll always be there to support you,” she says. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Anything that you work on will be something I’m proud of. Never forget that.”

He nods, feeling a little lighter the more he accepts the love and support of those around him. He never really knew what that felt like, and he knows that’s all on him. He’ll try to change that now, and he supposes that expressing and receiving gratitude is one thing that he took from you. He just hopes he gets to have an opportunity to thank you again - he wouldn’t have done any of this without you.

Chin-sun approaches him to say that they’ll begin shortly, and Jungkook looks at the growing crowd one last time, that sliver of hope that he’ll see you keeping him going. There are so many moving parts to this entire project, but he knows he’s not alone. After tonight, he can breathe easy and look back at the year that’s passed and know that he put his all into this, and that it turned out to be exactly how he imagined it to be. 

It’s not long after when the program begins. CEO Jeon gives his opening remarks, followed by the Culture Minister, before Jungkook takes the stage. It’s a much longer speech he gives this time, as he wants to make sure that he gets to thoughtfully express his hope and purpose for the Arts Center. He talks briefly about its conception and then delves into the ideas of connection and intimacy, how he wants art to be experienced by people as both spectators and creators, and that he wants this to be a hub for people to create meaning, all while celebrating Korean culture in an environment that reflects the merging of tradition and modernism. 

He keeps his eye contact with the audience, and he sees their warm reception to his words. A video plays to introduce the artists and craftspeople who are featured, and then he ends with thanking everyone who was involved in the process - from the laborers, suppliers, and contractors, to the Board, the investors, and the executive team. He gives a special message to his project team and management support team, asking them to join him on stage because they deserve all the praise for how the Center turned out. 

There’s a resounding applause, and once that’s settled, he finally asks for all the doors to be opened. 

“There are so many things to explore here,” he says. “Please savor every space you enter and take your time. The meaning of art is something only you could define but the beauty is in the experience, and the experience is even more fulfilling when it is shared. Thank you very much and have a good evening.”

He watches the crowd disperse and he releases a breath. The night is far from over and the toughest part for him is just about to start, and that’s going around to see how everything is being received. His mother greets him after, congratulating him again. Hoseok and Ji-woo tell him how proud they are, and his father gives him that assuring nod, with words expressing pride and encouragement accompanying it. 

Jungkook quickly meets the team and gives instructions on how to divide and conquer before he heads to one of the performance halls. He sees Yoongi hanging around and there’s a warm smile on his friend’s face, a rarity because it’s not usually directed at him.

“You’re getting the hang of these speeches,” Yoongi hums. “___ would be proud.”

“Only if she’d heard it,” Jungkook sighs. “I looked around but I didn’t see her. Do you… do you know if she’s here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook nods, knowing he’ll slowly have to accept that maybe you’re not ready yet, or that asking you to find him here at a time when there are so many people might have been too much. There’s hope that you’ll give him a call or maybe meet him at another time. He understands what you must’ve felt while you waited for him, and he hates himself for making you go through that. It’s excruciating being on the receiving end of it, and it’s only been a few hours. 

“Let me know if you see her,” Jungkook instructs. “I’ll just be…”

“Around,” Yoongi chuckles. “I will. But your job continues, so go out there and find out what people are saying. I’ll be on the lookout for her.”

Jungkook thanks him and continues visiting the different halls, engaging with the artists and Board members and some other visitors along the way. He searches for your face in every space he enters, exiting them in disappointment when he doesn’t find you there. His heart slowly breaks, and he hangs on for a little longer until he starts to feel too much, with the tiredness from being on the go the entire day getting to him. 

It’s a hard call but he decides to leave. Hoseok assures him that it’s okay; he’s talked to every important person already and that’s enough. People will explore for as long as the Center is open, and he’s got the project and support teams to hold the fort for him. There’s not much else he needs to do anyway; their subsidiary company tasked to manage the operations has already taken over, and Jungkook’s main tasks have been fulfilled. It eases him, knowing that he’s not abandoning anyone by deciding to step out. 

As the hours go by with no sight of you, the heavier he feels. He needs time alone, not just because his battery’s gone out but also to just wallow in the sadness. It’s pitiful but it seems better than constantly hoping he’d see you here while being surrounded by so many people.

He goes to one final area before heading out. It’s the most special one, the one he dedicates to you, the one he hopes you’d one day see and know that he thought of you everyday, even during the days when it didn’t seem like it. He wonders if you’ll like it, if it would remind you of what you grew up with, and if it would be a place for you to feel safe and free and happy in, all the things he’d wished you’d feel with him.

One last look and there’s still no sign of you. He calls Mr. Ri and asks to be dropped off at the office. It seems like a better place to be in when he’s sad and upset. 

The building is empty on a Friday night. Everyone’s either at the Arts Center or gone home and he’s ironically the one craving for the loneliness of this place. He’s committed himself to his job for a decade and doesn’t know much of who he is outside of it. He learned a bit of that in the midst of the biggest change he’s experienced and the most challenging year he’s had, and it was through you. 

He learned that he’s actually quite caring, that there’s a protective side to him, that he steps up and shows up when he’s needed, and that he finds joy and peace in the outdoors. He’s passionate and a perfectionist but he wants to be a bit spontaneous, too. He makes mistakes and can apologize for them. He’s capable of kindness and in some instances, enjoys the company of other people with whom he can observe and laugh with. Being alone often made him feel lonely, and he realized that he’s someone who craves companionship, who wants intimacy, and that he’s someone willing to be vulnerable and share himself with the right person. And while he tends to be impatient most times, with you, he’s willing to wait. And for you, he’ll try to be better.

He enters his office and lets the silence envelope him. The city looks alive from his window but there’s dullness from within. He’ll get over it, he thinks, but until then, that sadness will remain for as long as you’re not in his life, for as long as you’re not next to him.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the elegance of your rose-colored midi dress a contrast to the stress painted all over your face. You give yourself only a few seconds to admire how you look - there’s a bit of that sexiness from the v-neckline and front slit, and the flutter sleeves and other vintage details lend to a classic look. Your hair isn’t as fixed as you want and your makeup is too pale for your liking, but with time no longer on your side, those are the least of your problems. 

You couldn’t sleep last night despite your mother insisting that you get some rest. The image of Jungkook leaving your house plagued your mind. You should’ve ran after him and told him that you were sorry, that it doesn’t matter anymore if you waited, for as long as he found you. You should’ve stopped him to say that you wanted to be with him, that you were done with running away from what you really wanted, and that you’re willing to always be brave for as long as he held your hand and eased your worries. You should’ve gone back to Seoul with him, but you’d been too overwhelmed to move, to speak, to chase after what you’ve been yearning for. 

Deciding to come to the Arts Center opening wasn’t always certain. You knew you were going to visit one day. You worked hard on it, too, and you wanted to show your support even if Jungkook would never know. But when he asked you to find him there, you knew you had to go right away. You imagined him making that speech that you helped him draft months ago, donned in the gray outfit that Taehyung was proud to make for him. You envisioned the smile he’d have on as he looked around to see all his plans come to life and the visitors taking it all in. 

You just didn’t expect to sleep through your alarm and then miss the train by a minute. The travel wasn’t bad. The chocopies that Jungkook got you kept you satisfied the entire trip, but it was halfway back to Seoul when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear. The ones you have are either too formal, too casual, or meant for a night out. 

Taehyung had designed a dress for you but you said it was no longer necessary after you resigned; it was fortunate that he hadn’t started making it yet, and so the guilt wasn’t too much. You didn’t want to go to the opening in just anything. While it mattered to get there, you didn’t want to get any attention, and so dressing appropriately was your plan. Everything else in your closet would make you look underdressed, and you made the quick decision to pass by a store and grab the first nice dress you could find and then head home. 

The clock was ticking, and it didn’t help that you got stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, and that a vehicular accident at the intersection outside your village forced the cab driver to take a longer route to the Arts Center. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the program was over, and Jungkook would probably now be in the midst of engaging with so many important people and you don’t want any of the attention that your arrival might bring. 

You finally make it though, and while minutes ago you were stressed and just desperate to make it to the Arts Center, now that you’re here, you’re quite nervous. You’ll face him again after so long, and the fact that happiness would be within reach brings about an unfamiliar feeling. But you also can’t wait to experience it. It’s a kind of joy and contentment you’ve only dreamt about, and you’ll finally know what it’s like.

Exiting the cab, you look around in awe. From this view, you could imagine the sunset framing the main building so beautifully. You enter the lobby and it’s even more spacious than you remember. Perhaps it’s the absence of all the laborers and materials on the floor. Now, it’s just this open space with art pieces placed around. The floor-to-ceiling windows would bring so much light in. It was one of the big changes to the old structure, and with the moonlight shining through, it feels as if there’s a natural spotlight on the art pieces. 

You’re enamored by the grandness of it all. Even more by the many people around, perhaps taking their time in exploring all that the Center has to offer. It’s such a massive space that it’s impossible to absorb everything after one go around, and you already can’t wait to take it all in the next time you visit.

It’s tempting to get lost in it but right now, your priority is finding Jungkook, but as you’re about to head to the second floor, Do-hyun’s whisper-yelling of your name catches your attention. She gives you a tight hug and there’s suddenly an air of sentimentality as the old team is together once again. It was just a year ago when you all took on the biggest project together and after all the highs and lows, it’s finally here. And while you missed out on the final weeks of preparations, they assure you that you’re just as much a part of those as they are. 

“You had to deal with the last minute changes, though,” you insist. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Only at the beginning,” Chin-sun says. “We were barely involved. We just helped with procurement but Mr. Jeon was the one who worked tirelessly on it. He had just two other people help him construct it and I guess that’s why he spent so much time there. But it turned out beautifully, and you wouldn’t have known it was only an addition.”

“Wha-what is it?” You ask, the curiousity taking a front seat for now. 

“It’s—”

“It’s something you need to see for yourself,” a familiar voice says. 

You all turn around and bow at the sight of CEO Jeon. He looks at you and smiles, gesturing towards one of the doors. You excuse yourself from the team and follow the older man, walking next to him in silence. 

“I was worried you weren’t going to come tonight,” he says. “I think that so was Jungkook.”

“I… I tried to come earlier but there was all this traffic and… I, uh, how did he do?” You ask. 

“Great, as always,” CEO Jeon answers. “He had everything under control and managed all the socializing impressively. He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” you smile, recalling the anxiousness that he used to feel at just remembering names and keeping up with people’s energy. 

“He’s come a long way in other aspects, too. Smiling, believing in himself, being kinder to himself… it’s great to witness,” the older man continues. “And standing by and caring for someone the way he did with you, that was… that was new, too.”

“I didn’t intend on feeling this way for him, sir,” you say, recalling that the last time you spoke, you weren’t ready to talk about it. “And I tried to suppress it, and that pushed him away but I guess, sometimes we lose people for a reason; we find them again for a reason, too.” It’s a statement that CEO Jeon had told you the last time you talked, and it’s one that stuck with you. “I’m here to find him again.”

“Good. I was hoping you would, so at least I’d know that all this wasn’t in vain,” he chuckles. “And I really do hope you see his heart with this, ___. He takes after me, and I didn’t realize just how much until he came up with this plan.”

You lose him for a bit, suddenly unsure of what he means. CEO Jeon notices, so he gestures towards his right and you follow his lead, and that’s when you see it. Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp at the space before you.

“He’s not always good with words but he tries. And this is how he does it.”

You noted entering the grand library as he spoke. The walls and design were familiar, as you’d gone in here during your last few visits. But this area that you walk into is new. It’s not a large space but it feels like it now. It used to be a section of historical books and archived materials that were put on display, almost like a museum of literary artifacts that a historian had sold off. But it’s nothing like that now.

The glass enclosures have been replaced by shelves and bookcases, all easily accessible and reachable by anyone. The framed walls are no more - instead, there are reading nooks and character murals painted artistically, bringing them to life outside of the books they only lived in. The lights are not blinding; they’re warm and inviting, illuminating a space that makes you want to just sit or even lie in, especially with the large stuffed animals spread across. The chairs aren’t the same, too; there are couches all around, all soft and comfortable, decorated with knitted dolls and colorful pillows. 

You walk further, mouth agape as you take in every inch of the space that brings back so many memories from your childhood. This place is new but familiar. It looks nothing but everything like that neighborhood-run library that your mom used to take you to. Towards the back is a little activity area, with a large, leveled table and a row of shelves filled with coloring books and paper dolls. 

You feel chills as you realize what this place is supposed to be, and who this was meant for. 

You remember the first time you told Jungkook about this. It was after that incident at the restaurant. He took you to a park and told you how the playground was his favorite place, how it made him feel free and safe, how it allowed him to just be himself and imagine doing and being everything he wanted. You shared a piece of your childhood, too, and described that library you frequented, how you felt sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye to it, and that you hadn’t seen a place like that again.

But now you have. That last minute change that he made… It was this. 

You turn towards CEO Jeon and try to find the words to say but nothing comes out. You’re overwhelmed by what you see, by the memories they elicit, and by all the emotions overtaking you all at once. 

“Jungkook called me one evening and said that he was going to re-do the archive section in the library,” the older man says. “He wasn’t asking for my approval because it was his project, he’d said, but he just wanted to let me know. He made all the decisions and most of the design. He painted the walls and some of the furniture, too. He spent every afternoon here and stayed until the evening. He barely rested. He just… he just wanted this done. It was so important to him.”

“I… I told him about a place like this, that I used to go to,” you manage to find your voice now. “He never saw it but it… it looks like this.”

“Maybe you described it really well,” CEO Jeon smiles. “It’s how he’s always been. Just a few words and then it comes alive in his mind.”

“That’s why this Center is as beautiful as it is,” you hum. “He’s good at that, bringing to life everything that he envisions.”

“It’s his way of saying the things he can’t say, too. It’s something he got from me, I think. I’m not good with words either,” he admits. “So when Byung-hun told me that your mother used to spend her lunch breaks taking you to a library when you were younger, I knew this was Jungkook expressing everything he feels for you.”

“It’s a bit grand, don’t you think?” You say shyly. “Building something for someone is… so personal, so—”

“Sincere,” he finishes for you. “And intimate, I’d say. But my son, he feels a lot. Which is why I think he tries not to, and why he distances himself from others. He felt like he’d lost you, ___, even before he had you and that… messed with him. He needed to do this for you, but I think he also needed to do it for himself. If at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be a part of his life, this would remind him that you were.”

You blink away the tears that you quickly wipe off as you look away. If at the end of the day, he’s no longer a part of your life, this would also remind you that he was. But you don’t want that, because you want him in your life, you want every part of him that he’s willing to show, and you want to hold every bit of that in your arms, care for it, and never let it go.

The time you spent with so little of him in your life made you feel his absence, and that allowed you to recognize the pockets of joy you had with him. It gave you something to look forward to, to connect with, and to treasure. The first step was resigning, and that itself felt like freedom. You get to pursue that connection and deep desire by choosing him this time. Knowing yourself means knowing how your heart heals and loves, and you want him to be at the receiving end of that. 

“I… I need to see him,” you say, not wanting him to spend another minute without knowing how you feel. 

“You should,” CEO Jeon nods and motions towards the door. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

There’s a soft smile on his face and you mirror it, as if to tell each other that all has been forgiven, that everything has been accepted, that there’s no more blame or burden to carry anymore. 

You rush out, wondering where to start looking for Jungkook. Turning to the left, you see Yoongi, who quickly rushes to you.

“What do you think?” He asks, gesturing towards the library where you’d just come from. “Is it close to the one you used to go to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “Did you help him with it?”

“Kinda had no choice,” he chuckles. “We were working on it while everything else was being completed. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially you. I didn’t even know why he wanted to build a children's library all of a sudden when it wasn’t in the plans until that night you told me about your childhood. It clicked then.”

“He was already dealing with so much but he still had time for this?” You say, still in shock that Jungkook pushed through with this despite everything.

“He had a lot to say to you but he didn’t know how to. And I guess working on this was a way for him to deal with losing you,” Yoongi answers. “You mean a lot to him, ___. He was a mess without you.”

You think back at the times you felt that he was quickly replacing you, that he was distancing himself, that he was probably upset because you’d messed up his plans, and that he just wanted to move on from you. All this time, he was working on something that he could leave you with, all because he knew how much it meant for you to have a place like this.

“Now I just have to find him,” you say. “Have you seen him?”

“Not in the past half hour. He’s just been going around but I did tell him I’d let him know if you came. You should call him.”

“I wouldn’t be able to say anything if I did,” you sigh, knowing that it’s probably the same reason why he didn’t call you after not finding you in your apartment yesterday. 

There’s too much to say that can’t be said over the phone. You’ll probably be tongue tied once he picks up. 

You decide to call Mr. Ri, the possibility of Jungkook having left swimming in your mind after thinking of how long he would���ve been socializing. It’s been hours since the opening; it’s possible that he’s gotten tired from it all.

“___? Everything okay?”

“Do you know where he is?” You ask, desperate now. “Is he still in—”

“I just dropped him off at the office,” the older man answers. “I don’t know why he wanted to be there but I’m on the way back to the Arts Center. Do you want me to pick you up somewhere?”

“I’m here right now and I just saw what he made. I need to see him.”

“You can wait for me and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll find my way there. Thank you.”

You drop the call and start heading towards the exit, with Yoongi on your tails, offering to drive you.

“You’ve done so much already. And you’re needed here,” you say. “It’s okay.”

“True, I have. It sucked witnessing you two constantly going in circles when you both clearly can’t get enough of each other,” he chuckles. “So go, find him. You can both stop being such idiots now.”

“Rude,” you laugh. “But thank you, Yoongi.”

He smiles, and it’s a sight that’s gotten you through some of the toughest days. He tells you again to leave now, and you rush out as you book a cab, slowly getting impatient as you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook already. 

You get inside the car and watch the city pass you by. So many nights you’d done this, wondering about your life and where it was headed, hoping that one day you’d find the strength within you to go for what you’ve always wanted, whatever it was. A smile paints your face as you do it again now. One day is today, and with another act of bravery, you’re heading towards that other piece of happiness, and you’re finally claiming it for yourself. 

The office isn’t far, and with the traffic having eased despite the hour, you make it to the building in no time. 

You’re suddenly nervous once you enter the lobby. You’re used to late nights but it’s different this time. The security personnel assigned tonight still remembers you, and he doesn’t ask questions when you say you want to head to the VP’s floor. 

It’s a little nostalgic walking down the hallway, even if you were here just last week. It’s knowing that you’ll be seeing Jungkook at the end of it that makes you emotional, your heart beating fast as the seconds tick by. You quietly make it to his room, and with the door opened, you wonder if he expected you to be here.

You stand at the entrance and see him standing by the window, looking out into the city below. His sleeves are rolled up, and he has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. You spot the bottle on the edge of the table and not far from it, the mess of folders and blueprints piled on the desk. 

“Why are you out here celebrating on your own?” You say, your voice soft despite the yearning you’re feeling. 

He hears you though, as the swirling of his drink stops and he slowly turns around to look at you. He looks tired, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up. You wish he notices the way yours do, too.

“The Arts Center is beautiful, Jungkook. You should be enjoying it with everyone else.”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” he answers, walking towards his table where he places the glass next to the bottle. “It felt incomplete without you around. You… you were a big part of that.”

“Why did you leave, then? That’s where you said I’d find you.”

“Is that what your mother said?” 

“It’s what I heard,” you say. He doesn’t look surprised, and maybe a part of you knew that he knew you were there, but still, he asks.

“Why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”

You start to walk closer and see the sadness in his eyes. It brings you back to this room weeks ago, how those same eyes looked at you in dejection, in guilt. You hate hurting him, and you don’t ever want to do that again. 

“I realized that I easily accept it when I’m told that I’m being selfish and that I don’t deserve happiness. But when it comes to someone’s genuine feelings, I cower,” you respond. “Your sincerity scared me and maybe that’s why I doubted it the first time and I’m sorry that I did.” 

Your voice starts to shake now as the emotions intensify with every word you say, and with every inch of distance you eliminate. 

“I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that I left, that I kept my past from you. I’m sorry that I was so scared about everything, especially about the way I felt, only because it was all so new. It was all so much; wanting you became too much, I didn’t know how to stop. But I…” you blink away the tears, not realizing they’ve been waiting to fall. “I realized I was more scared to lose you. I was foolish to think that I could just move on and forget about what I feel for you. I thought it’s what you wanted to do, too, and—”

He shakes his head, and it’s the most reaction you’ve gotten since you started speaking.

“All I’ve done since that night you left me here was think about you,” he says, now able to say what he’s been meaning to. “I didn’t know how to stop that either. Wanting you was no longer enough and I wanted to be with you but I didn’t think I could, not when I thought you didn’t want me. You left and I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“I knew it’s what I needed,” you admit. “I… I reached a point where if you asked me to stay, I probably would and I didn’t want to. I wanted to know myself outside of all this and I didn’t want you to be the reason why I’d stop myself from doing that, from searching for whatever would make me happy but I realized that it’s you.”

You take another step, your body aching for him as your heart beats faster. “I felt free but it didn’t feel like I thought it would be. I didn’t want to be here but I wanted to be with you. And I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I didn’t find you right away,” he whispers, as if he still carries that guilt with him. “I was so caught up with everything else, with dealing with the fact that I lost you.”

“The library,” you say. “You were caught up creating something for me.”

“I… uh, I didn’t know how to say everything that I wanted to say,” he sighs. “And I’ll probably always struggle with that but… I just thought that as you go about your new life, I could build you a place where you’ll always feel safe and free, and that if I can’t be that person to comfort you, you’ll have a place that can do that. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to forget me. But I also just wanted you to know that I was always going to think about you.”

“Doesn’t it feel a bit grand?” You ask now, inching closer once again as he takes another step forward. “Building a library for someone is a pretty big deal.”

“You would’ve been my biggest what if. I probably deserve something grand to remind me of how stupid I was that I let you go.”

“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?” You teasingly smile. “Because I won’t.”

“No,” he says a little seriously. “I put you through so much, ___. I just… I just want to be someone who would care for you and would make you happy.”

His words are simple but they carry so much. You suppose at one point, that’s all what’s started to matter. All he wants is to be part of that happiness you’ve been searching for. Maybe it’s what’s been missing in his life, too, and all you want now is to be a part of it.

Another tear falls down your cheek, and you appease the worried look on his face by saying that it’s a happy tear.

He softly smiles, wiping it off with his thumb before cupping your face in his hand. He’s gentle as he caresses you, and you learn everyday just how capable he is of giving warmth, that there’s such tenderness within him that he’s unable to fully show. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admits. “So many times that I’ve seen you cry and I’ve just been… so powerless to do anything.”

“Now you aren’t,” you breathe out as you eye his lips, knowing they’re what you need at this moment. “Now you can—”

His proximity stops you, as he bends down and closes the distance. His mouth presses against yours, the hint of alcohol intoxicating you a little but it’s the feel of him that makes your mind hazy. With his hand still cupping your cheek, he pulls you towards him, his tongue merely licking your own when he slides inside as if to tease. 

“Do that,” he finishes, pulling away only a little bit to allow you to answer.  

“Yes,” you heave, wanting so much more now that you’ve had a taste of him again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

“Good,” he pants, grazing the tip of his nose on yours. “I don’t plan to.”

You’re unable to take a breath before his mouth crashes against yours, but you don’t mind, not when you immediately lose yourself to the way he feels. The kiss is desperate, with his tongue seeking entrance right away and then entangling with yours. Yet it still feels gentle with how he holds you, as his one hand continues to caress your face while the other glides down your side torso, settling on your hip to pull you closer. 

Your fingers grip his dress shirt, needing that anchor to ground you as you feel yourself drifting, getting lost in what you’re feeling - pure desire, an insatiable need, a sense of relief that there’s finally nothing holding you back. He angles your head, allowing him to go even deeper, and you let him take control, you let him breathe you in, let his tongue explore your depths before he pulls back and nibbles your lower lip. 

But he doesn’t stop just like he said, as he makes his way to your neck. You moan once you feel him lick the shell of your ear, the sound urging him to do more. He finds spots that have you grunting in pleasure, sucking and licking and pressing soft kisses on them, leaving you a pleading mess. You chant his name, grind against him for that friction you badly need, and pull on his shirt, as if wanting that barrier gone. 

“Fuck,” he groans, meeting your hips. “Fuck, you sound good.”

Jungkook feels the shiver of your skin, as his mouth slides up and down your neck while he grabs your  waist. He loses himself in the sounds of your moans - constant and yearning - just as heavenly as he remembers. You’re pliant, moving your head to give him access, letting him explore whatever’s exposed for him to do as he pleases, to taste whatever you can offer right now. 

He pulls you for a kiss once again, and there seems to be more desperation now, as you try to dominate, to taste him, to keep him there. Your hand finds his, guiding it to map your body, to let him know where you want him, to tell him where he can go. He curses under his breath when he feels your breast, fondling it for the brief moment it’s there before you direct it further down. You know exactly what you want and he’ll give it to you. 

The front slit of your dress makes it easy, and when his finger grazes your clothed cunt, you let out a sound that rings in his ear, and he wants more of it. 

“You like that?” He huffs in your ear. “You want me to touch you like that?”

“Ye—yes,” you mumble, unable to say anything more.

Jungkook hears your desire. He feels it, too, but he teases a little, gliding down the wet patch before slowly pressing on your clit. You jerk a little, briefly pulling away from him so you can take in a long breath. You bite your lip and he knows that you’re holding yourself back.

But he wants more and he can tell that so do you. He doesn’t care where you are right now; all he wants is to taste you, to feel you pulsate against his tongue, to make you feel good and let you know what he can give.

He looks down where his fingers have slipped past your underwear then back at you, the lick of his lips his way of seeking permission. You seem to know what he means, and you nod, granting it to him. He pulls you again for a kiss, much rougher this time, before he pushes you against the desk and lifts you so you could sit on the edge, just like that first time. But like you said, you won’t stop him anymore. And he truly doesn’t have an intention to.

His mouth moves down actively, kissing every clothed and exposed part of you it passes while slowly lifting up your dress. He kneels on the floor and spreads your legs open, aching to taste even more of you. But he glances up and sees the anticipation on your face, his mind hypnotized even with just this view alone.

Holding your gaze, he teases, with his tongue merely grazing your throbbing cunt.

You tense up but it’s what gets you pleading.

“Please,” you whimper, the sight of him from below leaving you in a daze. “Jung—want—plea—I—”

You’re unable to form proper words so he finally gives in, pulling your underwear to the side. He grunts, as the sight of your wet lips has his dick getting even harder. Your desire matches his, and all he wants is to fulfill your need.

With the barrier gone, he presses his tongue flatly over your clit, warming it up first before he starts moving around. He alternates fervent licks on it with slow movements everywhere else - on your lips, on the sides of your thighs, and inside your hole. It’s messy and absolutely mind numbing, as your scent and and the way you taste divine have him burying himself even deeper into you, losing himself even more when he feels your hand in his hair, pushing him towards you as if you don’t want him to go anywhere. And he wouldn’t mind. He’d live here if he could.

You start to give in, your legs slowly closing on him but he pushes them apart, keeping them open so he could do more. With his movements, he pulls you closer to the edge - of the table, of your orgasm - and he buries his face there again, licking and sucking and moaning like a man starved. 

The sounds you make drive him crazy, and that's with you still holding back. You’re still in his office, doing something you both definitely shouldn’t, and he supposes you don’t want your obscene sounds to echo throughout the floor despite it being empty. He can’t wait to hear you without anything stopping you. 

You start to shake and that’s how he knows you’re close. He feels your uneven breathing, hears your broken chants of his name, and sees your grip on the table getting tighter. He wants to take you there, and with one final nip of your clit, you crash, the low, long-winded sound satisfying his need to pleasure you.

You try to catch your breath while he laps up your juices. You’re still sensitive, as your legs jerk with every movement of his. He takes a peak and sees your half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, but you eventually return to your senses and meet his gaze. You’ve had enough, it seems, as you pull him up and meet his lips. 

Jungkook tastes of you, and you kiss him languidly, still out of breath and definitely in a daze. You want more of him, though; you want to bury yourself in him and elicit hypnotizing sounds that’ll have him chant your name, too, so you start to palm his hard length in return. But he goes soft on you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before he cups your cheeks again while he returns your kisses.

“This feels quite familiar,” you hum against his lips.

“Really? I don’t remember you pushing my head between your thighs the last time,” he teases.

“Oh, shush,” you frown, quickly realizing exactly what you’d done. “I can’t believe I had you eat me out on your desk. In your office. On a work night, too. And while you have an event going on. Your father will be so angry.”

“Good thing he won’t know,” Jungkook shrugs, clearly unbothered. 

But you aren’t, so you pout at him. “What was I thinking?”

“Maybe you missed me too much, and I can’t blame you, since you know, I did, too,” he reasons, his shy smile turning cheeky in a second. “Or maybe you wanted to leave me with a gift or something,” he smirks. 

“True. When you’re stressed at work you can just remember what you did to me here and then you’ll feel better, I guess.”

“Actually, that’ll probably frustrate me,” he chuckles, pulling you closer again and wrapping his arms around you. “Thinking about how good you sound and how amazing you taste without you around… Yeah, I’d be angry.”

His praise flusters you, and you briefly turn away. But he assures you again that his father won’t know, and that you’re in the clear despite the indecency you both committed. 

“And it doesn’t matter,” he continues. “That is worth whatever trouble I’ll be in, if it happens. I… I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted you right away.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks again, and you giggle and bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting, the way he giggles back but hugs you tighter. He smells just as you remember, and you think that this is how you want your days to go from now on - flushed against his chest, cradled in his arms, with his soft lips giving you shivers as he kisses your forehead. 

It’s just your joint breaths that you hear now, and you turn to him, your soft smile making his heart skip a beat, and he knows that this is how he wants his days to go from now on - safe in your embrace, with your soft lips tracing his jaw and leaving teasing pecks on his cheeks. He captures them in his, basking in the taste of you, and it’s not long after when the kiss intensifies, leaving him wanting more again.

But just as you return his desire, it’s at that moment when the phone rings, catching both of you off guard and in surprise. He appeases you, as your eyes look at him in worry. He picks up the call, and he hums in confirmation before putting the phone down.

“The building is scheduled for sanitation in half an hour,” he says. “We have to go.”

“Oh right. I remember putting that in our calendars,” you hum, getting off the table and feeling the dampness of your underwear.

You fix your dress, trying to make it less uncomfortable. You turn to him who looks at you shyly.

“Can I take you home with me?” He asks. “Maybe we could, uh, continue this and you know, make up for the time we spent apart?”

“Yes,” you respond, feeling your heart race at the possibilities of tonight. “I’d like that.”

He nods, unable to control his own smile. He motions towards the door and you walk out side-by-side, knowing enough that there are security cameras around. There’s at least that unspoken agreement that neither of you want the attention that could come from having this exposed, whatever this is. But you suppose you have time to figure it out. You’ve both expressed enough that you want each other; you’ll just have to talk about how to move forward and make up for all that’s happened. 

It’s cheeky glances from the elevator down to the car. But once he drives out of the building, he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. He smiles when you tighten your hold, as if to say that you don’t want to let go of him, too. 

You explain that you woke up late and had to buy a dress that’s why you didn’t get to him earlier. You share how you met the team and then his father, and the anticipation you felt on the way to the office to see him. 

Jungkook narrates how his day went, saying that the interview and press conference were successful, and that he received so much praise from the artists for how the Arts Center turned out. You compliment him, too, saying how everything looks grand but that each individual space feels intimate, personal, and that you can’t wait to explore it further. 

The conversation is a good distraction, as the moment from earlier still has you reeling internally. His taste is addictive, and there’s just so much more of him you want to see, to feel, to immerse yourself in. He seems a bit impatient, too. He’s driving close to the speed limit, perhaps wanting to get to his place as soon as he can to continue what you both started. With everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t mind doing it all night. 

You finally make it to his building, and he constantly pulls you close as you make your way up, with his hand snaking around your waist while you smile at him. But when he opens his door and you enter his penthouse, he keeps his distance, letting you walk through his hallway and into his kitchen as he looks on.

He walks slowly towards you and his heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s got you alone now, and that there’s no limit to what both of you could do. But though he wants to just take you in his arms, feel you against him again, and kiss you until you both run out of air, he decides to savor this first - the sight of you back in his apartment. 

It’s been so long. And with you looking as beautiful as you do in your pink dress, he wants to ingrain this image of you in his mind - happy and content, with a tender smile that’s already healing the parts of him that once hurt. 

“Your place looks the same as the last time I was here,” you say, looking around.

“Well, I haven’t really been spending time here,” he shrugs. “I was too busy being an idiot and making this children’s library for this girl that I’m really, really into to make up for it. And well, she’s here with me now. I feel like this place is going to start feeling like home.”

“Plants would help. And maybe some personal photos,” you tease, but you reach out your hand that he takes and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and grazing your nose against his. “But I’m also here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I just happen to really, really be into you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a sound you once said you want to hear all the time. You think from now on, you will. 

“Good. I’d like to keep you for as long as I can.”

His eyes turn serious and it makes you feel hot all over. It’s hard not to use his playboy lifestyle as a basis for how he’d be, and you can’t help but think just how good he’s going to make you feel. There’s always been so much tension with him that in hindsight, you’ve always tried to quell or overlook, but there’s no need for that anymore. You’ll let your desire take over, release all that lust and yearning until he knows just how much you want him in ways words could never express. 

But just as he closes the distance between you, the doorbell rings, and his groan of frustration makes you laugh. It’s as if the universe is edging both of you with these distractions. 

Jungkook looks at you in apology and agony. “That might be Mr. Ri. Or Lucas,” he says, remembering that they’d said that they’ll drop off some of the gifts he received in celebration of today. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll probably enter on their own, since he’s given them permission to.

So he lets you go and heads towards the door while you scurry to the left towards the hallway. 

You doubt whoever it is would come all the way inside so you don’t really attempt to hide, but you do lean by the wall and listen in. You’re appeased to know it’s Mr. Ri, as you see him enter with several gifts and packages. 

“These are from the artists and the Board. There are art pieces in the cart outside so just bring them in,” he instructs, oblivious to you standing not far away. “They gave you lots of alcohol, too. I thought to bring them here already for whatever reason you might need them.” 

The older man chuckles and finally looks up and sees you.

“And I assume that reason is to celebrate,” he smiles now, and you don’t miss the smug look on his face that makes you feel flustered. “I was just gonna say that ___ was looking for you,” he turns to Jungkook. “Looks like she’s found you.”

“She… she did,” Jungkook smiles back. 

“Good. It’s about time you kids made up,” he teasingly rolls his eyes. Heavens know how much he had to deal with, with you and Jungkook being such hard-headed idiots.

“We were in the middle of it but then we got disrupted,” Jungkook frowns, to the amusement of the older man.

“Oh, I wonder who did that,” Mr. Ri teases. “I better get going then.”

He sets aside the boxes and turns to both of you. 

“But before I leave, I just… I just want to congratulate you, Jungkook. The Arts Center is a beautiful piece of artwork. And that… that last-minute thing you did… I’m telling you now that it drove your father crazy. But he… he told me how proud he is of you,” he continues, his look softening as he recalls their recent conversations, including the one just before he drove here. “To do all that for someone you care about, that takes a lot of heart. I think that you, finding it and using it is what he’s happiest about.”

His words are followed by Jungkook’s nod, perhaps in appreciation, and silence, as you’re unsure what else could be said after that. Mr. Ri excuses himself after bringing in the last set of gifts and there’s still that soft smile on his face before he leaves. 

It’s happening, he thinks, and despite all the time it took for you and Jungkook to get here, he supposes it was the only way. It would’ve been easier if he or even Yoongi or Hoseok went ahead and spoke to both of you, perhaps to say it was all a misunderstanding or that there was nothing to be afraid of, not when you both undeniably felt the same way. 

But he also knew that you both had to come to that realization on your own, that life without each other isn’t something neither of you wanted. You also had to make that decision for yourselves - to be vulnerable, to be brave, to take risks, and to find out that it would all be worth it if you’re just honest about how you feel. It seems you’ve both figured it out now, and he can finally feel at ease that two of the most important people in his life can now take care of each other, and that the love he gave helped both of you to get here.

Jungkook leads him out the door then returns to you, and as he walks to where you are, you’re finally able to appreciate how he looks. It’s just like the other times when he had an event to go to - hair slicked back, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt accentuating his toned chest, and the fit of his trousers showing off the rest of his figure. You eye him up and down and he smirks at you in response.

“So… you exposed yourself, Mr. Jeon,” you say, pulling the neck of his tie to bring him closer to you. “Who taught you how to use your heart like that?”

“Who knew I even had one in the first place?” 

“I did.”

“Not at the start though,” he says, with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“It was there, you were just hiding it. But I saw it. And I got used to it. Then I couldn’t get enough of it, of you,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And now I just… I want more of it, Jungkook. I want all of you.”

Having you be so bold about what you want does something to him. It already got him weak in the knees when you directed his hand where you wanted it earlier and when you looked at him to grant permission about having a taste of you. Hearing you say you want all of him causes his mind to short circuit, but he recovers quickly, as he nods and releases a breath before cupping your face in his hands then crashing his mouth into yours again. 

