#not like. right now or even within the next few months bc. i worked so hard to save all of that bc i knew i was about to crash again

[gideonisms]

thought about working a job again 20 dead 40 injured

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (07) | 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 (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 15.4k

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: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party. 

It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion. 

To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.

Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought. 

Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.

“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”

This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other. 

There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes. 

He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns. 

You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.

In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.

He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.

“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”

“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles. 

“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.

“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.

“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.

“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state. 

“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”

“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”

“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”

“What?”

“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”

The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”

“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”

“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”

“How brutal,” you tease again.

“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”

“You know about those?” You gasp. 

“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”

“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”

“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.

“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” he hums. 

It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied. 

Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.

The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.

“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”

“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.

Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.

“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.

He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here. 

He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.

Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.

“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”

“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.

“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”

“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”

“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”

“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”

“I will.”

Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself. 

It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night. 

For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does. 

He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it. 

Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them. 

And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?

It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out. 

After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back. 

This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself. 

He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.

But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile. 

Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break. 

She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.

“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked. 

It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say. 

Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to. 

But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming. 

It’s safer where he is.

So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.

“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words. 

“Okay,” she whispers in submission. 

She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to. 

But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.  

He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.

“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”

You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?

Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment. 

Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”

“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”

“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”

“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.

“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”

“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”

“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”

You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over. 

The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.

“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”

“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”

“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”

“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.

“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.

“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”

“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”

“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”

“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it’s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”

“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh. 

The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility. 

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you. 

Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them. 

You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.  

There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for. 

Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted. 

They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.

“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.

“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”

“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle. 

“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”

“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”

“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”

“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”

“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”

“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”

She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time. 

The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too. 

After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.

Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him. 

Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally. 

“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.

“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.

“No, but a person would,” she shrugged. 

“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”

“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.”

There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”

“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.” 

The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day. 

He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day. 

It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas. 

Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.

He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him. 

“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he. 

It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.

“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”

“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say. 

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.  

The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it. 

“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.

The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him. 

For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together. 

He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts. 

He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”

“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”

“You… had this made for me?”

He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.

“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”

“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad. 

You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking. 

But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return. 

“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”

“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished. 

It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants. 

But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks. 

You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you. 

Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.

Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it. 

“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.

“Yes.”

“Is that the one on your desk?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”

“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”

“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere. 

“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow. 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”

He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other. 

“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop. 

You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem. 

Happy birthday, it reads. 

This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time. 

It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.

You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes. 

Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful. 

And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.

[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.

It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time. 

Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.

The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track. 

It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it. 

He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job. 

His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself. 

You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.

You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened. 

The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.

“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”

“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”

“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”

“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face. 

“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”

“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.

“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”

“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”

His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.

“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.

“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”

“I will, sir,” you reply. 

You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more. 

Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that. 

He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you. 

He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you. 

“Let me,” he says.

You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself. 

It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.

He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.

“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.

It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.

One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat. 

It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on. 

You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.

“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”

“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”

“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.

“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.

“You were there?!” You gasp.

“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans. 

“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug. 

“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”

“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”

“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”

“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”

“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.

Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.” 

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration. 

“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it. 

He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.

“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about. 

“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases. 

You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.

“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”

“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”

You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.

“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.

“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back. 

“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”

“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”

“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.

“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”

“You were there?”

“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”

Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him. 

“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.

“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”

Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.

“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”

“What started?”

“Me, liking her.”

It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday. 

“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.

“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give. 

There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space. 

Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays. 

The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes. 

Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well. 

You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.

“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”

“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”

“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”

You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.

“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he hums.

“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back. 

Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.

“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.

You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can. 

He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby. 

“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”

“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”

He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again. 

There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.

Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.

Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook. 

Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done. 

You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook. 

It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone. 

The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night. 

You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.  

Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same. 

“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look. 

“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time. 

“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.

He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again. 

Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.

“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”

And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you. 

“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.  

He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.

“All good?” He asks. 

“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room. 

He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.

There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same. 

It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.

But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away. 

He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off. 

You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.

But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.

“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”

“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday. 

“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?” 

“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.” 

Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”

“I got used to you.” 

He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.

“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.

“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”

Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness. 

“Consideration,” you say instead. 

Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.

“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”

Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.

When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.

There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed. 

There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one. 

The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays. 

It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take. 

“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”

“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.” 

You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well. 

Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.

Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.

“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.

“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases. 

It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.

Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”

“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists. 

“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”

You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it. 

You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.

“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.

You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.

“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”

“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”

“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks. 

It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance. 

“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”

“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.

A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything. 

“I will,” he nods. 

Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”

He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him. 

And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.

You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too. 

“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out. 

You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.

“Ready to head home?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. 

You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.

“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks. 

“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”

Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything. 

For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on. 

The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.

You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.

You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of. 

There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.

Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.

Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.

You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual. 

You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there. 

But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.

By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home. 

“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”

It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.

He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so  you settle with just watching him walk away. 

But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone. 

“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.

“Good night, ___. And thank you.”

It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar. 

It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again. 

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[weemssapphic]

Hey, so I have a thout that's been eating away at my brain for a while... Larissa and Reader have been in a relationship for a while and reader likes to vape. They keep this secret from Larissa and avoid doing it around her or people that know her bc they're worried she'll disaprove. One day, Larissa gets done with a meeting early and goes back to her quarters and finds reader vaping on the balcony. They freak out and starts apologizing saying they understand if this changes how she sees them and Larissa shuts them down, confessing that she smokes and has been hiding it for the same reason as reader. Just lots of fluff, basically.

Totally get it if you don;t feel comfotable writing this, vaping isn't for everyone.

(sorry about the spelling/grammer mistakes, I'm high af right now.)

Hello :) thank you for the request - I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Larissa Weems x reader Words: ~1.4k | ao3 link in title

It’s a chilly autumn afternoon and you’re huddled on the balcony of Larissa’s quarters, pulling the sleeve of your jacket down over your hand as you lean against the stone balustrade. You bring your vape to your lips and it crackles softly as you take a hit, the scent of watermelon filling the air as you exhale. You’ve lucked out with your teaching schedule this semester and managed to get Friday afternoons off, and today you’re especially grateful for that: it’s your 3 month anniversary and you’re intending to surprise Larissa by having dinner ready when she gets back to her quarters this evening.

You’re grateful that Larissa’s balcony faces the woods - no one ever comes out on this side of the school, so no one will see you having a quick vape out here. It’s not that you’re ashamed of your habit, you truly don’t care what other people think of you - except for Larissa. You care a hell of a lot about what Larissa thinks of you.

A few weeks into your teaching contract, you’d overheard Larissa scolding a group of students in the quad for passing around a vape, confiscating the little device - when she’d run into you on her way back into the school, she’d made a disgruntled comment on how disappointed she was in the students for picking up such a habit. Her comment had made you falter, as you’d been on your way outside for a vape yourself, and you resigned yourself to hiding this part of you from the principal - you imagined she’d be disappointed in you, too.

As you stand outside watching the wind pass through the golden leaves of the trees bordering the school’s campus, you run through your plans for the evening in your head. The flowers still need to be put in a suitable vase, and you still need to get changed - you should probably get started on dinner within the next hour, too, so that Larissa doesn’t have to wait too long to eat when she finishes work.

You’re so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you don’t hear the door to Larissa’s quarters creaking open, or her heels clicking on the hardwood floors behind you, until it’s too late, until her smooth voice has called out “darling?” and you can feel her much taller figure looming behind you.

Her hands on your waist make you jump, which in turn makes you curse and fumble with your vape as it nearly slips from your hand and over the balustrade. 

“Shit, Larissa,” you gasp, giggling nervously as you recover from the shock, your vape now held firmly in your hand as you lean back against your partner and melt into her warmth, a stark contrast to the biting cold air.

“What are you doing out here?” Larissa asks softly, her hands sliding around you to pull you flush against her, her lips meeting the crown of your head.

The color drains from your face and your palm suddenly feels clammy around your vape - as Larissa cranes her head and looks down at you, you know there’s no point in trying to hide it and brush it off. She’s seen it already.

“I-I…” The words die in your throat. As much as you’re sure she’d be disgusted by your habit, you’re even more certain that the fact you’ve been lying over the past few months is going to make everything that much worse.

“Is that a vape?” You can’t read Larissa’s expression, not that you’re really trying - you refuse to turn around in her arms, too busy trying to avoid eye contact and hide your growing blush as you rack your brain for a plausible explanation.

“You’re back early,” is all you manage to croak out, cursing yourself internally for the thin film of tears already clouding your vision. 

“The mayor canceled our meeting,” Larissa says, sounding rather absent-minded, her eyes darting between you and your vice-like grip on your vape. “Darling, do you vape?”

“I… yeah,” you finally concede, crossing your arms over your chest to hug yourself. “I’m really sorry, I should’ve told you…”

“Why didn’t you?” Larissa’s voice sounds softer than you’d thought it would, less harsh than you’d imagined, and you risk a glance up at her to see her watching you with a furrowed brow. She looks a bit confused, but her expression is absent of the judgment you were so certain you’d find, and you bite your lip nervously.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently, I guess,” you mumble and, to your surprise, Larissa lets out a soft chuckle. “What?”

Larissa lets go of your waist and disappears into her quarters for a moment, leaving you on the balcony. Your brow furrows as you watch her bend over her handbag and retrieve something, before coming back outside and closing the balcony door behind her. She rests her forearms on the balustrade and your eyes widen as she flips open the top of a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out between long fingers and placing it between pursed, painted lips to light it with an ornate, silver lighter. When she plucks the cigarette from between her lips with two fingers, there’s a faint ring of lipstick around the end.

“Y-you… didn’t tell me you smoke,” you stammer out, a little taken aback.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently, I guess,” Larissa quotes you, her lips curling into a soft, sheepish smile, before she lifts the cigarette to her lips once more and takes a deep drag. She steps towards the little wrought-iron table on her balcony, taking a seat at one of the two matching chairs and reaching onto the floor behind a rather large potted plant - there’s an ashtray hidden there that she lifts onto the table, flicking the ash off the cigarette and crossing one leg over the other.

You’re a bit dazed, still processing the situation as you sit on the other chair, drawing your knees up to your chest and taking a hit of your vape. You can feel a smile slowly growing on your face however, relaxing more and more as you watch Larissa smoke her cigarette. You can’t help but chuckle a little, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. “I can’t believe I never realized you smoked,” you giggle, and your laugh makes Larissa smile, too.

“It wasn’t easy to hide,” she concedes with a blush. “I swear I don’t normally wear this much perfume…” 

Her comment makes you laugh harder, a burden being lifted off your shoulders as you no longer feel like you’re lying to your partner, and you stand and walk over to Larissa, coming to a stop right in front of her. She uncrosses her legs, stubbing out her cigarette as you straddle her so that she can place her hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around her neck, resting your forehead against hers and smiling softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, either, darling,” Larissa whispers back, giving your hips a reassuring squeeze before moving one hand to your cheek, cupping it and drawing you in for a slow, tender kiss that steals the air from your lungs. She tastes different than usual and it reminds you of your current situation, making you smile as you deepen the kiss and flick your tongue against hers, drawing a soft moan from her throat.

“You promise you don’t see me differently?” you murmur between kisses, and Larissa draws back from the kiss just enough to meet your gaze, bright blue eyes glistening with affection as they dance between your own. 

“Not at all.” She goes in for another kiss, her own lips curling into a smile against yours, and her hand slips into the hair at the nape of your neck, painted nails scratching gently at the base of your scalp. “What are you doing in my quarters, anyway?” she asks with a soft smirk, knowing you must be planning something as it’s your anniversary.

“What, can’t I just get some peace and quiet here? The teacher’s wing is always so busy.”

Larissa huffs and playfully pinches your side, causing you to yelp. 

“Okay, okay, I was going to surprise you with dinner. Happy?”

Larissa’s smile widens - made all the more endearing by the way her lipstick is smudged ever so slightly. “Very.”

x

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @wh0s-vesper @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @catechristiesstuff @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @mrs.prentiss @ilovetlcc @toutoubum @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @Gwens0girl @Larissa-Weems-chokehold @ladylarissaweems @Makemyworldworthliving @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr @nightingalespen @sapphicbee223 @hollymymolly

[runningfrom2am]

you’re losing me - r.c

summary: after standing, unwavering at Rafe's side while you took and lost the gold and the cross over and over again, you've finally had enough.

tags/warnings: angst, established relationship (rafe x reader), song fic (you're losing me, taylor swift), unedited, some swearing

wc: 1k

i feel like this is so shit bc i don't ever do oneshots but i had too bc this song is just too good- taylor swift has done it again ladies and gents

you stand at the front door of your boyfriend of seven years childhood home with an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. you haven’t been here in months, and it feels like forever. it doesn’t even feel like a home to you anymore. neither does he. you spent a long time contemplating whether to throw out everything you built together, or keep it. eventually you decided.

you take a deep breath as you bang your fist against the door, exhaling as you step back from the door and look up onto the balcony. within seconds, you see the familiar face of your boyfriend, peeking over the edge, a phone held to his ear and with his free hand he holds a finger out to you, signalling he’ll be down in a second. you nod as your eyes fall back to the door once he disappears.

“babe, what are you doing here?” rafe asks as he slings the door open, a nervous smile crossing over his face.

you step past him into the entrance of tannyhill mansion, turning to face him.

“you left me in guadeloupe, in a big empty house with nothing to do but wait for you to come back and you never did!” he freezes for a moment at your outburst before regaining his composure, shutting the door.

“i know, i’m so sorry, love, but i’m handling some business here for my dad- you know that.” he explains, reaching out and resting his hand on your shoulder.

“you’re dad actually sent me.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “and i see there’s not even a for sale sign on the front lawn, so really, what have you been doing?”

he rolls his eyes, simultaneously dropping his hand back to his side. “listen, i’m working on it, okay? there’s a lot to do, with the money and the cross and the gold and-“ you cut him off.

“stop!” you shout, louder than you probably intended but after weeks of hardly hearing a word from him, texts and calls going unanswered, you need him to hear you. to see you, again. you find yourself frustratedly holding your hands up next to your head. you open your eyes and look at your boyfriend, hardly recognizing the man in front of you as he stared back in shock. “enough about the stupid gold and that stupid cross! i just- i can’t take this anymore!”

“you weren’t saying it was stupid a few months ago when you helped me pull it out of the fucking ocean- and, and you didn’t say that when we got robbed at gunpoint by my sister and her stupid look boyfriend over that same gold. so don’t tell me, now, that you think it’s stupid. we almost died for that, y/n!”

“rafe, stop.” you say, calm even as he shouted back at you. at least he’s here. at least you’re talking. “you’re losing me.”

“what?” his voice is softer now, and the expression on his face tells you he’s reeling over this information. after everything you’ve been through together, everything you’ve risked and lost over this gold, he couldn’t lose you too.

“i can’t do this anymore.” you explain softly, shaking your head and looking down at his shoes. “what happened to us? we’re hurting people. i know that’s not right, but i was always doing everything for you. fighting only in your army- i just assumed we were always doing what was right but i saw the way those kids look at us. we’re monsters to them, rafe.” your eyes lock with his again as he shakes his head. “and you’re just ignoring me now. what we had is long gone.”

“no- no. i’m- we’re doing this for us. once i melt down that cross and sell it i’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. everything we’ve fought for, it’s yours. i promise.” he insists, grabbing your shoulders and rubbing them reassuringly.

“i knew you took the cross…” you chuckle, but it lacks humour. “don’t melt it down. it belongs to pope and his family in rights, we should just give it back.”

“you’re not hearing me-“ he starts, but you cut him off again.

“no, you’re not hearing me.” you say, shaking your head. “you’ve changed. i’ve changed. we were good people, and i can’t live with myself if this is who we are now. i can’t keeping hurting people because of you, over money. it’s so stupid.”

“i don’t understand…” he says, staring deep into your eyes, his own widening at what he knew you were insinuating.

“i know you don’t.” you smile sadly in return, reaching up to cup his cheek in your palm. “you are not the boy i fell in love with in middle school. and i am not that girl anymore either. i gave you all the best versions of me, i was always here for you, but you don’t reach for me anymore.”

“no- no you can’t leave me now.” rafe says in protest, his blue eyes welling up with tears. “it’s almost done. we’re almost done and everything will go back to normal.”

you softly sigh. “i don’t think it can. i’ve shown you signs for months now- that i wasn’t happy. and every time you gave me this same speech.”

“no, y/n, i love you. you know that.” he says, grabbing your hand now and pressing your knuckles to his lips, bruises there faded while your nails had been bitten down until they bled. until this last year, he had never seen you without a fresh manicure.

“i know.” you whisper. “but i just can’t.” you shake your head, pulling away from him and stepping back towards the door.

he stays silent, watching you as you stop before you grab the handle. “say something.” you say, refusing to look back over your shoulder. the air is thick with the loss of this relationship- and rafe’s never-ending indecision.

“i don’t know what you want to hear.” he mumbles his reply.

“i only wanted you to see me.” you reply, looking back at him now. “if you choose me, then we can talk.” you say, walking out and closing the door behind you.

rafe stands in the foyer, breathing heavily as he thinks about what he should do. what he has to do.

it’s you, or the cross.

[hoshigray]

A Pricked Hand to Hold

Just thinking about h*lding h*nds with Miguel for the first time bc I'm still fucking soft for this man (like it's so bad).

An: Yup, it's been three weeks, and my infatuation for this man has yet to falter (or that movie in general bc I've seen it like 5-6 times already, and can't get tired of it). This was meant to be a little smthn, but I just wanted to get my soft aggression out of the way. Also, tysm for 1k followers again!! Like fr, y'all are too sweet :') Sacrificed sleep to get this done, sooooo hope you guys like it!! If there are spelling/grammar errors, my dumbass will take care of it tmrw bc I need to take a fckin nap right tf now ahhhhhh— Also! Gonna make an ATSV masterlist later today, so I'll be sure to link it when it's done!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - h*nd h*lding (barf) - the reader is implied to be in college (at least age 20) - you and Miguel aren't together [yet] but the pining is strong in this one! - Lyla and Jessica teasing you lovestruck idiots lol - you accidentally prick yourself with your lead pencil, but no blood or injuries - ayo you and Miguel almost kiss tho??

Wc: 2.1k

As usual, it was a busy day at headquarters. Many anomalies have been captured for Margo to send back home, Spiders helping other Spiders fight off evil-doers and placing them back in their universes, and Pavitr having a scare nearly revealing his identity to his girlfriend, Gayatri.

Then there's you, sitting at a table doing your homework that needs to be finished for the lecture tomorrow. But you're not alone. In front of the table are three others discussing matters of their own. Lyla is giving new information about another anomaly that needs to be captured before going home, and Jessica's leaning on her motorbike listening to her pixel friend. Right next to her is another taller person listening along as well.

Miguel O'Hara — leader of the Spider Society and the man you've been pining for a while now.

You've been working here for a few months, taking in Margo's shifts or helping Lyla relay messages to other Spiders across the multiverse. At first, you've tried to keep it simple and only see it as a job. But the more you work here, the closer you get to others...and your boss, Miguel, is no exception.

Things started short and blunt with him between you two — just simple greetings and exchanges of the necessary information. But then there was a time when the man was in HQ for far too long, probably sacrificing too much sleep and time to eat that day. So, you got him something from the cafeteria and a little note telling him to "Take care of yourself, leader!" before going home.

From that day on, you and Miguel got closer slowly but surely. Not only does he appreciate you reminding him to take breaks or grab something to eat, but he also checks up on you whenever it's your shift, talks to you on his breaks, or eats dinner with you whenever he has a chance (or when he's not stressed out).

And how you talk to each other is much more comfortable and personal. Sure, you're still respectful of his position and are aware of his duties, but it's always a guilty pleasure when he spends his little free time with you. Unfortunately, you've developed feelings for the tall and brawny Spiderman due to this.

You know how complicated it is to have feelings for someone, especially within the work field, so this is something that you have no faith in whatsoever. But for some reason, you can't help but think something between the two of you is starting to bloom...and based on his actions, maybe Miguel feels the same way as well? Lyla and Jessica tease you, saying it's plain to see that even Pav fangirls about you two.

".../n."

However, for a man like him, is such a thing possible?

"Y/n."

Your thoughts vanish as you turn to the person calling for your attention, just to find it's from Miguel. The two women are nowhere to be found, probably tending to other matters you didn't catch because of your overthinking.

"Yes!" you stutter a reply. Oh God, I hope I didn't make him call on me so many times...

"Done with your homework?" He asks while coming to your side of the table.

You give him a nod, fidgeting with your mechanical pencil. "Yeah, I took care of the stuff for my classes tomorrow. Now I just got a paper to finish by Friday...What about you? Gonna head out soon?"

"I would, but I gotta stay here in case Jess needs backup for the mission. She just left to fix up her bike before she goes."

A chuckle sneaks past you, and Miguel swoons at the sound of it. "Are you sure you wanna do that? Didn't Lyla keep bothering you the last time?"

You can tell he reminisces the time you recall; his sigh and a shake from the lead confirm so. "Yeah, well, when is she not bothering me."

"Heard that." The woman appears in front of him quickly before disappearing again, leaving Miguel a little puzzled before a slight scowl paints his face. Yet it's not so bad when he sees you laugh at the interaction.

"I swear," your giggles wear down, but your smile remains. "It's like you two are siblings or something. But that just means the pestering comes from a place of love."

He hums at your words. "Yeah, love..."

For the past few months, you've been a reoccurring theme in Miguel's life that he thought he'd never experience again. From the day he met you, he figured keeping his distance and maintaining an appropriate work relationship would benefit him. But he was a fool to challenge your beauty and welcoming aura whenever you entered the scene. Especially your kind gestures, starting with the food and your little note for him.

It was apparent then that avoidance would do more harm to himself than good, so he spent his days getting to know you more, understanding you more, appreciating you more...and worse, loving you more.

An emotion such as love has been something that's only brought up painful memories and anguish. And for that reason, Miguel has chosen to dedicate his life and being to doing something he's good at — his job protecting the multiverse. Because, in his eyes, it's the only thing he seems capable of. Not love.

...However, whenever you look at him, speak to him, or smile at him, Miguel can't fight the twinge of his heart longing for something — longing for you. And he knows he isn't the only one who thinks so since Lyla constantly ridicules him about his "schoolboy crush," just like a sibling.

Nonetheless, he still doesn't go far from the talks you share with him or the times you eat together in a friendly manner. Because that's what he and you are comfortable with, and he wouldn't want to break it. Yet he can't help but wonder what would happen if he was just a little more selfish.

Be more selfish and pursue you...without losing you.

"OUCH!!"

Without hurting you.

Miguel's thoughts are immediately halted when he hears your hurtful cry. You drop your pencil and grab your finger as you wince through the pain. And he wastes no time coming to your proximity to examine what happened. "What!? Something wrong?"

"Ahhhh, yeah, I'm fine," You reassure him with an attempted smile. "I just accidentally pricked myself with my pencil."

"Let me see."

The words take a long to register before the man takes your hand in his, the back of your hand resting on his palm while he surveys your fingers. He then sees a tiny circle indent on your middle finger. "I don't see any pieces of lead."

"Oh, thank goodness," you exhale in relief. "Because I don't think I'd survive tomorrow if I did. I got three lectures that day!"

Miguel chortles at your comment, and it has the beat of your heart quicken. "So sorry for you."

Your smile is still prominent. "Thank you, Miguel."

"Don't mention it."

Silence follows those words, yet they're substituted with gazes between you and the man. The twinge on your lips slowly dissolves the more you lose yourself in his burnt amber eyes. The same goes for Miguel, who still has your hand in his.

The internal turmoil in his mind doesn't ease at that fact, incapable of deciphering whether to let go. And when your hand slowly reciprocates the hold — turning it for both palms to face each other — his breath hitches.

