#I'm still really angry at the latest chapters i'm so sorry

[mmjlenmiku]

Natsu and Lucy carrying the shounen slowburn genre with their 10+ years of mutual pinning

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter v

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 14k+

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mean relatives, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecating in some areas etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, there is one scene depicting some physical violence (tame) , finally some fluff!, and I won't spoil any more

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: OMG....ignore the fact that this is releasing a month after ch. 4. 🫠 i'm sorry. On the bright side, I'm VERY excited to share this with you AND this actually isn’t the last chapter. There’s one more after! I hope you enjoy 🥰 ALSO, this is GP!Taehyung in this chapter (....😮‍💨)

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"This can't be right," you mutter to yourself for the umpteenth time, eyes heavily fixated on your laptop screen. You've been scrolling through the latest press releases all morning, a cup of tea growing cold beside you.

Ever since Jimin’s text last week, rumors about your ex-husband stepping down from his position at JeonX practically spread like wildfire, with nearly every journalist adding their individual spin on the matter—some suggest personal issues, while others hint at possible disagreements within the company.

Despite the influx of information, however, it all remains too vague and inconclusive. An official statement from the company directly would help clear up speculations, but it’s been crickets. Their silence only makes you consider the validity of the rumors even more.

Why would they make such a critical leadership change right after their newest product launch though?

This question, among others, continuously swirl in the back of your mind and you find the entire predicament ironic. You used to be one of the first to know the ins and outs of the company, easily able to distinguish the truth. Now, you're left in the dark like everyone else, dependent on the media for answers.

Before your eyes have time to skim the next group of articles on your screen, your phone rings.

It's Taehyung.

“Hey,” you answer casually, momentarily forgetting the significance of the call.

“Morning!” His voice is gravelly yet carries a cheerful tone. He seems quite upbeat for a foggy Saturday at 8 a.m. “Are you still okay to carpool to my parents' place today? Tan and I are on our way over.”

Dammit. Of course, this isn’t just any old Saturday—it’s the day of Taehyung’s family gathering. It had slipped your mind that you asked to ride together a few days prior. Given that it would be a five-hour long commute, driving separately seemed less convenient and enjoyable. Besides, you’d miss out on having Tan on your lap, his head poking out of the passenger-side window.

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”

“Great! See you soon.” Taehyung hangs up, and you put your phone down with a deep breath.

To be blunt, you're still extremely nervous about the affair. Surely his family knows who you are and has seen their fair share of articles about you. So how will they react when you show up next to Taehyung at their family function? He says they’ll like you, but it's hard to accept.

Nonetheless, you know how important this family gathering is to him and how much he wants you to be there. Not only is it a family event, but it’s also a celebration of his recovery from a motorcycle accident that could’ve been much worse.

As you pour your cold cup of tea down the sink, you try to push away the unsettling mix of thoughts, focusing instead on the next task at hand— how you should dress. Prior conversations with Taehyung advise you that something polished would be ideal for the occasion, as his family appreciates a touch of elegance, yet your mind blanks on a tangible option. Surely, there’s something in the back of your closet that would do the trick. Right?

Well…you’re right-ish.

Upon searching through rows of hangers, arms growing tired, you finally find a somewhat suitable sundress. You’re hoping it won’t look too casual, but you don’t seem to have a better alternative with your closet currently overtaken by work clothes.

Wasting no further time, you quickly slip the dress over your head and observe how it fits in the mirror. Not bad, you think, before deciding on a few complimentary jewelry pieces. The saving grace of this choice of clothing is that it can easily be dolled up, which is exactly what’s needed today.

Soon, you hear the muffling of an engine and when you peek through your bedroom window, you’re unsurprised to see Taehyung’s car pull into the driveway with a very excited Tan poking his head out from the backseat. A small smile forms on your lips at the sight.

Sparing one final look in the mirror, you slide into your shoes, toss your bag over a shoulder, and head outside to meet them.

“Hey!” Per usual, you're met with a warm smile as you hop into Taehyung's car but before you can return the greeting, Tan bounds onto your lap, tail wagging eagerly. “God, I’m so sorry about him,” Taehyung reaches for his dog, but you quickly reassure him it’s alright.

“I’m happy to see you too, Tan,” you laugh, petting him affectionately. Your focus then shifts over to Taehyung, "Thanks for coming to get me."

“Of course,” he replies, smile widening as he watches Tan settle into your lap. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me," he continues, pulling away from the curb. "My parents are looking forward to meeting you.”

You nod, trying to calm your fluttering nerves. “I’m looking forward to meeting them too.” This time, when you glance his way, you take in his attire—a crisp white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black dress pants. It’s a classic look, yet it seems oddly refreshing on him. It's not like you expected Taehyung to look bad or anything; far from it, but did he always have to look this good? A queasy feeling soon settles in the pit of your stomach...maybe you should have worn something else.

Before you're able to fully turn away from him, Taehyung speaks up. “You look really nice today,” he says softly, eyes lingering over your face and down your body before shyly refocusing on the road. “That dress is beautiful on you—it really suits you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply with a shy smile of your own, unexpectant of his comment. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Something about the subtle exchange of compliments stirs a bundle of nerves in both of you and even with averted eyes, neither of you finds it entirely unpleasant.

The rest of the drive is long, but luckily, soon fills with lighthearted conversation and laughter. It's become easier and easier to be around Taehyung, you think.

After more than a few bathroom breaks—mostly due to Tan’s persistent whining—you finally catch sight of Taehyung’s parent’s house.

It’s even more picturesque than you imagined, with its charming architecture and well-tended garden. In the distance, the ocean glimmers, tying the scene perfectly together.

“I meant to mention earlier, but my parents have an oceanfront view,” Taehyung says casually, pulling up to the house. “We can go down there later if you’d like. It’s private access.”

“Really?” You glance over at him with anticipation, your excitement clear. You can already taste the saltiness of the water. “If it’s really okay, I’d love that.”

“It’s more than okay,” he assures with a smile. “In fact, it’s a done deal. The best time to go is in the evening. We can even use the excuse that we need to take Tan for a little stroll if necessary. Family bonding can get a bit overwhelming without a few breaks.” He lets out a chuckle but stops when he notices your slightly demure expression.

“Hey,” he turns to you with gentle eyes. “Everything okay?”

You blink, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve gone to any kind of family affair. They know I’m coming, right?”

Understanding your apprehension, Taehyung shifts the gear into park and places a light hand on your arm. “Absolutely, and please believe me when I say they’re more than ready and excited to meet you. They’ve asked about you so many times—I’m pretty sure I’ve lost count. I’m really happy you’re here with me too, so I hope you don’t feel like you’re intruding because I promise you’re not at all. And if at any point you need a moment to yourself, take it. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible, and I’m confident my family will want the same.”

With his hand on your arm, you find yourself wrapping yourself in the comfort of the gesture, nerves slowly easing in the process. “Thanks, Tae,” you reply, feeling a tad lighter than before.

“Are you ready?”

You nod, signaling him to remove his hand to take the key out of the ignition. As his hand leaves your arm however, you feel a subtle, unexpected shift—wishing the warmth of his touch could linger just a moment longer.

But hold up.

Since when did he affect you like this?

Dwelling on it further proves to be futile because before you can blink, the house’s front door swings wide open, revealing an older, petite woman with a kind and inviting smile. You both step out of the car immediately, Tan happily trotting around the yard confidently.

The woman pulls Taehyung into a big hug once close enough, and it’s all the evidence you need to deduce that she must be his mother.

“We were wondering where you were!” she starts. “Everyone’s here except you.” It’s a light scold, not that Taehyung minds from the giant grin spreading across his face.

“Forgive me, Mom. I guess we’re fashionably late,” he replies.

Mrs. Kim looks up and down her son with adoration, hands still gripping his arms. “Look at you,” she coos, as if proud. “My son is so handsome. I’m so happy to see you here, healthy and well.”

“Mom, this is __.”

Her eyes then shift to you, standing somewhat awkwardly beside them. If possible, her warm expression brightens even more, taking you by surprise.

“My goodness, I’m being so rude," she says, stepping toward you. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you, honey. Are you okay with hugs?”

“Sure.” You offer a sincere smile and embrace her. When you do, you feel a sense of peacefulness that you hadn’t ever before, soothing any lingering tension. You can’t help but assume that many of Taehyung’s qualities must come from her.

“I’m so pleased that my son brought you today,” she says, pulling back from the hug. She takes in your clothing as well. “You're absolutely lovely, my dear. Doesn't this color work wonderfully on her?” She glances at Taehyung, who merely nods in agreement.

“You’re the one who looks beautiful, Mrs. Kim,” you return the compliment, feeling a tad embarrassed by all the praise. “I love your earrings by the way. Are they jade?”

She nods, pleasantly. “Thank you for noticing. They’re indeed jade. My husband gifted them to me for our anniversary last year. I told him he didn’t need to get me anything, but that man is so persistent. Speaking of which, you should come inside and meet him.” She turns around at once and ushers you and Taehyung into the house. He allows you to go first.

As you follow Mrs. Kim up the steps, Tan bounds ahead excitedly. The aroma of delicious food fills the air the further you walk, and soon you’re greeted by a cozy, homey atmosphere.

Finally, you find Taehyung’s father in the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink. “Honey, Taehyung’s here and he brought __ with him.” Upon hearing your name, the man quickly dries his hands on a towel and extends a friendly hand your way, eyes twinkling.

“Hello, __! I’m glad you could come today. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It’s gorgeous in here.”

“Well, we have our son to thank.” He directs his attention to Taehyung, reaching out and patting his son on the back with a proud smile. “He bought this house for us after all. He’s a good son.”

What?

You glance at Taehyung in surprise, intrigued to learn more about this new bit of information. However, seemingly flustered by the comment, you decide it’s better to save it for another time. His mother is quick to step in.

“Taehyung, dear, why don’t you show __ around and introduce her to everyone?” she suggests smoothly. “They’re all in the living room. We’ll gather everyone to have lunch soon.”

Taehyung nods at the suggestion and begins leading you through the house, until you reach the living room at the end of the hall. The room is even larger than you anticipated upon entering, its high ceilings finished with a delicate glass chandelier. A grand piano sits in the far corner as well where a number of children huddle together, each taking turns playing a few notes.

One by one, Taehyung starts introducing you to his relatives and despite your initial apprehension, each person you meet greets you with nothing but warmth and kindness. Not even a single person shows discomfort towards you or makes a dig into your personal life (though you’re certain they’re well aware of who you are). It’s no wonder Taehyung boasts about his family so often—they truly are a close-knit and respectable group of people.

At least, that’s what you think until Taehyung asks, “Where's Auntie and Uncle? I haven’t seen them yet.”

One of Taehyung’s cousins looks a bit hesitant before replying, “Oh, Tae, I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard anything from them so they might not be coming today. Maybe they had last-minute plans. It’s a bit of a shame, really.”

An odd silence settles over the room at this, conversations lower in volume, and a few knowing glances are exchanged among relatives. The abrupt shift seems to throw a wrench into your previous statement of closeness since, evidently, the absence of Taehyung’s aunt and uncle casts a dark shadow over the cheerful gathering.

Sensing an awkward lull, Taehyung tries to lighten the mood with a bright smile. “Well, I’m sure we’ll still have a great time. I’m just happy to see everyone here.” He gently redirects the conversation to something more upbeat, attempting to remedy the unusual tension.

Just then, a small figure bursts into the room, capturing everyone’s attention.

A little girl, no more than six or seven years old, runs straight toward Taehyung with arms outstretched. “Taetae!” she shouts, using the affectionate nickname as she latches herself around his legs.

Taehyung's face breaks into possibly the happiest grin you’ve seen in response as he kneels to lift her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggles. “Hey, sweetheart! I missed you!” His voice is filled with affection, though there’s a hint of shock as well.

Eagerly, the little girl secures her arms around his neck. “I missed you too! Mommy and Daddy said we might not be able to come, but here we are!”

“Well, I'm so glad! Have you been a good girl for your parents?” he asks with a playful tone.

The little girl nods vigorously. “Yes! I’ve been helping Mommy with so much lately.”

“Good job!” Taehyung says, giving her a high five.

You’re unsure exactly how the two relate, but the longer you watch the interaction unfold, the more evident it becomes that Taehyung’s a natural at connecting with children. His playful demeanor and patience make it clear that he has a special way with them. It’s heartwarming to see, quite honestly.

“Taetae, who’s she?” the little girl asks suddenly, her big, curious eyes setting on you.

Taehyung smiles and gestures for you to come closer. “This is __. She’s my friend.” He looks at you and adds, “This is my little cousin Eun-ha. We’re quite close.”

“Hi, Eun-ha,” you greet with a soft smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t return your greeting, but rather leans into Taehyung’s ear and whispers something you can’t quite hear.

Taehyung chuckles softly, though it does little to conceal your curiosity. “No, Eun-ha,” he says, shaking his head. “We don’t kiss like in my movies. But yes, she's very pretty.”

Though you wish otherwise, your surprise is barely hidden as you process the revelation.

“Why not?” Eun-ha asks, puzzled. “You kiss lots of pretty people in the movies.”

Flustered, Taehyung clears his throat. “Who’s letting you watch my shows? You’re a little young for those I think.”

“She likes to watch them when she can’t see you,” a new voice interjects.

Following the voice, you see two adults entering the room– Taehyung’s aunt and uncle. Their expressions are clearly stiff and somewhat distant, a stark contrast to the warmth of the rest of the family.

“Well, I guess it’s okay then,” Taehyung responds, maintaining his usual beaming smile. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s good to see you.”

His aunt and uncle offer polite but somewhat curt greetings.

“Glad to see you’re alright, Taehyung,” his aunt says, her tone lacking warmth.

“Hello,” his uncle adds, his expression neutral. “I see you’ve brought a guest.” He nods toward you.

“Yes, this is __,” Taehyung introduces you, “She’s a friend of mine and a colleague as well.”

The pair glance at you briefly, their eyes betraying a lack of interest.

“Nice to meet you,” his aunt says, though the thickness in her tone suggests otherwise.

“Likewise,” you respond, trying to match their formality with a friendly smile.

“You know, when I heard my nephew was bringing a guest, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect,” she continues, though the implication is unclear.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, trying to grasp her meaning.

“My apologies. I work as an editor for a journalism outlet, so I’ve come across your name before,” she explains. “It’s always interesting to see people in person after reading about them. I can’t say I ever imagined having the opportunity today.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to keep your composure. “I hope the coverage has been accurate.” You know they haven’t been, aside from a couple of progressive news outlets. Based on her rigid stare, you don’t think she belongs to either of them.

“They’re accurate most of the time,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Although, there are always…different perspectives on such matters.”

You offer a polite, tight-lipped smile in response. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, however, your hands unconsciously clench into fists at your sides, indicating your bubbling discomfort.

“Well, I’m sure those articles are just one side of the coin,” Taehyung chimes in, attempting to smooth over the conversation. “I’m of the mindset that you really don’t know a person until you spend time with them. And I can assure you, those overpriced tabloids have it all wrong.” He shoots you a reassuring look.

In the midst of it all, Taehyung’s father steps into the room, oblivious to the tension. “Alright everyone, it’s time to eat!” he announces, his voice carrying a cheerful note. “Let’s gather around now.”

Neither you nor Taehyung’s aunt speak another word to each other as you follow his father into the dining room. You take a deep breath along the way, an attempt to steady yourself.

As lunch begins, Taehyung’s father stands at the head of the table, a broad smile on his face as he raises a glass.