It’s sloppier this time, as you both try to take in as much of each other as you can. Your tongues battle for dominance, you nibble and lick each other’s lips, and you moan with every breath as he’s got you caged against the wall, your hands gripping on his shirt to pull him even closer.

You feel Jungkook’s length hardening as he’s flushed against you, and you grind against him, needing that friction badly. He meets your hips and releases your face from his hold, supporting your back that now arches as you chase him, as he finds purchase on your neck, licking and sucking to elicit the most obscene sounds from you. He kneads your ass while you moan his name and plead for more, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much pleasure with just this, and you can’t wait for what comes after.

“Please,” you beg, as you feel your cunt throb in pain.  

Jungkook doesn’t need you to say anything else, as he has the same desire to feel your body. There’s so much he wants to do to you, so much more he wants to touch and feel. He wants to know how else you sound like, what makes you lose your breath, what makes you quiver and shake. He wants to know how else his mouth could make you come and how his fingers can drive you wild. He wants to know how your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, how much of him you can take, and how it’s like to be buried deep inside your warm walls as your essence coats him. 

He wants you right now, so he heads towards the closest room, guiding you backwards as he unzips your dress and removes your bra. His hands immediately map your bare body, feeling the shiver in your skin with every movement. You whimper when he fondles your breast, and the thought of you being sensitive to his touch makes him even harder.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he guides you to lie down. He trails downward, nibbling as he goes and memorizing your body this way. His mouth reaches your waist, and from here, he finds himself intoxicated from your scent. He slowly removes your soaked underwear and the sight of your went cunt makes him throb in pain.

You’re so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He can’t believe he waited so long to have you like this.

He thumbs your clit, and your continuous moans and calls of his name make him give in. He stands up and smirks at you and, taking your hand, he replaces his fingers with yours, his eyes ordering you to touch yourself.

You follow, and though it doesn’t feel as good as how he does it, the pleasure hits differently when you watch him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. All those months of doing your morning routine comes back to you - now you get to see all that’s underneath the clothes you prepare, and when he pulls down his trousers, your mouth drops the same time it does. He’s thick and veiny, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. 

His eyes are on your sopping cunt while yours are on his fingers as they stroke his length, getting himself ready for you. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom, and while there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment, you don’t mind. It’s something you’ll eventually talk about. Right now, you just want him inside of you and you call out for him another time, prompting him to smirk once again and walk towards you.

He replaces your hand with his fingers this time, and when he returns to touching you, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, lowering himself for a searing kiss.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips.

You lose it, as if you hadn’t lost yourself already, but his deep voice and the way he grunts against your skin do something to you. You feel his cock not long after, and no amount of yearning for him could prepare you for how good he feels. He fills you up just right, and the gradual way he enters you while his eyes bore into yours has your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he mouths as he goes deeper. “Fuck, baby, you feel so, so good.”

He hits the edge and he settles for a while, letting you get used to the feel of him, but when you start to grind against him, he decides to do the same.  

He moves his hips, pushing then pulling out then pushing harder. He raises himself and intently watches your face distort in pleasure - your breath hitching, your lips parting, your eyes half-lidded as you moan his name, as if it’s the only word you’ll remember after all this. He starts to increase the pace, loving the way your breasts bounce in response. Then he slows down, only so he could capture one of them in his mouth to suck and the other, in his hand to touch. 

The feeling of ecstasy overtakes you. He doesn’t go rough all the way, as you initially expected he would. Instead, he paces himself, going fast for a period of time and then slowing down to let both of you bask in the feel of each other. He doesn’t seem to want either of you to come right away, you can tell, by the way he moves and the way he looks at you - with a kind of longing and desire that feels so intimate.

He gets back on his knees after and spreads your legs, giving him more space to pound into you, and with his hands gripping your hips, he pulls it towards him to meet his. You feel him deeper inside, and it has you holding onto your breasts, pleasuring yourself there, too, as he starts fondling your clit once again. 

You’re feeling everything everywhere, and your mind starts to go hazy when he lifts your leg and places it over his shoulder, allowing him to enter you from an angle that has you mewling in intense pleasure. You feel your eyes rolling out, but somehow they land on him, and the way his head tilts back while he grunts in pleasure as he caresses your thigh is a sight that you want to keep seeing. That image of his clenched jaw and strained neck will be ingrained in your mind from now on.

You continue with this pace for a while until he lowers himself and kisses you, hard and deep the same way he thrusts into your hole. With his chest flushed against yours, his mouth sucking and licking your neck, and his hand flicking your pert nipples, you come, the deep inhale and the exhale of moans echoing inside the bedroom. 

Jungkook feels your essence despite the barrier, and it’s a kind of euphoria that pushes him to reach his peak. He hovers over you again, pinning your hands to your side for that anchor he needs. He meets your tongue with his, and then he pounds hard, wanting that high as you come down from yours. But you don’t hold back, as you meet his hips and curse and tell him how good he feels 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you seethe. “You fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck, yes. Keep going, please baby. Keep going.”

Your words push him over the edge, and he crashes before he knows it. He grunts as he catches a breath, a way to express the intense pleasure he just experienced. But he sees you still panting. You may have already come but another one won’t hurt, so he nibbles on your breasts again, knowing it won’t take long. You’re already close, and with a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, he feels you quiver again. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he mumbles. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds again.”

It doesn’t take long. There’s a tone of your moan that lets him know you’ve reached your peak, and he keeps that in mind for everyday that he plans on doing this to you.

You catch your breath, feeling as if you’re in a daze with what you just experienced. As you come down again, you meet his eyes. They were intense and lustful earlier but they’re soft now, just as his smile is. There’s contentment on his face and adoration. He kisses your lips, and that’s soft, too, before he turns to your side and lies on his back. 

Jungkook feels the exhilaration from that ride with you, and he definitely wants to do it again. But he knows he’ll have to recover. He turns to you and thinks that you’ll need some time, too, but he can’t help himself. He presses soft kisses on your torso, up until he reaches your cheek, and that causes you to smile.

He finally stands up and tells you he’ll clean up, and you nod, somehow needing a moment alone to wrap your mind around what just happened. 

It’s different, you think, when sex is with someone you actually feel really strongly for. All the ones before don’t compare. Sure, you were attracted to the men you dated, but they never made you feel anything close to this. Perhaps it’s Jungkook, but maybe it’s also you - for the first time, you’re giving more than just your time and your energy. For the first time, you’re giving your heart, too. All of it.

The thought makes you giddy. It also makes you shy because it all feels new. And it suddenly makes you hyper aware of where you are. 

You look around. This is a new room. Other than Jungkook’s bedroom, you’ve only been to his study; this door was always closed and you never had a reason to see what’s behind it. You know he doesn’t really have people over but you assume an extra bedroom is always good to have.

You start to feel cold without Jungkook’s warmth, so you shift on the end and pull the covers, burying yourself under it. You don’t remember where your dress is, and you’re suddenly too shy to just head out the room and get it. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits the bathroom with his boxers on, and even that has you feeling all kinds of things. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you respond.

He looks around and spots his dress shirt on the foot of the bed. He takes it and pulls away the blanket so he can make you wear it. He buttons it and fixes your hair, parting the damp strands and tucking them behind your ear. He helps you stand then you scurry towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

You don’t take long as you don’t want to make him wait, and when you open the door, you see him with his trousers back on, fixing the bed. On top of it are your folded dress and underwear. Between that and the shirt you’re wearing, something inside you stirs as you’re reminded again of how thoughtful Jungkook is. You like him for so many reasons, and now that you get to be with him like this, you’ll get to know him even more.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him as he moves about until he starts walking towards you. 

“I’ll get your clothes dry cleaned. Is that okay?”

You nod, giddy again and unable to speak. 

“I was also, uh, thinking. Do you want to spend the night with me? And maybe the one after, too?” He asks.

“I’d like that,” you smile. 

“Good,” he smiles back, kissing you deeply. “I was really hoping we get to do more of that.”

You laugh in response even if deep inside, you’re screaming in excitement. You’re still overwhelmed by all this, but you know that spending the evening and then waking up next to him will let you ease into this new life that you have. 

He laughs, too, when your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten anything since you left your mother’s house, and that was almost 12 hours ago.

“I actually don’t have anything in my fridge so let’s just order out.”

You nod, and shortly after, you find yourself sitting on the couch with him, your legs laying over his lap while his fingers caress your thigh. He’s got his arm around you and you sit there, just talking, while you wait for your dinner to arrive. 

You stay on the dining table when it does, and you remain there after you’ve both wiped out all the food. You both clean up, liking the domesticity that feels more real now, even more when he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. 

“I don’t have any makeup remover or anything like that,” he says from inside his bathroom. “Just cleanser. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, that should be fine,” you say, following him inside. 

He places some skincare items on the counter and says that he’ll buy your brand this weekend. He grabs a towel and places it on the stool next to the shower before he turns to you. 

There’s a look of desire in your eyes, and though he’d initially thought that maybe you’d want to wash up on your own, the way you’re biting your lips makes him think that maybe you don’t.

He walks towards you and, with his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt you have on, he looks at you in question as a way to seek permission. You nod, and it’s his confirmation. There’s something about you speaking to him with your eyes that has him nervous, but every approval you give stirs something in him. There’s your shyness but there’s also that desire to have him close.

He undoes the shirt, and though he’s already seen your bare body earlier, it still takes his breath away, as if it’s the first time he’s being graced with this, only because he’s been craving it for weeks.

Not much is said when he undresses after you, but you don’t really need words. Right as he turns on the warm shower, your lips are already on his. It’s sensual this time, as you both seem to want to savor this now that you have more time to spare. There’s still so much he wants to know and to feel, and he supposes there’ll be more days to learn all that. 

But then again, that could also be today, as you kneel on the floor and take his hardening dick in your mouth. You’re just as heavenly as he imagined, even more when you let him come on your chest and he’s dazed with how turned on you look. He finishes you off with you caged against the wall, your breasts in his mouth and his fingers inside your hole. It’s more languid kisses once you decide to actually take a shower, and going slow as you caress each other’s bodies is another feeling that he wants to keep having.

He gives you one of his shirts to wear before you both head to his bed. It’s past midnight and the day has started to catch up to him. He’s been tired since midday, and he would’ve crashed on his couch after finishing a bottle of whiskey if you hadn’t come. 

But you did, and the past few hours have been nothing short of amazing, as if it’s a dream he doesn’t believe is really happening. You lay next to his side, looking warm and comfortable with the softest smile on your face, a contrast to how you looked when you took him so deep in your mouth and moaned curses while you pulled on his hair as you came on his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him.

“A lot of things. Also nothing,” he says. “So much has happened today and I just… I just wanna sleep but I also want to stay awake with you a bit longer.”

“We’ll have more time together though,” you assure him. “We can talk about them tomorrow.”

He hums, knowing that his weekends from now on will no longer be boring like they used to be. 

“What about you, what are you thinking about?” 

“That your bed is so soft and your pillows smell so nice,” you respond, earning you a laugh. “Better than the one earlier. Although come to think of it, I didn’t even know you had a guest room.”

“It’s, well, uh… I wouldn’t really call it a guest room. I don’t really make people sleep there. Unless, they, uh, stay the night even if I told them not to.”

With his embarrassed face, the thought dawns on you. 

“You have a room specifically for your hookups?” You gasp. “You fucked me in your hookup room!”

You don’t seem angry but still, he supposes it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.

“That… that was the closest room with something to lie on and I just wanted you so badly,” he explains, truly looking like he feels bad about it. “I only have that because I don’t let people in my room and well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t like people being inside my space but you… I want you here. I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with apologetic eyes and you suddenly feel bad for reacting the way you did. It’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t ideal when you look back on it but then again, he fucked you so good, it doesn’t really matter. It also doesn’t matter where he does it. But maybe claiming other parts of his penthouse isn’t so bad.

“It’s okay, you made up for it,” you say, kissing his pouty lips to let him know it’s fine. 

There’s really nothing you can complain about, not when you’re next to him and feeling the safety and warmth of being by his side. There’s that comfort of being able to say and do what you want to, including expressing your desire without holding back anymore. That itself feels like freedom, and you get to live that out with him.

“We should probably skip that room for next time,” you add. “I mean, you have a nice bathtub and a spacious closet and a large couch and a wide dining table.., you have a study, a gym…” you smirk, something he does, too. “We have so many options.”

“We do,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you now. “We also have my bed, in case you forgot.”

“I was just about to say,” you giggle, sitting up and motioning for him to lie on his back. His smile is replaced with a lustful look once you start grinding against his clothed dick. “So, uhm, shall we?”

He grabs your hips and aids your movements, immediately feeling pleasure that he fortunately isn’t too tired to build on. He sits up and catches your lips in his. 

“I can do this all night,” he whispers.

And with languid kisses and curious hands mapping each other’s bodies, you feel the beginnings of learning what your heart could do. Right now, it’s racing, as it feels the desire to be one with him, to share in intimacy and vulnerability as you bare parts of yourself to him with no reservations. 

You know that starting today, there’ll be more that your heart will learn to do, like understand and forgive. One day, it will heal. And as it soars and finds a home in Jungkook’s arms, you know that one day, it will learn how to love, too.

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You Again - Flashback

A/N: A snippet of Evelyn and Joe in high school. I'm still completing Part 2 which hopefully should be up soon.

Warning: Themes of bullying

Word Count: 1.1k

READ PART 1 HERE

Escambia High School, October 2000

“Hey Evie!”

She is so startled she collides with her locker door, her books nearly flying out of her hands. It takes a couple of seconds to regain her bearings and realize who is standing in front of her, and it’s not anyone she’s expecting, certainly not the captain of the cheer team.

“Ayesha,” Evie straightens, awkwardly shoving her books back inside her locker and adjusting her skewed glasses. “Umm, did you…did you want something?” she asks, her arms crossed protectively over herself. They’re not friends - Ayesha has never hesitated to remind her of this - so she wonders why she is here, flashing a megawatt smile that one could mistake to be amiable. 

“So…don’t trip,” Ayesha begins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I found your note in History class.”

For a second she’s confused, and then it hits her. Oh no. Oh god. She tries to play dumb, fighting the urge to look into her History textbook where she’d thought she’d tucked her little, ill-advised daydream away in one of its pages, safe from the prying eyes of the queen of the mean girls. “W-What? What note?” 

“The note you wrote, silly. I think you dropped it on the floor, you really need to be more careful, girl,” Ayesha giggles.

It’s a lie and they both know it. Evie wouldn’t be so stupid as to expose such damning evidence, let alone discard it haphazardly in class of all places. Her brain is working frantically, trying to figure out how on earth Ayesha got hold of it to begin with. Each student had to present their History paper in front of the entire class, and she suspects Ayesha swiped the note from her desk when it was her turn. It’s not hard to imagine the malicious glee in her eyes as she read the contents, not too different from the one she is trying and failing to hide right this moment:

Dear Joe, Would you like to go to the Fall Ball with me? YES   NO

“Okay,” Evie starts tentatively, treading lightly. “So can I have the note back? Please?”

Ayesha’s eyes widen dramatically. “Oh! I gave it to Joe. I saw his name on it. The note was for him, right?”

Evie feels her heart sink to Titanic depths, her insides heavy from the weight of this shattering news. The magnitude of the trouble she's put herself in brings tears to her eyes but she quickly blinks them away before Ayesha adds it to her ammunition. “Oh…I, uh…it wasn’t for…You’re mistaken, the note was for another Joe-” she starts to backtrack.

“Oh girl, there’s only one Joe in this school who matters and we all know who he is,” Ayesha dismisses flippantly. “Why you so worried anyway? I come bearing good news. He asked me to give you this.” She extends her hand, a piece of paper that looked torn out of a legal pad tucked between her fingers. Eyeing her skeptically, Evie takes it, her anxiety rising as she unfolds it and reads the familiar scribble:

Dear Evie,

Meet me under the bleachers at lunch.

Joe.

Against her better judgment, her heart flutters at his invitation, excitement bubbling inside her just knowing he responded to her. But common sense swoops in, and she stammers, shaking her head, “Look, I don’t…this isn’t necessary at all…Please, let’s just forget that any of this happened-”

“Girl, are you seriously chickening out on Joe Anoa’i?” Ayesha counters. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for you and you’re turning it down?”

Evie makes one last throw of the dice, desperate to get out of this predicament. "But why are you doing this? Isn't he your boyfriend?"

"It's...complicated," Ayesha answers easily, placing a hand on Evie's shoulder. “Sweetie, any girl would kill to be in your shoes right now. Who knows, he might say yes. Are you really gonna throw that away because you’re scared?”

Terrified, actually. Not much good comes out of interacting with Joe Anoa’i when you’re not a member of his precious clique. But Ayesha is right. A private meeting with the most popular boy in school is too enticing to pass up, if only this once. So Evie forces herself to wait through the agonizing hour and a half before lunchtime, embroiled in thoughts of how their conversation will go. 

It turns out she should have trusted her gut, because the minute she steps onto the field, something feels off. 

Joe is not here. Outside is eerily quiet save for the muted bustling inside the cafeteria a few feet away. Chalking it up to him standing her up, Evie permits herself to exhale a huge sigh of relief and spins back towards the building, eager to forget all about the mess she almost made.

Then, it happens. Out of the shadows, they step out, seemingly from every corner of the stands. Jon. Josh. Ayesha and her lackeys, Kelli and Chichi. All of them emerging one by one until she is surrounded by his entire posse.

And last but not least, Joe appears like some kind of video game final boss. He steps between the twins, both of whom stare her down with the same demeanor as vultures circling over a carcass. He twirls her letter between his long fingers, his handsome face wearing a sugary sweet smile and a spiteful glint in his eye that strikes terror in Evie.

“So, Evie…I read your little message to me. It was…sweet. Real cute,” he says, coming closer to her, humored by the way she tenses as he towers over her. “I just have one question…” 

He gently trails the corner of the note along her cheek. The gesture would be considered as intimate if his eyes didn't harbor so much malevolence. “Did you really think my answer would be yes?”

The group bursts into laughter, the sounds cruel and taunting. Joe circles around her, regarding her with the same countenance as a piece of gum stuck underneath his Air Max sneakers. “What makes you think I’d ever wanna go to the dance with a nobody like you? Huh?” He throws an arm around Ayesha and kisses her cheek. "Babe, didn't you tell her you were going with me?"

Ayesha crosses her arms and shrugs with fake nonchalance, an even faker smile on her pretty face. "I wanted to...but it was much more fun fuckin' with her head."

She should have known better. Better than to write that shit in the first place. Known that Ayesha was setting her up from the start; known that standing her up or simply ignoring her was too merciful, too tame for Joe and his coven.

It’s beyond humiliating, and all Evie wants is for the ground to swallow her whole.

Ayesha steps up to her, angling her head low enough to catch Evie’s teary-eyed expression. “Awww, are you gonna cry? You gon’ cry bitch? You thirsty-ass pathetic loser?”

Ayesha's arms shoot out, shoving Evie so hard that she falls over, crying out as her knees collide painfully with the ground. Her glasses slip off her face and onto the cold dewy grass and dirt. Her tears splash onto the cracked lenses as they all step past her fallen frame, their cackles echoing in her ears long after they are gone.

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

Fun fact: A version of this incident happened to me in high school in real life. Only difference is I wasn't pushed. 😭😭😭

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[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VII

—forever winter

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and covid. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello again, here's the next part!! also here are a few songs i listened to while writing this one: salt in the wound - boygenius, flume - bon iver, the gold - phoebe bridgers, for emma - bon iver, forever winter - taylor swift and calgary - bon iver.

happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 19, 2020

Los Angeles, CA

There have always been two versions of you: the person you once were and the person the world has decided you are. The first is the one who existed long before the spotlight, the one with a bit of adolescent angst, dreams bigger than herself, and a heart still learning to shield itself.

This version was taught by her parents that she was special, but the world hadn’t yet caught on. She was the girl who felt small and out of place, who wrestled with who she was and where she belonged.

And then there’s the second version, the one who stands in the center of magazine covers, on the glossy side of fame. She is everything you once dreamed of becoming—and more. You’ve spent the last decade perfecting her image, carving her out of raw ambition and countless hours under the hot glare of cameras. Her Wikipedia page reads like an epic: awards, accolades, achievements—flawless. She’s a masterpiece.

This side of you is never tired. She never shows frustration. She knows how to angle her face when the camera flashes, to smile when the questions sting, and to cry beautifully when accepting awards. She can gracefully discuss the sexism she’s faced in the industry, yet she knows better than to name names or point fingers.

She always sticks to the narrative.

For the longest time, you hoped you wouldn’t need to split into two people. That the version of yourself from years ago would be good enough for the world. But the divide wasn’t gradual—it was sudden. It happened four years ago, the day your ex decided to make you the centerpiece of a bitter, ugly breakup that splashed across every tabloid in the country. Since then, you’ve been caught between these two identities, juggling the woman you once were with the image the world expects of you.

As you sit in the back seat of the car, your eyes linger on your reflection in the tinted window. Tonight is the SAG Awards, another high-profile event where your public persona will take the lead. You watch yourself in the mirror, a familiar stranger, and wonder: Does anyone truly know you? Do you even know yourself anymore?

“There's a line of press when you get out of the car,” Taylor, your manager, says without looking up from her phone. “You know, the usual stuff.”

“Got it.”

You nod, trying to focus on the task ahead, but your thoughts are far away. You look out the window, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. No matter how many of these events you attend, it never gets easier.

The car slows to a stop, the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder through the windows.

“Why isn’t Daniel here?” Taylor asks, breaking the silence.

“He had to fly back to Enstone,” you reply, a pang of disappointment in your chest. “The season starts soon. He’s prepping.”

Last year was a challenging one for Daniel—his racing season wasn’t what he hoped for, and he’s determined to make up for it this time around. His commitment to his craft mirrors yours in so many ways, but tonight, you wish he was here with you.

“Oh, that’s too bad, babe,” Taylor says, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of sympathy. “When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure; he didn't say,” you murmur. “Hopefully soon.”

The door opens, and the roar of the crowd hits you like a wave. Flashing cameras, the shouting of photographers, and the glittering red carpet stretch out before you. “Looks like we’re here,” Taylor says, stepping out and extending a hand to help you.

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. It’s always easier with someone by your side, but tonight you’ll have to do this alone. You follow Taylor’s lead, plastering a smile on your face as you step out into the chaos. The cameras flash, posing and waving, but inside, you feel detached—like you’re watching yourself from afar.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally make it inside the venue, your body relaxing slightly as the noise of the red carpet fades behind you. You’re greeted by familiar faces and smiles, but the exhaustion from keeping up appearances lingers.

“I thought I was going to be the coolest person here, but clearly, you've beat me to it.”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts, deep and teasing. You turn and find Pedro standing there, dressed in a sleek silver suit jacket with black pants, his expression warm and playful.

His presence doesn't faze you; you've been filming for the Mandalorian since November last year, seeing each other here and there, not really spending time together between takes, and not acknowledging what happened at the wedding. You didn't hear from him since production stopped mid-December, only to get back on set early January. Although with everything else he's doing, you barely see him there anyway.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes lingering on you.

You glance down at your outfit—a sharp, stylish suit you picked for the night. It fits perfectly, giving you an air of confidence even though, inside, you feel anything but. “Thanks,” you say. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Pascal.” You gesture to his getup, offering a kind smile.

Pedro smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I came over to congratulate you.”

"Yeah?"

“The Achievement Award. That's huge.”

You laugh softly, a little self-conscious. “That sounds like an overstatement for someone who’s only 28.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing. Pedro has always been able to see through you in ways that others can’t. You can hide from the world, but not from him.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, his voice firm.

“Do what?” you ask, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“Don’t invalidate your accomplishments. You deserve this.”

There’s something in the way he says it—a weight to his words that makes you pause. Part of you wants to argue, to downplay everything like you always do, but his sincerity stops you.

Instead, you nod, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Pedro,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

Does it?

He sees right through and holds out his arm, a silent invitation. “Wanna walk in with me?”

For a moment, you hesitate. There’s an unspoken tension between the two of you, a history that neither of you has fully acknowledged. But as your eyes meet, the air shifts. You loop your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as the two of you make your way into the theater together. A camera flash goes off, and you smile. But this time, with Pedro by your side, it feels a little less lonely.

•••

You were sitting at a table when a fellow actor and friend started talking about you on stage. It was surreal, like time had slowed down, and you found yourself lost in thought. You’d been to countless awards shows and accepted more than your share of accolades, but this one felt different. A recognition of not just a role or a single performance, but a lifetime of work—or at least, a decade of it. And you were still young. Too young, part of you thought, for this kind of tribute. Yet here you were, about to be honored in front of your peers, the people who had seen your highs and lows.

The screen flickered to life, and a montage of your work began to play. Scenes from movies that had shaped your career, close-ups of moments that had shaped you. A smile here, a tear there, moments of triumph and vulnerability.

It was oddly like watching your life flash before your eyes—a strange out-of-body experience, as if you were looking back at someone else's journey. The montage moved through the years, capturing not just the characters you played but the changes in you—subtle at first, then more pronounced. The younger you, still full of raw hope and untamed energy, compared to the more seasoned version, who had learned how to navigate the treacherous terrain of fame. It felt like a snapshot of your life in fast-forward, as if you were witnessing your own eulogy.

You breathed in deeply, trying to stay present. It wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself.

The applause was thunderous as the montage ended, and it wasn’t until your name was called that reality snapped back into focus.

You stepped out into the blinding lights, the weight of the moment settling in as you approached the podium. The sea of faces before you blurred slightly in the brightness, but you could make out familiar ones. Peers you respected, younger actors looking up at you with wide eyes, veterans who had paved the way before you. And somewhere out there, you knew Pedro was watching.

With trembling hands, you held the award, the metal cool against your palm. You took a breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“This is... overwhelming,” you began, chuckling, your voice breaking slightly from the emotion of it all. “I don’t even know where to start. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and to the people who supported me through the ups and downs. This means more than I can put into words.”

You paused, scanning the room, catching sight of Pedro for just a second, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that grounded you.

“When I started this journey, I was just a kid with big dreams and very little understanding of how hard this industry could be,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “But I learned early on that dreams don’t work unless you do. It’s not just about talent—it’s about determination, grit, and pushing through even when everything seems impossible.”

Your eyes drifted toward the younger faces in the audience. “To the younger actors out there, keep going. I know it can feel like the world is telling you no at every turn, like you’re not good enough or that you’ll never make it, but don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop working. This industry can be brutal, but it can also be beautiful. Find the beauty. Hold onto it. Work for it.”

A wave of applause broke out, but you weren’t finished yet. You felt a pull, a need to say more, something from the heart. Something real.

“And through all of it,” you said, your voice softer now, “keep the people who truly love you close. In this business, it’s easy to get lost in the noise, in the hundreds of things that try to tear you down or make you feel like you’re not enough. But the people who love you for who you are, not what you can give them, are the ones who will keep you grounded. I’ve met some of my forever people in this industry, and for that, I’m grateful. Despite all the bad and all the heartache that comes with this life, it’s those relationships that make it worthwhile.”

Your gaze wandered again, unconsciously searching the crowd for Pedro, and when your eyes met his, something inside you softened. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the weight of those words better than anyone.

“I’m grateful,” you continued, your voice a little more vulnerable now, “because I’ve been able to hold on to those people. Even when things get complicated even when it feels like the world is pushing us apart. You have to fight for those connections. They’re what make this crazy, beautiful life worth living.”

You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through it, finishing with, “So thank you. To the people in my life who have stuck with me through the good and the bad. This is as much yours as it is mine.”

March 5th, 2020

Calgary, Canada

Life after the awards ceremony didn’t feel much different than before. It was still the same relentless rhythm—work, events, travel, more work. The brief moments of peace in between became rare and fleeting, like whispers in the storm of your career. Daniel’s season was supposed to start soon, and though you’d seen him twice after he flew to France for preparations, something between you felt... off. His distance was palpable, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on it too much. It was easier to stay busy, keep moving, and brush it off as a phase. After all, the both of you were pulled in so many directions—when was the last time anything felt normal?

A quiet dinner in your NYC apartment, one of the few times Daniel managed to swing by in between training sessions. The table was set with takeout boxes instead of a home-cooked meal—neither of you had the energy for anything more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, watching him as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I miss this,” you added.

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel said, but the words were like dust on the air—insubstantial, weightless.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet," you trailed off, unsure of how to breach the distance you felt growing between you.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind with the season coming up. It’s…you know, a lot of pressure.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. “You’re going to be great. You always are.”

He gave you that familiar smile, but it still felt like something was slipping through your fingers.

•••

By March, you had flown to Calgary to shoot a horror-adjacent film. The setting—a desolate cabin in the snow, miles from anywhere—was perfect for the kind of chilling atmosphere the director was aiming for. You’d always loved working with indie directors; their stories had depth, innovation, and a sense of grounded reality that the big-budget productions sometimes lacked. It was a reminder of why you fell in love with acting in the first place.

On set, things moved fast. Between takes, you found a quiet corner of the cabin and pulled out your phone to FaceTime with Taylor. She was mid-ranting when she answered.

“There’s a potential shutdown happening, babe. Something about a virus…COVID, or whatever they’re calling it. Have you heard anything about it?”

You’d heard whispers from the crew, but nothing had been confirmed. “I’ve heard some talk around set, but no one knows what’s happening yet.”

“Well, I’m telling you now, it’s serious. This might be the last project you get to work on for a while. Everything else is likely to be delayed. Keep your eyes open.”

You sighed, looking around as the crew moved around with their usual buzz of energy.

“Guess I’ll enjoy this last bit of freedom while I can.”

Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, enjoy it while you’re in the middle of nowhere. Call me if you hear anything else.”

You ended the call and pocketed your phone, the unease settling into your chest. Everyone around the set seemed unfazed, but the air had undoubtedly changed.

By the final days of production, the world was different. Everyone wore face masks, and hand sanitizer became the reigning deity on set.

•••

Reality hit hard. Flights were cancelled. No one could leave. You were stuck in the cabin, snow piling up outside like a barricade against the world, while the virus barricaded you from returning home. You made a grocery run the minute things got a little hectic, filling the place with more supplies than you’d ever seen yourself buy—just in case. The panic in the air was contagious, and chaos reigned for those first two weeks.

You FaceTimed your mom as you unpacked. “I’m stuck in Canada,” you said, laughing softly despite the anxiety that gnawed at your insides.

“Are you serious?” her voice was a mix of worry and exasperation. “You should’ve been back by now. What about New York?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back. Airports are closed.”

She sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. “Just take care of yourself, honey, alright? Don’t be reckless. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine."

Her voice softened. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I promise.”

•••

It was a particularly dark, cold afternoon. The kind where the sky hung low with thick clouds and the cold crept in through the cracks of the cabin no matter how many layers you wore. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, the silence of isolation pressing down heavier than usual when your phone buzzed on the table.

Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, but you couldn’t ignore him. Not yet. So you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear, forcing a soft, casual, “Hey.”

His voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent to it—a kind of distance that had been growing for months. "Hey," he replied, his Aussie accent tinged with something heavy. "How’s it going over there?"

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “You know… same. Snowed in. A lot of waiting.” There was an awkward pause. You filled it with a half-hearted laugh. “How about you? Everything alright?”

He cleared his throat, and you could feel the shift before he even said it. “Actually… I don’t think we should keep this up.”

The words hit you like the cold outside, seeping into your bones, but not with shock—just a kind of muted inevitability. There it is, you thought, the final crack in what was already falling apart.

Your brain hummed with white noise after that. You don’t remember what you said in response, something vague like, “Yeah, I get it.” The words came out on autopilot, and you weren’t really listening anymore. It wasn’t traumatic; it wasn’t the kind of breakup that destroyed you. It was like slowly waking from a dream and realizing it had already ended before you even opened your eyes.

His voice was kind, soft—too soft. “You’re so great, you know that, right? This just… it wasn’t working anymore. For either of us.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. Your mind was elsewhere—on the conversations with Pedro, on the way your heart leaped when you heard his voice instead of Daniel’s. You had known, deep down, for a while now where your heart really was.

“I guess we knew this was coming,” you finally managed, voice steady, as if you were discussing something as simple as the weather.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But still… I didn’t want it to hurt.”

The niceties and the polite words that followed hurt more than any fight ever could have. It was the kindness of it that made it sting—the acknowledgment that neither of you had it in you to fight for something that had already drifted away. There was no anger, no raised voices, no accusations.

Just two people who had loved each other briefly, now saying goodbye like they were parting ways at an airport terminal.

“Well, take care of yourself, alright?” Daniel said softly.

“You too,” you whispered, already feeling the weight of finality.

And then it was over. The phone went silent in your hand, and you stared at the screen as if it could offer you some kind of closure that you weren’t sure you needed.

•••

The days began to bleed into one another. You were alone in that cabin—snowed in and quarantined from the world. The only connection you had was through your phone, through calls with Sarah and Oscar, who checked in on you daily.

Most days, you found ways to pass the time. You read, you cooked—burned some things, too—and found yourself sitting by the old piano that had come with the cabin. Your fingers brushed against the keys, unsure at first, after so much time spent focusing on acting. But the music came swiftly, like muscle memory. The songs poured out of you, stories in lyrical form, shaped by the silence and solitude around you.

But some nights, the quiet was too loud.

The breakup with Daniel lingered in the back of your mind like a dull ache. You had been okay with it for the most part; you knew it was coming, and neither of you were in it anymore. But there were nights, like tonight, when the weight of it crashed down and the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. You lay in bed, tears wetting the pillow, thinking about how everything had ended in polite goodbyes when maybe you needed the screaming.

•••

One day, in the middle of baking—flour dusting your hands and a bowl of half-mixed batter sitting on the counter—you received a text: “I hope you’re doing okay.”

You stared at it, your heart skipping a beat. You had thought about him every single day and wondered how he was coping and whether he was safe. Anytime Sarah called, you asked about him, telling yourself that it was enough to know from a distance. But now, with that simple text, you caved.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

His reply came almost immediately. “Not really. Mostly lonely.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how hard it was for him to be alone. He thrived off people, off energy. And now, the world had gone still.

“Wanna talk?” you typed, holding your breath.

“Would love to hear your voice,” came the reply.

So you called him, and the hours melted away as you both talked about everything—about the virus, about work, about how isolating it all was. He asked, finally, “How’s Daniel?”

You hesitated. “We’re no longer together. Haven’t been for a while.”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

You quickly changed the subject, but it lingered between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what that meant. After that, you spoke almost every day. The isolation became less suffocating, and with each call, you both felt a little less alone.

•••

On Pedro’s birthday, you baked a cupcake in his honor, lighting a single candle before FaceTiming him. When he picked up, he laughed, “You made me a cupcake?”

“Of course I did,” you said with a grin, holding up the tiny treat. “Now, pretend to blow out the candle.”

He played along, puffing his cheeks and making a ridiculous show of it. “Thank you for this. It’s not much of a birthday without people.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, singing an off-key version of Happy Birthday. His laughter filled the space between you.

Later that night, he posted a screenshot of your call on his Instagram story, and the internet lost its mind. Comments flooded in—"Omg, she baked him a cupcake!"—“My favorite best friends!”—and you laughed at the attention it brought.

•••

One evening, as you sat at the piano again, your phone propped up with Pedro on FaceTime, he listened quietly as you played a new melody. “I think the lyrics need work,” you said, biting your lip.

He smirked. “Let me hear them.”

You hummed the first few lines, fumbling over the phrasing. “See, it doesn’t quite flow.”

“Let’s try this,” Pedro suggested, offering a line.

By the end of the night, the song felt whole, and you felt lighter.

The days passed—isolated and cold—but your connection with Pedro was alive and warm again. And as the weeks stretched on, you couldn’t help but wonder: How long until you fucked this up again?

October 5, 2020

Budapest, Hungary

Pedro had always known loneliness. It was a quiet, persistent companion, but in Budapest, it had taken on a new form. The city was beautiful, its streets old and layered with history, but none of it could distract him from the hollow ache in his chest. The early mornings on set, the long hours of filming—the work was steady. But outside of that, the hours stretched endlessly.

He had been filming in Europe for months, and though he loved his job, the thrill of creating something special—the distance—both physical and emotional—was wearing him thin. He had been keeping in touch with you, his constant thread of connection. The texts, the occasional FaceTime calls, were easy and comforting. But he could never shake the weight of what he hadn’t told you. What you didn't allow him to say. It felt like a brick in his stomach.

You lived strangely in his head.

He still hadn’t found the courage to say the words. I love you. They haunted him—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Every time he thought he was ready, he backtracked, swallowing the confession whole. His cowardice infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been in love with you for years, the feelings growing stronger and deeper, but now… now you were thousands of miles away, and he was stuck in this self-made purgatory.

His thoughts often drifted to his mother lately. She had always known how to comfort him, her voice soothing, her advice simple but profound. What would she have said about you? About his inability to speak the truth? He could hear her in his head, telling him to stop being such a fool, to just go for it. But she wasn’t here anymore, and he felt lost without her, more than he ever let on.

