#summers family tree project

[luimnigh]

I haven't added him to the Summers Family Tree graph yet, but one of the funniest things on the graph is that Frank Castle is on it.

Frank Castle, human being with the powers of Gun and Angry, is on the family tree of Scott Summers, human being with superpowers, via Thanos.

[kirisclangen]

Larchpaw

She/her, 8 moons, cis molly

[loudclan-clangen]

Loudclan - Moon 29: Part 1

Summer rolls across the valley territories with a vengeance. The sparse mountain territory of Loudclan offers little reprieve from the ever present sun that beats down on the cats. While most patrols rush back to camp to take shelter in the caves during the midday hours, young warriors itch for a chance to prove themselves, and evidence of trespassers provides just that for Fiercestripe's patrol.

A fight breaks out between the patrol and the farm cats. Though the clan-cats are highly trained fighters, save for Fiercestripe they are untested in battle, and are outnumbered more than 2:1. There will certainly be losses.

[clangen: *takes everyone's favorite characters, throws them in a blender, and sets it to liquefy* me: *twirls my little metaphorical evil mustache* ahh, yes, just as I planned... For real though, I am so glad to finally get this moon (half of it at least) out to you guys! It is definitely the biggest and most time and skill intensive moon so far and I had a ton of fun drawing it! Unfortunately, that means that the second part is going to take a similarly long while to finish, but I hope that the quality of them makes up for the wait! I hope you guys all enjoy! If you're a little lost as to who the farm cats are check out this pmv and this family tree]

Edit: It's been pointed out to me that Rosehiptree's age is wrong here. That's my bad, this was a HUGE project and while I did my best to not make any mistakes it slipped past me. She's 14 moons old, the same as Dogwoodmoth, but it would be more trouble than it's worth to change it, given the size of the moon not allowing me to upload images on mobile, so lets all just do me a favor and pretend it says 14 instead of 13. Thanks!

First Moon

Next Moon

[reasonsforhope]

re: sending an ask about something that makes you hopeful to start off the new year on a good note. this is a personal project that has given me hope! (sorry for the length, i'm a rambler)

next to my house is a shallow creek. when we first moved in the banks were choked with trash, scrap metal from the road, and invasive brush. when it stormed, rainwater would run off the road, turn the creek black, and make it smell like roadkill mixed with chemicals. once we were settled in our house, we decided to try and clean it up a little bit at a time. we got to work replacing the invasive bushes with native groundcover just a few seedlings each season, and every spring since then we've made a tradition of sending out an invite to a bunch of neighbors/extended family/friends to come help clean trash out!

its been a source of hope and pride for me to see how the younger people in our community have gotten excited about taking care of the creek after that first little push. our little ecosystem has slowly improved thanks in part to our efforts: the biodiversity has steadily improved with each passing year, the baby trees we put in are going strong, the wildflowers on the banks are beautiful in the summer and help catch the gravel/muck that slides off the road! Its all very rewarding, and i love the feeling that we have made an impact, even if its a small one :)

anyway, that's something that brings me hope! i wish that 2025 will be an even better year than the ones before, for our little creek and for the world in all. p.s thank you for this blog, it has been a real light for me in the past year <3

!!!!!!! This is amazing!! This is what it's all about - picking a spot where you can make a difference, and then doing it. Small, local impacts make such a huge difference, especially in terms of ecology and ecosystem restoration

What an amazing story, and thank you so much for doing this!! That little creek and the plants and animals that live there are so lucky rn

[harridansibyl]

Personal associations/interpretations of the dark/mystical houses (4th, 6th, 8th, 12th)

4th house

twisted tree roots, cultural practices, heirlooms, photo albums, inherited features, traditions, the mother, past lives, generational trauma, picture books, garden beds, childhood homes, ancestor altars, hand written recipe books, hearth, squeaky wooden floorboards, genealogy archives, caves, oak trees, baby wrap carriers, emotional security, cultural heritage, building foundations, photo albums, genetics, laundry lines, swing sets, property, mines, crops, sanctuaries, the chest and heart, home steads, fields, farms, root cellars, harvests, pots on stoves, brooms, backyards, agriculture, vines on trellises, handmade blankets, grandparents house, laundry baskets, attachment styles, singing lullabies, history, deep emotions, instincts, the unconscious, summer, waxing moon, vase of flowers, bath time, picking berries, celebrating holidays, chicken coops, older sisters, family gatherings, stone paths, forest walks, ancient structures/buildings, ancestral languages, cupboards, staying in

6th house

vitamins and supplements, morning routines, pharmacies, tasks and lists, doctors offices, health food stores, stomach medicine, hygiene practices, journals and planners, schedules, herbal teas, personal rituals, emergency kits, dog walks, lymphatic drainage, caregiving, donating blood, examinations and checkups, meditation, colour coordination, sticky notes, gastrointestinal problems, folded laundry, labels on everything, retirement homes, hand washing, braided hair, herb gardens, filing cabinets, face masks, kombucha, detailed diagrams, volunteer work, medicine cabinets, cleaning supplies, shelves, acts of service, skin care, organic linen, gauze and stitches, stress-induced illnesses, essential oil/herb baths, house plants, instructions, repetition, holistic medicine, giving advice, yoga studios, "gut feeling," bone broth

8th house

altars, divination, near death experiences, candle wax, feeling crushed by a heavy weight, grave dirt, red/dim lighting, funerals, double income, control, the underworld, cheques, insurance, heirlooms, ghost sightings, power imbalances, crime documentaries, ouroboros, bank accounts, grief and loss, shadow work, the womb, manipulation, scrying mirrors, Russian nesting dolls, keys, mortuaries, tests from the universe, pendulums, crime scene tape, the phoenix, projections, credit scores, animal bones on a forest floor, blood stained sheets, metaphysical shops, spiritual attacks, deep emotions, snakes, dead flowers, late autumn, wedding veils, envelopes, full moon, muddy boots, shadows at the corners of your vision, scarab beetles, inner processing, experiencing crisis, inherited possessions, natural disasters, sexual trauma, psychological studies, ancestral connections, cracked dolls, veil between realms, mental illnesses, deep connections, intimacy, reincarnation, torture devices, keys, whirlpools, the sound of sirens, unconscious fears, intense first impressions, pushing limits, feeling bound, scratches on walls, ten of swords

12th house

abandoned places, liminal spaces, long winters, shadowy figures, reoccurring dreams, repeated patterns, fog-filled forests, self analysation, inner worlds, cave systems, unfinished basements, hallucinations, solitary confinement, empty parking garages, spiral staircases, substance abuse, trapped in purgatory, hidden beneath the surface, maladaptive daydreaming, hospital hallways, confines of society, waning moon, moths, wandering aimlessly, disconnection from the world, psych wards, healing others, tired eyes or dark circles, chronic mental illness, suppression, addictions, hiding places, overnight shifts, unexplainable experiences, past life karma, exhaustion, cobwebs, others projections, catacombs, bird cages, premonitions in dreams, prescription bottles, self destructive patterns, late night walks, misty lakes, the feeling of walking out of the movie theater at night, identity crises, blurred faces, empty public transport, astral projection, comas, diary entries, dissociative episodes, shape shifting, generational trauma, observing people, mirrors, padded rooms, the afterlife, chain link fences, paradoxes, feeling misunderstood, repression or memory loss, hikikomori, the freeze response, disappearance, waiting rooms

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know

The Doctor has been known to keep a teddy bear in his pocket.

The Master's first TARDIS (Lolita) is the Doctor's TARDIS's twin.

The Eighth Doctor once had sex with a sentient planet.

Machiavelli, Richelieu, and Robespierre were all just different aliases for the immortal Hades.

The iceberg that the Titanic crashed into was actually the Monk's TARDIS.

Also on board at the time were several incarnations of the Doctor, the Decayed Master, Jack Harkness, John Hart, Ace McShane, and Bernice Summerfield.

The First, Fourth, and Fifth Doctors were all in London around when the Great Fire started in 1666.

The Eighth Doctor was briefly engaged to Queen Edith but ran away before the wedding.

Consecrated planets, moons, and asteroids cannot be mined under Galactic Law.

The Doctor used to make up imaginary enemies to play fight when they were a small, lonely child. One of these enemies was called Mandrake.

The Sixth Doctor once went back in time with Peri to kill a baby who would become an evil dictator but could not go through with it.

After Nyssa tried to fix the chameleon circuit, the TARDIS took the shape of a whale.

Tegan Jovanka is the Earth Ambassador to Gallifrey.

The First Doctor participated in a riot and became wanted by the CIA two days before running away from Gallifrey (although some sources dispute this).

While the Ninth Doctor witnessed Kennedy's assassination, the First Doctor witnessed McKinley's.

The First Doctor has been repeatedly eaten and regurgitated by a whale before.

Marilyn Monroe married both the Eleventh Doctor and King Henry VIII, who fathered Elizabeth I, who married the Tenth Doctor, and he had also been married to Amy Pond, who was also the Doctor’s mother-in-law through River Song. Talk about a confusing family tree!

The First Doctor fed a snapping wart fowl to Valyes's summer project, and Valyes has had a grudge ever since.

The Eighth Doctor once demanded to die naked upon being sentenced to execution.

All righty, folks. I'm very tired! Good night. I may add more later.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72

[leucisticpuffin]

On a summer evening in Rivendell, Elrond's little family are busy designing a sensory-play room for the twins. (If Elrond ends up hiding in there too after stressful councils, no one's going to say anything.)

For Day 5 of @elrondweek (a little late because of absent-mindedness...) Please click on it to see all the details!!

A lot of research went into this painting (and a lot of thought about how you'd crease a multisensory environment in a fantasy world with no electricity for pretty lights and bubble lamps) so here are some notes and headcanons:

Lighting: A number of elves who studied under Feanor later lived in Middle-earth (especially Eregion) and continued making crystal lamps and light-altering gemstones. The crystals in the small jar are a kind which glows for several hours after being “charged” with sunlight. They are used for decoration and in situations where a flame would be impractical or dangerous, e.g. a child-safe nightlight. 

Light projection jars: Glass jars decorated with colours and patterns. When a light crystal is placed in the jar, the colours are projected across the floor or wall. (Elladan and Elrohir are still a little young to be trusted with heavy glass jars, so for now these will be kept in a locked chest and used with adult supervision). 

Fabrics: Samples of cloth with lots of interesting colours and textures for the kids to choose from. Some (like the star cloth Elrohir is admiring) will be draped from the walls or ceiling of the sensory room to create a dark, cosy environment, and others made into blankets, cushions, etc. 

Star cloth: Cloth embroidered with tiny, faintly-glowing gems, resembling the night sky. First created in Valinor by a member of the textiles guild, it was popular among older elves who wanted to remember the skies of Middle-earth. It was expensive and difficult to make, and fell out of fashion when the Noldor left Valinor. The craft was revived in second-age Eregion, and easier methods of making it were developed. 

Toys: Elladan is playing with a painted wooden rain-shaker. Other sensory toys pictured include a colourful spinning top and a set of tactile wooden balls. They’re gathering a collection to keep in the boys’ toy-chest. Elrohir prefers the tactile objects, while Elladan likes any toy that makes a noise.

Room decor: Inspired by Art Nouveau aesthetics. The rug is based on an antique Donegal carpet, and the wallpaper on Arts and Crafts designs. 

Clothing: Inspired by paintings and antique garments: the twins and Celebrian are (loosely) based on paintings by John Singer Sargent and Henry Arnould Olivier, while Elrond’s robes are based on a 1905 House of Worth tea gown.

There are a number of flowers and plants in this painting; their meanings in flower language are as such: 

Bonsai pear tree: comfort

Irises (in the stained-glass window): wisdom

A vase of white lilacs: joy of youth, youthful innocence

Traveller’s joy (in the patterned wallpaper): safety

Primroses (Elladan’s hairpin and the embroidery on the twins’ dresses): early youth

Daisies (Elrohir’s shoes): innocence

Forget-me-nots (Celebrian’s dress): true love

Lily-of-the-valley (Elrond’s hairpin): sweetness, return of happiness

[starrynightmuse]

Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond. 

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!” 

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history. 

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue. 

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius." 

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class. 

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects. 

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget. 

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —” 

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity. 

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.” 

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles. 

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you. 

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.” 

“Do you study mathematics?” 

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.” 

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?" 

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?" 

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last. 

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.  

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat. 

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch. 

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.” 

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.” 

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."  

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library. 

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.” 

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf. 

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.” 

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly. 

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement. 

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond. 

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.” 

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.  

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls. 

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said. 

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

[luimnigh]

Uh.

So.

I just reached the maximum number of shapes in the flowchart software I was using to diagram the Summers Family Tree.

Fuck.

[svnoohe4rts]

THE ULTIMATE GUIDE: TO THE ULTIMATE FRIENDSHIP. ― rule number one.

pairing: park jongseong x fembodied!reader

summary: sunghoon had been strict to follow the rules written on the list the two of you had written years ago, especially rule number three. but when jay suddenly makes an appearance in your life, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he broke rule number three a long time ago.

word count: 11,8k

warnings: angst, jealousy, just sunghoon being a bad best friend in general, SMUT ! MDNI . proofread but there may be some mistakes, please don’t be afraid to point them out !

masterlist ! next

A GUIDE TO THE ULTIMATE FRIENDSHIP.