“We want to thank everyone for being here today to celebrate Taehyung’s recovery,” he begins, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. “We’re grateful for this family and for the love and support that has carried us through. To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” everyone echoes, lifting their glasses in a unified cheer.

From then on, the meal progresses smoothly, with conversation gradually returning to pleasant topics. Dishes are passed around, and laughter helps lighten the mood. Taehyung’s parents share stories of their journey together, their voices rich with wisdom and nostalgia. As you listen, you get a glimpse of the morals that have shaped their family. It’s so different from your own upbringing, and you feel honored to be a part of it today.

Yet it's still difficult to ignore the lingering heaviness in your chest from your earlier interaction with Taehyung’s aunt. Even now, her sour expression is directed your way, though she seems to withhold her remarks, perhaps due to Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s presence.

Don’t take this personally, you repeat in your head. There’s likely some underlying history or traditional views being projected onto you. This isn’t really about you…don't take it personally.

Midway through the meal, Taehyung’s mother intrigues everyone by pulling out a collection of old photographs. She begins sharing the backstories of various childhood photos of Taehyung, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy and amusement as she recounts each memory. Taehyung, visibly flustered, tries to hide his blush as his family teases him.

“Oh, look at this one!” his mother exclaims, holding up a particularly old photo of a much younger Taehyung with a hilariously exaggerated hairstyle. “He was so determined to be a rock star!”

The room bursts into laughter, and Taehyung grins sheepishly, his cheeks rosy. “Is this really necessary? I mean __’s here…”

“Come on, Tae, it’s cute!” you say with a smile, giving his arm a playful shove. As you do, Taehyung’s aunt’s eyes widen slightly. Her gaze shifts sharply between you two, and a flicker of disapproval crosses her face. You stop your playfulness upon first notice, finding it hard to ignore.

“It’s embarrassing,” Taehyung retorts, unaware of his aunt’s reaction.

“Oh hush,” his mother replies with a warm smile. “Let a mother indulge in the memories of her children. You’re all grown up now, and with your busy schedule, I hardly see you anymore.”

“Alright, fair point,” Taehyung concedes. “Carry on.”

When the meal winds down, Taehyung’s aunt clears her throat and speaks up. “Is everyone ready for dessert? I’ve baked a homemade cake,” she announces, tone carrying a hint of forced cheerfulness. Turning to you, she adds, “Would you mind assisting me in the kitchen, __? I could use an extra hand.”

Taehyung immediately offers to help, but his aunt insists on speaking with you alone, masking it as an opportunity to get to know you better.

Once you’re in the kitchen and away from prying eyes and ears, Taehyung’s aunt’s demeanor shifts abruptly. She returns to her previous blunt and unreserved nature. “I need to be honest with you,” she begins, her voice low and steely. “I don’t think you should be here.”

Her words sting, yet a part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s some merit to them.

“I know this is a family event, and I’m sorry if it seems like I’m intruding. Taehyung invited me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she dismisses, venom lacing her tone. “I mean, you shouldn’t be here with Taehyung.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to—”

“Oh please, don’t pretend I don’t have eyes, Ms. __,” she interjects sharply. The use of your formal name sends a chill down your spine. “You may be friends now, but I can see there’s more going on beneath the surface. Unlike the rest of my family, I won’t just stand by and let it happen. So, if you think you can charm your way into my nephew’s life just like you did with that ex-husband of yours, then you’re mistaken. I won’t allow you to ruin his life.”

Ruin his life? You ruined Jungkook’s life and now you are about to ruin Taehyung’s? Confused and hurt, you finally realize the root of the matter–she's convinced you’re a gold digger.

You’re stunned by the accusation, struggling to find words as she continues. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind either. Even if the articles aren’t exactly true, you still have a past, and Taehyung deserves better—someone without all these complications. Don’t you agree? Maybe if you hadn’t been married before and were ten years younger, things might be different. But honestly? A woman your age should already have a family of her own.”

Silence falls heavily in the kitchen after her final words, the only sound being your labored breaths. Your throat goes dry and your hands clammy as some of your deepest insecurities take root, striking right at your core.

It’s true—you’re 30 years old, divorced, and without children. It’s a stark contrast to your peers.

You’d always imagined your life turning out differently, but here you are, alone and without any kind of companionship. You weren’t expecting to be reminded of it all today.

“I think you’ve made yourself clear about how you feel,” a voice speaks up, and you think it’s yours, until you realize it’s much too deep.

Taehyung’s aunt looks momentarily stunned to see her nephew standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. But she quickly regains her composure. “Taehyung, I was just—”

“Please don’t,” he interrupts, voice firm. “If I had known you were going to be this cruel towards someone I deeply care about, then I’m sorry I invited you.”

He steps closer, his gaze unwavering. “You have no right to judge someone you don’t know based on rumors and assumptions.”

His aunt’s face softens, though her disapproval remains. “I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from my own choices,” Taehyung replies, his voice calmer. “I’ve made my own decisions, and __ is a part of that. If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should reconsider how you approach these situations.”

Taehyung’s aunt stands silent for a moment, her gaze shifting between Taehyung and you. She seems to weigh his words before finally nodding and turning back towards the dining room, her displeasure still evident.

Taehyung turns to you, his face etched with worry. “Are you alright?”

You hesitate, unable to give a clear response. “I… I think I need some air,” you finally say.

“Maybe it’s time we take that walk down to the beach,” he suggests gently. “What do you think? Of course, if you’d prefer to go solo, that’s completely your call too. I’ll understand either way.”

You nod, appreciating the idea. “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Let me grab Tan and we can head down,” Taehyung says with a reassuring smile.

The sound of the waves grows louder as you approach the ocean, providing a soothing backdrop to your racing thoughts. It's even more beautiful up close, you think, observing how the sun reflects off the water.

As you walk along the shore, Tan runs ahead, chasing the waves and barking playfully. The sight of him brings a small smile to your face, easing some of the heaviness in your chest.

Taehyung walks beside you, his presence peaceful, though neither of you are quick to speak.

Finally, after a few minutes pass, he breaks the silence.

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there," he says quietly. "My aunt's always had more traditional perspectives, but I didn’t know how rigid they’d gotten. Regardless of how she might've made you feel, I want you to know that you’re very important to me and I couldn't care less about what the public says. The rest of my family seems to love you too so far."

You take a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs. “It’s not your fault, Taehyung. But thank you.” You pause, your face visibly conflicted. “To be honest, I’ve heard variations of it before from other people. I just didn’t expect her to be so… direct.”

He nods, turning to you with sincerity. “I know it was hurtful, and even though I didn’t hear everything she said, you didn’t deserve it. It's not true, either.”

You manage a small, tight-lipped smile, but it hardly matches how you feel inside. “Well,” you begin, continuing your walk, “some of it's true, I think.” Taehyung looks at you with concern, though you struggle to hold his gaze.

“Wanna sit?” he suggests lightly, gesturing to a spot on the beach with a clear view of the waves ahead. "Tan'll be fine to roam around on his own."

You nod slowly in reply, a gentle breeze caressing your face and feathering against your legs as you move.

Once you reach the area, you tuck the skirt of your dress beneath your thighs and take a seat on the soft sand. Taehyung sits down beside you.

“So,” he starts again, his eyes never leaving your face, “what’s true?"

You take a moment, watching the waves crash against the shore before forming a response. “It’s just…” Your voice falters as you search for the right words. “I’m 30 years old. The natural course for someone my age is to have a family, a couple of kids, and of course, be married. Or at the very least, have a reliable romantic partner.”

“Instead,” you take a short breath, “it feels like I’m living in a completely different reality from everyone else. Divorced from a big shot CEO, without children, and painted as some kind of spinster or gold digger for the media to exploit. Being a woman, there's really no in-between which makes it that much harder to overcome."

Upon finishing your thought, an unmistakable nervousness bubbles up within you. Had you just overshared? Were you too honest? Although unsettled, everything in you hopes that you didn't just overstep your boundaries with Taehyung, as the two of you hadn't had this deep of a conversation before. You find yourself holding your breath as he replies.

"To have all that unnecessary pressure placed on you is unfair,” he says quietly. “I can’t imagine how tough it must be to feel disregarded and reduced to so little. I'm so sorry, __. I'm sorry that we gets so fixated on image and what’s deemed proper that we often forget the real meaning behind things. I know it might be hard to believe, but there’s more to your story than what others see or say. More than even you might think, too."

As if inevitable, your vision goes misty and a tear spills down your cheek upon hearing his words, though you're quick to wipe it away. It's not that the words themselves are monumental, but rather, they confirm the closeness of your relationship. Few people have ever understood or cared to understand you, so you had stopped expecting it altogether, especially after your divorce. Yet somehow, Taehyung always surprises you, being one of the few who truly does.

Feeling a bit more comfortable, you admit, "I know it's probably an overstatement, but I can't help but feel like I'm alone in ways that are hard to escape. Some days I just don't know what to do with it all. Does that make sense?"

“Sweetheart,” Taehyung says softly, taking the hand you used to wipe your tears and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his touch sends a comforting spark through you. He’s never called you that before, and it feels unexpectedly intimate—almost domestic, if you didn’t know better.

“It makes complete sense, especially given what you've gone through and still are. You don’t ever have to feel alone anymore though,” he continues. “I’m here for you. You have Jimin and Namjoon too. And the three of us? We’ll always have your back.”

Your eyes soften as you meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with such warmth and innocence, yet he hasn’t fully grasped the weight of your words.

“I appreciate it,” you say gratefully. “It’s not all one-dimensional, though. When I say I feel alone, I mean relationally as well because, given my age and marital status, it's unlikely I'll find any real companionship. I’m just considered ‘used goods' after all.”

“Used goods? Who the hell said you're used?” Taehyung’s voice rises, not in anger but in genuine offense. Amid his reaction, his hand slips from yours.

“Our entire society?” you retort, raising your voice before lowering it again, realizing he means well. You pull your legs up to your chin and hug them. “I’m divorced, Tae. I’m no beauty queen. Just used goods, as I said.”

You both stare out into the distance, falling into a brief silence.

“Well, I for one think you’re very gorgeous,” he says softly, still gazing ahead. “So please, don’t call yourself used. You’re definitely not.”

“Tae—”

“Do you wish you were still married?” he interjects gently, eyes returning to yours, searching for the truth. He wants to add, To Jungkook? but keeps it to himself, not deeming it his business.

You take a moment to process his question before responding.

“Some days I do,” you admit. “Not just with anyone, though. I’ve already learned my lesson the hard way. Jimin tried setting me up with a few of his coworkers a while back, but I declined. They’re so far away that I doubt anything would work out. Plus, not to be harsh but who in their right mind would risk it with me anyway?”

“I mean...I would,” he replies almost immediately, insistence in his voice. There's no trace of bluff at all and for a moment, your heart feels like it's doing about a hundred somersaults in your chest. Taehyung's seriousness makes it seem like he means it in a deeper way, but it can't be—he’s merely speaking figuratively because of your closeness.

“Of course you would,” you reply, grabbing his hand again and smiling gratefully. “Because you love me, right?”

You pose the question playfully, feeling your mood lift slightly, but Taehyung’s expression turns stunned, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I do,” he finally murmurs, deep and meaningful, a soft glimmer in his eyes. “I really do.”

"Hu-" you choke on your words, still trying to process his. You never finish, though, as Taehyung suddenly moves to stand up, a newfound cheekiness taking precedence over his face.

“Come on,” he says, “on a warm day like this, we should find a way to enjoy ourselves. Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, though to be honest, you're not surprised by his spontaneity. “Dancing is a no, Tae. You know I have zero rhythm.”

He doesn’t reply to your argument but instead draws his phone from his pocket, tapping around until light jazz music starts playing. He turns up the volume as loud as he can before placing it on the ground beside you.

“What are you doing?” you watch as he begins swaying his body from side to side, snapping his fingers when the beat feels right.

“I’m dancing by myself since you refuse to get up.”

You laugh, “I happen to like it this way. You can be my source of entertainment.” You adjust yourself so your legs are stretched out in front of you, feet crossed as you lean back on your arms.

He chuckles and continues dancing in small circles. You feel a little guilty the longer you watch. But then...

“__,” he calls your name, low and raspy. He steps over towards you and leans down until he's face to face with you. You like the way the sun glows down on his face, and the thought crosses your mind—he looks incredibly handsome. “__,” he calls your name again, and you realize you've been staring a little too long.

“Sorry,” you reply. “Sun’s making me dazed.”

He gives his usual boxy smile, and damn, why are you feeling so affected by him today? It’s not usually this much.

“Will you please dance with me? I don’t mind dancing by myself, but I prefer a partner.” He pouts and you know you’re done for.

“I’m not going to be good though,” you reply, reluctantly rising from your comfortable seated position. Taehyung pulls you into his hold the moment you’re on your feet. It's a little rougher than he meant, and your bodies accidentally collide in the process.

“Shit, my bad,” he says, taking a small step back.

“It’s fine," you assure, doing the same but not before catching a whiff of his cologne. You can't quite place the scent, but it’s nice...really, really nice.

As the music continues to play, you both sway gently to the rhythm. Taehyung’s touch is warm and steady as he guides you through each simple step. You feel a strange sense of comfort and safety in his arms, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“I didn’t realize you were such a good dancer,” you start. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

He spins you gently, and you let out a surprised laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the jazz music. “I had to take ballroom dancing lessons for a role I played years ago,” he replies smoothly, “but I enjoyed it, so I kept it up.” When you come back to him, he holds you a little tighter, and the closeness feels more intimate and special than you anticipated.

“You’re doing great, by the way,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Even with barely any practice."

“All thanks to you,” you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I guess it’s kinda fun.”

“See? Not so bad,” he says with a triumphant grin.

You glance towards the ocean, feeling a rush of spontaneity yourself. “The water looks so inviting. We should go in.”

He quirks a brow, taking in both of your more formal attire. “Dressed like this?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Instead, you slide out of his hold and run towards the water, laughing and splashing him once he’s close enough behind you.

“Hey! This was expensive!” he shouts, but there's no threat in his voice, only amusement.

“Well, you shouldn’t have worn it around me then!” you tease, splashing him again.

Now nearly drenched, Taehyung huffs and bends down to scoop water into his palm. “You’re gonna get it…” You back away quickly, but he follows after you. “Come here, I have a very special gift for you __,” he says mischievously, water spilling from his hand as he chases you.

You both end up playing in the water for the next ten minutes, splashing and laughing until you find yourself regaining confidence. At some point, Taehyung unexpectedly tackles you from behind, his arms wrapping so tightly around your waist that no amount of movement would free you.

You find yourselves too lost in amusement to notice your closeness until small droplets of water begin falling from above.

"Was that rain?" You stop all movement, but his grip doesn’t loosen. "Tae?" You call his name when it seems he doesn’t register your question, twisting your head over your shoulder to peer at him.

“Oh…um, sorry,” he finally stammers, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as he realizes the tight hold he has on you. His body flushes against your back.

“No, it’s okay…” you struggle to conceal a blush of your own, the warmth of his embrace a little overpowering. "So, I think we should head back. I'm pretty sure it's raining."

He nods and slowly unwraps his arms from around you. "I agree, but where's Tan?" His eyes frantically scan around the beach. "Tan!" he calls, and soon, two fluffy, slightly damp ears pop out from behind a rock.

"Aww," you exclaim, bending down to pick up the little dog when he trots over. "Look at him. We neglected the baby."

Taehyung snorts at your remark. "He'll be okay. It barely started."

You pretend to cover Tan's ears and shoot Taehyung a faux alarmed expression. "He can hear you, you know."

Taehyung chuckles and gently cups Tan’s face while he nestles in your arms, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy,” he says with a grin. As he looks up, he catches a prolonged gaze in your eyes and raises an eyebrow. “What? You want one too?”