The days on set were repetitive but engaging. The crew was tightknit, and the project was exciting. He threw himself into work, hoping it would distract him. He laughed with the cast, bantered with the director, but when the camera wasn’t rolling, his mind was elsewhere. It was with you.

•••

A few weeks later, after wrapping up in Budapest, he found himself in Switzerland alone again. He didn’t know why he’d come. The scenery was breathtaking, the mountains vast and quiet, but the isolation magnified the emptiness he felt. It was as if everything had come to a standstill.

The stillness weighed on him. The quiet, once a solace, now felt oppressive. He spent his days wandering the small towns, drinking coffee in hidden cafés, trying to convince himself that the solitude was a gift. But he felt shattered, more broken than before.

One night, the loneliness became too much, and he called you. Desperation tightened his throat as he waited for you to pick up, his mind screaming at him to just tell you. The phone rang, and when you answered, your voice was soft, familiar, and full of comfort.

"Pedro," you said, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

His breath caught, and the confession lodged itself in his throat again. He had been ready, so ready, but hearing you—he thought better of it. What could he say that wouldn’t ruin everything?

"Hey," he replied, his voice rougher than intended. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

You chuckled softly on the other end. "You good?"

"Yeah, I’m good," he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. "Just…miss talking to you, that’s all."

"I miss you too," you said, and it broke him a little more. The call went on, but he had already retreated into himself, too afraid to say what needed to be said. He listened to you talk about your day, your laugh filling the silence on his end, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing—failing himself, failing you.

•••

The next day, he went for a walk. The air was cold, biting, but it didn’t bother him. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the cobbled streets, past quaint houses with shuttered windows, and let the weight of his feelings wash over him. It was overwhelming. His history with you, all the unsaid things, all the moments when he should have acted and didn’t. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.

He found a bench and sat, his head in his hands. One day, he thought. One day, I’ll tell her.

December 31st, 2020

New York, NY 

The phone call from Oscar came two weeks before New Year's Eve. His voice was warm, as it always was, but there was an unmistakable edge of hope in it, the kind that crept in after months of isolation.

“It’s just something small,” he had said. You could hear his smile through the phone, that charming grin he always wore. “Not a lot of people, you know. Just family and close friends. After the last few months we've had… I think we need this.”

You hadn’t seen Oscar in person in what felt like forever, and the idea of being with people—Oscar’s people, your people—sounded like a balm to the soul. You agreed before he could finish the invitation, the excitement bubbling up despite the world still not feeling quite right.

You got tested later that week, making sure you were safe to attend the gathering.

When you arrived at Oscar’s apartment, the city had an eerie quiet to it. New York was never still, even during the pandemic, but tonight it felt subdued, like it was holding its breath for something more. You headed for the entrance, and the soft sound of music spilled out the moment the doors opened.

Oscar met you with his arms wide open, pulling you into a tight hug. “Look who finally made it,” he teased, his face lighting up in that familiar way. “You look good.”

“You too,” you said, stepping back and taking in the warmth of the room. It was intimate—just the right amount of people to make you feel at home, but not so many that it felt overwhelming.

Before you could take another step, Sarah swooped in, stealing you from Oscar’s embrace with an exaggerated squeal. She enveloped you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe.

“I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and the reunion felt like a weight lifting off your chest. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, your laughter blending in with the soft chatter around the room.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. He had arrived a little late, typical of him, but the sight of him sent your heart into a dizzying spin. It had been almost a year since you last saw each other in person.

He moved through the room, and when he finally made his way toward you, your breath hitched. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his toned chest. His hair was longer, fluffy from the months of lockdown, and his big brown eyes—usually so full of light —looked tired.

But when he saw you, the weariness seemed to lift for a moment.

He said your name softly, stepping close. His arms opened, and you fell into them without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him in a way that felt too familiar, too safe. He held you tight, his grip lingering longer than necessary, like he was afraid to let go.

“Hey,” you breathed against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—pleasant, familiar, grounding. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you. You pulled back slightly, looking into his face, wanting to say something—anything. You couldn’t live without thinking about him. He consumed your every thought, and somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with how you felt about him.

But the words stuck in your throat.

“At last, we see each other,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, his hand still on your back.

“At last,” you repeated, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You both opened your mouths to speak, then laughed in unison.

"You first," Pedro said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though there was something deeper there—something lingering just beneath the surface.

But before you could say anything more, Sarah reappeared, her arm hooking through yours as she dragged you away. “Sorry! I need to steal her for a sec,” she said with a laugh, oblivious to the quiet intensity of the moment she’d interrupted.

Pedro smiled at her, though his eyes flicked back to you. "What I wanted to say can wait," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise that sent a jolt through you.

You promised yourself you’d find him later.

•••

In the kitchen, you and Sarah were rummaging through cabinets for more drinks when you heard Oscar’s booming laugh. Turning, you spotted him and Pedro, who now had a ridiculous pointy birthday hat perched on his head. You burst into laughter at the sight, unable to resist.

“Cute hat,” you said, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “Let’s document this moment.”

He grinned, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and pulling him in for the picture. Pedro tilted his head, drinking from his beer, and Oscar looked up at him with a puzzled expression as you snapped a photo.

“Perfect. That’s going on Instagram for sure,” you teased, and Pedro groaned.

Before anyone could respond, Oscar’s wife walked by, eyeing the hat on Pedro’s head with mock suspicion. Pedro took his cue, unlocking from Oscar and jokingly attacking her with the pointy hat, poking her side with the plastic tip. You snapped another picture, laughing as she swatted him away.

“Send that to me,” she called over her shoulder, and you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket just as Sarah handed you a drink.

•••

The night continued, the energy in the room bubbling up as the countdown to midnight approached. Karaoke had started in one of the rooms, and you couldn’t resist.

Pedro avoided it at all costs, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression. After your rendition of Losing My Religion, he caught your eye.

“That was something, huh?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I was extra terrible just for you,” you shot back, walking over to him. “I know how much you hate this.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” he said.

Just as you were about to respond, a woman’s voice broke through the moment. “Oscar said you were in here,” she said, stepping forward. “Hi.”

You turned to see her approach Pedro, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A casual, intimate gesture that sent a shock of realization through your entire body.

You blink, dumbfounded, as Pedro shifted slightly to make introductions. “This is Julia,” he said, his voice a little too calm for the turmoil suddenly spinning inside you.

Your mind raced, trying to place her. And then it hit you—she was in the group photos he posted from the crew of the movie he was filming in Budapest. One of the producers, you think.

Oh.

Julia greeted you happily, oblivious to the terrible ache now pooling in your chest. You felt your throat tighten, the words you had wanted to say earlier were now swallowed by this unfamiliar wave of jealousy and disappointment. You went mute, unable to find words that wouldn’t betray how much this hurt.

Pedro’s voice broke the silence again, almost too nonchalant. “This is what I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh, great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you didn’t feel.

“And you?” Pedro asked, clearly trying to keep things light. “You said you wanted to talk, too.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mind screamed for you to say something—anything—but all you could muster was, “No, um, it was nothing, really.”

Something stung deep inside you. It was a dull ache, gnawing away at your resolve. You needed a way out. Fast.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you said to her, your voice tight. “If you’ll excuse me…”

And before either of them could say anything more, you slipped away, making a beeline for the kitchen where Oscar stood.

“Hey,” you blurted, pulling him aside. “He’s fucking dating someone? And you didn’t say a thing?”

Oscar looked at you, taken aback. “I—it wasn’t my news to share.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to swallow the embarrassment. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I just… I can't believe I was about to confess my love for him and make a fool of myself. Again.”

Oscar stared at you, his eyebrows raised. “You were what?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah. But now? I mean, clearly, it’s just another sign. The timing’s never right. Never.”

Was it punishment? you thought.

Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain of what to say. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed another drink. “Here,” he said quietly, offering it to you.

You took it, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass.

"It’s fairly new, you know," Oscar said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Like two weeks or something. It’s not serious yet."

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “I don’t.”

Oscar sighed, his hand finding your back, a comforting weight that helped ground you. “I know. I know.”

You knew there was else nothing you could do right now, so you poured the drink down your throat, feeling the burn as it went down.

•••

“There you are,” Pedro called softly, his voice muffled by the cold air as he stepped through the glass doors onto the backyard patio. The wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but the bitter cold felt fitting, almost poetic.

You stood there, your back to him, a silhouette against the frozen horizon. For a moment, he was transported back to the first time he saw you in this very spot, under a much different sky. That night, the air had been warm, filled with the kind of anticipation that crackled with every glance exchanged. You had stood just like this, dressed similarly too, arms crossed against the world, hair cascading down your back like a curtain he desperately wanted to pull aside.

But tonight was different. Tonight, your shoulders were tense, hunched against more than just the cold. When you turned around, your face wasn’t full of curiosity. It was distant, your eyes heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that he knew he was responsible for.

"You bolted out of there," Pedro said, his voice strained as he tried to sound casual, but the worry leaked through.

You gave a soft, bitter hum, a sound he couldn’t decipher but felt in his bones. "I was a bit shocked, honestly."

He swallowed, suddenly nervous, fumbling with the words he had rehearsed in his mind so many times but never managed to say. "I know. I wanted to tell you about her, I just... I don’t know. It’s new. I didn’t think it was important enough yet. I thought I’d find the right moment, but it never felt... appropriate. And I didn’t want to make things weird, you know?"

Pedro kept talking, words spilling out as he tried to explain. He mentioned her name—Julia—said they had met on set, that it wasn’t serious yet, that it had barely even begun. His voice grew quieter, more unsure with every sentence, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

See, Pedro hadn't planned on getting into a relationship, not when his every thought was consumed by you, not when he knew he loved you, and yet here he was. He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

But your expression had already changed. He could see the way your face shut down, the way your gaze hardened, and it twisted something deep inside him.

“Don’t apologize to me about your relationship,” you said, the words sharp and cutting. “That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel like I’m some kind of Machiavellian villain.”

Pedro winced, his breath catching in his throat. He hated this. But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice lower, more controlled.

"Our time never seems to align, does it? It never has, and it never will. It's funny, even.” You paused, looking away, your voice a strained whisper.

Pedro wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that he felt trapped between his own heart and the razor-sharp edge of what was right, what was fair. The guilt and longing were choking him, twisting his insides until all he could feel was the jagged ache of wanting something that was always just out of reach.

You took a deep breath, the cold air clouding in front of you like smoke.

"Are you happy?" you asked, your voice barely audible. A mirror of his very own "Do you love him?" from last year.

Pedro looked at you, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m trying,” he said quietly, the truth in the words landing hard.

You nodded, your lips pressed together in a sad, resigned smile.

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

It was an unspoken agreement—a quiet acceptance that, once again, you were not meant to be. That your lives had written this story long before you’d ever had a say in it.

a/n: enough sadness, their time will come soon ;)

a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3

[l0ve-bug-m1les]

hii I was wondering if you could write a

miles morales x male! reader

where the two kiss because they’re curious about their sexuality and that leads to them finding out they aren’t exactly as straight as they initially thought

Ahhhh this is such a good idea!!! Thank you so much!!

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

The Answer Sitting in Front of Me

Miles Morales x Male!Reader

Summary: All questions have an answer to find. You just didn’t think you’d find yours in your best friends lips…

Warnings: No actual warnings, just two teenagers figuring themselves out!

It’s the final class of the day, and you’re struggling to stay awake. This isn’t like you, considering the fact you normally go to bed at a decent time so at the end of the day, you’re pretty awake. But today was different. Or rather, last night was different. Recently, you’ve been having…doubts about yourself. Specifically your sexuality. So to—hopefully—get your answer, you spent all night on Google searching up different tests, articles, and videos to answer your burning question. But alas, flashy Buzzfeed quizzes aren’t the remedy you hoped for. So now you’re just here. Tired, ready to get back to the dorms, and still unsure.

A crumpled up piece of paper lands onto your desk. You know exactly who it’s from as you open the note and read it.

"Hey, you don't look so good. Are you alright?”

“Damn, I look so tired you can tell from behind me..” You reply, and ball the note back up as you nonchalantly stretch your arms and drop the note onto his desk. This is how close you and Miles are. It’s easy to tell how the other is feeling just from body language. But at the same time, it wouldn’t take a genius to tell you’re pretty out of it today. You patiently wait for his reply as your teacher drones on and on about something you’ve forgotten about and, frankly, don’t care for. The note returns.

“Yeah. But for real, you’re normally pretty awake when we’re about to leave. What’s wrong?”

You think for a long time. You couldn’t possibly just tell him you’re going through a sexuality crisis! It’d put your relationship in jeopardy! A sigh escapes your lips as you try to think of a bluff, only to scrap the idea knowing Miles would catch it and hound you until you cave in. But what could you possibly say? “Oh, yeah, i think I’m gay and stayed up all night thinking about it. No biggie.” Yeah, right. But at the same time, he opened up to you about him being Spider-Man, so why can’t you just explain your problem to him? “Because he’d hate you.” is the lie your brain is plagued with. You know Miles isn’t homophobic and you know he’d probably just try to help you out. You’ve been through thick and thin with him. He can trust you, and you can trust him.

You realize you’re taking too long when another note flies onto your desk. You don’t read it and just answer the other one: “It’s kinda complicated. Swing by my room when you get a chance, alright?” You toss it back and refocus your attention to the lesson.

It'll be alright.

Right?

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

Time flies and you’re now sitting at your desk in your dorm. Your roommate’s off to who knows where, so you’re by yourself just waiting for that fateful tap on your window from Miles. Normally after school he’ll do some spider stuff before coming back and chilling out for the rest of the day, most of the time with you. That is, unless some guy tries to wreck havoc on Brooklyn, and it’s up to Miles to take them down. As much as it sucks when he has to leave, you admire how dedicated and passionate he is about doing what’s right and protecting what he loves most. You also appreciate how much he’s helped you throughout the school year. High school is no joke, and there have been some times when you felt like all was hopeless. But with Miles there, you came out of those slumps for the better. You also admire the way his eyes shine with that cheeky glow when he says an exceptionally cheesy joke, with that charming smile to go with it. And his kinda cute laugh and—

Oh no.

You groan and lean back in your chair. It’s those thoughts again. The very thoughts that have you so tired and confused. The line between admiration for guys and attraction towards guys has been blurred and now you’re not sure if there even is a difference for you. You close your eyes and continue to think before a shadow blocks out the sun and you hear a knock at the window. “Here we go..” you think to yourself as you unlock the window and open it for Miles.

"How you been?" Miles says as he steps through with that same sweet enthusiasm. He’s not in his Spider-Man suit so you figure all went well. “I’ve just been chilling out,” you say and sit back down, “nothing too exciting.”

He hums in response before taking a seat on your bed. “So what was it you needed to explain that was so complicated? Don’t tell me you’re having an identity crisis!” he jokes. You don’t smile because that’s exactly what it is. He notices the change in your demeanor and grows worried. “Ah..I see,” he looks over you for any hints as to what’s bothering you, “uhm…would you feel comfortable explaining?” he asks.

You take a long moment to think. Is this really a good idea? Should you even tell him? It’s not like you’re confessing to him so bad how could it be? You take a slow, long breath in, and release it just as slow. “I think….i think i like guys…” You finally say. “And i spent all night trying to figure that out, which is why i was so tired in class today.”

Well there it is. It’s out.

You both sat in silence and stared at each other for a long moment. Miles looked like he was in disbelief. Great, you blew it. You go to try and reverse the damage before Miles speaks up.

“Wait, really?! You too?!” He exclaims much to your surprise. You too? Wait so does he…

“You’ve been thinking the same thing?” You ask him.

“Yeah! Like, all the time!”

This is some news. You thought he was gonna try to leave and awkwardly forget about the situation. Never did you consider the possibility of him thinking the same thing. But now what? You know he’s possibly not straight like you, but what are you supposed to do with this information? Honestly you didn’t think you’d make this far. “So,” you speak up, “what now? I mean, we’ve got the same problem. How do we solve it?” A good move on your end. Not too leading, but leading enough to keep the conversation going without you both just changing the subject.

“Uhm…have you ever kissed a girl before?” He asks, his eyes avoiding yours.

“No, why?"

"Well, i was just thinking we could..." he trails off, hoping you get the memo.

"Think we could—“ you’re cut off by the realization hitting you— “Oh…i…get what you’re saying. Kiss and compare how it feels when we kiss a girl, right?”

He sheepishly nods. “Yeah, but neither of us have kissed a girl so it wouldn’t work.” His eyes fall to the floor, and you’re stuck looking at the wall. A kiss? Would that really work? Maybe neither of you need to have kissed a girl—or anyone else for that matter—to see compare how it feels when you kiss a boy. You’re a boy. He’s a boy. Why should you have any prior experience? But is it a good idea? What if you like it, but he doesn’t? There’s only one way to find out..

Forget words. You get up and stand in front of Miles. Your hands find a spot on his face and they stay there as you look deep into his eyes. A question. A silent way of asking for permission when words aren’t good enough. He nods and you lean in, gently bringing his face to yours.

After what feels like an eternity, your lips meet. At first you’re both hesitant, but it’s as if a spark went through you both as you relax and lean in to the kiss. Miles holds your hands on his face and let’s the kiss linger for a moment longer than you both thought it’d last. It’s the sweetest first kiss one could have. The world only starts to spin again when you both pull away, practically breathless.

"Did…did that answer your question?" Miles asks, his voice soft.

"Yeah. Did it answer yours?”

Miles nods and leans in again for another kiss with more confidence. His hands find yours and he brings you down onto the bed to sit beside him, before slowly pulling away again.

“Yeah…” he breathes.

You’re a lot more awake now.

🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸 🌸~~🌸

[ponderingmoonlight]

Prompt #15 with Megumi? Rivals to lovers with happy ending please ♥️

There you go, I'm so so sorry this took so long <3 I hope you still enjoy it, I find it quite hard to write enemies to lovers under 5000 words :D

Opposites attract

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Synopsis: Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Warnings: Megumi is an ass from time to time, language

„Why am I here, blindworm?“

There you sit, sloughing on your chair at the classroom, feet stretched out in front of you. Damn, you were taking the best nap of your life when your stupid sensei came storming in and woke you up rudely. He surely wants to send you on another mission – hopefully alone. If you have to work with one of these losers again, you break off.

Especially him.

God, you truly hated Megumi Fushiguro. His quiet way, tall figure and calculating personality. He is quite the opposite of your outspoken, confident and risky self. Maybe that’s why you two don’t get along at all. And maybe that’s the reason why you always end up together. Hopefully not today…

“As charming as ever, I like that. I have a mission for you, (y/n)!”, Gojo cries out in joy.

“Again? I just returned from one. Remember?”

“I remember that you wiped the floor with Megumi’s ass, even though that wasn’t exactly the task”, he replies dryly.

“Yeah, that was fun.”

Both you and Megumi are grade 2 sorcerers while being in your first school year, which means that you can basically carry out missions alone but are happily sent together by Gojo for more complicated matters – much to your chagrin and probably his. So whenever you get the chance to give Megumi a hard time you gladly seize the opportunity.

“Don’t be so rough, I know you have a sweet spot for charming boys like him.”

Oh, you know all too well that your sensei just wants to get on your nerves. But as soon as he mentions positive feelings towards a coward like Megumi, you can’t help but explode.

“Shut up, ew! I have no sweet spot for anybody!”

“Yeah, everyone here knows that”, Megumi’s low voice mumbles behind you.

“You.”

Your voice is shaking in venom while the vein on your forehead threatens to pop out any minute.

“What the hell is that loser doing here?”, you groan, face completely twisted in annoyance.

You just knew it. Seems like it’s Satoru’s favorite job to annoy the shit out of you by always putting the two of you together.

“Come on, give me Panda. Or what about Maki? Some girl-power would be nice. But not that”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. Remember the last time when I saved your puny figure from getting eaten alive by that curse? You’re probably the worst and cruelest person I’ve ever met”, Megumi barks back in annoyance.

“I don’t mind being the villain in your story because you’re a clown in mine, Fushiguro.”

“That was the nicest conversation you two had in a long time, great! Now let’s get to work, I’m sure you’re doing just fine my children!”, Gojo interrupts while hugging you both.

Is there a way out of this madness? Maybe you can pretend you’re sick, too weak to go on a mission. But that’s not your standard and you know that. Giving Megumi the satisfaction of staying at home while he gets beaten up isn’t an option.

“Maybe I’m lucky and you die on me”, you mumble under your breath, storming out of the room faster than Megumi can follow past Yuji who just stares at you in awe.

God, Megumi hates you so much. How can a person be so full of herself? Yes, your abilities are quite outstanding, your curse technique is very good for being a first class student and to be honest you are actually pretty handsome, but the problem is that you are very aware of those facts. And you make no bones rubbing that into everyone’s face – especially his. His stolen glance is set on your back. You do have a really nice figure, feminine curves even though you train several hours a day. Yes, really attractive.

He shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he thinking? You are the crappiest person he knows, everything about you is disgusting, he hates you!

“Wow, they really hate each other”, Yuji comments, eyes following the two of you in disbelief.

“No, they don’t. Trust me, this is something completely different. And I love nothing more than teasing that out”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop breathing so loud, Fushiguro.”

Kiyotaka can’t help but glance at you in the rearview mirror, too stunned to speak by your nonsensical words. Why does Gojo keep sending the two of you on missions together? The air in the car is so thick that it could be sliced by a katana.

“Rot in hell, (y/n).”

He never heard such cruel words come out of Megumi’s mouth except when you are around.

“I’m already there, you’re here after all”, you bark back.

“Stop fighting you two, we’re almost there.”

Your gaze wanders around the rainy area. Somehow he’s right, you should focus on your mission. The fact that two of you were sent here can only mean that it’s going to get ugly. Once again it’s about a school, once again a lot of young people are dying. You need to stop this madness.

“There you are, I’ll create the curtain now. Good look you two.”

“Skilled people don’t need luck, but maybe it’ll help you Megumi.”

His blood boils in anger, just a glimpse into your stupid pretty faces challenges his self-control all over. Who do you think you are?

“What’s wrong with you? Can you just pull yourself together until we ended this mission? I hate you too, but now we have to work”, Megumi smacks into your direction.

“Always the good boy, such a role model! I want to puke in your face, it makes me fucking sick!”, you challenge him, watching as his facial expression darkens with every word.

“You.”

With a swift motion, you’re trapped against the wall by his body. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the thick air between you two, the way he pins your wrists against the brick wall makes…sparks fly. You can’t help but notice his striking blue eyes when he glares down at you, the warmth that radiates from his body along with his delicious scent. Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why is your face heating up under his gaze, why does it feel so…good to feel his frame pressed against your own? His lips suddenly look so inviting, so warm and soft. But no, you hate him, you hate Megumi since you first met, he is everything you despise reincarnated in one person. God, he annoys you so badly, you need to get out of his grip, you need to-

“Stop it. I’m serious”, he gasps against your face, lips so close to your own that you can feel his breath brush against your now prickly skin.

Fuck, you see stars. His grip around your wrist tightens, his face is getting closer to yours. Will he…? No, that’s impossible, Megumi hates you with all his heart, he told you over and over again. And you hate him too since the moment you first laid your eyes on him. But why…why do you feel the urge to press your lips against his?

“Or what?”

Your voice is suddenly so soft and vulnerable. God, you look so adorable with that pink blush creeping up your cheeks, lips parted and doe eyes wide open. That desire, that urge to brush his lips against yours seems to become unbearable. Just once, just this one damn time. Just to prove to himself how disgusting you are.

Boom.

It happens faster than any of you can react. The wall behind you explodes and buries you under its rubble.

You are instantly greeted by scorching pain consuming your whole body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood streams down your face like a waterfall, your right leg aches in the most disgusting way imaginable.

“Fuck, are you alright (y/n)?”, Megumi screams, eyes widen in horror.

So much blood. Your whole body seems to be covered in crimson. Even though you’re not screaming or even groaning, he can clearly see the shock creeping up your eyes when realization hits you. But he has to focus on that curse. Yes, he needs to take care of that before he can help you.

You desperately try to free yourself from the debris that threatens to crush your body while Megumi fights off the curse that seems to be responsible for all of this. As usual, his facial expression is dead serious while his little shikigami work for him.

“How bad is it?”, he questions, eyes focused on the monster in front of him.

Your leg feels like burning alive, a little glance at your body is enough for you to realize that you are not well. Maybe even so critical that time is running out for you.

“It’s bad”, you hiss back while pressing your trembling hand against the gash in your thigh.

A few broken ribs, a laceration on the head, here and there some open wounds and abrasions – nothing too serious, you’ll get over that. But the giant gash in your thigh is definitely something else. Your leg was almost completely pierced by an iron rod. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem either if the bar was still in you, but it isn’t. And that’s why you’re bleeding out at the moment.

Finally that curse is gone. Just a look at you is enough to make Megumi turn pale in an instant. You’re sitting in a pool of your own blood, lids hanging heavy in your eyes. His heart skips a beat when realization hits him like a wall. You could die right here if he doesn’t do anything.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here”, he mumbles, hands on their way to grab your body.

“I don’t need your help, Fushiguro”, you growl at him.

“Are you sure? Cause it sure does look like it”, Megumi replies dryly and begins to inspect your wounds.

“If even half of that blood is yours you need to get out of here right now. I’m calling Gojo-sensei.”

“Everything hurts”, you blur out.

The sight of your terrified eyes makes Megumi’s heart sink in his chest. He has never seen you like this. But what’s even worse is the fact that he is so damn worried about you, that the thought of losing you alone makes his breath hitch.

“Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

His voice sounds so soft, echoes as sweet as honey in your ear.

“Megumi.”

His strong arms free you from the rest of the rubble above you and lift your numb body off the ground with ease. Your vision slowly but surely begins to get blurry, it gets so hard to keep your tired eyes open.

“What is it, (y/n)?”, he softly asks while maneuvering his shikigami around in order to find the other curses that have to be here.

“I don’t remember a moment where you were so kind to me”, you purr.

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t a single moment where you were so kind to me”, he remarks with a small smile.

“I h-have to say…That…That you’re not…t-that bad.”

Your words are a true mess, so quiet that he has to focus on your low voice in order to understand. But oh you look so lovely, wearing a soft smile on your lips and that tender gleam in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. Over and over, he told himself that he truly hates you, that you are an evil person that doesn’t deserve his affection. Always keen to hide his stolen glances and the way your sight makes him hold his breath. Your body, your brain, your everything. But seeing you like this, vulnerable laying in his hands, he can’t help but admire you. Admire a woman this strong and independent, a woman who never fears anything.

“You’re pretty okay too I guess”, he replies, hands wrapped tighter around your sagging body.

“How about staying awake for a little longer? I bet you can’t make it until we’re back at Jujutsu High.”

“I bet I will, asshole.”

____________________________________________________________

“She kept bugging me about telling you that she stayed awake to the end. And that you’re a loser.”

“So she’s fine, that’s great!”, Gojo proclaims and pads Megumi’s shoulder.

It was a close call, he knows it. And that sweet seconds just before the wall behind your back shattered…What was that? Affection? No, no, no. That’s simply not possible. You are the worst person walking on this planet. The thought of you alone makes his gut twist in disgust and heats up his face. You drive him crazy like no other. And the fact that you almost died and were a decent person for one second won’t change that.

“Should have left her there. I’m leaving”, Megumi mumbles and turns away.

Why was he here anyway? Shoko already stitched him up a few hours ago, he has no business being in the hospital wing. “Didn’t you want to visit her, Megumi-chan?”

“I would rather train with you than seeing her. Why would I care about her well-being?”, he remarks quickly.

Gojo and Shoko watch him as he storms out.

“Do they really think they hate each other?”

“Yup”, Gojo confirms.

The fresh air of the evening hits his face with full force. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way? He shouldn’t be worried about your well-being, he shouldn’t care at all about the fact that you are injured. After all, you put yourself in that situation. God, he just hates you so much. In his world, there’s no place for positive feelings towards you. But still… He stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the ground.

Why does he want to turn around, to let his feet carry him into the hospital room, to sit beside you? What is it that urges him to at least check on you? Pictures of you flood his mind. Your breathtaking smile, the stunning glimmer in your eyes, the confidence that’s dripping from your sweet voice. Why do you have to be so damn perfect and why the hell is his heart beating so fast by the thought of it alone?

As if in trance, he begins to walk back into the direction of the hospital wing, back where you are. He has to prove to himself how much he hates you just one more time. Just once…

He quietly sneaks past the room where he hears Shoko and Gojo still talking. If you have to stay for the night, you have to be down the corridor on the right. Over and over, he looks over his shoulder. If someone catches him sneaking up on you he might need to burry himself alive. All the jokes, the constant teasing from Gojo about you and him really get on his nerves. Why can’t they see that he fucking hates you?

There it is, the door to you. As noiseless as possible he opens it and gets immediately greeted by your gaze. You almost look surprised when he closes the door behind him again and awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, simply staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you comment dryly.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming either.”

“Did Shoko tell you that I stayed awake?”

“Sure.”

“And that you’re a loser?”

He gifts you with his most annoyed look.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you in person…”, you begin while nervously fumbling with your fingers.

This catches Megumi off guard. You always know what to say or react. How is it possible that you are jumpy? And to top it off, because of him?

“Why did you save me, Megumi?”

What on earth is going on? He scratches the back of his head, too stunned to speak. Are you serious?

“Just because you think I’m the bad guy doesn’t mean I am a bad guy, y’know”, he mumbles.

You let his words sink in, gaze never leaving his face. The last hours really showed you that Megumi isn’t as bad as you always tried to make yourself believe. He saved you despite all the things you said to him without even blinking, risking his own life to save yours. Maybe…maybe it isn’t even hatred you feel towards him.

But something completely different.

“I will never say this again but…I think you’re my favorite enemy”, you confess quietly with a small smile.

Megumi’s heart stops beating for a second, your sweet words triggering feelings in him he tried so hard to avoid. God, how many nights did he tell himself that you are no good, that he just has to hate you with all his heart? But…Is he really hating you though?

“I can probably give that back”, he mumbles.

For once in his life, Megumi sees nothing but your striking beauty and brain when his gaze meets yours. Maybe, just maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought you are. But why does he feel so strongly towards you? What the hell is wrong with his heart?

“Let me kiss you. Just once. Just to prove myself that I hate you”, he blurts out.

You hold your breath, dopamine, adrenalin and who knows what other hormones pump through your veins and leave you dizzy for a second. You didn’t just hallucinate him saying that, right? The sincerity in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

With fast steps he crosses the room, now standing in front of you. And then he bends down to your bed, grabs your face and kisses you so passionately that you forget how to breathe for a moment. Your tongue intertwines with his, dancing in the most delicate way while you hold onto his strong shoulders for support. Is this really happening or are you dreaming again? Just a few hours ago, you spat venom at him like every other month before. But this…This feels so much better than constantly insulting him and to pretend that you hate him with all your heart. You realize with all clarity of your intense kiss that you probably never really hated him. No, this feeling his completely different from disgust.  

He breaks away from you, panting hard just like you. Your glossy eyes look up to him, hands still resting against his shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I absolutely hate you”, he breathes out.

“I hate you too”, you moan before pulling him close with all force for another passionate kiss.

Maybe, just maybe Megumi Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

But just maybe.

_____________________________________________________________

Bonus:

“Oh, (y/n)! Are you feeling any better?”, Yuji shouts at you while waving you over.

“OMG, are you seeing this. Am I dreaming?”, Nobara mutters next to him, completely mesmerized by the sight of you and Megumi.

Are those shikigami? Your hand is intertwined with Megumi’s, the both of you walking next to each other and…smile? Since when exactly are you smiling at Fushiguro?

“What do you mean?...Wait, when the hell did this happen?”

“Megumi, I thought you hate (y/n)!”

“Would you two mind to stop staring at us like that? (y/n) and I are kind of a thing now”, Megumi explains briefly while stopping in front of both of his friends.

“Did he force you into this, (y/n)?”, Nobara whispers in your ear.

You let out a heartfelt laughter, the confusion of your friends matching with your own.

“This might be the worst decision I ever made, but let’s see how it all works out.”

Megumi gives you a reproachful look and squeezes your hand firmer. Oh, even in a relationship, there will always be that small part of him that hates you.

Along with the much bigger part that loves you with all his heart.

[the-universal-sun]

this is one of my favorite blogs 🥹

during the summer, i think dipper plays dd&md with ford when he is little. Little Ford's characters get super silly but dipper always takes it seriously and works it into the story. Mabel and ford make friendship bracelets and i think she would really help him with opening up and being vulnerable when regressed. Little ford always goes to mabel when he needs time in sweater town...

regressed stan and dipper do a lot of parallel play (for example, Lee watches TV while dipper writes in his journal) but they both like to hang out with each other regardless. Lee and mabel are always getting each other into trouble and making a mess whether it's cooking, glitterbombs, or pranking dipper and ford.

Thank you so much! I try to make the content I want to consume, but don’t have much of! Sorry this is so late, my anxiety and mental health has been really bad lately, and it’s been inexplicably worse these last couple of days haha. So hopefully writing this will make me and others feel a little bit better!

Little Ford does still loved Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons! He can’t do too complicated math, he’s still capable of it when little but he prefers simple math so that he doesn’t have to think so much. Sometimes Dipper will do the more complicated math for his just so Ford isn’t taken out of his headspace. But his characters are always a riot with Dipper, and Mabel and Stan when they can get those two to play, the backstories he comes up with and voices he does always has Dipper riveted, even if Ford’s characters aren’t as complicated and intense as they usually are. He obviously models them after his family members, Stanthar the rogue thief, who swindles travelers of their money and charms the pants off their foes. Diptantic, the elf sorcerer who’s voracious reading lends him knowledge of ancient magic. And Maybelle, the Bars who uplifts her companions and foes in song and dance, also charming the characters they come across with her cuteness. And of course, Ford’s research partner, Dr. Mittens, has his own place next to him, and Ford gives him his own character sheets, too! Dipper sometimes finds it awkward talking to a stuffed cat, but his Grunkle Ford is having fun, and his characters are pretty funny, plus it just makes Mabel and Stan more open to playing, and DDMD is better with more players.

Both Ford and Mabel are pretty creative, and Ford’s more inclined to her type of creativity when he’s little, and she loves making necklaces and bracelets with her little Grunkle! He’s not allowed to knit or crochet when he’s little, but he can still have some input on her designs and colors, he even helped her make their family sweaters! When they presented the sweaters to Stan and Dipper, Stan smiled so brightly, hugging Ford to his chest. Admittedly, Stan’s actions were more due to the happiness and exuberance on Ford’s face as he held up two orange sweaters with boats on them, one for each of them. Mabel’s really helped Ford become more confident in himself when Little. Little Ford does take a lead out of Mabel’s notebook when it comes to sweater town. Sometimes, when he gets bad thoughts about Bill, dimension hopping, or about missing Stan for 40 years, he’ll go find Stan, curl up in the biggest and baggiest sweater he has, plop down in his lap and just stay silent. When this happens, Stan knows that his Poindexter needs some quiet time, and he’ll let Mabel and Dipper know if they’re around, just so they know they’re not being ignored, but just that it’s sweater town time.

Lee’s younger than Ford when regressed, so he can’t play complicated games with Dipper, not that he would when big let’s be real, but that does make it harder for Dipper to find things to do with his Littlest Grunkle. Dipper very quickly finds out that as long as he’s near you, Lee is fine doing literally anything. Coloring, playing with blocks, watching TV, doesn’t matter, just so he’s not alone. Dipper does like doing legos with Lee, though maybe not much how easy and childish they are, but both him and Lee like creating things other than the set out of the Lego bricks. Lee’ll draw pictures of Dipper, of him and Dipper, and give them to him to express his happiness at hanging out with him. Dipper tries to stutter and act aloof, but he’s fooling no one with that blush, try to hide it as he may. Hanging out with Lee is honestly a much needed break for Dipper, too. He has time to just write down in his journal or read a book with minimal distractions, so if he needs some quiet time when his Grunkle is little, he knows he can find it with Lee.

As mentioned before, Mabel and Lee have tea parties with Ford and Lee’s stuffies, spreading the hot gossip going around town. Ford wishes everytime Lee and Mabel hung out could be that cute and quiet. Alas, they are both too mischevious for their own good. He can’t tell who rope who into planting glitter attacks around corners, or why Lee would drink Mabel juice, knowing what he knows about it. He’s just thankful that they both follow the rules of “No Cooking/Oven use without an adult” (and “No Stan doesn’t count as an adult when he’s little, Mabel, that’s not how this works.”). Lee is usually really good about following rules. Too good, Ford doesn’t like it when Lee is too scared to break the rules because he fears getting punished or abandoned, curse their father (and curse myself too!), which is why he’s grateful Mabel gets him to break some rules. The ones that won’t hurt anybody, well nobody important or too badly in any case, are fine, maybe getting a stern warning on not letting the surprise hurt people is the worst of it. Besides, more often than not, when found out, Ford joins Lee and Mabel in crafting a hiding away confetti pouches and sprinkle pits.