Sunghoon saw the list of rules you two had written together every time he opened the top drawer of his nightstand table. The once white, lined paper almost had a yellow tint to it now and your handwriting had smudged to the point where it was practically impossible for Sunghoon to read the already poorly spelled sentences.

Not that he needed to read it, no, he had already memorized what the paper said years ago; long before the words faded and the paper crumbled.

It was the summer break between 4th and 5th grade when you and Sunghoon sat down underneath the big tree in his backyard while drinking some lemonade Sunghoon’s mother had made earlier that summer morning, writing a list of rules. 

A list of rules for the two of you to follow in order to have the ultimate friendship.

RULE NUMBER ONE: NO OTHER BEST FRIENDS ALLOWED.

Sunghoon had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. There was not a single memory you could recall where Sunghoon was not there, being practically glued to your hip ever since the two of you were born. In the video your parents had taken of you where you had just learned how to ride a bicycle Sunghoon could be heard cheering for you in the background, just like he was seen secretly blowing the candle out on your seventh birthday.

He could also be spotted in the framed picture hanging off the wall in your parent's room, the picture your parents had asked some poor tourist to take off you when Sunghoon came with your family on a skiing trip when you were fifteen. Everyone who saw the picture always asked who the handsome boy was and if it was your brother, which was almost true - Sunghoon was almost like a brother to you at this point. 

A brother.

And with Sunghoon being your best friend and practically a part of your family, why would you ever need another best friend? 

Both of your signatures could be found at the bottom of the page, Sunghoon’s first attempt to write his signature was scribbled over as he misspelled his own name and needed you to help him spell it. You had kissed the paper as a final way to seal the contract before forcing Sunghoon to do the same, and Sunghoon remembers shuddering in disgust as he pressed his lips onto the same spot as you - indirectly kissing his best friend, something he never wanted to experience, ever.

After that, you handed Sunghoon the list, telling him that he could keep it; knowing he would forget the rules otherwise knowing how forgetful he could sometimes be. So he did, storing it in the top drawer of his bedside table; where it remained, even ten years later.

 ‘’Wanna stay for dinner? I think my mom mentioned something about trying some new recipe she found,’’

‘’Can’t. Jay asked me to come over, we still have that English project to finish, remember?’’

A frown formed on Sunghoon’s face, watching as you kept your eyes glued to the screen of your phone. With a groan emerging from the back of his throat, he put his hand over your phone screen; covering whatever it was on your phone that possibly could’ve had you so invested, so invested that you hadn’t been paying any attention to Sunghoon for the last twenty minutes.

‘’But you’re always hanging out with Jay,’’

Sunghoon hated Jay. 

Maybe hate wasn’t the right word to describe the feelings he felt towards Jay, maybe it was a little too harsh; dislike was probably a more fitting and less brutal word to describe what he felt towards the boy who had stolen his best friend away from him.

The tall, mysterious and seemingly charismatic boy had suddenly made an appearance in your life three months back. Sunghoon remembers hearing the name Jay trail off your lips for the first time when you were comfortably laying in his bed, watching as he tried clearing a level he had been stuck on for the last couple of weeks. He also remembers just shrugging it off as you told him about how you got partnered up with the new student for your English class as he focused on the monster taking up the screen of his TV instead, both his brows furrowed and the tip of his tongue poking his cheek in concentration.

The second time the name Jay left your lips, he was sitting in the school's cafeteria. He remembers scrolling through his phone while you talked about how easy your English assignment was, and that you had Jay to thank for making it so easy for you. He also remembers you rolling your eyes when he asked who Jay was, before you lightly hit him in the arm for not listening to you.

By the nth time Jay’s name had spilled past your lips, Sunghoon wondered if you had broken the first rule of your contract.

Especially when you suddenly could no longer attend your daily hangouts after school, also known as you going to his house to do nothing for a couple of hours before going home, only to repeat the same thing the next day. You had accompanied him home from school for as long as Sunghoon could remember, so why would it change now, ten years later?

Well, Sunghoon blamed Jay for changing the routine the two of you had kept going for years.

Suddenly, you were too busy accompanying Jay to his house after school instead. To work on your assignment, you had claimed, and that maybe you could come over afterward; if it wasn’t too dark out, that being said - even though Sunghoon had offered you to spend the night multiple times.

You never did come over after you went to Jay’s house nor did you ever spend the night. Sunghoon wondered if it was because you’d rather hang out with Jay, who had managed to snatch you away from him in every way possible, even when he wasn’t even present.

Like right now, for example.

Glaring at the boy sitting in front of you, you rolled your eyes before pushing his big hand away from the screen of your phone. ‘’We study together, Sunghoon. I kind of have to hang out with him.’’ You let out before your eyes wandered back to your phone, Sunghoon watching with the same frown plastered on his face as you typed something out using both your thumbs.

Watching as you typed, he tried changing the subject, not wanting to talk about the boy anymore. ‘’Who are you texting?’’ He tried peeking over your phone, to no avail; he couldn’t even see half of the screen from where he was sitting. Shifting around in his bed, you continued typing with a small smile on your lips, ‘’Jay, he’s asking if he should pick me up.’’ 

Feeling a lump form in his throat, which he didn’t know was in distress or annoyance, Sunghoon came to the realization he’d never be able to escape the topic of Park Jay; no matter how hard he tried.

‘’Tell him no, I’ll drive you.’’ 

His voice finally caused you to look up at him, properly this time, the small smile remaining on your lips. Sunghoon knew the smile wasn���t for him, yet it somewhat eased the uneasiness he was feeling from the thought of watching you get in someone else's car, more specifically Jay’s car, when he could easily drive you. ‘’Really?’’ You let out, both your brows raised and the screen of your phone turning off; giving Sunghoon the slightest hope that you wouldn’t turn it back on.

Nodding in response, he snatched the phone out of your hands, not giving you the chance to turn it back on; putting it behind his back. ‘’Only if you promise to pay attention to me for the remaining time.’’ He let out, causing a small chuckle to trail off your lips as you sat up straight against the headboard of his bed.

With your hands finding their way to his face, your soft hands squeezing his cheeks together; Sunghoon felt the lump in his throat completely disappear. ‘’I promise to pay attention to my clingy best friend.’’ You grinned, Sunghoon staring at you in distaste before turning his face away from you; causing your soft hands to slip away from his face. Pretending to wipe your touch away from his cheeks, he shook his head while listening to the giggles trailing off your lips. 

‘’First of all, I’m not clingy,’’ He spoke, ‘’Second of all, you’re not my grandma so you have no business squeezing my cheeks like that.’’

Grinning at him, you once again grabbed onto his cheeks, ‘’I might not be your grandma, but I’m your best friend.’’ 

Fighting back a smile, he once again tried getting away from your grip; both of you laughing and Sunghoon suddenly felt like he was twelve again - when you were his only best friend and didn’t have to worry about you drifting away from him.

You remember when you laid eyes on the boy named Jay for the first time.

With his dark hair slicked back and pieces of hair falling onto his forehead, he had walked into the classroom with his hands shoved down the front pockets of his pants. You were sure he caught not only your attention, but everyone else’s as well; with his hawk-like eyes and sharp features, it was almost impossible not to find him alluring after all. 

And with your professor introducing the stranger as Jay who had just moved schools, he had gazed over the class and nodded his head before taking a seat - the class continuing on as if nothing had happened.

Not for you though. 

You remember watching him for the next couple of days after that, out of pure curiosity. You remember watching as he mindlessly browsed his laptop as your professor spoke with no open document in sight to take notes, you also remember how he got told off multiple times for having his AirPods in during class; only for him to show up the next day with the AirPods back in his ears. You admired him for that.

It took a week, a week of you as well as everyone else watching him from afar, for the seemingly quiet boy to be announced as your partner for the upcoming assignment.  

You remember hearing his voice for the first time when he stood in front of you after class, and how you thought his voice suited him perfectly; the low and deep tone of his voice matching the enigmatic aura that seemed to surround him wherever he went. You also remember feeling baffled the first time you sat down to study, when he seemed to know everything surrounding the subject even though you knew he hadn’t been listening nor had he been taking notes of anything the professor had spoken of. 

The once mysterious boy quickly became not so mysterious and you suddenly found yourself being around him more frequently. 

You had learned a lot about the boy during the three months you had spent getting closer to him. Like the fact that he had a birthmark shaped somewhat like a heart on the side of his neck for example, a birthmark that you had observed the one time he leaned over you to look at the screen of your computer, or that he always smelled musky, a tone of bergamot following him everywhere he went - the smell engulfing you each time he pulled you into a hug to greet you.

You often found yourself wondering if you were the only one who knew those small things about him, and if the rest of the world still saw him as the mysterious boy you yourself once saw him as.

‘’I was beginning to think you flaked on me.’’

Once again, the woody fragrance you had now grown accustomed to engulfed you as the dark-haired boy towered above you, a playful smirk accompanying his words as you stood outside his front door. 

The sky had gotten significantly darker compared to when you got into Sunghoons car, the night sky slowly replacing the orange tone that had decorated the sky just a few minutes prior. A smile formed on your lips as you shook your head, your eyes meeting his; taking a moment to observe his hooded eyes.

You had learned a lot about the boy during the few months you had known him, sure - yet you had the lingering feeling that there was still something about him you had yet to learn.

The feeling washed over you every time you got a glimpse of his eyes, each time leaving you to wonder just what it was that you had yet to learn. You knew he was an only child, you knew his father worked away from home which meant he had the apartment to himself most of the time, you knew his favorite color was purple thanks to the one time he came with you shopping - when he had pointed out one shirt in particular, a purple one, telling you to get it because he thought you’d look good in his favorite color.

You felt like you knew everything there was to know at this point, yet the strange and almost obscure feeling lingered.

‘’You really think I’d do that?’’ You chuckled as he stepped aside, allowing you to step into the dimly lit and quiet apartment. He liked it that way, you had figured out, considering the fact that it was always eerily quiet every time you came over; no radio mindlessly playing in the background, no random show playing on the TV - just simple quietness. 

A chuckle emerged from the back of his throat as he watched you take your shoes off, shaking his head. ‘’I’d hope not, I mean, I’d like to consider us friends at this point.’’

The words caused you to look up at him, your lips slightly parted before a small grin spread across your lips. ‘’Should I feel honored? You make it sound like I should,’’ You grinned, successfully kicking your shoe off. Jay rolled his eyes in response, leaning his upper body against the wall behind him. ‘’No, but I think friends reply to each other's messages, no?’’ 

Lightly hitting his bicep, something Jay had figured out you did when you felt comfortable around someone, you shook your head. ‘’I’m sorry, I was at Sunghoons house and I forgot to reply,’’ 

The sudden mention of Sunghoon caused Jay to raise one of his eyebrows. ‘’Sunghoon? Let me think,’’ He hummed, squinting his eyes as if he was thinking, ‘’The boy you’re always hanging out with, right? The one you grew up with?’’ This time, it was your turn to roll your eyes after staring at him in disbelief for a moment. ‘’Yes, Sunghoon, the boy I’ve told you about like, what, a thousand times?’’ You let out, squinting your eyes back at him.

Jay had yet to meet Sunghoon, despite attending the same school as the two of you. There had been plenty of instances where they could’ve met, like every time you bumped into Jay in the hallways while casually talking to Sunghoon - your introverted friend, however, always just gave you a quick nod whenever he saw your face lit up upon seeing the other boy; leaving before you even had the opportunity to introduce the two. 

You just shrugged it off as Sunghoon being his introverted self, and meeting new people just wasn’t his forte. You, however, had yet to learn about the boy's hatred towards the other boy and the fact that he had no desire whatsoever to meet the boy who had stolen his best friend away.

A smirk formed on Jay’s lips, gently punching you in the shoulder. ‘’I’m just playing, I’m assuming he drove you here?’’ He asked, not taking his eyes off of you as he started walking down the hallway leading to his room. You nodded in response, fixing the bag hanging off your shoulder as you followed him; earning a nod back from the taller boy. 

‘’Hopefully I’ll get to meet this infamous Sunghoon one day.’’

‘’Maybe one day.’’

‘’How come you’re taking English classes if you already know all of this stuff?’’

Your question caused a low chuckle to emerge from the back of Jay's throat, not taking his eyes off the book placed in front of him. ‘’I think this is just common knowledge, Y/N,’’ He responded, causing you to frown. ‘’That’s just an indirect way of calling me stupid.’’ You mumbled, tearing your eyes off the boy seated in front of you before returning your gaze to the book placed in your lap. 

Jay looked up at you, holding back a chuckle at the sight of you pouting; a small smile forming on his lips as he leaned over the bed, grabbing onto your chin before tilting your head up. Your eyes immediately met his, your eyes wide from his sudden action and the foreign feeling of his rough fingers gently gripping your chin; your eyes traveling down to the smile he wore on his plump lips.

And you almost missed the way his eyes traveled down to your lips, too.

 ‘’I don’t think you’re stupid.’’

Even though you felt like there was something you didn’t know about the boy, there was one thing you had learned - he wasn’t too big on psychical contact. It took weeks for him to greet you with a hug, only raising his eyebrows at you every time you tried to wrap your arms around him; leaving you feeling both embarrassed and dumb for thinking he’d want to hug you in the first place. 

Until one day, he had taken you by surprise when you were waiting for him by his locker; his big hands suddenly grabbing onto your shoulders from behind before spinning you around, laughing at your shocked expression before hugging you for the first time. 

After that, despite you stumbling over your words from utter shock from him hugging you without you initiating it, it became a habit to hug each other whenever you greeted one another.