“Oh, uhm, no,” you laugh, a bit nervously, shaking your head. “It’s just nice to see you so endearing.” You think back to how Taehyung had interacted so sweetly with his younger cousin, Eun-ha, earlier. It’s a side of him you're finding increasingly appealing.

Taehyung's gaze softens as he replies, “I like to take care of those I love.”

Love, you repeat quietly to yourself. It sounds so different when he says it.

You smile and, side by side, head back to the house.

The faint drizzle of rain quickly turns into a downpour, with a flash of lightning illuminating the sky and thunder rumbling in the distance. Despite the potential inconvenience, Taehyung’s parents insist that it would be better for both of you to wait until morning to drive back.

"It isn't safe," his mom advises, fluffing a pillow in the guest bedroom. "The two of you can stay here for the night. I’d offer the living room sofa too, but some of your cousins are staying over as well."

"Thanks, Mom," Taehyung replies, and when she leaves the room he casts a brief glance your way. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What? No, you can sleep in the bed with Tan." You pause, eyes scanning the room for an alternative spot. “This chair looks pretty comfortable. I’ll grab a blanket and make do.”

"Okay no, I’m not letting you sleep on that old, dusty chair and risk waking up with a giant kink in your neck.” Taehyung places his hands on his hips, his tone firm. “Why don’t we just sleep in the bed together? For some inexplicable reason, my parents chose to put a California King in here so there should be plenty of room. I’ll even sleep on top of the covers.”

“No, it's fine. Tan needs his space."

“Sweetheart." There it is again, that same petname from earlier. Why do you not seem to hate it? "Tan is so tiny he’ll literally curl between us," he argues, though it does little to convince you.

“Tae, I told you it’s—”

“Alright, I’ll take the chair then-” Taehyung starts to move toward it, but stubbornly, you block his path. There's no way he's sleeping on a chair when you're the guest here.

“You will do no such thing!" Naturally, you place your hands on your hips. “This is your home—well, your parent's home and I won't be subjecting you to sleep on something that small. Seriously Tae, I'd fit much better on it than you would given our height differences.”

A small, frustrated sigh escapes him as he counters, “I'd really rather you be comfortable, especially in an unfamiliar environment. So can we please stop arguing about this? It’s really unnecessary. Either I take the chair or we both find a way to share the bed. You can’t tell me you and Jimin never shared a bed before, and he’s your friend too!"

“Yes, but that’s different,” you insist. “Jimin and I have been friends for years! There’s a strong trust built between us.”

“What do you mean by that? You don’t trust me?” His face mirrors that of a sad, puppy-dog.

“Tae, it’s not that at all,” you say softly, trying to sound reassuring. “I do trust you. It’s just… I guess I just meant that Jimin and I have a long history together. We’ve grown very comfortable with each other in ways you and I haven’t yet.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow in concern. “What are you really worried about, __?”

You shrug, feeling a bit flustered. “Nothing…”

Your mind immediately drifts back to the beach—how he listened, held your hand gently, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and what it felt like to be held so close under the rain. Everything felt so genuine, warm, and openly vulnerable.

You share similar feelings with Jimin, but they have limits as you are definitely only friends… best friends, to be precise. With Taehyung, you figured it would be the same; however, after today, you're realizing more and more how unsure you are of where the limits are (or where you want them to be), and it startles you.

But it’s not this alone that fuels your apprehension tonight— there’s something else.

“You know I won’t do anything right?” Taehyung asks, his voice earnest. “I sleep with five pillows!”

You raise an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Five? What the hell, Tae? Are you a princess?”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, more nonchalantly than expected, “but stop deflecting. It sounds weird and a bit kinky, but why won’t you sleep in the bed with me?”

Should you tell him?

Your expression grows serious as you explain, “Because it can be very intimate,” you murmur softly. “Maybe I'm overthinking it all, but the last time I shared a bed with someone it...uhm...it was…”

“...with your ex-husband,” Taehyung finishes for you, his tone gentle with understanding. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Yes…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s silly, but I haven’t done it in a long time. Even Jimin and I haven’t shared a bed in years.”

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung says, his voice filled with genuine regret.

“Tae, you don’t have to be sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s my own issue. I’ll just sleep on the chair, alright? It’s only one night.”

“Not happening, you’ll take the bed with Tan.”

“Seriously,” you start to protest, but he’s already moving toward the foot of the bed with determination in his eyes. He grabs the blanket from the end and rushes over to the chair with haste. You run after him, pulling at his arm, and both of you end up laughing, the tension gradually breaking.

“It's been a very long day and I'm quite tired, __. How about turning off the lights, please?” He spreads out the blanket and settles into the chair with a satisfied sigh. Then, there’s a loud creak followed by a distinct cracking sound.

“Fuck—” Taehyung swears as the chair suddenly collapses under his weight. He rises from his seat, grimacing at the broken chair. “I knew it was old, but damn, I didn’t think it was that old.”

“Shit, please tell me this wasn't a family heirloom or something.”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Taehyung scratches his head, looking sheepish. “I’ll let my mom know in the morning. It’ll be fine, okay? No worries. But, um, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.” Taehyung then grabs a couple pillows and a blanket and starts forming a makeshift bed on the floor. While you watch him, your heart softens despite your exhaustion.

“Alright, enough,” you sigh, exasperated. “If we keep this up, we’ll just be going in circles all night. Let’s just share the bed, Tae. It’s not worth you being uncomfortable.”

Taehyung looks up, concern written over his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable either. I’m happy to—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, doing your best not to overthink it. “You're the one who'll be driving for five hours tomorrow anyway, so let’s just get some decent rest. It's okay, really.”

After a good long pause, you both end up climbing into the bed, each taking your own side as Tan curls himself at the foot of the bed. Taehyung reaches over to turn off the light, but despite the calmness of the room, you find yourself unable to sleep right away. You’re unaware he feels similarly until he unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks quietly. “We have more blankets if you need them.”

You turn slightly toward him. “I’m okay for now, but thanks for checking.”

He gives a soft, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You roll back onto your side and close your eyes. “You too.”

As the night deepens, the storm outside continues its relentless drumming against the windows. At some point, Taehyung jolts awake to a faint but unmistakable sound.

He blinks groggily at first, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. Then he notices your restless movements and hears you murmuring softly in your sleep, a note of distress in your voice.

"__?" he asks quietly, still half-asleep. "Are you okay?"

When you don’t respond, he shifts closer, concerned by the unease on your face. Seeing your share of the blankets has slipped off, he gently tugs them back over you, making sure they cover you comfortably.

Amid the movement, a muddled groan escapes your lips—something between a whimper and a sigh, "Mmm… no…"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out you must be having a nightmare of some sort. “It’s just a dream,” he whispers soothingly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You’re safe here with me.”

He gently takes your slightly trembling hand and holds it gently in his. “I’m right here, __,” he sighs softly. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”

Taehyung isn’t sure how much time passes before your restlessness stops, but he stays awake, hand clutching yours until it does. Eventually, assuming you’ve finally entered a more peaceful sleep, he releases your hand and rolls onto his side.

What he doesn't expect is for you to unconsciously follow him over, your body snuggling against his back. The warmth of your body against his is comforting, but he knows he can't let you stay there and risk any awkwardness in the morning. So with the utmost care, he rolls over to face you and gently adjusts your body until you're lying comfortably on your back again.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep better now," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the storm. "Goodnight."

Following the reunion, you and Taehyung part ways with mutual thank-yous and promises to see each other soon.

Time seems to vanish afterward as you find yourself increasingly buried under an endless pile of work projects. Apparently, over the weekend, a notable investor reached out to your company with hopes of setting up a meeting.

Namjoon is nearly tripping over his words when he relays the message to you.

"Can you believe it?" Your secretary stands within a foot from your desk, excitement evident in his voice. "They want to meet with us! This could be huge for our company."

You share his enthusiasm but your need to remain holistic in the matter tempers your ability to feel overly zealous. Meetings with investors always carry significant opportunities; however, there's no guarantee a deal will be struck. Truthfully, it depends on a number of factors, their level of interest outweighing them all.

Plus, every meeting requires extensive preparation—late nights where you tirelessly hunch over your computer, perfecting every detail of the pitch and this one promises to be no different.

"Did they happen to mention a time or date for further discussion?" you ask, matter-of-factly. Namjoon nods, pulling out his phone.

"Yes, they suggested next Wednesday at 10 AM.”

You weigh the proposal in your mind. “That should give us enough time to get everything in order, then,” you conclude. “Please put it in our calendar and let them know we’ll be ready to meet on that day.”

From then on, the remainder of your week unfolds exactly as you anticipate—relentless preparation, long nights, and meticulous planning until the small of your back aches for relief. One might say it's an exaggeration, but the only breaks you can afford are for primal necessities like eating, sleeping, and using the bathroom.

Even your weekend is spent within the walls of your home office, a far cry from previous weekends when you used to visit the book café or meet up with Taehyung.

Speaking of which, you haven’t really gotten to see each other since his family gathering and though it was only a week ago, the lack of his presence leaves you feeling a bit disheartened. He replied to your text yesterday, but even so, it was brief—something about a new project or talk show interview was keeping him busy as well.

By the time Wednesday arrives, your neck is so riddled with the stress of the upcoming investor meeting that you can barely focus on your proposal notes. Everything in you hopes that the investors will be impressed enough to partner with you, but thinking about it does nothing except heighten your nervousness.

In search of some kind of solace, your mind wanders to Taehyung instead. The memory of the small dance you shared with him on the beach is once again vivid, as if it happened just moments ago—the soft sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves, and the way his gentle hands gripped around your waist.

But why does this memory, out of all the possibilities, feel so soothing?

You've been struggling to come to a plausible conclusion since the day it happened, yet deep down, you know it’s not as trivial as it seems. You miss it, your subconscious hums, you miss him.

Just then, Namjoon pokes his head into your office, signaling that the investors have arrived in the conference room. You send a curt nod in reply and gather your notes, refocusing your mind on the task at hand; everything else will have to wait.

Turns out, you might have been a bit too pessimistic about the investor meeting. They’re surprisingly pleased with your plans and proposals, nodding along to each of your points. However, their request for a day or two to reach a final decision catches you a tad off guard.

Rather than grapple with the uncertainty though, you decide to mentally prepare for whatever comes next... starting by decompressing at the bar downtown, a glass of their strongest alcohol in hand.

At first, finding a seat proves to be a challenge as you navigate through a sea of sweaty bodies. But luck, seemingly on your side, provides you with an empty chair at the far end of the bar. While you sit and order your drink, you can't help but wonder what Taehyung might be doing tonight. Should you text him to see if he’d join you, even if only for fifteen minutes?

Slipping your phone from the side pocket of your bag, you curse silently at your apparent haste. Your subconscious was right—you really have missed him, damn.

All at once, your thoughts are put to an abrupt stop when you take a quick glance around the bar, your gaze unprepared to land on two familiar silhouettes at the opposite end—Namjoon, with Taehyung next to him, drinks in hand. You don’t know how you failed to notice them before. They’re laughing, clearly enjoying each other’s company, and for a moment, your face lifts into a smile.

But that smile quickly fades when you catch sight of two women sauntering over to join them. Your initial joy is swiftly replaced by a sharp sting of jealousy and you chastise yourself for the feeling. Who are you to react this way? Taehyung can do whatever he wants—why should you care who he’s out with?

Forcing yourself to shake off the feeling, you take a sip of your drink, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the group. It’s obvious that the taller of the two women, arguably as stunning as Taehyung, is laser-focused on him, her hand brushing his arm lightly as she laughs at whatever joke he’s just told. Probably a dumb one, you think bitterly; it's obvious she's not just there for the humor and booze. It's strange to witness, as you've only known Taehyung to allow a few, select women to touch him so openly—his mother, his onscreen cast members, and you.

Okay __, stop, you scold yourself. This is a bad idea; you’re getting too involved for your own good. Hastily, you finish your drink and head out of the bar, the cool night air brushing against your skin. If Taehyung goes home with her, it’s none of your business.

You're barely a few feet outside the bar's door when you hear commotion echo from a nearby alley. Alarmed, you whip towards the noise, your eyes widening in disbelief. There, in the dim light, you see your ex-husband doubled over, clutching his stomach, while a shadowy figure stands in front of him, fist clenched.

You’re not sure where the courage comes from, but within seconds, you're springing to action, racing towards the scene with a surge of adrenaline. “Hey!” you shout as loudly as you can. The attacker glances back, frazzled, then bolts into the night, leaving Jungkook hunched against the alley wall.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask frantically, rushing to his side and helping him to his feet. He flinches away from your touch initially, his face a mix of panic and agony. “It’s me, Jungkook. It's __. Can you hear me? It’s okay, I’m here,” you reassure him the best you can, hoping to ease him.

Jungkook takes a few shaky breaths, body still weak as he struggles to hold himself up against the wall. His eyes are glazed, and he seems disoriented. “I… I didn’t expect you,” he mutters, his voice strained.

Offering him an arm, you help him steady himself. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” He nods weakly, and as you guide him towards the parking lot and into the light, you ask, "What happened back there? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

Jungkook sighs, wincing slightly. “No, it’s... I’m fine. He was just a kid—no more than 21. Angry, probably a little drunk, and accused me of being the reason his father got fired. At first, I was confused, but then I vaguely recognized him as being one of our employee’s sons. Pretty sure it was my dad who fired his—I was probably just an easier target."

You both fall into a contemplative silence as you continue walking. Of course Jungkook's father, the chairman of the company, would be behind this, you think. Previous times spent with him had shown you how ruthless he could be when it came to the "well-being" of his company. Whoever the kid was, he probably had a right to be angry, but physically taking it out on Jungkook wasn’t justifiable by any means.

“You sure you don’t need a doctor?” you ask, glancing at him with concern.

He shakes his head dismissively, "Don't worry about me," he replies. "A couple of punches to the gut won't kill me. I think it's about time I head home though."

You nod in agreement. “Where did you park?”

He points to a spot on the far left side of the parking lot, and you nearly groan at the sight. “Did you have to bring your bike tonight?” you ask, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

Jungkook gives a weak smile, understanding the inconvenience of the situation. “Thought I’d ride it in case I needed to get somewhere fast,” he replies, his voice strained but with a touch of humor.

"Come on," you say, walking him toward your car instead. "We might not be married anymore, but there’s no way in hell I'm letting you ride your bike home in this condition. You can pick it up tomorrow."

Jungkook chuckles weakly. “Damn, and to think we were about to ride it together for old times’ sake. You used to be pretty good with my motorcycle back when you were my girlfriend, __." You roll your eyes, patience thinning. If this is another one of his sexual advances, you’re long over it.

"Yeah, well, that was before Taehyung’s accident scared me half to death," you retort. "And for the record, I was never your girlfriend. We went from work partners straight to I do." You open the passenger door and help him into the seat, giving him a gentle shove. "Now sit tight and no more motorcycle talk."

Jungkook leans back and raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Well, what are we gonna talk about then? It’s a twenty-minute drive to my place.”

You slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, giving him the go-ahead to enter his address into your car’s GPS. “Are you really whining already?”

As Jungkook taps away on the GPS, you’re suddenly reminded of a series of past car trips you shared with him. It’s almost like déjà vu.

“Seriously, __,” he starts, allowing his playful demeanor to fade. “Thank you for doing this for me. I know we… well, we aren’t exactly on the best terms.”

From the corner of your eye, you observe the way he aimlessly stares out the window, unsure whether to meet your gaze.