Mabel and Dipper just love their Grunkles, whether they’re stern Great Uncle Ford and Conman Grunkle Stan, or excitable Ford/Sixer and sweet Little Lee

:,^,,,,,)

[lainiespicewrites]

A lesson in flirting

Hi friends! This one had been sitting in my unfinished stories for a while. I love a good Henry fic It's another OFC because I can't seem to get off the "Self-insert" thing rn! LOL but you guys seem to love these stories and writing myself as a main character just gives me this air of confidence...Idk lmao... anyway enjoy! Also maybe doing this is part of kinktober?? Idk I’m not really following a prompt list buuut this kind goes with size kink??? Idk? I just wanna post more!

Plot: In which Alayna and her friends are at a bar, she's trying to explain to her friends that flirting is easy. until she sees Henry and her friends tell her to put her money where her mouth is.

Warnings: Smut Like just so much smut. Dirty talk, Oral (male and female receiving), P in V smut, creampie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “No, I mean it! It’s so easy! Men aren’t THAT complicated.” I exclaimed. Hayley shook her head at me. I laughed and downed the rest of my drink.

“You are so boy crazy,” She laughed, “If it’s so easy prove it!” she smirked. Shit, I’d been drinking and lord knows I’m not one to back down from a challenge. I looked over at Skyler who had the same look on her face. 

“Come on Alayna, you look so good tonight! Don’t waste it! You’ve been eyeing that guy by the bar for the last 5 minutes. Go for it!” She urged. I really stuck my foot in my mouth here. I’d been telling them about a time I went out a few months ago and decided I wanted to kiss this guy and just … made it happen. I may have been a little overconfident. I looked over again at the guy they were talking about. He was absolutely gorgeous. He was at least 6’1 with beautiful dark curls and one of the sweetest smiles I’d ever seen. 

“I-I don’t know, I’m all talk,” I said immediately going back on my previous statement. “This guy is way out of my league.”I sighed. 

“No he isn’t!,” Skyler said quickly, “You’re literally so hot! He’d be stupid not to be into you.” Hayley nodded. 

“She’s right dude! Prove yourself right! Go talk to him.” I took one look back at him. Well hopefully if this doesn’t work out I don’t make myself look like an idiot. 

“Alright,” I paused looking at the girls. “Commencing phase one.” I joked.

“Jesus,” Hayley shook her head and Skyler just laughed. 

“Yes! Go get your man!” She cheered me on. Okay, Phase one. Luckily this would be easy. The bartender Nick was already down at his end of the bar so it was the perfect excuse to “Bump into him” and squeeze my way up to the bar to order another drink. It helps that it’s a little crowded too. I pushed past a group of country boys standing around holding their Busch lights. The kind that rolls into the bar in tattered jeans they’ve been working in all day and dirty old work boots. Definitely not my first choice. I shake the thought out of my head starting to get nervous as I approach him. His back is toward me now. I walked up next to him at the counter, my shoulder brushing against him. 

“I’m so sorry!” I blushed. He turned to look at me and smiled. 

“That’s perfectly okay! It's a bit crowded here tonight huh?” he asked, chuckling softly.  Sweet baby Jesus, he’s British! I nodded. Nick was still with another customer so I took the opportunity to make light conversation. 

“Whatcha drinking?” I asked. He fully turned to face me.  Beer bottle in hand. 

“Guinness has always been my favorite.” He said, taking a sip. “Are you a beer drinker?” he asked. I shook my head. 

“Not unless I'm already drunk, or it's in an Irish car bomb.” I joked. He laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“An Irish car bomb? Wouldn’t have assumed that’d be your drink of choice.” He smirked.

“Oh, it’s not! but my brother took me out for my 21st with his friends, they’re like my brothers. Anyway, I did a full “bombs away” Not sure if you’ve heard of that?” I raised an eyebrow. He chuckled, nodding. 

“I do, That had to be a rough time!” 

“It was certainly rough the next day!” The bartender was finally ready so I made eye contact with him to signal I wanted to order. 

“What's up?” he asked. 

“Hey, can I get another Rum and Coke please?” He nodded and walked away to get it started. Nick was a man of little words. I appreciated that about him. 

“Not a bad choice,” I heard the guy say. I laughed

“It’s been my drink of choice since my friend and I started stealing “captain” out of her parent's liquor cabinet senior year.” He chuckled softly. Just then Nick came back with my drink. I smiled and thanked him again. He just nodded. I turned back to the mystery guy and smiled. “Well, it was nice talking to you!” I said. 

“You too! Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” He said. 

“Alayna!” I said quickly. 

“Alayna,” He repeated and smiled. “I’m Henry,” 

“Nice to meet you, Henry!” I said and started to walk away. 

“Nice to meet you, Alayna!” He called after me. I walked back to the girls' new drink in hand and a spring in my step. I smirked sitting back down in between them. 

“Oh my god how’d it go?!” Skyler asked immediately. 

“So he’s fucking British!” I stated. 

“You’re kidding!” Hayley added. I shook my head. 

“Dead ass! His name is Henry, and that’s about all I know! Except he’s even more beautiful up close!” I tried so hard not to squeal. Having a crush was thrilling and fun even if it went nowhere.

“Okay not to get your hopes up but he’s definitely looking this way!” Skyler said. I brought my drink to my lips took a long sip and let my eyes fall in his direction. He was and he was smiling. Before I could catch his eye his attention was brought back to his friend as they continued their conversation. 

“I told you.” I shrugged. Hayley shook her head.

“That doesn’t prove anything buddy, maybe he just thought you were nice,” she stated. Skyler laughed

“He was absolutely staring at her ass as she walked away but okay yeah he just thought she was nice.” She said, I was blushing and trying so desperately to act cool but I knew it wasn’t coming out that way. I took a long pull of my drink and sighed.  

“This is gonna be a high school crush situation all over again if I can’t hold it together. God, he’s so beautiful up close though. I really don’t know how I managed that conversation, let alone blatant flirting.” I shook my head and changed the subject. Asking the girls about work. I had neither of them fooled but they let me change the subject.

 “It’s going okay but I certainly could use a vacation,” Hayley said. I laughed 

“Says the girl who was in Hawaii 3 months ago!” I rolled my eyes. 

“Yeah, and you left us here!” Skyler argued. Hayley retorted with something sarcastic but I didn’t hear her. Henry was walking in our direction and I immediately caught his eye. He smiled when he saw me slowing down as he was walking past. 

“Hey! Are you having a good night?” He asked. I nodded and gave him a big smile.

“I’m having a great night! Just out with the girls. And you?” He quickly glanced over at them and smiled softly. 

“That’s awesome,” He turned his attention back to me and it was a bit dark but I’m almost positive he gave me a once over. “And I’m good! Great now, just a little buzzed and headed to the toilet,” He chuckled. 

“Well don’t let me keep you!” I laughed. I watched as he smirked slightly, looking me over again. He gave me a quick wink.

 “I’ll see you later, love,” He spoke and then walked away toward the restrooms. As he walked away I heard Skyler trying to hold back a squeal. 

“He was absolutely flirting with you!” She smiled. Even Hayley agreed. 

“Dude it’s like we weren’t even here,” She said. I smiled.

“Yeah, I noticed that. But he does seem really sweet! I’m gonna let him make the next move though.” All of a sudden feeling a rush of energy I downed the rest of my drink.  “Fuck it let's go dance!” I said standing up and pulling both of them up with me. I heard Hayley start to complain that she can’t dance so I took her hand and spun her. “Just move! Everyone’s drunk anyway. No one cares! Let loose!” I said. Skyler grabbed my hand and spun me and then jokingly twerked on me. We were laughing and genuinely having a good time. 

This is what we came out for tonight. Just to have fun and be carefree. The song switched to some early 2000s girl group. The kind that makes you feel invincible. The girls and I were still dancing. I spun around and almost ran directly into Henry. 

“I’m so sorry!” I giggled. Clearly more a little more buzzed now. Henry smirked. 

“No need to apologize darling. You’re having fun!” He chuckled. 

“I am!” I exclaimed. “You should dance with me!” He smiled but raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not much of a dancer, Love,” He said. I pouted. 

“Please? It’ll be fun!” I begged. He chuckled. 

“Of course, I will, for you!” He smiled. I let out an excited squeak causing him to laugh. I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a slightly less crowded area of the makeshift dance floor. I turned around and pressed my back to his chest. Immediately his hands found my hips. I slowly started to move my hips against him and looked back giving him a cheeky smile. 

“Told you I’d make it fun!” I said. He smirked and licked his lips slowly.

“I never doubted that,” He spoke. He slowly started moving his hands up my sides. I bit my lip. I loved the feeling of his hands on my body. I felt my shirt rise a little as his fingers moved over the hem of the crop top. Then I felt his fingertips against my neck as he brushed my hair back off my shoulder. I pressed against him, grinding on him to the music. His breath was hot against my neck. “Enjoying yourself, love?”  He spoke his voice low and gravely. I knew he wanted to make a move. I could feel him against me. But He was trying to be respectful.  Or as respectful as he could with my ass pressed to him. 

“Mmhmm, but I’d be having more fun if you’d kiss me.” I started trying so hard to play cool. My heart was racing and the anticipation felt like electricity coursing through me. He moved his hands back down squeezing my hips before he turned me around to face him. He was smiling. God, he was such a beautiful man.  He brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen by the way.” I blushed, losing my nerve now that I was looking him in the eye. 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” He said back. I blushed. 

“That can’t be true, you’re like, insanely hot!” I blurted out. He chuckled, tightening his grip on my hip and pulling me flush against him. My hands were on his chest. Fuck he was solid. We were so close. I was even more nervous now that I had the chance to really look at him. He was wearing a plaid button-up with the top 3 buttons undone and revealing a patch of chest hair. His shoulders were broad and strong. I felt small in his arms. The way he was looking at me I felt like I’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding me up.

“Yeah, and you’re absolutely gorgeous,” He stated. He caressed my cheek softly before leaning in and kissing me. I immediately kissed him back. I moved so my arms were wrapped around his shoulders and tangled my fingers in his hair. He groaned softly, walking me backward until my back was pressed against the wall. He kissed me roughly and as he pulled away he caught my bottom lip between his teeth biting down softly before pressing one last gentle kiss to my lips. He looked down at me hungrily. “I wanna take you home with me.” He growled in my ear before he started kissing my neck.

“I’m sure the girls won’t miss me,” I smirked. He stopped peppering kisses along my jaw and looked me in the eyes. 

“Is that a yes, love?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his face. 

“If I don’t go with you, you’re coming home with me! I don’t wanna miss out on you!” I said. And maybe it was a little eager but I meant it. There was no way I was walking away from him now. “Give me like two seconds to let my friends know so they aren’t panicking though!” I said. He gave me a soft smile and kissed my cheek. 

“Of course darling,” I walked over to where the girls were still dancing not far from me. No doubt they’d seen our spur-of-the-moment makeout session. I didn’t care. 

“Hey so um…” I started. 

“You Whore,” Hayley stated before I could say anything. I just laughed. 

“You know it!” I joked back. 

“Just make sure you use protection! I mean it!” Skyler said. “And I want details!!” She added. I laughed. 

“Okay well, I’m gonna go then … you guys get home safe!”

 After a quick goodbye, I turned around and found Henry at the bar closing his tab. He smiled when he saw me and pulled me to his side. 

“Are you ready to get out of here?” He asked. I nodded. He kept his arm around me as we walked out. He led us to his car, opening the door for me. He got in started the car and paused. “My place or yours?” He asked nonchalantly. 

“Yours, one of the girls lives right down the hall and I don’t need her keeping an eye on me.” I chuckled. 

“It’s sweet that she checks in though. Do you live alone?” He asked. 

“Well hold on, how do I know if I tell you that you aren’t gonna stalk me and murder me?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Because you’re already in my car and if I wanted to kill you I could just do it now.” He paused for a second and chuckled. “I’m not a murderer, I promise. Besides if I killed you I couldn’t take you on a proper date after all this. That wouldn’t be very chivalrous, and to be honest I just know I wanna see you again.” I was blushing. 

“Okay, you make a good argument,” I said. “I wanna see you again too. And we haven’t fucked yet.” I immediately squeezed my eyes shut. I can’t believe I said that. And I was too nervous to see the look on his face. I felt him put his hand on my thigh. I slowly looked over at him. He was smirking. 

“Oh, but we will.” He stated. He looked over at me letting his eyes roam over my body quickly before he focused back on the road. 

Fuck. He’s so hot, this man is about to ruin all other men for me. I heard him chuckle. “Doing okay over there love?” He squeezed my thigh and let his hand wander further up. I bit my lip and nodded. 

“Y-yeah, having the best time right now!” fucking idiot. 

“It’ll be even better in a few minutes. You’re so sexy. Do you have any idea what you were doing to me back there?” It was my turn to smirk. 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea. Pretty sure I could feel it!” I teased. He playfully smacked my thigh. God this was gonna be a good night. 

“Not sure how you could miss it with your ass pressed against me like that.”  I just laughed.

“I didn’t hear you complaining!” I said and laced my fingers with his hand that was resting on my thigh. 

“I wasn’t,” he smiled, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. He let go of my hand as he turned into his driveway and put the car in park. He waited for me in front of the car and took my hand again leading me up to his house. He quickly unlocked the door and I followed him inside.

 He flipped on a light in the entryway so we could see where we were going. Then he turned back to me grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into him. I initiated the kiss wrapping my arms around his shoulder and tangling my fingers in his curls pulling him down to me. It was a very needy kiss. Pressing my lips to his and letting him suck my bottom lip between his. He backed me into the wall and started to kiss my neck. “Fuck your such a naughty girl, what am I gonna do with you?” He asked and then scraped his teeth across my neck. I moaned and tugged at his curls. He growled against my neck, soothing it with soft kisses. His touch was sending shockwaves through my body. I needed more of him. I ran my hands down his shoulders and over his chest. I brushed my hand over his cock, he was already getting hard. I teasingly squeezed him over his jeans. “Mmm” he moaned softly pulling away from his assault on my neck to watch me tease him.

I continued to explore his body, slipping my hands under his shirt and letting my fingers brush across his abs. I bit my lip when I felt him tense under my fingertips. He chuckled and stepped back pulling off his shirt, a proud smirk on his face. He was incredibly muscular. His chest was solid and broad. He was hairy which I had to admit was a serious turn-on. I hadn’t realized it until now. His stomach was hard and defined. It’s like he was carved out of stone. His happy trail matching his chest hair. He had to be incredibly strong. The muscles in his arms were large. He towered over me making me feel small. But his face was so soft and kind and gentle. His eyes were crystal blue and so inviting. He had such a warm smile. God I was mesmerized by this man.  His voice broke me out of my trance. 

“Come here Darling,” he said, pulling me to him again. He pulled at the bottom of my top and leaned in pressing a sweet slow kiss to my lips. “Take this off for me?” He asked. I bit my lip 

“mmhmm” I mumbled, taking a step back to take off my top. I dropped it to the floor and looked up at him. His eyes were focused on my chest. 

“Fuck” he whispered and licked his lips. His eyes flicked back up to mine. “I could tell you had big tits but, wow” he whistled jokingly and I rolled my eyes and laughed. 

“Omg shut up! Says the guy literally built like a Greek God!” Now he was laughing. I stood on my toes kissing him again. I reached my hand between us rubbing over his jeans. He growled against my lips.

“Mm slow down baby, we’ve got all night.” He led me to his couch and pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him.  Trust me Im gonna fuck you tonight darling, I’m definitely gonna fuck you.” He started kissing my neck down to my chest and he kissed the top of my breasts. Then he pulled my bra down and took my nipple in his mouth. I moaned, arching into him and he wrapped his arm around my back holding me to him. 

“But you’re going to make me beg first,” I teased, biting my lip. He hummed around my breast smirking before biting down and dragging my nipple between his teeth. I gasped and ran my fingers through his hair. 

“I love hearing the sounds you make for me,” He moaned as he gave the other breast the same attention. He was driving me crazy. I whimpered softly grinding my hips feeling into his. Trying to get some friction against his now fully hard cock in his jeans. 

“Please Henry,” I moaned.  as he finally unhooked my bra and tossed it aside. He dug his fingers into my hips keeping me still. I couldn’t help the whine that escaped me.

He kissed back up my chest leaving a chaste little kiss on my lips. Fuck he was such a tease. 

“God you’re desperate for it, aren’t you love,” He smirked. “Why don’t you show me how bad you want it,” He nodded toward the floor and I knew exactly what he meant. I slid off his lap and onto my knees in front of him. He stood from the couch and pulled himself from his jeans. Fuck he was big, and already so hard. There was a bead of precum glistening from the tip. If he wanted to tease two could play that game. 

I leaned forward and licked the head of his cock smiling up at him sweetly. 

“Mm don’t stop now love, we're just getting started.” He moaned cock twitching in his hand as the other hand brushed the hair out of my face and rested on the back of my head. 

“You’re just so big, not sure I can handle all of you,” I teased. He chuckled softly running his thumb over my bottom lip. 

“You’ve been talking big talk all night baby, I’m sure you can make it fit,” He winked. I blushed but let him guide me forward taking him in my mouth. I hollowed my cheeks bobbing my head slowly. At first only took him halfway and slowly let him hit the back of my throat. He was already moaning for me. Tightening his fingers in my hair guiding me along his cock. “That's it, love, just like that, fuck,” He growled. He pushed my head further down forcing his cock further down my throat. I choked and my eyes started to water but I let him hold me there. I knew it had to feel incredible for him. He pulled me back and I came up gasping for air. He chuckled. “Fuck that’s so sexy. I need more of you.” He held out his hand to help me up and immediately crashed his lips to mine. He bit my bottom lip dragging his teeth across it slowly before finally releasing me. 

“Are you gonna fuck me now baby?” I asked shyly gently running my fingers down his chest. 

“You’ve more than earned it now darling.” He said kissing me again more gently this time. “But I still wanna please you first.” He smirked bending to pick me up over his shoulder. 

“Henry!” I squealed laughing softly. He chuckled and smacked my ass as he carried me to his bedroom. He dropped me gently onto his bed finally ridding himself completely of his jeans and boxers. He gave me one last look asking for permission before stripping me completely as well. He didn’t speak just smiled to himself and started to kiss and grab and feel all over. Kissing my chest and my stomach. Squeezing my breasts. He settled between my legs spreading my thighs kissing and biting at the inside. He slowly made his way up to my core. 

“Fucking dripping for me. I could feel it when you were in my lap. So needy.” He ran his fingers through my folds spreading my slick smirking to himself. I whimpered softly unable to take it anymore. 

“Fuck please don’t tease me, I need you to touch me. Please, Henry.” I begged. He just smirked.  He spread my lips swiping his tongue through my folds. He pulled me closer by my hips and started circling my clit with his tongue. He pulled it between his lips sucking softly and continued to lick. I moaned tossing my head back and my fingers found his curls again. “Oh fuck!” He slipped two fingers into me curving them into me as he continued his assault on my clit. 

It wasn’t long before I felt the coil build up in my stomach. “Henry, I’m gonna cum!” I whimpered. He didn’t let up just continued through my orgasm licking up my juices and pulled back with a growl. Kissing his way back up my body. 

“God you taste incredible,” He moaned in my ear before flipping me onto my knees on the bed and spreading my thighs. “I need to be inside you.” He groaned, lining himself up with my core running his head through my folds gathering the wetness there. He started to push in slowly. “Such a tight little pussy.” He groaned. “Relax for me, baby.” He leaned down kissing my shoulder as he pushed all the way in. “Such a good girl for me, always so ready for my cock.” he growled. I whimpered. I’d never felt so full. It felt incredible. He finally pulled out slowly and started a rhythm holding onto my hips as he took me from behind. Our moans the sounds of our bodies meeting filling my ears. 

“Mm it feels so good,” I moaned pulling at the comforter I could feel my orgasm building again. I started to squeeze around him. Henry pulled out and I whined softly. I heard him chuckle. He flipped me onto my back wrapping my legs around his waist as he shoved himself back into me. 

“I need to see your beautiful face when you cum on my cock baby.” He moaned picking up the pace. He was starting to get close too. He kissed my neck and I dug my nails into his back surely to leave scratches there tomorrow as I came undone around him. He growled in my ear as he thrusted a few more times letting go inside me. 

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He moaned. He kissed all over my face and smiled. “Are you alright darling?” He asked catching his breath

“I’m amazing,” I laughed. 

“Fuck yeah you are,” He chuckled. He laid down next to me for a moment pulling me into him. “Just give me a minute,” he breathed. 

I knew we were just getting started.

[hard-core-super-star]

i think i love you still [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: you've spent four years trying to understand the complicated mess of thoughts that make up kate bishop. after dealing with the pain of her absence, and the more significant pain of her return, you finally get it right.

warnings: none; light angst with happy ending; childhood best friends to idiots in love who are too stubborn to admit it; my writing style changing ever other paragraph

wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: this very loosely follows the events of hawkeye up until the day before the christmas party. it's also heavily inspired by babyblue by xana. you don't have to listen to it for the fic but it's an incredible song and i can't recommend it enough. enjoy! <3

* * * * * * *

People say absence makes the heart grow fonder but you call absolute bullshit on that.

Although to be fair, the problem isn’t the saying. The problem is Kate Bishop.

You’re definitely not the first person to think that, and you certainly won’t be the last considering the kind of person Kate is, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it. Especially considering the years that have passed.

You’ve always given her the benefit of the doubt, not because you think she deserves it but because you would have driven yourself crazy from the amount of unanswered questions Kate left behind. Or more specifically, from the fact that she left you behind with no explanation.

Kate deciding to leave you and Bishop Security behind to go to university outside of the city wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was her refusing to tell you about her decision until the day she had to leave, making sure to tell you how unambitious she thought you were for taking the job her mom offered you as her secretary.

You still didn’t know what hurt more, her disappearing from your life or the insults she hurled your way before she left. Kate Bishop has many flaws and being an overachiever is definitely near the top of the list. Hence the amount of effort she put into shoving you out of her life.

It should have made working with her mom incredibly uncomfortable but Eleanor seemed to understand your pain better than you could have imagined. Being left behind by the young archer wasn’t an experience that was unique to just you and yet it didn’t make you miss her any less. You're usually good at ignoring the pain her absence left inside you but tonight is different. You look around the bustling party, the smallest of frowns on your face.

This was definitely the worst part of your job. You didn’t mind the long meetings, the stacks of reports you had to look through every day or even the miscellaneous tasks that Eleanor assigns you because you’re the only one who won’t complain about having to bring her another cup of coffee every few hours.

All of that was nothing compared to having to go to stupid galas with even stupider people. You’ll never understand why your boss insists on you accompanying her to every Bishop Security gala considering the lack of something to do. You have a sneaking suspicion it’s her way of trying to get you to interact with more people to hopefully find a way to get over Kate but you’ve never questioned her about it.

You catch sight of your boss while scanning the room for something to take your mind off a certain purple archer and she calls you over to her. You force a smile onto your face as you approach her. “Is everything okay?”

“You don’t have to sound so formal, y/n,” Eleanor says with a small smile. “We’re out of the office.”

“Right. My question still stands though.”

She affectionately rolls her eyes at your insistence. “Yes, everything is fine. I just wanted you to hear the news from me. Kate is home for the holidays…and she’s coming tonight.”

You force yourself not to react even though your first instinct is to run as far away as possible from the party. You try to be calm but your voice comes out a tad harsher than intended. “And I’m supposed to be interested in that information because?”

“Because she’s been looking your way since I called you over.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and even though you really shouldn't do it, you lift your head up and scan the room for Kate Bishop. You don’t have to search for long. Even with the years gone by, your eyes are immediately drawn to her tall, suit-clad frame. She meets your eyes from across the room and you swear everyone else disappears until only the two of you remain. You notice the clench in her jaw even from this distance and you hate yourself for finding it extremely attractive.

Some things never change.

“You should go talk to her.”

You tear your gaze away from Kate to stare incredulously at Eleanor for even suggesting that. “I’d rather get fired than spend five minutes with her.”

“Then you’re lucky we’re not at work,” she says with a playful glare. “Come on, y/n, how long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

She already knows the answer. She was the one you called to pick you up from Grand Central Station after Kate left you behind to chase after…whatever it is she was hoping to find out there. You’re not sure if you’re hoping she found it or not.

“That doesn’t matter. She’s visited New York how many times since she started college?” You let the question hang in the air for a few seconds to avoid sounding as bitter as you feel. “And how many times did she come to see me?”

The older Bishop woman raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I won’t push. Just think about it?”

She walks away from you with a small smile, probably going off to find Jack to tell him all about yet another failed attempt at getting you and Kate back on speaking terms again.

When you turn back, Kate’s gone and you do your best to ignore the ache her absence leaves inside you.

You decide to go back to your apartment a few minutes later which means you successfully miss the drama that unfolds. What you don’t miss is the news report recounting the events or the text from Eleanor telling you you don’t have to go to the office for the next few days. You find it strange but you’re not about to say no to some much-needed time off.

That does mean you miss Kate’s surprising return to Bishop Security which leaves you completely unprepared when she shows up at your door with a ridiculous request and an even more ridiculous outfit.

“I need you to take care of my dog for a few hours.”

That’s the first thing she says when you open your door. No greeting. No apology. No explanation as to why she has the audacity to ask you for a favor after avoiding you like the plague for almost four full years.

Unfortunately for you, your anger is momentarily forgotten at the sight of the adorable golden retriever standing happily at the brunette’s side. “Since when do you have a dog?”

“Since last night,” she replies with a shrug. “I saw him outside of the party yesterday and my heart wouldn’t let me leave him behind.”

You have no doubt that she was trying to be cute with that reply but all it does is make you remember all the reasons why you should slam the door in her face. She seems to read your mind just from the shift in your facial expressions because she ‘accidentally’ lets go of the dog’s leash and lets him run straight into your apartment.

“Listen, I can explain, and I will, just not right now. But I promise you it’s important.”

Of course.

You were kidding yourself if you thought Kate had actually changed. It’s always been this way with her. There’s always something to chase that’s infinitely more important than you. So important, in fact, that she can’t even stop for five seconds to explain what the hell is going on.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Kate.” There’s a flash of something in her eyes, maybe it’s regret or maybe it’s disappointment, but it’s gone just as fast as it came. She opens her mouth to say something but you interrupt her before she can dig herself into a deeper hole. Yet another habit that you’re sure she hasn’t learned to break. “It’s fine, just go.”

She hesitates for a second before giving you a small nod and walking away. You watch her go just like all the other times before. Except this time there’s an excitable dog waiting inside your apartment. You try not to think about how badly you wish the furry companion by your side was Kate instead as you go about your day.

To no one’s surprise, you don’t hear from the archer for the rest of the day. You would be disappointed if you weren’t so used to it. At least this time, Kate’s broken promises only result in you having to take care of the golden retriever, who you’ve affectionately started calling Lucky, and nothing else…or so you think.

It’s not until late morning the next day that your door receives another urgent knock. Lucky immediately reacts, jumping down from the couch and running over to the door, his tail wagging rapidly as if he can tell his new owner is waiting on the other side. You chuckle despite yourself before following after him. “I don’t think you’re getting this dog back, Kate.”

The smile on your face disappears once you take in her appearance. Her face is littered with small cuts and you can see the outline of a bruise forming on the side of her jaw. Your eyebrows furrow the longer you look at her but the answer is given to you by the purple costume she’s wearing. Even without a bow in her hand, it’s obvious what her outfit represents and you can literally feel your heart sink into the depths of your stomach.

“y/n-”

“No. Save it.” There’s a mix of concern and frustration in your tone but you don’t have nearly enough time to figure out which feeling is stronger. “Just take your dog and go.”

“I can’t,” she says, tinges of desperation painting her voice. “I owe you an explanation.”

You scoff. “Oh, you owe me much more than that. You have no idea what the last four years have been like for me.”

The brunette takes a step forward, clearly asking a silent question. “Then tell me what I’m missing. Help me make it right.”

“I’m not a stupid Avengers mission, Kate!” You hate the way your voice breaks under the weight of your repressed emotions. “If you're looking for someone to save, you're in the wrong place. I don't need you. Not anymore.”

You're ready for that to be the end of the conversation and you reach out to grab hold of Lucky’s leash. You're about to hand the leash over to Kate when her next words stop you in your tracks.

“What if I need you?”

You stare at her with wide eyes almost not believing what you've just heard. Four years of silence and absence. That's what it took to hear those words you've desperately longed for.

But it's not enough.

“You're a little too late.”

She wants to fight back against your words. You know her well enough to recognize that spark of determination in her eyes. Despite what you've just said, a part of you hopes that's what she's going to do. That this time she’ll fight for you.

Instead, all you get is a mumbled apology as she snatches Lucky’s leash and walks away again. You shouldn't have expected anything different…but you did. You expected whatever mess she seems to be in to be more than enough motivation to fix what happened between the two of you.

Kate Bishop is many things but predictable isn’t one of them.

The next few days go by far too slowly for your liking. Eleanor denies your request to go back to work (multiple times) and without a place to travel to for the holidays, you’re stuck in the one place you’d rather not be. You don’t think there’s a single corner of New York that won’t remind you of the one person you don’t want to spend any more time thinking about.

It’s not until the day before the Christmas party, a party you helped arrange even though it’s definitely not a part of your job description, that you run into the purple archer once again. Or more specifically, she runs into you.

You’re on your way out of your apartment despite the heavy rain that falls outside. You open your door expecting to be met with an empty hall only to find a soaking-wet Kate Bishop standing on your doorstep, looking like the world’s largest golden retriever. You do your best to ignore the way your heart skips a beat just from the mere sight of her. It takes a few seconds for you to get over your shock but you manage to find your voice. “Kate? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m the last person you want to see right now.”

You briefly consider slamming the door shut in her face but decide against it. For the moment. “That didn’t answer the question, Bishop.”

“I just…” She sighs. “I had to see you again.”

“So you decided to walk here in the pouring rain?” You’re stuck between wanting to call her an idiot and wanting to admit how cute she looks. Yeah, you’re still a sucker for her puppy dog eyes.

“I know I don’t deserve another chance after everything I’ve done but please. I can’t keep this inside any longer. I need to talk to you.”

A long moment of silence goes by before you make up your mind. You might be signing yourself up for more disappointment but you have too many unanswered questions to let her walk away again.

“Come in before you catch a cold,” you say as you open the door wider for her.

She wastes no time in complying and you’re almost certain the shakiness of her hands has less to do with the rain and more to do with her nerves. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart before shutting the door and following after her.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room, her eyes scanning every picture frame and random poster that adorns your walls. You can tell the realization she comes to by the subtle slouch of her shoulders. There’s not a single thing in your living room that carries the memory of her. No pictures, no posters, no trace of the role she played in your life at some point.

“Let me get you a towel or something.” You start to walk away but a hand on your wrist stops you. You let her turn you around, not putting up any sort of fight as she pulls you in closer to her.

You wait for her to say something but all she does is stare into your y/e/c eyes, her grip on your wrist tightening ever so slightly. You can practically see every thought that flickers through her mind and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the day deciphering the walking contradiction of feelings that make up who she is.

“y/n…” Her voice trails off as her blue eyes travel down your face. You’ve never seen that look before but you’re almost certain you know what it means. And it makes your head spin. “I shouldn’t have walked away. Not the first time, not the last time. But I…I’m so afraid of hurting you. Again. I thought dealing with my feelings would be easier if I was away from you but I was wrong. All it did was make you a stranger and you have no idea how much I regret that. How badly I want to make things right between us because I…I love you. I always have. And I can't go another second without you knowing that.”

You’re stuck between who you’ve been and who you want to be.

You’ve spent the better part of four years cursing Kate for leaving you, regretting the love you couldn’t help but foster for her, wishing she had never stepped foot into your life. But now…with her standing in front of you, looking at you with sincere eyes strong enough to make any other girl weak in the knees, you accept the truth you’ve been pushing away for so long.

You don’t blame Kate for leaving. You don’t regret the years you spent by her side. You don’t wish you never met her. You don’t hate her.

You love her.

It’s been that way since the day you met her and no amount of stupid mistakes or misunderstandings can ever change that. Hell, not even both of your stubborn personalities could change it.

“Say something,” she whispers. “Please.”

She leans in toward you. It’s a small move but you pick up on it immediately. Your breath catches in your throat before you do the only thing you can think of.

You close your eyes and take a leap, trusting Kate to catch you.

And she does. For the first time, you embrace the uncertainty that makes up your strained relationship and she doesn’t leave you hanging. She meets you halfway and the feeling of her lips against yours holds a promise you know she’ll fight tooth and nail to keep. She's not leaving.

This time, and every time from here on out, she's staying. And that's all that matters.

[mingos]

*crawls out of the ground like a mole, coughing up copious amounts of dirt*

so, hello.

    i try to keep things as vague & light as possible when referencing my homelife because, honestly, the last time i brought up anything tangentially related i was essentially told “you being upset is making other people upset and ruining the fun” so being anything other than ✨chaotic positivity gremlin wilder ✨ here makes me paranoid, hence why i’ll just disappear for weeks sometimes. 

but. 

i’ve clearly been gone for a bit, will probably be gone for a bit longer, and since i’ve been getting messages from folks wanting to check in on me i wanna give a more detailed update than usual. i feel guilty for not responding directly, but for reasons i can’t get detailed on other than “the idea of having a conversation with 99.9% of people right now is terrifying” (is this what being nonverbal is, chat?) with even the .1% being a super recent development, a queue post into the void is my solution.

i won’t get that detailed, but if light references to domestic abuse, addiction, or just family issues in general are hard subjects for you - nothing past this paragraph is too pertinent anyway, so don’t worry about having to stop. all you gotta know is that some Bad Stuff with family happened, but i’m safe & i’ll be back in maybe another week or something. 

anyways. i was living out of hotels for about 3 weeks. 

more like 16-17 days if you want to get technical because 4 of those days i had an actual scheduled hotel for my twin’s wedding at the end of august - but i’ve basically been bouncing around since august 21st. the night of the 20th, i had a horrific fight with my family member and, for the first time ever, i left. don’t know if would call it brave on my part - since we were leaving for a trip anyway, this is just the first time my suitcase was already packed.

right now, i’ve been at another relative’s house since the 11th. i tried to go back on the 1st because, even after years of this, i’m apparently way too easy to convince everything is going to be fine…  but by the 2nd i was out of there again. 

currently mulling over my next move here because, as much as the common sense answer is to stay away, anybody who’s unfortunate enough to deal with this knows how complicated it is. i’m scared for this person’s safety as much as i am for my own. no one else really checks on them, and i’ve already had to deal with several medical emergencies they’ve had like bad falls & breathing problems. i don’t like leaving them alone for long because the guilt at the thought of something bad happening to them and no one knowing for possibly days or weeks eats me up.

i logically know i’ll have to get past that eventually because i can’t let my life be dictated by this incredibly toxic cycle forever or i’ll never be happy, but now isn’t the time. they also have a dog who would similarly be put at risk if something happened to them, so it’s a lot for me to worry about.

but, having said all that, we’re currently in the apology stage or i guess the negotiation stage because, after the shit that happened this time, i’m making it perfectly clear i’m not stepping foot in that house until they do something. detox, treatment, rehab, disulfiram, soberlink, therapy – something. we’re kind of running out of things for them to try at this point, but at least they used to try. they haven’t really been doing that this past year and I’m the one suffering the most because of it.

so yeah, that’s where things are at the moment. i’m mentally not doing so hot - but I’ve got my dog, and being able to sleep in a bed i’m familiar with for a change and not a hotel (I spent so much money on hotels, guys i’m cooked) is nice relief while I wait out whatever the hell is happening. talking to them over the phone again pretty much drains any of the energy I’ve got back, but it sounds like they’re starting to "get it' so hopefully they’ll start to take this seriously again because I can really only take one more year of this (if even) until I just need to accept these things aren’t my responsibility and move on.

honestly, having a close-knit group of friends/support system for the first time in years has really reminded me of that and given me the confidence to take a lot of steps to live for myself for a change, and to think about prioritizing my own happiness for once, which wasn’t the place i was in at this time last year, or the year before that, or the year before that - so I just want to say thank you again to anyone whose ever helped talk me through something or really just been nice to me at all. this is why i always remember to be kind because it can genuinely do a lot for someone going through something, because i know it has for me.

anyway uhhhhh i hope you are all doing well, and with any luck i’ll be chilling on here by the start of october. can’t miss spooky month and this insufferable pink bird’s birthday, after all.

much love.

[desiccatedwithering]

WIP: bat!Eddie

Happy International Bat Appreciation Day! Figured I might as well use @batboysxprompts's Bat to the Bone event as an excuse to post a 1k snippet of my post-s4 bat!Eddie WIP (unbeta'd so ignore any mistakes) 🦇

“Ok,” Steve says, dragging the word out, hands raised to show that he’s unarmed. “How did you get into my house? And where did you come from? Did you, like, escape from a zoo? Should I be calling animal control?”

Eddie lets out an annoyed screech, and Steve jumps.

“...You don’t have rabies, do you?” he asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

Eddie grumbles and shakes his head, giving Steve a look that hopefully comes across as offended.

Steve drags his hand through his hair and mutters, “I’m going insane. There’s no way a bat just shook its head in response to my question. Maybe this is a hallucination. Weird fucking Vecna vision, though…”

Ok. Steve clearly isn’t going to guess the truth on his own. (Which is fair, honestly, because even after getting a crash course in the craziness of the past few years, Eddie doubts that he’d believe that a bat that randomly showed up in his house could actually be a person. It’s still extremely inconvenient, though.)