You noticed he grew more comfortable around you as his small, almost unnoticeable touches happened more frequently. You remember him placing one of his hands on your thigh while you were reading something out loud and he wanted to read whatever you were reading too, or the one time he wrapped an arm around your shoulders while walking to the school's library; all while laughing at something you had said.

But this, him touching your face, had never happened before.

Noticing the way your lips separated like you were about to say something, but not a single word leaving your lips; he chuckled at the clearly flustered state you were in before letting go of your chin, going back to leaning against the wall by his bed. ”Plus I think it’d look good on my resume, don’t you think?” You just stared at him for a moment, watching as he went back to reading like he hadn’t just grabbed your chin; clearing your throat in a desperate attempt to hide your now flustered state.

‘’You know,’’ You let out after a while, trying to change the topic, ‘’I keep getting the feeling that there’s something I have yet to know about you.’’

Jay just cocked an eyebrow, he could feel you looking at him; keeping his eyes glued to the page he was reading. ‘’Yeah? And what would that be?’’ He let out, looking up at you before slightly tilting his head. You shrugged, ‘’I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure it out.’’ He just stared at you for a moment upon hearing your words, his eyes meeting yours as silence engulfed both of you.

‘’You want to know what I think?’’

You nodded your head, feeling both confused and nervous from the sudden silence - had you accidentally managed to offend him?

He took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face; causing you to slightly furrow your eyebrows as his eyes met yours once more. ‘’I think there’s a lot you don’t know about me.’’

The seriousness lingering behind his words caused your facial expression to soften and a chuckle to leave the back of your throat, shaking your head as you tore your eyes off the boy sitting in front of you; Jay, however, kept his eyes on you - watching as you went back to reading whatever page you were on, a small smile plastered on your lips. 

You wondered if he was just trying to tease you, make fun of you even; realizing your sudden confession probably sounded like a joke to him, something you blurted out to avoid having him tease you for your flushed state.

‘’Yeah? Like what?’’

‘’Do you want me to show you?’’

His sudden exclamation caused your eyes to immediately dart back up, your eyes immediately being met by his own dark ones. Expecting to be greeted by his usual playful smile, you suddenly grew nervous once more as you realized the playful grin you had expected to see was nowhere to be seen.

No, with his eyes burning into your skin and his head slightly tilted, you realized he wasn’t teasing you. 

‘’What?’’ You let out, trying your best to decipher the stern look on his face. It wasn’t unusual for Jay to walk around with a stern look on his face, his hawk-like eyes and sharp features making it look like he was constantly judging everyone around him. But this, the look he was giving you right now? No, it was nothing like the usual stern look he wore on his face.

‘’I said, do you want me to show you?’’

With his eyes still burning into your own, you found yourself unable to look away. His low eyes made it almost impossible for you to tear your gaze off him, desperate to understand what the new look he was giving you meant; even if it meant you had to stare right back at him, looking and feeling dumbfounded.

‘’Show me what?’’ The quietness of his apartment made you wonder if he could hear your heart practically beating out of your chest, suddenly feeling almost naked as he stared at you; his dark eyes piercing into your soul, causing a wave of uncertainty to wash over you. Your voice almost came out in a broken whisper, and you wondered if he even heard you.

The deafening silence almost made you repeat your question, keyword almost; you weren’t sure if you wanted him to respond, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what his response would be.

Jay, however, did hear your question - but he didn’t reply, no, instead he tore his eyes off you to grab the novel he was reading; the noise of him slamming the book shut ricocheting off the walls, almost causing you to jump. 

You didn’t even have time to react to the sudden noise before you suddenly felt Jay place both hands on either side of your legs, and before you knew it - he was towering right above you; his arms caging you in.

At that moment, that’s exactly what you felt like; like you were being caged. Like you were being held hostage, with one of his arms now placed against the headboard of his bed where you were comfortably resting your head and the other one placed by your shoulder, you froze.

His face was now only a few inches away from your own, almost feeling his breath fan across your face; the closeness almost causing you to hold your breath as you were unable to do anything but look at him with wide eyes.

The shock of him being so close to you caused your heart to race, his musky scent surrounding you in a way it had never surrounded you before; suddenly being able to smell his shampoo and the mint gum he had been chewing on a few minutes prior. You had been close to him many times before, you had been closer to him than this; like when he hugged you for example, your cheek pressing against his chest as his arms wraps around your figure.

But this? This was completely different from the friendly hugs he usually gave you. This was so much more intimate than all the hugs he had given you combined, his eyes still piercing into your own as you found yourself unable to look away once more - your lips parted and eyes wide as you stared right back at him.

His eyes darted between your eyes and lips, his dark gaze sending shivers down your spine. You desperately tried to say something, to move, anything: but almost like your limbs were frozen in place, you simply couldn’t; feeling like your whole brain had shut down and your vocal cords had never existed in the first place, you were left to do nothing but stare at him in pure shock. 

At that moment, you wished that Jay would’ve left some random show to play on the TV, you wished that he’d at least put on some music while you were studying - anything, anything that could distract you from the way his lips were hovering above your own.

Jay’s eyes met your own once more before a low chuckle emerged from the back of his throat, the sudden sound breaking the silence almost causing you to jump once again. You suddenly felt him bop your nose using the hand he had previously placed right by your head, causing you to blink as a small smile formed on his lips, and before you knew it; he was no longer towering right above you.

‘’I’m just playing with you,’’ He laughed as climbed off of you, his musky scent no longer engulfing you and the mint on his breath no longer invading your senses, ‘’God, you should’ve seen the look on your face! What, do you think I’m some sort of serial killer?’’

Letting go of a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, you forced an awkward chuckle to leave your throat; the uneasiness and confusion lingering in your shaky chuckle being evident. You were quick to tear your gaze off him, almost feeling the need to gasp for air; your cheeks warm and your chest heaving under the shirt you were wearing. You could feel your heart beating and you were almost certain Jay could hear it from across the bed as well, the smile on his lips remaining as he shook his head at your panic, grabbing the book he had disregarded minutes prior.

Like nothing had ever happened, he went back to reading the novel your teacher had assigned you to read; leaving you to uncomfortably shift around in his bed, trying your best to find a comfortable position - trying your best to calm both your racing heart and thoughts.

The thought of Jay almost kissing you didn’t leave your mind for the entire night after that, not even when you found yourself in your own bed hours later - staring at the ceiling as you recalled the feeling of his breath on your face and his scent engulfing you, leaving you to wonder if you had wanted him to kiss you.

The thought remained, even when you woke up the following morning.

Like a stone, it sat in your stomach from the second your eyes fluttered open; only to be greeted by the morning sun peaking through the blinds. On your way to school, the thought still lingered; staring out the window of the passenger seat of Sunghoons car as he mindlessly talked about something, something you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to no matter how hard you tried.

Even during math, the thought of Jay clouded your mind as you desperately tried to focus on the numbers filling your page. But instead, you only stared at the empty paper placed in front of you, the pen you were holding in your hand ghosting over the paper; unable to think about anything but Jay’s body pressing against your own and the way his lips had ghosted over your own.

You, however, despite Jay potentially trying to kiss you clouding your mind; couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were making it all up. Perhaps Jay hadn’t actually tried to kiss you, maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you; maybe he had actually just tried to tease you, he did enjoy seeing you all flustered after all - something you had learned the hard way.

Jay had made you flustered multiple times during your short friendship, more times than you could count. Like when he’d compliment you on the smallest things, for example, the jewelry you chose to wear, or when he’d compliment you on your choice of perfume for that particular day; telling you that you smelled good while pulling you in for a hug to greet you. The smirk he’d wear on his lips every time he’d see your cheeks turn a peachy color made it clear that he enjoyed seeing you like that, making you wonder if he did it purely to make you flustered.

And with the same smirk on his lips, this time while being dangerously close to your face, you were left to wonder if he was in fact just trying to make you flustered.

‘’Are you okay?’’

Sunghoon’s sudden voice caused you to snap out of your thoughts, your eyes landing on the boy walking beside you. With his brows slightly furrowed together, he stared at you; waiting for you to reply. Clearing your throat, you nodded. ‘’Sorry, what were you saying?’’ You mumbled, your gaze returning to the ground underneath you.

A day later, and Jay was still preoccupying your mind; unbeknownst to Sunghoon, who was too busy celebrating the fact that you finally agreed to hang out with him after school. So busy that he almost failed to notice the way you hadn’t been listening to a single word that had left his mouth since that very same morning when he picked you up outside your house, so busy that he almost didn’t notice the way you had only hummed in response to whatever he had said.

Until he eventually did realize, hours later - when you hadn’t uttered a single word for the past fifteen minutes.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he looked at you; his steps coming to a halt, grabbing onto your wrist to prevent you from taking as much as a single step. The feeling of his hand wrapping around your wrist caused you to look up at him once more, both your eyebrows raised as your eyes met his now concerned ones. ‘’What’s up?’’

You could clearly hear the concern lingering behind his words and for a moment you felt guilty, guilty for making him worry. Letting out a chuckle, you shook your head, ‘’It’s nothing, I just have a lot on my mind right now, college, you know?’’

If things had been different and if Sunghoon hadn’t been your best friend for the past twenty years, he would’ve believed you. But he had known you his entire life and he most definitely did not believe you, he could easily tell there was something more than just college on your mind by just looking at you - leaving him to wonder why you felt the need to hide something from him, a frown forming on his face.

‘’You sure?’’ He asked, scanning your face; trying to find out what it was that was preoccupying your mind, what it was that had you so deep into your own thoughts - to no avail as you only flashed him a bigger smile, causing Sunghoon to poke the inside of his cheek using his tongue. 

‘’Cut the bullshit.’’

The smile that you had just worn on your lips slowly faded as your best friend called you out, a frown taking over your features as a small sigh escaped your lips; feeling Sunghoon let go of your wrist, letting his hand fall back down the side of his body. ‘’It’s really nothing,’’ You mumbled, avoiding his gaze; missing the way he rolled his eyes upon hearing your words.

‘’If you say so.’’ 

Your gaze once again landed on the boy as he continued walking, your eyes landing on the back of his head; another sigh escaping your lips as you debated on whether or not to tell your best friend what was weighing you down.

You trusted Sunghoon. You trusted Sunghoon more than you trusted anyone else. he was your best friend, after all, a brother even. But despite your close relationship with one another, love and everything surrounding the topic was just something you didn’t talk about; no matter what.

Maybe it was because of that one time you told him about the crush you had on one of the boys in your class during middle school and he laughed at you, leaving you feeling both embarrassed and angry, angry that you told him in the first place if he was just going to make fun of you. Or maybe it was because of that one time you had to comfort him after he got rejected, something he refused to speak about ever again; you weren’t sure, but one thing was for sure.

You simply did not talk about those things. Or you didn’t, until what had been on your mind eventually slipped past your lips.

‘’I think Jay tried to kiss me last night.’’

As soon as the words left your lips, Sunghoon regretted ever asking.

A sudden burning sensation spread across his chest, feeling like his heart was caving in; his breath almost hitching in his throat upon hearing your words. Feeling like someone had grabbed onto his heart and ripped it out of his chest, crushing it before stomping on it; he wished he had never asked you in the first place.

He wished he wouldn’t have asked what was on your mind, he wished he wouldn’t have known you so well to the point where he could easily tell that something was wrong - anything, anything to avoid the ache he was suddenly feeling in his chest, an ache he had never experienced before.

Almost feeling the need to grab onto the fabric covering his chest, he froze. Like he was unable to move, he just stared at his car that stood parked in the school's parking lot a few feet away.

‘’Did you kiss him?’’

The words trailed off Sunghoon’s lips before he could even comprehend what he was saying, the words leaving his lips before he could even consider what to say; not sure if he actually wanted an answer to his question. 

You just stared at him, confusion washing over you upon seeing his reaction. With his back still facing you, you furrowed your brows; making you wonder if perhaps you shouldn’t have said anything, considering the way his steps came to an abrupt stop and his shoulder tensed. ‘’No,’’ You let out, uncertainty lingering in your voice as you stared at him.

‘’Did you want to kiss him?’’

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sunghoon had to bite his own tongue in order to not say anything else. He didn’t even want to know if you wanted to kiss Jay, no, he didn’t want you to want to kiss Jay; the question slipping past his lips quicker than he was able to think.

Sunghoon wasn’t a religious man, he had never been and he probably never would be either. But at that moment, Sunghoon prayed for the first time in his life; with his eyes squeezed shut, he prayed that you’d say no. 

He prayed that you’d laugh, he prayed that you would tell him how you didn’t want to kiss Jay - anything, he prayed for you to say anything other than a yes. 

He, however, didn’t know if the silence that followed his question was any better than if you would’ve said yes. 

Turning around to face you, he felt the heavy feeling in his chest spread even further as he spotted the look on your face. With your lips pressed into a thin line, you just stared at him; causing Sunghoon’s heart to sink, your silence hurting more than if you were to say yes.

‘’Did you?’’ You bit down on your lower lip as he repeated his question, his brown eyes now staring into your own. You tried to figure out what the look on his face meant, the look that he usually wore on his face whenever he felt disappointed. But he wasn’t disappointed, not right now, he couldn’t be, right? What was there to possibly be disappointed about?

‘’No, I mean, I don’t know,’’ You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders as you spoke. Fighting the urge to avoid his piercing gaze, you nibbled on your bottom lip; the look on his face making you wonder whether he was disappointed or just felt awkward.