"Miguel..." his name appeared in a whisper, only for him to hear. Your breathing goes shaky when he replies with his fingers intertwined with yours. And you notice him take a tense gulp, easing your nerves to know that he's also nervous.

He knows he shouldn't be this close to you as it could jeopardize the relationship you have spent all these months building and maintaining together. However, this is the first time he's been so close to you, touching you. And his heart pushes him to want more.

He knows he shouldn't...but curiosity is an intriguing dance. That's why he slowly leans forward to you.

And you go rigid by the notion...yet your eyes are drawn to his lips, and you follow suit by going inward. Eyes close, letting the moment take place for itself.

"Ready, Miguel?"

Nevermind.

Both eyes open immediately, and locked hands are withdrawn from each other. Miguel puts on his mask quickly, but you could still see a slight flush of pink on his cheeks and ears before they were covered up. You straighten yourself and look to the other side of the table to see Jessica on her motorbike entering the scene.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

"Oh—" the woman spots you two before Miguel stands straight up, and she doesn't try to hide the smile that creeps on her face. "Oh. Was I interrupting something?"

"No." You two say in unison. Jess only lifts a brow through her yellow goggles. You continue with an explanation while you pack up your stuff. "I accidentally pricked my finger with my mechanical pencil, so Miguel checked it out to see if I had any lead on it."

"Ooh, yeah, those aren't fun. Basically like a splinter." Before Jessica could say more, Lyla appeared in everyone's line of sight.

"Good, you two are still here." She jumps around between Jessica and Miguel. "The anomaly we discussed earlier has jumped to another dimension as predicted; better get them now so we can go home."

The two nod while you get up from the table with your backpack. "Good luck out there, guys." You address the older three before exiting for the night, and they all say their goodbyes to you.

For a few seconds, your eyes linger on Miguel. Despite the mask covering his face, his gaze was intense and palpable. Without saying a word, you let your eyes say your final words before turning to leave.

Miguel still watches you leave until he's unable to spot you through the dark hall. And unfortunately for him, he can feel two pairs of eyes on him. He mentally prepares himself before looking at the two women who harbor shameless grins. "What's with the faces?"

Lyla and Jessica only share a look amongst themselves and shrug before answering him. "Oh, I don't know, Miguel." The pixelated woman darts close to the man. "What's with your face?"

"Wh-What are you—"

"C'mon now, Miguel." Jessica cuts him off. "Seems like something more was going on than just a pricked finger."

He sighs. "Well, you're wrong. Because that's all it was." The two share another look with each other as their smirks go higher.

"Oh~, my darling Miguel," Jessica changes her voice to a higher pitch and daydream tone. "I wish you luck on your mission and that you return to see me tomorrow~."

"Don't you worry, my wonderful Y/n," Despite Miguel's eyes narrowing at Lyla's terrible impression of his voice, she still acted out the role. "I will return to you unscathed and have you in my loving arms in no time~."

"I don't talk like that." The two women chuckle at his blunt statement. "How old do you think I am?"

"Old enough to look like a man but still scared to talk to your lil' crush." Jessica crosses her arms with a matter-of-fact attitude, her smile itching broader when Miguel rolls his eyes through the mask.

"Ay, por Dios, can we please open the portal already?" The poor man can only take so much teasing from the two, making him feel like he should've left with you instead.

Lyla giggles one last time before Jessica uses her watch to open a portal to the desired dimension. "Whatever you say, lover boy." The portal opens, and a flash of colors and shapes contrasts with the dull room. Jessica is the first to go, Miguel following right behind her.

Even when going on his mission, his mind can't stop thinking about you and the moment you shared together earlier. It was a risky thing to have happened, and he scolds himself for letting such a thing happen. Miguel knows he isn't a person for love, for it's something meant to be destroyed by his very touch. You are no exception; the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He loves you too much to put you through that.

But then the compliance and willingness you've expressed in holding his hand surely meant that you wanted something more, right?

If Miguel were selfish enough, he'd use that as a hint. A hint to look forward to what other things you'd allow him to express to you.

If he were selfish enough, he would plan to approach you tomorrow in the right way.

If he were selfish enough, he'd test out the waters more and finally let this "love" flourish into something better.

[theother-victoria]

WHAT ONCE WAS

SYNOPSIS: Accountability is a bitter pill to swallow, but what hurts more is being forgotten by the one he loves the most. As he rebuilds your relationship once more, Scaramouche has a difficult decision to make: have you live in blissful ignorance or admit the truth and risk everything falling apart again.

TAGS: angst w fluff, happy ending bc I’m not that cruel, major spoilers for the “Inversion of Genesis” interlude archon quest, scaramouche is referred to as “Ena” bc that’s the name I gave him, gn reader, 11.7k word count

NOTES: so this is where I’ve been for the past *checks calendar* three months

Here’s the in-depth explanation and analysis behind this fic if you want to read it afterward!

Watch me post this and then inevitably disappear for a few more 🫡

Scaramouche has been acting strange lately.

He’s been unusually silent like he’s pondering something and staring off into space most of the time. When you ask him about it, he shrugs your questions off and says it’s nothing.

“What’s on your mind, Scara?”

“Nothing. Just… thinking.”

And the conversations always end there. He makes no effort to elaborate and eventually, you stop digging for answers. Other than that, he still acts normally. He still has his sharp tongue and attitude. You still get into your daily fights and scuffles with him over nothing. You’d return home from work and he’d return home from whatever he was doing in the city (something along the lines of community service was what you managed to gather from the bits and pieces of information he told you). In a sense, everything was still the same. His sudden radio silence at times was startling, but nothing ever changed in your relationship as a result of it.

… But really, it’s kind of scary how intensely he zones out sometimes.

Then, everything changes one night.

You’re getting ready for bed with him while he stares out the window as usual. If you follow his line of sight, it leads to the Sanctuary of Surasthana. He’s been oddly fixated on that place lately and you haven’t been able to get an answer as to why.

You take a seat on the bed next to him. There’s a look in his eyes that tells you he’s plotting something- that there’s an idea brewing in his mind.

“Thinking again? What nefarious scheme are you plotting-”

You don’t even get the chance to tease him further before he pulls you into a tight hug. Normally, he’s nowhere near this affectionate, preferring to keep his distance even in your close relationship, but now he’s holding you close as if he’s afraid he’ll lose you otherwise.

“...Scara? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to give you a hug.”

His soft violet hair tickles your neck and you feel his hands absentmindedly tracing circles around your waist.

“Is there a reason as to why?”

“No. Just felt like it.”

You eye him suspiciously. As soon as it started, he pulls away from the hug and flicks your forehead.

“Go to sleep now. I’ll join you in a bit. Just… let me think for a bit longer.

“I love you.”

He says the last part like it’s nothing. It nearly gives you whiplash and you look at him strangely. He’s really lost his mind this time, hasn’t he? He almost never does that.

“What’re you gaping at me like that for? Go to sleep already.”

He lightly hits you over the head with a pillow before you can say anything else. You roll your eyes and with a huff, roll onto your side until you’re fast asleep within a few minutes.

Scaramouche doesn’t join you as he promised. Instead, he continues to stare out the window at the moon, his gaze occasionally flickering back to your sleeping figure. A rare expression of uncertainty crosses his face as he sinks deep into thought.

Is this really the right decision?

Time stretches out over an eternity. Hours pass and the moon rises higher into the sky. Scaramouche debates with himself, unsure of what to do.

This is a decision I can’t go back from.

Throughout his long life, he’s never been faced with a choice as difficult as this. Neither decision ends well for either of you. Deep down, he knew what the correct answer was, yet he refused to consider it for more than a few seconds.

What would he do if he lost everything all over again?

Time was running out. Scaramouche gets up to leave with his mind made up. Lying to himself wouldn’t do anything and Nahida was waiting for him. He plants a soft kiss on your cheek and stares at you longingly one last time before putting his hat on and heading out the door. It closes behind him with a silent click.

Whatever happens next, happens. He’ll witness the results of his actions tomorrow.

The next morning, you wake up feeling refreshed and your mind clearer than it’s ever been. It feels like you’ve been asleep for a very, very long time and you’ve just woken up.

And instantly, you notice something is off.

There are traces of another person everywhere. From the Inazuman-style clothes hanging in the closet that most definitely aren’t yours to the ink-wash paintings hanging on the wall, it’s evident that someone has influenced your life tremendously.

But who? Your mind is drawing up blanks as to who it could be.

When you get downstairs, it’s even more prominent. A pair of slippers that are too big for you by the stairwell. Books sitting on the bookshelf that after examining their titles and summaries, aren’t to your liking but are still there anyway. Traditional Inazuman sandals and shoes are lined up next to yours by the front door. None of it matches the vibe of your house and yet, they look as if they’ve been there forever, weathered and worn with time.

There’s a photo sitting on a side table in the living room that catches your attention. Upon closer inspection, it’s of you and a young man sitting side by side and posing for the camera. His attire is… unique. You can’t say you’ve seen anything quite like it before.

The first thing that catches your attention is the wide-brimmed hat he’s wearing. It’s ornate, with gold decorations and a veil in the back. His clothes seem like they cost a fortune and appear to be from Inazuma, similar to the ones hanging in your bedroom closet. A smirk plays across his face, yet there’s a gentle look in his eyes as he gazes at you smiling at the camera. An arm is slung around your shoulder, pulling you close.

Clearly, you have- or had?- some sort of special relationship with him according to this photo. But you don’t recognize his face. You can’t remember anything about this man. You don’t even know his name.

Who is he?

Someone knocks at the door. Three solid thumps against the wood and then silence. The sound echoes in your ears and you can feel yourself get up to answer the door. Why does it feel like you have no control over your body right now? Why does time feel like it’s moving so slowly?

Why are you so afraid of what awaits you on the other side of the door?

You open the door to reveal a young man waiting patiently. With a shock, you realize he’s the same man in the photo. He has the same fair skin, the same eyes, and the same blunt haircut.

(He’s even prettier up close and in person.)

He’s changed quite a bit too. His attire is different now. He wears an open-chested kimono with a black bodysuit underneath and pleated shorts. The furisode kimono is dyed in shades of blue and white that resemble the sky and small birds are depicted on the long sleeves as if they are taking to the skies. His hat has lost the veil, but it’s more ornate and now resembles a lotus, the metal gleaming in the late afternoon sun. More surprisingly is the Anemo vision pinned proudly to his robes. By the looks of it, it seems as if he built his entire outfit around it.

But what surprises you the most is his face. He seems… unburdened now. Like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders for the first time.

There’s a look of trepidation on his face and a small spark of hope in his eyes as he meets your gaze.

“... Can I help you?”

The spark of hope quickly dies at your response. His face is crestfallen, yet all he does is let out a resigned sigh.

“I’m a lost traveler that’s in need of a place to stay. Do you mind if I stay at your house for a little while?”

You glance back at the photo, then back at him. Under any other circumstances, you would have said no, but this time…

“Of course. But I don’t know your name yet.”

He pauses for a moment. His gaze darts around like he was searching for an answer- or several answers. You’re beginning to wonder if you said the wrong thing before he chuckles and smiles, finally relaxing.

“What you call me doesn’t matter. Call me anything you want.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

He huffs a sigh. Persistent as always, he thinks.

“Others call me Wanderer. Call me that if you’re strapped for ideas.”

“Wanderer…”

It’s an interesting name for sure. In your opinion, it really can’t be considered a name. It’s more suited for a description.

“That’s quite the interesting name you’ve got there, but it’s awkward to say and isn’t really suited for a name.”

“If you don’t like it, call me something else then,” he retorts. You ignore the remark and mentally go through the limited collection of Inazuman names you know of. None of them are suitable until a long-forgotten one hits you out of the blue.

“Hmm… how about the name Ena?”

“Ena,” he repeats to himself, trying the name on for size. To your surprise, you watch as his scowl melts into a grin and his eyes soften. His eyes shine with delight and he lets out a little chuckle.

“Meaning ‘gift from god’. I like it.”

I wouldn’t consider myself that, he thinks. Far from it, actually. But if that’s what you think I am, then I’ll believe it wholeheartedly.

“And by the way, Ena is a girl’s name.”

Your eyes go wide with shock.

“I-really? Wait, I’m sorry for-!”

You’re interrupted by his unabashed laughter at your dumbfounded expression. The smug look on his face tells you that he got the desired reaction out of you.

“You should’ve seen your face! It’s so easy to get you worked up over nothing, you know?”

“Stop pulling my leg like that!”

For some reason, this kind of argument with him over nothing feels… familiar. You push the thought to the side and storm away, huffing and puffing in irritation.

“Whatever. Come inside and make yourself at home. Just don’t make a mess of anything.”

Ena goes quiet and his wistful gaze lingers on the spot you were just a few moments ago. He lets out a drawn-out sigh and an unwelcome, though familiar, feeling tugs at the heart he now knows he has. Was it regret? Sorrow? Longing for something so close yet so far, barely out of touch?

Whatever it was, the full weight of his actions had finally hit him. Karma had finally come back to make him pay. He lifts his Anemo vision up and eyes it. It glows in response and he scoffs.

… He can’t say he misses the feeling of it.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow- accountability and the uncertainty of the future. He glances inside your house and sighs before shaking his head and heading inside.

You’re just as lovely as the day I lost you.

The next day, he has an interesting idea. You were eating breakfast around the table with him not-so-subtly criticizing your cooking skills and you telling him to “make his own if it’s so bad then.” He had scoffed and said he’ll take you up on that offer.

(This scene feels strangely domestic and familiar…)

Ena pushes his (empty) bowl to the side. There’s that look in his eyes that tells you he’s up to no good. How you managed to recognize it after less than a day with him, you have no idea.

“How would you like to travel the world with me?”

You pause and stare at him blankly.

“What?”

“You heard me. How would you like to travel the world? I’m sure you’ve always wanted to do that, right?”

“With you in the way? No thanks.”

He scowls at that and flicks your forehead. You yelp in pain and bat his hands away before turning and staring out the window for a bit.

“But all jokes aside, you’re right. I’ve always wanted to travel the world ever since I was little.”

You pause and bite your lip before giving him a suspicious look.

“First off, why are you offering this?”

He rolls his eyes and laughs.

“I just thought it’d be pretty pathetic if you died without ever seeing the world. Plus, I wanted to-”

He stops himself from saying anything else just in time. You stare at him strangely and he brushes you off. It’s your turn to roll your eyes now as you gather the dishes and begin washing them.

I wanted to show you the places I once took you to that you’ve now forgotten, was what he wanted to say. How will you react now that we’ve started over? Will you react with wonder at the dazzling lights of Liyue Harbor? Laugh and dance happily amongst the wide expanse of grassy plains in Mondstadt? Go silent with awe at the solemn rule of the Shogun in Inazuma?

He silently laughs at himself. He’s become weaker ever since he met you all those years ago. Not like he minded.

You’ve finished the dishes and you’re staring at him with an idea brewing in your head.

“So what I’m hearing is an offer for a free vacation with no strings attached.”

Your tone is mischievous and there’s that shit-eating grin on your face he knows all too well. Ena groans and rolls his eyes in faux annoyance.

“If that’s how you want to think of it, then yes.”

You snicker victoriously and it’s all he can do to not go over and (lovingly) flick your forehead as hard as he can.

“But what about money? A trip around the world is going to cost a fortune, right? Plus, there’s my small business I have to worry about. It’s my only means of income…”

Ena waves a hand at you. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll handle it. Focus on making sure everything’s in order for the house and your business.”

I’ve got more Mora than I know what to do with, thanks to my time in the Fatui.

He looks over his shoulder at you.

“I recommend you pack your bags as soon as possible. We leave when everything is done and ready.”

The first nation he takes you to is Mondstadt, the land of freedom. A warm breeze brushes your skin as you step foot into the city, carrying with it the scent of dandelion wine and the familiar feeling of well-wishes.

The city is so lively. Children and teenagers chase each other down the cobblestone streets. A crowd of people gathers around a small child selling flowers, the sweet fragrance of them making its way over to you. The colorful banners strung overhead between buildings flutter in the wind. A group of adventurers pass by you and give you bright grins.

“A pair of travelers, eh? Welcome to Mondstadt!”

A bard clad in green sings and plays his lyre to a captive audience by the fountain in the city square. The smell of freshly-cooked food from Good Hunter on your left tempts you and through the door, you can hear the clink of bottles being toasted and the cheers of rowdy but good-natured patrons.

You feel Ena tug on your sleeve. He’s grinning at you mischievously.

“Come on, slowpoke, we’re not stopping here. There’s more to see than just the city.”

The next few weeks pass by in a blur.

Soon after your arrival in Mondstadt, he takes you to the Thousand Winds Temple on the eastern coast of Mondstadt as the first stop. Stone arches tower above your head and you have to crane your neck upwards to see the end of the pillars that seem to stretch upward forever. The sheer size of the temple makes you feel almost insignificant, but ivy and fauna have slowly reclaimed it with overgrowth rampant everywhere. It’s nothing more than crumbling ruins at this point, but it must’ve been beautiful centuries ago.

… Still, you’re a little confused as to why he would bring you all the way out here just to see a dilapidated temple.

“Is there a specific reason why you brought us here?”

“Nothing really, other than that it has quite a long history.”

“I didn’t take you for the scholarly type, Ena.”

“Shut up.”

You begin to curiously explore the temple. Parts of it are locked behind gates and no matter what you do, you can’t get them to budge. You manage to climb over some walls onto what appears to be the stairs and take a seat there. From here, you have a better view of the temple and you try to piece together what it used to look like. Eventually, you come to the realization that it must’ve resembled an amphitheater.

Meanwhile, Ena strides across the arena and comes to a stop, facing the sea. His coming here was purely for selfish reasons.

This was where I first met you. I was on a mission in Mondstadt to investigate some strange occurrences that had been happening. Back then, you were still a student in the Akademiya researching these ruins. We had run into each other accidentally and immediately started arguing over some petty matter and were practically at each other’s throats.

He looks over his shoulder to see you attempting to scale a pillar to reach the elemental monument above and quietly laughs at the sight. He’s glad that you can’t see the fond smile stretching across his face.

You’re still the same fool now as you were back then. Some things in life never change, do they?

On another day, he brings you to Starsnatch Cliff late at night. You grumble and curse at him for disturbing your sleep the entire time, to which he tells you to shut up after being chased by monsters several times.

(You keep your mouth shut after that.)

Ena uses his Anemo vision to quickly fly to the edge of the cliff and avoid the grueling upwards hike. You, on the other hand, are forced to make the trek and arrive several minutes later, panting in exhaustion.

“You’re too slow.”

“Not my fault that I don’t have a handy vision to help me out,” you snap back as you take a seat next to him. The cool evening breeze tickles your skin and you lie on your back to see the stars and the moon. There’s not a single cloud in the sky and you can see the arm of the galaxy that stretches across the night sky in a twinkling display of stars and stardust.

“Now I see why you dragged me out this late. The view is beautiful.”

“I told you.”

You glare at him in response and begin picking the Cecilia flowers that grow on the cliff to make a flower crown with them. Ena only rolls his eyes at the action and lies down to look at the sky.

The second time I met you was here, not long after our first encounter. You were doing the same thing- making flower crowns. When I asked you what you were doing, you gave it to me. Quite the bold move, considering I could’ve ended your life at any moment. Although…

He looks back at you lying sprawled out like a starfish in the grass and holding the finished flower crown in your hands. Your eyes meet his gaze and you wordlessly place it on his head. You giggle at the sight and the blush that creeps across his face as he glares at it.

“It suits you! You look even prettier with it.”

Your eyes shine with a mix of amusement and adoration. To Ena, your smile rivals the brilliance of the moon above and he swears he can feel his heart skip a beat all over again.

Although, how could I have even considered that thought? Especially when you looked at me back then the same way you do now?

Midway through your stay in Mondstadt, he brings you to the famed Angel’s Share for some drinks while subsequently making fun of your inability to hold your alcohol.

“What, can’t even handle wine?”

“Shut up,” you cough out- or rather, slur out with the alcohol getting to you. A blue-haired man sitting at the other end of the table pretends to not hear you, but you can see his shoulders shaking as he tries to stifle his laughs.

With the sweet taste of the tavern’s renowned Dandelion Wine, you didn’t expect it to pack that much of a punch. Your face is already flushed and you can feel just how unbearably warm you are. With a groan, you rest your head against the cool surface of the table and sigh in relief. Ena rolls his eyes and finishes the rest of your drink in one go.

“Seriously, how are you still fine after all of those drinks you had? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have an inhuman alcohol tolerance,” you grumble.

A thin glass of apple cider is placed in front of you by the bartender. You instantly recognize it as a drink for sobering up and Ena cackles at the realization scrawled all over your face.

“Come on. Finish that and we’ll go back to our place.”

He ends up having to carry you on his back. You passed out while you were still in the bar and now you’re sleeping peacefully, occasionally mumbling nonsensical things as you dream. Ena grumbles and curses you out all the while, but it lacks any real scorn.

Many months later, I came back to Mondstadt and found you in a drunken stupor here. You had just dropped out of the Akademiya and were worried about what you’d do now and dreaded having to return to Sumeru. You had drunk so much that you passed out and I ended up having to carry you back to your place.

He looks back at your sleeping figure and sighs.

“The past likes to repeat itself, huh? And your alcohol tolerance hasn’t improved one bit since then.”

Really, it made for a comical sight. The Sixth Fatui Harbinger, capable of striking fear into the hearts of the masses, carrying an Akademiya dropout who’d cried and drank themselves to sleep back to their house like some sort of gentleman? Most people would laugh at that.

His hand grasps yours as he looks back on the past that only he remembers now.

Lost in thought, he misses how you gently squeeze his hand in return.

On the very last day of your stay in Mondstadt, Ena waits until sunset to drag you to the Church of Favonius. He carefully led you around the vigilant eyes of the Knights and passersby until you were at the back of the church. You weren’t expecting this to be your final stop and you stare at him, confused.

“Just trust me, ok?”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he scoops you up into his arms and soars into the air with the help of his vision.

“Wha-hey!” you shout as you nervously flail around. “What’re you doing?”

“Be quiet!” he hisses. “Do you want people to hear us?”

Ena quickly sets you down on a ledge atop a spire and you go silent. From here, you have a perfect view over all of Mondstadt, from the sprawling city before you all the way out to the great oak tree in Windrise and the Statue of the Seven shining beneath it, and everything in between. The skies are clear and Mondstadt is bathed in a rosy pink glow.

“Don’t fall off now,” he teases as you lean forward.

“How did you find this spot?” you ask. He looks off to the side as if embarrassed to admit the truth.

“I saw the Traveler and a girl in red up here one day. They seemed to be enjoying the view so I stowed the idea away for later.”

That was half the truth. Not like you’d remember the other half of it anyway.

You were awfully persistent back then, he thinks as he watches you sneeze when a cluster of dandelion seeds blow past, carried along by the winds. Hanging around with a Fatui Harbinger like it was nothing and having the gall to talk to me like we were equals. I seriously thought you had no sense of danger back then. Or maybe you just had a death wish.

One day, you had offhandedly told me that a view over all of Mondstadt could be seen atop the spires of the Church of Favonius. The look in your eyes implied that you wanted to see it for yourself. You thought it was a great idea. I thought you were insane.

But I managed to make it work after happening to see someone else do it. Late at night, we snuck up here together to go stargazing. We had a beautiful view that night. The sky was clear and all the stars were visible. But it wasn’t the sky or the stars that caught my attention- it was the look in your eyes.

For a moment, I saw everything I ever wanted reflected in them.

You swing your legs in contentment as a flock of birds flies past you. Ena eyes you nervously as you sit precariously close to the edge and reaches out to gently grasp your wrist.

“... Is something the matter?”

“You’re sitting too close to the ledge. Move back a bit.”