He wracks his brain, trying to think of some way to communicate with Steve when he can’t actually talk to him, and— Oh. He’s kind of an idiot, isn’t he?

He starts squeaking. Short short shot, long long long, short short short. Pause. Repeat.

Steve squints up at him. “Am I actually going insane, or are you squeaking at me in morse code?”

Eddie nods so furiously his whole body bobs up and down with it, letting out a high, fast chitter. Yes yes yes yes yes!

“Do SOS again,” Steve orders, still staring.

Eddie does.

Steve literally falls to the floor. He doesn’t seem to even notice, just sits sprawled on the carpet, eyes fixed unblinking on Eddie. “Holy shit. Ok. Uh, I don’t know any other morse code, so uh, gonna have to stick with yes or no questions for now.”

Thank fuck, since Eddie hadn’t really considered what might’ve happened if Steve had learned morse code or picked up a guide in… however long Eddie was out of commission for.

“Starting off with a stupid question: You can understand everything I say, right?”

There’s a brief pause where they both stare at each other expectantly.

Hey, big boy, you gonna tell me what I should do for yes and no? He gives Steve a pointed look then squeaks another SOS.

Steve blushes and smiles sheepishly. “Shit, yeah, sorry about that. Um. One squeak for ‘yes,’ two for ‘no,’ three for ‘I don’t know,’ and four for ‘Too complicated for a yes or no.’ Sound good?”

Eddie squeaks once. Honestly, that’s surprisingly thorough.

Steve lets out a sudden, hysterical burst of laughter, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I can’t believe this is my life. This is crazy,” he breathes. Then he looks up at Eddie again and says, louder, “I have it on good authority that I always ask dumb questions, so don’t judge me too much. Are you a normal bat that somehow gained the ability to understand English?”

No.

“Are you… from around here?”

Yes, Eddie squeaks. Then, corrects, No. Then, shaking his head in frustration, It’s too complicated for a yes or no.

“Huh,” Steve says, squinting again. “So that sounded like yes and no?”

Yes.

“Alright… Were you born around here?”

Yes.

“But you’re not from here.”

That’s not a question, but Eddie still squeaks that it’s too complicated.

Steve adjusts so he’s sitting criss-cross applesauce, drumming his fingers against his knees. “Fuck, do we have to switch to charades or something? I don’t—”

Yes! Eddie squeaks because oh Steve is a genius. Eddie’s literally a bat right now. He was made for this.

He leaps off the chandelier—falls, really, since he’d just been awkwardly holding on with his thumbs, wings wrapped around it—and takes to the air. Sure, he’s never done this before, but hopefully it’s as instinctual as flying was. He makes a wide arc, aiming for the chandelier again. At the last second, he tucks in one wing. The shift in his center of gravity makes his stomach swoop for a moment, before his feet hit the metal and latch on. Then he’s staring at Steve’s baffled face upside down. He spreads his wings wide, shaking them a little in a sort of Ta da! gesture.

Yes, he squeaks again, for good measure, wrapping his wings around himself in a very bizarre self-hug.

He’s got bat ears now, so he doesn’t have any trouble picking up Steve’s mumbled, “Yes to charades…” His head snaps up, eyes wide. He points at Eddie. “You flipped upside down after agreeing to charades.”

Yes.

“You know about the Upside Down?”

Yes!

“Just to make sure we’re on the same page: like, the Upside Down, which is what we call an alternate dimension filled with monsters.”

Eddie’s not sure if his eye roll gets across or if it’s the exasperated tone of his answering Yes, but Steve also rolls his eyes in response.

“Jeez, sorry for trying to get clarification from the enormous bat that appeared in my house and started communicating with me in morse code.”

Eddie’s ears droop in a hopefully apologetic looking expression, and he lets out a low chitter.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it’s probably frustrating that you’re talking to me rather than someone smarter.” Before Eddie can even think of a way to push back on that, Steve’s moving on: “Ok, so you were born here, but you’re from the Upside Down? Is that what you were trying to say before?”

Yes! Eddie squeaks, hoping that if it seems enthusiastic enough, Steve will realize that he’s doing an incredible job with this. Someone else probably would have called animal control, or wouldn’t be able to figure out Eddie’s mixed messages and ask the right follow up questions.

“Now, when you say you were born here, is that, like, here as in Hawkins or this planet or—? Shit, sorry. Were you born around Hawkins?”

Yes.

“Did you… live in Hawkins before being in the Upside Down?”

Yes.

“Have you always been a bat?”

No.

“Were you a person?”

Oh, Eddie could kiss him. He barely stops himself from dropping from the chandelier to curl up in Steve’s lap, and that’s only because he thinks Steve might have some trauma-based unpleasant reactions to a bat shaped creature suddenly diving at him.

Yes.

Steve takes a deep breath, voice wavering just a bit as he asks, “Did I know you when you were a person?”

Yes!

This whole time, Steve’s been curling into himself more and more, knees tucked to his chest, arm wrapped around his shins, hands clutching his sleeves with white knuckles. He’s balled up smaller than Eddie’s ever seen him. Looking terrified in a way he didn’t when facing down actual monsters and the literal end of the world. He looks like Eddie’s next answer has the potential to shatter him completely.

“…Eddie?” he whispers.

Yes! Eddie squeaks, loud enough that Steve jumps. He wants to repeat it, wants to say it over and over because honestly he never really imagined that someone would figure it out, let alone with a single conversation—but that’d be confusing, so he settles for a high pitched trill to convey his excitement.

[lucythornwalter]

Of the eight American Girls developed by Pleasant Company, seven of them celebrate Christmas, and Felicity isn’t the outlier. (It’s Kaya. Any time you’re talking about the original eight girls and one of them is different from the others, that one is almost certainly Kaya. I have somewhat mixed feelings about this, but we’ll get to that when we get to the girl herself. There’s a reason I’m saving her for last.) This means that we get Felicity’s Surprise, a Christmas story, and thankfully a story that has basically nothing to do with class or gender, so hopefully I won’t be sucked into the vortex of the slavery-shaped elephant in the room for the fourth time in a row.

We begin the book with Felicity and her sister Nan going home after an afternoon of gathering holly to decorate their house for Christmas, and we can see Felicity’s maturity and growing comfort with her assigned gender because while she still loves to slide around on frozen puddles she’s conscious of the fact that she can’t stay outside and play forever and that she’s expected to behave in a more genteel and mature way. The biggest lesson she learned last book, it seems, isn’t navigating complicated social conflicts, it’s that femininity can be fun – just as fun as masculinity, in different ways. It’s helped her bond with her sister, and created more solid ties between her and her mother. Both of those are shaping up to be important.

After the girls get home, their house is visited by a footman who delivers an invitation for Felicity from Lord and Lady Dunmore, the governor of Virginia and his wife. They’ve asked her to come to a dancing lesson at their palace on the seventh of January, just after the end of the Christmas season (the day after, in fact, as ‘Christmastide’ lasts until Twelfth Night on the sixth). This is both exciting and nervewracking for Felicity. Her father’s store isn’t doing as well as it was prior to his decision not to sell tea, so there’s not as much money to go around and it’s stressing her parents out, and she’s worried they’ll perceive her desire to go to the lesson as a betrayal of their political position since Lord Dunmore represents the will of the King in the colony. Luckily, her father tells her that she can and should go. He hopes that if the children of these opposing families can find common ground and dance together, the adults can solve their problems without violence. I have to wonder if anyone ever bothered to give him a copy of Romeo and Juliet to illustrate how well that tends to go when young people are involved.

I lied, by the way. This is a little about class. If the Merrimans weren’t at least reasonably wealthy and respected, it wouldn’t matter who Felicity herself knew. She wouldn’t be getting an invite to the governor’s mansion. It’s also a little about gender, too – we see the tension between Felicity’s strong suits (running footraces, riding horses, sliding and skating on ice) and her weak points (curtsying, dancing). Ben also gets to stick his head in as an avatar of masculinity and an aspirational figure, criticizing Felicity for wanting to go to the dance in the first place and wounding her pride and hurting her feelings. Ben seems to only respect Felicity if she conforms to his gender, and acts as a young boy might act; he’s deeply awkward and uncomfortable around her without that buffer of common interest to unite them.

We have a mention of a truly historical food, Shrewsbury cakes. I’d never bothered finding out what those were in all my first years with Felicity as a companion, but according to Wikipedia they’re basically sugar cookies with lemon zest in the dough and dried fruit added for additional flavor. Felicity and Elizabeth make a version with nutmeg and rosewater that seems to be sourced from a 19th century American cookbook, and when I get around to looking at Felicity’s cookbook I wonder if they’ll be included. (Don’t tell me! I want to be surprised.) We also get Felicity’s anxieties over dancing, exacerbated by Annabelle Cole making fun of her again. She decides that if she has the right dress she’ll be confident enough to not make any mistakes, but her family’s money problems mean she doesn’t feel comfortable asking for a new gown. It’s also a new experience for her – usually her mother has to bully her into dressing well. I’ll also point out that the money problems don’t seem to be impacting their ability to feed and house themselves, and they can still do their shopping with more or less the same freedom. It’s possible they’re eating into their savings or Felicity’s grandfather steps in with a loan or a discreet gift, and it’s also possible that the Merrimans’ downward-turning fortunes were always intended to be a temporary state. We do see Kit’s family have a massive upheaval due to the loss of Mr. Kittredge’s income, but that is so significant as to overshadow her entire tenure in the books – my guess is that Pleasant Company doesn’t want to introduce major life events without letting them be major life events.

Our old friend the theme of justice surfaces again here, because the central conflict in this volume is all about the Patriots believing that their opposition to the King is morally right while the Loyalists believe that obeying the King and obeying the laws is paramount. Felicity herself remains neutral on the subject, which I quite like from a historical education perspective because contemporaneous works like Liberty’s Kids have highly opinionated characters who are extremely well-informed and very passionate about their chosen political positions despite being, as the title suggests, kids. It feels more realistic that Felicity is most concerned with how her parents’ interactions with politics are going to affect her ability to go to a party.

This book is also noteworthy for being the introduction to Felicity’s doll. Every American Girl in the original eight books (again, except possibly for Kaya, though I think she did also have a doll of some kind) had a doll that she had some sort of attachment to. Some of them are joined at the hip, others like playing with dolls as one of many toys, still others treat them more like we’d treat a plushie or a comfort object. Felicity’s style of interaction is the most familiar to me, as a doll collector rather than a doll player. She sees a fashion doll at the milliner’s and wants it very badly because of how pretty it is, but basically never plays with it and mostly enjoys having it around in her house. She sees the doll in the first place because Mrs. Merriman takes her on her errands, including to the apothecary to purchase some cough medicine for herself and to the milliner to get some trim or ribbon to spruce up her church gown so she can look pretty for the dance lesson. While at the milliner’s, though, Felicity decides to ask for a new gown of the same blue fabric used to dress the doll, and Mrs. Merriman is so happy that she wants to have a new dress on her own that she spends money the family maybe doesn’t have and buys the pattern and the silk right there on the spot.

(Brief historical aside – the milliner would probably also have been a mantua-maker, which was a style of clothing construction developed primarily by women and that involved what we’d now recognize as a form of draping. Pieces of fabric were draped or held over a client’s body and immediately cut to fit them and match their measurements. Colonial Williamsburg’s milliners now are also mantua-makers, and this blog post from Sarah Woodyard details her experiences becoming a journeywoman mantua-maker after years of apprenticeship and training there. This is significant because instead of Felicity’s measurements being taken right there and her pattern being created from scratch in muslin for her mother or the mantua-maker to replicate and assemble in the blue silk of the finished product, the milliner provides Mrs. Merriman with a preexisting pattern for a grown woman to be altered to fit Felicity – she’s essentially acting as a tailor, who did use preexisting patterns that were then individually cut and altered based on measurements. This is probably because the process of assembling a hand-sewn piece from a modern paper pattern is much closer to tailoring than mantua-making and is thus more familiar to modern girls, but it might also be because Pleasant Rowland and Valerie Tripp didn’t know the difference between the types of garment assembly. I’m curious now if Colonial Williamsburg practiced mantua-making in the 90s, or if they tailored their garments and later adapted to better fit historical practice.)

Felicity is more connected with her labor here than she was in the last book. Now, her household chores and her assistance with additional tasks aren’t just drudgery that no one appreciates – the more time she can clear up for her mother, the more time said mother can spend sewing the gown. She also assists as best she can in sewing it, though most of the work is too complicated for her. It’s a really lovely series of moments, watching her find yet more reasons to appreciate her life and her assigned gender roles but to find them for herself and not through being forced or railroaded.

Unfortunately, Ben is a gigantic asshole about it. He belittles her for liking the gown, and for wanting to go to the dance lesson. He even tells her that if Penny came back he doesn’t think she’d care, which deeply hurts her. Ben has previously been treating Felicity like a peer, even though he’s seven years older than her; this is one of the times when it might have benefited him to remember that he’s practically a grown man and she’s a little girl. He’s mostly angry about her fraternizing with Loyalists, not thinking about the precarious financial status of his apprenticeship or the fact that her appearance at the mansion might mean more business for the store – again we see him treating her like a man and getting angry when she’s more like a woman. Okay, maybe this book is a lot about gender. Maybe gender is inescapable. Maybe it comes for all of us.

Christmas itself is actually not that big of a deal among the Virginians, though it’s certainly more of a big deal for them than for the Puritans in New England. Felicity goes to church, and the family have a spectacular Christmas dinner, and Mrs. Merriman, who has been fighting an illness of some kind, is now significantly sicker than she was before because she’s not eating. As a kid, I definitely didn’t understand that as foreshadowing, but now as an adult who’s had some serious illnesses (and some chronic ones, insert skull emoji here) I definitely get what’s being communicated. The apothecary had warned her to rest, but she hadn’t taken his advice, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she couldn’t or because she didn’t want to. I’ve mentioned it before, but the whole family has to work to keep the household running, even with the extra help provided by the definitely enslaved Marcus and possibly enslaved Rose, so it’s possible that it doesn’t matter what the doctor wants, dinner has to be on the table, and my oldest child is nine and can’t do it.

Regardless, by the next morning, she’s gone from “mildly ill” to “actively dying”. The apothecary basically tells her poor family that the most they can do is keep her room warm and try and get her to eat and hydrate whenever she’s awake, but that beyond that it’s a crapshoot. Notably, Mr. Merriman leaves the store entirely to Marcus and Ben and stays home to parent his children and sit with his wife, which is a possible clue as to why Felicity’s parents are so permissive about her gender nonconformity – they don’t quite fit the molds themselves. Felicity herself is deeply impacted by her mother’s illness, and goes through a period of actively hating herself for caring about silly things like a dance lesson or a fancy gown or a doll. She even gets the doll as a present and demands that Elizabeth take it away so she isn’t reminded of how foolish she was. She also says she won’t be able to go to the dance lesson so long as her mother is sick, and even if that were to change her gown is only half-finished.

A turning point for her character comes, though, in the form of providing hope to Nan and William. They’re reliant upon her to be brave and strong, and in helping them through their own fear and grief she finds closure. This doesn’t last long, though, because their mother doesn’t die, thank God, and she’s basically gently bullied by her parents back into being a little girl. This too is about class, I think, because the Merrimans are capable of giving their kids childhoods in the first place. There’s no work around the house or work for other people that needs to be done, and while they have chores and lessons and responsibilities their days are about halfway split between work and play. It’s an interesting contrast to other, poorer girls both in and out of the American Girl franchise – she can run off and drop what she’s doing on a whim, where Kirsten and Addy and even Molly would have to finish their chores first.

And speaking of being a little girl, she gets to go to the dance lesson! Elizabeth and the other Cole women worked on her gown in secret so she could go, and Ben apologizes for having a giant stick up his ass and escorts her to the governor’s mansion. The concept of being escorted is a really interesting one as it’s used here, because Felicity is allowed to run wild all over Williamsburg basically all of the time unless it’s something fancy, but it’s important enough to her parents that she have an escort that she almost doesn’t get to go at all because no one can leave her mother for long enough to take her. At least she has her aspirational figure of ideal Patriot masculinity to project onto and talk with.

Once she gets to the mansion, everything goes perfectly. I’ve actually been in the specific ballroom the kids all hang out in, because you can take house tours of Dunmore’s real life mansion that he really lived in when you visit Colonial Williamsburg, and I did ask myself which specific room Felicity’s lesson was in, and now that I’ve reread it and the walls are described as being blue I can say definitively that yes, I was there, it’s very luxurious and cool, and she was absolutely right to want to go. She ends the night in triumph, and wearing a very cool dress, and really, what more could a girl want?

This is not my favorite Christmas book among the original eight. It’s interesting to note that the titular “Surprise” is basically never to do with Christmas itself, and sometimes it’s a surprise the girl gets to present to everyone else. Here, of course, it’s the blue dress and the Cinderella moment, and truthfully I’m very glad that an actual surprise is present. Not all the titles always check out – Kirsten Saves the Day is not about Kirsten saving the day, it’s about Kirsten almost getting mauled by a bear – but this one definitely does. It also feels the least Christmas-adjacent to me, possibly because very little is done with the day itself. That’s fairly historically accurate, as Christmas was something of a controversial holiday among certain English people and really only came into its own in the 19th century, but it does mean that there’s very little holiday spirit to truly connect with.

The message of peace on Earth really falls flat for me, too. As nice as it is to express a desire to settle your differences peacefully, everyone here is going to be fighting in less than two years. It’s one thing to try and talk about the slowly escalating tensions. It’s something else entirely when there’s not really any mystery about how this will end. Plus, again, the fact that everyone is able to make nice for a night for the sake of the kids just highlights how fundamentally similar both sides of this conflict were. It’s a lovely sentiment, but it’s only accessible to the rich people driving the engine of rebellion, and I do wish there was more acknowledgement of that fact. For all the problems with Hamilton’s historiography, it at least understood that particularly vital point. For some of the people involved, this wasn’t a conflict they could make nice over, it was their futures, their legacies, their lives and deaths.

Anyway, I successfully avoided talking at all about slavery, but that’s not going to last, because in Happy Birthday, Felicity! we meet Isaac, and I have a lot to say about Isaac. See you all next time, I guess?

[myriadparacosm]

CHARMED AU - 1. Something Wicca This Way Comes

Read on AO3

Sirius isn’t sure anymore. Grimmauld Place hasn’t changed, not one bit, which shouldn’t scare him off but he has left this place with the hope that it would have crumbled down. The bricks are clean and shiny despite their dark colours. It shouldn’t be a contrast with the rest of the Borough of Islington and London’s architecture but the house still stands out - as if to scream that it's better than any other. It wouldn’t be a complete surprise that somehow Grimmauld Place inherited their family’s big ego.

He sighs and checks on his parked bike before taking off his helmet. It’s hopefully not too late to come. With his heavy backpack in hand, he climbs the steps he hoped he would never have to ever again. The silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent greets him with an infuriating clean glint. Sirius roughly hits it against the door.

With a sigh, he prepares himself with a practised smile and a last look at his motorbike. The trip has been pleasing especially with the company of the full moon always following him, no matter the clouds passing by, and it somehow softened the cold as he drove. It’s not every day that you can see a full moon this beautiful.

“Yes?”

That’s not Regulus. Sirius frowns at the tanned, quite dark, man with perfect bright blond hair as he slowly pieces together a far off memory of a child a bit similar.

“Aren’t you— the Rosier boy?” He asks.

“Evan,” he says, glancing at him up and down. “Sirius, right?”

Frankly it’s obvious who he is but Sirius is more concerned about what he is doing here. He crosses his arms and tries to take a look inside.

“Of course that’s me. What are you doing here? Where is Regulus?”

Rosier purses his lips and hesitates to look behind him although he closes the door a bit more. “Hum-”

“Alright, let me in,” he huffs out before he can be locked out.

“Did you tell Reg’ that you would drop by?” He asks and pushes the door when Sirius tries to open it by force. “Stop that!”

“Look, I don’t know who you are but that’s-”

“What are you doing here?”

Sirius lets go of the door, turning around to spot his little brother at the bottom of the steps. Regulus almost glares at Sirius’ innocent motorbike before focusing on him.

“Reggie,” he greets with a genuine smile but his brother gets only more hostile by the clench of his jaw and furious scowls. “I’m— I’m home.”

Regulus loudly scoffs and angrily stomps up the stairs. He hasn’t grown much from a year ago and Sirius is relieved by it. It means that he hasn’t missed a lot.

“Home?” He repeats. “Home? This hasn’t been your home since you left 10 years ago,” he hisses out.

“Hey, I came back-”

Regulus faces him with a scathing glare and his hands curled into fists. “You came back for Alphard’s funeral! You didn’t even show up when he was sick and you knew.”

“It was complicated!”

“Because of course it’s always the worst for Sirius, isn’t it?” He spits back. “Did you think I was having fun?!”

“Re-”

“You wanted to leave this house and family, Sirius!” He exclaims. “That was your choice and you never came back on that, not even when I was alone here did you try to not be as egoist as you have always been!”

“Hey! You two twats!” Evan shouts before giving a pointed look at their surroundings. “You’re making a scene.”

“That’s what he has always loved to do,” Regulus spits out, roughly pushing Sirius out of his way to walk in the house.

“Reggie, we’re not done!” Sirius storms in too even if Evan clearly tries to close the door. “Look I’m here and you out of everyone should know why it was so difficult-”

“Because it wasn’t difficult for me?!” Regulus snaps, throwing his bag on the couch as Sirius follows him in the living room. “I warned you that Alphard was sick but you waited at the last moment to show up! Mother died when I was barely six and then Father just after you ran away. Alphard is the only reason why I didn’t end up homeless!”

“I was fifteen! And I didn’t know about Orion until two years later!”

“Yes and you didn’t try to come back or even talk to me, did you?” He hisses. “Makes you wonder if you weren’t actually running away from me.”

“From you?! Are you mad?”

“Oh, we have a guest?”

Sirius turns to spot a woman, a stark reflection of Evan but with longer hair and a kinder if not pure angelic look, walking down the stairs with a smile. Regulus sighs as Evan glances at her.

“Not the moment Panda,” he says.

“Who is that?”

“Hi, Sirius! I'm Pandora.”

“Reggie, who are they?” Sirius asks.

“They are my friends,” he replies with that annoying tone of his, “you know people who care about me.”

“You know perfectly that I care about you!”

“We live with Regulus.”

“Pandora!”

“What? It’s the truth and Sirius should know if he wants to stay here.”

“He isn’t staying.”

“I am!” Sirius argues and quickly steps around to face his brother who tries to escape through the living room connected to the dinning one. “Wait, did you change the place?”

“Alphard did. Not that you care.”

“Reggie, I’m trying here!”

“I don’t want to listen to you!” Regulus shouts. “And you get out of here before I call the police!”

Sirius freezes in surprise. “What? Re-”

“No,” he growls. “You aren’t going to waltz back in here like you did nothing. You left me and when I asked your help for Alphard-”

“I wrote to him,” Sirius blurts out. “Almost every week, we wrote to each other.”

Regulus shakes his head, slightly surprised. “What?”

The other two supposed roommates of his brother are clearly eavesdropping but Sirius feels like he is hanging off a thin rope - one that he doesn’t want to break in fear that it fully destroys what he wants to salvage with his brother.

“Since I ran away, we wrote to each other,” he explains. “I didn’t… I didn’t always have the money to write back. And somehow he always bloody knew where I was because I always got them without a hitch. I thought that you knew since he told me— everything about you.”

Regulus glares at him dubiously before his face ticks with a fleeting softness. He squints at the floor. It doesn’t completely break the tension but at least his brother doesn’t look up with eyes full of hell’s fire.

“Did you ask about me?”

“I did. All the time.”

His sigh is febrile and his brother straightens up, wetting his lips. “What are you doing here exactly?”

“To… move back in,” Sirius says. “I want to be around. And we both know there is enough space in this enormous house. Even with your houseguests.”

“Roommates,” Evan corrects. “We have been living here for almost a year.”

Sirius frowns at him and gets a slight pissed look in response. “Aren’t you the Rosiers? Why-”

“Sirius,” Regulus cuts. “Why do you suddenly come back? You barely stayed for Alphard’s funeral so why the sudden change? What are you hiding?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling, and lets his bag slip down from his shoulder. “I’m hiding nothing. I didn’t come back before because I still had stuff to do,” he explains. “Now feels like the right time for me.”

Regulus shakes his head with a dry snort. “Right time? Well isn’t that great.”

“Reggie, I’m really serious about this. I’m not coming here on a whim,” he insists. “Just give me a chance.”

Sirius hopes that his long trip hasn’t made him look like a monster but he feels his tired muscles pulling at him to just drop. His mind has been heavy ever since Alphard died - not many people showed up to his funeral and that’s why he hesitated to even stay there because he couldn’t truly hide in a thin crowd. Regulus outweighs his fears and disgust and Sirius really wants to act like a better brother and be here for him. He has wondered how Regulus managed to still live here, in this house, but Alphard has been a great influence on him. Better than Sirius.

“Well, you haven’t even joked about your stupid name so this probably means that you grew up a bit, ” Regulus almost chuckles. “I can’t kick you out because the house also belongs to you, per Alphard’s will. Just clean after yourself.”

Sirius looks at Regulus a bit speechless and even takes a few steps ahead, offering a hug but his brother just shakes his head.

“Oh, that’s great! The more, the merrier,” Pandora cheers.

At the refusal, Sirius clears his throat and turns to look at Pandora and her twin. He vaguely remembers them from their old family meetings but he didn’t know that they were this close with Regulus. Still, at least Regulus wasn’t completely alone because it doesn’t seem that he changed much. Still a bit prickly and unapproachable.

“Well, thank you for the welcome.”

“Good. I’m going to take a shower,” Regulus announces.

“Do you want me to give you a tour, Sirius?” Pandora offers. “We haven’t touched your room, like Regulus asked, but we did clean and change some things around.”

Sirius hasn’t changed much. His hair got longer and he has a bit of a stumble which Regulus hopes he will shave before he starts looking like a sexual predator. Pandora leads him out of the dining room, probably to start to explain all the changes they have made from the entry. Regulus exhales through his nose to try to keep his emotions under control.

“Alright there?”

“Great,” he sarcastically replies. “Just the best day of my life. Isn’t it clear on my face?”

Evan snorts and leans back to probably catch the sight of his sister with Sirius before stepping closer. “Hey if you don’t want him here then maybe-”

“No. Sirius probably won’t stay for long anyway,” he says and tries to keep his tone as neutral as possible. “I don’t know what’s going through his head and frankly I wish I don’t have to deal with it.”

“Long day too,” Evan recognizes and nods before crossing his arms. “Just go rest, I will start on dinner while you relax a bit.”

“Thanks.”

Regulus has barely seen Sirius over the last 10 years and he only saw him passing at their uncle's funeral like a mirage, an after-thought made to torture him. It could have been different if Regulus had actually followed Sirius that fateful night where he suddenly piled all his belongings into a bag and announced to Regulus that he was going to run away. Sirius opened the idea to him but Regulus had been a coward; better stay with the pain and misery he is familiar with rather than the unknown. Sirius seems to have managed fine despite everything. Although the motorbike doesn’t truly scream ‘stable and ready to stay’.

His brother coming back to Grimmauld Place is the last thing he ever expected. Regulus has enough with his part-time job and he has all the company he wants with Evan and Pandora. Perhaps she will tell their story herself while she shows Sirius the rest of the house - as if he wasn’t born here - but Alphard really tried to live up the place when he inherited it after Orion died. Their uncle was the only person from their family still around, outside from their cousins but he doubts that they are any different from their parents. Alphard was the exception, somehow. It gave Regulus a little bit of hope.

A creak halts his steps. Regulus knows every nook of this house, which means every groan and shift in the wood is known by heart— except this one. He is about to take his well-deserved shower but this calls his curiosity. The more time he has away from his brother and the upcoming talks or emotions, the better.

He climbs up the rest of the stairs before stopping at the last ones. The door of the attic is slightly opened and it leaves him puzzled as he has never managed to budge the door. Alphard also told him that it’s not worth the effort to open it and that he has given up on that; even if Regulus has seen him coming down from it several times but his uncle always said that it was to check on the door.

“Evan?” Regulus calls from the top of the stairs.

“Yes?”

Regulus glances down to see him on the ground floor, leaning to frown up at him at the second highest floor of their house.

“Did you or Panda go into the attic?”

“Er, no,” he says. “I didn’t even know we had one.”

Is the door broken? There could be an animal in there that scratched at it, probably a bat or even a cat. Regulus has seen a white one lurking around their houses and meowing at their windows. He has given the cat a bit of food or water but the white animal always tries to slip in. In any other place he wouldn't have minded a pet but Grimmauld Place is huge and he is worried that the cat might have stuck itself somewhere no one goes to. 

“Do you want me to ask her?” Evan asks.

“No,” Regulus says. “No, it’s fine. Just curious.”

He could have easily walked away, to start on his warm shower, but instead he cautiously pushes the door completely open. It’s dusty and full of furniture that Regulus wouldn’t even know where to start to list them. The large round window also wears cobwebs but the moon hits it in the right spot to freshen it up, illuminating a path for Regulus to slalom through this mess. The night is clear with a full moon which is a rare occurrence for these two to happen together. Regulus feels like nothing can surprise him more than his brother wanting to reconnect for some obscure reason.

“Hello?” He whispers, hoping to hear some signs of the possible wild animals hiding here.

His steps lead him to a curious spot where his feet bob a bit on one large plank of wood. The moonlight falls right on it, just beside a wooden lectern. It takes a bit of strength but it’s clear that something is hidden under the floor. He manages to move the plank out of the way to find a large, really massive, book. Despite its hidden spot, it’s still covered by dust but it seems perfectly intact.

Regulus is surprised by the weight of it but he manages to pull it out. There aren’t many books that large and filled with so many pages. He cleans the cover page with a hand, expecting a title but he only sees a three-pointed symbol crossing a circle on a leather green front cover. He recognizes it from Alphard’s tattoo and some furniture in the house wears it too except that sometimes it was reversed. His uncle called it a Triquetra, a symbol of unity between three elements that might vary.

This could be Alphard’s book, maybe even grimoire by the mysterious look of it, though this would mean that his uncle had access to the attic and only wanted to scare Regulus off. He isn’t sure if he is lucky or not that he managed to get up there.

It doesn’t fully satisfy his curiosity. Regulus opens the book to the front page, ignoring the two ribbon markers, and faces a page that seems to have been hand-written and hand-drawn.

“The Book of Shadows?” Regulus reads. “That’s quite the invention, Alphard…”

His uncle was unemployed, comfortably with how large his inheritance was. He must have had enough time to come up with something like that. Regulus is probably not the one fit to enjoy this kind of joke though, unlike Pandora. There doesn’t seem to be a title although on the drawn scepter, crowned by a Triquetra, with a thin flag-like there is written Dominus Trinus.

“Latin?” Regulus scowls, remembering all the classes they had as if it’s not a dead language. “Dominus Trinus— Master Three? What kind of hobby is that?”

Frankly, and in the nicest way possible, it doesn’t surprise him that his uncle had this kind of fun. Pandora is also quite ecstatic about witchcraft and he is sure she would love to see that. The rest of the page is in English and his eyes quickly drift over the text before reading out loud. The words flutter over him as he stays comfortably crouched under the moonlight.

“Hear now the words of the witches, The secrets we hid in the night. The oldest of Gods are invoked here. The great work of Magic is sought.”

Regulus frowns a bit, amused.

“In this night and in this hour, I call upon the Ancient Power. Bring your powers to we sisters three. We want the power. Give us the power.”

The lecter shakes beside him but he quickly grabs it before it can properly fall. Another second flies where everything shakes, tingles before stopping. Regulus stares at the open page and hesitates turning it before scoffing with a laugh.

“Well, not a sister anymore,” he jokes, closing the book. “I hope you’re laughing from where you are, Alphard…”

“Hum, Reg’?” He startles at Evan’s voice before spotting him at the door of the attic, looking curiously around. “Damn, that’s a huge attic.”

“Yeah… I never went there until now,” he admits and puts the book down on the lectern. “Are you sure Panda never came here before?”

“I can ask her but I don’t think so,” Evan says. “Hey, did you feel that just now?”

“What?”

“Sort of a earth-quake…”

“Oh that. A truck probably drove by. This house is old after all.”

“Huh, well, Pandora would have loved this place so I doubt she wouldn’t have mentioned it to you or me.”

“You’re right. Better show that to her tomorrow, it’s already late,” Regulus decides as he stands up, brushing his knees with a hand. “Is everything alright? Is Sirius—”

“Still here. I just came up to ask you what you want for dinner,” he explains. “Your brother offered to pick up some take-outs for dinner. I don’t know if this qualifies as bribery but still, better take advantage of it. He is waiting on our orders.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Well at least we get something out of this. What kind of take-outs?”

“We voted for indian. Pandora has already requested two menus.”

Evan does not have many memories about Sirius Black but he has heard enough to picture his character. Their families were somewhat close, at least enough to share the kind of prideful dinners rich and powerful families prepared. That’s where Evan met Regulus and Sirius the first time, playing with them despite their slight age difference. Every year, Sirius Black got more troublesome whilst Regulus stayed quiet and amenable. Evan and Pandora liked them, the only relief from these endless dinners, though Regulus lost his vitality once Sirius left their home.

Pandora has always been rebellious in a way, though not quite like Sirius who would tug on his formal clothes like they are chains and be as insolent as possible. Thankfully his twin only had peculiar interests rather than fighting authority which saved Pandora from any rough punishment from their father. Evan doesn’t know much outside of what their father asked them to do and learn compared to her.

It’s rare but it happened that Regulus talked about Sirius, but nothing like the rumors or hatred from the adults. It mostly came out when he was sentimental and clearly missing his brother; Evan has probably only seen these glimpses because his twin and him got rather close over the years, especially since they moved in to help Regulus after Alphard’s death.

Regulus has told him that Sirius can be aggressive and obnoxious but that’s his shield - the only way he seems to know how to act since their parents never listened, that’s why his big brother only got louder each time. They still never listened. Regulus affirms that Sirius is actually soft and sincere but rarely ever showed his side outside from when they were by themselves. Though Evan can remember how nice Sirius was when they played, up until an adult stepped too close or called for them. There was always a chilling shift there.

The fondest memory Regulus seems to have is when he started to realise that he is more a boy than a girl and how Sirius has never questioned it and took it in stride, even protecting Regulus from their parents when they caught on his attempts to dress up more like a boy and even taking the fall when Regulus cut his hair.

It’s obvious that Regulus still cares about Sirius even if he is upset that his brother left him alone. Evan can see why Sirius ran away as he recently left his father’s side with Pandora because of how controlling and unsafe it has always been. He finds it rather brave of Sirius to run away so young but he also can’t imagine how he would have felt if Pandora ran away without him. Evan had always been worried that Pandora might be sent off marrying someone just for some business deal but surprisingly his father never appeared to try to separate them even for money. It’s probably the same thing for the Blacks, a weird feeling that they are still centuries back where what only matters is money and power.

Not that Evan really complains about the money. Regulus has Alphard’s inheritance, enough for them three he said, since Evan isn’t sure what to do now that his father isn’t spitting orders at him. Pandora always seemed to know what she was meant to do and rarely, if ever, showed any hesitation. They have covered their tracks but the fear that their father might show up is still here.

Despite their surprised guest, the night goes well. Sirius goes a bit overboard with the take-outs but at least they will have food for perhaps a day or even two for all of them. Pandora is the perfect host and Evan tries to participate, whilst Regulus stays mostly quiet as he observes his brother telling what he did ever since he ran away.

He has scrambled around, worked illegally because no one wanted to hire a teenager with no paper and more than often stayed in abandoned spots before finally landing at a tattoo shop where he managed to become an apprentice. He has finished it only recently which is why he didn’t come back earlier, though he doesn’t say if he plans to open shop here, before showing some of his tattoos to Pandora at her request.

“This is amazing,” she compliments, curiously touching the tattoos on his fingers. “Have you ever made a Triquetra before?”

“A what?”

Regulus frowns at Pandora before glancing at Sirius. “That’s the three-pointed symbol, even Alphard used it.”

“Oh, that one,” he recalls. “I have one actually, on my hip. I didn’t know where it came from but it was always on my mind so I did one.”

“You want a tattoo now?” Evan asks her.

She smiles. “Why not?”

Regulus’ eyes stay a bit on Pandora before he slightly shakes his head slightly, focusing on his food. Evan puts that on Pandora’s usual scheming even if she smiles wildly at him and snuggles to his side, which often means that she is planning something that might concern his twin. He knows her by heart and while she has always enjoyed physical contact, even something as small as holding pinkies, this is a clear sign that her brain is working overtime.

They both go upstairs after storing the rest of the food in the fridge to give Regulus some personal time with his brother. Evan can’t help but watch them a bit. They are slightly uncomfortable, with Sirius on the couch playing with his rings watching Regulus who doesn’t meet his eyes but still stays put. It’s probably a good sign. As long as they don’t start screaming at each other during the night.