The sudden dry chuckle that left his lips, however, told you everything you needed to know. ‘’You don’t know?’’ Almost speaking through gritted teeth, the tone of his voice taking you by surprise; causing you to frown.

‘’Yeah, I don’t know,’’ You let out, your eyebrows furrowed together as he shook his head; another dry chuckle, a chuckle in disbelief, ripping through his chest.

‘’You have to know if you wanted him to kiss you or not Y/N,’’ He argued, not taking his eyes off of you, watching as your eyes widen in surprise. ‘’What? I don’t know Sunghoon, I don’t know if I wanted him to kiss me or not!’’ You defended yourself, confusion washing over you as the boy in front of you only seemed to grow even more agitated the more you spoke.

Letting out a sigh in annoyance, Sunghoon ran one of his hands through his hair in an attempt to somewhat calm himself down, ‘’For fucks sake,’’

‘’Why are you getting mad?’’

Your question caused Sunghoon to freeze, letting his arm fall down the side of his body again, his lips parting like he was about to say something; but with not a single word leaving his lips, the boy remained silent.

You were right, why was he getting mad?

Any other best friend would be happy, happy that their best friend met someone - so why was Sunghoon feeling like someone stabbed him in the heart, and not happy? Why did the thought of his best friend almost kissing another guy, someone who wasn’t him, cause a burning feeling to spread across his chest?

Your big eyes, filled with both surprise and disappointment caused Sunghoons gaze to soften. Realizing he had lashed out at you with no real explanation, confusing both you and himself, he placed his tongue between his teeth. ‘’We’ll hang out some other day, alright?’’ He managed to mumble after a moment of silence, his voice low and you were sure you could hear what sounded like both anger and sadness lingering behind his words.

‘’Sunghoon, wait,’’

The boy had already turned around before you could even utter as much as a word, feeling the need to reach out and grab onto him to stop him from walking away from you; your hand leaving your side, just to retract it just as quickly - realizing it was no use.

He was already walking away, leaving you to stand alone in the school's parking lot. 

Feeling both confused and as if someone had just punched him in the face, Sunghoon came to the realization that you had in fact broken the first rule. And maybe, just maybe, he had broken one of the rules himself.

Radio silence.

Sunghoon didn’t pick you up the following day, even though he had picked you up every single day ever since he got his license and even though you stood outside your house at 8 AM sharp - his car never turned the corner, like he always did. 

Nor did he text you that night, after leaving you in the parking lot all on your own; leaving you to take the bus as your only ride home left you stranded.

Nothing but utter, complete radio silence.

Perhaps it was your own fault, you thought, you had been zoned out the entire day and completely uninterested in anything he had said after all. But the confusion still lingered, the confusion as to why he lashed out at you; as to what could've gotten him so upset to the point where he grew so aggravated, to the point where he felt the need to leave you with no explanation, no nothing.

Instead, you were left confused, with tears staining your cheeks all the way until the early hours of the morning, but most of all: hurt. 

You were left hurt.

The boy now standing in front of you, however, seemed equally as confused with your unannounced presence.

‘’Y/N? What are you doing here?’’ Jay let out in surprise as he opened his front door, only to reveal you standing there; the cold winds sending goosebumps down your arms as you shoved your hands further down your pockets in an attempt to warm yourself up. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his and Jay wondered if your cheeks were red from the cold autumn weather that had slowly been approaching, or if you had been crying. 

‘’Can I come in, or is it a bad time?’’

Maybe it wasn’t the most ideal time for you to show up at Jay’s door, completely unannounced, judging by the way his hair was dripping wet and the towel he was holding in one of his hands. But with Sunghoon completely ignoring you and your heart still slightly aching from your best friend being disappointed, angry - whatever it was he was with you, it was obvious to you that he wouldn’t hang out with you today.

Despite it being the one day of the week, the one day when you had promised him to hang out with him, clearing your schedule to go over to his house; sometimes even sleeping over, if he managed to convince you, that being said.

Not today, you guessed.

Jay looked at you for a moment, before a warm smile spread on his lips. ‘’You’re always welcome here, silly.’’

The warmth of Jay’s apartment welcomed you with open arms, shielding you from the cold winds raging outside; mentally scolding yourself for not wearing something warmer. A low sigh escaped your lips as you sat down at the edge of Jay’s bed, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm yourself up. ‘’I thought today was no study day?’’ Jay spoke as he entered the room, his eyes questioning you as he rubbed the towel against his scalp; preventing droplets of water to drop from the ends of his hair.

You looked up at him, your eyes scanning his figure. With nothing but a flimsy tank top covering his chest, the lack of sleeves leaving his biceps out for you to see - you almost felt the need to look away. Almost like you weren’t supposed to be looking at him, your breath hitched in your throat.

Quickly gazing back down at your hands, still rubbing them together to create some warmth, you shook your head in response. ‘’Change in plans,’’ You lightly chuckled, the sound of Jay draping the towel over the door leading into his room causing you to gaze back up at him, reluctant to do so. He looked over at you, his lips parting as if he was about to say something; his eyes meeting yours.

The room fell silent and you wondered if perhaps he could sense how tense you were. Perhaps he could hear your heart thumping against your chest, just from him simply looking at you, all the way across the room; or maybe it was the look in your eyes that gave it away, you weren’t sure. 

But one thing was for sure, Jay most definitely noticed something - slightly tilting his head at you.

‘’How come?’’

Now it was your turn to shrug, forcing yourself to tear your eyes off of him; his eyes still burning into your skin as you looked away. ‘’Plans changed, I guess,’’ You mumbled, the room falling silent once more.

‘’Why have you been crying?’’

Jay wasn’t sure if you had actually been crying, or if it was the cold causing a red color to flush your cheeks. Trusting his gut feeling, the words softly trailed off his lips; and judging by the way you immediately looked up at him with wide eyes and your shoulders tensing up upon hearing his words - he realized he was right and that it was, in fact, the first option.

Parting your lips like you were about to say something, you felt like sinking through the ground. You had hoped that the cold would’ve helped you cover up your tearstained cheeks and puffy eyes, and maybe anyone else wouldn’t have noticed; but Jay did notice, and you wished he hadn’t - because then you wouldn’t have to awkwardly laugh it off.

You forced a chuckle to leave the back of your throat, bringing one of your hands to your face as you shook your head. ‘’Crying? It’s just cold out,’’ Pressing the back of your hand against your cheek in an attempt to show him that you were in fact just cold, even though that wasn’t the case; hoping he’d just shrug it off.

He didn’t. 

No, instead he just looked at you with his head still tilted, the look on his face making it clear to you that he did not believe your little white lie; not even a little bit. The room fell silent and you wondered if it was disappointment lingering in his dark eyes, disappointment over the fact that you had lied to him.

‘’You don’t have to tell me, you know,’’ He uttered, breaking the silence. His voice was warm as he spoke, nothing like the dagger-like tone that had lingered behind Sunghoon’s words when he had spoken to you, no; Jay’s soothing and sincere voice sounded nothing like the sharp words that had trailed off your best friend's lips. ‘’I just want you to know that I’m here to listen, always.’’

You hadn’t anticipated the lump that was now beginning to form in your throat, nor had you expected Jay to comfort you. You weren’t sure if Jay actually knew how comforting his words were, or if he was even being sincere; but the look in his eyes told you he was and you wondered if he also noticed the tears that had formed in your eyes.

He must’ve, because before you could even blink, you felt him place his weight next to you on the edge of his bed. Your eyes met his once more as he placed one of his hands on top of your thigh, his sudden touch taking you by surprise; but the look in his eyes, however, made you feel even more surprised.

His normally cat-like eyes no longer looked as mysterious to you, not with concern lingering in his dark brown orbs. With his eyes filled with both concern and what almost looked like admiration, you couldn’t help but let the broken sob that had been trying to claw its way out of your throat finally escape.

‘’It’s Sunghoon.’’

Jay was quick to wrap his arm around you before the broken sob could even leave your throat, gently pressing you against his chest before letting his head rest on top of yours. You let the tears that had been threatening to leave your eyes fall, feeling slightly embarrassed for crying in his arms; Jay humming as the name ‘Sunghoon’ trailed off your lips.

Once again, his musky scent engulfed you as his fingers combed through your hair. This time, however, the musky scent you had gotten used to comforted you in a way you had never expected it to - wrapping your arms around his torso in an attempt to get even closer to the boy holding you.

Jay hadn’t heard a whole lot about your so-called best friend, Sunghoon. He knew you grew up with each other and that he had seen him a handful of times in the hallways, but other than that; Park Sunghoon was practically a mystery to him.

But the second his name trailed off your lips, accompanied by your glossy eyes - Jay realized that the name Sunghoon was going to leave a sour taste in his mouth for a very, very long time.

‘’It’s okay,’’ Jay hummed into your hair, his heart clenching as he felt you grab onto him even harder, making him wonder for a split second if you were scared he was going to leave. Maybe you were, perhaps you were afraid he’d leave you on your own; you weren’t sure either, but there was one thing Jay was sure about.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ You mumbled into his shirt, causing a low chuckle to leave Jay’s lips. You were about to look up at him, his sudden chuckle making you frown into the fabric of his tank top; making you feel stupid. But before you even had the chance to move your head, you felt Jay’s hand slowly slip away from your waist and grab onto the side of your face - making you look up at him.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes met his, a small smile on his lips as he looked at you. His face was only a few inches away from yours, closer than he had ever been before - his thumb gently stroking your cheek making it even harder for you to breathe. ‘’Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,’’ He let out, ‘’Especially when you have nothing to be sorry about.’’

Maybe if Jay hadn’t planted the idea in your mind, you wouldn’t have kissed him. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten so close, maybe if his smell hadn’t invaded all your senses, and maybe if his rough fingers hadn’t dragged across your cheek; you wouldn’t have placed your hand in the nape of his neck and brought your face towards his own.

But you did, and you almost felt the need to let out a gasp as his plump lips came into contact with your own lips, the tears that had made their way down your face coating your lips.

Jay, however, also felt the need to almost gasp for air as your salty lips came into contact with his own dry ones. He almost pulled away, he almost let you slip away from his grip; and also he knows he probably should. He knows he shouldn’t let you kiss him, he knows he shouldn’t pull you closer and he knows he most definitely shouldn’t let his fingers run through your hair.

But how could he possibly not, when he had wanted nothing else but this for the past three months?

His lips moved against your own with such urgency, such desperation; his fingertips tugging at the roots of your hair as you placed your other hand on the side of his face, bringing him even closer to you. Feeling his tongue suddenly swipe across your bottom lip, you had to fight back from letting a small whine leave your throat; slightly parting your lips, letting his wet muscle come into contact with your own.

The tears that had previously left your eyes were now nowhere to be seen, Jay using his thumb to wipe them away as he helped you straddle him; his lips not leaving yours as you placed yourself on top of his lap. Feeling one of his hands leave your face and drag down your side before eventually resting at your waist, you almost shivered under his touch.

With your fingertips grazing over the water droplets that had dripped onto the skin of his neck thanks to him not properly drying his hair, Jay let out a low groan against your lips; the sudden sensation of your soft fingers tickling his skin causing his grip around your waist to tighten. The feeling of his fingernails digging into your skin caused a gasp to leave your lips, causing you to pull away from the kiss for a split second.

Jay just looked at you for a moment, admiring you; with you on his lap and your eyelashes stuck together from the tears that had spilled past the corners of your eyes, he had to bite down on his lower lip in order to somewhat ground himself - both of your chests heaving up and down from the intense kiss.

‘’Whatever he did,’’ Jay mumbled after a moment of silence, watching his fingers graze over the skin of your cheek as he spoke, ‘’It’s not worth crying over.’’

His soft words almost caused tears to form in your eyes once more, your lips meeting his before they even had a chance to form and drop onto your cheeks, again. This time, Jay was quick to slip his hand under your shirt, his warm hand gently stroking your waist as his rough lips continued to attack yours. The feeling of his hand coming into contact with your skin caused you to unconsciously move around in his lap, a hiss suddenly leaving Jay’s lips as he pulled away.

You were about to open your eyes, a pang of fear shooting through your body as he pulled away; fear that maybe he didn’t want to kiss you. Maybe he realized that letting you kiss him in the first place was a mistake, that he didn’t actually want to - until you suddenly felt his wet hair come into contact with the skin of your neck, that being said.

Followed by a water droplet dropping knot your skin, you felt him press a soft kiss right underneath your ear; causing you to tilt your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut once more as your lips parted at the sensation. Leaving a trail of kisses down the side of your neck, his rough lips accompanied by his tongue occasionally swiping across your skin; a low whimper emerged from the back of your throat.

‘’Jay,’’ You whimpered, your head still tilted to the side, giving the man easy access to your neck. Nibbling on your skin, he hummed; the vibrations as well as his hand still gently stroking the side of your body causing another whine to spill past your lips. ‘’Can you take my mind off it, please?’’

Your soft whisper caused Jay to detach his lips from your neck, his eyes meeting yours once more. He slightly tilted his head, using his thumb to swipe across your bottom lip as you stared at him; your eyes wide and Jay could practically see the desperation inside of them. ‘’How would I do that?’’ He let out, his voice low as his gaze landed on his thumb, watching as your bottom lip followed his movements. 

You stared at him for a moment, the feeling of his rough fingers pressed against your bottom lip almost making you feel dizzy. ‘’Can you make me feel good?’’ 