"We may not be in the best place, but that doesn’t mean I’d just leave you there," you sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. A long pause follows afterward until the question that's been gnawing at you finally slips from your lips. "How's everything with the company?"

Seemingly unfazed, as if he’d been anticipating the question, Jungkook replies, “I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Hard not to,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "Well, it's um... it's a sabbatical. I know it's probably a shock, right? My father isn’t too thrilled about it, so he’s delayed the official announcement until we reach a final consensus. But things have been... complicated. Our newest product launched recently, and it’s doing well, but now I think I need some time for myself. To take a step back.”

Well, shit.

Even with all the rumors, you never would have guessed in a million years that the truth of the matter was an impending sabbatical. Jungkook has always been the type to work himself until his hands bleed, so this is the last reason you expected to hear.

“I’m glad to hear you’re finally letting yourself have a break, but honestly, it doesn’t sound like you at all. Feel free not to share, but what do you mean by ‘complicated’?” The way he frames it sounds almost ominous.

“You really want to know?” He finally glances at you for the first time since getting into the car, his eyes carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“Only if you want to share,” you reply cautiously.

He looks down at his hands, gathering his thoughts. “So, remember when we last saw each other a few months back? Well, I’ve been reflecting a lot on our relationship since then. I know I wasn’t fair to you, __, and I really wish I could take it all back. You never deserved any of it. I was incredibly selfish and I’m truly sorry.”

You remain silent, thrown off by how quickly everything circles back to your fragile past together. Still, you allow him to speak.

"Before we parted ways, you suggested I see a professional, and… I thought I'd finally take your advice for once. It’s strange because I’d never gone before, but…”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “I’m starting to understand a lot about myself—why I react the way I do and how I handle things. It’s been tough, but I’m trying. I guess I’m taking this sabbatical because I need to figure myself out, away from work, so I can be better and stop hurting people around me."

For the first time in a long time, as you listen to your ex-husband, you realize he's beginning to sound genuinely mature. If it's true that he's been seeing a therapist and taking a sabbatical to prioritize his well-being, then you're extremely proud of him.

Yet, a small part of you remains stubborn, wishing he had made these changes earlier—imagine where you might be now if he had.

“Thank you for being open enough to share this with me," you respond slowly, careful not to misspeak. "Though I’m still a little surprised, I have to say I’m really proud of you for seeking help. I’ve been seeing someone as well, and it took me some time to settle in too, but I suppose that’s part of the healing process—being uncomfortable to an extent. We’ve had our share of challenges with one another, but despite everything, I’ll always wish the best for you, Jungkook—including your health and mental well-being.”

As you pull into the driveway of his house, parking the car near the front door, Jungkook takes a deep breath and turns to you, visibly affected. "It means a lot that you'd say that, __," he starts hesitantly, hands fidgeting in his lap. "I know I've made a lot of mistakes, and I understand if you can't forgive me completely. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I wasn’t fair to you and I'm not proud of my behavior at all."

You nod in response, a small, tight-lipped smile forming. His remorse for the past is finally sincere, yet even now, as he looks at you with those hopeful eyes—the same ones you carried for months on end—you know he's searching for more than just your forgiveness.

But this time, you don’t think you can offer him more than that.

Because while you grew fond of him during your marriage, you've come to realize how unearned and misplaced that affection was. He broke your heart not once, but twice. And although you can never hate him, deep down, you can't ignore the lingering sting you feel when you're around him.

It's both sobering and eye-opening.

So, rather than reversing into old emotions, you simply say, "I believe you, Jungkook, and I think with time I'll be able to forgive you. If there’s ever a time when you’re in dire need of help, like tonight, I’ll do my best to be there. I’m afraid that’s as far as we can go, though."

It’s written all over his face that it’s not what he was hoping to hear, but respectfully, he doesn’t press further.

"I understand," he says, fingers reaching to for the passenger door handle. "Thank you again for being there for me tonight, and for driving me home. Please feel free to reach out if you ever need me as well. I hope for the best for you too, however and with whoever you choose."

The two of you exchange a brief look of gratitude before he finally pulls the door open and steps out of the car, making his way to his front door.

"Have a good night, and rest up," you call out to him. He smiles, gives a wave, and heads inside.

As you slowly back out of the driveway, you sigh, leaving only one person ruminating in your mind: Taehyung.

Then, inevitably, images of the stunning woman at the bar with him intrude your thoughts, stirring a deep, unsettling emotion within you.

Does it really matter that much who he's out with?

Are you really that jealous about it?

Mentally, you go back and forth as if plucking petals from a large sunflower… Yes. No. Yes. No. Until—Silence.

You can't seem to give a straight answer. It's like the closer you and Taehyung grow, the more undefinable and knotted your feelings become. Yet, the further apart you are, the more unnatural it feels...

Well, your indecisiveness doesn’t get any better by Friday because, finally, after what feels like an eternity, you and Taehyung have plans.

You’re heading out for dinner at a restaurant of his choosing tonight, as he insisted you go somewhere new. Where could it be? You have no clue, and while surprises aren’t usually your thing, his enthusiasm when you confirmed plans earlier has left you intrigued. There’s also this faint, inexplicably giddy feeling in your stomach that won’t go away, coinciding with a slight nervousness.

With such a seemingly important occasion, you find yourself in front of your bedroom mirror, twisting from side to side in what’s probably the fifth outfit you’ve tried on. But nothing seems to fit quite right. You’re feeling especially frustrated to be frank, as something that usually takes you twenty minutes is turning into a whole hour.

You end up tossing one final dress over your head—a bit more elegant for the occasion, but it’s one of the few items you own that accentuates your body down to the last detail. The dress hugs around your waist and falls just above your knees, its rich color perfectly complementing your skin tone. But isn’t it a little revealing? The neckline dips down further than you remember.

Crap—the alarm on your phone suddenly chimes, reminding you that Taehyung's arriving in ten minutes. You're running out of time.

"You’re being ridiculous. It’ll be fine,” you reassure yourself, smoothing down the skirt of the dress. “You're just friends. He won’t care.”

“Friends” stings more than you anticipated, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a deflated feeling in your chest.

Nevertheless, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, apply a quick swipe of lipstick, and head downstairs. Just as you finish slipping on your shoes and grabbing your purse from the coat rack, the doorbell rings, causing your heart to leap from your chest.

Deciding to rip it off like a band-aid, you toss open the door, and there he is—standing on your doorstep with his signature boxy grin and gently tousled raven hair. Taehyung's dressed in a tailored blazer and matching slacks over a crisp white t-shirt, and you find yourself at a complete loss for words as if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around him.

Maybe it’s something in the air, but he appears equally stunned, looking you up and down with wide eyes. His gaze soon softens into admiration as he takes in your entire appearance. “Wow,” he chokes, clearly impressed. “You look amazing.”

You feel a rush of warmth at his compliment and muster all your strength to keep from looking away flustered. “Thank you,” your voice wavers slightly. “You look pretty great yourself.”

Tongue in cheek, he replies with a playful smirk, “I was hoping you’d say that,” which prompts you to lightly punch him in the arm.

“Don't be arrogant.”

He chuckles, rubbing his arm with a grin. “Shall we head out?”

You nod and step outside, locking the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant is a brief one, and you're immediately struck by the charm of its exterior when you arrive—stone walls, covered with vines of ivy and warm glowing lanterns. Inside is even more beautiful, with wooden shelves lined with old books and bottles of fine wine wrapping around the room. You're starting to understand why Taehyung was so insistent on bringing you here; the place perfectly reflects his taste and, unexpectedly, yours as well.

One of the hosts leads you to a deep mahogany table after confirming your reservation. The closer you get to it, the more you notice the crisp white linens and small tealight candles that sit on top, setting a romantic scene. If you had to describe the feeling, it would be as though you’ve been transported straight to a quaint corner of France.

"So, what do you think?” Seated across from you, Taehyung looks at you with bated breath. His fingers fidget with the edge of the table, nervously anticipating your verdict.

“Honestly? It’s so charming,” you reply, glancing around in awe. “I didn’t even realize we had a place like this around.”

At this, his demeanor relaxes, and a pleased smile spreads across his face. “It’s a bit hidden, but once I found it, it quickly became one of my favorite spots.” He pauses, then adds, “This is actually the same restaurant I wanted to take you to months ago, before my accident.”

“What? You’re serious?” you blink in shock as the realization slowly sinks in. You take another look around the restaurant—the rows of books, the bottles of wine, the elegant dining atmosphere—and suddenly, it all makes sense. How did you miss it before? “I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” you say softly, regretful of having turned down his offer before.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung's quick to reassure you, reaching out to lightly touch your hand. “What matters is that we’re here now. And honestly, I’m just happy to finally share it with you.” He gives you a warm smile, and immediately, you feel a small lump form in the back of your throat.

“Thank you for bringing us here tonight,” you say, “It’s wonderful, and I’m really glad we could make it up.”

“Of course,” he replies, “I thought it was a place we’d both enjoy.”

Everything about his responses seems to carry a heightened level of endearment and attentiveness, as if there’s more hidden beneath them.

Perhaps selfishly, you also sense there’s something uniquely special about this night—something you believe only exists between the two of you. So, when Taehyung retracts his hand, you feel a fleeting instinct to reach out and grasp it again, but you stop yourself short.

What are you thinking? This isn’t a date.

Needing a distraction, you grab the menu and start scanning the options.

Taehyung sees the way your gaze drifts and tilts his head, a concerned expression on his face. “Everything alright?” he asks gently.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual. “I'm just getting pretty hungry with all the food I smell.”

He chuckles, "Same here," then picks up a menu of his own.

The two of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, fixated on the food and wine list. You find yourself stealing glances at him from time to time, and unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

After the waiter takes your orders, Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “How’s everything at work been? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Your face lights up at this. “Highs and lows," you reply, voice brightening, "but we got some exciting news today. I met with a potential investor earlier this week, and they’ve agreed to partner with the company. It’s a big win for us!”

Sharing your enthusiasm, Taehyung raises his wine glass, implicating you to follow suit. “This calls for a toast,” he says. “I know it must have meant long nights for you, but I’m so glad they recognized the value of you and your work. Seriously, __, you should be incredibly proud of this!"

You clink your glass with his, a light chuckle escaping you. There's something uniquely satisfying about sharing even the smallest things with him.

The conversation flows more comfortably from there, with Taehyung eagerly asking about the details of your new partnership. You reciprocate by asking about his current work projects, and soon, you both get lost in discussion, naturally causing your conversation to grow increasingly spontaneous. By the time your food arrives, the two of you must have easily covered fifty topics.

With the evening gradually becoming one of the most enjoyable you’ve had, the initial butterflies you felt at the start almost fade away... almost. That is, until you near the end of the meal and Taehyung looks at you with a seriousness in his eyes.

“I’m really glad we could do this tonight," he says, "We’ve both been so caught up with work lately that we haven’t had much time to spend together… I’ve missed it."

"Missed..." The simple six-letter word echoes in the back of your mind in a hushed murmur. It feels nice knowing you aren’t the only one affected by the recent distance.

“Me too,” you reply, more breathy than intended. Before you can fully process your words, you find yourself adding, “I’ve missed you a lot myself.”

A flush of embarrassment twists in your stomach the moment the words leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have said it like that—it almost sounded like… pining? God, you can’t even blame it on the alcohol at this point; you barely had one full glass of wine. Contrary to what you'd expect, Taehyung looks at you with a hint of shyness.

“You know,” he begins, briefly eyeing your dress, “you really do look great tonight. I’ve been a bit worried these past couple of weeks, seeing how much you work and how little sleep you get. But now… I'm relieved to see you looking so well.”

You blush. If only he saw you before tonight—greasy hair, bloodshot eyes, and oversized sweats on, you think. Evidently, tonight was an exception.

"I guess I've been worried about you too if I’m being honest,” you admit, shifting slightly in your seat. "The last time we saw each other was at your family reunion. It feels like it was ages ago for some odd reason."

“I know what you mean,” he says softly, gaze lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. “It’s strange going so long without seeing each other. It feels…unnatural.”

All at once, you pause, unsure if you heard right. Did Taehyung really say "unnatural"? It’s exactly how you’ve felt about the distance this entire time, but you hadn’t expected him to feel the same. Your mind struggles to process the sheer coincidence and its possible implications—was there something more to your relationship than you had realized?

While you try to make sense of it all, Taehyung’s raspy voice pulls you back to the present. “Well, uh, we should probably head out,” he suggests lightly, breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, though it does little to deter you from your thoughts.

You find yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress the entire drive back, occasionally glancing at Taehyung in silence. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, eyes focused on the road, yet you could’ve sworn his mouth parted at one point as if he was about to say something. But then, he held back. You wonder what he might’ve wanted to say, but you’re no better—hesitant to breathe a word yourself.

Why are neither of you speaking all of a sudden? It feels tense and unfamiliar.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, you're standing at your front door again, Taehyung close beside you. The space between you feels smaller this time, with unspoken words still lingering, but it’s clear that despite having your keys in hand, neither of you are ready to part ways just yet.

“__?” He speaks first, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” You respond, turning to face him fully.

Taehyung takes a deep breath when you do, his usual warmth replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression. “There- there's something that’s been on my mind,” he begins, voice trembling slightly. “I've been going back and forth tonight on whether or not to tell you."

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, pulse quickening.

“It’s about us..." He hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly before continuing. "Earlier tonight, when I said I've missed being able to see you, I wasn’t lying. If anything, it was likely an understatement because, no matter how busy I was, I kept thinking about you—our time at my parents' place, and how you always came to visit me when I was in the hospital."

He pauses, his fist clenching nervously.

"I’ve realized since then that maybe the reason why is because somehow…you've always been more than a friend to me,” he confesses softly.

Searching your face for a reaction, Taehyung mistakes your blank expression for discomfort. Little does he know, however, that your stillness is merely due to shock, as every nerve in your body threatens to awaken. It feels surreal, you think. Sure, you had a small inkling that tonight felt different and Taehyung was sweeter than usual, but eighty percent of you chalked it up as nothing more than overthinking or projection.

Now, you realize how short-sighted you’ve been, convincing yourself that you could only ever be friends and denying the rest when it's been quite the opposite.

“I’m sorry," he adds sheepishly. "It must be a lot to take in. I don’t want to lose you or our friendship, but with my feelings growing, I think I’ll always want more. I thought it would be better for you to know.”

You see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, and though he patiently waits for your response, you’re unsure where to start. It’s not that you question Taehyung’s genuineness or intentions, or that you don’t reciprocate his feelings—you haven’t shared such a deep connection with someone in a long time, if ever.

Rather, it’s the years of a mostly apathetic marriage that leave you feeling wary.

What would a relationship with Taehyung be like?

Would you truly love each other?

For how long?

What startles you most is the possibility that if you and Taehyung really do this and it doesn’t work out, you’ll be left even more devastated than before.

When you finally speak, your voice wavers slightly. “To tell you the truth, a big part of me is relieved that you told me all of this,” you admit slowly, your hands clammy. “I thought I sensed a shift between us at your parents' and again this evening. But I also thought I was reading too much into things, convinced it was just us getting closer as friends do."

"I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was wrong because I've been wanting more with you too," you continue. "It's like the further away we are, the worse I seem to feel, and I can't help but wonder what it would look like if we were more than friends. The thought scares me as much as it excites me, though…for reasons I'm sure you already know."

You're uneasy about how he'll react until, all at once, his eyes fill with warmth and his hands gently reach for yours, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the backs.