“Don’t worry Evan,” Pandora whispers just before she walks in her room. “They both love each other. A bit of time and talking will help them.”

“I’m not worrying,” he argues because it’s always a bit annoying that his twin can read him like that when he can’t.

She chuckles and kisses his cheek with a last hug. “Sleep well. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

In his bedroom, he needs to pull the curtains close because the full moon targets his room like a lighthouse. Thankfully the night is peaceful, he fell asleep before even hearing Sirius or Regulus coming up to their rooms. Their bedrooms mirror each other.

Evan is amongst the last ones to wake up and finds himself rather cold so he puts a small wool vest over his pajamas to walk downstairs for breakfast. Pandora is in the garden, gathering flowers and preparing it for the winter despite the rain. She likes to explain what she does and Evan indulges her but more than often it drifts to witchcraft and what not. Evan likes to lean toward logic and numbers so he is a bit troubled when he can’t properly find what to say to her with all that knowledge; even if she promises that she is just happy that he listens to her.

“Hey, slept well?” He asks when Regulus finishes his coffee.

It’s always better to wait until he has drunk his daily cup to expect a good morning instead of a curse.

“Fine,” Regulus replies and brushes his hair with his hand.

“What about Sirius?”

He shrugs, putting a bit of water in his empty cup before letting it sit in their sink. “We talked. He wants to walk me to my shift as if I’m a bloody child.”

Evan watches him prepare a sandwich before trying to hear if Sirius is still upstairs but it’s quiet. “Is he staying here then? Have you two— made up?”

“I don’t know. Sirius hasn’t changed so I won’t hold my breath,” he answers before facing him with a slight frown. “Do you mind?”

“What? No. I’m happy if you are. Sirius seems to be a good guy, from what I have seen and what you told me before.”

Regulus’ lips tick but are pursed before they can smile. “Yes…” He clears his throat as he picks a part of the takeouts to put it in his bag for work. “Anyway, I already have to deal with Snape at work so I need all my strength to not end up dead or in prison so I’m going to leave before Sirius can follow me.”

“Please torture Snape, better go with a bang than nothing.”

Regulus chuckles and pours hot tea in his thermos. He has been working part-time beside his studies to have a bit of money since he wants to avoid touching Alphard’ inheritance unless it’s really needed. He has this one annoying coworker - Severus Snape - that always leaves Regulus in a foul mood.

“I will keep that in mind. I don’t know what’s Sirius is going to do today beside wandering around but tell him to fuck off if he starts to be annoying.”

He quickly leaves the house with a goodbye to him and Pandora. Evan finishes his tea as he wonders what he could busy himself with today. Perhaps he can offer Sirius some help if he has more stuff of his to move here; he has only come with one big backpack but there could be more. Pandora looks rather busy and wouldn’t mind another pair of hands, especially considering the downpour still going but she seems happy with her umbrella as she works in the garden.

“Did Reggie leave already?”

Evan turns to see Sirius walking in the kitchen, grabbing the empty cup beside the coffee maker. His hair is disheveled and he isn’t wearing a shirt. Evan isn’t that surprised that he is shameless and he looks curiously at all the tattoos. It’s an intricate mix of norse runes and alchemy symbols but it works perfectly as a whole.

“You just missed him,” he replies.

Sirius sighs. “Well I should leave him alone for a while. Probably.”

Evan isn’t sure what he should say. “What do you usually eat for breakfast?”

He shrugs and sits beside him. “Whatever there is. I don’t mind take-outs.”

“I was planning to make myself some toasts and eggs.”

He smiles. “Would love that.”

Cooking is still a bit of an experiment for Evan but he enjoys it. It’s rather satisfying that he can make something good for his twin, Regulus and now Sirius who compliments on his plate with a smile. They quietly eat as Sirius wanders through the kitchen, plate in hand, munching on the food while observing the kitchen. He is probably comparing the kitchen with his childhood’s memories.

“Do you like witchcraft?”

Sirius turns to him with a surprised tilt of his head. “What?”

Evan gestures to his tattooed chest. “Panda is really into it so I know a bit from what she explained to me. You have a lot of runes and alchemy patterns so I figured you must be into that too.”

“Oh, well not really?” He replies and puts his last fork in his mouth, quickly swallowing. “I looked into their meanings before doing anything but I just really like them. They called me sometimes.”

“Called you?”

“Yeah. You never had that before?”

Evan considers it as his eyes fall on the symbol Pandora asked about yesterday. It’s a bit familiar and the more he looks at Sirius’ Triquetra on his hip, the more appealing it seems. Still, Evan is unemployed and doesn’t really have the money to indulge into that hobby. Better leave that to Pandora.

“I mean I have read books and had Halloweens but outside of that, not really.”

“Hum… I don’t know if I believe in everything but it’s nice to think that magic exists.”

Evan snorts as he heads toward the sink to start washing the dirty dishes. “Really? Magic?”

“Yeah, don’t you think it would be great if we were wizards, witches or something like that?”

“I don’t know, if it made life less complicated then maybe yes.”

Sirius laughs before stepping closer to the sink. “Do you need help? I can do it if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. There isn’t a lot to do anyway.”

“See? If we had magic then you wouldn’t have to wash the dishes,” he comments with a proud smirk.

“In that case that would be great,” he drawls out with an amused smile. “Do you have plans today? If you need help to move or tidy your room I’m free. Panda’ too but she is organizing the garden this morning since winter is starting.”

“Thanks but I only had my bag,” Sirius explains. “I didn’t have a lot. Since I planned to come back to see Reggie, maybe stay with him too, I never really— had a lot of things on me. To travel light, you know?”

“Oh I see.” Sirius sometimes sounds like he was homeless for a while and never truly found a safe place to live but Evan keeps his questions to himself. “Hum I have some clothes if you want that I don’t mind sharing with you if you need. Reg’ is a bit smaller than you, though you probably will manage to find something of your size, but I’m not sure he will be happy if we go through his closet.”

Sirius looks surprised and blinks a few times before slowly smiling, an expression more tender, surprising Evan.

“Thanks… That’s nice,” he articulates and quickly clears his throat, a bit embarrassed. “I should have enough but thank you for the offer. I actually saved a bit of money so I might try some thrift shops today and dig through the house to see if there is still some of my old stuff that Orion didn’t throw away.”

“Maybe in the attic.”

“Attic? We have an attic?” Sirius asks, surprised.

“Hum yes? Regulus went there last night but maybe he didn’t lock it. I didn’t know about it either.”

“Huh… I will check it out. Thanks for the tip.”

Evan doesn’t try more small talk even if he wants to hear about him. Today he could try to clean the attic but he is worried about overstepping since Regulus hasn’t talked about what he wants to do with it. It’s also Pandora’s day off from the animal centre so he could go out with her if she wants to. He is curious about Sirius though but he figures that if he gets to know Sirius, maybe get along with him, then it might be easier for Regulus too. The whole Black family has always sounded like a mess to his ears. Regulus is not a complete mess, just human, so he hopes it’s the same for his brother. Hopefully Sirius is really trying to salvage what he can with him rather than messing around.

“I will see you later,” Sirius says, dropping by the kitchen, dressed up for the day with his black leather jacket.

Evan frowns. “Wait, do you have the key?”

“Yup, still remember where it was usually hidden. No worries, I will make a spare one today and put this one back.”

“Oh, alright,” he says and supposes that he cleared that with Regulus.

It’s not like Sirius tried to sneak in last night, he knocked on the front door. Plus Regulus is clearly happy even if he tries to hide it - Evan can spot the signs even if he has only complained about Sirius; if Regulus was really angry he would harass his brother like a clingy parasite and torment him with innocent looks. 

Something catches his attention on the back of his Sirius’ leather jacket. Evan shakes the water his hands as he quickly walks to him.

 “Sirius, wait.”

“What?” He stops at the threshold of the kitchen, turning around with his heavy boots.

Evan frowns and reaches out for the small lint. “You have some du-”

His stomach churns when he touches his jacket. Evan sees Sirius thrown against a wall with a hand around his throat. Whoever is choking him furiously is no one he recognizes but Sirius fights back the best he can before falling slack.

“Evan?”

He gasps, startling when he sees Sirius frowning worryingly at him in front of him. He takes a quick step back.

“W-what?”

They are back in the kitchen. No one’s hand is around Sirius’ throat and he looks perfectly alive. Whatever wall was slammed into him isn’t near them— it was darker.

“Are you… alright?” Sirius asks, glancing down at Evan’s fingers with the lint he picked up from his jacket. “You sort of went off for a second there.”

Evan swallows as he tries to understand what he just saw. It feels like he got slapped with a short movie in his face. “I what?”

“Did you get shocked?” He wonders, touching the sleeve of his jacket with a curious look. “It looked like it. Your face is all scrunched up.”

“Hum, maybe,” Evan blurts out. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

Sirius isn’t convinced and his hands hover around him with a frown. “Perhaps you should sit down– you really look shaken up.”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“Okay…”

Evan forces a smile. “I’m good. Maybe I just need to eat a bit of sugar or something,” he quickly explains and turns to the teapot, checking if he needs to make more.

That was really weird. It felt a bit too real but Evan tries to convince himself that he really just needs a cup of tea to wake up. Maybe he overslept and that’s why his brain is a bit messy.

What was even that scenario? Sirius was choked, probably to death, by a man he has never seen - he can still see the profile of that person as clear as the pot he puts on to boil fresh water. Perhaps he has seen this man before but forgot. He has read somewhere that all the faces you see in dreams are one you have seen once even if you don’t notice it.

“Evan?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised but his heart still jumps like a jack-in-the-box. Sirius smiles carefully at him when he turns to meet his eyes.

“Yes?”

“I need to ask— are you and Reggie..?”

Evan’s eyes widen and shakes his head. “What? No. No!”

“I just had to ask.”

“Reg’ is like a brother to me. And to Panda, really,” he promises. “Just brothers.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius chuckles. “I’m just happy that Reggie found some people to trust here. That’s why I was curious about you and your twin. He told me the same, that you’re family at this point and that you both needed a place to stay… But I figured that he also wouldn’t share about his private life if he ever had one.”

Evan laughs a bit. “Well, that’s true.”

He is still reeling from that short weird experiment even after Sirius left. The tea calms his nerves but he still can’t come up with a proper explanation about what happened. This hit him like a flash, a punch to the guts, and he doubts that he actually got somewhat shocked from such a contact. Plus Sirius would have felt it first if his jacket had static electricity since he put it on himself. There is also no shock that could make Evan imagine this whole– scene. Maybe he dreamt it during his sleep and only remembered now.

Pandora notices his mood but he lies, telling her he just got a headache. She burns a candle for him to relax. He can’t focus on something else though but doesn’t want to bother her more. Pandora goes upstairs to order everything that she has gathered from the garden and he considers helping even if it means just drying petals, plants or crushing them. A knock on the front door cuts his momentum and Evan leaves the couch to open it, figuring that a distraction is always welcomed.

“Hello there,” their post-woman greets him with a smile. “It’s a downpour today, uh?”

“It is.” Evan chuckles. “Hope you don’t have too much work Nancy. Only ducks would be happy to work with that weather.”

“Hah, don’t worry about me,” she says. “I’m more than used to it.”

Nancy is perfectly covered with her cap and hood but still, she must have been out under the rain and the cold for at least an hour at this point. Her cheeks are a bit flushed already.

“Do you want a warm drink?” He offers.

“That’s kind of you but I have my thermos so I’m all set to survive this morning,” she chuckles with red cheeks. “Here is your newspaper and there is also this package for you.”

“Oh. That’s new,” he says when he spots the package in one arm as she takes out the newspaper from her coat to place it on top of it.

Regulus or Pandora never mentioned that they are expecting something. Evan takes the package from her hands, brushing one with his, and sucks in a gasp when he feels the same slap as before.

Nancy walks away from him, heading toward the street with a last look at Evan as if to say something before her foot slips on one of the steps. She falls hard, grimacing and shouting in pain.

“Well, gotta go,” Nancy says, looking flustered by how she glances down to her feet, already walking down the first step before Evan even digested what he saw.

Except that just like what blinded him— she shifts on her feet to look at him as she continues to walk down. She is about to speak when her foot lands on the step Evan saw her fall on. He jumps before he realises, the package falls heavily on the floor, and he manages just in time to catch her by her waist. She yelps a bit, surprised, and flushes red before scrambling on her feet.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes!” She exclaims, staring at the stairs as she almost runs off. “Sorry and thank you!”

Evan frowns at her and offers a small wave when she quickly looks back but she only rushes away before realising that she missed her car, running back to it. He looks down at the step where he saw her fall— almost since Evan saved her from that.

“What the hell was that?”

This has felt exactly like what he saw for Sirius and this time it was clearly going to happen if Evan hadn’t moved. Did he see in the future for a second there? Or did he just manage to guess that this step was dangerous for Nancy– no way that’s possible. His hand brushed hers and he was hit by the same sudden force and ringing in his ears, just like when he touched Sirius’ jacket.

“Evan? Is everything alright?”

He turns to see Pandora at the entry of Grimmauld Place, only realising now that he was standing under the rain, before quickly walking back inside.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just— the headache.”

She chuckles. “Did you think the rain would help with that?”

Evan licks his lips and picks up the package and the newspaper before closing the door. “Maybe.”

Sirius has the worst luck ever. There aren’t many people who will tell you that they went to a thrift shop to find one of their exes, who you haven’t talked to over a whole year, when they have just moved to the capital. Sirius has actually hoped to surprise Marlene, finding her by chance in London since she moved here two years ago, but of course he can’t end up meeting his best friend but instead his ex.

Everything went well before that. He wandered through London, to the spots he was the most familiar with to check what had changed or what might be new and catch his attention. He got lost in his memories and soon lunch came but he opted to look at another thrift shop first; in case he needs to have a comfort meal if he finds nothing. Of course now he won’t get any of that since his ex showed up out of nowhere.

“You look,” Gideon smiles nervously, “you look great Sirius.”

He frowns at him, tapping a finger on his crossed arms. “What are you doing here? I’m perfectly aware that your band isn’t playing any time soon in London.”

“I heard from your boss that you decided to move here.”

“Here are your teas,” the waitress blurts out and puts their cups on the table with a nervous glance at Gideon.

“Thank you.”

He smiles pleasantly at her and Sirius opts to roll his eyes not too hard. Of course one of the members of the Weird Sisters would be recognized in London. Thankfully she doesn’t ask for an autograph or a picture, maybe because Sirius is in a bad mood.

“I sure hope you didn’t follow me here Gideon,” he warns, taking his cup in hand. “We have broken up over a year now.”

“That’s because you said you wanted to focus on your apprenticeship,” he argues.

“And the fact that I didn’t call didn’t ring a bell?” He scoffs back.

Gideon tilts his head with an amused smile. “Come on Sirius. I just want to talk, alright? Plus we had something great going on, didn’t we? I figured that we could continue once you’re free and less stressed about getting a job. Not that you need one.”

It’s true that it was what Sirius had planned. Gideon has always been a great boyfriend even with his busy schedule with the band but— Sirius also completely forgot about him. It’s not even that he was hard-working on becoming a tattoo artist but he also didn’t find the desire to call him again. He has good memories of him but nothing made him think of contacting him ever again.

“Well you could have wrote me a letter instead of being a stalker.”

“Stalker? Sirius, you're overreacting.”

He squints at him. “How did you even know in which shop I would be? Did you also follow me home?”

“I do have your address but I was also shopping for myself, if you haven’t noticed my bag.”

Sirius squints at the bag laying at his feet, half-considering stealing it just for the sake of it since he didn’t want to be followed by Gideon through the shop. At least he gets a free drink from that.

His phone rings. It’s only a text but he decides to act like it’s the most important thing at the moment— praying that it gives him an escape from this messy break-up that is about to happen. It’s not even like he promised Gideon that they would ever go back together.

From 020 XXXX XXXX:

    Hey Sirius, its Evan

    Reg gave me your phone number

Sorry I didnt think of asking you first but I need to call you if you are free at some point?

“I have to take that.”

Gideon frowns. “Is it your brother? Everything alright?”

“Yes,” he retorts. “Just need to call him very quick.”

He smiles, ever so pleased, but Sirius recognizes it as the one he wears around his fan. It would have worked on him before— after all that’s why Sirius sneaked in the backstage to snog him, but he has moved on. Sirius decides to return it with a sharper touch, a fair warning that they aren’t going to play boyfriends anymore.

Evan immediately picks up the phone. “Sirius?”

“Yeah. Is everything alright?”

“You’re free right now?”

Sirius glances at Gideon, still watching him, even when the waitress shyly approaches him now that he is free.

“As a bird.”

Evan sighs out. “Okay, hum… This might sound crazy but just answer me if you can, alright?”

“What? What’s going on?” He frowns.

“Do you know a man with long hair? Like shoulder-length?”

Sirius keeps his frown but tries to not let anything else appear when he glances at Gideon and his hair. He can think of several people if he isn’t honest but his ex-boyfriend is right in front of him.

“Yes..?”

“Is it light? Like not too much. I’m not sure,” Evan mutters. “But it’s a bit curly. A small beard too.”

Sirius leans back in his chair and shifts the phone to whisper. “And a moustache?”

“Yes? Yes!”

“I think I know who you are talking about.”

“Really?” Evan bursts out. “Are you serious?”

“I am always Sirius.”

His joke must have landed because he gets no immediate reply.

“I’m trying to be s— I’m just surprised.”

“What are you on about though?” Sirius asks with a quick look around just in case someone else has followed him.

“I thought I was crazy! Do you have a picture or a name?”

“Er, yes but now I’m a bit… Look, what is that about?”

Evan sighs. “If I told you, you might think I’m insane.”

“About what?”

“Just— if you know them try to avoid them, alright?”

Sirius purses his lips and notices Gideon observing him. He shifts to hide his phone. “Is everything alright?”

“Hopefully yeah,” Evan says, still as cryptic and with his voice going up and down with nerves. “Also you’ve got a package.”

“I got what?”

“A package arrived from the mail. It’s a bit heavy and it has your name on it.”

Sirius takes a deep breath but he openly glares at Gideon who slowly frowns in confusion. “From who?”

“Er, it says— let me check.”

“Sirius?” Gideon asks. “Everything’s fine?”

“Me? I’m chipper but you on the other hand I’m trying to decide.”

“What?”

“-Crumb!” Pandora shouts over the phone. “It says Gideon Crumb! Sirius, why didn’t you tell me that you are friends with one of the Weird Sisters’ members?”

“That’s him!” Evan exclaims just as Sirius hangs up.

“Gideon,” he growls.

“What? What happened S-”

“Oh don’t try to play the nice guy now!” Sirius hisses, standing up. “Did you bloody lurk around my house, you psycho?!”

The whole cafe falls quiet and the waitress that came over gasps with wide eyes on them. Gideon quickly takes a look around before swallowing and facing Sirius with a calm face.

“Sirius… I don’t know what you’re talking about but I didn’t go anywhere near your old place. I only sent a pack-”

“You sent a package? Whatever for?” He growls, standing up.

“Sirius, please, sit down.”

“No I’m not. Because you’re supposed to be at the other side of the country, where I left, and yet somehow you followed me all the way here! Without asking me first!”

“You’re making a scene-”

“You bet I am when I got a bloody stalker!”

Gideon stands up with a glare. “Stop calling me that! I only wanted to offer you something because you left before I could congratulate-”

“We broke up a year ago! How come you didn’t move on?!”

“You asked me to wait for you!”

Sirius scoffs with a shake of the head. “I never did. I told you I want to focus on getting a job before anything else and that I couldn’t follow you to all your concerts anymore.”

“I didn’t mind that!”

“And then I realised that maybe I didn’t want to get back with you,” Sirius says, ignoring him. “The fact that I didn’t reply to any of your texts or calls over a year didn’t make that clear to you?”

“That’s why I came here,” Gideon points out. “To talk!”

“I don’t want to talk with you,” he argues and glances at his unfinished tea before glaring at him. “Don’t even try to come near me again.”

“What? Sir-”

Gideon is a bit taller than Sirius so he easily leans over the table to grab his arm, which he immediately fights off with a sharp jerk. Sirius puts nowhere to strength to send Gideon flying into the table behind him.

The whole cafe roars in surprise and the waitress rushes to Gideon’s side as the others try to salvage the plate and cups that fell when he landed on the table. His ex is a bit shaken up but probably not as much as Sirius who is pretty sure that he saw Gideon's feet off the ground. He hasn’t even touched him but it’s apparently enough for every eye to turn to him like he is some monster.

Sirius decides that he really has the shittiest luck ever as he quickly runs off the scene. Only he could have a clingy ex, possible stalker because otherwise how could Evan even know what he looks like, and get banned from a cafe on his first day back in London and is now running under the rain like a maniac. If Gideon hadn’t tried to stop him leaving then maybe he wouldn’t have been pushed into this table! Not that Sirius even tried to really humiliate him or anything. He only wanted Gideon away.

Regulus figures that he is hallucinating. Although there aren’t many people rushing through the street without even an umbrella when it’s pouring cats and dogs. There are less people walking around with only a leather jacket on their back and long black hair though. Thankfully Sirius hasn’t stopped by the small bakery Regulus is working at, but it was certainly him rushing like a bullet.

Evan hopefully didn’t ask him for Sirius’ number just to send his brother to pester him at work. Pandora could have come up with that idea and stole his phone for that.

To Evan:

I think I just saw my brother running past my shop You better have not told him about where I work

From Evan:

What? Really?? I swear I didn’t How did he look? Fine?

To Evan:

What do you mean I dont know he was running Evan?

Regulus frowns at his phone when he doesn’t get a reply for a few minutes. Evan is the one who asked out of nowhere for Sirius’ number without specifying what for; it better not be some kind of crush on his brother because Regulus will poison everyone then himself just for that thought. But he figures that it is only because Sirius moved in and they probably need to chat about the house or something like that. Still, it’s starting to worry him considering Evan’s texts.

“Your phone, Regulus.”

His jaw tightens but Regulus exhales the curse climbing up his throat as he glances at Snape glowering at his side.

“There is no customer,” he retorts.

“This doesn’t mean you can be rude.”

Regulus seethes quietly and turns back to the few tables busy in their small bakery. It’s a bit busy, especially with the amount of rain drowning London since this morning, but everyone is served and happy so Snape is just being a pain in the ass.

Evan has commented on how it doesn’t make sense that someone like Snape is working here when he is everything but sweet in a bakery shop; even Pandora doesn’t like him and she can feel sad about the trash forgotten by people: ‘we hate them when they are merely the victims of people lack of love’. Sirius would probably try to punch him the moment Snape opens his mouth and Regulus decides to store that idea for later.

It’s obvious that Snape has a problem with him, though the reason is a mystery, but Regulus wouldn’t be surprised that someone like Snape has a problem with his ‘gender’. Morons, terfs, racists and pigs - of course not the animal - are synonyms for each other after all.

One of their regulars is missing and Regulus is slightly disappointed that he doesn’t show up with the new groups of people. Remus seems to have come to this bakery before Regulus even started working here. He is always asking for a hot chocolate and an espresso on the side plus whatever catches his eyes from the daily fresh pastries or salty snacks. Regulus and him have started a sort of system whenever Snape starts to act up, even though he isn’t Regulus’ superior or anything else, with glances and ticks on their lips. Regulus only knows that Remus lives not far and is a teacher which explains the tons of papers he brings if it’s not his usual books. Usually the weather doesn’t bother him but he supposes that today the rain is too much to venture outside.

Dorcas comes out of the kitchen with a long trail full of small cakes ready to be bought for the afternoon. Regulus helps her as she glares at the trail.

“Snape can’t even bother to help,” she hisses.

“This isn’t new.”

Frankly Snape should have been fired a long time ago. He barely even bakes or has any skills to serve and help customers, at least the decorations around the shop are pretty to look at compared to Snape. Still, somehow he is still sticking around to torment them.

“We better get ready for more people with this weather,” Dorcas says with a squint at the large windows of the shop. “You’re lucky you’re done in a few.”

“And Snape finishes at the same time as me so you will be free from him,” Regulus reminds.

A few people come to the counter to order. Regulus is still worried about his brother and how weird Evan was. He could at least answer to him but thankfully work helps him to focus on something else.

“By the way,” Dorcas says when all clients are satisfied and Snape is still in the back. “We didn’t have the time to talk because of our local pest but what was that about your brother? I didn’t even know you had one.”

Regulus almost wants to say that he also didn’t know considering that Sirius disappeared without a look back. He could have followed him, that’s true. Still, he isn’t sure yet on how to digest the presence of Sirius around.

“Yes… He left a long time ago and he suddenly decided to come back,” he explains. “I’m the first one surprised to be honest.”

“Is it a good or a bad thing?”

Regulus shrugs with a glance at her. “I’m not sure yet. Hopefully it’s good.”

He has missed Sirius over the years. When their mother died and then their father, Regulus had expected that his brother would come back upon the news; there would be no one else to hurt them after all. Sirius never came back though, even at Alphard’s funeral he barely stayed. Regulus had been probably lucky that he spotted him before he disappeared.

A mother and her little boy come in to pick a cake. Regulus handles it while Dorcas cleans some of the tables. Her son is very excited, chattering, almost putting his hand on the glass before his mother quickly stops him and explains to not do it. They pick a cake for her wife’s birthday, one with hues of blues, and Regulus offers to write down her name on it and add a little bit of decorations.

“Mum, mum, look how pretty it is!” Her son cheers, bouncing on his feet as Regulus puts it in a box after showing his work. “Yum!”

His mother chuckles and pets his hair with a smile at Regulus. “Thank you very much. I didn’t think of ordering until now.”

“We always have cakes around for this kind of last-minute emergency,” he assures with a smile because he can’t help but feel proud that they picked his cake. “Hope you will enjoy it.”

“I will!”

“Shush, don’t shout here,” she cautions. “You can carry it home if you promise to be careful.”

“I will, I will,” her son promises with an avid look at the box.

Regulus snorts quietly before putting it in a bag because of the rain and offering it to him. “Keep it flat, alright? Don’t squish it.”

“Yes, sir,” he chirps with a determined look as he slides his hands under the box.

Regulus hears someone chuckling and his eyes can’t help but widen at the literal— Adonis waiting behind the little family; who smiles when he sees that Regulus noticed him, eyes grinning behind his round glasses. There is no way Regulus can handle the sight of a fit, warm-toned lad, when he is reaching the end of his shift with a pestering Snape and with the sudden shock of his brother’s return.

“Car-”

The boy gasps, tripping on his untied shoelaces when he tries to walk away. Regulus immediately focuses back on him as the cake slips out of his grasp. He reaches out, managing to grab it with a relieved sigh. Thankfully, Regulus has stayed near the lower table so he could easily lean on it to have the extra-length.

“Are you…”

He stares at the unnerving silence. The boy is still falling but frozen in the movement. Regulus slowly realises that no one else is breathing beside him.

His eyes wander to all the people, stopping mid-movement as they are about to eat or drink. Dorcas stays still at a table, with a hand reaching for an empty cup but never touching it, but her head is turned toward the counter as she must have seen the catastrophe coming. Regulus slowly exhales through his nose. The rain is still pattering on the windows, not disturbed, by what’s going on.

“Hello?” Regulus articulates.

Even the Adonis is frozen, eyes on Regulus, and the clock has stopped clicking. This could be an elaborate prank but— the boy is falling but frozen in mid-air. No one could ever do that and his mother’s face is petrified with a sudden panic and her hand reaching out empty. Regulus wets his lips and takes another look around. The bag with the cake is in his hands, moving if he shifts it, which would mean that everything beside him suddenly stopped. It’s insane, complete nonsense, but Regulus is scared of doing the wrong thing. 

A car drives by, outside. The bag shifts to only one of his hands before he slowly leans toward the frozen boy. Whose mouth is parted in surprise and his eyes are heavy with surprise but he doesn’t blink or breath. Regulus grabs him by his hood stuck in the hair and the boy restarts falling.

“-eful!”

“Ah!” The boy squeaks, weighing down in Regulus’ hand who holds him from falling on his arse.

His mother catches him by his arms before realising that Regulus grabbed him first. She looks up in surprise as Dorcas quickly runs to their side upon seeing what happened.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes,” the mother says, still in shock but probably nowhere near the one Regulus is still trying to understand. “You are incredibly fast. Thank you.”

“You saved the cake!” Her son cheers before glancing down at his mother's gaze.

Regulus lets go of him since he is back on his feet and glances at the cake before looking at them. “Er, yes. Good reflexes.”

Dorcas observes him before smiling at the family. “Just a small scare.”

“I will carry that,” the mother quickly says, taking the bag off his hands once she checks on her son. “Better be safe than sorry.”

“But mu-”

“I told you to tie your shoes,” she argues with a pointed look at his pout. “Next time you will know better. Now thank them and say goodbye.”

“Thank you mister,” he mumbles out with a bitter look at the cake his mother keeps out of reach. “Goodbye.”

Regulus forces a smile as they walk out. Dorcas frowns at him and quickly steps around to get behind the counter, putting down the dirty dishes she had fetched.

“Reg’? You alright?” She whispers.

He shakes his head before blinking. “I honestly don’t know.”

She looks at him up and down before glancing at the people in the bakery, living and moving like nothing happened.

“You’re done in ten minutes, just go. I can deal with that. You look like you might faint.”

Regulus wets his lips before nodding. “Thanks.”

He stays quiet as he rushes to the locker room to change himself as fast as he can. He can’t help but replay what happened in his head— this couldn’t be a prank. Except that there are also not many options outside of that.

“Leaving already?” Snape asks when Regulus leaves the locker room for the exit in the back.

Regulus ignores him and quickly walks under the rain. Did time actually stop? Why was he the only one moving? Just like the mother, he reached out to catch what he could. But she was as frozen as everyone else.

The rain gets furious but he barely feels it as he hurries back home. It’s not far but his mind is running faster than he can, barely recognizing the turns as his own voice rings in his head: I call upon the Ancient Power.

Regulus pinches himself as if the cold and a raindrop falling right into his eye aren’t enough to make him groan in pain. He is perfectly awake and aware of what’s around him. What happened in the bakery— this looked like magic, which shouldn’t exist and Regulus has grown out of that phase a long time ago. Except that time is often an old, ancient, power isn’t it? That would fit what the book said. But this can’t be real.

Regulus shakes his head and takes out his phone to check his texts. There isn’t anything from Sirius or Evan so he opts to try to call them. His phone coughs like a dying machine into his ear and he quickly needs to take it away from his face because of the buzzing. It doesn’t look dead though as he can still go to his different screens and texts,but there is no connection. Regulus harshly huffs through his nose in frustration.

Grimmauld Place is in his view soon enough, just as a thunderbolt strikes startling him. He quickly walks inside, shutting the door behind him. The light is weak and he frowns at it but his focus is quickly on the cold and the weird smell.

“Evan? Panda? Sirius?”

Pandora walks out from the kitchen, draped with a heavy sweater, and a frown that clears up when she spots him.

“Reggie!” Her cheer quietens abruptly. “Hum… This is maybe a bad time.”

“Bad time? Why?” He asks. “Did you turn off the heat? And are you cooking again? You buy the new pots this time.”

“Er, well. It's not me.” She glances around the house. “We don’t know. It stopped by itself and even the electricity jumped on and off.”

“Is it Reg’?”

“Yes!” She replies to Evan who quickly walks in the dining room to see Regulus taking his shoes off in the foyer.

“Are you alone?”

Regulus frowns and puts his coat on the rack. Evan doesn’t look quite comfortable and it’s not because of the cold. Something is clearly going on and he is hit with another wave of anxiety as he sees again the whole scene of the frozen bakery.

“Yes? Why?”

The white cat in his arms is perfectly white and its grey, silver eyes slowly blink at Regulus; who recognizes it as the one who tried to sneak in many times, meowing and pawing at doors and windows. It looks quite regal and soft but Evan’s face doesn’t seem to take that in account because his face is twisted with a grimace.

“You… You will think that I’m insane.”

“No, you’re not,” Pandora says, stepping closer to her twin.

“What is going on? Don’t tell me that we are adopting this cat now.”

“Wait, that’s one thing,” Evan says as he comes closer to him. “It has a collar.”

“I could have guessed that it belongs to someone already,” Regulus drawls out. “No cat can stay this white in the streets of London.”

The cat meows back and stretches her neck as Pandora reaches for its dark green collar and the medallion on it.

“Look,” she insists. “It’s a Triquetra.”

It is one. This doesn’t help Regulus though— he has this itching in the back of his brain that screams Ancient Power and Give us the power as he recalls the feel of the Book of Shadows in his hands. Logically, this cat could have belonged to Alphard and this would explain why it kept sticking to Grimmauld Place or the choice of the medallion. Except that his uncle would have told him about that cat or at least mentioned to Regulus that he needs to take care of a pet when Alphard had gotten sick.

“And?”

“Something really weird is going on,” Evan insists as he lets the cat jump down. “But there are too many coincidences.”

“Coincidences?” Regulus asks curiously just as the cat rubs itself against his legs and scampers off in the living room. “Is it about Sirius? Or the house apparently falling apart?”

“Yes, maybe. I’m not sure.” Evan groans slightly when he gets a frown and rubs his eyes before he looks up. “Something happened to me. Really weird— which I wouldn’t have considered real if Pandora isn’t convinced that it’s magic.”

“Did you freeze people?”

Pandora gasps at him just as Evan watches him with a stunned face.

“What?”

“Did you stop time?” She asks with wide eyes.

“Time?! What do you mean time?!”

Regulus clears his throat. “Didn’t— that’s not what happened to you?”

“What the hell?” Evan articulates. “I saw into the future or something like that. Nothing as cool as bloody stopping time! How did you do that?!”

“I— I was working and this child almost dropped a cake,” he explains with his voice weakening. “Just everything stopped, people, Dorcas, the clock and the child mid-falling. Literally stuck in the air while everything outside the bakery and I still moved.”

“This is happening,” Pandora whispers with wide eyes.

“You saw into the future?” Regulus realises with wide eyes. “What do— is that why you asked for Sirius’ number?! What’s going on?”

“I saw him getting choked! This morning!”

“Choked?!” He shouts. “What do you mean choked! Why didn’t you tell me this first!”

“Because I didn’t know if it was real or not!” Evan argues with his hands flying around in confusion before he pushes his braided hair back. “Look, I spoke with Nancy when she dropped off the mail and I saw her slipping on one of the steps. I think that’s because I touched her hand. I thought I was going crazy but then it really happened in front of me so I stopped her from getting hurt.”

“You have the premonitions!” Pandora suddenly speaks out, far more loudly than she ever did, before she turns and grabs like a wild tornado Regulus, “and you, you got the freezing power!”

“The what?!”

“This means Sirius has the last one!”

“Panda, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Did Sirius do that to us?” Regulus asks. “Where the hell is he?”

Pandora’s eyes are huge, sparkling in excitement, as she looks at them like they are precious. “I never thought I would be here for that!”

“For what?”

“For the Charmed Ones!” She cheers, bouncing on her toes. “The power of three! All the witches know about it.”

Evan splutters. “The what now?”

Regulus stares at her. “Power of three..?”

“Panda, are you serious? I can get behind some crazy things but I’m not sure I can follow you there.”

“Yes! I am!”

“Wait,” Regulus blurts out. “Are you talking about what I found in this grimoire? It talked about the power of three.”

“A grimoire?!”

“You have one?” Pandora blurts out. “Where is it?”

“You’re not serious,” Evan articulates. “A grimoire? Witches?”

“It all exists!” She insists. “You felt it yourself, didn’t you? You saw into the future! And Reg’— you froze the bakery, right? There is no other explanation than magic.”

“Wait a second-”

“It all coincides perfectly! You said it yourself Evan,” she exclaims, “it’s too many coincidences. The house, the cat, what happened to the both of you– Sirius came back yesterday, this must have triggered the magic!”

“The attic opened up,” Regulus realises. “It never did before until now…”

“And you found a grimoire there?” Evan asks with a dubious frown. “Witchcraft?”

“You saw it yourself, Evan,” Pandora argues. “You got visions!”

“I read the first page,” Regulus recalls. “There was a bloody spell or something! I thought it was a joke.”

“Wait, I still don’t get it,” Evan says as he turns to Pandora. “Panda, I know you believe in these things but why aren’t you the one with powers then?”

She shrugs but her smile doesn’t diminish. “I don’t know. What I heard is that the Power of Three, to be Charmed Ones, is a prophecy about three sisters from the most powerful bloodline of witches.”

“Sisters? We’re men!”

Regulus frowns at Evan. “And we aren’t related by blood. Panda, are you sure-”

“I am!” She promises with a fierce look. “Listen, you have all the powers they are rumoured to have! One has premonitions, the strongest defensive magic, another can freeze and the other can move things with their minds!”

“Why the hell didn’t I get the moving thing?”

Regulus shakes his head. “I’m sorry I just can’t believe it-”

“Believe in yourself,” Pandora says and takes his hand. “You went into the attic for the first time yesterday, right? Where you found the grimoire, just when Sirius came back! Why would you read the incantation if you weren’t called to it?”