“Didn’t know you were such a mother hen.” But you do as he says.

You gaze upon him fondly and there it is again- the look that stole his heart. You looked at him as if he was your entire world. He would do anything to have you look at him like that for just a little while longer.

“(Name)?”

“Yes?”

“Can we stay like this just a little longer?”

“Of course.”

The sky begins to darken and the temperature starts to drop. The people of Mondstadt gradually head home one by one until the streets are deserted, but above it all, you and Ena are lost in your own world- one that only he now remembers.

The seasons have changed. Summer has faded and it’s colder now. The days are shorter, much to your displeasure. Almost all vegetation has died out- the tree branches are stripped bare of leaves and a light dusting of snow from earlier covers the ground. There’s a light crunching sound as you walk, leaving footprints behind.

You shiver as a cold breeze passes by and without missing a beat, Ena gives you his scarf. He wraps it around you and tightens it securely before tugging at your coat zipper to make sure it’s zipped up all the way. He nods in satisfaction.

“Keep it. You need it more.”

You pass by a Statue of the Seven and head down some ice-coated stone steps. The horizon is bright and as you look up from the ground, you see why. Liyue Harbor is aglow with warm orange lights and countless paper lanterns float in the air, scattered throughout the sky.

Ena looks over your shoulder at the glowing port.

“We’re in luck. We made it just in time for the Lantern Rite.”

You hear a smidge of smugness in his voice.

“In luck, you say? Something tells me you planned this,” you tease. Already, you can feel a rush of excitement bubbling up as you grab him by the wrist and pull him along with you toward the city.

“Who knows? Maybe I did.”

The entire harbor is decorated for Liyue’s biggest festival of the year. Red paper lanterns and bundles of firecrackers hang at the corners of businesses and houses alike. Spring couplets and squares of red paper with the character for “fortune” are pasted onto doors everywhere you look. A group of children runs past you waving sparklers to celebrate and the mother of one opens the door to call her child in for dinner.

A storyteller tells the tale of how the Lantern Rite came to be as you run through the stone streets. Aided by the folding screen behind him that depicts a panorama of Liyue in the past, his rich voice and reenactments of scenes captivate his starry-eyed audience that hangs onto every word. An amber-eyed man listens intently, a peaceful expression washing over his handsome face as if he is recalling pleasant memories of days gone by. The sweet scents of steamed rice, caramelized sugars and smoke, and various fragrant spices hit your nose as you pass by a restaurant across the street with a long line of people waiting to order outside. A girl with short blue hair runs out of the kitchen, carrying several plates of food to the establishment with the storyteller.

“Excuse me! Coming through!”

A small stall wedged in the space between the restaurant and another building harks its goods to passersby.

“Cheap and tasty chop suey! Special Lantern Rite deal- half off of everything!”

The path curves down from there, leading to the shipping and loading docks of the port. You go past that toward where everyone is gathered. You gasp and momentarily, you go speechless. It’s simply gorgeous. You have no other way to describe it.

Lotus-shaped lights illuminate the pathway and golden lanterns are strung about, bathing you and Ena in an orange glow. Parasols of every shape and color hang from the scaffolding above, casting shades of color across your faces. An old man off to the side adds some last-minute touches to the giant puppet head that will be used for tonight’s dragon dance. You catch a glimpse of it as you pass by and it is a true labor of love, painstakingly crafted down to the tiniest detail. The performers for said dance rehearse the complicated choreography to your left, running in circles and weaving in and out of each other to the point where your eyes hurt from watching. Stalls and vendors sell a variety of goods- street food, paper lanterns to release into the sky, firecrackers, decorations, toys for children, and flowers with auspicious meanings among many other things.

The heavy crowds and sounds of cheer and festivities make you almost forget about the chilling mid-winter cold. Ena disappears for a second and reappears with a bundle of flowers that he swiftly tucks behind your ear.

“Hmm? What flower is this?”

“They’re peach blossoms.”

You shoot a glance at the pale pink blossoms and smile as a thank-you before returning back to the celebration. He stifles a laugh upon your reaction. Clearly, you were unaware of the symbolism behind the flowers.

Peach blossoms symbolize romance. It’s often gifted by young people, as they believe it will bring romantic luck.

(He mentally thanks Nahida for forcing him to go to school. Some of the stuff he learned there was actually helping him.)

To your right, two girls perform on an illuminated stage, one singing while the other plays the guitar to the thunderous applause of the audience. You sneak past the crowd to admire the Mingxiao lantern the size of a parade float that towers above everyone behind the stage. It depicts a gold and red goose (an Adeptus?) taking to the skies, with the jagged peaks of Liyue in blue behind it. A yellow whole moon partially hides behind the tallest one and wisps of fog obscure the ground and lazily wind around the mountaintops.

The energy of the crowd has been palpable ever since you got here, but it increases now as you look toward where everyone else’s gaze is directed at- the sky.

“Hurry, it’s about to start!”

“Over here, over here! I saved this spot before anyone else could get it!”

Mere moments later, a loud boom goes off and an orange firework explodes in the sky. Then another one. And another one. The fireworks show has started and while they are beautiful, you’re having a difficult time enjoying it while everyone else is jostling for a view. Unfortunately, that means you can’t see much of anything either…

You feel a sharp tug at your wrist and look back to see Ena trying to squeeze his way through the crowd without losing his hat and being crushed alive.

“I know of a spot. Follow me!”

With much difficulty and after almost getting your ribs crushed, you break free of the crowd. Ena hoists you onto his shoulders and speeds through the now-empty streets with the help of his vision, carefully avoiding the Millileth stationed.

“You seem to be enjoying this position,” you offhandedly comment as he squeezes your thighs.

“It’s one of the only ways I can get your lazy ass places,” he says, like the liar he is.

(He secretly just likes the feeling of your thighs around his neck.)

He comes to a stop atop a building on the outskirts of the city and from here, you have a perfect view of the fireworks. Some whirl into a spiral while others slowly shoot straight up as they explode in a glittering multicolored shower. Some fireworks tumble like a waterfall and others pepper the sky in rapid flashes of light that have you seeing stars afterward.

“Isn’t what we’re doing right now technically illegal?” you ask while still keeping your eyes on the firework display. He laughs and you can practically imagine him rolling his eyes.

“Would you rather be here or before where we were practically suffocating to death?”

You laugh as well with a smile on your face. Ena squeezes your hand in his (when did that get there?) while he pulls something out. You look away from the show to see him place a red and gold metal canister between you two. It’s rather similar to the fireworks launchers you saw in the city…

“Ena, don’t tell me you-”

“What, it’s not like they’re going to notice one gone! They’ve got a bunch to spare anyway.”

He motions for you to move away from the canister and pulls out a bamboo tube with a conical cap mounted to a stick. He strikes a match and after lighting the fuse, sticks it into the mortar and moves away. You both cover your ears and after a few seconds, it shoots out with a high-pitched whistling sound before exploding in a golden display that resembles the branches of a weeping willow tree.

“Did you steal the fireworks too?” you ask with a wide grin on your face. He scowls at the question and begins to prepare another one for launch.

“No. I bought them,” he grumbles. The next firework exits the mortar and explodes in the sky. It resembles a white chrysanthemum.

You’ve all but forgotten about the official show as you take turns launching fireworks and creating your own (illegal) display. The official show may be more flashy, but yours has a magic of its own that can’t be recreated.

“Aw, how cute! This firework is shaped like a heart!” you exclaim as you watch it scatter in a shower of pink sparkles. The amount of fireworks being launched from the harbor suddenly increases and you realize it must be the grand finale already.

Ena pulls something out again. Two Mingxiao lanterns. He passes one to you along with a brush and some ink.

“The people of Liyue have a tradition of writing riddles on lanterns during the Lantern Rite,” he explains upon seeing your confusion. “Write whatever you’d like- it doesn’t have to be a riddle- and once the fireworks are over, we’ll release them into the sky, ok?”

He watches you frown and mull over what you want to write, face scrunching up into various expressions of contemplation and hesitation. He internally laughs at the sight before returning to his lantern, brush gliding over the paper with confidence.

I wish for (Name) to accept me for who I am.

And as the last of the fireworks explode in the sky, you and Ena release your lanterns in unison, soaring into the sky and joining the lanterns of everyone else. You lean against his shoulder (when did the distance between you two get so close?) and gaze at your lanterns drifting away.

“What did you wish for?” you ask.

“It’s a secret. I’m not telling you.”

“Fine. I’m not telling you mine either.”

You silently laugh to yourself. You had gotten a glimpse of what he was writing and while it may have been written in the old Inazuman script (most likely to confuse your prying eyes), you were still a former Akademiya student and you still had a decent knowledge of languages. The Inazuman language was one you were proficient in before you dropped out and you could get the general idea of his wish written onto the lantern.

How cute.

And as for what you wrote?

Ena couldn’t help but peek when you were writing. With the light of the fireworks, he had seen what you were written and a long-forgotten emotion erupted in his newly-acquired heart.

I wish for Ena to receive the love he deserves.

The last nation he takes you to is Inazuma.

You had spent a few months in Liyue until the weather warmed up, discovering everything the nation had to offer. You had ventured into the Adepti’s abode in Jueyun Karst, visited the famed turquoise waters of Luhua Pool, and explored the countless ancient ruins scattered throughout the land. At one point, with a letter from the Traveler and special clearance from the Millelith, he takes you to the Chasm. There, you had carefully crossed the creaky wooden walkways with high winds whipping you around and had scaled the high peaks covered with ochre grass and trees with crimson-colored leaves. The gaping maw in the center leading to the Underground Mines had tempted you and there you had stayed for a while, staring down into it.

(He contemplated bringing you there because it had a beauty of its own, but ultimately decided against it due to how dangerous it was.)

Now docked at Ritou Harbor after a long passage across the sea, Ena watches as the sleep disappears from your eyes, only to be replaced by wonder as you take in the silent harbor that is beginning to stir. Ships are anchored along the pier and unloaded. The fishermen are coming back as the sun rises above the horizon and are laying out their catch to sell. Purple banners planted along the boardwalk that are emblazoned with the Electro mitsudomoe proudly signify the reign of the Shogun. Maple trees dot the landscape and Mt. Yougou towers above in the distance with a faint green light emanating from it.

Ena’s eyes narrow and he bites his lip at the familiar sights. Returning to his homeland left him feeling conflicted and while nobody would remember him- namely, the Shogun- unpleasant memories still resurfaced. His abandonment, the place he once called home, and especially now, the regret and rage that fills him as he recalls those he considered family and Dottore who twisted the truth into a lie, ruining his life.

But he casts his thoughts aside. His past no longer defined who he was, especially at this moment. Besides, this was your first time in Inazuma. What kind of tour guide would he be if he couldn’t cast his own prejudices aside?

Long ago, when he was still in the Fatui, you had asked him about his origins.

“Scara, you’re from Inazuma, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I’ve always wanted to visit the nation. Can you take me there someday?”

“Once the situation there clears up, sure.”

He was never able to fulfill that promise with his previous self. Now, he could finally be true to his word, even if you could no longer remember.

Narukami Island dazzles you with its splendor and tradition everywhere you look. Sakura blooms drift along the warm spring breezes in Inazuma City as you pass by stores selling elaborate kimonos and blacksmiths continuing the art of forging that had been passed down for centuries. Ena proves himself to be quite the knowledgeable tour guide, pointing out cultural relics and small facts that you wouldn’t have known otherwise.

Early on in your stay, Ena pays a visit to the Statue of the Omnipresent God near Tenshukaku. He just… stands there. And gazes up at it. In the short time there, a lifetime of emotions crossed his face. Betrayal, wrath, denial, emptiness, regret, and even acceptance.

(You notice that the statue doesn’t look like the Electro Archon at all. What could it possibly be here for then?)

“Let’s go.”

With a light tug at your wrist and a final glance back at Tenshukaku, he leads you ahead without another look back.

The main attraction aside from the city is the Grand Narukami Shrine. From what you’ve heard, the trek there is long and arduous but worth it for its beauty and view over Inazuma. Ena leads you there through Chinju Forest which takes you onto the shortest route. The forest is tranquil and you hear the sound of running water from the large stream cutting through the forest. Blue flowers glow underneath the moonlight in large clumps and tanuki statues are found everywhere. Red torii gates are scattered throughout and mark pathways.

While the forest is beautiful, it’s also a little eerie. The lack of light and silence creeps you out and Ena has the brilliant idea to tell you ghost stories here, of all places.

“There’s a legend of a yokai that lurks in the forest around here,” he begins. “Care to hear the tale?”

You swat at his arm to silence him. He dodges your hand quickly and smiles impishly at you.

“What? Scared already?”

“Shut up.”

You leave the forest, refusing to speak to Ena and ignoring all of his purposeful attempts to rile you up. A blue-haired girl and her brother stand at the entrance to the lavish estate to your right. She pulls out her folding fan, covering the smile on her face at your petty arguments.

The path leading to the shrine is an arduous trek and not to mention slippery, as it had rained the day before. He has to help you up in some parts where there are no stairs, lest you slip and fall. The steps are steep and the path winding around the mountain seems never-ending. After much grumbling and pleading on your part, Ena finally agrees to carry you on his back.

“Thank you…”

“Stop being lazy,” he retorts. You rest your cheek against his shoulder and he immediately goes silent. Your hand brushes against his and in an uncharacteristically bold move, Ena grasps it and squeezes lightly. A light giggle escapes you. His hand is delicate and soft against yours, much like a doll’s.

At that moment, he’s glad you can’t see the blush dusting his cheeks.

But the rumors were right- the view is indeed gorgeous from here. Ena stops at one point and you peer over his shoulder to see the landscape of Inazuma. Jagged boulders float in midair with sakura trees planted for decoration and lanterns to aid shrine-goers in the dead of night. The vast blue sea that seals off Inazuma from the rest of the world stretches as far as the eye can see with several smaller islands and shipwrecks dotting the landscape. Chōchin lanterns hang from the branches of trees, swaying lightly in the wind and scattering sakura petals. Some red foxes are resting at the bottom of the stairs and come up to cautiously sniff at Ena. He leans down to pet them for a bit, allowing you to do the same, before continuing.

As you ascend the stairs winding around the mountain, you pass through countless torii gates with red tōrō lanterns and shoji lamps decorated with the symbol of the shrine flanking your sides and realize the shrine must be just up ahead. And indeed, that hypothesis proves to be true as Ena finishes climbing the last set of stairs and stops in front of the shrine. He takes his hat off and you hop off his back.

The shrine is awe-inspiring. It’s larger than you thought it’d be and built from red lacquered wood with chōchin lanterns hanging from the eaves of the roof. Two thick shimenawa ropes with shide papers attached to them stretch across the entrance and the small body of water the shrine is built upon reflects the early morning sky above. Sessha shrines line the outskirts with various offerings and resemble miniature versions of the Grand Narukami Shrine.

As you take in the sights of the shrine and the view of Inazuma from above, Ena looks around cautiously, hoping that a certain meddling pink kitsune wouldn’t show up.

What a nuisance that’d be, he thinks as he squints against the sun’s rays. He quickly picks up on your confusion as you look around, unsure of what to do.

“Relax,” he says, taking your hand in his. “I’ll guide you through the whole process.”

Ena leads you through everything, from purification to burning incense. At that stage, he had asked you if you had any injuries. You had looked at him strangely and he explained that some people fan the smoke toward themselves for healing purposes.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” you said. “But I’m fine, so there’s no need to.”

You miss how he fans the smoke toward his heart when you turn away. He stares at his Anemo vision for a split second before returning to your side.

You’re staring at the large bell attached to a bundle of multicolored cords hanging from the ceiling. He steps forward and shakes it, making the bell chime loudly. You watch closely as he drops some Mora into the offertory box before bowing twice, clapping twice, and then standing straight with his hands joined in a prayer position. You then do the same, albeit with less confidence.

“Hey,” you whisper. He peeks an eye open. “What do I pray for?”

“Anything,” he whispers back. “Good health, fortune, success at school-”

You roll your eyes.

“- or even luck in romantic relationships.”

You look off to the side at that one, hoping he doesn’t see how the tips of your ears are flushed.

Ena closes his eyes again and thinks for a bit about what else to pray for. He had already wished for acceptance from you during the Lantern Rite. Just now, he had prayed for your health and the safety of Sumeru, along with wishes of well-being for Lesser Lord Kusanali. What else was there?

(He had contemplated praying for Dottore’s downfall but ultimately decided that wouldn’t be appropriate within a shrine setting.)

Pray for (Name) to fall in love with you again, says the voice in his head. You did tell them that praying for romantic luck was common among shrine-goers, so why not do that yourself?

Ah.

Ena feels his face heat up and his heart starts pounding rapidly. With a light shake of his head, he clears his mind.

I wish for (Name) to fall in love with me again. I have already lost Niwa, Katsuragi, the rest of my family in Tatarasuna, and the fledgling child who was just like me long ago. After wandering across the world for several centuries, I long for a place to call home now.

Archons above, I am a changed man now. Please, allow me to have the simple joys of love and solace.

Your trip is nearing its end. The days are much longer now and the weather considerably, almost unbearably at times, warmer.

Now in the last leg of your journey, Ena gazes out at the sea aboard the boat carrying him to your last destination, Kannazuka Island. The last time he went back to Inazuma was during the Vision Hunt Decree to retrieve the Electro Gnosis and that was on orders from the Tsaritsa, plus that was restricted to Narukami Island only. Ever since the disaster that had befallen Tatarasuna, he hadn’t gone back out of fear and shame.

And that is who he really is. A man who was ashamed of his past and afraid of witnessing the consequences of his actions. Ignorance is bliss, yet that belief was unable to prevent the shield of scorn and egotism he had built up for himself from crumbling down in an instant in Sumeru, the cracks that had been forming for a long time now exposed and the truth finally revealed.

How pathetic, mocks the voice in his head that never seems to go away- perhaps the only remnant of his former self. Look at who you’ve become. How weak. What a disappointment. Such activities are beneath you, yet why do you indulge them with your divine presence?

Shut it, he thinks. Enough of you. My roots may be divine, but they have no influence on who I am today. I am a different person now, whether you like it or not.

Ena looks around him and sighs. He had sworn to never return to this nation that he harbored only bitterness and bad memories toward. He had cursed the Archon’s name and denounced her reign, laughed at her frivolous pursuit of eternity, yet here he was once again.

The prodigal son had finally made a return home.

Love really makes people weak, doesn’t it?

The boat gently comes to a stop against the shoreline of Nazuchi Beach. Rotting shipwrecks and driftwood litter the white sands and warm shallow waters. Faded and frayed war banners lie half-buried in the sand with arrowheads embedded everywhere you look- the only remains of the several bloody wars that were waged here.

You hop off the boat, eager to explore what lies ahead, while Ena lingers for a bit to gather his thoughts. Already, he can see the familiar silhouette of the furnace and its purple glow in the distance. An unfamiliar feeling of dread settles in his stomach, twisting and turning anxiously. But dallying and wasting time will not change the outcome of anything.

And so with bated breath, he leads the way. Passing through the entrance that leads to Tatarasuna, the full scale of the site becomes apparent. In the middle, a floating rock formation hovers above the water and is linked to the rest of the island via walkways that are now rotting and falling apart. A strange purple glow radiates from the center. The houses built have long since been abandoned, their windows dark and empty. Hovering above it all is the Mikage Furnace. Although it was shut down a long time ago, small sparks of Electro are still intermittently emitted from it.

The ancient machinery quietly creaks in the wind. The air feels electric with the heavy concentration of Electro energy present, making his hair stand on end. Carts filled with iron ore lie off to the side, looking as if they were haphazardly abandoned. He can’t help but feel a little remorseful at the sorry state the place is in now.

There is one last task for him to finish here- one that he should have completed long ago.

Better late than never, he thinks as he rummages around for a sword of some sort that may have been miraculously left behind. Most of what was here has been pillaged by the Fatui; he recognizes their handiwork- sloppy and inconsiderate, but by a stroke of luck, he finds one.

Meanwhile, you investigate what’s nearby. Soon into your investigation, you find some yellowed notes scattered about. The age of the notes has made the words rather difficult to decipher and the elements have worn away much of the original content.

… We at last made a single nagamaki. We call it the Daitatara Nagamasa. The Inspector was in high spirits, and he and the Vice Armory Officer… Nozomu was so taken by the beauty of the Daitatara Nagamasa that he drew a picture of it.

The Inspector flew into a rage and slashed Katsuragi. The great blade cut deep into the flesh… cast his own nagamaki into the furnace’s flame… Nozomu could not abide by that order, and drew the completely melted weapon out of the furnace… He was horribly burned.

… Nozomu died that night. I daresay that while Sir Katsuragi may have committed malfeasance, it was out of the goodness of his heart.

“(Name), can you go pick some flowers for me?”

His question comes suddenly and unexpectedly. You look up from the notes you are reading. He holds a rusted sword in his hand and gives it a few experimental swings. You soundlessly nod and disappear.

There are some old polishing stones lying beneath a table and he gets to work. It’s the first time he’s touched a blade in 500 years, yet in his mind, he’s transported back to the moment he learned how to forge and polish swords under the watch of Niwa and the others. Their gentle guidance from ages ago resurfaces, guiding him through the sacred process. Bit by bit, the rust is scrubbed away and its original sheen is restored. It is difficult work, but it’s cathartic. It feels like he’s making amends for his past actions.

After wiping away the last few drops of water, the sword is now finished. It shines brilliantly without a speck of rust showing. The handguard and hilt have been cleaned thoroughly and it looks as good as new.

Ena walks over to a grassy spot near the water and digs a small hole, where he places a few items before covering it up again. Some small candies, cigarettes, six coins for safe passage to the afterlife, a white kimono, and a pair of sandals.

He drives the sword into the soft earth. He tugs it a few times to ensure it won’t budge before pulling out some sticks of incense and lighting them. The woody smell with hints of spice and resin is carried through the air.

On your way back now, you smell something spicy and familiar drifting from the direction of the furnace.

Incense?

“I’m back now,” you call out. “What did you need these-”

The lit incense sticks, the sword stuck in the ground, his head bowed. The realization hits you instantly.

So this is why he asked me to gather flowers. It’s a memorial- a grave.

Dendrobiums, stalks of Naku Weed, Sea Ganodermas you had harvested in the shallow beach waters, and deposits of Crystal Marrow are arranged around the symbolic tomb in the best flower arrangement your limited skills could make.

“Thank you,” he whispers as you kneel next to him.

“Who is it for?”

“Everyone,” he says, gesturing around him. “It’s for everyone who was here.”

Ena looks up from the ground and for a second, he thinks he’s gone back in time. The sun shines, bathing the abandoned mine in golden light. The fires in the furnace are stoked and plumes of smoke drift out of the tall chimney. Katsuragi smelts the red-hot steel in the tatara while Niwa hammers and folds the cooling metal. The residents of Tatarasuna, people from all walks of life, children and elders alike, live their lives with joy and pride.

Ah, it’s been so long since he’s last seen them, yet he can still remember their faces clearly as if he never left.

One of them- a child- sees him out of the corner of his eye. He says something- no words can be heard but Ena reads his lips.

Look, Kabukimono is back!

One by one, the rest of the residents take notice of him. They each bear varied expressions on their faces weathered by hard work- some cover their mouths with their eyes blown wide in surprise, others heave a deep sigh of relief with smiles stretching across their faces, while others have tears of joy prickling at the corners of their eyes.

Archons, it’s been so long since I’ve last seen him.

Tell us what you’ve been up to lately! I’m sure you have many stories to share.

My, look at how handsome he is now!

The ward we took in has now finally grown up.

It makes me so proud to see him like this.