“Do you remember when we were at the beach and you asked who’d risk it for you?” Taehyung asks. You nod, recalling the exact moment. “You also asked if I loved you, and I agreed to both that day. I didn’t realize how much those words would come full circle, but I meant it then, and I mean it now. I will love you, __, in the way you've always meant to be. I'm pretty sure I'm at least halfway in love with you already, and not just because we're friends."

Wordless, you stand facing each other, your hands still held in his, eyes steady in the brisk night air. His gaze then drifts from your eyes to your lips and back again. The movement is subtle, but in that brief moment, you let your eyes fall to his lips as well.

Taehyung’s waiting for your answer, but you can’t stop thinking of what would happen if you just…

Adrenaline takes over from there, and before you fully process it, you’re leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The sudden touch catches Taehyung off guard, but he quickly responds with gentle, tender kisses. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he deepens the embrace, one hand finding its way to your face while the other rests on your back, pulling you closer.

Sooner than you realize, he begins deepening the kiss as well, eliciting small, breathy moans. At this point, you can feel the tent forming in his trousers, but he makes no move to grind into you yet. Rather, the hands that grip around you tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough that your body pushes further against his firmer chest. You suspect your back will meet the hard surface of your front door within the next three seconds, allowing your entire neighborhood a show, but before then, you're interrupted by a subtle stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"Wait, I'm sorry-" you suddenly break the kiss, a rush of nerves returning. It’s been a long time since you’ve shared such meaningful kisses with someone, and the intensity of it has you feeling overwhelmed. "I'm so sorry," you repeat.

When Taehyung sees you aren’t backing away but rather standing completely still, he settles his hands around your waist, gently drawing you further into a soft embrace. "You don't need to apologize," he assures. "I'm the one who took it further than I should've when I want this to be comfortable for both of us.”

You take a small breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, Tae, I'm just a little nervous due the newness of everything. I think I’d be best if we wait before going any further tonight….but I’m also not ready for you to leave yet. Is there any way you could maybe come in for a bit? To lounge?”

Taehyung nods, “I completely understand wanting to wait. The last thing I want to do is rush anything.” Concerned about possibly pressuring you, he adds, "Are you sure about me coming in though? It's getting late and I don't want to keep you up."

"Please," you murmur, "just for a little while, if you can.”

“Okay," he agrees, thumbs brushing lightly against your sides, "I can stay."

a/n: ajdfhg, TYSM for reading!! Love you all 🥰

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[imagine-darksiders]

On the Ropes

Chapter 25 - Uninvited Guests

Montgomery Gator X F!Reader

WARNING:

-Noncon touching, inappropriate behaviour, abuse of authority, implied s/a, self-doubt, mild threat

Summary: Tempers flare, emotions are high and boundaries are tested. You worry, but Monty worries more. He just isn't as good as expressing it as you are.

Sorry this one took so long. A few months ago, my parents made me a partner in their company with a view to take over the whole damn thing when they retire, and I've had to learn how to run a business without a lick of experience in the field, so that's been taking up a lot of my life lately. I'm still finding time to write, but it is harder.

Still! I hope a nice, long, juicy chapter full of angst and fluff and hurt/comfort makes up for the hiatus. Love to the brim. X

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

As ideas go, Monty concludes that his latest might have been best left on the backburner, never to see the light of day. He hardly dares move, locked in place by his own mechanical parts as he stares down at you on the sofa, and you in turn, gawk up at him, your eyes still wet and shining with tears.

And for all his artificial intelligence, for all the state-of-the-art programming slapped into his circuitry, the most eloquent response he can conjure up in the face of his own blunder is a weak, faltering, “Uh…”

But what else could best encapsulate the jarring realisation that he’s been caught? He hadn’t really fathomed being caught at all, hadn’t even considered what he might do if he was caught.

Well, too little too late now, he supposes. There’s no way he can simply duck back through your open window and feign ignorance when you inevitably return to the Plex to confront him…

…. Could he…?

… No, no. Definitely not.

Closely observing your expression, the gator’s proverbial stomach sinks as your face begins to lose all aspects of shock and instead turns towards something more closely akin to anger, unpleasant in its familiarity, and Monty realises he’s running out of time to come up with a believable excuse to explain away his presence here, as if a 'good' excuse even exists.

Brows scrunching together, your jaw creaks shut, teeth meeting with an audible ‘click,’ that pulls an involuntary flinch from the gator’s tail.

He can handle Mick being angry with him. He can handle Andy and that exec, the staff and guests and all of their cross words and scathing looks.

Yet for some reason that he dare not examine, the very notion of you pointing your wrath at him fills Monty with a dread so palpable, he’d swear the coolant in his hydraulics freezes solid. The irony of the revelation doesn’t escape him. Until now, he’s spent so long being angry at everyone around him without sparing much thought as to how it must feel to be on the receiving end.

Beyond the threatening wave of apprehension cresting over him, he can still hear the sizzle of water against a hot stove-top somewhere nearby – the very culprit that had landed you on the floor, and him here in the first place - and in his eagerness to set things right again, Monty latches onto the one task he’s at least semi-certain he can’t mess up.

He doesn’t break eye-contact with you, not until he’s edged his way into the little kitchenette and finally tears his gaze from yours to spin around to the stove, knocking his tail against the fridge with a jarring clang of metal. He winces at the force, hoping he hasn’t dented it.

Grimacing at the knobs and dials sitting innocently on the cooker, he elects not to tackle them, instead reaching out to engulf the saucepan’s entire handle in a single fist where he simply lifts the whole contraption off the stove.

At once, the water boiling within its metal confines eases to a manageable simmer.

“Monty…” When his name leaves your lips this time, it’s deeper, colder, with the barest tremble flecked into your voice. “You… you can’t be here…”

The gator has enough sense not to bark out a nervous laugh at the century’s greatest understatement.

Clenching his fingers around the handle, he carefully plops the saucepan down near the back of the stove, away from the burning, red ring of heat. Excess water still dribbles in tiny rivulets down the side of the counter, but he turns his processor away from the mess by physically twisting himself around in the cramped space until he’s facing you once more, clutching his hands up to his yellow chest plate.

“You can’t be here,” you reiterate thinly, your eyes blown wide and pupils small and dark like pinprick holes, locked in his direction.

Then, with the suddenness of a bullet firing from a gun, you explode into motion.

Lurching over at the waist, you swipe your discarded crutch from the floor and begin shoving yourself gracelessly from the sofa with such fervour, Monty is momentarily struck by the ludicrous idea that you might be on your way to attack him.

“Of all the-! the stupid-!” you sputter, slamming the crutch’s rubber foot into your carpet and heaving yourself upright, wobbling across the room on an unsteady leg, “Dangerous! Irresponsible-!”

You continue hurling out adjectives and lumbering forwards, and Monty – suddenly alarmed that you’re about to topple face-first into the carpet again – kicks himself into gear. His pistons carry him across the room in a few, loping strides where he meets you at the edge of the kitchen linoleum, mindlessly throwing both of his enormous palms around your waist to steady you.

Almost at once, you latch onto him roughly, your fingertips squeaking against plastic as they attempt to gather purchase around a too-thick wrist.

“Monty!” The acrid taste of panic steadily trickles down the back of your throat. “Monty, this isn’t funny! I’m not kidding! This isn’t funny, you cannot be here!”

But Monty isn’t laughing. And although you sound borderline hysterical, there isn’t a trace of humour in your expression either. Maybe you hope it's a practical joke, or that you're seeing things. Anything except for the gargantuan reality peering down at you from behind star-shaped sunglasses. 

“I know,” is all the gator can muster up as a reply. Because he does know. He can’t be here.

And yet, he is.

“Then what-” you snap, “-the fuck are you doing here!?” It’s the first time you’ve really raised your voice at him, and there’s a sharpness to it that tucks the animatronic’s snout down towards his chest, rendered contrite in the face of your reprimand. Something deep in his subroutine starts to hum, discontented. Perhaps it’s the fact that the shoe is on the other foot now, and this time, he’s the one on the receiving end of someone else’s anger.

Another tear spills over to clump your eyelashes together.

Whirring loudly behind his glasses, Monty’s optics track its path over the swell of your cheek, and again, he creaks his jaw open, hoping something more substantial than his previous answer will miraculously come to him. As it is, he merely utters a soft, “I… don’t know.”

Evidently however, that had been the wrong thing to say.

For several seconds, your mouth flaps open and closed in disbelief before your face screws up into a tight ball of incredulousness and you manage to shrilly proclaim, “What do you mean you don’t know!?”

You snatch your hand away from his wrist to rake trembling fingers through your hair, digging into your scalp with the tips of blunted nails. “Oh god, oh god… This is bad, this is bad! You’re…”

Trailing off, you lean away from the animatronic, shoving a palm against his solid chest and giving your head a harsh shake, as if you might somehow throw the whole situation from your mind. Even as you pull away, his hands retain their firm point of contact on your sides.

After a beat of silence, you go still once more, blinking up at the gator and confirming that, no, you aren’t imagining the hulking, green goliath towering over you, looking far too large to occupy the space between your ceiling and floor. “Monty, for god’s sake,” you say through gritted teeth, “You’re in my flat!”

“I.. I know this looks bad-” he tries, removing a hand from your waist, palm tipped towards you in a placating gesture, “But, it’s okay-“

“- In what universe is this okay!?” you fret, batting at the massive paw that stretches towards you, “Monty! You’re outside the Plex! If you’re caught, they’ll-! Christ! You could be decommissioned! Is that what you want?!”

“I wanted to make sure you got home,” he emphasises.

“You can’t do that though!” you almost wail at him, shaking your fists beseechingly as if to beg him to comprehend your desperation, “You understand why you can’t do that, right?!”

“I was just-!” There’s a sudden buzz of static as he cuts off his own voice box, rendering the end of his sentence effectively unspoken.

But he ought to have known you aren’t about to let him get away with silence, not when you’re so clearly distraught and prying for answers.

“What, Monty?!” you exclaim, pinning him with your glare like a butterfly to a corkboard, “You were just what?!”

The gator’s jaw works mechanically, grinding the gears on their pivots as he clenches and unclenches it. He’s unwilling to give up the vulnerable words that have lodged themselves in his voice box, words that seem far too soft coming from the mouth of an animatronic with an unmalleable frame.

The only sound to break the silence is the steady ‘drip,’ ‘drip,’ ‘drip,’ of your leaky faucet.

“Montgomery,” you snap when his silence starts to overstay its welcome.

And the gator, despite his best efforts, flinches.

Plastic eyebrows slot together with an audible ‘clack’ as Monty lowers his optics to the carpet at your feet…

You’ve fallen back on his show title.

It’s a… rather decisive step away from the nickname he asked you to call him. The chasm that stood between you and the gator was wide when you set foot his green room not so long ago, yet in spite of first impressions, that gap has slowly been closing up over the last few days.

But now? Calling him ‘Montgomery,’ and in so terse a tone feels too much like the rift has just inched a few notches wider again.

Perhaps it’s that solemn, borderline desperate urge to regain what precious ground he’s lost that drives him to finally lift his gaze from the carpet and aim it somewhere near your glistening eyes instead.

“Just… tryin’a do what you did for me…” he utters.

Your face immediately untwists, brows launching up your forehead as everything about you opens up in clear surprise.

Whatever excuse you’d been imagining, he hadn’t provided it.

“What?” The question squeezes out of your throat, rasping and tight.

Hiking up the volume in his voice box, Monty retorts, “You came to make sure I was okay at the Plex. I-I’m just… doin’ the same thing!”

Sputtering around half-formed words for a several seconds, you finally manage to exclaim, “There is an astronomical difference between a human going to their place of work, and an animatronic up and leaving the place they were built, Montgomery, you can’t even try to pretend there isn’t!”

You’re well aware that comparing your autonomy to his own is a little below the belt, but the truth, whilst certainly ugly, is still the truth.

“Andy can tear me a new one for not going home after surgery,” you continue frantically, “But that’s nothing compared to what Faz Co. will do to you if they find out you’ve gone awol! And that’s not even the half of it! I mean - What if you run out of charge!? Or – or!”

As you steadily approach the line between distraught and thoroughly panicked, your voice begins to rise, cracking at the apex of your sentence, hypotheticals darting relentlessly through your head.

“What if someone saw you!? How did you even get here! Oh, fuck, Management’ll scrap you for spare parts, or - Damnit, Monty!” you blurt, ducking your head to try and meet his downcast optics, “Are you evening listening to me!?”

He is listening, as a matter of fact, quite intently. Though his visual feed may not be focused on you, the gator is hanging on your every word. But it isn’t the realisation he could be decommissioned that’s caught his attention. He already knows that the outcomes you’ve just listed are very real possibilities, should his little escapade ever be discovered.

No, instead, it’s the clear and undeniable fear laid thickly in your voice that grinds his processor to a halt. It sits on your tongue like a glaze, shining brightly for him to pick up on, and wonder how he missed it in the first place.

This isn’t anger.

This is something else dressed up to look like anger, and the tragedy is, it’s a disguise he knows all-too well, so well, in fact, that he should have recognised you’d donned it the moment you opened your mouth to speak.

You’re afraid.

If animatronics were built to house spirits, Monty’s would be tentatively lifting their heads. However, the revelation that perhaps he hasn’t driven off his best and only friend is cut woefully short when all of a sudden, his audio receptors give a ping, alerting him to new input approaching from a nearby source.

Without warning, the gator’s head snaps towards the door of your flat, mechanical clicks filling the unexpected silence as his optics adjust to the change in distance.

Footsteps… heavy and unhurried, slowing as they draw nearer to your door…

“Monty?” you hiss, distractedly following the line drawn by his glare, “Don’t try and-“

‘Knock.’

‘Knock.’

‘Knock.’

Three deliberate raps on your front door cause any further arguments to shrivel up and die at the back of your throat. You stop breathing altogether, and every noise suddenly seems too loud in the ensuing silence.

‘Who the Hell-?’ you wonder, dumbfounded, ‘-It’s the middle of the night!?’

No sooner has the thought occurred to you than a finger of ice-cold dread drags a chilly path up the notches on your spine, right to the fine hairs prickling at the nape of your neck.

Like a jackhammer, your heart rams itself up against your sternum over and over again.

‘He couldn’t have… Shit. Could he? But... How?’

“Y/n?”

You’re too slow to clamp your mouth shut around a gasp when you hear the voice, muffled but undeniably masculine, calling out from the other side of the door. Monty’s silicone lips ripple apart, though he at least has the forethought not to push an audible growl through his speakers.

The voice, however, doesn’t sound as though it belongs to the… the person you thought it might have belonged to.

You can’t place it straight away. You’re only sure that you know it from somewhere, but with several centimetres of wood standing between you and it, details are distorted and difficult to pinpoint.

Another knock startles you again, even more-so when it’s followed by, “Are you in there?”

A pregnant pause stretches until your teeth start to ache from keeping them pressed together so firmly.

And then, the words you thought you’d never have to hear again filter through the cracks beneath the door. “I thought I heard shouting.”

There’s an instinct that rises from buried depths at the utterance, instincts you thought you’d put to bed long ago.

It's as though someone has lit a fire under your feet. Mechanically, you twist around towards the sofa, your eyes locking onto the remote controls sitting on its arm rest. Limping up to them with stilted, frenetic movements, you snatch them up and aim them at the television, jamming your thumb into the ‘on’ button with far more force than necessary. Plastic creaks beneath your fingertips.

Seconds later, the screen flickers to life, landing on a film you don’t bother to try and recognise. Hiking up the volume until the tinny sound kicks out of the speakers and fills your meagre living space, you toss the remote back onto the sofa cushions and make your way arduously to the door.

Yet another knock indicates that your late-night visitor is persistent, you’ll give him that.