Evan stares at them in disbelief but Regulus can, just like him, only slowly swallows all of this information. The attic never ever opened up until now. Regulus could have easily closed the door last night. He had enough on his plate with Sirius’ return and his decision to stay with him. Except that Pandora is right. Regulus has been compelled to visit the attic and find that one plank of wood hiding the grimoire away.

“How do you know all of that?” He whispers. “You never spoke about that before, the Charmed Ones and all.”

Pandora shakes her head with an excited squealing. “Because I thought it was a legend unlike fairies or werewolves! Everyone believes in the Charmed Ones but they apparently have never existed yet or at least that’s what is said. I would have never thought that this would be you three!”

“Woah woah, wait a second,” Evan exclaims. “Fairies?! Werewolves?! Panda, are you seriously a witch?!”

She scoffs at him. “Of course I am. Though I don’t have powers like you or maybe I will get one now! If you have witch blood then so do I!”

“I’m going to faint.”

Regulus glances at him. “Wait— didn’t you say that Sirius gets choked?! When?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Well bloody know!”

Pandora shushes them. “Alright, take a deep breath. Premonitions aren’t always happening right away.”

“What about the postwoman?!” Regulus shrieks. “Didn’t that happen just after you saw it?”

Evan croaks mutedly with a small grimace. “I-”

“When did you see it?”

He sighs. “This morning when Sirius left. I touched his jacket and bam.”

“This morning?!” He shouts in horror and quickly steps back as he takes out his phone. “He isn’t answering me and— bloody hell it’s already mid-afternoon!”

“Sirius knows who is the guy I saw in that– thing in my head,” Evan points out. “That’s why I asked for his number!”

“Did you tell Sirius that he would get choked?”

“Are you mad? I didn’t think any of that was serious but better be safe than sorry,” he admits. “But Sirius knew him and this man even sent Sirius a package!”

“A what now?” He asks, quickly texting Sirius.

Pandora nods. “We opened it, just to be safe, but it’s only clothes - new and when I looked the name up well it’s actually a member of the Weird Sisters!”

“The band?”

“Yeah, Gideon Crumb. That’s him who I saw  and I checked with pictures.”

“This doesn’t answer my question if he already choked Sirius or not!” Regulus barks out and tries to call Sirius. “He could have been running away from him when I saw him! And my phone just doesn’t work!”

“But did you see someone after him?”

“I don’t think so…” Regulus worries his lips as the call cuts by itself. “Why is this phone not working?!”

“I think it’s because the whole house is wonky. Ours stopped working too.”

Evan glances at Pandora. “What? Is that your power?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Evan can’t you see if Sirius is alive or something?” Regulus asks. “Do your magic— or whatever!”

“I have no idea,” he admits with a sorry look. “I don’t even know how to make it happen.”

“I think we would know about Sirius in danger,” Pandora says. “Plus he has his power too so he must be able to protect himself. Evan also warned him about Gideon which means that perhaps it hasn’t happened because of that!”

“This is too many ifs,” Regulus shouts in frustration and grabs his coat. “I’m going to look for him!”

“Reg-”

“If this twat just came back to die the next day and forces me to do his bloody funeral then I will kill him myself!” The door stays as still as a fortification even when he tugs it with all his wrath. He turns around to look at Pandora and Evan. “What is wrong with it?!”

“Weird things have been happening all day,” Evan says with a nervous glance around. “Maybe it’s because of what you read?”

“How could I know that this grimoire was real?!”

“We should go check it,” Pandora cuts with a determined nod. “There must be spells and potions to help us and Sirius. Reg’, I’m sure that Sirius is fine.”

“Yeah and he has this big power of moving things around, doesn’t he? If we have– two of them and Panda doesn’t then Sirius is the last option,” Evan points. “That sounds more useful than mine.”

Regulus’ jaw tenses before letting go of the door’s handle. “Why is the door not moving?”

Pandora shrugs. “I suppose the house must be saying something? If your whole bloodline was witches then the house must have developed with some magic too. Perhaps we need to stay here.”

“Okay, this doesn’t explain why I’m somehow getting a power when it’s supposed to be for three sisters.”

“Bloody hell,” Regulus spits out and walks up to them with a rude gesture to the stairs. “Then let’s go look at this grimoire before I lose it!”

“How did you not know that your family are witches?” Evan asks as he follows him.

“What about you, uh?”

“It’s in our blood one way or another,” Pandora explains. “But it’s true that it’s strange that you didn’t have your powers until now… Or you Evan.”

“Well if it’s the power of three or whatever then maybe that’s because Sirius only came back now?”

Regulus sighs. “Somehow Sirius always manages to make it about hims-”

Pandora bumps into him when he stops in the middle of the second row of stairs with a small gasp. Regulus can feel Evan slowly tugging him back but he almost misses the step since his eyes are stuck on his mother.

Walburga Black stands in front of her portrait, in the exact same stance, but her eyes are stabbing right into him. She is paler and her clothes have the same strange hue as the rest of her but transparency doesn’t stop her aura to slowly dig her nails into his heart.

“[     ],” she hisses and all the windows ring in pain, “still playing as a boy.”

“Holy crap,” Evan gasps out.

“Reg’”, Pandora whispers.

“Mother?”

Her whole body suddenly jumps ahead as a sudden wind pushes itself in his body. Regulus almost slips down the stairs but he is held up.

“Everyone betrayed me!” Walburga shouts. “But I will get the powers that are mine!!”

“We need to ru-”

“Shut up you little bastard!” She shrieks.

Pandora is the first one who is thrown down, breaking a part of the stair’s balustrades, as Evan tries to catch her before he is hit himself in a wall and tumbles down the steps. Regulus stares at his mother, hovering in front of him with a horrid grimace, terrified. He is stricken when she sharply jerks her hand.

His head rings loudly against the wall, barely feeling his body as he plummets down the stairs. Windows shatter around them, covering the furious rain, and a panicked hiss rushes by. Regulus covers his head when he feels something falling on him.

“Regulus! We need to run!” Pandora shouts, pushing him up on his feet, before shrieking in surprise when another portrait explodes above them. “Evan! Evan, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he croaks out, standing up at the bottom of the stairs and his eyes widen when he spots them. “Get down!”

Regulus slips down a step as he and Pandora throw themselves down to avoid the myriad shards of glass flying into the wall beside them. He looks up to see a cabinet and broken pieces of wood, balustrades and a whole window spinning around his shrieking mother.

“The kitchen,” Pandora blurts out. “We need to get to the kitchen.”

He helps her stand up and quickly runs down the stairs as Evan rushes off when he becomes the target.

“Blasted children!” Walburga shrieks. “You are the bane of my existence! You don’t deserve my gifts, my powers!”

“Bloody stop her!” Evan shouts from his hiding spot in the living room. “Freeze her!”

Regulus reaches the ground floor with Pandora when he remembers it. He looks at Walburga, moving her hands around like whips and with a full cabinet thrown at them. Pandora shouts in surprise just as Regulus gestures at it with both hands.

“Holy shit,” he blurts out when the cabinet stays still in the air just like everything storming around his mother. “This is real.”

“That’s mine!” Walburga screams.

Pandora throws herself at Regulus just in time as the cabinet explodes in pieces along with the wall behind them because of a striding burst of wind. He gasps out as everything restarts around them.

“Wait— she didn’t freeze?”

“The kitchen!” Pandora screams.

The cat loudly hisses toward Walburga, following them as they scramble to the kitchen. Pandora opens a cupboard as more things seem to be cracked or shattered in Grimmauld Place.

“If Orion hadn’t killed me everything would have been perfect!” She screams like a dying whistle. “This bastard couldn’t do anything by himself and then begged me when I came back to kill him!”

Regulus crouches down when all the electronics explode in the kitchen. Evan joins him with his eyes wide on Pandora who keeps throwing all the cupboards open as the white cat walks back and forth anxiously under the table.

“Did your mother just say-” He trails off with a panicked look at Regulus. “That your father killed her and then she killed him?”

Regulus shrugs with a crazy chuckle because he is definitely losing his mind here. “How would I bloody know that?!”

Evan pushes him suddenly and jumps back on his arse, just before the buffet behind them crashes down to where they were. Regulus is as shocked as him.

“I found it!” Pandora exclaims and rushes to them with the jar of salt.

“Did you see that too?” He asks and Evan shakes his head, pale.

“Just a feeling.”

“You think you can hide from me?!” Walburga screams and all the windows explode in pieces. “I made you and I can destroy you if you don’t give me what is mine!”

The cat hisses and jumps at the highest point of view when his mother flies in the room with a look madder than it ever was, leaving the kitchen’s door shattered. Pandora throws salt in Walburga’s face before she barrels too close to them. She screams in pain, face literally in flames as she fights blindly drifting back.

“How did you do that?!”

“Salt works against ghosts,” she explains, shocked. “At least that’s what I heard.”

“Then make her disappear!” Regulus shouts.

“It only holds them back! We need a spell or a potion to stop her!”

“Try to freeze her again! Quickly!”

Regulus swears and throws his hands open toward his mother but she keeps moving. He tries several times before looking around to see that the cat is frozen mid-hiss.

“It doesn’t work on her.”

“Maybe because it’s a ghost,” Pandora breathes out.

“That’s such crap!”

Walburga fusses, staring at them with her eyes still flaming. Her whole body flickers with energy as her face grows more and more difform.

“How dare you attack me? Me! Your mother! Without me you would be nothing!”

“Take some salt,” Pandora says, “quickly and we run to the attic for the grimoire! We don’t have a ch-”

Regulus holds his breath when he hears the backdoor clicking open. Grimmauld Place’s back street is not well-known and he can’t even remember if he ever showed it to Evan and Pandora. He watches the door opening with hesitation and Sirius walks in with a frown at his phone.

“Urgh, you won’t belie-”

“Get down!”

Sirius doesn’t understand Regulus’ scream right away, even if he crouches a bit, but his eyes almost jump out when he sees their mother hovering like a storm in the kitchen before the kitchen table is thrown at him.

“Sirius!”

He shouts, jerking away, just as the table is sent back to Walburga who is unfazed. It breaks when it hits the wall, bringing down a painting.

“What the hell?!” Sirius screams, stepping back terrified with his eyes glued on the ghost. “Walburga?!”

“Sir-”

Regulus jumps on his feet with a handful of salt in hand to throw it on their mother, cutting her hissing. Sirius is speechless but Regulus doesn’t let him breathe and rushes to him.

“Snap out of it before she kills us!”

Sirius’ breath is shakingly exhaled and he quickly glances with red, fragile, eyes between him and Walburga - who screams harder behind them. Regulus quickly glances to see Pandora and Evan throwing more salt at her before he turns to his brother.

“Hurry!” Pandora shouts, hand in the pot. “We don’t have a lot!”

“What the hell is going on?” Sirius gasps out.

Regulus grabs him by his arms. “Sirius. No time to explain but you can throw stuff around, like the table-”

“What?! That was me?!”

“Yes! Now we need to get to the attic alive to find this bloody grimoire and send her to hell or whatever!”

Sirius shakes his head speechless just as Evan rushes to them.

“Can we go before she manages to kill us?!” He exclaims. “Try to freeze her or-or move her whatever!”

“Freeze her?” Sirius repeats, paling. “What’s happening?! Is that really Walburga?!”

“Who cares about that!”

“We need to run now!” Pandora warns, throwing the pot at Walburga but it only goes through her.

Regulus doesn’t give him the chance to ask anything more, dragging Sirius by his arm as they run out of the kitchen with the cat meowing after them distressed. His brother quickly catches on the run though.

“I need to know a little bit more!” He shouts.

“You’re the Charmed Ones!” Pandora cheers.

“Not the time!” Evan argues. “We need a bloody grimoire to kill or chase her off!”

“A what?!”

“We’re witches!” Regulus explains. “Maybe!”

“What’s happened to London?!”

The amount of salt seems to have slowed Walburga down enough because they are left at peace even when they reach the stairs.

“Wait, the front door!” Evan shouts, stopping at the first step. “That’s him!”

“Gideon?!” Sirius exclaims.

Regulus leans down to see a man looking around their destroyed foyer and the rest of the corridor before he quickly hurries when he catches their sight.

“I just wanted to check on you but then I heard all these noises– are you alright? What is going on? Why is everything broken?”

“Get the bloody hell out!” Sirius shouts.

“Get out!” Pandora agrees.

“Get him out,” Regulus hisses. “Throw him out or whatever!”

The front door slams closed. Gideon spins around with a small scream. Grimmauld Place shakes and heavy furnitures fall as the cat panics and twists around their feet to bound downstairs.

Walburga shoots through the air like a bullet, hitting straight on Gideon who is thrown unnaturally against the floor with a horrifying scream. Pandora gasps out and Regulus takes in her wide eyes when she weakly shakes him. The scream dies in a snap.

“Gideon?” Sirius whispers out.

“We need to go,” Pandora says with a nervous shake of her head. “She is in him.”

“What?”

“Sirius, let’s go,” Regulus says and grabs him but he stays put. “Sirius!”

“You.”

He freezes at the clear voice of their mother. It’s not an odd apparition anymore - he is back to his childhood where he neared the walls and made sure that he never breathed too loudly. Gideon raises but his face is twisted, a scream of murder and an awaiting wrath that will be unleashed.

“She is possessing him?” Evan realises in horror.

“You have always been my biggest mistake Sirius,” Walburga hisses as Gideon’s skin seems to jump as his body moves like a wild chained animal. “If I had known that Caradoc would have given me two children then I would have killed you at your birth!”

Regulus’ eyes widen, taking in his paralysed brother and the stunned faces of Evan and Pandora. “Isn’t Caradoc your father?”

Evan swallows and nods. Walburga finally gets on her feet, on Gideon’s feet, stumbling before a sound of bones crack echoing.

“I only needed three of you. But all these blasted men tried to fool me,” she darkly articulates with a twitching snicker. “I will get the powers that I created and then get rid of everyone who tried to cross me!”

She grabs a broken part of wood before rushing to them. Regulus startles with his hands out.

“Putain,” he blurts out when she is frozen. “It worked!”

He turns to them, relieved to see them still breathing but still stunned. Pandora shakes herself out of it after a second and quickly glances at Regulus before grabbing Evan and Sirius.

“The attic!”

They make the right move even if the first steps are clumsy before they dart upstairs because Walburga restarts moving, slowly, before screaming in abject horror before they even pass the first floor.

“Are you sure about it?!” Evan shouts.

“The book should have something!”

“We don’t have a choice-” Pandora shouts in surprise as the balustrade bends toward her, almost trapping her against the wall. “She still has powers!”

Regulus freezes his mother’s ascension but she fights through it, only stopping a second before slowly taking up her natural speed.

“Sirius, throw her down the stairs!”

“What?! I can’t!” He screams back after they barely avoided flying shards of glass. “That’s– she is inside Gideon?!”

“Just do what you did with the table!”

Sirius shakes his head distraught. Regulus swears under his breath and freezes Walburga again before running up the last stairs.

They manage to get in the attic with the cat running after them. Evan quickly closes the door and hesitates to stay next to it but quickly follows Regulus who darts to where he left the grimoire: on the lecter.

“What do we do?”

“There should be something against ghosts,” Pandora explains but doesn’t touch it. “I hope it’s a spell because I don’t know if we can do a potion.”

“Tell me Gideon is alive,” Sirius says.

She grimaces, lips croaking emptily before she purses her lips. “I– I don’t-”

They are thrown back, sliding violently against the opposite wall of the attic, just below the round window. The lecter topples and a large of the furnitures are blown away, leaving a direct path for Walburga who threw the door open.

“You’re fighting your own mother?” She spits out. “I know what’s best for you all foolish children. [    ], you were the one that could have made it work but Sirius poisoned you, made you a runt just like him with a sick, sick brain-”

“Shut up!” Sirius snaps, standing up with a glare before throwing his arm out.

Walburga is sent against the left wall, crashing down on dusty furniture.

“She only needed a real body,” Regulus realises.

“Can we get her out?” Sirius asks with a glance at them.

“Panda?”

She shakes her head, glancing at the grimoire laying not far from them. “I’m– I’m not sure!”

Evan groans out in pain as he throws himself to reach out for the heavy book. “I don’t bloody care.”

“Sirius!”

Walburga jumps on Sirius, tackling him against the wall before starting to choke him. He wheezes, fighting with his hands but her body doesn’t even stop. Regulus quickly tries to freeze her again before rushing to them when it doesn’t work. Walburga isn’t bothered by their scratching or the punches. A whistle cuts the Sirius’ gagging who has started to sob with the pain.

“Sirius! Use that!” Evan shouts and tosses the thick grimoire toward them.

Regulus steps back just as Sirius squints at it. The book is suddenly flung at Gideon’s head, properly knocking him off. 

“I didn’t say to use it like that!” Pandora shouts.

“That’s what I bloody saw!”

Sirius falls on his ass, loudly gasping for air with tears trailing down his face. Regulus crouches at his side, heart beating painfully, as he sees the red digging marks on his throat. He startles when Walburga stands up violently but before he can try to freeze her again - Gideon is violently thrown out of the round window. Regulus gapes before noticing Sirius’ raised hand while the other goes at his throat.

“Sirius,” he whispers, shaking. “Are you okay?”

“This fall better kills her,” he hisses out.

Pandora grabs the book before joining their side with Evan. “She is still a ghost so I’m not sure-”

The grimoire jumps out of her hands, pages flipping with no end before stopping on a page.

“The power of three spell?” Evan reads just as Sirius roughly clears his throat and coughs.

“This should work!” Pandora exclaims. “You three need to chant it, this should get rid of her!”

“Chant?”

“You need to– to be together to cast it! The three of you, your three powers, that’s what it means!”

A harsh cold sweeps in, violently blowing goods in one piece or more against the walls of the attic, as Walburga reappears in front of them with her body aberrantly formed. Regulus can’t help but think that it’s not even the worst she has ever been.

“I don’t need a body to remind you of who decides in this house!”

Regulus tightens his jaw and grabs Sirius’ hand and Evan’s as he jerks at the opened page of the Book of Shadows.

“You too Panda.”

Sirius glances at him warily before glaring at Walburga. Evan follows their leads as Pandora shuffles closer, grabbing onto their arms. Their mother shakes in fury as all the dust gather around her like a sand storm with shards and broken furniture.

“The Power of Three we now decree, The Power of Three will set you free, The Power of Three will destroy thee!”

The outcry shakes Evan to his core, still rocking him into an unpleasant lull, even after the ghost of Walburga imploded in front of them. She stared at them with a spiteful authority and wrath that still stink in the air, even when the rain is slowly drowning the attic through the broken window.

Sirius is the first one to move, clumsily getting on his feet as he stumbles to the large hole left in Grimmauld’ Place attic. It’s already night and the clouds smother the moon but there is no mistake of the body laying down at their steps. They all see Gideon sinking under the rain but they don’t say anything even when Sirius walks away at the first exclamations of their neighbours. Soon enough comes the police. 

“This man attacked you in your house?”

Evan glares at the aged policeman. His shiny badge spells out Barty Crouch Sr. and he has asked them many questions before Evan decides to take the lead. He has almost finished a master in law so he figures he can give them a way out of this mess. Gideon is dead, whether it’s from the fall or Walburga is another question, but there is no way they can tell them the truth.

“Listen, we already told you everything. We are as shocked as anyone else of what happened,” Evan says, trying to not give anything out by mistake. “He knew Sirius but we never opened the door. He came inside without asking before falling from our attic.”

Crouch Sr. eyes him, moustache twitching, before glancing up at the broken window. Pandora tightens her grip around his arm and Evan squeezes her shoulder. Sirius is still quiet, behind them, with a grim look and the white cat in his arms as Regulus is still treated by a doctor from the ambulance.

“And you four live together?”

“Yes.”

“Since how long?”

“A year. It’s– a family’s house.”

“Do you want a surveillance team? If you believe someone else might be after you,” he offers.

“No,” Sirius spits out.

The policeman purses his lips but nods and jots down on his notebook. “Well, then we will contact you later once we have a clearer idea of what happened.”

“Yes, thank you,” Evan clips.

He watches them before leaving. It’s a mess of their neighbours and many reporters, especially once the word got out that it’s Gideon Crumb from The Weird Sister. Grimmauld Place is in a rough state and they have to replace all the windows. Evan can spot that Regulus is already looking for someone to do that by how furiously he looks through his phone.

“I don’t like him,” Pandora whispers.

“Who?” Evan asks with the same tone.

She gestures at Crouch Sr. who has joined his men to discuss. He can share the feeling but can’t help but worry more about Walburga. The Book of Shadows hadn’t let them breathe even when they swallowed the shock, pages furiously turning and settling on the one: How to Vanquish the Evil Spirit of a Witch.

“Let’s go,” Regulus says once he is free. “The cab is here.”

“Now?” Evan asks, stumped. “We– do you know how suspicious this will look like if we leave now?”

“We don’t have a choice, do we? She will come back,” he hisses out. “That’s what the grimoire said, right?”

Pandora nods with a sorry look. “If we don’t burn her bones…”

“I will go fetch alcohol,” Sirius roughly says. “And the lighter.”

The cab doesn’t ask them any questions despite the scene of police cars and ambulances but Regulus slips him more money than necessary just in case. They are in rough shape despite the ambulance’s care but his body still aches. Regulus has already contacted his bakery that he will take his sick leave, at least for two days.

“Wait here, please,” Evan requests and the driver nods even if he glances curiously at the cemetery’s entry.

Sirius leads them and Pandora tries to keep his speed, talking quietly, but Evan doesn’t catch what she says or if he even answers. He has briefly said that Gideon was his ex and apparently followed him here in London to ‘get back together’. There is nothing he can think of to help or even say but hopefully Pandora finds the right words. They still have to digest how they are apparently related, now witches and not just random ones. Regulus’ phone rings and he sighs out before taking it.

“Yes?” He huffs out, eyes on Sirius and Pandora heading toward the Black Mausoleum. “What? Who are you again?”

Evan hears ‘James Potter’ and that he is apparently a handyman, who has been contacted by one of the people Regulus tried to call, and ready to come by to figure out what they need. Pandora and Sirius are waiting for them at the door of the mausoleum and Regulus quickly agrees for this Potter to come by tomorrow to fix a list of what needs to be repaired and the cost.

The mausoleum is huge but they easily find the burial of Walburga Black. She is laying in a companion crypt with Orion Black and Evan wonders if he even expected her to kill him; he wouldn’t be surprised that she told the truth after all of that. His and Pandora’s father never spoke about their mother, not even saying if she died or left them at birth, but they have no memories or even a name to look for. They are two years younger than Regulus which would also fit with her own time of death, since Regulus supposes that Orion might have killed her for cheating and carrying other people’s child– they are big on incest in our lineage.

“How do you open that?”

“I can do it,” Sirius says, putting the two bottles of alcohol in Pandora’s arms.

“Wait, you can’t just send it against the wall,” Regulus cuts him. “Just open it a little or something.”

He glares at him but it quickly softens and Evan thinks he might cry before it glares at the crypt. His hand jerks shortly and the seal snaps, sliding the crypt open without falling with its own weight. Evan gags at the smell and steps back but Pandora immediately peeks inside.

“It’s empty.”

[oliverreedmasterass]

Words: 7.6k

Warnings: smoking, sexual innuendos, some head trauma, cops, brief mention of v*mit, Led Zeppelin comparisons, Sam’s bare feet

Synopsis: Because I’m trying to not get my hopes up that we’ll get a second part to arguably the best video on the internet, this is how I’d imagine it would play out

Notes: An EXCEPTIONALLY LARGE thank you to @starcatcherkiszka, @jmkho, @writingcold​, @collecting-moons-downstairs​, and the anons for the submissions! Hopefully you (kinda) got your questions answered...

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

The scene opens in an interrogation room that is empty, with the exception of a hooded figure in the corner. Chatter can just barely be heard beyond the large, metal door. The camera is steady. After a few beats, SAM enters the room, his head hung low and his arms in shackles. He shuffles over to the interrogation table and plops into the uncomfortable chair with a sigh, carefully removing his oversized sunglasses and tossing them to the side. He kicks his bare feet up onto the table, revealing a glimpse at his short shorts and dress shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice the hooded figure. Sam is wearing a fake mustache over his real facial hair. 

SAM: Whoo boy, whatta day. 

The door opens once more and DANNY enters, his hands also cuffed. He looks like he just came off the stage from one of their shows, wearing one of his sparkly tops, black pants, white sneakers, and stage makeup. 

DANNY: Hey, Sam. 

SAM: They got you too?

DANNY: We were brought here together. 

SAM: Come here, old pal, let me hug you. 

Danny scrunches his nose like that’s the last thing he wants Sam to do, but he cautiously approaches Sam’s side and lets Sam awkwardly lift his handcuffed hands over Danny’s head and past his shoulders to engulf him in a tight embrace. While this is happening, JOSH kicks the door back open with a loud shout and thunders into the room. Sam and Danny turn back and watch Josh step up to the interrogation table, putting his hands on his hips. Josh is wearing a spacesuit that was very obviously purchased from Party City. He removes his space helmet and poofs back up his curls. 

JOSH: Sorry folks, I was caught in the holding cell because my suit latched onto the prison bed. I got into a really invigorating conversation with a self-proclaimed pyromaniac about the burning of Notre Dame and managed to sneak a swig or two of gin from the police chief when he wasn’t looking. My head is spinning a little because I think the ABV was above 80% but that just means I can’t tell left from right, which is no matter since I normally can’t tell the difference anyways. 

SAM: Where are your handcuffs? 

Josh looks down at his hands, which are entirely freed. 

JOSH: I Houdini’d my way out of them. 

Josh scans around the room. 

JOSH: Is Jake here yet? 

SAM: Nope. 

DANNY: I haven’t seen him. 

JOSH: Huh. 

Josh turns in a circle looking for his twin, to no avail. The door opens again and the three men turn to see a detective enter the room. DETECTIVE ACE is a hard looking man who has obviously seen some shit over the years. He’s carrying a steaming cup of coffee and an especially delectable donut that Josh can’t help but lick his lips at. Detective Ace motions for them all to sit back at the table. Sam and Danny struggle to untangle themselves from their complicated hug. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Morning, gentlemen. Let me lay down some ground rules here: I’ve got a lot of questions that I’m gonna need you to answer. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, which I’m sure you understand, but I want you to know that we’ll all be better off if you answer openly and honestly so we can crack down on this. Capiche? 

Josh, Sam, and Danny all silently shrug. That seems to be enough for Detective Ace. He looks across the table at the three and then squints. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Isn’t there supposed to be another one of you? 

JOSH: He’ll be here, he’s usually late. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Where could he possibly be? We’ve been keeping you all in a holding cell for the past twelve hours. 

SAM: Jake’s never been on time in his life. We should get started. He’ll come when he comes. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I feel like I should be more concerned about that, but okay. Let’s get this thing going. 

JOSH: Yes, why don’t we have a ball, huh? Let’s have a ball. 

Sam reaches up and strokes his fake mustache, which Danny notices for the first time. Danny lets out a short choke and quickly holds his hands up to his mouth to suppress his laugh. Sam beams at Danny’s reaction. 

DETECTIVE ACE: First things first, do you prefer tea or coffee?

DANNY: How kind of you to offer. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Just answer the question, son. 

DANNY: Coffee. 

SAM: (leaning to whisper to Danny) Less talkie, more coffee. 

DANNY: (under breath) Don’t remind me. 

JOSH: I actually prefer to mix the two together to see how much caffeine I can fill into my fleshly form in one go. 

SAM: Caffeine gives me the shits. I prefer kombucha. 

JOSH: Dude, kombucha is tea. 

SAM: No way. 

DANNY: What did you think you were drinking? 

SAM: (whispering) Spicy water? 

Danny holds his head in his hands and shakes his head. Sam looks between Danny and Josh, his eyes wide. 

SAM: How do you both know what kombucha is? 

DANNY: Have you really never read the bottle? 

DETECTIVE ACE: (clears throat) Next question. This one is for Daniel: the chaos of the Kiszka brothers must get to you. Have you ever reached your limit? If so, what was the event that caused you to break? And finally, what was your retribution?

DANNY: Hmmm. 

JOSH: Don’t say anything too incriminating, Daniel. 

DANNY: I’ve definitely come close. Especially when we were younger, you know, in the garage band days, they would butt heads a lot. There were times when I was tempted to storm back to my house after hearing Jake and Josh argue for what felt like hours on end. But I don’t know, I’ve spent a lot of my life with them, I guess I’m kind of used to it. Even when they’re being absolute menaces out in public, it’s never made me break. 

SAM: What about Amsterdam? 

DANNY: Oh, wait, yeah, I did reach my breaking point in Amsterdam. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What happened in Amsterdam? 

Danny winces and looks at Sam and Josh to see if he should keep talking. Sam nods. Josh is too busy messing around with the straps on his spacesuit to notice Danny’s glance. 

DANNY: It was a few years ago. We were going to play at a festival, but before the gig we went to one of those, uh, coffee shops and got our fill, I guess you could say. Jake and Josh got pretty cocky after that and started to hound me about how I needed to put more force into my hi-hat or some shit like that, which I really didn’t want to hear. That was tearing me down, but then I turned around and saw that Sam was jumping into the canal, entirely clothed. After I ran down to the side of the canal to try and help Sam, Jake pushed me in as well. When I got out, I immediately told them I quit the band and stormed back to our hotel. 

SAM: He was on stage with us three hours later. 

DANNY: Yeah, so they really didn’t face too much retribution there. 

JOSH: We deserved it, though. Poor, poor Daniel. 

DETECTIVE ACE takes a sip from his coffee and then looks down at his notepad. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Okay, I need a statement on your friend, Oliver Reed. Is he really dead? 

The hooded figure, who has been standing in the corner entirely motionless, quickly stirs and then leaps forward with a loud “YAR!” making everyone in the room jump. The hooded figure tears off the cloak in an impressive swoop, revealing OLIVER REED with his beard longer than ever. 

OLIVER REED: OLIVER FFFFFUCKING REED LIVES IN THE SPIRITUAL REALM NOW, BUT HIS SOUL IS STILL ALIVE AND WELL. THE DEVIL HAS GRANTED ME AN HOUR ABOVE GROUND TO VISIT OLD FRIENDS, ENEMIES, AND LOVERS. 

SAM: Oh my god, Oliver Reed is alive! 

OLIVER REED: (growling) What did eye jus say, boy? Yew got no fffffucking ears on you? I’m fuckin dead, my bleeding ghost is here to tie up some loose ends. 

JOSH: How much time do you have left before the devil takes you back, Oliver? 

Oliver Reed grunts and reaches into his back pocket to study his phone. 

OLIVER REED: Six minutes, it looks like. 

DANNY: What were you doing in those other fifty-four minutes? 

Oliver Reed grabs a cigar and matches out of his vest pocket and lights it, taking a big puff. Then, he starts to laugh at first softly, and then louder and louder. 

DANNY: Nevermind, I don’t want to know. 

OLIVER REED: Yew know, I talk a lot with Ernest Hemmingway down under, he’s a class act, he is. He can nearly outdrink me. Nearly, though. Ay’ve still got ‘im there. One time we ‘ad a drink off with this shit the devil brews, it’s called a Soul Sucker, aye think. It’s straight shit and maybe a little motor oil. Well, I rolled me sleeves up, rubbed me hands together, and grabbed ‘at big ol’ bottle and chugged it like it was a glass o’ water. And Ernest told me, he said, ‘Oliver, boy, you need to slow down’ to which I said, ‘actually, when yew go too fast, don’t slow down, yer gonna crash.’ Ernest said that was a bloody brilliant quote, and he was going to add it to his new novel, about sexual pleasure and the majesty of the seed. 

SAM: Okay, thank you, Oliver. 

OLIVER REED: I’m not done yet. 

DANNY: (to Detective Ace) Please ask us another question before he starts talking again. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Oh, um (clears throat) Okay. Would you rather be locked in a room with one cockroach the size of a medium dog or 100 regular cockroaches? 

Oliver Reed pulls off his sunglasses and bends over to be at eye level with Detective Ace, who is still sitting at the interrogation table. Oliver’s eyes are piercing, and they are terrifying. Detective Ace recoils back in his seat a bit. 

OLIVER REED: Wot the bloody ‘ell kind of question is ‘at? Cockroaches? Cockroaches?! Well, aye know a thing or two about cocks and I know a thing or two about roaches - 

SAM: (cutting Oliver Reed off) Oh GOD. 

OLIVER REED: So aye guess ay’d ‘ave to say the giant cock would do fer me. I don’t think aye could wrap me head ‘round a hundred o’ those peckers. 

Sam slams his head into the interrogation table with a groan. Danny is quick to make sure that Sam didn’t give himself a concussion. 

DANNY: (to Sam) How many fingers am I holding up? 

OLIVER REED: HE’S HOLDIN’ THREE, AYE ‘AVEN’T HAD ‘AT MUCH TO DRINK YET, I CAN STILL SEE STRAIGHT. 

Danny: I wasn’t talking to you, Oliver. 

SAM: Three. 

Danny throws his hands in the air, giving up. Josh is silent, thinking especially hard about the cockroach question. 

JOSH: I think I would take one hundred small ones. 

OLIVER REED: Go and gettem, boy! That’s what Ernest says. If yew’ve got the stamina, by all means. 

JOSH: I think I could domesticate them and get them to follow me around. Think of how cool it would be to have a hundred cockroaches near you at all times. 

SAM: (peering up at Josh as his head still rests on the table) Literally no one would find that cool. Except you, apparently. 

JOSH: I’d give them all names and take care of them. 

DANNY: Well, that makes me feel bad. I was gonna say I’d take a big one because it would be easier to kill in one go. Sure, it would take some muscle power and probably be traumatizing, but I’d rather know where the cockroach was at all times than be guessing where all the tiny ones are. 

SAM: I ate a cockroach once when I was a kid. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Moving on, Danny, I need to clear something up with you: which Hogwarts house are you in? 

SAM: Oh shit, yeah, we never found that out in our last video because you didn’t want me sitting on your head in my underwear. 

DANNY: Can you blame me?

OLIVER REED: HUFFLEPUFF! 

JOSH: (to Oliver Reed) No, buddy, we’re talking about Daniel here. 

OLIVER REED: Did I fffffucking stutter? 

DANNY: I would say I’m a Ravenclaw. 

SAM: Not Gryffindor? 

DANNY: Nope, I never felt like I would fit in there. I was always pretty studious in school while you guys were the ones causing trouble. 

JOSH: You call it trouble, I call it freedom. 

DANNY: You call lighting a trashcan in the teacher’s parking lot freedom? 

JOSH: Absolutely. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Are you afraid of the dark?

DANNY: Yes. 

SAM: No. 

JOSH: (squinting) Why? 

OLIVER REED: When yer dead, the darkness becomes yew. It’s somethin’ yew can’t fear unless yew want to fear yerself, which I wouldn’t recommend, because then yew start to lose yer sense of self and decay into a shell of who yew once were. 

JOSH: Okay, yes, I am afraid of the dark. 

OLIVER REED: Don’t be, it can’t hurt yew. 

Oliver Reed’s face suddenly pales and he throws his hands up to cover his head, letting out a terrified squawk. 

JOSH: (abruptly standing to his feet) What? What’s wrong? 

OLIVER REED: My time is up. The devil is here for me. He brings the darkness.

Oliver Reed is staring directly at Sam. 

SAM: Dude, I’m not the devil. 

OLIVER REED: Tell yer mother I said ‘elloooooooooooooooooooo 

Oliver Reed crumples into a ball on the floor Wicked Witch of the West-style, out of sight of the camera, presumably back down to hell. Some smoke rises from the floor. 

JOSH: You know, for all of his flaws, he is a fun guy to be around. 

DANNY: He stresses me out. 

A knock sounds on the door. Detective Ace springs to his feet and opens the door, revealing JAKE, who is wearing his infamous straw hat, paired with a black t-shirt that reads “babygirl” in an italic font. 

JAKE: Sorry I’m late. 

Jake steps into the room and grabs a seat beside Josh, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 

JOSH: You just missed Oliver Reed. 

JAKE: Really? Darn, that’s too bad. We can never seem to cross paths. Maybe one of these days. 

SAM: You probably just have to say “shit” three times and put a bottle of whiskey out to get him back. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Speaking of shit, is there any chance you guys will do a ‘Behind the Shit’ series for YouTube?

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) Wait, why are we in the slammer? 

JOSH: (whispering back) Identity theft.

SAM: We do have the title trademarked, but we’re unfortunately legally barred from sharing any insider details about our upcoming promotional material for our new album. 

JAKE: What a mature answer to that question, Sammy Boy. The media training is finally sticking. 

Sam blows Jake a raspberry. 

DANNY: We’re lucky to have a great social media team that catches some of our best and, well, not-so-best moments to share with our fans. I think it’s important to let our audience see that we have depth to us beyond our stage personas. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Fair enough. What do your fans have to do to hear “The Barbarians” live?

JOSH: So, what they’re gonna do is they’re gonna grab their checkbook, write me a number with a lot of zeros in it, and sign their name at the bottom.

JAKE: We played Barbarians not too long ago, didn’t we? 