Jay’s eyes widened for a split second as the words rolled off your tongue so softly, so softly that he almost missed them and he probably would’ve, if the apartment hadn’t been so quiet. His movements stopped, the pad of his thumb remaining on your bottom lip as his eyes met yours once more.

He looked for any type of doubt, any type of sign; a sign that giving into the urges he had carried around with him for months at this point would be a bad idea, something he’d regret later on; but there was none, no matter how hard he looked. 

No, instead he was met with your lustful eyes; your eyes filled with what Jay could only identify as the very same lust he himself was feeling. ‘’You want me to make you feel good?’’ He breathed, not taking his eyes off of you as he spoke, still looking for any type of warning sign telling him not to do it.

You nodded in response, ‘’Please.’’

And as soon as your soft voice filled the room and confirmed for Jay that you, in fact, wanted him, you suddenly felt yourself being thrown on the bed; with Jay suddenly towering above you - just like he had done two days prior. This time, however, he leaned down and pressed his lips against your own.

‘’I’ll make you feel good, okay?’’ He grunted, resting his forehead against your own. His words caused a whimper to leave your lips, eagerly nodding your head in response. ‘’’Just wanna have you, Jay,’’ You whimpered, wrapping your hands around his neck.

A low hiss left Jay’s lips as he dipped his head in the nape of your neck, his lips latching onto your sensitive skin once more; this time, however, his kisses were much rougher and the grip he had around your waist only hardened as he buckled his hips into your own. A whine emerged from the back of your throat as you threw your head back, a small wet patch forming in your underwear as his crotch pressed against your own; one of your hands gripping onto his wet hair. 

‘’I’ll make you forget everything but my name.’’

A loud gasp left your throat as he pressed his hips against your own once more, this time even harder, his teeth sinking into your skin; not even giving you the time to process what he had just said. Letting your hands get tangled into the wet locks covering his neck, you slightly tugged at his hair - earning a low grunt from him in return as he gently rolled his hips against your crotch.

You weren’t sure if this was the best way to take your mind off what had been weighing you down, or Sunghoon, more specifically. It wasn’t like you intended to end up under Jay, with his lips attached to your neck and his crotch grinding against your own when you showed up at his house, no, you thought maybe he could distract you and your wandering thoughts by maybe catching up on your English assignment.

This, however, feeling his rough fingers roam your body and his lips decorating your skin seemed to be working much better than studying ever could.

You hadn’t even noticed the way Jay had slowly begun to kiss down your neck, now letting his teeth nibble on the skin surrounding your collarbones; his hand that had previously been stroking your side was now gently pulling the fabric of your shirt further up your stomach, the cold air coming into contact with your now very hot, exposed skin causing you to whimper.

His lips suddenly left your skin, the loss of contact causing you to open your eyes and look down at him; only to be met by him already looking at you. His eyes were low, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he slowly moved down the bed - placing feather like kisses on top of your stomach while doing so. Your lips parted as you watched him kiss down your stomach, hooking both his arms under either side of your legs as he placed himself between them.

Keeping his eyes on you, he placed a kiss on the inside of your clothed thigh. ‘’Are you sure about this?’’ He mumbled against your thigh, still pressing small pecks on the inside of your thigh as he spoke. You quickly nodded, your hands finding their way back to his hair; your fingertips running through his now slightly dry hair. ‘’Please,’’ You whispered, nibbling on your bottom lip in anticipation.

A low chuckle left his throat, pressing one last kiss onto the inside of your thigh before his hands slipped off your hips; slowly making their way toward the zipper of your pants. ‘’Since you asked so nicely,’’ He mumbled, his fingers playing with your zipper, ‘’How about we take these off?’’

His eyes met yours once again, your head bobbing up and down in a nod once more; feeling the wet patch that had formed in your underwear grow more and more with each passing second. Only smirking at you, his gaze landed on your core as he unzipped your pants before helping you pull them down your legs - leaving you with nothing but your underwear on and your shirt scrunched up by your chest. 

Jay immediately spotted the wet patch that had formed on the cotton fabric covering your hole, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight; having to hold back a groan from leaving his throat as he placed one of his fingers against your clit, slowly letting it run up and down your clothed core. 

The sudden sensation caused a gasp to trail off your lips. The back of your head hit the pillow placed behind you, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the fabric of your underwear drag up and down your slit. ‘’Is this what a little bit of kissing does to you, hm?’’ Jay cooed, causing you to whimper as he applied some pressure to your clit. ‘’Jay,’’ You whined, your voice almost coming out in a broken whisper. Another chuckle left Jay’s lips as he used his other hand to gently stroke your thigh, leaning down to press a kiss on top of your clothed clit.

‘’I know, I know,’’ He mumbled, hooking one of his fingers under the fabric of your underwear, ‘’I’m not going to tease you, baby.’’

The nickname rolling off his tongue accompanied by the cold air hitting your now wet core as he pulled the fabric to the side caused a low moan to leave your lips, grabbing onto his hair even harder. Jay bit down on his bottom lip as your wet slit was fully revealed to him, once again letting his fingers run up and down your slit. This time, the moan that trailed off your lips as your arousal coated his finger caused him to slightly buck his hips into the mattress underneath him - finally letting his tongue come into contact with your core.

The feeling of his plump lips latching onto your clit with no warning whatsoever caused a gasp mixed together with a moan to rip through your chest, his tongue swiping against your clit causing your head to sink even further into the pillow. Using one hand to gently stroke your inner thigh while his tongue circled around your clit, a low grunt left his throat as he felt you tug at his hair even harder.

‘’Fuck,’’ You let out, taken aback by Jay’s eagerness - expecting him to go slow on you. Jay, however, had no plans on going slow on you; you wanted him to take your mind off things, didn’t you?

You suddenly felt him place his other hand by your entrance, his lips still wrapped around your clit; another low gasp leaving your lips as you felt one of his fingers trace the outside of your entrance. Jay let out a low hum of satisfaction upon feeling the amount of arousal spilling out of your hole, the vibrations causing you to arch your back.

Before you knew it, he was slipping one of his fingers into you with ease; your slick walls welcoming his finger, the feeling causing both you and Jay to let out a moan. Jay gave you no time to get used to his finger filling you up before suddenly curling it, and judging by the whimpers that were leaving your lips, Jay realized he must’ve found your g-spot.

Jay knew nothing about Sunghoon, your so-called best friend, but as he heard you whimper underneath him; he wondered if Sunghoon had ever had the opportunity to make you feel as good as he currently was.

The thought caused a burning feeling to spread across Jay’s chest, and he decided that if Sunghoon had ever made you whimper like you currently were; well, in that case, he was going to make you feel better than anyone else had ever made you feel before.

Feeling him slip yet another finger into you, another broken gasp left your lips as he began thrusting them out of you, before plunging them back into you. His tongue was still playing with your clit, the combination of both his tongue and his fingers caused you to squeeze your eyes shut as an overwhelming feeling of pleasure washed over you. 

‘’Jay,’’ You moaned, feeling a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach; Jay’s fingers thrusting into you while his tongue left kitten licks on your clit causing you to almost buck your hips against his face. Jay looked up at you, smirking against your cunt as he spotted your face. 

With your hair spread out on the pillow and your lips slightly parted, you looked just like what Jay had fantasized about in the darkness of his room while tugging at his own cock, broken whimpers of your name spilling past his slips each and every time. 

Only this time, it was broken whimpers of his name spilling past your lips, not the opposite; and Jay wondered if you had ever thought about him like this before, too.

Thrusting his fingers into you, he curled his fingers; both his fingertips grazing against your g-spot as he wiggled his fingers inside of you. Keeping his eyes on you, he watched as broken moans and whimpers left your lips as you tried your best to stay still; to no avail. How were you supposed to stay still, when Jay was currently fingering you unlike no one else had ever done before?

Jay held back a chuckle as he watched your chest heave up and down, your legs slightly shaking and threatening to lock him in place; not that he would’ve complained, if it was up to him, he’d spend all eternity between your legs - just to hear the sweet moans that left your lips as his tongue swiped against your clit and as his fingers got coated in your arousal. 

‘’Fuck, wish I could take a picture of you right now,’’ 

Jay’s sudden muffled confession caused you to whimper, clenching around his fingers; which most definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Jay. Cocking an eyebrow in surprise, you felt him chuckle against your cunt. ‘’Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’’

‘’Fuck, Jay,’’ You whined in response, feeling your orgasm approaching; which Jay did, too. feeling your walls beginning to clench around his fingers was the first sign that you were close, plus the fact that you were unknowingly trying to get away from his grip; your hips lifting off the mattress every now and then as he hit just the right spot with his finger or as he sucked on your clit. 

Detaching his lips from your clit, panting from the lack of oxygen as he pressed a sloppy kiss against your inner thigh; his fingers still thrusting in and out of you. ‘’Are you close, baby?’’ He let out, to which you only nodded in response. 

You wanted to tell him how good he was, how incredibly good he was making you feel and how close you were to making a mess all over his fingers; but you simply couldn’t. Almost like you had gone mute, the words refused to leave your throat; your throat dry as you panted, trying your hardest to form a sentence. 

Jay, however, noticed how you were struggling to speak as you began to move your hips in sync with his fingers in an attempt to chase your high, the sound of the base of his fingers coming into contact with your sticky entrance filling the room combined with your heavy panting and low whimpers.

Smirking against your thigh, he placed one last kiss onto the skin of your thigh. ‘’Then be a good girl and cum for me.’’

Curling his fingers one more time, harshly wiggling them around caused the knot that had formed in your stomach to finally snap. Letting your hands fall onto your sides, grabbing onto the sheets as your orgasm washed over you in an attempt to ground yourself; a high-pitched moan ripping through your chest as Jay felt you coat his fingers with your cum. Watching as your hole swallowed his fingers, Jay bit down on his bottom lip - hoping he’d one day get to experience you clenching like that around his cock.

‘’Good girl, that’s a good girl,’’ He cooed, gently stroking your thigh as your body trembled underneath him. ‘’Look so pretty cumming for me.’’

Once he felt your body beginning to relax, he slowly slipped his fingers out of your hole; placing a soft kiss against your now sensitive clit, making you whimper as you shook your head. Sitting up straight, he wiped his mouth using the back of his hand before once again climbing on top of you. A small smile formed on his lips as he came face to face with you, the fucked out state of you making him feel accomplished.

Using the hand he hadn’t used to fuck you, he gently stroked your cheek in an attempt to make you open your eyes. His smile only widened as your eyes fluttered open, you looking up at him through low eyes; his hand running through your head to help you come down from your high. ‘’You did really good,’’ He mumbled, leaning down to press a soft kiss on top of your forehead.

His words caused a small smile to form on your lips as you wrapped both arms around his neck once again. ‘’You did really good.’’ You mumbled in response, your eyes heavy and your whole body feeling slack from the overwhelming orgasm you had just experienced.

A chuckle was heard coming from the boy above you, his fingers still threading through your now messy hair. ‘’Did I manage to take your mind off it?’’ He asked, his eyes meeting yours. You only nodded in response, too tired to properly respond - which was more than enough for Jay. Leaning down once again, he pressed a soft kiss against the corner of your mouth. ‘’How about you spend the night, hm?’’

Pulling him closer to you, his musky scent engulfed you for the nth time that day; nodding your head once more, feeling Jay press a soft kiss against your shoulder as he hummed against your skin.

While Jay definitely had managed to take your mind off Sunghoon, you hadn’t left Sunghoon’s mind; not even once, no matter how hard he had tried to distract himself. And maybe, just maybe, if Sunghoon would’ve texted you five minutes earlier that day, you actually would’ve seen the message about him asking to come over.

And maybe, just maybe, if Sunghoon would’ve texted you five minutes earlier that day, you actually would’ve seen the message about him asking to come over.

[strangersteddierthings]

The Conversation

Final Part of The Interview [Part One] [Part Two] [Ao3]

Steve finishes putting on his boots, shoves a beanie on his head, and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading outside. Robin had texted when they left Pendleton so they should be arriving soon, and he wants to make sure the dogs stay clear of the driveway, and also finish some of the chores he is being lazy about. The mountain air is cold in February, and the snow is deep, but it's still warm for a winter day in Eastern Oregon.

His childhood house had been at the edge of a little forest. His current home is tucked away in the woods, trees for miles, and the nearest neighbor farther still than that. He's lived a lot of places, been able to see the whole of America almost, and in the process, he's learned that he'll always be a small-town boy. The real revelation is how at home he feels in this two-bedroom cabin sequestered away from any town at all. Sure, he's got to drive a little over half an hour to get to the nearest grocery store, but he's learned he likes that.

He's got 1600 acres of woods all to himself and the dogs. He's owned this property for almost four years, but recent events made him finally move out here. Originally, he'd bought it to make it as another flip project, but something in his gut told him to make it a vacation home / safe haven for his family instead. Robin, mainly, as a getaway from the LA life and overwhelming spotlight she'd started to face as her music career took off. He might be turning it into his permanent home and base of operations, but everyone knows they're still welcome.

Anyway, the day might be warm for winter, but the night won't be, so Steve sets his thermos on the top of the wooden railing of the porch and heads down the steps to the woodshed. The plan in the summer is to update the cabin, which includes adding central air and a good heating system, but until then, portable heaters are in the bedrooms and the wood stove gets the rest of the cabin. There's also plans to start the construction on the guest house. It's going to be a busy summer.