Several steps from the entrance, your progress is stopped by a sudden wall of green stepping in front of you, blocking your path forward.

“Move,” you rasp through gritted teeth, too quiet to be heard over the television as you smack at the gator’s tail that’s trying to curl around your thighs.

Monty’s head swivels around to frown at you. The purple casings surrounding his optics slide half-closed to give you the impression of a beseeching look.

You wonder if he knows who’s at the door.

“Hello? Y/n?” the stranger calls again.

“I - just a second,” you blurt out, ignoring Monty’s grimace as you bully your way past him, using your crutch to keep him from stepping around you lest he risk tripping you over, “Sorry, I’m... still getting the hang of these crutches.”

You have half a mind to demand to know who the Hell would have the unmitigated audacity to come around and knock on your door at this time of night.

Behind you, Monty’s claws try to hook into the back of your shirt, but the fear of accidentally tearing anything you own keeps him from holding on with any real purpose. As such, it’s only too easy to slip out of his grasp and press your eye up to the peep hole, the blood in your ears rushing to a watery crescendo.

A distorted yet familiar face peers back at you through the glass, sweat glistening off a ruddy forehead that shines under the overhead lights.

“Mick!?” you burst out.

What in the name of God...

Whirling around to face Monty, you throw an arm out, gesturing wildly towards your bedroom door.

The gator’s jaws are clenched tightly enough that you suspect if you were to toss a lump of coal between his teeth, he’d spit out a diamond, and while his tail twitches back and forth in clear agitation, he doesn’t otherwise move.

“Ah, you are there,” your not-so-mysterious visitor exclaims, “Mind opening the door?”

Yes, you mind! You mind very much! What is he doing here!?

Unless…

Your head turns slowly over a shoulder to gape unblinkingly at the animatronic looming close behind you. Your eyes find his, your stomach clenches…

“Hello?”

“Uh, just… hang on a second!” you stall, fumbling and fiddling with the metal latch, pretending to fight with it whilst you cast another, desperate look back at the gator. “Damn lock is always getting stuck.”

The moment his optics catch your eye again, you mouth, ‘Please’, jerking your chin at your bedroom door, ‘Please. Hide.’

Ever so slowly, Monty blinks, taking in the harsh lines that cut crevices down the centre of your forehead, right between your furrowed brows. And just like that, the corners of his snarl start to fall, and the apertures of his pupils expand to hide blazing, crimson LEDs.

A thousand calculations run through his processor at once, all of them pertaining to the risk of leaving you to face Mick by yourself. His programming shrieks in defiance as he takes a reluctant step backwards, being light as he can on cumbersome actuators.

He should stay… Neither of you know why Mick is here, though he can hazard several guesses.

You’re afraid, you’re vulnerable… You need him.

But probability reminds him that perhaps the situation isn’t so dire. He's sure he hadn’t been spotted on his way here, and if he was, why would Faz Co. send Mick – of all humans - out for retrieval?

What if the man's being here is merely down to chance?

If that's the case, then should he catch you with one of the Glamrocks in your home, the repercussions will be far worse than whatever Monty fears could happen by leaving you to deal with the situation alone…

So, driven back by the urgent glimmer of tears shining over your sclera, Montgomery Gator begrudgingly makes a decision that goes against his very programming. He retreats from the room, slinking backwards as silently as a two-tonne bot can through the door and into what he can only assume must be your personal recharging station.

All the while, you watch him over the threshold, waiting until the gator’s hefty bulk disappears into the darkness of the room beyond. Even still, you wait for him to push your door shut with an undetectable 'thud' before you finally wrench the lock on your own door free and tug the whole thing open, remembering to plaster a tentative smile on your face just in the nick of time.

“Mr Matthews,” you grind out sweetly, praying that the television in the background covers your stumbling addition of, “What a… a nice surprise!”

The man on the other side of the door straightens his posture at once. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s keeping one arm behind his back as he too slaps a grin on his face, though you imagine his is slightly more authentic than your own.

“Y/n, my dear,” he returns, revealing his hidden appendage and, to your surprise – and confusion - producing a fistful of limp, strikingly dark dahlias, the kind you might pull off the bargain shelf at your nearby petrol station.

 “I wasn’t sure you’d be awake,” Mick continues, edging towards you until the toe of his winter boot pokes over the threshold, “But I was in the area and thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing.”

With the flowers practically shoved under your nose, you try to surreptitiously lean backwards, putting your weight on the crutch as you reply, “O-oh, that’s, ah, very kind of you…”

Can he hear your pulse thundering? Oh god, can he see the dilation of your pupils? Does he know who you have hidden in your bedroom? He must… He has to. Why else would he be here?

Almost running on autopilot now, you continue, “You didn’t need to come all this way though. Um…” Trailing off to bite at the inside of your cheek, you hedge, “I didn’t realise you knew where to find me.”

To anyone with even a modicum of self-awareness, the statement is poised as a direct question, in expectation of an answer. ‘How did you know where I live?’ is being broadcast from every facet of your voice and expression.

But Mick, clueless or perhaps deliberately obtuse, merely lowers the flowers an inch and replies, “Oh, you’ve mentioned it to me a few times now.”

… Have you? It’s… entirely possible, you suppose. After all, you talk about a lot of things at work, and subsequently, you forget about a lot of things too. But who would remember all the small talk you make with co-workers, or the unimportant comments you toss out while you’re responding to ‘check-ups’ from management?

Your home address however… It took you a long time to even tell Andy where it was, in case of emergencies… You can’t imagine it’s something you let slip without noticing.

But… Mick is here…

So how else?

Shoving down the frustration at yourself for being careless, you clear your throat and nod at the flowers. “And, can I presume those are for…“

Mick jumps, staring down at the dahlias clutched in his fist as if he’s only just remembered they’re there. “Oh, yes of course they’re for you!” he proclaims, “Of course, of course. Only courteous to give flowers to people in need of healing, no?”

You blink at him mutely, pretending not to notice the excess oil he’s slicked into his hair tonight.

Is that why he’s here? To bring you flowers? Is that all?

Part of you wants to slump with relief. Another part however, older, wiser and sadder, remains cautious.

“Well, again, that’s really kind of you,” you tell him, reaching out to take the flowers from his hand. The stems seem to breathe elated sighs as he relinquishes his iron-clad grip. “I’ll have to find a vase for these…”

You’re not sure you even own a vase…

“Naturally,” he replies, peering over your shoulder to quirk a brow at the television blaring behind you, “Ah. Movie night?”

“Hmm?” Following his gaze, you rush out, “Oh yeah, I figured… since I’m off tomorrow and the foreseeable future, a little late night wouldn’t kill me…”

Would it be rude to ask your senior why he’s bringing you flowers at this time of night? Maybe you can tell him you were just about to turn off the TV and go to bed?

As you deliberate how best to tell the man on your doorstep to make himself scarce, he surprises you by abruptly asking, “May I come in?”

‘No!’ your own voice screams at you from inside your head, ‘Just say no!’

“I’m not sure that’s-“ you begin tactfully, but Mick is already bustling forwards, crowding you until you take a slight step to one side. After that, well… You’ve given him an inch, he’ll take a mile, as it were.

Once he has a literal foot in the door, Mick sweeps past you, moving breezily into your living area and roving his gaze all over the room, hands planted on his hips. “Goodness,” he remarks, cocking his head at your bare walls and sparse décor, “You don’t get much on a cleaner’s salary, do you? You haven’t put that… ahem, bonus to good use yet?”

You want to bristle like a cat that’s been kicked.

Mick’s jab is unmistakable, but his awareness of his own civility is not.

Swallowing back a retort, you simply murmur, “Hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I’ll go and put these in some water.” Truthfully, you’re still reeling from the fact he’d just invited himself inside.

Hobbling towards the sink, you delicately lay the flowers in the washing-up bowl and turn on the tap. An angry ring of red light catches the edge of your vision, and you glance over at the stove-top, clicking your tongue as you reach over and turn the cooker’s dial to the ‘off’ position.

Teeth find the inside of your cheek and bite down on the fleshy wall, worrying at it while you wait for the bowl to cover half of the flowers’ stems.

‘Monty knows better than to give himself away,’ you assure yourself, trying to pretend you can’t feel those eyes prickling at the back of your neck, ‘And it’s getting late. Mick’ll want to get home soon. This isn’t anything other than a concerned manager delivering well-wishes to a member of the staff.’

‘There’s a guest in the house,’ a voice that isn’t entirely your own pops up, unbidden, ‘Offer him a drink.’

“Can I get you anything?” you blurt out, turning off the dripping tap and swivelling about to face Mick, “Coffee? Tea?”

The man throws you a look, barking out a laugh. “My word, someone’s got you well-trained,” he chortles.

The moisture dries up in your mouth. He likely assumes he’s referring to your upbringing, or maybe your schooling, but his statement hits far too close to home and sends phantom prangs of alarm through your brain, fizzing like electricity.

But just as your head starts to feel light…

“No, nothing for me,” he sighs, entirely oblivious to the cracks forming in your outer veneer as he nods pointedly at your television, “Although, uh, TV’s a little loud, no?”

“O-oh, yes,” you give a start, wobbling past him, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.” That one was a little barbed, but you think it’s more than justified, given the circumstances.

Making your way to the sofa again, you reach for the controls, intent on swiping them off the cushions, but you freeze in your tracks when your eyes land on the overturned coffee table to your left. The coffee table Monty had knocked aside in his haste to get at you after you collapsed…

Behind you, Mick of course, has already seen it.

“Doing some redecorating?” he comments.

Thinking on your feet, you resume your task of picking up the remote and turning the television off, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence once more. “No, just… had to move it earlier to do some exercises the physician recommended.”

Mick ‘ah’s’ in apparent understanding whilst you elect to deliberately leave the table where it is, tipped on its side.

“You wouldn’t believe how much space it takes just to do some stretches,” you add, “I haven’t gotten around to moving it back.”

You make a concerted effort to keep your eyes from drifting towards your bedroom door, painfully conscious that the gator must be standing just on the other side, head pressed to the wood to follow the flow of conversation.

“Mm, I can imagine,” Mick grunts noncommittally, and as you return your attention to him, you’re just in time to see him helping himself to a seat on your sofa, breathing out a long, languid sigh as he glances up at you, ruddy cheeks pushing out in a smile. “Come, sit!” he insists abruptly, as if it isn’t your sofa that he’s inviting you to. “Rest that leg of yours, you must be tired.”

If only he knew how terribly his suggestion puts your back up and sends your pulse skyrocketing.

All of a sudden, from the direction of your bedroom door, there comes a soft, nearly inaudible scraping sound, not unlike claws dragging across wood.

To your horror, Mick’s head starts turning towards the noise, but quick as a flash, you draw his focus by stretching your jaws into a wide, obnoxious yawn and settling down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a respectable distance between you both.

Covering your mouth with a palm, you loudly proclaim, “Oh! Oh, excuse me. I suppose I have got one foot in bed already.”

You try for light-hearted, miss and land on uncomfortable instead. But if Mick gets the hint, he doesn’t outwardly acknowledge it, merely hums and pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of his shirt, daubing at a glistening temple.

As you perch awkwardly on the edge of the seat, you keep a firm grip on your crutch and make every conceivable effort to avoid casting any wayward glances at your bedroom door. If there’s even the slightest chance that Mick isn’t here because of Monty, then you aren’t keen on blowing your cover.

“So,” the man next to you starts conversationally, clapping his hands down on his knees, “You’re holding up all right, then?”

Shrugging a shoulder, you reply, “As well as I can be, all things considered.”

Mick purses his lips, head bobbing sympathetically. “Mm, I’m sure that’s the case,” he admits, “Bad business, that attack in the tunnels. Very bad business…”

Bad business, or bad for business, you wonder.

And talk about an understatement. You have to sternly remind yourself not to scoff.

His mention of the ‘incident’ however does raise a certain flag at the back of your mind as it occurs to you for the first time that Faz Co. wouldn’t be above sending someone to make sure you’re sticking by the non-disclosure agreement. You wouldn’t put it past them…

Is that why Mick is here? Second guessing yourself for the umpteenth time, you take a deep breath and gently try to steer the conversation towards something of real substance. “I… signed the exec’s paperwork, by the way… So, you don’t need to worry. The matter’s done with, so far as I’m concerned.”

The fact that you now have enough money to start looking for a nicer place to live is certainly motive enough to keep idle gossip to yourself.

In response, Mick only tips his head back and barks out a laugh, “Of course you did,” he chuckles, shaking his head at you, beaming, “You’re a damn good woman. You work hard, you keep your head down. You do your job, and you do it well. You’re loyal…”

Trailing off, he twists himself about at the torso to face you, the smile sloughing off his face as he adds, “Loyal enough that you’d come to the Plex the day after you were carted away in an ambulance.”

With gradual unease, your fingertips curl into the sofa cushions.

Whatever expression you pull must be dire indeed because Mick immediately drops his serious façade and lets out a chortle, leaning across the sofa to give your knee a pat just a few inches from the top of the cast, apparently too amused to notice that you blanch.

“Now then, no need to look so spooked,” he tells you, “I’m not here to lecture you about what you should and shouldn’t be doing following a major incident. I just thought I’d mention that I saw you today-“

You can barely focus on his voice. He’s allowed his clammy palm to lay like a lead weight upon your knee. It’s still there. Why is it still there? The temptation to kick your leg out as if to shoo away a bothersome fly is awfully prevalent.

“I must say,” he carries on, oblivious to the way your gaze drills into the back of his hand, “I was impressed by your dedication to the company. I’d have come over to say ‘hello,’ but…”

Breaking off to torture you with a pregnant pause, the man’s jovial expression collapses, turning sour. “Well…” He clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Then I saw you were with the gator.”

Right there on the sofa, your heart seizes up.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with that gator recently.”

‘He knows,’ you fret, flicking a frantic look at the door to your bedroom. The evidence is stacking up against you. Why turn up now, and why mention Monty at all?

Fingers trembling, you start the process of falling apart right next to him, debating whether or not to just get it over with and come clean when he suddenly furrows his brows at you and – at long last – draws back, retrieving his hand from your leg. “You need to watch yourself around that bot. You hear me?”

Relief and shock war for control for several seconds as you gape at him, only remembering to snap your jaw shut once you realise it’s been hanging awkwardly ajar for far too long. Swallowing thickly, you try to smooth down your bristling nerves and stammer out a clumsy, “I-I’m sorry?”

“I’m not the only one who’s noticed, you know,” Mick surges ahead as if you hadn’t spoken, “Most of the staff are starting to talk. A lot of the guests too. And now there’s that video going around…”

Your eyes are starting to ache with the effort of keeping them affixed to the manager, not your bedroom door.

“It’s no secret that it’s taken a real liking to you,” he grunts, “And the way I see it, that puts you at the most risk.”

Suddenly, you find it much easier to pay attention. Several, rapid blinks put Mick at the centre of your focus as you politely admit, “I’m sorry, I… I don’t follow.”

The look he gives you is decidedly pitying. Heaving a slow sigh through his nose, he roves his gaze up towards your ceiling as if he means to pluck the right words out of thin air. “Listen,” he begins patiently, like a teacher trying to explain something basic to their struggling student, “Bots don’t just… change like Monty has. I mean, what’s it been? Less than a week? And it’s gone from causing countless incidents of property damage and snapping at every staff member it sees to carrying one across the plex?”

He puffs out a derisive scoff and shakes his head, lips pursed. Then, leaning forward, he links his fingers together and props both elbows on top of his knees, glowering hard at the blank television screen. “I’m not buying it,” he utters darkly, “Sooner or later, its old ways will start kicking in again, and when they do, who’s the person directly in the firing line?”