There’s a tight feeling in his chest as he stumbles forward toward the sea of familiar faces, beckoning him with warm smiles and welcoming arms. He lurches forward again, and three pairs of warm hands as fleeting as a feather lightly brush over his shoulder, steadying him. Looking up, he sees the familiar faces of Niwa, Katsuragi, and Nagamasa. They beam at him, not a hint of betrayal or anger present in their smiles.

Ena’s heart seizes up in his chest. What does he say in a situation like this?

Did you find your heart at last?

“... Yes,” he finally answers.

“It was here all along.”

We’ve missed you.

Crying is for the weak. It is a useless display of emotions. That is what he has told himself repeatedly throughout his life.

And yet, he can’t help the tears that threaten to spill over.

He rushes forward, longing for one last chance to make amends. They surround him in a warm embrace, murmuring words of reassurance as the tears finally spill over.

“I’m sorry!” he chokes out. “I should have been there! I shouldn’t have run away!”

A strong gust of wind blows through the clearing and the ghosts of Tatarasuna waver, their images beginning to fade and dissipate in specks of golden light.

His blood runs cold in terror.

No, not yet! There’s still so much I want to say- so much I want to apologize for!

The sound of gentle laughter is carried along with the wind and as the last of their shimmering visages fade away, he hears their final words.

What do you mean, Kabukimono?

We forgave you long ago.

It was never your fault to begin with.

You are our pride and joy.

This is goodbye now. But we, the residents of Tatarasuna you considered family, will always be with you.

We can now move on safely to the afterlife.

We can now rest after seeing our little Kabukimono at peace with himself.

Thank you for returning home one last time.

The last of their afterimages vanish, leaving nothing behind. The sun retreats behind the clouds once more, the clearing now cloudy as it was before. But at last, Ena feels at peace- as if a great burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders. The unfinished task from centuries ago had finally been completed.

“Let’s go home now, (Name).”

Ena has been acting strange lately.

On the way back, he kept pacing back and forth. He had kept toying with his Anemo vision and staring at the sky. When he thought you were asleep, he would hold you tightly in his arms as if he was afraid to lose you. You would catch him with his hands clasped together and praying when he thought you weren’t looking.

But praying to who exactly?

At last, you are at home in Sumeru again. It is late at night now, and the streets are silent. Most of the residents are asleep except for a few late-night stragglers coming home from work or the tavern. That night, you fell into a deep sleep and for the first time ever since you were a child, you dreamt.

But much to your surprise, you see Ena and Lesser Lord Kusanali in your dream soon after falling asleep. This feels vaguely familiar and something tells you this was done on purpose.

“Welcome back,” she says. “How was your trip?”

“Fine. I enjoyed it,” he responds.

She giggles. “That’s good to hear. I take it that your goal is complete and that you got to tie up some loose ends?”

“You could say that.”

The little Archon turns her attention to you now. Her eyes peer at you curiously and you get the vague feeling that she can read your mind.

“You must be (Name). You’re a smart cookie- smarter than people give you credit for. I’m sure you’ve wondered what you and Ena are to each other at least once by now.”

“There’s been a few hints dropped here and there throughout our journey that made me question the nature of our relationship or who we once were,” you admit.

“But I can’t help but wonder what happened to… ”

You gesture at the space between you and Ena.

“... Us?”

A translucent green box materializes between her hands. It glows and floats, emitting specks of Dendro energy intermittently.

“Please suspend disbelief for a moment, as what I’m about to say may sound unrealistic. This box you see here is a copy of his memories from his creation up until recently. It contains the true, unaltered version of history.”

Creation? Copy of his memories? The unaltered version of history?

A thousand questions swirl inside your mind, waiting to be asked, yet they all dissipate at her next question.

“Do you wish to remember the past?”

You hesitantly look at Ena. He turns away as if he is ashamed of meeting your gaze.

“This decision is all up to you,” she adds. “Rest assured that whatever you choose will not affect your relationship with Ena. He has told me that himself.

“But please bear in mind that in his past life, Ena was what many would consider as ‘evil’. He had committed countless crimes and many people had died because of him. With this preface, do you still wish to remember the past?”

You glance at Ena again, who is still avoiding your gaze. The delicate balance of your relationship hangs on the line. Was it even worth knowing the truth? You were perfectly content with the way things were as of now.

… But the voice in the back of your head urges you to dig deeper and uncover the truth.

“I still do. Please, show me everything.”

Ena winces slightly, bracing himself for the worst.

“Very well then.”

The green box slowly drifts toward you before suddenly slamming into your chest. You let out a choked gasp, your vision slowly going dark as all his memories begin to flood your mind. The last thing you hear is Ena’s concerned question.

“Will they be alright?”

“It’s the same as when you regained your memories,” replies Lesser Lord Kusanali. “They’ll be in for a shock but will ultimately emerge with a newfound understanding of who you are.”

“Set him free?”

“A puppet? What’s he doing here…”

“You’re a human as far as I’m concerned.”

“What a fine blade! Nagamasa will be thrilled.”

“He took it straight from the chest of one of his innocent servants.”

“What a joke… it’s just ashes… nothing left but ashes.”

“Are you deaf or just stupid?”

“Hey!”

That’s the sound of your own voice. In the midst of his memory space, you freeze. The version of yourself you see is one from several years ago, back when you were still in the Akademiya. The sight of the green uniform and beret sends a wave of nostalgia through your heart. Ena resembles the version of himself you saw in the photo at your house- dressed in shades of dark purple and black with accents of red and gold.

“What did you want to tell me? You dragged me out here late at night so it better be worth-”

“I hate you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hate you,” he repeated. “Everything about you annoys me greatly. You can’t handle your alcohol, yet you still insist on having drinks every week. I can’t tell if you’re idiotic or-”

“It’s Mondstadt, what else am I supposed to do here? And why is it that you carry me home on your back each time without fail?”

“Because you’d look pretty pathetic otherwise. I’d get secondhand embarrassment if I didn’t do something about it.”

You rolled your eyes at his remarks.

“Your taste in music sucks and you always have the strangest ideas. Seriously, where do you even come up with-”

“If you think they’re so strange, then why did you agree to dance with me in the town square yesterday? Entertain my silly idea of participating in the festival that was happening last week even though, in your opinion, you thought it was ‘stupid and a waste of time?’ Although, it looked like you were having fun as well…”

“...That’s beside the point. You also talk too much. It hurts my ears just listening to you sometimes.”

“Is that why you were glaring at the guy I was chatting with the other day?”

“No- I mean, yes.”

The look on your face tells him you don’t believe his blatant lie one bit.

“I can’t think properly when you’re around me,” he snapped in an attempt to change the subject. “You make me feel strange and I hate it. Whenever your eyes linger on me, I feel strangely exposed. When you touch me, my skin burns and I can’t breathe for some strange reason. You wear your heart on your sleeve but you’re also difficult to understand. I can’t figure you out for the life of me. You cry and laugh when you’re mad, but when you’re actually upset, you hide your tears and go silent. You’re a walking contradiction, which makes me even more confused as to why I feel this- hey, why are you laughing?”

He glared at your figure shaking with laughter and a clear expression of understanding written all over your face.

“Nothing, it’s just… I think we both know why you’re feeling this way, Scara,” you whispered as you leaned in to cup his cheek. He shied away from your touch but still accepted it.

“Don’t make me say it,” he grumbled quietly. “It’s embarrassing.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand cradling his cheek.

“But it’s the truth, is it not? In that case, what is there to be embarrassed about?”

“But…”

You’re so close to him that he could feel the soft exhale of your breath tickle his cheek. He looked away, avoiding eye contact with you, but he could still feel your burning gaze of adoration on his skin.

“Say it,” you breathed. “I want to hear you say those three words, Scara.”

“... You are the one I hold dearest to my heart,” he finally whispered. “You are my first and only love.”

The gap between you closes. He saw the moonlight reflected in your irises clearly and your eyes glimmering with hope, heard the way your breath hitched in anticipation. As his lips brushed against yours, he finally whispered those three words you’d been longing to hear.

“I love you.”

With a start, you are brought back to reality. Lesser Lord Kusanali and Ena watch you with concern in their eyes.

“Welcome back,” begins the former. “How do you feel with this newfound information?”

“A little overwhelmed,” you admit. “But everything makes much more sense now.”

You turn your attention toward Ena, who eyes you warily much like a stray cat would.

“Well then? What is your verdict?” he snaps harshly. “Going to abandon me the same way my mothe- my creator did?”

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

You mull over your words momentarily, wondering where even to begin.

“What do you do with a broken doll?” you finally ask. Ena looks at you strangely, like he wasn’t expecting you to open with that starter of all possible options.

“Do you fill in the cracks with gold to embrace its flaws? Paint over it to hide the defects underneath? Give it a newer and stronger shell? Or perhaps discard it entirely in favor of a new one? From what I saw, you’ve cycled through all those options haven’t you, Ena?”

He looks away.

“Like the Inazuman art of kintsugi, you tried to embrace your defects when you were still known as Kabukimono. Despite being considered flawed, you still attempted to show how beautiful and strong you could be. During your time in the Fatui when you were known as the Balladeer, you hid that part of yourself underneath a veil of arrogance, hating how weak you were despite said weakness being something your first self saw as a sign of strength more than anything. As the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom or Shouki no Kami, the Prodigal, you quite literally gave yourself a stronger shell in your attempt to ascend to godhood. But despite the grandness of it all, it was nothing more than a cheap veneer on the same self-loathing that brought everything crashing down when you were so close to everything you had ever hoped for.”

You reach your hands out and intertwine them with his.

“In such cases where all other options have failed, starting over is the best decision. The neglect and decay that have accumulated over several hundred years will be purged and a new healthy base made from only the purest of white wood will be used.”

You squeeze his hands lightly.

“Sometimes, you have to let those parts of yourself go. Otherwise, you will never obtain happiness. By discarding who you once were, you’ve healed and learned how to atone for your actions.

“You’ve changed for the better, Ena. The metaphorical blood on your hands has been washed clean. So then why should I abandon you? For abandoning you who I once loved, still love, and will continue to love means invalidating all your past struggles and how much you’ve changed. What kind of lover would I be if I did that?”

Lesser Lord Kusanali claps and smiles.

“That was a good use of metaphors, (Name). I liked it!”

Ena lets out a long sigh of relief and tips his head back. He hadn’t cried ever since his creation 500 years ago but now, he was filled with the overwhelming urge to cry. There’s a burning sensation at the back of his eyes and he fights the urge to release everything he had been holding back.

Is this what people called tears of joy?

“Thank you, (Name).”

What once was has now been rediscovered, no longer consigned to a thing of the past. That which he had longed for was now finally in his arms. Ena closes his eyes and pulls you into a hug. It’s a wonderful feeling- forgiveness and love.

Maybe, just maybe, he can now finally be at peace with himself.

[whoahoney]

Based off this lovely thought that got deleted bc my dumbass posted the draft instead of saving it 🥲 anon, I hope this finds you!!! Please tell me if it did 😭💖 this could’ve been a mini series I think but I’m too lazy to spread it out!

Anyway, here’s my rambling imaginings 💖

Warnings: fem!reader, quite a bit of angst, a lot more fluff, some wine drinking and allusions to spice.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hate to say it, but you’d been dreading this.

The news had been exciting when they found out about the tour. You, too, felt that exhilarating burst of energy hum through the room as the tour manager began the breakdown of the cities they’d see and the venues they’d play.

You’d hardly heard the shouts of joy around you, but you did see Jake’s face. His eyes so wide and bright, his smile stretched so taught across his mouth, his cheeks must’ve ached. You’d never seen him so happy as he threw his arms around Josh, clapping him on the back. Sam and Danny bounced over, already deep in eager conversation about Milan and France.

It was everything they’d been dreaming of.

Everything Jake had been dreaming of.

The four of them were a tight clump, muffled chuckles and words were exchanged as their parents joined in their embrace with pride and tears. Your heart swelled at the sight, being able to be here for it, to watch them celebrate, to see their dreams come true before their very eyes.

A world tour.

They’d just finished their last one, barely even unpacked. And now he’d be gone again.

Your stomach sank heavily, like a rock into quick sand, guilt churning deep within you; how could you be so damn selfish? This is everything he’s ever wanted and you’re thinking about yourself, again.

You keep the smile on your face, your hands knotted in your lap until Karen turned to you, eyes rimmed in red as she wiped at them, “Oh, honey, get on up in here—what are you doin way over there!” She chuckled as you blushed and made your way over to the unwinding arms, the layers of bodies falling away as Jake let go of Josh and looked to you.

One side of his smile hiked up, and you could see he’d clearly shed a few tears of his own as he wiped a fresh track away and passed it off as tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You don’t hesitate to reach for him, chuckling softly when he yanks you into his chest and wraps you up tight.

You breathe him in, and swallow a hiccup—his neck a heady mixture of his warmth, sandalwood, and something deep and spicy that always cut through you. Tonight you clung to it like a safety blanket, thinking of the nights you spent in his bed without him, nose buried in his pillow as you tried not to cry like a lovesick fool.

“It’s really happening.” He whispers against your hair, running a tender hand down the back of your head.

You nod, “Better believe it, rockstar. You deserve every bit of it.” You squeeze him a little tighter before pulling back, already feeling the swell of emotions brewing within you.

For the rest of the visit with the managers and family, you sat quietly next to Jake, his arm slung around you holding you close, his other hand on your knee. He noted how tightly your legs were crossed and how you picked at your nails unflinchingly, not much to be heard from you.

Jake knew he didn’t need words from you to know you were okay, but every bit of his intuition told him something was up. He’d worried about leaving you alone so much. About how tiresome it must have gotten to be in a relationship over the phone for the last 8 months. Even missing your first anniversary while he was in Chicago.

He wondered if maybe your feelings were fading, that maybe he’d thought wrong about claiming all life had to offer him—that he couldn’t have both love and fame no matter how many times he convinced himself that maybe it’d work with the right person, and he was well passed sure that he’d found that person in you.

“—But until then, you guys are free. So use these next couple months to your advantage!” Aaron clapped and rubbed his hands together, eager for the next time they would hit the ground running.

Jake shoots you a familiar glance, his eyes asking, ‘are you ready to go?’

You nod and stand with him, bidding the family a good night before you were in Jake’s car headed back to his house.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The ride was quiet, almost tense. Jake thought maybe you were biding your time, wanting to be careful with your words and say the right thing as you always did. His chest tensed and he turned up the radio, so maybe the pressure to say something wouldn’t be so bad.

You were thankful for the Jefferson Airplane coming through the speakers, Today lulling you into a hazy calm as you stared out the window at the dark tree line. Jake snuck a glance at you every once in a while, trying to figure you out in a way he never had to before.

When you reach the long driveway and park, he turns to you expectantly. Your eyes dart away from his, scanning the car for anything else to look at besides his pretty face that made you wanna crumple like old paper.

“What?” You ask barely over a whisper.

“That’s what I’m wondering, myself.” He says casually, running his index finger down your cheek. “Talk to me.” He says softly.

You swallow and shake your head insistently, “Nothing, babe, I’m just tired. S’been an exciting day.” You chuckle and meet his eye with a soft smile that told him you were okay. You kissed his palm that now cradled your cheek before he could ask anymore questions. “That’s all.” You assure.

Jake nods and swipes his thumb across your cheek one more time before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours chastely—once, twice, three times, before pulling back and appraising you.

“Let’s get inside.” He whispered, suggesting a hot shower as you open your door and comically rush ahead of him just to hear his boisterous laughter.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It hadn’t been long since Jake had fallen asleep, his hair still damp from when you washed it for him, bergamot and rosemary shampoo the two of you shared lingered in the air around you. The light of the moon kissed his nose, his blanket tucked up over his shoulder. He was always beautiful, but when he slept he looked prettier than a Grecian bust.

You couldn’t sleep no matter how tired you got, and staring at the object of both your affection and agony wasn’t helping. You snuck out of bed, pulling on the cozy robe he’d gotten you the first night you stayed with him, and made off to the living room with your phone.

You’d become quite familiar with the space despite not getting to share much time with Jake in it. He’d asked you to take care of the plants and his cat, Percy, reminding you to send him pictures and updates whenever you were over there.

Really, he just wanted to see you in his house like it was your own. When you sent him snapchats looking all cute and sleepy in his bed, it did more for him than he thought possible. He’d told you to sleep on his side so that when he got home his sheets would smell like you, and you had no objections to his request.

Since the start of Dreams in Gold, you’d practically lived here, waiting for him to come home.

Your steps were light and slow as you crept down the hall, the quiet chatter of the forgotten TV was directed around a beautiful Asian dish being made on the screen. A single lamp was lit and the orange glow filled the room and part of the kitchen.

You spy your AirPods on the island and plop down in a chair at the counter, another soft light just barely illuminating the kitchen, emanating beauty and nocturnal comfort.

You tuck an earbud into your ear and open your music, trying to piece together the genre that would make the ache go away, nothing too slow or sad, nothing too loud— and then it hit you with a small smile.

You search up the 50s Greats playlist and hit shuffle, sighing in content when the sound of Unchained Melody began. Your mind went peacefully blank, and you laid your head on top of your folded arms.

And then you spotted the wine fridge.

The idea sounded lovely, a glass of fancy red to make you sleep? Yes please.

You tucked the other ear bud in and went about pouring yourself a generous amount of drink in a long stemmed glass Jake brought back from a vineyard he doesn’t remember visiting.

You took a generous gulp and tried not to gag at the bitter taste. It burned all the way down but not with a bite, a slow bitter curl coated your tongue and throat, insisting on more and more to be drunk.

So you do, and finish the glass before tucking your knees to your chest.

Your head was heavy, and just as Can’t Take My Eyes Off You begins, you notice the cooling tears that had fallen down your cheeks unknowingly. You sniffle and then hiccup, twisting your empty glass and considering a refill as Jake shuffled out of the hallway, his pants slung low on his hips and his shirt missing.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted around the room, spotting you after you sniffled again from your place balled up in the chair, your face buried in your knees.

“Hey…” he whispers, not noticing your headphones until he wraps his arms around you and you jump with a yelp. You rip out your AirPod and face him with flooded eyes, in the midst of your cry. “Baby!” He coos in surprise, “What’s wrong?” He pulls you back into his chest, his fingertips at work against your scalp.

You shake your head, “I… I-It was just a bad dream. I’m okay, I promise.” You sniffle, staring at his chest and not his face. His hands cupped your chin and made you meet his eye.

“Look at me.” He said with quiet and loving firmness. You lock eyes with him and take a deep breath through your mouth as he does. “I know you haven’t been to sleep.” He said knowingly. You close your eyes in embarrassment. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong…” he whispered, “—Before I start making assumptions.” He finished as if he hadn’t already formed them from the moment he saw your face at the studio meeting.

You stare at him for a moment, your tipsy brain swimming with swollen emotions and bruised self image.

“Everything.” You whisper before shaking your head, “And absolutely nothing. Truly.” You clamp your eyes shut in confusion. “It’s gonna be fine though.” You assure quietly, both yourself and him.

Jake puts a hand on your shoulder, keeping the other on your face. “Is this about the tour?” He asked quieter than before, his tone void of emotion.

You hesitate before you nod, and he mirrors you when he sees your answer, and you feel fear strike through you like a crack of thunder. He tsks and you feel his fingers squeeze your shoulder before rubbing it lovingly, “Whatever you’re thinking… I just want you to know… whatever you want, I want too.” He said directly into your eyes.

Your brows pinch before you shake your head, “What?”

He shakes his head and casts his gaze low, his mouth flat and eyes still empty, like a stone wall was put up to guard the windows you’d so easily peered into before. Was he angry? Was this what it looked like for him?

“I should’ve thought about what it would mean for you— me being gone all the time.” He said lowly. “I don’t blame you for getting tired of it, I really don’t.”

“It’s not that I’m tired of it, Jake.” You finally say. His eyes find yours again and you place the AirPod in your hand on the counter to cradle his face as he had done yours, “I love seeing your dreams come true. You are magic out there, baby—I will never get tired of hearing all the stories you have or the feeling I get when you call me on the road.” You ramble, thinking out loud more than anything.

“I’m just… scared.” You realize. Jake flinches back a little in confusion, “—scared of everything the world has to offer you—Everything I don’t have—it’s out there. And you have every opportunity imaginable, now. And yeah, I miss you like crazy, and I get bummed when I realize I’m watching your life happen through a phone screen, but I love seeing you happy even more than missing out makes me sad.” You shake your head emphatically.

Your phone lights up and Jake catches a glimpse of the album currently playing and forgotten in the AirPods. Jake looks back at you and picks up the loose ear bud, tucking it in his ear before reaching for your phone and unlocking it.

You chuckle in disbelief, tears still rolling down your face as he scrolls through the playlist and selects We Belong Together by Los Lobos and sets the phone back down, adjusting the volume with his slick smile that told you everything was about to be fine.

“The world?” He asks as he pulls you to your feet and places his hands around your waist. You drape your arms around his shoulders as you’d done countless times before and waited for him to continue, “I have it. Right here.” His fingers worked under the back of your shirt to graze your skin lovingly.

You scoff as he begins to sway you both side to side, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering confidence in his words. “I’m serious.” He says before releasing one hand from you and raising the other to have you spin, which you obliged with an adoring eye roll.

“You say that now, but—“

“No, no buts.” He shakes his head and begins swaying you again, “I don’t care what’s out there when I already have everything I’ve ever wanted right here at home with me.” He pulled you close and kissed your neck, the affection sending more tears prickling at your eyes and a wistful sigh

“Jake—“

“Shhh…” he whispered in your ear, tucking your head into his shoulder, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.” He said. “Nothings going to change that. Not as long as you want to be with me.” He stroked your back reassuringly as more tears fell down your cheeks.

“I always want to be with you.” You whisper pathetically, letting your forehead thunk against his chest.

You feel him chuckle against you before he kisses your head, “And I with you.” He says like a guy with a plan before he spins you, smiling at your own sleepy smile and closed eyes as you begin dancing with him properly, hips swaying and bare feet shuffling across the cold tile floor.

You giggle, “I can’t believe you like me that much.”

Jake snickers at your flushed skin, happy to see you so light after the heaviness that followed you today. He missed you. This.

Jake loved dancing with you. Whenever a song called to him, he was quick to sweep you up in a waltz and relish every smile or giggle he could pull out of you. When you started staying the night with him, you guys would take turns playing music, which quickly evolved into Jake playing beautiful melodies he said reminded him of you, songs he’d heard and longed to share with you in a close dance.

To think of it, everything made him think of you, he realized as he swayed with you in his arms. “More than you know.” He mumbled, spinning you one more time before wrapping you up and resting his head against yours, singing the rest of the song in his low velvety voice.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There were only two weeks left til the band left for tour.

After your conversation with Jake things felt better. The dread hadn’t loomed over you like you assumed it would, and things with Jake were as good as ever, no holds barred anymore. You were quick to tell him your thoughts and feelings, even more so now than you had before, and seemingly, so had Jake.

You worried you’d lose that once he left, though. That it would be something you had to work and build at when you’d get back together.

During Dreams in Gold, you made three shows, and got two weeks with him in the middle of the tour, uninterrupted—which was nice! But it was different than seeing him every day and falling asleep next to him at night.

Today, you were at the studio to go over more details and itinerary for the first leg of performances in the states.

You and Jake showed up only 20 minutes late with matching iced coffees, Sam scoffing when he saw you didn’t bring him one of his own.

“This is what I get for being here on time!” He flopped into the couch and looked at Danny, who was just reentering the room, “They got Scooters!”

Danny’s eyes widened, “That’s so uncool.” He playfully seethed before whipping out his phone and muttering something about delivery and a cookie.

Jake obnoxiously slurps the emptying drink with eyes locked on Sam’s. Sam lurches to his feet and storms over to his brother to snatch the empty cup and throw it in the trash. “Not on my watch.”

Wordlessly you hand Jake yours, still half full, for him to take a sip just as Josh strode in. “I made it! Can we get a time stamp?” He asked the room around him.