He replenishes the woodpile on the porch from the woodshed and debates chopping more but decides against it. That can be a tomorrow chore. Next is cleaning up the snow paths he's made previously. Doesn't want anyone falling on their ass on the way to the house, no matter how funny that'll be to watch. As usual, Pancake makes the task difficult because she wants to play with the snow shovel. Melody cries until he throws snow into the air by the shovel full for her to play in. Chowder, old man that he is, supervises from the porch, front paws hanging just off the top step.

It's rough going but he manages to complete the few chores, even with two dogs underfoot.

Steve is on the front porch, forearms holding his weight as he leans against the railing, thermos of coffee between his hands, taking in the afternoon sun and enjoying the silence when Dustin's work truck slides into the driveway. Almost literally, given the foot and a half of snow still on the ground. The driveway is long, okay. Steve's doesn't have enough time in his day to keep up with salting it all.

It'll be strange to see Eddie after all these years. He still can't believe Robin got him to come. When he'd asked how she did it, she brushed him off with an it's not important.

Speaking of Robin, she's the first person out of the truck, sliding out of the passenger seat and then cursing when she drops right into the snow. She shoots an accusatory look towards the cabin, and therefore Steve, like he placed the snow there himself, when the fault is Dustin, who has left the driver side with plenty of room between the truck and the snowbank.

Dustin gets out of the truck and Steve faintly hears him say this side, man, less snow before pushing his door closed and turning to brace himself as Pancake and Melody rush from the porch to circle like sharks, barely restraining themselves from jumping up. Chowder follows after slowly, taking his sweet time getting to Robin, his favorite human. Steve can't even be jealous about that because Robin is his favorite human, too.

The back driver side door opens, and he watches as Eddie Munson all but falls out of the truck. It's the least graceful anyone's looked getting out of the back of the truck and that's counting Chowder and his old man hips. Seeing Eddie again is- well, it's a lot of emotions all at once, but they're are all overshadowed at the moment by how Eddie looks... well, bad. His hair is longer than Steve's ever seen it, a little longer than mid-back length, but it looks like it hasn't seen a proper hair brush in a couple of days. Even from this distance Steve can see the bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He pushes himself off the railing and meanders down the two steps, waiting for them to notice he's waiting. Robin trudges out of the snow berm and to the front of the truck, where Chowder is waiting patiently for his pets and kisses. Dustin has managed to get Melody to stop hopping in front of him so she can get her side scratches, and Pancake has realized there is a new, third person with a set of hands currently not petting her, and is circling Eddie, waiting for him to reach down and pet her but he just stands completely still, heading tracking her in her circles.

"She's friendly, I promise," Steve calls out, which makes Eddie's head snap up to look for the source of the voice. Well, everyone looks, but Eddie looks like he's seeing a ghost, which. Fair. Steve kind of feels the same way.

"Hello, Dingus," Robin calls as she stands from her crouched position, where she's been cuddling Chowder. As soon as she stands, he starts making his way back to the porch. "I have delivered one Edward Keaton Munson. You are not allowed to ask anything of me for, at minimum, a year."

"Steve! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Eddie Munson?" Dustin shouts.

Robin is scoffing, clearly offended. "Am I not famous enough for you Henderson!?"

"Get back to me when you've run a 24-hour Dungeons and Dragons live stream for charity!" Dustin shoots back, then has to dodge Robin's half-hearted punch aimed for his arm.

Eddie stays silent, looking more pale than when he got out of the truck. Steve's a little concerned he's going to faint.

"You been living under a rock, Dustin?" Steve asks. "My knowing him is apparently the only thing on the internet currently."

Dustin puts his whole head into the eye roll. "You spend a month backpacking with your girlfriend in the southern hemisphere and you never get to hear the end of it. I told you I'd catch up on your drama after I catch up on my DnD Live Plays."

"You also missed me winning a Grammy, you know."

"I thought Steve's thing was more important?"

"You are impossible, Henderson."

"You guys going to argue in the snow all afternoon, or do you want to come inside?" Steve says then places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Melody and Pancake dash for the front door, where Chowder is already waiting. Dustin, Robin, and a still eerily quiet Eddie fall into line to walk the trail to the porch Steve had cleared.

Steve jumps the steps, grabs his thermos, lets the dogs in, and then holds the door for everyone else. Robin and Dustin breeze past, but Eddie slows, eyes jumping around Steve's face as they just look at each other for a moment. Eddie opens, then closes, then opens, then closes his mouth.

"Hi," Steve offers up, shifting a foot to hold the door open so he can wave his fingers at Eddie.

Eddie swallows thickly, then whispers back, "hey."

"In the house, Eddie. Don't want to let too much cold in," Steve tilts his head towards the doorway.

"Oh, right, sorry," that kick starts Eddie again and he crosses the threshold, Steve close behind.

Robin and Dustin are currently occupying the bench just inside the door, taking off their shoes. Once Dustin has his boots off, he leaves the bench, heading to the kitchen. Eddie seems lost, just standing in the entryway, so Steve takes the spot Dustin just left and proceeds to undo the laces on his boots. He gets one boot done by the time Robin stands, wandering after Dustin once she's hung up her coat, scarf, and gloves. Eddie doesn't move still, so Steve pats the empty spot beside him.

"No shoes in the cabin. Dogs track in enough snow, don't need us doing it too," Steve says, then busies himself with his other boot.

He sees Eddie sit and begin to untie his- jesus, he's not even wearing boots. Just a black pair of sneakers. Eddie unties his shoes in silence, sitting rather stiffly next to Steve.

This quiet, obedient Eddie is not what he expected.

"You want something to drink?" Steve asks, once both of them are free of their shoes.

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Have a seat, then," he gestures towards the couch. The cabin door opens up directly into the living area, which Steve has set up as 3/4th a living room and 1/4th dining room, in that a small kitchen table is along the far wall. Beyond that wall is the kitchen, where Robin and Dustin are undoubtedly helping themselves to his coffee or hot chocolate.

Eddie shuffles off to sit on the edge of the couch, as close to the armrest as he can get. Now that Steve can see him closer, he can see he's added more piercing to his face than just the eyebrow ring he wore in high school. Snake bites, a septum piercing, and a second eyebrow ring next to the original. He's sure that if Eddie's hair wasn't covering his ears, he'd see more metal there. Eddie had hung up the coat he'd been wearing but under that is a hoodie he didn't take off, so Steve can only guess if he ever got those tattoos he'd been planning in high school. His entire outfit is black, which just makes him look sickly in the cabin lighting.

Steve drops himself into the chair facing the couch. It's Melody's favorite chair to curl up in, but Steve thinks she'll forgive him for taking it. There's tension in the room, so he tries to break it. "You look like you've seen a ghost, dude."

Eddie makes a weird nose, almost a whimper or a whine, but before he can say anything, Robin rounds the wall, holding a mug of hot liquid and she says, "Oh, I'm sure he feels that he has. I didn't tell me we were coming to see you."

"Robin!" Steve is shocked.

"What? You said you wouldn't mind getting some closure, so I got him here. Does it matter how?" She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, making a show of how comfortable she is in the space by sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the couch, in comparison to Eddie who is sitting up completely straight, barely on the couch with how close to the edge he's sitting.

"Yeah, it does! If he's not here voluntarily- if Eddie doesn't want to talk to me you can't-"

"I do," Eddie says. It grabs Steve and Robin's attention and Steve sees Eddie almost wilt under their twin stares. He clears his throat before continuing, "I mean, I would have come still, if she'd told me. I do want to talk to you. Apologize for.... for everything. So much I don't even know where to begin, or how."

"Uhh, this feels like something personal," Dustin says from where he's standing with his own mug, hovering nearby. "Should I be here for this?"

Good question. Steve doesn't care if Robin and Dustin hear what they talk about, but Eddie might. "How about we just relax a bit. How was the drive?"

Eddie scrunches his face, a half confused expression on his face.

"Fine," Robin says at the same time Dustin says, "Tense as fuck."

"Those two things don't seem like they match," Steve says.

Dustin moves to plop himself on the couch in between Eddie and Robin, then quietly curses as his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. He starts mopping at it with the sleeve of his shirt as he says, "Robin is a liar. The tension in the truck is going to linger that's how bad it was. I'll be feeling the tension every time I get in the rig. Clients will feel the tension when I pull up to their curbs!"

"It was not that bad!" Robin swats Dustin. Successfully this time, since there's no way for him to dodge unless he wants to spill his drink again.

Steve just laughs. "Robs, light of my life, mate of my soul, knowing you and your grudges, Dustin's probably going easy on the description of the tension here."

"Well, there wouldn't be tension if I was allowed to say what I want to say."

"Can we go, like, five minutes without your negativity?"

"My negativity!? I'm not negative, I'm rational and level-headed!"

"You are not sounding very level-headed right now."

Dustin chimes in, "Steve's right. Level-headed people don't have to shout that they're level-headed."

"What say you, Eds?" Steve asks, the old nickname slipping out. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it though.

Eddie stands quickly and flings his hands in the air, having reached an invisible limit Steve is unaware of, pacing about the living room as he basically shouts, "Why don't you hate me!? You should hate me! I hate me! I can't- why are you just sitting there, trying to have a-a decent conversation with me? You should be screaming at me! You should be mad! Why aren't you? My fuckin' song ruined your life!"

The silence in the living room is heavy following that, all eyes on Eddie. Even the dogs, who had been in various states of sleep, lift their heads and look in Eddie's direction.

He looks mortified by the out burst, and his face turns red. "I-I'm sorry. I- I'm just, I'm sorry. I need air."

They all watch silently as Eddie jams his shoes back on and goes out the front door without tying them or grabbing his coat.

Steve sighs, deep and annoyed. At Robin and himself. He looks to Robin and she looks shocked by Eddie's outburst. She was watching the door, but turns her head to meet Steve's eye, a small frown on her face.

"Well, it's not like he's going far," Dustin says. "You going after him?"

"I don't know if I should."

Dustin scoffs. "Don't be an idiot, of course you should. We drug that guy to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. He agreed to come to the middle of nowhere even though I could have been a hit man hired by Robin to off him in the woods and he didn't even complain. Didn't even question. I don't know what happened, but I think you two need talk it over."

Steve blinks at Dustin. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just refuse to see it with your ageism. Go. Robin can fill me in on the beef, here in the toasty, cozy cabin, while you two chat in the cold, and freeze your asses off."

"I don't have ageism-"

"Wrong argument to be having, Steve!" Dustin interrupts. "And take another cup of coffee with you. Even if he doesn't drink it, dude doesn't have gloves either so y'know, warm the hands."

Steve does just that. Fills his other thermos with coffee, taking a chance by adding cream and sugar, before putting his boots, coat, and beanie back on. He throws Eddie's coat over his arm and tucks both thermos' against his body with that same arm so he can have a free hand to open the door.

Eddie isn't far. He's pacing back and forth in front of the truck, talking to himself.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve steps off the porch and makes his way to Eddie. "Hey."

The pacing stops and Eddie turns to look at Steve. They just look at each other as Steve approaches. Steve doesn't stop until he's close enough to reach out and touch before he shuffles the two thermos's to his other arm and extends the one with Eddie's coat on it out.

"Thank you," Eddie says, taking the coat and shoving himself into it quickly.

"Brought you coffee, too," Steve holds out one thermos and after a pause, Eddie takes it, too, then almost instantly brings his other hand up to cradle it, warming his fingers.

He looks up from the thermos and meets Steve's eye. "I am sorry, Steve. I'm sorry for how things ended between us, and for the song I wrote, and for-for not thinking about how people would be able to work out that you were the Steve from Hey Steve. You should hate me for that alone. I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because I didn't think of the consequences."

"I don't- I don't hate you man. Not... not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Well, you should!"

Steve frowns. He wants to argue because who is Eddie to tell him how he should feel? But that's not going to help anything. "When Robin called me. During her interview after the Grammy's and asked if she could tell the truth I never- I didn't know what she meant by the truth. But. Well, nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't the full story."

Eddie stays silent, seemingly waiting for Steve to continue.

"Those first two years after our breakup were- I'm not going to lie, they were fucking awful. I think I received my first bit of hate mail the very same day Hey Steve released. It was harsh. All from the same person, but sent to my Facebook and my Twitter and Instagram. Guess they really wanted me to read it.

"And then, with each passing day, a new person, new message, just as awful. After three days I deleted Instagram and Twitter. Then I locked down Facebook but like- physical letters showed up at my house. I can't lie, it certainly felt like you'd ruined my life."

Eddie makes a wounded sound at that. "That's because I did! What I did was unforgivable and-"

"You don't get to decide for me if I forgive you or not!" Steve snaps. "I haven't actually said I did forgive you, did I? All I've said is I don't hate you."

That gets Eddie quiet again for a moment, then he says, "you ended up hospitalized because of me."

"Robin said I ended up hospitalized, and that's true, but it wasn't- It was more complicated that just being your, and your fans', fault. For people who were supposedly on 'your side' of our breakup, they used a lot of homophobic language. That's how my mom found out. The letters were easy enough to just get rid of because all the bad shit was on the inside, but someone sent a post card, and mom collected the mail that day. It's... I don't like talking about this."

"Then don't," Eddie is quick to say, "you don't have to explain anything to me, or make yourself relive these events. It's- you don't owe that to me."

"I think I need to. I wrote you a song, said I'd do it all again, and I meant that. I want you to understand why. Just. Just give me a minute."