Peeling one hand away from the other, he curls it into a fist, extends his forefinger, and aims it right between your eyes.

There’s something so inherently disconcerting about the action alone that you physically draw back from the man on the sofa, leaning away and eyeing his hand as though you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. But at the forefront of your mind – and a sudden source of great contention - is his implication that Monty is any kind of threat to you. Perhaps you wouldn’t be feeling a thrum of defensive indignation if the gator himself hadn’t been in the other room, no doubt able to hear every word Mick is saying about him. As it is, your chest starts to buzz with the desire to correct the man’s assumptions.

Peeling a dry tongue from the roof of your mouth, you slowly press out, “With all due respect, Sir-“

“-It’s Mick, doll. Just Mick.”

You try not to pull a face at his interruption. “Mick,” you start again, “With all due respect, I think that’s a bit unfair to Monty…”

At once, surprise opens his expression, smoothing the wrinkles between his brows as they go shooting up his forehead instead.

“Unfair?” he deadpans.

“I just mean that he’s been trying very hard to do things right lately, and we shouldn’t dismiss that just because he's had a few bad days, right?” Instances of breaking into your apartment notwithstanding. “Christ, Mick, he saved my life from that en-“

Mick’s beady eyes narrow at you.

Clearing your throat, you carefully amend, “… from that intruder.”

For several seconds, you watch on as the man’s face twists up once again into a frown, and he purses his lips at you, exhaling roughly through his nose. Leaning sideways across the sofa, he puts himself close to you and raises a finger into the air, wagging it at you in a manner that you really don’t care for.

“One example of the ‘correct’ behaviour doesn’t negate all the harm that bot has otherwise done,” he tells you firmly, “To the brand, to the plex…” Trailing off, his eyes gloss over as they drift to the back of his hand, staring at something you can’t see. After a moment, he quietly adds, “To me.”

Glancing sideways to find you fixing him with a strange look, he pushes out a cough. “A-And it certainly doesn’t prove that it’s safe. Never trust a dog that’s bitten once not to bite again.”

“Monty’s not a dog,” you point out, your brows set in a stern, unyielding line.

“No,” Mick agrees sharply, “It’s a two-tonne animatronic with a history of violence and a penchant for causing trouble wherever it goes.”

All at once, you bridle, clenching your fist around the crutch. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re in your own home that gives you a shot of courage straight through the chest. If Mick had confronted you with these accusations at work, you can’t deny you might have been a little more hesitant to retaliate. As it is, he came into your flat uninvited, he sat on your sofa and started bad-mouthing your friend…

 “Now hang on a moment, that’s just plain wrong,” you retort, “Monty hasn’t caused any trouble for me, and in fact, he’s gone out of his way to help me these past few days – quite a lot, actually.”

Somehow, Mick’s brows travel even further north towards his slicked-back hairline. He blinks, surprised, either because of your sudden and admittedly barbed defence of a bot you’ve only known for a few days, or because he hadn’t expected you to show him your backbone at all.

You quiver angrily on the opposite side of the sofa, heavy eyelids protesting the late hour whilst Mick blows a noisy breath through pursed lips, regarding you with newfound interest.

“Now then, there’s no need to get yourself all worked up,” he soothes cloyingly, “I didn’t come all this way to upset you.”

The willpower it requires not to bark ‘I am not upset!’ is tremendous, even more so to fake an apologetic smile and reply, “Of course you didn’t. Sorry, it’s just been a long day.” And getting longer with every second Mick sits there, behaving as though he’s done nothing untoward simply by being here.

“I’m sure it has,” he remarks.

And then… something happens. Something that sets the synapses in your brain firing off alarm bells left right and centre, paralysing you in your seat.

Without a word to announce his intentions, Mick shuffles himself along the sofa cushions towards you, closing the very deliberate gap you’d wedged between the pair of you minutes ago.

“If I’m being perfectly honest with you,” he begins in a low murmur, and you wish he wouldn’t be honest at all if that’s how he intends to speak, “I’m sorry I ever sent you into that damnable gator’s room in the first place. I mean, granted you’ve saved the company thousands in repairs since then… But… Ah, forgive me, perhaps this is unprofessional but…”

His already soft voice dies to absolute silence as he stretches his hand across the distance between you and sets it down on your leg once more, just above your knee - nowhere an uninvited hand ought to have any business treading.

You can’t tear your eyes off it. All the moisture in your throat has dried up, all the breath in your lungs stays trapped.

You’re not angry anymore.

“I simply wouldn’t forgive myself if that gator hurt you, you know,” his voice sounds muffled, half-drowned out under the blood rushing in your ears, “I’m only looking out for you.”

You’re scared.

He’s sitting close, too close, close enough that the smell of smoky cologne is suddenly clogging up your airways and sticking to the back of your throat when you inhale.

“Can you blame me for worrying though?” he asks, rubbing his hand up an inch as if he’s testing the waters. Sadly, your limits have been pushed before, further and further each time until the bad things just became mildly uncomfortable things, and the really dreadful things were simply better to ignore.

“You really are a very good worker. But that animatronic isn’t safe.”

Your breath catches in your gullet when you swallow, and even now, after all your experience and the hurdles you’ve cleared, you start to doubt yourself. Perhaps Mick really is just concerned. He certainly sounds it. You could be finding horror in something entirely benign. He’s a manager, he knows better.

He’s a molehill and you’re sitting here wondering if you should make him into a mountain.

Fingers twitch against your skin and you blanch, prying your jaws apart to… what? Scream? Tell him to get his hand off you? He hasn’t technically done anything wrong. You let him inside…

All of your senses come flooding back to you suddenly as a strange sound catches your ear; a latch clicking out of place, a handle turning inwards. Ears thrumming with adrenaline, you at last manage to rip at least part of your concentration off Mick and train your hearing towards your room instead.

Luckily for you and the idiot gator trying to stealthily open your bedroom door for some, inane reason, Mick seems far too preoccupied with catching your eye to even register the noise.

He’s looking for a reaction.

The appealing idea that this might just be one big misunderstanding starts to wash away bit by bit.

You cast your mind about, mentally searching the room for something – anything to derail the direction of his goal. When that fails, you reluctantly allow your gaze to wander from your television to the front door, over to the kitchen and then down to the flowers poking over the lip of the sink…

Flowers…

A stray gear in your brain chugs to life, kicking out a single, blessed idea.

“Hah!” you wheeze out breathlessly, forcing a wobbly smile onto your reluctant mouth, “You’re starting to sound like Andy. He worries about me too.”

There. It’s only for an instant, but out of the corner of an eye, you see Mick’s expression falter. “Flowers?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, “I’m surprised you didn’t arrive with him actually.” Feigning an expectant glance at your front door, you school curiosity onto your face and add, “You didn’t see him on your way up, did you?”

Mick’s hand starts to raise ever so slightly from your thigh, too slow for your liking, yet you grit your teeth and bear it for a while longer, like you always have.

“See him?” the man blinks, “I… no? Why would I have seen him?”

“Oh, it’s just, he texted me before you knocked on the door. Said he’d be here in another ten… fifteen minutes to drop off some stuff I left in my locker at work. I thought you might have come together.” Shrugging a shoulder as casually as you can, you quirk a brow at Mick and continue, “You really didn’t see him? Huh. I hope he’s okay. It’s not like him to be late.”

On the last word, the feeling of warm, sweaty skin pressed to your leg disappears.

Bingo.

“Well,” Mick announces brusquely, plastering a cheery grin on his face as he leans back and slaps his palms onto his knees, pushing himself off your sofa, “If Flowers is on his way, I’d better let you two have your space. Wouldn’t want to crowd you, hmm?”

Though it damn-near kills you to do so, you tilt your head and ask, “Oh, are you sure? I think he wanted to have a word with you about something.”

Mick’s face turns several shades paler than usual as he stumbles over his response. “Ah, well, I’m sure it can wait until I see him at work tomorrow.” Slipping a finger between his grey tie and the collar of his shirt, he tugs the fabric looser, taking several, hurried steps in the direction of your front door. “I’m sorry to have stopped in unannounced.”

Your smile reveals just a few too many teeth. “It’s not a problem,” you lie, using the crutch to lever yourself onto your feet, “I suppose I’ll see you at work, then?”

Mick’s backwards peddling might have been funny if you were in any mood to laugh.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes. I’ll see you then,” he titters, “You just stay off that leg in the meantime.” His hand grasps the door handle, sliding clumsily around it for a moment as his damp palms clamber for purchase.

You heart soars when he finally manages to pull it open, only to step halfway outside and hesitate in the threshold of your home. For several, awful seconds, you stare at the back of his head, wondering if he’s changed his mind, or worse, if he’s called your bluff.

Sparing you a look over his shoulder, Mick catches your eye. “Just… remember what I told you about the gator,” he tells you suddenly, “Preferably before you decide to visit the Plex again.”

And with that, he just… leaves, disappearing out into the hallway and pulling your door shut in his wake until the latch ‘clicks’ shut.

Mouth full of cotton wool, you listen intently for the thump of dress shoes hitting carpet to peter out as Mick beats a hasty retreat down the hall. Fainter and fainter, the sound fades, until at last, you hear the far-off 'ding' of the lift doors sliding open and shut, and with a shuddering inhale, you promptly crumple forwards against the door, gasping out a wet, pitiful noise whilst you scrabble at the lock with shuddering fingers.

It’s only when the metal latch slides into place with a definitive ‘shunk,’ that the door of your bedroom bursts open.

With all the speed and unimpeded ferocity of a stampeding bull, Monty comes surging from the darkness of your bedroom, his shoulder struts reared back like a pair of snakes ready to strike.

“What’d he do to you!?” he demands, crossing towards you in just a few strides.

You spare a thought for your downstairs neighbours before you remember they’ve been on holiday since last week. And a good thing too. Each step the gator takes sends tremors through the floor below your bare feet.

Monty’s sensors – by now so well-tuned to your vitals – had been going haywire behind the door, picking up on your thundering pulse and the steady uptick in your cortisol levels. He’d had to stand there, helpless but to listen as Mick spewed his rhetoric into your ear, and Monty hadn’t been able to defend himself or refute the man’s claims at all. But you-!

Wonderful, righteous, amicable you... You had! Monty's systems were thrumming, thoroughly cowed to hear you come to his defence, which made it only more difficult not to burst into the room and sweep you away from Mick when the man all but purred reassurances at you.

But worse, perhaps, was the gator’s inability to see what was happening on the other side of the door. Mick’s verbal blows against Monty’s behaviour couldn’t have been the catalyst for your climbing heartrate, though some small, selfish code in the animatronic hopes you felt at least a little indignation on his behalf.

No… Something else occurred here tonight. Something Monty wasn’t privy to, but wishes he was, if only to settle the ire broiling in his circuits.

You have your back to him, and your forehead pressed against the solid wood of your front door.

He has to see your face… He has to know. He has to read your expression and see for himself that there isn’t any fear there, just exasperation or even a fiery burst of anger. Anything… Just not fear. He would take all the fear in the world from any human he meets if he would only be spared from yours.

Wrestling back the hissing lines of code that poke and prod at his temper, Monty slows to a halt as he reaches you, his apertures twitching wide then narrow again whilst they flit up and down your body in search of damage.

“Hey,” he calls, sliding a single, clawed hand around your bicep, “You hear me? What’d he-?”

If he’d have just known… If he’d have hazarded a guess as to where your mind had gone in that moment, he might have thought twice about laying his hand on you.

“DON’T-!” you yelp shrilly, whirling around to face him and thrusting your wrist against his, knocking the limb aside as if to parry a weapon instead of his arm.

Startled, the gator wrenches his appendage back, holding it above his shoulder in a display of surrender as he blinks down at you dumbly, jaw falling ajar.

And then, he sees it.

You’re staring up at him, your face drawn back, haggard and half-mad with terror, your chest heaves with the effort of taking in breaths.

He doesn’t have to perform a scan to determine what he’s been dreading. Humans have looked at him like that ever since he was first brought online. Monty’s processor thumps, dredging up a memory of Mick - younger and bolder than the man he is now – reeling away from the gator, face as pale as Moon’s and his eyes so wide the entire iris was exposed. Monty remembers the odd sensation of something soft collapsing between his teeth.

The animatronic violently purges the memory from his internal storage, though he knows it’ll still linger there somewhere, buried behind layer upon layer of firewalls until his guard is lowered once more.

All at once, he recoils like he’s been hit by a wrecking ball, staggering backwards until his tail hits the wall behind him and he’s forced to stop. Unable to retreat any further, unable to offer you any more distance, he simply stares at you from his side of the room.

It’s over… This wonderful, safe harbour he’d found in you is finally finished… You believe what Mick had said about Monty being a danger to you.

He always knew this had to end, of course. Good things can’t thrive in the vicinity of a Faz Co. animatronic. He just… didn’t think the time would come so soon.

Even still, he can’t help but cling with raw, desperate hope to you, scrabbling to keep a hold of your good graces because he’s too stubborn or too foolish to let go.

“I-I wouldn’t -“ he starts, concealing his claws with his fists and tucking them against his chest, “- I’d never… I wouldn’t hurt you. Not you, not ever. You’re…”

His voice box sputters, cutting out for a moment as he searches his bank of vocabulary for what you are.

When it finally dawns on him, his processor almost grinds to a halt.

“You’re all I got,” he confesses slowly, surprising himself with the revelation, “I don’t got nobody else…I ain’t gonna hurt you, you know that.”

You have to know that.

Please know that.

Gradually, far too gradually for the gator’s highly strung code to endure, you lower your arm  too look at him, brows high on your forehead.

“Monty?” you utter quietly, sending a quick glance between the animatronic’s downcast snout and the hands he still keeps curled beneath his chest. In another blink, you realise what you’ve just insinuated through action alone.

“Oh, I… Monty – No, of course you wouldn’t. I’m so sorry, I… God.” Slouching back against the door, your head knocks against it as you drop a palm over your face. “This is such a mess.”

Lowering your palm to the door, you splay your fingers over the wood behind you, drawing in a steadying breath and trying to ground yourself to the solidity at your spine. Another breath, and you finally drop your eyes to the gator.

For the briefest moment, you consider telling him why you couldn’t bear to feel a hand on you right now.

Your mouth creaks open, the words sitting on the tip of your tongue.

But something along the vein of common sense tells you that it wouldn’t be fair to burden Monty with such knowledge.

‘Besides,’ you remind yourself, borrowing your mother’s words, ‘It’s all in the past, and least said, soonest mended.’

Morose yet resigned, you swallow back your admission.

“I’m sorry, Monty,” you offer instead, raising a hand to rub at your drooping eyelids, “I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Unconvinced, the gator curls his tail inward, eyeing your arm - the one he’d grabbed.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The question seems to creep out of him, his volume levels set so low that you have to strain your ears to hear it.

“No,” you reassure him, dropping your hand to give him a gentle, albeit tired smile, “No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” he readily agrees, lifting his snout a little.

For a few seconds, the pair of you simply regard each other from opposite sides of the room, until eventually – and reluctantly – you have to let your smile fade away, replacing it with a worn, heavyhearted frown.

“That was close though,” you whisper to yourself, letting your eyes slip shut, “Shit, that was too close.”

How on Earth Mick didn’t find out about Monty’s presence here, you’ll never know.

A mechanical whir followed by a thud lets you know the gator has just edged a step closer. “Yeah, no kiddin’…” There’s a pregnant pause, and then you jump slightly, snapping your eyes open as Monty raises his voice to an indignant bark, “And just what in the heck did he think he was doing, comin’ round here in the middle of the night anyway?”