“It’s 9:37, Josh.” Aaron marked from the other side of the room as he prepared itemized sheets for everyone. Josh nods with an easy smile. “We were due to meet at 9:00.” Aaron amended, wiping the smug smile off Josh’s face.

“Oh. Well, we’re all here now, right? Let’s start! Whatcha got for us?” Josh leaned on the table and listened intently.

The group gathered around the table and took a look at the papers in front of them, getting handed your own with your name at the top for whatever reason. You miss the expectant look from Jake and Aaron but you read the pages carefully, seeing where this adventure would take Jake this time.

Back through the states, most he’d seen before, and then the countries— the Netherlands, Germany, Ireland, Spain, Portugal— places you’d dreamed of seeing long before you dreamed of Jake Kiszka.

You sigh, softly and dreamily as Aaron talks transport for their European leg; plane rides and first class tickets, excursions to the Louvre and Stonehenge, and lodging and hostels.

“Is the little place we have for our week in France the same one we used for that little getaway we took a couple years ago?” Sam asked with excitement.

Aaron nodded as did Jake, “Yep! Oh, Jake, I put you guys in the empress suite like you asked. I’m still waiting on confirmation at two of the other hotels, but you guys should be set with a master suite wherever we’re staying.” The manager looked from Jake to you as he spoke, your confusion stirring, was there a mistake? Are he and Josh sharing rooms?

Jake looks to you with expectant eyes, as if waiting for your thoughts. He smiles and nudges your shoulder when you don’t answer, “What do you think?”

“About what?” The group breaks into laughter as you look at Jake for an explanation.

“About coming with me.” He took your hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. You softly gasped and looked over the papers in front of you again, your own agenda highlighted in orange for when the band would be busy.

You look back at him in awe, “Really?” Is all you can muster in a ghost of your voice.

Jake smiled and nodded quickly, “Yeah, of course—I’m tired of leaving you.” He covered your hand with his. “Say you’ll come.”

You nod before you can speak and then kiss him right on the mouth. “I wanna be wherever you are.” You say with a cheek aching smile, a real one stretched wide across your face.

“And I, you.” He agreed, though he knew his words could never convey how much he shared the feeling.

But hopefully… the other surprises he had planned for the tour can say it for him…

-

-

[wonwoosthetic]

Amour-Haine & Co. | Chapter 18 |

series masterlist

word count – 15k

warnings – mentions of sex, mentions of sa (I tried to keep it brief and not mention it an unnecessary amount of time), cursing, screaming, law enforcement related things

a/n – I have nothing to say other than thank god this finally made its way onto tumblr😭 I’m still not 100% satisfied with it but I feel like if I edit it any more, it’s only gonna get worse😭😭 pls enjoy this, thank you for everything🫶🏼 BTW: this chapter includes A LOT of law enforcement and court terms and scenes, but since I am no expert in that field, please be prepared for inaccuracy! If any one you have more experience in either one of these subjects: please let me know!! If I can make it any more realistic, I’d love to do so!! Also: thank you to the anon who inspired me for the Jeonghan turn🫶🏼🥰 when I first outlined the story, this was definitely not planned but after seeing their request in my inbox a few months ago, I just knew I had to include it, so I hope you enjoy it🤍

fyi – not much lovey y/n x wonwoo in this chapter, but don’t you worry bc there will be more than enough in the next ones ˙ᵕ˙

“I’m proud of you.”

"Mmmm," Binna's enjoyable moan echoed through your ear as she took the first sip of her second cocktail that night - she had downed the first one within the first 10 minutes of sitting. "Long day at work, don't wanna talk about it," she commented on it as soon as she found your questioning, and slightly concerned, gaze on her.

You couldn't help but chuckle as you continued to sip on your first cocktail of the evening, your food still untouched next to you. By now the steam had already evaporated, and the ice in your drink had melted, watering down the burning taste of too much alcohol the trainee bartender had graciously given you. 

Your eyes were fixed on her and the lowering level of liquid in her glass as it went down and down with every sip, coming to a halt just right to make it half-full. "Are you sure, you're okay?" You questioned her carefully.

She hastily nodded, wiping her hands, now covered in salt from her fries, with a white napkin. "Yeah, yeah," she brushed you off before placing both of her palms on the surface of the table, slightly leaning forward with a smirk. "Now tell me, how's playboy-turned-loverboy doing?"

"Good. I think," you slyly answered, reaching out for a fry, which was interrupted by a harsh slap on the back of your hand, making you wince as you snatched it back. "OW!"

"Don't fucking say 'I think' as if you don't see him at work all the time and sleep over at his place every second day," Binna snapped at you. What you hadn't told her was that Wonwoo had also asked you to come over that evening, but you decided to cancel, remembering the date you and your best friend had already agreed on.

With wide eyes, you shrugged, "Yeah- well- I don't know. I think he's doing well." You knew the unknown was making her even more giddy, and only more questions would spill out of her.

"I think he's doing a little very well if he gets to sleep with you, don't you think?" She always had her way with compliments.

The liquid of your drink got stuck in your throat as you covered your mouth, giggling at her sudden comment. "Jesus, Binna," you shook your head as she joined your laughter. "I think he's doing well because this whole Chanyeol situation is finally coming to an end." You reminded the both of you of the hopefully last time you'd ever come face to face with the man of the hour. The day was coming closer, prayers were being said each night, quietly just hoping to make it stop.

Your best friend gave you a nod in understanding. "When are you seeing Jihoon again? Tomorrow, right?" You nodded. "Then we can finally stop talking about this piece of shit. He's been occupying your mind a little too much." Just like most of the time, she was yet again right about that. The following day would be the last consultation you'd have with Wonwoo's lawyer before your court date on Friday - Payday.

"Yeah, well," you sighed in frustration, leaning back in the wooden chair, "Can you blame me?"

"No, no, of course not," she quickly reassured you, patting your hand. "But at least you also got some other things to keep your mind occupied with." Wiggling her eyebrows to underline her question. Even without her antic, you would've known what she was implying.

"You mean Wonwoo?" You chuckled, to which she excitedly nodded, biting down on her lips to hide the grin that was daring to escape. "But even there's Chanyeol involved! Do you know how much we've talked about him?"

"Ugh," Binna faked a gag, "Can we just agree to not say his name out loud anymore? Let's just call him... Grapefruit." That woman and her codenames. Ever since she had started working as a teacher, this became a thing of hers to do with all of the men she shared a bed with. At first, it was only to be able to talk about them in front of the kids, since some of those stories may have included a single father or two of the kids in her class, but she had let it seep into her everyday life. Explaining why you'd now find yourself calling a thirty-something-year-old grown man "bookshelf", just because of the way his haircut looked from the side. Grapefruit would be added to the list.

"Grapefruit?"

"Yeah," she nodded, taking another sip, "I hate Grapefruits. Anyways-," she waved it off to change the subject. "What do you mean you talk about Cha- I mean, Grapefruit?"

"Well- like, about the entire situation. You know, some evenings we spent going through court stuff or looked through what he's been up to." Jihoon had mentioned to 'always know who you're going up against'. And Wonwoo and you took his advice to heart. There were multiple nights spent together in the office, sometimes along with Mingyu, or even at his place, going through the files the court had published to you about Exodus' Entertainment. You had stalked his Social Media presence and analyzed his public outings. The smiles he would fake, the words he would lie with. You knew this man inside out, having spent three years with him did come in handy. Even after all this time, he took up more time inside your brain than you would've liked to.

While continuing your story, you motioned around with your hands on the table. "It even all started with him. Sometimes... I mean, I don't always bring it up with Wonwoo, sometimes it's just in my mind. To myself. But... yeah..." Pressing your pointer to a random spot on the wood.

"Hold up-," Binna raised her hand to stop you, "He started it all? What is 'it'? You and Wonwoo?"

You already knew you'd regret your answer before it had even left your lips, but who else could you be the most honest with, if not your best friend since primary school. "Kinda..." 

"Alright, you're stupid." She simply stated, staring blankly right at you.

"No, wait-" You scolded her, but she just shrugged. 

"What? You're an idiot. Why would you think that? How could that asshole have anything to do with what's going on with you two now?" 

You sighed, shaking your head slightly, knowing you'd have to choose your words wisely "No, no, look. I mean," you sighed with an annoyed undertone, trying to get your eyes off her. "I know he doesn't have any effect on me anymore whatsoever, but you can't deny that because of what happened, Wonwoo and I got closer. The break-in started a whole chain reaction-"

"That's idiotic to think about-" Before she could finish, you cut her off.

"No, it's not. It's what made us talk more to each other. Why we started to actually interact and realise that we would have to work with each other and not against each other like we did before." The two of you knew, your words held some truth.

Binna violently shook her head, her bob moving along, "Maybe for you, but most definitely not for him."

You scrunched your eyebrows at the slightly slurred words from your best friend. "What do you mean?"

"He invited you to that event thing before all that shit went down. For God's sake, Y/N!" She shouted into the room, immediately making you jump up to cover her mouth from across the table. You sent her a wide-eyed glare, hoping to make her understand to shut her mouth. Binna nodded as she grasped your hand to pull it down, continuing her exclaim in a quieter volume. "He bought you a fucking dress! And not a cheap one!"

"I know that! But keep it quiet," you snapped at her, sitting back down to continue nursing your drink which was now close to getting empty. God, you should've just ordered two at once, just like Binna did.

"You're not listening to what I'm saying-"

"You're not listening to what I'm saying. I don't think that nothing would've ever happened, but it did speed things up A LOT."

"I thought we went over this. Stop overthinking all of this. Be happy for yourself for once in your goddamn life! You've been fucked over by so many men in your life that don't even deserve to know about your existence. Your father included by the way," she pointed out, making you nod. "And now you found a man that would burn down the entire world for you, and you're still thinking about that shit-eating sorry excuse of a man from your past that doesn't even know how to do his own laundry?" The reminder made you almost chuckle, but the truth was too painful.

To think back on the fact that you once had your hands down his laundry basked and washing machine, because he didn't know how to make use of it, sent a shiver down your spine. "He did actually not know how to do that."

"That's what I'm saying," she sighed out desperately, throwing her head back with a groan. "All of them were such a waste of your time and patience and kindness. So... just enjoy what you have with Wonwoo now. So what if Grapefruit sped up things for you two? If anything, that's a good thing."

"I... I know what you mean. And... I... UGH-" You groaned under your breath, covering your face with your hands before running your fingers through your hair, an exhausted huff of air leaving your lips. If you could, you would've already punched yourself. Just like Binna did after you had told her what happened in Wonwoo's apartment after your quick trip to the Monbebe - she left a bruise that didn't go away for four days and Wonwoo had quite a few questions about that.

"He's not the reason for anything but misery in your life, alright?" The casual use of the nickname made you chuckle. "Wonwoo would still be knees deep for you, he'd still be this big fucking simp, and you'd also still have a crush on him that you, even now, don't want to admit to."

You interfered after hearing her comment as she slyly continued eating some of the fries in the middle of the table. "Hey! That's not true." You huffed out, mumbling the last part of the sentence.

"Oh, it's not? Have you ever said, you know what, 'I like him'? Or 'I have a crush on him'? " Binna nagged, knowing eventually she'd get something out of you.

You decided to stay silent, desperately hoping she'd just drop the subject but both of you knew better than that. 

"Exactly." She pressed her lips and eyes tightly together, her fingers digging into her temples. "You don't know if you have a crush on the man you've been spending the past three weeks with? Non-stop." Binna opened her eyes again to meet yours. "You don't know if you have a crush on the man that has been sending you flowers and food every single day at work? You wanna tell me you don't have a crush on the only man that has been actually able to make you come for the first time in-" Her continuous ranting made you groan out loud.

"OKAY! I like him, alright?! Fine! You win! I like him." With a last deep breath, you stunned her. "There. I said it. I like him, Binna. I really do. I'm scared, yes, fuck it, I'm terrified even, but whatever is going on right now feels really good and I really don't want to fuck it up."

You had decided to let yourself give into him, slowly but surely. The final decision must've happened way earlier in your brain. After yet another hot and passionate session of yours, late at night, cuddling into his side as he subconsciously was still grazing his fingers over your skin while slowly giving into the sleepiness that had overcome him. 

You couldn't help it. The more you tried to fight it, the more Wonwoo was willing to fight. A fresh set of flowers on your desk every single week, pastries from the bakery Binna and you had recently found and started to love every morning by the front desk at the office, heck even the car keys you hadn't been able to get rid of yet. By now it had basically turned into a game of you trying to leave them in his apartment or office, only for you to find them inside your bag later that day again. It made you chuckle each time. He was a stubborn one, that Jeon Wonwoo. Whenever your own thoughts were starting to catch up with you, trying to remind you that he was indeed too good to be true, and every man would eventually turn out to be the same, the CEO made sure to be right there, keeping your mind clean and ensuring you of his not-always-so-inocennt, yet pure intentions with you. The few sleepless nights the two of you had been spending together were proof of just that.

With wide eyes and a smug smile on her lips, Binna leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Well done. I'm proud of you."

Sulkingly, knowing she had finally gotten what she wanted, you crossed your arms. "Leave me alone."

The woman in front of you continued to gaze at you, her lips sealed as she took in your sunken-in frame. A sad smile was starting to form on her face. "You don't have to pretend to be all cold and cool about this. He's pretty cute. With all the stuff he does."

You wish you could've stopped the blush spreading on your cheeks, but it shined so proudly, lighting up your entire face as you bit down on your bottom lip.

"I know," you mumbled, taking a fry to fill your mouth with, trying to distract yourself from the situation and hoping your body would stop naturally reacting like that.

A second of silence passed between the two of you before Binna's chuckle interrupted it. She let her forearms rest on top of the table, leaning in to catch your gaze.

"I haven't seen you blush like that in years," she commented softly, reaching to pet the back of your hand. "You deserve this, Y/N. Enjoy it."

Slowly, you raised your head, still almost too shy to lock eyes with her directly. Your gaze quickly fell to your hands touching before chuckling, finding your own thoughts ridiculous, but as embarrassing as it may have seemed to you, you couldn't and didn't want to hold back.

"I really do like him."

Your best friend nodded, "I know," a proud smile decorating her face. Happiness had never looked and felt so good.

-

The plain white walls were starting to dawn on you. A waiting room so sterile, with two paintings being the only splash of colour in the entire corridor, would do that. Even after all the times you had spent sitting there, you were still not used to it and weren't planning on it any time soon. The hope of not having to return all that much ever again had not yet vanished.

A heavy sigh tumbled from your lips as you sulked even deeper into the grey-cushioned seats Jihoon had chosen for his law firm. The past twenty minutes had started to feel closer to an hour with the hollowness of the room. The only sound echoing through your ear was the rushed typing of his assistant around the corner, who hadn't stopped ever since you had arrived. Not even your phone could entertain you enough anymore, time was just moving too slowly.

Wonwoo, with whom you came, had just gotten off the phone with God-knows-who when he directed his attention to you. Amusement made his lips curl up as he put his phone into the inside pouch of his suit jacket before hiding his hands in his pockets.

"He likes to take his time." 

Your exclaim of a breath told him everything he needed to know. He took a quick peek at the still-closed door to the lawyer's office. A door you had been staring at for at least ten minutes.

You took a deep breath in desperation. "Yeah, a little too much time." Your comment made Mingyu, who was sitting opposite of you chuckle. You had to hold back any snarky remark, remembering that he was your last bit of hope and you were supposed to give him all the time he could possibly need. He was a busy man after all and you were most definitely not his only clients. 

Wonwoo's laugh rang through your ear as he got closer to your seated position. "Well, look who's suddenly the impatient one." His comment made you roll your eyes but made the slight smile playing on your lips almost impossible to hide. The past few weeks with him must've done something with you. 

Ever since that late-night event after your not-so-pleasant visit to the Monbebe, the dynamic between the two of you had changed. Drastically. It was less about built-up anger and frustration, not even about hidden tension anymore. Much rather was it now about appreciation, care, and gentleness and... even enjoyment. In all this mess, the two of you had found a way to enjoy each other's presence and forget about the daunting events that were still haunting you.

You two had spent more nights together since then. More than your old self would probably like to admit. But your new self?... She enjoyed it. Not only did those nights end in sex. No, some were just filled with late-night talking - some work-related, others not. He had started asking questions. Quite a few even. About you, and your childhood. Wonwoo had wanted to know what your favourite season was, what your favourite memory of your school time was, and which celebrity you'd bring back from the dead if you could - questions no other ex had ever even entertained to wonder about. Some questions you hadn't even ever asked yourself. And you answered him. You gave him an answer to every single one of his questions. In return, you had found out about his childhood best friends, about him being his grandmother's favourite grandchild, and about what he'd do if he could go back in time. You got to get to know Wonwoo. Not hot-playboy-CEO-bachelor Jeon Wonwoo, but the Jeon Wonwoo, who graduated top of his year at Seoultech University. Wonwoo, whose discovery of stage fright in middle school shattered his dreams of becoming an actor even before his father could drag him into the family business. Wonwoo, who would kill and die for his friends and family and who might look and act like the coldest asshole to walk the streets of the city, but could be deeply caring about the ones most important to him at the same time. You had almost forgotten about the person you had always thought he had been as you got to meet the real side of him. 

The side that called his mum at least once a week whenever she wasn't in town to keep up with the latest gossip she had to tell him. He'd roll his eyes while on the phone with her, sending you looks of apology while you continued to sip on the wine he had poured for you, chuckling at the sight in front of you as he walked around the apartment, nodding along to whatever his mother was ranting about. The side that would never forget your dinner reservations at 8, already thinking about what you'd be wearing and what flowers to get you to match your outfit while listening to yet another uneducated business partner and throwing him out of the room as soon as one wrong comment would fall from their lips. He cursed their existence and the entirety of the corporate world while promising to make his own office and company a place where employees would enjoy coming to work.

He'd sit in his office, checking his wrist every few minutes, counting down the time and catching glimpses at you talking to the other employees, desperately waiting for the work day to end, so he could be at home, doing the dishes he had left in the sink in the morning, still needing to change the bedsheets before you'd arrive with the food you had promised to pick up on the way. How domestic of you two.

There were no obligations, no rules you had to follow. You were just enjoying yourself. Enjoying your time with him. The words he had trusted you with had branded themselves onto your heart and brain, reminding you every single day of what you were getting yourself into. You started to trust him. You were starting to fall. It was crazy. You couldn't help yourself, you couldn't hold back. You didn't want to. Falling was something so inevitably impossible to stop from happening. Whether you're falling over, falling down, or... falling in love.

You had caught yourself looking at him already. Multiple times in the last few weeks. Commenting to yourself, he's facial structure, the tilted line of his jaw, and the bridge of his nose were just aesthetically pleasing. No one would deny, that you were correct in your assumption. But that was not the reason you couldn't help yourself from looking at him. You had ignored the tingle in your stomach and the warmth spreading in your chest. But there was only so much time that you could tell yourself it was nothing until it did become something. And the end of that time arrived sooner than you could've prepared yourself for and hit you like a wall.

You had repeatedly thought about those nights you had spent with him, sitting by the dining table, snacking on the takeout you had decided on for that evening while reading out loud letters from the courthouse, the judge, Jihoon, Jeonghan, and even Chanyeol. Statements from Sehun were rarely ever in the mail you received, he opted for texting you privately, promising to stand with you and support the decisions you would make. But those evenings had led to the current scene unfolding. Another appointment in the Lee Jihoon law firm. The, hopefully, last official time you'd meet here for the haunting reason of Park Chanyeol.

Wonwoo grunted as he threw himself onto the empty seat next to you, "I swear to God, once we're in there, I'm gonna-"

"You're not gonna do anything," you interrupted him, looking to your left to find his side profile as he was still glaring at the closed door. His patience was running thin, you could tell. With a smirk and a scoff, he leaned back and turned to the side, his eyes meeting yours.

"You don't believe me?" He teasingly wondered.

"Oh no, I do believe you," you assured him with a similar smile, "But I also know that you know better than to anger your only friend that can get us out of this."

"Can you maybe not flirt right in front of me?" The younger CEO cringed as he looked towards the door, trying to divert his eyes from the two of you.

Before Wonwoo was able to talk back, a snarky remark already playing on the tip of his tongue, the white door suddenly opened, revealing the slightly messy head of wavy hair.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jihoon joked as he looked into the hallway, his eyes immediately finding you two and your faces that had subconsciously moved in closer to each other.

With a quick move, Wonwoo pushed himself up from the cushion, his hand already awaiting yours to help you up as well. "Yeah, I was just talking about breaking in your door." You ignored his helping hand, opting to stand up yourself, only to feel his gentle grip on your elbows. Was he really helping you? No. Did you still enjoy the soft touch? Yes.

"Hilarious as always." Jihoon nodded, walking back inside, leaving you to let yourself in.

Before walking ahead, you snatched the two thin folders you had brought yourself into your hands and let yourself get led by Wonwoo's hand on your lower back. Something else, you had learned about him was his love for physical touch. Secret little touches had become a standard when standing or sitting next to him. Wonwoo was by no means a man attracted to any form of PDA, he enjoyed it very much privately though. But no one could deny his love for keeping his hand or even just a finger on you. He took pride in doing this as secretly as possible, making no one else notice it. Mentioning physical touch being his love language only got you a roll of his eyes, you recall, and a comment about Yeri, his cousin, nagging him about doing tests like them on the internet, as well as an MBTI test, so he'd 'have it much easier to find a suitable partner'. Later that day, he did admit those tests revealed that his love languages were, in fact, physical touch, as well as, words of affirmation and gift-giving. And his MBTI was, to his last knowledge, INFJ.

Mingyu closed the door as he was the last one to enter, and all four of you in your designated seats in Jihoon's office - him behind his big desk, you right opposite of him, with Wonwoo to your left and Mingyu on your right. The room matched the entire floor perfectly. Pearl-white walls locked you in, and every door matched the colour of the walls. Each piece of furniture was fitted to the cool tones he had decided on. The floor continued to be dark grey, reminding you of a modern doctor's office. Everyone had their own taste, but you were thankful your office looked much different.

You handed him the last piece of content he'd need for the final trial tomorrow. During the past weeks, Jihoon and Jeonghan had consultations with the judge privately, as well as publicly. None of you were supposed to be there as it was only between the lawyers, and he was yet to update you on the progress he had made.

"Okay," the lawyer looked through the printed-out document you had brought along. "This is everything Sehun has texted you? Every single thing. Every word, every picture he sent, every single emoji? Everything."

You nodded along with his questions.

"Everything. I promise. I didn't change anything. I just, copy and pasted it," you swore to him as you spoke the truth.

Jihoon thanked you. "I'll get this to the judge before the trial tomorrow. She won't read it out loud while we're in the courtroom unless it's one hundred per cent necessary so that nothing will happen to Sehun."

"Thanks," you smiled at him. You had kindly asked him to do just that. With everything going on, and Chanyeol already hating enough people, his anger being on a 10/10 most likely, you didn't want to throw Sehun under the bus and call him out for helping you and doing the right thing. What he'll do after this shitshow was done was his issue to deal with and not your place to be involved in.

"So," Wonwoo decided to lead the following conversation. "Where are we right now? How are things looking so far?"

The younger man leaned back in his chair, throwing the pieces of paper back on his desk. He took a deep breath. "Good, I'd say."

"You'd say? That was a yes-or-no kind of question," The CEO stated, his facial expression strict and cold, just like the rest of the world knew him.

"Well, Wonwoo, I can't guarantee you anything. These people are unpredictable. They always have something up their sleeve, like literally constantly, and I'm trying my damn best here-"

"Then do better-"

"Wonwoo-" Mingyu tried to stop the two.

"Wait," you interrupted them before their fight could explode. "What do you mean? What happened last time?" Your eyes were trained on the lawyer as he pushed his chair to turn around, getting a brown file out of his cupboard before turning back, and throwing it to land right in front of you.