Eddie nods and takes a sip of his coffee. He looks pleasantly surprised and takes bigger drink before his face falls into a frown as he stares down at the thermos and Steve has to look away. He turns and squeezes his eyes shut to continue. "Mom showed the postcard to my father, and he confronted me that evening. It was.... it didn't start off bad. He asked if it was true. That I was gay. I made a choice, then. I didn't have to; I could have lied. I could have told him I was straight and that I didn't understand what the postcard was saying, but I didn't.

"I knew how he felt about queer people, and I told him the truth anyway. I was bisexual. I thought it was a miracle that he didn't kick me out instantly. Instead, he calmly asked me if that meant I liked woman. I said it meant I liked more than just woman.

"Then he told me that didn't matter. That so long as I liked woman, I would be with a woman, and that we never had to speak of this again. And I told him no. He didn't get to decide that for me. He said that he would rather have a dead son than a faggot one. And I thought- I never- surely he was just meaning, like, metaphorically, right? Like, he'd disown me, kick me out or something so I scoffed and said- God, I was so stupid. I knew it wasn't safe, but I was so angry at him, I shouted 'dead or alive, I'm your faggot son so deal with it.' And he- he said 'dead it is' and he attacked me."

He hears Eddie suck in a breath, hears the crunch of snow in what could only be Eddie taking a step towards him but stopping after just one step. Steve doesn't know if he wants Eddie to close the distance and give him the hug he knows Eddie wants to do. Steve doesn't know if he'd welcome the embrace or not. He sucks in his own shaky breath, and continues, "He almost beat me to death that night. The only reason he didn't was because mom dialed 911," Steve turns around, looks at Eddie and sees the tears falling down his own face reflected on Eddie. "As far as I know, dad's still serving time for his attempted murder, so like, at least I don't have to worry about him. And mom... I don't even know what to think of that.

"She called 911, didn't want to see me die, I guess, but also couldn't have a gay son. She sold the house, and everything in it, while I was still in the hospital, and just... disappeared. Robin's family took me in. She told that story during the interview, you knoe, but I wasn't even at the house when that guy with the gun showed up. I was meeting with a lawyer.

"She-Mom was- I don't know what she was trying to do but she gave me the family business. The whole company! It felt like she was trying to buy my forgiveness, except she didn't ask for it and still hasn't contacted me. It's like... she felt guilty about what happened but hated me at the same time. Felt she needed to do something to alleviate her guilt? Or maybe she just wanted to cut herself free of the whole Harrington name; free herself from me and my father. I don't think I'll ever get closure for that one."

Steve quits talking, needs to take another moment. He'd already rambled on about more than he meant to but talking to Eddie had always done that to him. Afterall, before they dated, they'd been friends. He sips at his coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know- It's no excuse but I'm just so sorry."

He doesn't think Eddie knows he called him Stevie, but it's nice to hear. "So, see, it wasn't your fault. Your song set things into motion, for sure, so it's nice to hear an apology, but like, if anyone is the bad guy in this situation, it's Richard Harrington."

"But Robin said she just had to help you move to here. That you still get hate mail, and doxxed. That's on me. I saw your list of addresses, Steve! You've had to move, like, eight times a year!"

Steve can't help the cackle that springs from him. He surprises himself with the laugh, and Eddie, too, if his wide eyes and eyebrows hidden behind his bangs are any indication. "I- yeah, I move a lot. And yes, this most recent move was because of a brick with Hey Steve scratched into it broke my living room window, but like, I've only had to move because of harassment like, four times, if I'm counting the whole mom-selling-the-house thing."

"What?"

Steve holds up a finger, adding a new one as he counts them out. "Mom sold house. Scary gun guy at Robin's. The year anniversary of your first album's release. I was still in Hawkins, figuring out what to do with all the money I'd, uhh, inherited I guess, so I was easy to find. And the most recent one. Not sure what inspired it this time. Usually, the hate mail resurges when you go on tour, but it's less and less every time. Anyway, none of those other moves are because of crazy fans."

Eddie blinks at him, a picture of confusion. "But I found a YouTube video and that guy- he showed all your old addresses. He said- I thought..."

"Well, there are a lot of addresses. But not because of your fans. I move for my job. Do you... did you even read the truck?" Steve gestures to Dustin's truck and Eddie steps around to see the printed H&H Project Flip and below that is their website.

Eddie looks back to Steve like that answers nothing. Which, fair, but it would answer a lot of questions if Eddie had looked up the website. "After that surge of anniversary hate, I knew I needed to get out of Hawkins. Robin was graduated, then, and headed to college. I decided I wanted to see more than just Hawkins. I followed Robin to college in Chicago, and uh, bought a house. A real fixer upper but that was fine. I had plenty of money to throw into it. On a whim I thought, what if I try to fix it. I had a lot of free time and if it ended up badly, I could afford to pay a professional to fix whatever I broke. I found that I loved doing that."

He's still just being looked at like he's not making sense.

Steve rolls his eyes, "I flip houses, dude. Me and Dustin. Harrington and Henderson Project Flip. I was in Chicago for three years, lots of addresses for that city. But then Robin pointed out there were a lot of states. That I should see all 50 of 'em by renovating a house in each. She'd moved in with her then-girlfriend by this time, so she said I should go. See the States at the least. So, I did. I find it easier to just live in the house I'm renovating, so I'm not paying mortgage and then rent somewhere else in the same city."

Eddie looks like he's had a rug pulled out from under him and he lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical.

"And moving so much has allowed me to meet so many amazing people, y'know? I got friends in all the states. So, like, yeah, you did ruin my life, but like, just my life from 18 to 20. So, yeah, I'd do it all again. Did you think I've been living in perpetual misery for the last ten years?"

"Robin certainly made it easy to assume that, so yeah!"

"I think she did that on purpose. To hurt you back."

"I deserve it," Eddie says. "I didn't even try to check in on you. Well, once, but when I couldn't find you on any socials I just. Gave up."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't reach out either. And if you'll remember, I broke up with you. Screamed in your face that we were over and went home."

"I don't know when, or even if, Corroded Coffin will tour again, but I swear to you, we'll never play or release Hey Steve again. And I'll release a statement, or go on camera, or something, and address this. I can't make it right, but I can make a change starting now, to do better and be better," Eddie says this while gripping his thermos to death.

"I believe you, and I forgive you."

Eddie nods grimly, then looks from Steve to the cabin, and back to Steve. "Do you think Robin will ever forgive me?"

"I don't know. You hurt her pretty badly, too. We were all best friends in school and when we broke up, you cut off Robin, too. And then, when she started to gain her own fame- I think when she first moved to LA, she thought you'd try to reach out. But you never did."

A silence falls over them, and Steve refuses to break it. He's done enough talking. They drink their coffees 'til they're empty before Eddie speaks.

"Where does this leave us?"

Steve thinks about it before answering. "You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend. You'd been in my life longer than you've been out of it. We don't have to be anything. We can have our closure and go our separate ways, if you'd prefer. But, I think I'd like another chance at being your friend."

"I can do friend," Eddie says slowly, like he's picking his words carefully. "I can. But, full transparency, I think I still love you."

It hurts to hear, after all the pain and the time, and it's a bittersweet kind of hurt. "I'll always love you, Eds. I meant it, you know, every word of the song. But I don't know if we can, or should, try again. We were so good until we weren't."

Tears spring from Eddie's eyes when Steve says he loves him, and they don't stop falling even as he's nodding along with everything Steve says. "No, I know. I know. I just, I needed you to know. Friend is, it's so fucking great. More than I ever expected, and certainly more than I dared hope."

"Come on. Let's go inside where it's warm and chat with Dustin and Robin like civilized people. I need a break from the heavy talk."

"Yeah. Me too. Thank you, Steve. For the chance."

Steve shrugs and shoots him a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, ruin this a second time and Robin will rip you to shreds on live TV, probably."

There's more to talk about. More hurts to heal and things to discuss, Steve knows. And maybe after all the talking, they'll learn they've changed too much to even be friends. But that'll be okay, because if that's how it goes, it'll be because they talked it out instead of screaming at each other in a living room.

If they've changed too much, this time, it'll end gently.

It doesn't stop Steve from letting a little bit of hope in. That this won't end, that they can find a way to be in each other's lives again.

As friends, or more.

[goldfinchwrites]

Genre: ghost story, gothic, psychological horror, literary-upmarket

Demographic: adult

Form: novel

Progress: third draft complete (soon seeking beta readers)

Inspiration: Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, the short fiction of Shirley Jackson, Twin Peaks, Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, the poetry of Charles Baudelaire, Yellowjackets, Possession (1981), Ethel Cain’s discography, A Rose for Emily by William Faulkner, the behaviour of cuckoos, the limestone quarries of South West England

Aesthetics: rotting apples fallen from the tree, chainsmoking, Bathstone, stigmata wounds, tradgoth fashion, flies, dust, decaying autumn leaves, pastoral bliss corrupted

Synopsis: In the drought-ridden Somerset town of Twygrave, eighteen-year-old Peter Linwood gets trapped in the disused limestone quarry. With his loss sparks a chain of events that have Violet Spencer, his stepsister Grace’s best friend turned bitter nemesis, leaving the town – and the country – seemingly for good.

Six years later, with Peter recovered, it’s the brilliant, magnetic Grace now missing, and all her husband Malcolm can do is adjust, a plan is thwarted by Violet’s sudden return. Violet reattaches herself to the charming (and wealthy) Linwood family, tries to make a tentative truce with Malcolm, and reunites with her teenage sweetheart Rhona, but cannot ignore the inexplicable happenings within the town that can only be described as a haunting.  Violent and Malcolm find themselves lost in horrifying revelations that call into question what happened to Peter in the quarry, what Rhona might be hiding, and just who Grace, the woman they all loved and despised, really was.

(In other words, my 'main' project, the thing I've been working on since the summer of 2022 and have been really nervous to post about, finally here!)

[nineteennineteenrootbeer]

"𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐫"

𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 | ¹⁵ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ˢᵉʳⁱᵉˢ..

DAY 4

putting up the christmas tree with your little family. SHORT READ!

"goddammit.." elvis mumbled as he tried to thread the pine-colored hook through the top of the round ornament. his first summer with his little girl already had him stressed.

see, he's never been a daddy before, and he feels as if he needs to make little lisa's christmas go exactly as excellent as it possibly can. even if she's down for a nap and can't see the struggle he's going through, he still feels that weight on his shoulders.

until your touch snaps him back into reality.

you gently place your hands on his shoulders, then on his own large hands. your delicate fingers work infront of him, showing him once more that he has to untie it before threading it through.

he can't help the smug little smirk that plays on his lips when you help him with things.

he's usually the one that takes care of you, but every dog has his day.

"aren't you just the cutie-est lil' helper there ever was?" he teases, pulling his hand back to give your rear an endearing pat.

he watches as you laugh, as your eyes sparkle and shimmer with that love that he's never once seen fade. not even during your harshest arguments.

seeing you on your tiptoes to reach the tree and wrap lights around the branches made of tinsel made his heart swell with love. he comes up behind you.

"no, no i got it," you insist.

"baby, look at'cha. just lemme help ya'." he responds, laughing and shaking his head.

once you two have finished your little project for the day, he wraps his arms around you and gazes at your finished product.

"well, i think it looks pretty darn good." he stated, his eyes drifting over back to you as if he couldn't look away for more than a minute.

you hum.

"me too. gotta put the angel up top, though." you remind him, gesturing towards the old angel tree topper that elvis has had since his young days with his mama.

he puts it on the tree for the millionth time in his life and his eyes swell a bit, wishing that his beloved mama was here.

you notice ofcourse, wiping his tears.

"oh elvis, i know you miss her. but look what we have now. we have our own little family now," you smile sweetly.

elvis smiles back, glancing at the ring on your finger is all he has to do to remind himself that everything he's been through led to this.

[athena-xox]

Ever After High Facebook posts of note 👀

They give a lot of quotes from characters we don’t see in any other media

I definitely recommend checking out their Facebook because they give a lot of friendships there. Every post is linked

Also I’m making a post about all the confirmed birthdays later, keep your eyes peeled

They post this June 7th 2013, possibly written by Giles Grimm to the students/rebels/raven

I’ve got no clue what this means and what they’re referring to but they say this about apple and briar “The Ever After Royals hope to put their best foot forward in the Forever After Reveal! Hex in daily beginning 6/24 to discover the whole story behind these best friends forever after” (post here) they also make a similar post about all the rebels here.

Briar referred to as an it girl #canon

Rebel inspiration post

They announce the legend of shadow high

Post about dex and dare

They make a post about tiny before any chapter two characters 😭😭

Even though confirming she’s a myth they quote cupid saying she can’t wait to discovers her destiny …

A scroll Apple sent her mom…

Raven talking about cerise

Quote from Daring (I’m not sure if this is in any other media or not)

Apple quote on destiny

Cedar quote

Confirming the charming brothers + their roommates as friends

Hopper quote

Confirming that years are chapters? Or months? Either way new years post. Separate post about briar planning the party

Blondies thoughts on Raven not signing

Blondie on huntlynn

Sparrowchess confirmed on sparrows side ??

Cupids arrow

I just thought this was cute - Dexter watching romcoms - possible dexven

Every four years coach gingerbread makes winter games

Leap years canonically exist

Ashlynn plans Hunter a surprise birthday party

Spring unsprung is confirmed to be the first day of spring … even though true hearts day is said to be in spring. Although this is posted before both spring unsprung and thronecomimg come out. It’s bizarre that they talk about wonder though.