SAM: I think there’s a high demand that we make it a regular. 

DANNY: It’s that guitar part, Jake. They can’t get enough of it. 

JAKE: Well, that’s more than enough to stroke my god complex. I say we play it every show, boys. 

Sam notices Jake’s shirt for the first time. 

SAM: Babygirl??

JAKE: Huh? (looks down at shirt) Oh, yeah. Like it? 

SAM: I thought I was the baby? 

JAKE: You’re so baby. It’s different. 

SAM: Wha- how? 

DANNY: He’s right. 

With a grunt, Danny removes his own shirt, revealing that he’s wearing a babygirl shirt as well. Sam gapes at his friend. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Is Daniel a Sephora VIB Rouge member yet? 

JOSH: What’s that? 

SAM: I think it stands for “Very Important Bitch.” In which case, yes, he is a VIB member. 

DANNY: (softly) I do have a Sephora member card. 

JAKE: Wait, really? 

DANNY: It made a lot of sense financially. Plus they send me cool stuff every month, so it’s something to look forward to. 

JAKE: (throwing himself back in his chair) Huh. 

DANNY: I got an eyeliner pencil I think you’d like. You can have it. 

JAKE: (softly, to Danny) Yes please. 

SAM: Can I get something? 

DANNY: Sure. 

Danny fumbles around in his pockets like he’s looking for something. Sam watches him with interest. Danny lifts his hand back up from his pocket, shooting Sam the bird. Sam immediately pouts. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Can we expect any new musical instruments on the album?

JOSH: You can anticipate a lot of evolved sonic elements. With Starcatcher, we wanted to challenge ourselves and expand our sound into something that somehow feels even larger than life than The Battle at Gardens Gate. Each song should transport you to a different time, place, and frame of mind. 

JAKE: Yeah, there is a lot more experimentation happening for this album, extending even beyond the instruments we use. A lot of it lies in the production as well, which we put a lot of thought into. We’re at the point in our musical journey where it’s almost like we’re at a crossroads: do we continue developing a sound that we’ve already created, or do we move in a new direction? It’s an exciting question to face, and I guess you’ll learn the answer soon. 

SAM: You guys are talking all big about new sounds and shit, but we never reached the Beach Boys-level of experimentation, using celery as a musical instrument. 

JOSH: Sam’s still upset that we didn’t let him play the zucchini on one of our tracks.

SAM: There was potential there, and you know it. 

DANNY: Not when you’re using that zucchini as a bow on your bass. It sounded like ass. 

SAM: You shut it down before I could figure it out. I was onto something, I swear! 

Jake, Josh, and Danny all turn to Detective Ace and very evidently mouth to him at the same time, “he wasn’t.” 

DETECTIVE ACE: (scans notes again) This one looks like something my colleague wrote out. Ummmm, Sammy, when will you shave off your facial hair? Frowny face. 

Sam furrows his brow and stands to his feet, slamming his hands down on the interrogation table with a loud BANG! He glares at Detective Ace and proceeds to rip off his fake mustache, revealing his real mustache underneath. He discards the fake mustache and it lands on the side of Josh’s face so it’s almost like he’s got a single sideburn. Josh’s face contorts into a look of utmost disgust. 

SAM: Does that answer your question? 

DETECTIVE ACE: It definitely doesn’t. 

Sam retrieves another fake mustache from his back pocket and carefully places it on his face. It’s a lot more crooked than his previous fake mustache, and notably bright red. Seemingly content, Sam takes his seat once more. Detective Ace awkwardly clears his throat and shuffles his papers. 

DETECTIVE ACE: This one is for Josh. Would you ever want to pursue acting or directing again outside of your music videos? 

JOSH: Mayhaps. 

JAKE: You did not just say “mayhaps.”

JOSH: Mayhaps I did. 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief. 

JOSH: I’m genuinely distraught that I didn’t get a casting call for the new Barbie movie. But I am relieved that Christopher Nolan didn’t reach out about Oppenheimer. I don’t think I could work with Josh Peck. 

SAM: Right, you couldn’t handle there being another, more successful, Josh on set. 

DANNY: Is Josh Peck really that successful? 

SAM: (gesturing back at Josh) More than this idiot. 

JOSH: (ignoring Sam) I’ve tried writing some stuff over the years and, I don’t know, there are some projects I’d like to pursue, but right now music is in the forefront of my mind. We’ve got some momentum that I don’t want to tamper with. 

JAKE: Thank god for that. 

JOSH: I do want to make a loose adaptation of The Wizard of Oz though, where they join a cult in the woods with the apple tree men. Maybe they’d sacrifice Toto or something, I don’t know. I think it could be a good opportunity to provide commentary on the People’s Temple Church. Is that controversial to say? I don’t know. 

SAM: It’s stupid to say, that’s what it is. 

JOSH: Some people just aren’t ready for big ideas. 

DANNY: (under his breath) The last thing we need is another Wizard of Oz adaptation. No one can beat what the Muppets did. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I think I’ve heard enough about the cults. So, why do you all hate Tumblr?

JOSH: What’s a Tumblr? 

JAKE: I think it’s that thing that you put drinks in. 

JOSH: Oh. 

SAM: It’s a social media site. And no, we don’t hate it. 

DANNY: I thought it wasn’t around anymore. 

SAM: (a little too quickly) No, it’s around. 

Danny whirls around to study Sam. Their eyes dance about as if they’re having a telepathic conversation. Danny leans closer into Sam’s side. 

DANNY: (just barely audible) Why are you on Tumblr? 

SAM: I like reading fanfiction on the bus. It’s really entertaining. 

DANNY: About us? 

SAM: We’ll talk about it later. 

JOSH: (repeating himself) What’s a Tumblr? 

JAKE: I don’t hate anything. 

DANNY: You hate geese. 

JAKE: Oh shit, yeah. (through grit teeth) I fuckin hate geese. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Are you going to revive your band’s Tumblr account? 

SAM: (perking up) We have a band account? 

DANNY: Based on that reaction, I think it’s safe to say there will be some activity there soon. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (nodding) What is your go-to cereal? 

JOSH: (giving his signature chuckle) I’m sorry, uh (looks around at his band members) Why is this relevant? 

JAKE: (thoughtfully) You can tell a lot about a person by the cereal they eat. 

JOSH: So, what’s your go-to then, Jakey? 

JAKE: Honey Nut Cheerios. 

JOSH: So basically you’re boring. You’re boring, Jake. 

DANNY: And concerned about his heart health. What about you, Josh? 

JOSH: Easy. Fruit Loops. Raw. 

JAKE: So you like holes. 

JOSH: I could say the same about you, Honey Nut Cheerios are the same shape! 

DANNY: Wait, raw??

JOSH: I don’t need milk. Actually, I can’t have milk with my cereal because it builds up phlegm around my vocal cords. So I eat my cereal raw. 

SAM: I like Lucky Charms, but only the marshmallows. Wait, no, I don’t like cereal. I’m more of an oatmeal guy. 

JOSH: You’re a weird fucker. 

JAKE: So you like to eat vomit?

SAM: It’s delightful with a bit of fruit, you don’t know what you’re talking about! 

JOSH: What’s your choice cereal, Daniel? 

DANNY: I gotta go with Frosted Mini Wheats. They’re a classic. 

JAKE: That’s actually, yeah, okay, that’s a good answer. 

JOSH: I can’t find any faults there. 

SAM: I’m gonna force you to eat oatmeal when we get home. 

JAKE: I’d like to see you try. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What do you do when you can’t sleep at night?

SAM: Eat oatmeal. 

JAKE: I usually can’t sleep at night because I’m so disturbed by the image of Sam eating oatmeal. 

JOSH: I go out and look at the stars and ponder life, death, and the history of time. Usually a nice cup of tea helps me too. And some other, uh, let’s call them supplements. 

DANNY: I listen to my comfort albums. 

SAM: What? Like Billy Squier? 

DANNY: No. Like Rumors and Abbey Road. I’ve had some pretty nasty insomnia over the years, but there’s nothing quite like Fleetwood Mac or the Beatles to ease the mind. 

JAKE: When I can’t sleep, I get so frustrated that I start punching shit. 

JOSH: I once caught him punching the refrigerator at 4am. 

JAKE: It’s cathartic, but it also makes me tired enough that I can fall asleep. I’ve even come up with some guitar riffs over the years while doing it. 

JOSH: Jake wrote the “Built By Nations” solo while he was punching a lawn mower in the middle of the night. 

DANNY: I wish they were joking. 

SAM: One time Jake started punching me when he couldn’t sleep. 

JAKE: I’ve told you, it wasn’t a direct attack, it was just a convenience thing. You were the closest to me and I was half-awake. 

JOSH: This isn’t making us look very good, is it? 

DETECTIVE ACE: You’re a bunch of characters, I can tell you that. Another question, specifically for Sam: did you meet your crush, Hozier, at Shaky Knees? And who has better hair?

SAM: I feel a little bit attacked by that question, Ace. First of all, he’s not my crush. 

DANNY: He’s my crush. 

SAM: That’s right, Danny is head over heels for the guy. He called dibs. Secondly, it’s not fair to compare our hair. 

JAKE: That’s Sammy’s way of admitting that Andrew’s hair is better. 

DANNY: We did get to meet him backstage, even though it was really brief. He’s a great guy, it would be incredible to collaborate with him on something down the road. 

JOSH: His voice is like an angel. And his lyrics? Perfect. He can do no wrong. 

DANNY: Sam’s knees nearly buckled when he first saw him. I had to hold him upright. 

SAM: I thought we agreed that was going to stay between us.

DANNY: Sorry, it felt relevant to mention. 

JAKE: I met Jack Black. It was probably one of the best days of my life. 

JOSH: Did he play you the greatest song in the world? 

JAKE: No, he couldn’t remember the greatest song in the world, he could only play a tribute. 

Jake and Josh share a goofy smile. 

DANNY: Andrew, if you’re watching this, please do a song with me. 

Sam nods his head rapidly. Across the table, Detective Ace’s phone starts to ring. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Sorry, excuse me for one second, I need to take this. 

Detective Ace gets up from his seat and hustles out of the room while answering his phone with a quick, “yello?” The members of Greta Van Fleet sit still in silence, listening to Detective Ace’s footsteps grow softer. Finally, Josh springs to his feet. 

JOSH: Think he’s gone? 

Jake stands as well and peers out the window in the door. 

JAKE: I don’t see him. 

JOSH: Okay, good. We’re breaking out of here. 

SAM: What? Why? He seems nice. 

DANNY: I don’t think that’s a good idea. 

JOSH: I’m like a bird, I need to be free. 

JAKE: I just want to see if we can pull it off. 

DANNY: How do we know there’s not someone behind that two way mirror? 

Danny turns to point at the massive two way mirror that lines the wall in front of them. Jake and Josh study the mirror and then shrug. 

JAKE: If someone’s there, let’s see if they can stop us. 

DANNY: What? No. 

Josh joins Sam’s side and grabs his spacesuit helmet. 

JOSH: Hold still, Samuel. 

SAM: Huh? 

Josh slams his helmet down on Sam’s handcuffs, hitting more of Sam’s hands than the actual handcuffs. Sam starts to holler out in pain, but Josh clamps a hand over his mouth. 

JOSH: Ssshhh, don’t blow our cover, okay? 

SAM: MMMmmmrmph??? 

Josh reaches the helmet back up to give it another go, but Danny grabs his hand to stop him from inflicting anymore pain or damage on Sam. Sam breathes out a sigh of relief. 

JOSH: So maybe we can get the handcuffs off you guys after we escape. 

Behind Josh, Jake grabs a chair from the interrogation table and chucks it at the two way mirror with a shout. The chair comically bounces off the mirror and lands on the floor, shattering into what looks like a million pieces. The mirror is unscathed. 

JAKE: (out of breath) Shit, I really thought that was gonna work. 

Now it’s Josh’s turn: he puts the helmet back on his head, taps it a couple of times for good luck, and hurls himself at the mirror head first. At this exact moment, Detective Ace comes back into the room. 

JAKE: Quick! Everyone act normal! 

Josh is flattened out on the floor. Sam is tending to his hands. Danny is shaking his head in disbelief. Jake tries to block the view of the chair that he absolutely decimated with a wide stance, awkwardly putting his hands on his hips with a large, fake smile. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What the hell is going on here?

Danny crouches down next to Josh and carefully removes his helmet. 

JOSH: (softly) Did we make it out? 

DANNY: Definitely not. 

JOSH: Damn. Better luck next time. 

Danny helps Josh back up to his feet and Josh holds onto him briefly for support before regaining his balance and composure. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Do you want to join me back at the table? 

DANNY: Yep. 

Josh and Danny return to the table and grab their seats again. Detective Ace also sits, leaving Jake standing around, lost, since he destroyed his chair. Jake looks unsure what to do, and then finally opts to try and hold a squat at the table, mimicking sitting in a chair. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (nodding towards Josh) Are you okay? 

Josh shrugs.

SAM: You wouldn’t believe how much head trauma he’s had over the years. 

DETECTIVE ACE: No, I think I would. Are you all ready to continue on with the questioning? I’m sorry for stepping out, the police chief needed to check in about something. 

SAM: Everything okay? 

DETECTIVE ACE: Nothing I can disclose. 

SAM: Fair enough. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Alright. I want to talk about your “Meeting the Master” music video: is there any lore going on there?

DANNY: Yes. 

SAM: Yes. 

JAKE: Yes. 

JOSH: Esyay. 

Everyone abruptly turns to face Josh, who looks back at them in confusion. 

JOSH: Isyay erethay omethingsay ongwray? 

SAM: Oh god, he’s speaking pig latin. 

JAKE: Not again. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Not again? 

Jake stands from his squat with a grunt and a few pops and then shuffles to Josh’s side and turns him around in his chair so they’re face to face. 

JAKE: You gotta snap out of it, Josh. Snap out of it! 

Jake snaps his fingers in front of Josh’s face a few times. Josh has a delayed reaction. 

JAKE: Shit. 

JOSH: Iyay eelfay inefay. 

SAM: I think we should keep him this way. It’s kinda funny. 

DANNY: No one’s gonna know what he’s saying. 

JAKE: Does anyone know what he’s usually saying? 

Danny purses his lips. Jake has a point. 

JOSH: Owhay antsway otay alktay aboutyay ouryay usicmay ideovay? 

DANNY: I got it. There’s definitely a story being told in our “Meeting the Master” music video. I don’t think we should hand you the answer on a silver platter since there’s a lot of rewards that come with analyzing it and forming your own perspective on the message, but we definitely drew inspiration from specific art pieces, old literature, and key pieces of history. 

JAKE: If you look closely, we do a few callbacks to earlier music videos and songs as well. There’s a lot of easter eggs in there. 

SAM: The main lore is those red gloves were really hard to get on and take off. I was about ready to accept that they were going to become a part of me. 

DANNY: That’s not really what lore means, Sam. 

Sam looks like he could care less and focuses his attention on stroking his fake mustache. Detective Ace can’t stop staring at him. 

JOSH: Ethay usicmay ideovay isyay illedfay ithway agicmay, evilyay, andyay ethay owerpay atthay omescay ithway omisingpray impossibleyay ingsthay. Iyay eallyray eelfay ikelay it'syay oneyay ofyay ouryay ostmay ignificantsay andyay elevantray usicmay ideosvay etyay, eoplepay ouldshay aketay isthay asyay ayay arningway andyay asyay anyay opportunityyay otay eflectray onyay eirthay iveslay andyay ethay ecisionsday eythay akemay eachyay ayday. Inyay actfay, iyay ouldway ecommendray atthay - 

JAKE: I can’t do this. 

Jake grabs Josh’s helmet, secures it back on Josh’s head, grabs him around the waist, and chucks him into the mirror once more, head first. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Oh. 

Danny springs to his feet in shock. 

DANNY: Jake! 

JAKE: (down to Josh, who is on the floor again) Better? 

Josh groans and rolls around so he’s on his back and pulls off his helmet. 

JOSH: Je ne peux pas croire que tu viens de me jeter comme ça. (I can’t believe you just threw me like that) 

Jake hoists Josh up once more and slams his helmeted head against the mirror. 

JAKE: (out of breath) Now? 

JOSH: I think so. 

JAKE: Thank fuckin god. 

Josh and Jake return to the table. Jake swoops in to steal Josh’s seat before he can sit, leaving Josh standing behind Jake, Danny, and Sam while scratching at the back of his head. 

DANNY: (to Josh) Are you okay? 

JOSH: I’ve had worse. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I’ll ease you back in with a simpler question. How many pairs of shoes do you have? 

SAM: None. 

Sam leans back in his chair, kicks his feet up, and slams them down on the table, revealing his bare dogs. Detective Ace’s cup of lukewarm coffee is spilled in the process, forming a puddle around Danny’s discarded top that he shed earlier. 

DANNY: Aw man. 

Beside Danny, Jake is counting on his fingers while staring up at the ceiling in deep concentration. 

JAKE: I would approximate about six. But I really only wear three pairs on the regular. 

JOSH: (teasing with a callback) He keeps his pumps in the back of the closet for special occasions. 

Jake scowls in Josh’s direction. 

DANNY: I probably own too many shoes. I should donate some. 

JOSH: Yeah, donate them to Sam, please. 

SAM: I lied, I do own a pair of shoes. Actually, maybe two. Or three. 

JOSH: Will there be any consequences if I give an incorrect answer? I genuinely don’t know. 

DETECTIVE ACE: You can give an estimate. 

JOSH: Between 0-50. 

JAKE: He is a diva, you know. And divas need their shoes. 

JOSH: I mostly have sneakers, nothing fancy. I need something that’s easy to slip out of, you know, not too confining. 

SAM: Gotta let the dogs breathe! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Moving on from the feet, would you ever consider doing meet and greets again?

DANNY: Ummmmmm…

SAM: I don’t really like the idea of people paying to meet us. I mean, we really aren’t that great. 

JAKE: That’s your opinion. 

SAM: I’d rather meet fans naturally, while we’re out and about. It’s a lot more intimate that way, a lot less pressure. If you see me, buy me a drink and I’ll be your best friend. 

DANNY: I do agree with that. I mean, I value my privacy, but I don’t want to have some super commercialized meet and greet where you take a picture with me, give me a hug, and then walk away a hundred bucks poorer. 

SAM: At the end of the day, we’re just human. Treat us that way. 

JOSH: I have nothing to add to that. 

Josh reaches into a pocket in his spacesuit and retrieves a bag of red rhinestones and a bottle of glue. Detective Ace eyes him cautiously, but Josh doesn’t notice. He’s too busy tearing into the packaging and opening his glue. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Josh places dots of glue on his cheeks and quickly covers them with the red rhinestones, looking as if he has a case of extra sparkly chicken pox. He doesn’t stop there though: Josh continues to mindlessly add the rhinestones to his face until it’s becoming challenging to see his bare skin. 

JAKE: (sincerely) I think it does.

SAM: I fell in love with my bass the first time I saw it, does that count? 

JOSH: (while still adding rhinestones to his face) Love is a delightful, innocent, beautiful thing. You really never know where it’s going to take you, but it’s around us all the time. Sure, it can be challenging to spot out at times, but I think it does have the power to strike you immediately, without necessarily knowing someone. It’s a part of human nature to love, and be loved. 

Danny is too busy watching Josh turn himself into the personification of Dorothy’s slippers to answer the question. Detective Ace takes Danny’s silence as a cue to move on to his next question. Before he can, though, Josh clears his throat and nods towards the door. Every square inch of his face is now covered in rhinestones. 

JOSH: Can I use the gents? 

DETECTIVE ACE: By all means. 

Josh hustles out of the room. 

JAKE: He’s all about his theatrics, never a dull moment with that one. 

Danny ducks underneath the table and seems to be fussing around with something. Sam leans over to ask if he needs help, and then Danny motions for him to join him under the table, which Sam does with a laugh. This leaves only Jake sitting at the table, staring at Detective Ace with a blank look. Detective Ace looks back at him. Jake doesn’t appear to be blinking. After a frankly unnerving amount of time staring back and forth at each other, Sam pops his head back out from under the table, no longer wearing his red mustache. Danny comes out as well and is wearing a long, straight, brunette wig, a fake beard, and a bucket hat, his stage makeup entirely wiped off. His babygirl shirt has been swapped for a button up top that looks straight out of the seventies. He takes a seat back in his chair and pulls out a pair of drumsticks, which he twirls around. Shortly afterwards, Josh re-enters the interrogation room with his face scrubbed clean of the rhinestones. He’s wearing a long, blonde, curly wig and his Elle Fernanda glasses. 

ELLE FERNANDA: The line in that bathroom was a-trocious! 

SAM: Elle Fernanda? To what do I owe the pleasure?

ELLE FERNANDA: I was just in town, looking around for a new chunky candamera, and I wandered in here. I saw some nice donuts in the window from the street. 

DANNY: (in a jarring British accent) Would you like to join us? 

ELLE FERNANDA: Well, you seem like a very polite gentleman. I’ll happily take a seat and settle for a little bit to rest my feet. 

Elle Fernanda approaches Jake and clears her throat. Jake looks up at her and Elle Fernanda motions that he get out of her seat. Jake looks like he really doesn’t want to, but he stands and backs away from the table. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Thank you, darling. 

DETECTIVE ACE: We were answering some questions, if you don’t mind. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Oh, please, go ahead, I’ll try not to be a bother. 

Elle Fernanda adjusts the glasses on her face and reaches into her purse, retrieving a nail file which she starts using on her fingers. 

ELLE FERNANDA: I wish I had some sticked-ons with me. They’d make my hands look really nice today. 

DANNY: (still British) Red would look pretty. 

ELLE FERNANDA: This young man gets it, he really does! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Returning back to the questioning, if you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where? 

ELLE FERNANDA: Are you offering? If you pay, I’d get one now. 

DETECTIVE ACE: No, it’s a, uh, hypothetical question. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Shame. 

JAKE: Easy, “Cream” above my buttcrack. 

Elle Fernanda raises a hand up to her chest in shock. 

ELLE FERNANDA: My word! 

SAM: I’d probably get my dog’s paw print somewhere, I don’t know, maybe on the bottom of my foot or something. 

JAKE: That sounds fucking painful. 

SAM: It would be sentimental. 

ELLE FERNANDA: A little bit cliche too. 

DANNY: (still British) Maybe the Ludwig logo. Or the Borromean rings. 

Detective Ace squints at Danny. Danny is unbothered by this. 

ELLE FERNANDA: I would get something sweet, like a flow-ah, or, or, maybe a strawberry or something. 

SAM: Where would you put your tattoo, Elle? 

ELLE FERNANDA: A lady never tells. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Now, will the sword make more appearances? 

JAKE: I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask! 

Jake hops on top of the interrogation table with ease and, seemingly out of nowhere, unsheathes his infamous sword, holding it up towards the ceiling in a pose very similar to Luke Skywalker on the Star Wars: A New Hope poster. Elle takes one look at the sword, lets out a shrill shriek, and books it out of the room. Jake seems to be energized by this since he swings the sword around a couple of times, calling out with glee. 

SAM: Jake, get down from there! 

Jake is unbelievably lost in the moment. 

JAKE: Land ho! Treasure ahead, me hearties, we’ll be rich in no time! All we have to do is cross the crocodile-infested swamp and sneak into the cave of shadows and then we’ll be in piles of gold up to our elbows! Yarrrrr! 

DANNY: (still British) Will we run into Moby Dick on our way? 

JAKE: Argh, no whales with phallic names, me boy, only reptiles with a bloodlust like you wouldn’t believe! But we’ll cut and slash through them like they’re jelly! 

Jake continues flinging the sword around which causes Sam to finally step in, carefully joining Jake on top of the table and snatching the sword out of his hand. 

SAM: (scolding) I thought we agreed to keep this thing locked up.

JAKE: (snapping out of his pirate fantasy) Sorry I want to have fun from time to time. 

SAM: (under breath) No need to go shanking people at a police precinct. 

Josh returns back to the room, still donning the long, curly, blonde wig. From the doorway, he carefully steps out of his spacesuit, revealing a blue floral mini-robe that’s open to expose his chest. He’s also wearing an impressive pair of flare jeans. 

JOSH: (also British) Sorry, this older woman was making quite the fuss in the front, going off about someone with a sword? She was in hysterics. 

JAKE: Oops. 

Josh takes a seat beside Danny and gives him a quick fist bump. 

JOSH: John. 

DANNY: Robert. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (looking increasingly skeptical about the scene unfolding in front of him) Can you tell me the song that was most popular the year you were born? 

DANNY: Twelfth Street Rag. 

JOSH: Same. 

SAM: (now also British, albeit with a poor accent) Prisoner of Love. Great tune.

Everyone looks to Jake for his response, but he is no longer at the table. Detective Ace rises to his feet to scan around the room. After Detective Ace turns in half a circle, Jake pops his head out from under the table. He’s wearing a dark, curly mane of a wig on his head and his dragon suit. 

JAKE: (British, but a bit different than Oliver Reed) Swinging On A Star. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Okay…What’s a conspiracy you believe in?

SAM: The moon landing was a complete hoax. 

JAKE: (British) Well, detective, you see, this might come across as a bit outlandish, but I believe that there is a band of young men out in Michigan who are copying our every move in order to find success as rock musicians. 

Detective Ace springs to his feet with a new surge of energy. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Aha! 

Detective Ace fumbles around with a walkie talkie in his euphoria. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Sergeant? Yes, I got them. 

JOSH: (to Jake) Nice one. 

JAKE: It was bound to slip at some point. 

Four cops hustle into the room and secure handcuffs around Jake and Josh’s wrists. Sam and Danny each get an additional pair of handcuffs around their wrists just because. 

DETECTIVE ACE: You four are charged with identity theft, for posing as the original members of the band, Led Zeppelin. 

SAM: That’s absurd! We’d never! 

DANNY: Yeah, that’s bogus, man! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Take them into processing, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to fill out. 

JOSH: This is all just a big misunderstanding, we’re our own people! Are we not allowed to take inspiration from a revolutionary band? Maybe we just have similar interests and perspectives about things! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Save it for the judge, buddy. 

JOSH: Wait until my lawyer hears about this! 

JAKE: (whispering) We don’t have a lawyer. 

JOSH: Shit!! How have we made it this far?

JAKE: Luck. A lot of luck. 

The cops escort Sam, Danny, Jake, and Josh out of the room. Josh is the last to leave, but he sticks his head back into the room one last time. 

JOSH: AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT TOO IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU MEDDLING KIDS! 

The cop drags Josh back out into the hallway and the door slams shut, leaving Detective Ace alone in the room. He studies the discarded chairs and mess in front of him and shakes his head in disbelief. In silence he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, looking thoughtful. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Were my questions addressed? Yes, but at what cost? 

[wheresmycontent]

Modern Dating Series: Sesshomaru [Inuyasha]

Sesshomaru x Reader [Gender Neutral]

C|TW: none

As a young rich man running an empire he isn’t going to date just anybody. For starters if you’re one of his workers, regardless of which business you’re a part of, he isn’t going to start a romantic relationship. Business and pleasure aren’t meant to be mixed, it’ll only lead to complications and due to his stern methods of keeping his workers in line it’s best not to date your boss. Especially, if you’re part of Sesshomaru’s crime syndicate.

That doesn’t mean he’s avoiding your average person working nine to five either. He’d date a barista, fast food worker, sales associate, etc; you just can’t be on his payroll. Sesshomaru may seem picky and shallow but he’s honestly not. He’d prefer for his partner to be your average person since he wants to avoid being in the public eye anyway. The last thing he needs is a social media influencer, or actor dragging him out of the shadows, accidentally exposing information that’ll dig up his well-hidden secrets. Could you imagine a TikTok influencer being the reason government officials have finally caught up to Sesshomaru?

Because of his priorities, Sesshomaru is never looking out for a potential partner and is always focusing on his current circle and work life. You’d have to be the one making your feelings obvious in the sense that you’d ask him out for coffee after seeing him pass by often, or starting a simple conversation as you’re both standing in an elevator. He isn’t as rude as he used to be, he’d take you up on the offers if you pique his interest. The change is also nice since he forgets to treat himself to a change in scenery.

Once you’ve made your presence known to Sesshomaru he’s going to do a full background check on you and your family just to be sure you’re not another agent. There have been times when undercover cops would try to gain intel through false friendships and whatnot. He’d usually ghost them upon finding out because harming them would only raise suspicion. So hopefully you’re not related to any cops, detectives, or anyone involved in law enforcement. For your sake, you’d better be disowned or separated in some way because if not, Sesshomaru is already done with you.

Please don’t act like you didn’t know he could be busy or leave at any point depending on the situation. Before getting serious, as in the minute you met, he mentioned that his work takes up a significant amount of his time. Since he’s only recently begun working it’ll be a couple of years before he’s granted more downtime. The minute you start bringing up his schedule and complaining about not having quality time, Sesshomaru is done. One thing about him, he’s not planning dates he knows he’ll miss, and he doesn’t promise time he knows he won’t have. Anything he’s promised is definitely put first because he doesn’t want to seem unreliable.

Regardless of his work, Sesshomaru does make time for you and never leaves you hanging when you need him. Don’t act as if he’s purposely putting work first because I promise you, he’s counting down the days until he’s finally able to step back enough to enjoy his wealth and have more time for his friends and lover. If you’re not capable of waiting for that day that’s fine too, he’s not going to ask you to stay when you’re not happy. That’s why he wants to be with a partner that can handle being unable to see him often.

[helloitisiafellowgay]

another part of my Steve gets Vecna’d AU, where i provide very little context lmaoo sorry

i’ve been working on this for OVER A YEAR and still have a few scenes to finish 😭 my draft rn is almost 19k so I’ll hopefully get it out before like November at this rate :)

vague context: this is the night before The Big Fight TM and people like JUST found out that steves possessed and eddie is cleaning steve’s demobat wounds

other post

——————

“Do you—“ the drug dealer looks conflicted, debating whether to poke at a neglected bruise. “Why didn’t anyone notice?”

There’s a knot in his throat, a tightening of his larynx. “What do you mean?”

”That you were hallucinating? Having nightmares?” Before, Eddie wouldn’t meet his gaze. Now, he won’t let Steve look away, slowly regaining his certainty, his intensity. “Why was I the only one to even consider anything was wrong? You’re not that great of an actor— you aren’t, don’t look at me like that— and they’ve known you so much longer than I have.”

And isn’t that the question he’d been shoving out of his own mind since the beginning of this whole mess? That small seed of doubt, pushing forward and flourishing now that someone else had stopped to water it.

He knows, he knows— they don’t care about him as much as he cares about them. Sees it in the way the kids dismiss him as soon as they arrive at their destination, only call on him when they want something; the way he gives it every single time regardless.

Each girl in his bed, driving him like a crash-test car; the excuse to leave, the cold sheets in the morning. A freezing bathroom at a party, the echo of bullshit refracting off the cold tile.

The crack of ceramic against his skull, the fist in his sternum, the stifling ash in his lungs in a buried tunnel. Interrogation tactics, missing fingernails, drugged out of his mind; flesh monster, the loss of the one male adult he could actually depend on.

And before it all, the steel door, the silhouette, the—

No.

No, Steve knows that he is, at his core, what he has always been: unloveable.

After the reactivity, the intentional cruelty of his youth, he expects nothing other than a warning label.

Danger: do not interact. Prone to violence.

Steve is his father’s son, after all. They share the same ruthless ferocity, the same scarred knuckles.

He has spent so long convincing the world that anything can be turned into a weapon, and he started with his hands; if he squints long enough, blood pools itself into the crevices of his palms, fingernails curving into sharp edges and the remnants of whiskey bottles.

A product of his environment, no doubt; the weight of his family name, absent parents, superficial friends.

King Steve with a hollow crown, sat in his pristine castle with everything a teen could ask for except anyone to make him feel worth following. Like something other than a cheap toy, a pretty face, a chore to be put off until a more convenient time.

It’s fact of his life, something he felt no reason to doubt when people keep proving it to him, over and over and over.

He’s useful— for rides to the arcade, for a place to hangout when everywhere else has been vetoed, to wield a baseball bat studded with nails, the last line of defense, the one who can be counted on to take the hit— but not their friend. Not wanted, not valuable, and certainly not lovable.

So how can he possibly justify this unwavering loyalty, his propensity to follow them around like a stray dog waiting on table scraps? Why he keeps coming back, offering every part of himself when none of them would do the same for him?

Steve shrugs. “They all have their own shit going on, they can’t help it. I didn’t want to make things complicated.”

The drug dealer frowns, already shaking his head in disagreement. “That’s not— not good enough. They’re not too busy, they just don’t…”

Care.

They just don’t care.

Steve catches the moment that the other boy sees the bundle of scars peeking just over the hem of his boxers. Tears his own focus away from those small, circular burns; old enough to be suspicious, obvious enough that even a ten-year-old could come to the correct conclusion about their origin without much effort.

A kid with cigarette burns— not common, but definitely not rare.

A rich kid with cigarette burns? That just doesn’t happen.

“Doesn’t Vecna go after people with trauma? It’s not like Steve—”

His stomach roils, a distant nausea working its way up his esophagus. The younger teen holds his breath and waits, but Eddie doesn’t ask, just furrows his brow and grazes over the puckered skin with a single, calloused thumb.

Steve shivers, bites his lip, fights the urge to dislodge the soft touch and flee the room. He doesn’t.

Eddie goes back to taping the raw edges of his wounds closed.

A sick, twisted heat takes root in his stomach; invasive and insatiable, it chokes out his heart until it has nowhere left to go except up into his throat, and flourishes in the abandoned cavity left behind.

“Do you think when he chose me… do you think he knew?” Steve’s a conglomeration of dull apathy and the underlying static of panic; he feels like he’s back under the water, suspended in time and trying desperately not to drown. “That I wouldn’t say anything? Wouldn’t want to tell them, you, about… That… that they don’t…?”

The musician pulls out a roll of gauze, presses one end to his rib cage with more care than anyone has shown him in a long time.

“I think that you hide so much from everyone, more than anyone thinks that you do. And I think that, to someone like him, it’s easy to mistake that for shame.”

Oh.

“And what if I am?” Steve clenches his jaw, flattens his lips to disguise their infernal trembling. “Ashamed… of being known? Afraid that people will hate what they find, if I were to let people in— share those parts of myself?”

The last of the sunset dissipates from the sky, leaves the world outside of the window cast in a deep indigo.

A murmur, almost subconsciously, from his healer: “Isn’t everyone?”

He is some sort of wretched thing— must be, to warrant this raw, gnawing ache in his core. The withering, the erosion at the fringes of his being, exposing the live-wire at the heart of him.

Pressure, as the dressing is applied to his wounds. The light brush of skin against skin.

“You aren’t an inconvenience, you know.” Eddie wraps the last of the bandage around his abdomen, secures it in place. “You are allowed to ask for help. And other people want to help, if you let them.”

The babysitter hums, a non-answer, omitted confirmation. Can do little else, lest he wilt under the force of this personification of a star.

“I might not know why none of the kids said anything, but...“ Off to the side, the discarded towel is depositing water on the floor. When Eddie reaches for it, there’s a damp patch on his jeans that the babysitter stares at while his hands are taken, dabbed at with damp cotton. “Robin, Nancy, and I literally followed you into hell. You’re not taking anything from us that we wouldn’t freely give.”

The older boy’s gaze is wild, reverent. From where he is crouched in front of Steve, it must look like he’s kneeling before a monarch, a King.

What a resolute act of devotion: tending to the wounds of a martyr, washing the blood from each finger as if every millimeter of exposed skin is something worth defending.

Steve doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve such absolution; this exoneration from all of the sin coating his fingers and dripping from his teeth. He is nothing more than a child devouring overripe berries in another family’s garden, filling his vacant stomach with sweet crimson nectar that he will never be able to justify aching for.

He is no deity, no patron saint or messiah. He’s barely a king. ”I’m not worth—“

He has never been religious— or, at least definitely not after the monsters came into the picture. But he knew then, knows now— there is no heavenly father, no almighty God, that could give him back that purity, that holy golden ichor.

Whenever Steve had plead to this creator, prayed for help while pinned to the ground under the malicious intent of another— there was no response. Just the echo of his faith, his questions, being tossed back at him, neglected and unanswered.

”You’re worth everything, Steve Harrington.” Eddie’s intensity, his conviction, makes Steve’s heart lurch somewhere in his chest. “There is nothing you could ask from us that you haven’t deserved a hundred times over.”

The cloth, damp and abrasive against his palms, collects strawberry residue within its woven fibers.

His crown must be less hollow than he thought.

There is no god that can restore his virtue, slip the innocence back into his pockets, baptize him in the light of unconditional love— but Eddie… Eddie is just a man.

Just a man, who wiped each of his fingers clean; dressed his wounds with such gentle hands. Just a man, who kissed each bruise, each old scar, without the intent to hurt.

Just a man who held him, who pulled him back when his whole body was on the edge of a precipice.

Who answered his questions without judgement— without stripping him of his divinity, casting him down from the heavenly throne and into the sulphuric pits of eternal damnation.

Just this boy, who looks at him like he is worth more here, in this moment, than he ever would be nailed to a cross.

What god has ever done that for him?