Once you got your hands on it and opened the file, you let your eyes rake over each line written in what seemed to be a university document from Seoultech. With your eyebrows scrunched together and your mouth slightly hanging open, you lifted your head to glance at Wonwoo.

"You cheated on your final exams and plagiarised your dissertation?" 

"What?" He quickly got a hold of the piece of paper, reading it for himself, and opened his mouth, ready to raise his voice as he stood up. "That's-"

"Bullshit, I know," Jihoon stopped him calmly. "Don't worry, I called them and got statements from your professors."

Wonwoo looked at his friend in confusion, "But most of them are retired," who just walked over to him to get the file back into his ownership, a smirk proudly presented on his lips.

"I told you, I'm good at my job." Making the CEO scoff and roll his eyes.

You were still in a twilight zone, not able to follow every detail you had read and the conversation happening between the two men.

"But if it was so easy for you to debunk it, why did they write something like that?" Mingyu wondered, gaining back the lawyer's attention.

He sighed before shrugging and settling back into his chair. "I guess they just wanted to try. They claimed Wonwoo to be a master in faking documents, not realising that if I were to find the real ones, they'd be accused of doing the exact same thing. At this point, they have almost nothing else to lose because they're already so close to losing this entire lawsuit."

"Well," Wonwoo jumped in, choosing to continue standing up, "Then what's gonna happen tomorrow? Anything we need to be prepared for?"

Jihoon looked down at his desk as his fingers had started to play with a pen, occupying himself as he talked. 

"Before I brought you guys in, I sent them some final stuff. Some of the statements Sehun got us, and the security camera footage from your office. I think it was Vernon, but he was able to zoom into the face and de-pixel it, which was revealed to be one of Chanyeol's employees who I had mentioned already last week in front of the judge. So, they'll go over that and comment on it tomorrow. They'll probably ask you guys some more questions about the night of the break-in. Like, where you were, what you were doing, how did you find out, and so on. Just be honest about that. Try to stick to the version you guys have told me, that would make my life a lot easier, thank you. They'll also question Park about it, probably also Sehun." He fell quiet for a second before continuing. "Everything else is pretty much done. They reached out to some of the women, but most of them declined to show up in court personally and chose to send in videos and written statements. It would be smart to read them out loud, but I don't know if they will or if they'll protect the identities of those women. My plan would be to win your lawsuit tomorrow and let them handle the sexual assault cases alone without us involved. And I don't know how that will play in for us... I mean- they've seen all of Yoon's tricks, and they're really not impressed by him from what I could tell."

"Good," Wonwoo commented in the middle of it.

"But they also haven't forgotten about your little fight, remember that." He pointed a strict finger at the oldest one in the room.

Another reason, why Jihoon and Jeonghan had been asked to be seen in front of the judge alone was 'for their own safety'. After the last encounter all of you had in court ended in Wonwoo and Chanyeol almost beating each other up, the judge, Miss Kang, had sent out individual emails, asking the lawyers to visit her on their own. The last sitting would be with everyone again though.

"I have the feeling that the jury is definitely on our side, but the judge might ask about the fight and possible anger issues," Jihoon continued to explain.

Wonwoo scoffed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "What do anger issues have to do with any of this?! And if anyone has anger issues, it's that fucking idiot Park, alright?!"

The younger one of the two and you looked at each other in silence, also sharing a quick look with Mingyu, before turning towards the CEO. A tight smile made its way onto your face, but the awkward silence hung heavily in the room. Wonwoo glanced at Jihoon first, before desperately looking at Mingyu and you. With a deep breath, he decided to sit back down.

"I have anger issues only when it comes to him."

-

Getting into Wonwoo's car the day of the last court sitting almost felt like every other time you had done it. The sequence was the same. He'd text you, he was on his way. Once he arrived, he'd ring the number of your apartment and you'd let him in. You'd leave your front door open, so he could come in once he reached your floor while getting your bag ready and possibly doing some finishing touches on your makeup. Days where you had spent the previous night at his place were slightly different. After having breakfast together at his dining table, and brushing your teeth, Wonwoo would get ready in the morning to chauffeur you to your apartment. He'd patiently wait in your living room while you got ready in your bedroom. He had offered to keep some things at his apartment already, yet you declined, assuring yourself of not moving too quickly by still getting ready for the day in your own room. Having a toothbrush and stuff to sleep in at his place was enough for you for the time being.

Your focus was solely on your phone as you texted Mingyu your whereabouts, asking him if he had already made his way over to the courthouse. Nervously, you had also texted Jihoon, keeping him updated with every street you got closer and closer.

The sudden touch of a hand on your knee made you look up. "Stop." Wonwoo had put his hand on you, stopping your leg from violently shaking. "You have no reason to be nervous, we got this."

"That's easier said than done," you scoffed. "They could destroy us. They could've something planned and we wouldn't know."

"Could you check the glove compartment, please?" Wonwoo got your attention, making you raise your head at his sudden question after enjoying the silence in the car.

"Hm?" You hummed.

With a quick glance at you and a nod towards the storage unit in his car, he repeated his question. "The glove compartment. I got a letter from my mum yesterday, and I put it in there. She texted me and said it was for both of us." With a swift one-handed move, you rounded the corner.

"For us?" You wondered confused, reaching forward to open the compartment.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

You got the letter in your hands, immediately noticing the pastel pink envelope, chuckling to yourself. Jeon Chaewon's role as one of the most feminine old-fashioned ladies you had ever met was no joke.

Careful not to destroy the paper too much, you opened the letter, getting the piece of paper out of the envelope when two extra pieces fell into your lap - slightly smaller than the letter itself. You decided to take a look at them first. After turning them around, you gasped. Your hand fell to your mouth before a chuckle erupted from your lungs.

"What?" A quick glance at Wonwoo made Wonwoo's eyebrows shoot up, only to calm down again once he noticed your amusement.

You couldn't help but bite down on your lip as you showed him the plane tickets. "Your mum's sending us to Paris?" Throwing the question into the room as you were still confused, now directing your attention to the letter, reading through the lines she wrote.

"Oh," you exclaimed. "There's a business even in Paris. She wants us to go." Reading the last sentence got another chuckle out of you. "She said, P.S.: If you want to take Mingyu along as well, I can get you another ticket, but think about that carefully."

"Aaah," Wonwoo nodded, stopping at a red light, letting his elbow rest by the window as he glanced to your side. "She told me about this before she left." He reached out to read through the letter himself. "But I didn't know she already booked tickets for us."

"And a hotel," you added.

"A hotel too?" He wondered, looking at you as you leaned over the middle console to point towards the sentence where she had mentioned the hotel you'd be staying in.

Wonwoo sighed, "Jesus..." With his focus still on the handwriting of his mother, he forgot about the illuminating lights ahead of you.

You glanced up as the green light hit your eyes. "It's green," you pointed out, snatching the letter out of his hand, so he'd put his focus back on the road.

Wonwoo noticed you had gone quiet, while your eyes were on the tickets and the letters. "Do you want to go?" He asked.

You looked up at him, putting all the pieces of paper back together into the envelope. "I think now is not really the right time to think about a Paris trip, to be honest."

"But it's a business trip."

"Yeah," you chuckled. "But to Paris." You continued to look at him, waiting for him to meet your eyes. He exchanged glances with you for a short moment, his lips curling up the slightest amount.

"Yes. As a business trip," he repeated, making you chuckle. "So, do you wanna go?" He asked you again, keeping you in his view as you reached another red light for a few seconds.

With a deep breath in, you shrugged your shoulders, keeping the envelope in your grip as your bag was still in the backseat. "Sure, why not. We should do it for your mum if she requested it."

"For my mum?" Wonwoo chuckled, making you nod.

"Yeah," you cleared your throat. "I mean, if she already booked everything, it would be rude not to go. And like you said, it's a business trip for an event, so... that would be good, right?"

He nodded. "Right."

For a second, you stayed silent before speaking up again, noticing how much closer you had gotten to the courthouse.

"Should we ask Mingyu if he'd want to come as well?"

"God no," Wonwoo was quick to answer with a huff. He took a quick look at you, a grin already spreading on his lips. "Somebody's gotta keep the company in check while we're gone, right?"

With a smile, you nodded along with him. "Mm, you're right." Before both of you fell into another round of comfortable silence while the smile never left your lips, biting down to hide it.

You turned your head to glance outside of the window, watching the buildings pass before Wonwoo took the last right turn to enter the parking lot.

-

Exiting the car and walking towards the main entrance of the courthouse, you were suddenly attacked by a group of men and women clinging onto their notebooks.

"Miss Yoon! Do you think, you will win!"

"Mister Jeon, are you confident for the trial today?"

"Is it true that Mister Park was a bad ex-boyfriend?"

"Is this all a publicity stunt to get more attention and build up your company, Mister Jeon?"

"Was the judge bribed by Mister Park and Mister Oh?"

With shock written all over your face, you came to a sudden halt, the grip on your bag strap tightening. Wonwoo, who was right behind you, hot on your heels, was quick to reach around you, pulling you in closer towards his body as soon as he heard the first words being shouted at the two of you. The cold glare of the CEO didn't stop the journalists from coming closer, pestering you with even more questions. The sudden attention overwhelmed you as you stumbled up the stairs towards the main entrance, where Jihoon was already waiting for you, holding the door open, and ushering you to move faster. As soon as your feet crossed the ledge, he closed the doors.

"Get a life!" He shouted at the mass, as they groaned in synch, turning back around and separated into individual groups again.

Still in shock, you turned around, not noticing the hand still on your body, not meaning to let go any time soon. 

"What the hell was that?!" You exclaimed, brushing through your hair the wind had messed up slightly.

Jihoon groaned, walking past you, making the two of you follow him together as he started explaining. "I don't know who called them. Last week only two of them were here, but Jesus..."

"But why are journalists so interested in this? It's not like this is a national scandal-"

"Not national, but within the corporate world, this is quite big. Park's company might be about to break, and everyone wants in on that," Jihoon explained as you were catching your breath again, finding Mingyu's tight smile as he stood by the door of the courtroom, patiently waiting for you.

"Or maybe they're here to watch the Jeon empire collapse." A sudden all-too-familiar voice caught you off guard. Turning around, you were met with the mischievous eyes you've known for oh so long. "How tragic would that be," Jeonghan smirked at you three, his hand deep in his pocket as he casually walked up to you.

"We'll see about that," the lawyer snapped back.

Seeing the cheeky smile that had been haunting you for weeks made your heart race in anger as you bit down on your tongue, knowing every word you'd give off yourself could be turned against you. Without another comment, you turned around and rushed over to Mingyu in quick steps, greeting him with a hug, forgetting about Wonwoo and Jihoon, who decided to join you, leaving your cousin in the middle of the corridor before he disappeared around the corner again.

"Where's he going?" The younger CEO wondered, nudging his head towards the direction Loki had just left in.

Wonwoo shrugged, "Who knows."

"Probably consoling Park and Oh about some last-minute stuff," Jihoon took the word, glancing at you three. "Is everything clear with you guys? Any questions?"

Mingyu and you shook your heads as the oldest answered for all of you.

"No, let's get this shit over with." Speaking from your soul.

-

The four of you were directed towards your designated table on the left side of the room with Jihoon on the far right, closest to the middle of the room, followed by Wonwoo to his left, then you, and Mingyu was seated next to you. The rest of the room was empty, apart from the court reporter who was setting up her station and the security man by each door. As the trial was private, no public interests were allowed in the room. Even with the silence filling it, neither one of you even dared to open your mouth, knowing better than to let anything get to you.

The entrance door opened, the voices of the three people entering immediately bounced off the walls. They may have tried to whisper, but God knows they were terrible at it.

"Good morning," Jeonghan bowed to each security guard with a smile on his face, his followers copying him. As they passed your group, your cousin also sent a grin towards you, Chanyeol opted for a smug nod of his head while Sehun was seen with a genuine tight smile.

Exodus' CEO leaned back in his chair as soon as they all sat down, a loud sigh coming from him, making you close your eyes and take a deep breath in annoyance.

"Aaah," he moaned. "What a beautiful day today is, right guys? How terrible it would be to ruin that for someone." He took a quick look at your table, meeting Wonwoo's glare, but it only made Chanyeol chuckle.

You continued your prayers inside your head to let this pass quickly, followed by praying for his downfall and that he may please rot in a cell and never feel the touch of another human being ever again. He deserved nothing else.

Paranoid, you turned around to make sure your bag was still hanging over the back of your chair. After finding it right where you left it, your train of thought was interrupted.

"The jury will now enter!" A voice echoed through the room, making all of your heads look straight ahead to where the door opened. You could tell, not one of you had thought the trial would start so suddenly. The people who would make up the jury and would eventually be part of the reason for either your victory or downfall today entered the room. None of them even dared to lock eyes with any of you. Everyone kept their heads down until they were seated.

"All rise!" The voice spoke up again, making all of you act responsively as you stood up in synch, the sound of your chairs screeching against the floor slashing through your ear canal.

The door on the very far right side in front of you opened, revealing Miss Kang, the judge that had been assigned to your case. She greeted everyone in the room with a kind smile, making her warm presence light up the room. She was one of the good people within the law enforcement sector of the country, you just knew it. She'd trust you. Right?...

Judge Kang sat down on the big leathered chair, organising the stacks of paper in front of her, before taking a deep breath. 

"This court is now in session, you may be seated," she called out into the room. Each person followed her demand, taking a seat again, nudging their chairs closer towards the table in front of them.

"We've got quite beautiful weather today, so let's not make this complicated, alright? I think we all want to enjoy the few rays of sunshine," she tried to lighten up the aura of the courtroom, clearly noticing the heavy tension daunting on all of you. Quiet chuckles could be heard, following her comment, smiling faces gazing up at her.

She looked down at her papers. "Alright, we call the case 7.4.2-8 in which Oskan & Co. has been charged with theft and stolen copyright by Exodus Entertainment. Is the plaintiff ready?" She directed her eyes to the right table.

"Yes, Your Honour," Jeonghan answered her politely. The pitch of his voice could send a shiver down your spine almost in an instant. Laced with pretentiousness. You had to remind yourself not to react. Not even the smallest muscle on your face was supposed to move.

Unfaced, she then turned towards you. "Is the defence ready?"

Jihoon nodded confidently, "Yes, your honour."

"Good," she smiled again. "We'll first hear the opening statement from the defence, just to freshen up everyone's memory since it's been a while since we have all gathered here, right? Defendant lawyer, Lee Jihoon, please lay out the facts."

-

Breaks were forgotten. The trial was in full motion. One after the other was asked to come forward, sit down and get questioned by their own lawyer, followed by getting torn to shreds by the lawyer of the opposite party. Judge Kang had let Jihoon decide whether he'd want to start questioning one of you first somebody from the plaintiff - he chose to bring out Mingyu. 'Let's start with a defence, not attack', you remembered him saying.

Jeonghan followed by questioning Wonwoo. Picking people apart psychologically was one of his strongest character traits, he was raised by one of Korea's greatest manipulators after all. But his new approach confused you. Unlike the way you had seen him before, he was soft-spoken with the CEO. Nudging his answers out one by one while keeping a low tone. He must've known just how much Wonwoo would usually react to somebody talking to him like he was as stupid as they could come, but he kept it cool. It surprised all of you. He continued nodding politely, excusing himself every now and then, keeping his sharp tongue in the back of his throat, and never declining Jeonghan's accusations directly. Just like you had practised. The words 'No, this didn't happen' never once fell. Wordings like 'Not exactly', 'As far as I know', and 'To my understanding', were the only ones to ever hit your ear. If all calculated correctly, it must've left a good impression on the judge and jury.

Jihoon opted to get Chanyeol out of his seat next. What Jeonghan could do, he could only do better. He had the receipts.

He started out civil and collected. Asking questions about his whereabouts the night of the break-in, followed by general questions about the company, as they were slowly diverted to subject his private life. His hobbies, and how he would spend his weekdays and weekends if work was out of the question. Jeonghan tried his best to object to each question that wasn't concerning the case directly, but you better bet Jihoon had the perfect explanation for each of his statements ready to roll off his tongue. Every time your cousin shot out of his chair, his voice echoing through the room loud and clear, he was asked to sit down just as quickly.

Chanyeol was asked to stay seated as Jeonghan switched places with the other lawyer in the room, opening his mouth to defend his client as best as he could. If only it wasn't for Jihoon doing a much better job in the first place.

You let your eyes glide across the room. Focused on Miss Kang, you watched her take note after note, marking her own thoughts and questions down as the trial proceeded. Further on the right, the jury seemed invested. Some nodded along with each word coming from Jeonghan, while others scrunched up their faces as soon as Chanyeol would even just take a breath before coming up with an answer. It almost made you chuckle. You couldn't see Sehun unless you'd lean back, but you decided against it. It might direct unwanted attention to your action. You were about to glance at the security guard on the left side of the room when the sound of your name hit your ear.

Your head shot towards Jeonghan.

"To my understanding, you were in a committed relationship with one of the defendants." His steps came to a halt right in front of Exodus' CEO. Before he could even open his mouth, Jihoon hastily pushed his chair back.

"Objection, your honour! Privilege! To my understanding, we had decided to leave private relationships out of this trial if not directly connected." Each one of you knew that there was only a hint of truth in his statement since you were all convinced most of this trial was indeed directly connected to the bon you had once shared with the other man.

Judge Kang nodded. "You are correct about that, Mister Lee." She turned her attention to her left, but Jeonghan took the first word.

"Your honour, but doesn't the defendant being a past lover of my client not seem like a direct connection to the case? The fact that Mister Park's work has been stolen by the company partially led by a grieving past significant other must look like less of a coincidence and more like an act of revenge." How dare he use the words 'significant other'.

Miss Kang couldn't help but sigh as she took a quick look at Jihoon, an apologetic expression daunting on her face before she nodded. "Yes, Mister Yoon. You may continue. But try to keep emotional descriptions out of your statements, please," she advised him.

Jihoon lowered his head, taking a deep breath, "Shit." His mumble suddenly got your heart to skip up. You could feel it starting to pump much harder than before. In no possible way was his reaction a good sign. Wonwoo immediately noticed the change in atmosphere, turning towards you, to catch your side profile as you had closed your eyes and held your head down, trying to block out any of the words coming from Jeonghan or Chanyeol.

"The relationship was mostly very peaceful. I mean, just like every other couple, we had our quarrels and misunderstandings, but not much more than that." With a fake sigh, he looked at the jury, trying to paint his eyes with as much pain as possible before he continued. "Towards the end... it did get bad though... you know, I was always told that jealousy was healthy, at least a little bit, but it became quite extreme."

"From Miss Yoon?" Jeonghan nudged him.

"Yes," Chanyeol nodded. "I think me deciding to end things possibly left her in quite a hole-"

Jihoon shot up again. "Objection! Hearsay, your honour."

The judge nodded, "Sustained. Mister Park, please don't interpret any of the defendant's emotions. Just answer Mister Yoon's questions directly." Her reaction made the CEOs smile. She nodded at Jihoon as he sat back down with a quick bow.

Jeonghan took a deep breath. "I would just like to ask the jury to take Mister Park's side of this story into consideration."

"I'm sure they will, Mister Yoon." Miss Kang sent him a tight smile before leaning back in her chair.

Jeonghan dismissed himself as Exodus' CEO was asked to sit down by the table again.

It was now or never.

Only a year ago, you would tell yourself it wasn't worth it to fight back. That Chanyeol was much more powerful than you. Whatever you'd say would be just pushed under the rug. No one would care what you'd have to say. But not now. You had three people right next to you, ready to support whatever you would be stating out there. You had a judge who would patiently listen to you. There was an entire jury that was possibly still undecided. But most importantly, you had yourself and the truth. You had the facts. You knew what was right and what was wrong. Why should the bad guys win just because you didn't even dare to stand up? Too many times, people have let moments like these just pass. Not again. Not now. They couldn't win. You wouldn't let them win. This was for all the women he had hurt. Each woman that decided against facing him in court, but was strong enough to give their statements. You couldn't let them down. They helped you to get so far, now it was your turn.

"Well then," Miss Kang's voice glided through the room. "If there's nothing else to say anymore, I-"

"Excuse me, you honour." Suddenly you could feel each pair of eyes on your form. Each member of the jury had their face turned towards you. Judge Kang's eyebrows raised at the surprised interruption. Sehun, Chanyeol, and Jeonghan unexpectedly looked up, shock written all across their face. Mingyu and Jihoon had lifted their heads to look at you while Wonwoo's hand subconsciously had reached out right, ready to pull you back, unsure of what you were getting yourself into and surprised by your sudden exclaim.

"Yes, Miss Yoon?"

You swallowed the forming gulp in your throat. "I... I still would like to say something. Mister Lee still has to question me."

She nodded. "Of course, would you like to come out?" With her palm, she motioned to the witness stand seat to her left, to which you agreed, pushing your chair back gently before getting the bag off the back. Opening it, the folder you were looking for was already smiling at you. You got it out, opened it to get what you needed and made your way forward. As you passed Jihoon, who had stood up, you came to a halt.

"Ask me everything," you met his eyes. "Every little thing you need to know to win this, okay?"

Your eyes may have fooled you, but you could almost see fear forming in the man's eyes as he took the paper you had given him, nodding at you as he still tried to comprehend what you were asking of him. With big steps and a proud stance, you held your shoulders straight and made your way over to the witness stand seat.

You took a deep breath as soon as you sat down to calm your nerves that, you were sure, would not vanish any time soon.

"Miss Yoon," Jihoon's voice made you straighten your back as you looked up. All eyes were on you. Your heart was threatening to pump out of your chest at this point. You ignored all the other people in the room. You tried to. Keeping your eyes on the lawyer, that's what he had told you. "How would you describe your relationship with Mister Park?"

"Objection!" Jeonghan shot up from his chair. "Asked and answered."

"Not from Miss Yoon," Jihoon turned towards their table as the Judge agreed with him.

"Overruled. The defendants have yet to speak about this matter. You were given the opportunity, now it's their turn." Explaining the definition of fairness. "Mister Lee, please continue."

"Thank you, Your Honour." Jihoon sent in an encouraging smile. "So Miss Yoon, how would you describe your relationship with Mister Park?"

"Pretty normal in the beginning. Quiet. Private."

"In the beginning?"

You clutched the edge piece of one of the papers in front of you. "Yes."

"Could you please go into detail why only in the beginning?"

"Objection!" Jeonghan called out once again. "Leading question-"

"Overruled," Miss Kang interrupted him before he could even continue. "The defendant specifically mentioned 'in the beginning', so Mister Lee has the right to question her further. Please continue, Miss Yoon." Making the other lawyer sit back down with a sigh and you nod.

"Well... ehm...," you were well aware of your pauses possibly only bringing negative attention onto you, yet you couldn't help it as you tried to form the right sentences in your head. "It seemed like a perfectly normal relationship at first, but... I noticed that his behaviour started changing."

"Changing? In what way?"

"Objection! Compound question."

Judge Kang sighed into the microphone. "Overruled. Mister Lee repeated one word, then followed up with his actual question. Please continue."

You took a deep breath, waiting for Jihoon's assuring nod to answer.

"At first, it started out as jealousy. Or so I thought... later on, about a few months into the relationship... it turned into... something more controlling."

"Could you elaborate on that?" He wondered kindly.

"Yes...," you answered, glancing down at the pieces of evidence you were holding in your hands. Copies of which Jihoon had in his own grip. "At first, he asked me to not leave the house without him- I'm sorry, I meant the apartment we shared." Jihoon nodded along. "Whenever I wouldn't obey to that or... other times when I'd get home later than expected from work... he...," you took a pause. Gulped. Took a shaky breath. Not here. "He would get... really angry."