Cedar is confirmed to be like her dad

Blondie goes to the tower salon monthly

Cedar accidentally tells something about or to Raven … we don’t know what though

There’s a forest full of charming family trees, likely more than dex and daring mention in Blondie branches out

Daring quote

Both Maddie and Apple the student presidents support courtly in going to eah

They make a post about Maddie’s mh reference

Dappling art??

Whatever the heck this means about Farrah and Ash. “They’re united by a magical friendship that lasts for centuries.” Do they mean like the past cinderellas and godmothers???

Magazine about eah. Yall does anyone have this?? I want to know what interesting facts it says about briar

They asked if cedar should follow her destiny or fully commit to being a rebel … but they don’t do anything else with cedars plotline

Darabella propaganda 😒

WAIT WHAT MONSTER HIGH?!?!

More darabella propaganda

Barbie reference??? “Fairy secret”

Castle designs is possibly not a class but a summer break project

They learn about our world ?? They are a globe of earth

They spellebrate Halloween (this is after they say it’s a new school year so it could be a new thing Cupid taught them)

Yall don’t be surprised Disney canceled them… look at the book Rosabellas reading…

They spellebrate thanks giving (in November)

[loving-n0t-heyting]

when he was alive, my grandfather owned a countryside mansion and a surrounding estate, where he ran a small niche farm business. not when he died, he had sold it a couple years prior once it became apparent he was in no position to tend to the business, but that was only very late in his life. he cared for the farm, and the house, very assiduously well into his old age—in fact, the whole thing was a "retirement" project for him, after retiring early from work in govt

americans rhapsodise far too much abt small mom-n-pop businesses in general and small family farms in specific, frequently to the point of institutionalised corruption. but its impossible for me to think of the manor and the farm except admiringly. he sunk an enormous amount of elbow grease into both, extending/refurbishing the house and maintaining the business. he was compulsively industrious and astonishingly mechanically gifted, and the whole place had the constant feeling of a workshop. the farm was of course the main work, but he would always be exercising some other outlet for his tinkering impulses, too. a lot of my fondest childhood memories come from summers up there. im not the only one to remember the place fondly, either; a lot of his regular customers were regulars for a reason

i learned recently that the couple to have purchased the estate seem to have within a couple years of the transfer wound down the old business to convert the former farmgrounds into essentially a sweeping lawn with a handful of trees. i cannot see any evidence the building is being put to more than residential use, either. there are greater injustices in the world, and ppl cheated much much worse in them than my petit bourgeois workaholic grandfather with his lifes work posthumously converted into a temple of waste, but it still pisses me off. what was a site of productivity, smth to contribute value—real value—to so many families and customers, now just a combination of the most opulent form of pure consumer good on the one hand and a vessel for mere speculative value on the other. a source of human productive life, become a sink

[sourvers]

01: DON'T BE A STRANGER

chapter summary: a familiar face visits and asks for your help. the choice of refusal is dim.

⤷ this is the first chapter of 'Petrichor'! hope you enjoy lovelies. minor plot change for my heart's sake.

cod main masterlist . petrichor masterlist . ao3 link . next chapter .

The Yukon was pleasant and frigid beyond belief. 

Nevertheless, you craved haskap berries, and spring was inching over the horizon; crawling up your spine and shaking you alive. 

You sigh, gingerly closing your copy of ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’ , your hand instinctively tracing over the gold details as your French pronunciation lingers across the plain of your tongue.  

‘Vingt mille lieues sous les mers’ , You think, the ventures of Captain Nemo still fresh in your mind like Kate’s stilted voice reverberating in your ear: a siren, a horn, a whisper of dread you couldn’t shake. 

It started outside the grocery store, four days ago. 

Whitehorse was a 15-minute drive from your secluded home, found on the very outskirts of the capital and wrapped by lush pine trees. In the summer, grand fields of wildflowers spread across your horizon and became your choice of commerce during the warmer months, knowing how skilled local businesses made soap from dried fireweed. 

You drove into town to buy items you had put off: flour for the pie, extract, a new toothbrush after your other snapped in half, and red yarn. 

The locals kept to themselves and united all at once. A strange, inexplicable harmony you couldn't penetrate or grasp. Perhaps years of unyielding winters carve and shape people, like a sculptor holding the heart of their project. You hoped one day, you’d understand it too. 

Nevertheless, what you did understand was the townspeople's standoffish and overwrought nature. You were new to the town, a woman who only came to town to buy or sell, spending your ‘elusive’ days in or around the outskirts of your home or a vague “out” as you’d phrase it.

A group of the townspeople’s children even titled you the ‘Wicked Witch of the North’ after you accidentally struck over several vases during a summer market. While it was the talk of the town for several weeks; muttered under hasty quiet breaths despite being miles away, it was when the townspeople heard the most of your voice. From the strange resonance in your voice to how you pronounced your ‘o’s and ‘r’s. 

However, there was one citizen who seemed to find your presence jovial. 

“Oh my!” exclaims Sophia, her brown eyes gleaming under the fluorescent light of the grocery store; casting the small store in an odd shade of green, “Even you don’t come this late, what brings you here witch?” she teases, her bright smile flashing like headlights. 

“Well, I’ve come to pick up my ingredients,” you explain unfazed, your eyes scanning the shelves for your brand of flour,  “I have to keep up appearances of course. Can’t scare the children if I don’t tempt them with pie.” 

Sophia chuckles, her laugh bright and boisterous like the sun beaming down on you. “I suppose you can’t.” 

You scoff, yet, the subtle pull of your lips rivals your sarcasm. 

“You know, the new delivery of flour is behind,” Sophia smiles, “Small tip.” 

You take the one in the front, a small cloud of flour coming to life at your touch, “Thank you… I’ll take note of that.” 

Sophia smile dips and she sighs, tilting her head as she watches you promptly take what you need, contemplating for only a few seconds. 

“Do you have something to say?”

Sophia’s breath hitches, however, she gives you a small tentative smile, “You should come over… have dinner with my family some time, being alone in a place like the Yukon isn't good for the soul.” 

Your hand freezes as you reach for the vanilla extract, its sweetness exuding from the bottle like an elixir. Sophia’s eyes don’t reach you from behind the shelves. Despite being considerably older than Sophia, a part of you stung with childish envy. 

You sigh, and hum in mellow amusement, reaching for your thin wristwatch as you emerge from behind the shelves growing shadow, “And who told you that?”

“My grandmother,” stated Sophia, a small bud of pride growing in her chest, “She is our elder in the community.” 

The corners of your lips rise into a tentative and strangely warm smile, one of kinship even. “A wise woman I can surmise.” 

Sophia grins, “More than you can know.” 

Soon, you line your groceries on the belt and Sophia scans them silently. The beeping and incessant hum of the heater were the only words communicating in the air. 

“You must think I’m annoying.” 

You raise a brow, your eyes searching through your wallet before responding, “How so?” 

Sophia scoffs, “Well, I’m a nineteen-year-old store clerk who bothers a grown woman every time she shops. A bit of an asshole move if you ask me.” 

You let out a momentary laugh, swiping your card, “I’ve seen worse assholes, you’re by far the least dangerous.” 

“So I’m still an asshole?” 

“The good kind.” 

Sophia cracks a smile as she hands you the receipt, “If you let people know you more, they’ll like you.” 

“And why’s that?” you muse, stuffing the receipt in your jacket pocket while starting the car.

“I’m sure you know why,” states Sophia, “Don’t be a stranger.” 

You gaze at her, half amused, “I’ll take note of that.”

You amble towards the door, the sun long set as you reach for the door handle–

“Wait! God I almost forgot,” piped Sophia, “A woman came here earlier, I think she was looking for you given her description. Blond short hair, blue-greyish eyes I think? Anyways, do you know anyone like that? She spoke a bit fast too–”

Your eyes widen before promptly sharpening like the blade of a knife, “Thank you, Sophia. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“But wait-” 

You swing the door open, a blast of frigid evening air brushing against your cheek as the grip on your grocery bag tightens. You let out a slow, restrained sigh, tuning into the crunch of your boots on snow, leading you to your car. Despite the layers you wore, you still shivered as the moon gleamed down on you, its rays tender and soothing. 

Too soothing. 

“It's rather rude to not announce your presence,” you mutter quietly, lacking any bite as you sink your empty hand deeper into your right pocket, eyes fixed on your reflection in the car window and the crunching of snow.

“I hear the townspeople call you ‘The Wicked Witch of the North’, quite the title. I wonder what you did to get it.” 

You hum in amusement, gradually turning your head to face her, the first fall of snowflakes landing on the tip of your eyelashes, “What are you doing here Laswell?”

Kate let out a sharp exhale, a cloud of white rising into the atmosphere. She crosses her arms over her chest, “I need your help, but first, we need to talk.” 

Your eyes go up and down her figure, as your lips curve into a smile, ignoring her pensive face, “As punctual as always. But you didn’t come prepared did you?” 

“Winter’s never been my type.” 

“A shame, you’re missing out,” you quipped, turning your back as you opened the passenger door, “Come on, I don’t have a choice do I?” 

Kate gives you a small smile, uncrossing her arms and shoving her hands deeper into her thin coat pockets, “According to my weather app, it's expected to be spring soon.”

You scoff amused, “Word of advice? Don’t fully trust the weather app.” 

Kate’s smile falters and you become acutely aware of the paper cut between your fingers. You pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. Snowflakes collect on your windshield while the hum of your tires against gravel fills the silence; looping like a song’s beat, over and over. 

“Kate.” 

“Yes?” 

Kate turns her head to face you: your face stiff, steadfast, unwavering; gazing head-on into infinite darkness. Even now- face cast in the evening shadows and dim starlight- Kate’s stomach churned at the sight of you, twisting like a knot. You seemed to be untouched by time: delicate scars still engraved in your skin, acute angles and tender curves still bridging together the map of your face, sharp and ever more subdued. As if deep in slumber. 

It was just as Kate recalled it to be. 

“This ‘help’ that you’re going to ask of me,” you probe, eyes fixed on the road, Kate’s gaze burning through your neck scarf, “I won’t be able to refuse, will I?” 

Kate releases a strained sigh, leaning back into her chair, she gazes ahead. Frost grows on the window. “I don’t want to force you into anything.” 

“But it seems you’ll have to,” you reply smoothly, methodically as if in thought, “Don’t downplay yourself, the only reason I’m here in the Yukon is because of you .”

Kate stiffens and gazes at you shortly, awaiting your words behind the small, tentative pause. 

You shake your head and sigh, lowering your voice, the sound near soothing, “I owe you a debt I will never be able to repay.” 

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“And yet, here you are.”

You look at Kate for the first time since you’ve entered the car; a sly smile reaching your lips before your eyes swiftly dart away from Kate’s weary stare. 

She notices.  

“Now that we have that out of the way,” you begin, promptly, “What exactly do you need help with?”

“I hope you don’t mind being in a bit of a boy band.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “I think the Backstreet Boys are alright if that’s what you’re referring to.” 

Kate releases a laugh, “It’s a different kind of boy band.” 

Kate gave you a week to pack, say goodbyes if you had any, then depart. 

The file she had given was still placed, rather haphazardly, on your coffee table alongside your book while your craving for haskap berries gradually faded, melting into the Earth like snow. 

You sigh, gradually rising from the couch and crossing your arms. The file staring back at you, its contents spilled across the table while its words were thoroughly engraved in your mind. 

“A covert task force,” you muse, bringing one of the papers to your face, your eyes dancing over the lines, rearranging them like a puzzle, “Four members. All men,” you scoff, “No wonder Kate called it a boyband.” 

Kate had given you a considerable amount of time to pack despite not owning any items worth considerable significance. A duffel bag would do just fine, you’d wear your trench coat, and leave the winter gear behind. 

You haven’t even begun packing.

“God. I even bought groceries,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Might as well give it to Sophia for free.” 

After Kate stayed for that night, she left the following morning, her phone ringing call after call. 

“Busy?” 

“More than you can imagine.”

A part of you wondered why she decided to visit from the States; probing your mind until you wrestled in bed for an answer. She could have easily phoned you. Nevertheless, Kate plotted peculiarly. A method of thought meant for only those who understood. Perhaps she came to dangle the medicine for your terrors over your lips, to be of some consolation and company. Or more likely, to ensure the handcuffs around your wrists were still burning through your skin. 

“I never said we needed a new asset to the team.” 

Kate sighs, gingerly placing the cup of tea in front of John. Its smell quietly blended with the air, “You and I both know that we’ve run dry on information.” Kate pulled her chair open, taking a seat, “This friend of mine provides a new set of skills to the task force, something to give us an edge.” 

“Then why is there a strain in your voice?” 

Kate stares at John blankly, her voice low, grave even, “After what nearly happened to Soap, we should reconsider who we consider our assets and informants.”

John remains silent, heaving a sigh before gazing out the window, his eyes mellow for a brief moment. The cup of tea still untouched. “When is he coming?” 

A small smile reaches Kate’s lips, “Bold of you to assume it’s a he John,” Kate pulls out a thin file, its contents scarce, “She’s outsourced, not military but has more than enough skills to carry her weight.” 

John reaches for the file, his eyes scanning over the information: height, weight, eye color, name. 

‘Someone from the outside’ he remarks.

“No photo?” muses John, “She wears a mask like Simon?” 

“No time for a photo. Had to call her in quickly. Though, she prefers long coats instead of a mask.” 

John hums, amused, “Anything else I should know? Before telling the team?” 

Kate pauses, her small smile remains, her tone candid, “Negative.”