"How would he show his anger?" He was asking you each question softly, carefully. Understanding the sensitivity as soon as his eyes had landed on the file.

Almost bored, Jeonghan raised his hand, "Objection! Relevance."

Jihoon turned towards the judge. "I think, if we hear my client out, we'd see how relevant her answer is in comparison to Mister Park's comments about their past relationship."

Judge Kang nodded. "I agree. Overruled. Miss Yoon, please continue."

Another unstable breath left your lips. "It was- I mean, differently. At first... it was screaming. Then..." You hadn't even bothered putting on nail polish, so you only had your nails left to pick at. "Then... he'd start to... get physical... sometimes... yeah," you whispered at the end.

"Was there any time you felt truly threatened by Mister Park?"

"Yeah...," you admitted. If some jury members had lost interest in the case, at least by now, everyone's attention was back on track. You could hear a hairpin drop. Each breath you took shook the entire room. "There were... occurrences... when I had to go to the hospital. Because... ehm... he..." careful with your words. "He touched me... without my consent."

Biting down on his lip, Jihoon was careful with each word. "Do you have any evidence of this?"

You decided to only nod, as the security kept a close eye on you, noticing you lifting the papers you were clutching onto with your entire being. He went up to you to take them out of your possession, handing them over to the judge as she asked you to continue while going over the doctor's letter. It was the one piece of hospital evidence you had kept from that time. Everything else seemed irrelevant to you as most of the bruises you had showed up with to the hospital could be explained by hitting your knee or arm against furniture. But not this. But there was a second page to it.

"Miss Yoon," Jihoon started again. "You were admitted to the hospital once before, is that correct? Due to a car crash, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes," you spoke out loud.

"Who was driving the car at that time?"

"Mister Park," you answered honestly, knowing that he was reading every piece of evidence off the paper you had handed to him.

Jihoon nodded, now turning to the woman sitting on the highest chair in the room. "Your honour, if you turn to page two of the piece of evidence you were just handed, you can see the doctor's findings, as well as the police report on page three, after the car crash, involving Park Chanyeol and Yoon Y/N. The police stated it was a crash caused by a drunk driver, that being Mister Park. In which he sustained a mild head injury, while Miss Yoon had to be transported to the hospital due to a broken rib and a bruised leg." After a quick look behind him, he turned back to the judge. "If I'm seeing correctly, this document was signed within the walls of this very courthouse. And yet... it has been deleted completely from Mister Park's file."

You decided to stay quiet. You had done your job. You couldn't even look up, knowing disappointed eyes were probably just waiting for you. You had lied to him. Lied to Wonwoo about the scar on your rib. You had mentioned it was due to an injury from falling at the playground as a kid. He brushed it off to be never spoken about it again. And now this.

"So, the all so happy relationship, Mister Park swore to have had with the defendant... doesn't seem to have been all that peaceful after all. That was all, thank you." He bowed before walking back from his spot, joining Wonwoo and Mingyu by the table again.

The all-along so quiet room suddenly shifted as the jury turned to each other to speak at a normal volume, ignoring the room they were still sitting in. Even Jeonghan, who had held back with his objection towards the end, was quick to turn to Chanyeol, who was already raising his voice, standing up to defend himself.

Before it could all escalate too much, Judge Kang got a hold of her hammer, pounding it against the wood to calm the room. "Quiet!" Each person reacted instantly, getting back into their seats, with their eyes on her.

"We will take a ten-minute break. In the meantime, I will go over these documents. The jury is advised to console each other, but not yet come to a conclusion. We will go over everything after the short break, okay? You're dismissed." With one final hit of the hammer, almost everyone stood up. The jury left the room immediately. Chanyeol had pushed himself off the chair aggressively, rushing out as Jeonghan was hot on his heel. Miss Kang passed you quietly while you stood back up, trying to find your breath to face your group of people again.

Before you had even reached them, Jihoon was already in front of you. "What was that? Are you okay?" But you only nodded. "Are you sure?" He asked again. This time, you smiled.

"Yeah..." a faint whisper left your lips as you could suddenly feel your chest lifting again. The tears that had formed vanished all of a sudden, leaving you with a lighter chest and satisfaction rushing through your body.

"Wh-" Mingyu tried to jump into the conversation, but the lawyer stopped him.

"We should maybe continue this outside."

You all nodded along with him, getting ready to leave the room for the break when a voice behind you made you turn around.

"Y/N." Sehun called out for you. He leaned against the desk slightly awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands as he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." If only he knew how much he had helped you. With two big steps, you stopped right in front of him, not even giving him a second to react as you threw your arms around him, pulling him in. He seemed to be taken aback, but you quickly felt his hand patting your back, making you lean back, leaving him to breathe freely again.

"Thank you," you smiled at him before turning back to the three other men who were patiently waiting for you.

-

The three of you had been standing and sitting around in the hallway of the courthouse for the past three minutes and Wonwoo was yet to say something. Jihoon had exclaimed his concerns for you, Mingyu had asked you around ten times if you were truly okay and after assuring him that you had truly never felt better, he had decided to sit down next to you. The CEO was still standing by the wall, looking straight ahead while not really focusing on anything in particular.

As the lawyer and the second CEO had fallen into a conversation, you chose to leave them alone and join Wonwoo. Standing up, you patted down invisible creases on your blouse, getting closer and closer to him with each step you took. Instead of joining him by standing at his side, you stopped right in front of him.

Looking up, he didn't even dare to meet your eyes. He just continued to stare straight ahead. There was an unreadable expression on his face, making you want to step around him as carefully as possible to not disturb whatever was going on in his head. As cold as the entire building of the old courthouse was, the only chill rushing down your spine was due to his glance.

As soon as you tried to open your mouth, he beat you to it. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" At the same time, he lowered his gaze towards you, meeting your pleading eyes, begging him to talk to you. "About what he did."

With a sigh, you let your head hang as you looked to the ground. With a deep breath, you got the courage to speak to him as you interlocked your glances. "I told you, I wanted to forget everything involving him."

"Yeah, but you can't just forget something like that."

"Well, I tried, okay?!" You suddenly found yourself with a raised voice, surprising both of you, as well as Mingyu and Jihoon, who took a quick look at the two of you but continued their conversation once Wonwoo's cold eyes met theirs. "You really think I want to dwell on such a horrible memory of a man? He was a person I once trusted, and he used that trust and misused me! Of course, I'd want to forget that!" You hissed a breath in and out, lowering your voice again. "But what kind of person would I be if I had just let him portray himself as a victim while fifteen other women made a statement about him sexually harassing them... huh? I was able to live with what happened to me, but he... he hurt SO MANY other women... I- I couldn't just let that pass. If none of them wants to face him, fine. But I have the chance, and don't take it?..." With a sigh, you ended your rant. "I couldn't live with myself after that."

He let the silence linger between you for a short moment as he straightened his back, looking at you again. "How long have you planned on doing this? Why didn't you involve me? Or Jihoon at least? Or for whatever reason maybe even Mingyu?"

"Up until that idiot opened his mouth to talk about me, I wasn't even sure that I was going to do it. But... I had to. And I had to do it alone. Do you know how good that feels now?" A chuckle of relief tumbled from your lips as you couldn't hold back your smile. "They have every piece of evidence they need to... fine him, take away his company, put him behind bars or God knows what."

"Come here," he whispered as he took a step forward and opened his arms. You didn't move though. You continued to stand still, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you glanced up at him.

"I don't want a hug." Your comment told him that you would still be mad at him for not understanding your reasoning. But that didn't stop him. With another step, he had invaded your room, engulfing you in the warmth of his arms you had come to find comfort in during so many nights. Once he noticed you weren't moving, he leaned down just a slight bit closer to your ear.

"I'm proud of you," he spoke quietly, making sure only you would be able to hear those words he had chosen for just you. "But I was worried."

With a sigh, you gave in, wrapping your arms around his slim, yet muscle-packed, torso, getting a relieved sigh from him in return.

Before any of you were able to truly enjoy the short moment of intimacy, Mingyu's loud voice rang through your ears.

"Group hug!" With heavy steps, he rushed over to you two, throwing his big arms over your shoulders, underestimating his weight, making you grunt out loud. You could feel Wonwoo's annoyance radiating off him, to which you couldn't help but chuckle, which was quickly joined by Jihoon doing the exact same.

"You don't even know if we won and yet you're celebrating." He approached you with his hands hiding in his pockets, watching you with bright eyes and a wide grin.

"Who cares if we won," Mingyu commented, almost getting interrupted by his best friend, who opened his mouth but was stopped by the slightly bigger man. "Y/N got to say what she needed to say. Park will get what he deserves. Whether that involves our case or not, I really don't care at this point, to be honest."

With a deep sigh, the older man nodded. "That's very cute and I understand that, and Y/N, you know that I support you, but I still have a job here to finish and if we don't win this case... you can fire me."

"We won't fire you," Wonwoo, now behind you, with his palm once again placed comfortably on your lower back.

"No, no," Jihoon glanced at him. "I am begging you to fire me if we don't win this, do you understand me?" Getting a roll of his eyes from the older CEO, while Mingyu just chuckled, patting the smaller man's shoulder assuringly.

Your exchange of words was interrupted by one of the security men that had been standing inside throughout the entire sitting, who was suddenly standing in the hallway.

"Judge Kang is asking you to come back inside, we'll continue." The four of you nodded in synch, each taking one last deep breath in. One last time. Hopefully.

But before any of you could even take one step forward, a shrill voice called out.

"Hold on! Just a minute!" Jeonghan rushed towards you from around the corner, your eyes quickly finding his. "Y/N, a word, please." Motioning at you to follow him.

Your eyebrows shot up at the sudden demand. In what world did he imagine you'd go out of your way to suddenly follow his lead.

"Whatever you have to say to her, you can say here as well." Wonwoo's deep voice vibrated through your entire body. You noticed the microscopic step he took closer as you felt his chest brush against your arm.

Jeonghan shook his head, clearly irritated by the men surrounding you. "Could I please talk to my cousin in private?" Looking straight at the man behind you, expecting another snark from him, when you spoke up.

"No." You crossed your arms in front of your chest in defence. Your body knew which stance to take in right away.

He had betrayed you. You hadn't heard from him in years before you met him in the courtroom again. And out of all the people there were in the world, he chose to support the man you had sworn off your life. The man with the name you had tried to scratch out of every piece of skin on your body that he had touched. A betrayer, a traitor, and a manipulator. That's who Jeonghan was. Quite fitting to Chanyeol. Two fucked-up halves that would make a deadly whole.

"I'm sorry."

...

...

With quiet stares, each one of you looked straight ahead. No one was fully sure of what words had just hit their ear. The movement of his mouth could've possibly been an illusion. That seemed more likely than an actual apology coming from his lips.

"What?" You were the one to break the silence. Instinctively, Wonwoo's hand travelled to the left, his fingers gently curling around your waist.

The step Jeonghan took forward was welcomed as none of you decided to move backwards, letting him know he could continue.

He sighed. "I... I didn't know... about... you know... that." With a stressed breath in, he continued. "When I took on this case, he told me the exact same thing he had told you and the judge. With our history, it didn't take much convincing for me. I knew you and him were... yeah- anyways- but... I swear, I had no idea."

Still unphased by his apology, he resumed his ramble.

"I know you don't think much of me, but not even I would go this low to support someone like that.. and I know that... that- this apology or whatever probably won't mean anything to you-"

"Good that you know that," Wonwoo commented, but Jeonghan chose to ignore him.

"But I mean it. He just confessed everything to me. This is the first time I'm hearing about all of this... and... I can't- and I won't support that. I don't need you to forgive me, I know that won't happen instantly. But I swear to God, Y/N, you can think whatever you want of me, but please don't ever think I'd ever support a guy like that." He took another step forward. "When the accident happened, I heard that you got hit by a drunk driver. Not that... he was the drunk driver."

Still, no words from you, nor Mingyu or Jihoon.

"Anyway," Jeonghan sighed and got ready to turn around, the open doors still waiting for all of you. "I'm sorry." With those last words, he disappeared again, leaving your party in the cold hallway. In silence.

"Oh, wow..."

You couldn't hold back your scoff as you took a step forward, letting Wonwoo's hand drop to his side.

"He didn't mean any of that." You rolled your eyes.

"Huh?" Mingyu's eyebrows shot up as he glanced at you, his puppy eyes reflecting the light perfectly.

"You can't believe anything coming from that guy's mouth." You explained, still not entertaining the possibility of there being any good intentions behind your cousin's actions.

The younger CEO was still confused. "Then why did he say he was sorry?"

"To manipulate us maybe? Make us feel guilty? Give in?" Jihoon thought out loud, joining you and turning around to face the other two men. "Y/N, I wouldn't believe anything he said. She would know." Everyone nodded in synch.

Wonwoo nudged his head towards the door, where the security man was still waiting for you. "Let's get this over with."

-

Each person involved was back in the room. Exodus Entertainment was on the right table, while you and the guys were sitting on the left one. The jury of the very far right side, sitting along the wall was already gazing at you - excitement and interest radiating off them. Judge Kang was back in her seat, her glasses low on the bridge of her nose as she quietly went through the papers in front of her again, which seemed to have gotten more over the break.

If you thought your heart had been pumping hard earlier, while you were seated on the witness stand, it was safe to say, it was about to explode once you had entered the room again. Right where you had left your fear behind.

"Alright," Miss Kang started, taking off her glasses with a deep breath as she let her fingers rake through her hair. "Before we start, does the plaintiff or the defendant have anything to say? You may speak now."

You exchanged glances with Jihoon, who shook his head, telling you to keep low, but your attention was quickly taken away once Jeonghan left his chair to stand up, buttoning his suit jacket and raising his hand.

"Your Honour."

Miss Kang sighed with a forced smile. "Yes, Mister Yoon?"

"May I come forward?"

"Yes, you may."

Each pair of eyes in the room followed him as you abandoned the confused faces of Sehun and Chanyeol, making his way to the middle of the room and the podium. Either time moved painfully slowly, or he moved in slow motion, but either way, the pace was too slow, and you could feel the scream of frustration boiling up in your throat.

Jeonghan cleared his throat and straightened his back. Here we go.

"Your Honour. After consoling my client, we have come to an agreement that I would like to exclaim now."

"Please do," the judge commented on his statement.

"My client, Exodus Entertainment, would like to withdraw their lawsuit against Oksan & Co."

The room fell quiet. This lasted for a second before the next round of tumult rushed through it.

"Excuse me, Mister Yoon?" Miss Kang raised her voice in order to speak over the hushed sounds coming from the jury on the right side. Your eyes were frantically moving from side to side, trying to catch any reaction so you'd know which one to share.

"With immediate effect, Exodus Entertainment takes back each claim made against the defendant Oksan & Co."

Your head immediately shot to Jihoon who kept his gaze straight on Jeonghan, his mouth slightly agape as he was still trying to grasp the situation.

"What's going on here?" You could hear Mingyu whisper from your left, only to be interrupted by the loud voice of Chanyeol slashing through the uproar.

"Your honour-"

Jeonghan cut him off. "My client, Park Chanyeol, also pledges guilty to the charges made against him-"

The sudden knock of wood-on-wood, thanks to the Judge's hammer, let the room calm down again. Chanyeol chose to keep standing up while Sehun leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk making its way onto his face. The jury immediately quieted down along with your group, who still had to let more words drop than Mingyu just had. Jeonghan stood still on the podest.

"Mister Yoon," with the hammer still in her hand, Miss Kang started talking. "Are you aware of what you are doing right now? This will have an immediate effect."

"Yes, your Honour. I am very sorry for the waste of time and patience."

"Your Honour!" Chanyeol raised his hand hastily. "May I speak to my lawyer for a second?"

"Oh," your cousin lowered his head slightly, his voice loud and clear echoing through the speakers. "With immediate effect, I am also withdrawing from my role as Mister Park's lawyer. Thank you." Without another word, Jeonghan took a step back and turned around. After a quick glance in your direction and a tight smile, he passed your tables, only to take a seat on one of the benches behind you, usually preserved for public interests.

Judge Kang didn't even try to hide the amusement making her lips curl into a grin.

"Wow," she chuckled lowly, "Well," she cleared her throat, intertwining her fingers on top of the wooden surface. "Mister Park, you don't seem to have a lawyer to talk to anymore. Anything else you'd like to say?"

You zoned out whatever sorry excuse of an answer he gave her as you turned around, finding Jeonghan's eyes already boring a hole into your head.

"What are you doing?" You whispered, hoping he'd be able to read your lips. You only got a small smile and a nod in return.

"Mister Park-"

"This is a shitshow! What kind of fucking bullshit is this here?!"

"Mister Park, let m-"

"How the fuck is he even allowed to do that?!"

"Mister-"

"I swear to God, I will fucking sue every-"

"Security!" 

Miss Kang's final string of patience officially broke as she called out for one of the men on the side to step in. They acted quickly as two rushed up to each side of Chanyeol's big form which had made its way to the middle of the courtroom, getting dangerously close to the judge.

"You can't do-"

"I can, and I did," she simply told him, making him shut his mouth immediately before she quickly continued, putting her glasses back on as she read out loud. "Mister Park, I will see you again in five days as you will be facing twelve charges of sexual harassment, four charges of sexual assault, forgery of state-protected documents, as well as now contempt of court." She sent a smile his way. "We will speak again. Get him out of my courtroom." Before he was pushed out of the room through a door on the left wall.

Only then were you able to realise what had just happened. You could feel everyone take in a deep breath as soon as he had left the courtroom.

"What... what just happened?" Jihoon hushed underneath his breath, his hands placed on the top of his table as he glanced around the room.

"Well," the judge smiled into the crowd. "Each day, you experience something new." She paused for a second before continuing. "May the defendant please rise."

Still slightly out of it, you felt Wonwoo's tug by your elbow, pushing you to stand up. You joined the other three, staring straight ahead as Miss Kang spoke to you.

"With immediate effect, you are acquitted as the lawsuit of theft and forgery filed by Exodus Entertainment has been dropped." She glanced up from her notes to smile at you. "You are excused. Congratulations."

What was she congratulating for? You didn't win...

You didn't lose, but yet you didn't win... at least it didn't feel like you did. This was the end. The end of it all. Why didn't it feel like it?

You must've overheard Jihoon thanking the judge as you were suddenly escorted out of the room, your bag not even on your shoulder, but in Wonwoo's grip as you left the room altogether. Each bench you passed, and even walking through the doors, back into the hallway could almost be described as a fever dream. The sudden turn of tables and twist of fate felt too good to be true and too much for your own body to handle. It didn't feel right.

"What the fuck was that?!" Wonwoo immediately exclaimed the second you had left the room. "What just happened?!"

Jihoon raised his hands in defence, just as speechless as everyone else. "I- I wish I could tell you."

"What was that move from Yoon?" Mingyu interjected, only getting shrugs in return. "So did he mean what he said?" Another round of shrugs.

A nudge on your arm brought you back. "Hey, you okay?" It was Jihoon. You nodded.

"What the hell happened?" You could only repeat what everyone else was also thinking. "Wh-" You stopped yourself as you were still pretty much unable to form full sentences.

Each one of you had their eyes on different corners of the hallway. Mingyu was focused on the wall, his hand continuously running through his hair. Wonwoo had his arms crossed in front of his chest as he walked up and down a short distance along the side. And Jihoon had chosen to sit down, his head in his hand as he took deep and clear breaths in. You were leaning against the wall, eyes switching between each person while you still tried to find the grasp on reality again.

"From my understanding now," the lawyer started. "Jeonghan turned his back on them... I guess... he maybe wasn't lying in the first place?"

"That's impossible," you scoffed.

"Why?" Jihoon wondered.

You shrugged. "Because that's not who he is."

"Is that what you think of me," your cousin's familiar voice made you turn to the side, taking a step back instantly to create a bigger distance between you two. He shook his head with a chuckle. "I know we've never been on good terms, but God... I wouldn't wish stuff like that upon my worst enemy. Why would I celebrate it happening to my cousin?"

"I'm not saying you celebrated it," you stated.

"Alright," he took a step to the side. "And I'm not going to support a fucking asshole as stupid as him." He found your eyes. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry." Maybe one day you'll be able to believe that he's not the total asshole you had always thought he was. Maybe. Just maybe.

He turned around, bowing his head to each one of you before making his way down the hall, leaving the hell of a building in the past.

"Jeonghan!" You stopped him by the call his name, making him turn around. You pushed yourself forward, stopping right next to Wonwoo.

"Thank you." It may not have been much, but at that point in time, it was all you could've given him.

A smile and a nod later your cousin vanished out the doors, the group of journalists you had already forgotten about immediately swarmed him, leaving almost no room to breathe.

It wasn't a lot, but it was a start. A slow one, but a start. With the memory of the past still in the back of your hand, you were able to thank him for what he had done, but that was about it for now. Yes, there was no deeper reason as to why he had done what he did, at least that from where you stood, but the past would still haunt you for quite a while. A past you no longer had to share with the devil himself though. He was brought to justice. You did it. Not you alone, you were very well aware of that. You saw what a group of united people could do. You watched justice get served. The right decisions were made.

"Well then," Wonwoo sighed out loud. "What does that mean for us now?" The question was clearly directed at Jihoon who had made his way to stop in front of you.

He shrugged. "There's still definitely a lot of paperwork due. All the claims were dropped, but I'm gonna make sure there's no involvement of any of you in his future charges, especially with Y/N." You thanked him with a nod. "But for now," he took a deep breath as his lips curled. "I'd say we did it."

"Why doesn't it feel as satisfying as it should be?" Mingyu suddenly wondered as he showed up on your left.

"Once you see him on TV being escorted behind bars, you'll feel it," the lawyer assured him, getting a chuckle from each of you in return.

"Alright," the older CEO clapped his hands after handing you back your over-the-shoulder bag. His eyes travelled to Mingyu, glancing at him over your head.

"Drinks?" The younger one threw into the room, getting a groan of satisfaction from Jihoon in return.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Shocking you with his choice of words.

You chuckled at the reaction that followed from the others, watching the pep in his step with amusement.

A hand on your shoulder made you look up to your right. The usual so cold eyes, suddenly turned warm, were already looking at you.

"Drinks?" His voice in his usual depth, sent a wave of warmth into your cheeks.

You bit down on your lip, trying to hide the smile on your face. A faint thought erupted from the depths of your memory. Something you had almost dared to forget. 

"There's one more thing I'd like to do."

Thank you for reading my loves🫶🏼

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[nyxvamps]

we know that all the demigods are on the neurodivergent spectrum but i think their godly parents are all also on that spectrum.

zeus stims with his bolt by tapping his nails against the edge or knocking it against his knee. he has accidentally zapped hera and others at least every other meeting. he also hyperfixates on how mortals can predict the weather. he secretly thinks it’s really neat.

poseidon has to have curtains over the windows in his meeting room because he will look up every 5 seconds whenever a fish swims by. he also picks at his nails and taps his feet when he’s thinking hard. he also can get random bursts of energy that stops him from sleeping every few nights before he collapses since he’ll use this time to get as much done as possible.

hades will pretend to listen when he has an audience in his throne room but is actually counting the souls within his robes for the 100th time. he also clicks his tongue whenever he’s thinking about something. eye contact is rather way to much or none at all. he has not figured out the right balance for that yet.

apollo vocally stims. what do you think all of his random poetry is? he’ll also hum the same 10 seconds of a song over and over for days on end. and he’ll shimmy in place when he stands still for too long. he also has some rsd (rejection sensitivity disorder, i think that’s the name) so when people make jokes about his poetry or music, he gets genuinely upset. he’ll pretend it’s all fine though.

athena actually has executive dysfunction and will sometimes have to literally force herself (with her godly powers) to accomplish the to-do list she made for the day. she also rehearses what she says to others before she has to speak with them. it’s easier to make sure she doesn’t make any mistakes.

hermes almost has something like the zoomies. he’ll take a few minutes and go run a few laps and stim (usually flapping his hands or stomping) before he needs to deliver his next package. he might take a second to jump up and down for a bit to get his energy out.

hephaestus created hyperfixation. whether it’s a new invention or a topic he heard one of his kids mention. he will not stop focusing on it for months if not years. since time works differently for gods anyways. he also can get very apathetic so he has to remind himself how to interact with others so he doesn’t offend them with a blunt comment or a lack of interest. (i’m not projecting at all)

aphrodite uses her makeup and hair as an excuse to stim. she’ll fix up her hair or makeup every for minutes for a reason to move her hands. she and ares have a deal where he’ll let her know if someone is being sarcastic because, unless she’s doing it or it’s very obvious, she can’t recognize it.

demeter genuinely likes plant life more than other people. (don’t blame her) it’s a little cliche that her special interest would be her domain but she genuinely loves to learn about plants. she’ll even look into the ways that mortals study and understand plants.

ares has major rsd (rejection sensitivity disorder). when he’s told to wait a second or if someone has to reschedule something, it really gets to him even though he logically knows that it doesn’t mean they hate him now (again, not projecting at all). this is a big reason for why he is so blunt and aggressive with others (in the pjo universe) bc the less people he’s close too, the less people can push him away. (i’m talking about his kids, specifically)

Mr. D likes to drink wine for the mouth feel. he likes how tart and sour wines make the inside of his mouth feel tight (projection). he also only has 2 demigod children (in canon) bc he doesn’t like the thought of having 3 because it’ll make the number uneven. and then with more kids, since he’s at camp, that’s more people he has to be emotionally available for.

this is just my opinion. i just think they’re neat.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the fact that gojo genuinely wanted to teach him about love…… that he wanted to reach out to him and save him from his isolation.

YES!! the whole "i will remember you.." HAS ME FUCKED UP like. there's a few ways it could be interpreted but it gives me the same feeling as when you 'love' someone so much, you honour or cherish the memory of them forever.. AHHHHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

thank you ari for the link <33 when i read the chapter I will be back to let you know my thoughts and feelings :3 I have so many photos in my camera roll of just me sobbing after jjk so :3 definitely scared :3 With 252.. you're very right it's really sad that it's actually quite far from how detailed Gege likes his fights to be. Art style and breaks are on two different spectrums. Complaining about him taking breaks is the biggest NO from me. like PLEASE let Gege release a chapter a month. Every single week is WAY too much for a mangaka - there's only so much a person can do within 6 days :// From a pure quality and marketing standpoint it'll allow him to : process his OWN thoughts, more detailed drawings and (longer) chapters, perhaps even formulate a proper plan for the manga, and the hype will be bigger as well. Especially right now where it is getting criticism and being called repetitive - there is less hype because everyone knows they'll get answers in the next week. But most importantly REST. he is not a machine and you are very right about that!!

something to look forward to :3 (tbf i was especially into it bc i love takaba and kenny lmao but i still think you’ll find it fun!! you can tell akutami was having a blast)

also!! i just thought I'd let you know.. i never really got kenny (kenny is so messed up and i dislike(d) them) but you're the blog that made me understand the lore!! and I even started reading some kenny fics.. Anyways, i think that's enough for today and I'll shut up now haha!! <33

OHHHHH ANON WE’RE HOLDING HANDS OUR BRAINS ARE SMOOCHING

i agree completely 🫂 when i saw that line i kept thinking of sukuna like. centuries into the future…. in a completely different world ….. STILL remembering gojo and no one else. it’s such a wonderful fucking line not only because sukuna looks so sincerely pleased saying it but because it’s proof that gojo DID reach him!!!! gojo wanted to prevent sukuna from feeling alone and he succeeded because sukuna will never truly be alone as long as he’s carrying gojo’s memory with him. they make me insane

PLS DO SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER ONCE YOU READ IT …. i’d love love love to hear!!!! :3 take your time though… get your tissues ready……. aaa and !!! 100% agree on the monthly chapters. that should just be a standard atp but sadly it isn’t…. :ccc i rlly do think gege deserves one long longgggg break to rest up properly.

also!! i just thought I'd let you know.. i never really got kenny (kenny is so messed up and i dislike(d) them) but you're the blog that made me understand the lore!! and I even started reading some kenny fics..

ALSO THIS !!!!!!!! ANON…….. T_T this made me so happy you have NO idea. i’m so glad i could turn you around on him!!! he’s such a silly, interesting, fun little guy :’3 (very fucked up too but that’s just another charm point imo) and aaa the kenny fics !! the world needs sm more of those … i’m working on a no curses au fic for him but i have no idea when it’s getting out …… </3 hopefully soon!!!! anyway pdhdjdj i’m just so happy that you’re a kenny enjoyer now!! welcome to the cult club !!!! 🫂🫂

[tortoisebore]

Fluffy prompt- how would wolfstar propose to eachother?

hmmmmm okay okay

big ole disclaimer before we begin: i got a similar ask a few weeks ago that i’ve been ruminating over for so long bc i have my own biases and opinions about marriage that aren’t always positive. so i tried to work around that with this because 1. i don’t want to write something negative and cynical when someone sends a prompt that’s meant to be sweet and heartwarming, and 2. marriage can be beautiful and wonderful and it means a lot to people that do value it. so like….,that’s where i’m coming from and my cynicism might come through in this a bit even though i’ve tried to look at it from a better, less biased perspective. it turned out pretty long and kind of all over the place, but i hope that it hit somewhere close to where you wanted it 🫶🫶🫶

so part of me thinks they’d either get engaged & married after three months of dating or like…..ten years. no in between. but in this case let’s make it easier on ourselves so we don’t have to get into lots of plot and say they’ve been together-together for……three years. like properly real-relationship-in-love-living-together kind of together for three years.

obviously their histories and past experiences play a part in both their relationship and their desire to get married, so i think they’d be coming at it from different places and do a lot of existential late-night working through how their views and hang-ups are different and how they’re the same and how they can make it work for them

remus grew up with parents that loved each other in a reserved way—they got married young and had to work through a lot together, like raising a kid and financial struggles and points of tension within their families over the years. but there was never any doubt that they loved each other and they always treated each other with this kindness and gentleness and care that remus admired. so he has this view of marriage that’s like “life is hard but we’re in it together, we’re a team and we’ll get through anything that might come up.” there’s some lingering fear that maybe he’s not enough to be someone that anyone wants to spend the rest of their life with, especially sirius, but their relationship is good and stable and healthy and they genuinely enjoy each other’s company beneath all of it. they love each other and they have a good foundation, and to him it feels like the right next step for them to take together

but sirius did not grow up with that kind of stability at home, he did not have that practical, positive view of marriage because his entire family tree was riddled with arranged marriages and affairs and and resentment for spouses. his parents were indifferent towards each other at best and spiteful at worst, they barely interacted except to fight with each other or with him, and it was clear very early on that he’d be expected to marry some second cousin and have kids and carry on the bloodline. so he grew up with this fear of what marriage was going to mean for him—something based on convenience and not love, that he’d be trapped with someone he resented—and it wasn’t until he’d left and had time to process and start to heal from all of it that he even considered the idea that he could marry whoever he wanted, now.

so he’s in this great relationship and he loves remus, and remus loves him, and it’s more than he ever thought he would be allowed to have. and sometime after their first anniversary they’re at home and remus is like “would you ever want to get married?” and sirius is like “……👁️👄👁️ would i WHAT??::?:?” and remus is like “no no wait i’m not proposing sirius i’m just asking.” and it’s a task get it out of him, but eventually sirius tells remus all about what getting married means to him, how he learned to be afraid of it early on and still struggles to see it as something good. and internally remus is kind of like “oh,” because he’d really love to marry sirius and have a life together that goes beyond sirius just being his boyfriend. and somewhere deep down he’s worried that this means sirius doesn’t want to fully commit to him, that he loves sirius more than sirius loves him and they’re not on the same page as far as the whole ‘i want to spend my life with you’ thing goes, but sirius shuts that down fast.

they end that first conversation in a better place, where remus trusts that sirius’ aversion to marriage comes from his past and not anything to do with their relationship, and sirius believes remus when he says that he understands and that he’s content with the way things are

so over the next year they keep on as usual, things are still good and they’re still obsessively into each other and sickeningly in love. but sirius has been thinking about it in the back of his mind for a long time, and remus is nice and doesn’t pressure him to talk about it but sirius has got this idea in his head that getting married means security. it means that remus won’t leave him, that they’ll be together forever, and that sounds more like what he wants. and the more he thinks about it the more he starts to get panicky that remus will leave if they don’t get married, because he obviously wants to, so he brings it up again.

they’re at home on a random saturday morning and they’ve just finished breakfast and remus is reading at the table and having his third coffee of the day and sirius goes “what do you think about getting married?” and remus looks up and goes “😶….what do you mean?” because they haven’t really talked about this in a few months but he knows that sirius knows he would like to get married eventually, and sirius is acting nonchalant about it but remus knows something is off. so he’s like “where’s this coming from?” and sirius is all casual and shrugs and says “nowhere i was just wondering.” and again it takes a lot of work but remus finally gets him to crack and tell him what he’s been thinking, that he’s afraid remus isn’t satisfied or that he’s going to leave if they don’t get married. and that’s what it is, he realizes—somewhere in the time since they last talked about it, sirius has started to see marriage as the only way to keep him around long-term, as the thing that will prevent them from breaking up, and as much as he wants to say ‘love it let’s do it’ and marry sirius, it’s not going to work if he’s seeing it as the only way to make sure remus won’t leave him.

so they have a Big Talk, and remus tells him the truth—that he’s in this thing for the long haul whether they get married or not and that he doesn’t need to get married to be happy together. it takes a lot of reassurance, but eventually sirius starts to come to terms with the idea that getting married doesn't have to do with the longevity of their relationship, or this idea of an extra layer of security. over the next few months they keep it on the back burner, bring it up every once in a while and work through any hang-ups they’re having or things that maybe still don’t make sense. and eventually remus learns to trust that sirius doesn’t want to marry him just to prevent him from leaving, and sirius comes around to the idea of it being another step forward in their relationship—a big one, but one that means they love each other, and they’re committed to each other in more ways than just ‘not breaking up.’

so it’s their third anniversary, and they’ve just gotten back home from a fancy dinner at this place in the city and they’re lying in bed and being disgustingly sweet, and sirius goes “i think i’d really like to marry you.” and remus’ little heart goes 💗💞💕✨💓🤩💫💓 and he turns over to look at him and goes “really?” and sirius smiles all soft and pretty and nods, and remus is ab to pinch himself and he’s all “you’re sure?” and sirius smiles bigger and nods again, and remus is ab to pass out maybe when sirius narrows his eyes and goes “i want a ring, though. and a proper proposal—a big one.” and that’s that.

so over the next couple of months remus plans, and despite what sirius said about wanting something big, he has a better idea.

it’s just a normal thursday night and sirius is coming home, he’s a little tired but it’s takeout night and he’s really craving the moroccan place down the street. he unlocks the door and kicks off his shoes and stops in his tracks because the living room light is off but there are candles lit, and there are rose petals on the floor like a corny hallmark movie and the love of his entire life is at the kitchen table, standing when sirius shuffles into the room all silent and wide-eyed, and remus goes “i know you said you wanted something big, but i thought this was better.” and sirius loves loves loves him, loves him so much he can’t breathe because he’s right—sirius had been all talk, all he really needed and wanted was remus and the little box he’s holding, and it feels right that this is happening in their home, the place that had seen every boring weeknight and slow morning after nights out, every fight and apology and hard conversation in between, all their laughter and joy and the disgusting amount of love that existed between them.

so remus goes off on a little spiel about how sirius his best friend and his favorite person and how much he likes him, how much he loves him, how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. and he’s only halfway down to one creaky knee before sirius is tackling him to the ground, knocking him off balance and punching all the breath out of his lungs and kissing all over his precious little face. and sirius might be crying a little bit but he’s laughing more, saying ‘i love you i love you i love you’ over and over and over and then they’re both cry-laughing. and then sirius remembers the ring and demands to see it, and they’re still on the floor of the living room when remus opens the little box and slips this pretty, simple little silver band with tiny stars engraved on the inside on his finger and sirius’ insides are going ✨🤩💗🤭🥰😁💓💕🫶🫠💞💕

but then he’s like ‘WAIT’ and runs out of the room and leaves remus on the ground and remus is all “……..hello” and then sirius is running back with his own little box, throwing himself back to the floor and grabbing remus’ left hand and pushing a thin gold ring onto his finger, and remus is ab to cry his fucking eyes out bc sirius is smiling so big and holding their left hands up next to each other. and then he looks closer and there’s a tiny little outline of a crescent moon on the side of his ring and then he is crying, like full on snot and tears crying, and then they’re both crying and having very weepy and disgustingly sappy sex on the floor

and after, remus orders from the moroccan place down the street and sirius calls everyone they know and screams into the phone about the power of everlasting love and that they want a new toaster as a wedding gift

which is how they end up with fourteen toasters six months later

[bygetoacademia]

100 days of productivity update

Well...

I didn't manage to get through even half of the challenge, but it's not the first thing I've failed at this year so it's fine. Maybe I'll try again next semester.

Gloomy yap sesh

Truth is I'm tired mentally. And I've been like this for a really long time, it has just amped up to great heights recently

It sucks watching myself lose interest in absolutely everything. I don't have the energy to talk to my favorite people. I haven't touched a book in ages. Anime is starting to be a lil boring. I don't react to any Suguru content. I scroll past satosugu videos on TikTok like they're ads... It really breaks my heart because I want to be interested in all of these but I'm not and that's that.

To make things a little bit worse, I caught a cold so I feel extra crappy and I can't smell anything, which means bath time therapy won't work. And it's that time of the month so the hormones are doing their thing and I'm at my absolute lowest rn.

It's times like these I wish I had somewhere to escape to. If I had enough balls I'd ask my cousin or one of my aunts to let me visit them just for a week to get some air. But I have negative balls so here I am yapping on Tumblr while eating the most tasteless rice of my life.

When I made the decision to move back home I asked myself one simple question: Money or Mental Health. After a few weeks of pondering I decided to go the money route because I thought I was a strong little girl but boy was I wrong!

Did I save some money? Yes! absolutely but I'm in shambles right now even the voices are concerned

Every time I try to bounce back with The Power of Positivity™ I get knocked down within an hour. I don't even want to bother anymore

"Why don't you talk to somebody" Idk, everybody has their own thing going on, big things as a matter of fact and me coming with my little issues might seem a little insulting to them.

Besides if I try talking to somebody around me they might:

Blank stare + I can't help you with this one

Say "that's bitch shit"

You're being dumb on purpose bc you know exactly what to do which is true but not necessarily simple

Do I feel better after this rant... Not necessarily

[chirpsythismorning]

Wow... 1 year filming. We are legit screwed but at least we might get new content or leaks, idk. Like idk abt you guys but i cannot wait another 2 years.

For me the first year of hiatus flew by. Vol 1 came out already about a year ago approx.? I feel like the same is going to apply to the next year.

And by that point filming will be wrapping up and s5 promo will finally start getting more ramped up. We could have a few tiny cryptic teasers by then, some episode titles. And who knows about the set/costume leak prospects...

I talked about this already, but the months leading up to it are filled with content dropping and it grows exponentially over time.

This time around will be unmatched too bc I think fans actually have a lot to go off of, more than we ever have with previous seasons. With s2-4 we were shooting in the dark. But now with s5 there's so much from s4 unaddressed that it's guaranteed to be re-addressed and so much was foreshadowed that fans have very likely predicted at least a few of the surprises (*cough* byler *cough*).

And so imagine promo that is proving/disproving a bunch of iconic theories, and experiencing that real time. Imagine smalltown boy or like lettergate being confirmed in a mere 10 second sneak peak? Cryptic instances like that along the way are the best!

We're going to be getting a lot of validation too during this time bc the Duffers will definitely want fans to go back and rewatch to be capable of appreciating whats to come for what it truly is, despite misunderstanding up to this point. I think as we get closer, they won't outright say things for certain, however, they are most definitely going to start blatantly alluding to the fact that they are smart and everything is in fact intentional. And so if we doubted them, that's our own fault, since the answers are right in front of us. Did you see all the s2 references we put in s4? Do you really think we forgot Will's birthday? type vibes without them outright saying that though.

Technically even though it could be premiering in early 2025, it's gonna feel like it's premiering in summer/fall 2024 regardless bc promo will be so fucking hot at that point that it might as well be out already. It'll a long festivity for sure. Right now we're in early hiatus, which sucks when you're in it. What we get to hope for within the next year is hints from the writers and if we get another dna board with upwards of 100 films, we might have a lot of work on our hands anyways. These ppl are out here giving us reading assignments and we are gladly going along with it. But that's not for everyone necissarily so if some people want to bow out for a year or so, I wouldn't blame them regardless.

Late hiatus right before release is where it's at, and that's honestly a lot closer than we think! It will start getting more serious next summer, so get hyped bc that's just as exciting to look forward to as the end itself!

[thedeviljudges]

ok so maybe a tl;dr kinda post. it's me just writing down my thoughts about the apartment stuff.

tagging @clawbehavior @technitango in case yall wanted an update too!!

so i technically started my apartment hunt last year when i thought i was moving, and while i did realy love two places (owned my the same company so the floor plans were the same) - mainly bc of the amount of light it had from window set up, for the amount of sq ft you got for the price, it just didn't and still doesn't make sense.

but with those in mind and also touring apartments with my friend who was planning to move in this month, there's been a lot to choose from. there's another apartment on my list that another friend lives at, but i think ultimately it's similar to the two above where the price you get for the space isn't the cheapest, especially for what i need.

which led me two the last two apartments i toured today. starting with the second one:

the price is fantastic for the space (ideally need a 2 bedroom or a 1 bed with den/study; i'm hybrid for work). the place was fine. gated and really close to a major area of shops. the biggest issue is the visitor parking - it's all at the front of the complex, and there's only about 25 spaces to which the leasing agent said they're full most of the time. i also didn't get the wow feeling with it. it was just okay. i really wish i would've loved it bc on paper, it would've been great.

but the first place we toured? it's the apartment that had a great unit for the perfect pricing that someone snatched up two days ago (that i posted about a few days ago), and i'm so upset about it because this place is perfect. that unit was a 1 bed with study, but there's no more available so my next option is a 2 bedroom. i can afford it, technically, but it also means with utilities, my car note and other expenses, i won't have much left over each month for casual spending, etc.

which isn't necessarily a bad thing. so many people are in that position right now given the economy. and this wouldn't be that expensive if i didn't have my car note - so my options are to suck it up and go for the space and just be extremely frugal for awhile - with the intention of moving my banking to a credit union and try to apply for refinancing there, which would hopefully lower my interest rate and loan payment on my car.

i'm also inclined to go for this space because i truly fell in love with it. it's exactly what i need; the community is great. it's gated and safe, and i love everything about it, and it's one of the only properties that i truly felt i could live there and enjoy it. i'm also someone that is very intuitive, and this just feels right - like deep down i think i know i won't really be that happy anywhere else. and i hate to hype it up so much bc i know i could move in and end up hating it, but i truly think this may be it?? i'm just so hesitant because of the price. i feel really stupid for even considering it because i feel like what i should be doig is being more sensible, find a smaller place and save money - especially bc if i go with the bigger unit, it also leaves me with not very much to put into savings.

i have a quote, but i've seen the prices online fluctuate, so i'm going to test my luck to see if it'll drop down to a lower rate. if someone nabs the unit before me, then i'll probably forfeit the need for a bigger space, go smaller and then see if i can move into a bigger unit the following year. i would hate to do that because i really want to separate my work from my personal space (this is a big deal for me given my last toxic work environment), and it's easier to do that with a den/study or two bedroom, but i really love the place enough to consider a year there with a smaller unit and then potentially move within the same complex. like, it will suck not having the space i want and not being able to completely remove work (my desk would either have to go in the living room or bedroom, and bc my desk is in my bedroom right now, that's also a big no. i highly do not recommend putting work where you sleep). but i think i could hold out for another year bc i think i'll just be excited to have my own space.

so that's where i'm at right now tbh. i think i'm set on the apt complex; now it's just choosing the unit.

*i should also note that if i got a 2 bedroom unit on the 2nd or 3rd floor, that would be cheaper. my ideal is the first floor bc i've lived on the first floor in my current place, and i'm so used to it. i could possibly do a 2nd floor unit since it'd be less stairs to climb, but it's also not ideal.

[selfundiagnosed]

Insane that my mom ran the most popular patrick stump archival blog on tumblr + was a full time lawyer + was raising two mentally ill kids + doing culinary arts school + having a cookie business. I think its her autism i wont lie. But now its all catching up to her and she has no energy which would be the ehlers danlos fault this time.. tried to convince her to steal her old url back but on cohost so she made an account but couldnt immediately make side blogs but boy oh boy. she would be giving the fall out boy fandom what they want and more. Shes like i cant do it again i have no idea how i did it before im like ma! its called having boundaries. Shes like i cant do that when i have a special interest its called autism. Im like right but queue posts for once a day and find 30 pictures from a photo set and boom one months worth of posting fall out boy and you can conserve your energy. But she doesnt know how to do her special interests in moderation. Im honestly just glad she went and accepted a bunch of access to her mega archive folder thingy. But shes so mad she doesnt have access to like her actual archive bc the website she used go archive everything changed their subscription plans and she has so many photos it would be like a zillion dollars she doesnt have 😭 like bogus i remember photo storing websites were so free. Take me back to 2010 for real :T Anyway she used to get so mortified when i told my friends as a teen about her blog i actually told her coworker once and her coworker somehow RETAINED the url and went home and looked at her blog and she was so upset at me 😭😭 but now like she kinda doesnt give a fuck anymore bc fall out boy was her special interest for an entire decade and she’s over it. Obviously still a big big fan but not in bandom anymore. Her new special interest is a band i introduced her to when i was 13 and its kinda cringe so i dont talk about it but she also ran an archival blog for THIS band and i told my friend at a sleepover who liked this band about her blog and they fucking FOLLOWED HER and shit bricks and my mom was MORTIFIED. But anyway yeah she doesnt gaf now if i tell people she was this blog and i even posted a tiktok about it once and people started doing detective work that would make her autistic self so proud…. Bc thats what she was good at! sleuthing stalking detective work on the band. Pete wentz privately answered several of her asks on tumblr i’ll see if she can send me the asks and their responses. But yeah she doesnt care anymore. her original url was scrubbed by tumblr and shes very angry about it bc it was an original bandom url for patrick stump so shes like wtf ever i dont wanna touch this im so mad. Which SAAAAME. ive done that so many times. She started permitting access to people who requested it for one of her photo archive website thingies she left in her last post. But yeaaaahhh… she was patrick stump for halloween in like 2008 and she won the costume contest bc she had rhe coolest sideburns and looked so much like him. My first ever concert was a fall out boy concert in spring 2007 i was 6 turning 7 within the next few months lemme just say the music video for carpel tunnel of love played on the screen as they played the song and my brother and i was so traumatized. But then immediately they played this aint a scene after that and we were like HELL YEAAAAAAAAA. And my brother (5 at the time) and i knew every single song and sang along and my mom went look at everyone else no one else knows these songs. You guys are so cool. And we looked around and yeah no one was singing the songs and were sooo excited! Oh and theres that one time she recorded us singing keep it simple by cobra starship and THEY PUT IT ON THEIR MYSPACE PAGE AT THE TOP WE FLIPPED SHIT. i wish THAT video was still up. Shes also met fall out boy so many times and walked away from patrick stump while he was talking to her bc she didnt want to take up his time at a meet and greet. Omg. so many memories. I was literally raised in online bandom thats so insane. Maybe thats why im a homosexual