The look you shoot the gator is withering enough to have him tilting his head sideways.

“What?” he asks, apparently oblivious.

You elect to gloss over his blatant hypocrisy in favour of jabbing a finger at him, though the action lacks the same hostility it might have ten minutes ago. “You know, it wouldn’t have been ‘too close’ if you hadn’t been here in the first place.”

Perhaps recognising the rising challenge in your tone, Monty’s stance shifts as he raises up on his struts, towering so high that his mohawk almost brushes the ceiling. He peers down the length of his snout at you, the line of his brows set and rigid, half shuttering his optics.

“I ain’t sorry,” he tells you, and it’s so matter of fact that you give a hard blink, your own eyebrows springing up towards your hairline.

You’re starting to feel a little like Andy. If this is how exasperated the poor mechanic feels when you do something stupid, then you owe him several, sincere apologies.

“I… I was, though,” Monty adds suddenly, lowering his nose as if the bluster was only ever meant to be short-lived, “Before Matthews turned up. But now, I…”

For a second, he falters, then bulldozes through his hesitation with a sharp grunt and a shake of his head, meeting your gaze resolutely. “Now, I’m glad I was here.”

His optics flicker brightly, though they dart between your face and the cast on your leg at frequent intervals as though he’s uncertain of himself yet determined not to back down from his conviction.

“I ain’t stupid,“ he insists, but there’s too much fervency behind it, like you’re not the only one he’s trying to convince, “Matthews was doin’ something to you. If you hadn’t’a got rid of him, I’d’ve…“

“…What, Monty,” you sigh when it becomes clear he’s hesitating to sort through his words again, “What would you have done, short of giving us both away?”

“I’d have stopped him,” he growls, puffing out his chest and jabbing it with the sharp claw of his thumb, “I’d’ve protected you.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Oh, my hero. You’d get yourself scrapped, and me arrested for kidnapping an animatronic.”

It’s disconcerting to see a bot so large and intimidating positively wilt as though your point has just heaped a very real, very tangible weight upon his shoulders.

Letting a sigh slip through your nose, you catch a loose bit of skin between your teeth, worrying at it in the tangible silence that hovers between you and the gator.

You want to be angry with him for being here. You want to tell him how foolish and misguided his programming was to convince him that he should leave the Plex to seek you out. But if there was any strength left in you after the day’s events, it’s been well and truly sapped clean out of you. In fact, ‘sapped’ is too gentle a word for it. As memories try to pile up on top of one another, it takes more effort than you’d care to admit to beat them down again, leaving you with very little residual energy to conjure any resentment for an animatronic who followed you home because he wanted to make sure you got there safely.

This behaviour is so out of character for him.

And you? Well, you’re so out of your depth. Shit, you can never tell Sun and Moon about Monty’s escape. If the daycare attendants find out that they can leave the Plex as well, you’ll be in for a whole new world of trouble.

While you slump against the door, contemplating, Monty’s large head swings to the left, his optics studying the window. He’d wrenched it open so hard the frame had torn jagged splinters from the surrounding wood. The corner of his lips turn south as he lowers his optics to the table he’d overturned. That alone had almost been enough to rouse suspicion, but you’d explained it away expertly, from what he could hear, and Mick ended up none the wiser.

It comes as no real shock to the gator that if it weren’t for your quick thinking and well-oiled responses, he’d have given himself away ten times over. He’d have given you away…

Impulsive, Freddy might call him.

Stupid, would be Roxanne’s more cutting, though no less accurate decree.

It’s never been an easy thing for Montgomery Gator to admit that he might have been wrong. Even if his protocols thrum with a newfound urge to guard a member of Fazbear Co.’s faculty, his processor knows all too well that his coming here put you at the most risk.

The gator’s tail drops to the ground with a dull ‘thunk’ of plastic and metal on the carpet. “I just wanted to do somethin’ right for once,” he utters to the stillness, his truest desire finally spoken aloud.

He doesn’t look at you this time, but his audials pick up your gentle intake of breath and wonders what happened to the animatronic who would have bitten your head off several days ago just for looking at him the wrong way.

At least if that Monty did something wrong, it was usually deliberate. Somehow, as he’s quickly coming to learn, it’s so much worse trying to do something right, and getting it wrong anyway than doing something wrong in the first place.

Hurts more, he concedes.

The gator is too busy discovering the scope of his regret to notice you push yourself off the door, leaning hard onto your crutch as you squint up at him, cocking your head to one side like he’s a puzzle you’re still figuring out. Admittedly, you absolutely are. You’re not an engineer or a programmer. You can’t begin to fathom the depths that Monty’s learning algorithms can reach.

All you can see is an animatronic condemned by those who made him, trying to be better than he’s told he is. So, while you can’t condone his being here, for his own sake, you realise that he - much like yourself - has likely had more than enough of people telling him off.

Sucking down a long, thick breath, you release it all in as weary a sigh as you’ve ever expelled.

“You’re doing fine, Monty,” you say, and it’s kinder, warmer than you’ve sounded all evening, “You’re doing just fine. I mean, this was a little…” Pausing to gesture loosely at the overturned coffee table, you let out a soft laugh and continue, “Uh, overzealous. But your heart was definitely in the right place.”

‘Your heart.’

Slowly, hesitantly, Monty’s tail lifts from the ground, rising with the edges of his crocodilian smile. You might never know how much it means to him that you don’t point out how he doesn’t technically have a heart. And it means even more to hear that you know his intentions came from a good place.

“But,” you add, inhaling, like you’re bracing yourself, “I’m still not happy you’ve put yourself in such a precarious position just to check up on me.”

Monty’s metal framework groans as he slumps again.

“Ugh. Listen to me,” you chuckle, rubbing your temple, “I’m starting to sound like Andy.” Starting forwards, you begin limping for your room, stifling a wide, clumsy yawn behind the back of your hand. “Now, I have had, like, the longest day. And I’m going to bed before I keel over.”

“…But… what about your food?” he asks, sparing a glance over at the saucepan sitting idly on the countertop. The water inside has long gone cold.

Your footsteps pause as you draw alongside him, reaching out to lay a palm on your bedroom door. “I’m not hungry,” you murmur after a second. It’s not entirely a lie. For some reason, the meagre appetite you had for cheap noodles and tea has evaporated, leaving you hollow, yes, but not nearly as hollow as you were rendered by the touch of Mick’s hand on your leg.

Giving your door a shove, you push it open and reach around the corner, sliding your fingers along the interior wall until you find the light switch, flicking it on and illuminating the bedroom with a warm, yellow glow. Monty is frowning at you, you can feel his crimson optics boring into the side of your head, but you ignore him to say, “I suggest you go back to the Plex before you run out of charge.”

You must have mistaken the gator’s earlier acquiescence for a willingness to leave.

“I got plenty of charge,” he deflects.

As it is, Monty’s optics rove over the top of your head, widening significantly behind his glasses as they land upon the contents of the room that he’d been standing in just minutes ago. He hadn’t bothered to sate his curiosity then, far more apprehensive about what was happening on the outside of the space, but now, without oppressive darkness cloaking every corner and without a potential threat to contend with, his protocols take a backseat to his inquisitiveness.

He observes closely as you shuffle into the new territory, your territory, where you immediately make a beeline for the nest – bed, his CPU corrects – that’s set against the furthest wall.

Swinging his prodigious bulk around, the animatronic trails after you, ducking underneath the doorway and raising his snout to the air.

You don’t even have to look over a shoulder to know you’re being tailed. The heavy stomps are proof enough of the gator’s proximity. “Monty, come on,” you whine, “You’ve gotta go home.”

The gator only offers a gruff hum in response, otherwise distracted by the simple yet pivotal revelation that he, for the first time, is seeing your private, recharging chamber. Immediately, he’s struck by how much more lived-in this humble space is. Out there, in your kitchenette and the adjacent living room, everything seemed so much more bland. Less you.

In here, there are pieces of you scattered into each corner of the room, from the pile of unwashed clothes sitting in a nearby chair to the row of house plants lined up like soldiers along the breadth of your windowsill.

Curious, his optics roam towards a desk in the corner, upon which sits - to his immediate intrigue – a large, square tank filled almost to the brim with crystal-clear water, and lit from above by a cool, fluorescent light bulb. He knows what it is at once, though he’s never been privy to one in person before.

At his back, you reach the bed and promptly collapse onto your rear at the edge of the mattress, dropping your crutch to the floor and listening to it land with a sharp clatter of plastic.

“Ohhh,” you groan tiredly, leaning forwards to balance your elbows on your knees and drop your face into a palm, trying in vain to rub away the bags underneath your eyes with numbing fingertips.

Your whole body aches ferociously, all stemming from the sharp twinge of your ankle that lays protected behind a thick, white cast.

Six Weeks…

Day one has been hard enough. How are you supposed to make it to day forty-two? The question remains; is it uphill from here, or down?

Glancing over a shoulder, you restrain an impromptu smile before it can spread as you spot Monty creeping up to the fish tank on your desk, his head hunched low to peer through the glass at your little corydoras sifting eagerly through the substrate in search of hidden food.

“Hey, little guys,” the animatronic murmurs, his optics casting the water in a gentle, pinkish glow.

Fish are a novelty for him. He knows of them, of course, has seen images of them depicting many various shapes, sizes, and colours. He knows they can’t survive for long outside of water, and he knows they’re covered in scales.

But to see for himself how those scales flash under his scrutinous, crimson LEDs, to watch their barbels twitch as they playfully chase one another along the floor of the tank…

There’s a strange kinship there for the creatures who share the waterways with his real-life counterparts.

He likes them, he decides. He likes that you have them. It speaks to an apparent affinity for aquatically-inclined animals…

For several moments, you merely observe the gator from your bed, wondering why he’s stalling. At least, you assume he’s stalling.

“Monty,” you yawn, pretending not to notice how his purple shoulder struts jump in response to your voice, “What are you doing?”

The gator’s head twitches towards you briefly. “M’sayin’ hi to the fish,” he states simply.

Shooting him a deadpan glare, you retort, “You know what I mean. Why are you still here? You need to get back to the Plex before you’re missed.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna miss me,” he shrugs, “Sides, I’ve still got a couple’a hours of juice left in the tank. Don’t worry.”

“But I am worried, Monty,” you squeeze out - and oh, there’s that pinch of tenderness to soften the hard, brutal metal hidden under his casing – “If I wasn’t worried about getting caught, I’d haul you back to the Plex myself… How did you get here unseen anyway?”

“Came over the rooftops,” he replies proudly, cocking his head at a fish that approaches the glass, lured by the glow of his optics.

“The rooftops!?” you sputter, “How on Earth did you get up there!?”

Flashing a cheshire grin, the gator gives the casing on his thigh two hearty slaps. “Got the best pneumatic cylinders in the business. These things’ll carry me distances you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes I use ‘em to get from one side of the catwalks to the other. This is the first time I’ve seen what they can really do.”

Collapsing backwards on top of the covers, you splay your arms out on either side of you, letting a long, appreciative whistle pass your lips. “You jumped…. All the way here?” you realise aloud.

“Beats walkin’.”

“… And you’re going to jump all the way back?”

“Can’t exactly take a cab, can I?”

You don’t respond for a long while… So long that he turns himself all the way around and rises to his feet, half expecting to find you fast asleep on the bed.

Your eyes are closed, and you’ve gone very still. Your chest rises and falls with even, steady breaths, though your legs are still dangling over the side of the mattress, toes brushing against the carpet.

Monty frowns. A hum of machinery gives him away, not so silent as he paces around the bed towards you and lowers himself down onto one knee, reaching for your legs with the intention to lift them up to the bed so you can lay flat.

His first-aid protocols are nowhere near as advanced as Freddy’s, but he’s skimmed enough medical files in the last twelve hours to know that you should keep your damaged leg elevated.

With gradual movements, the animatronic’s fingers flex and stretch for your cast. However, his purple claws barely make it within a foot of your appendage when your body goes absolutely rigid, as though you’ve turned to stone right there on the mattress.

At once, Monty stops, glancing up to see one of your eyelids crack open and swivel over to peer at him, blinking slowly in the glow cast by his optics. “What’re you doing?” you ask guardedly. Something in your voice quivers. He catches it right away.

“I… just – I was gonna put your legs on the bed,” he explains.

The clock on your bedside table ticks quietly ever onwards, and it’s only when you remember to exhale that he considers your expression for another moment and finally ducks his head, asking, “… Can I touch you?”

Stuffing your teeth into your bottom lip, you clutch a fistful of the duvet beneath you and slowly shake your head from side to side. “Not… Not yet… I’m not…”

You falter, swallowing a painful lump that sticks in your throat like guilt. Monty didn’t do anything, after all.

But for an animatronic, his response comes far too softly.

“Okay,” he nods, pulling his hands away and returning them to his lap.

And that’s… all he does for a long time.

Sniffing, you lower your gaze, tugging yourself backwards using the duvet as leverage until you can haul your heavy cast over the side and stretch your legs out towards the foot of the bed, sighing in relief.

"Better put a pillow under there," Monty pipes up, jutting his chin towards the fluffy, white cushions spread out behind you.

Clicking your tongue, you stretch behind yourself and snag the first pillow your fingers grasp, hauling it over your head and tossing it haphazardly near your leg. After taking a moment to brace yourself, you lean back on your elbows and bite your tongue to keep down a cry as you lift the leg up and onto the pillow.

Through it all, Monty says nothing further. He does stare at you though…

You’ve noticed he’s being doing that a lot lately. What was it Mick said?

‘It’s no secret that it’s taken a real liking to you.’

You don’t want to think about Mick.

Finally, when the gator’s staring starts to grow a little too… intimate, you swallow thickly and peel your lips apart to mumble, “Monty, why don’t you want to go back to the Plex?”

He perks up at his name but loses his enthusiasm as he registers the question.

“I’ll go back soon,” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Monty’s vents hiss as he simulates a pensive sigh - like yours - and begins folding his legs up underneath himself, his plates sliding over each other as he settles himself down onto his rear, arms draping loosely over his knees. He knows.

“Six weeks…” he mutters, cautiously lowering his long chin until it brushes the duvet cover beside you. When you don’t protest or move away, he gives his head a little more rein to droop, and the framework in his neck no longer strains to keep it aloft.

Confusion lays its mark bare across your face. “What?”

Six weeks,” he repeats, “That’s how long you’re gonna be gone for. That’s a long time to…” Static clings to his voice-box, stifling his words. With a grimace, Monty thumps a fist twice over his chest until something clicks audibly into place. Then, forcing a laugh, he falteringly adds, “S’a… long time for a bot to go without having his room cleaned, yeah?”

“You could always let the S.T.A.F.F bots help you,” you point out.

“Nah, they wouldn’t do it right.”

A weary smirk toys with the edge of your mouth as you reply, “Well, have you considered – and this might be a bit outlandish, but bear with me here – have you considered just… cleaning it yourself?”

“Course I have,” he retorts, “But… c’mon, it’d be more fun with you, wouldn’t it?”

He should have known when your smirk recedes to leave him looking at a flat, sombre line that you weren’t fooled for a moment.

“Monty… Is the truth really that embarrassing?” you pose.

‘Yes…’ he huffs wordlessly to himself, ‘It is.’

 “It’s all gonna go back to the way it was before,” he mumbles into the duvet.

“What is?”

“Everythin’,” he suddenly exclaims, wrenching his head back up, “It’ll go back to how it was before you came along. You’ll be gone for six weeks! What if I start gettin’ angry again? What if I forget about what you taught me, ‘bout accidents n’ stuff?” That thought brings on another that’s even more dreadful, and he curls his hands underneath his chest, leaning into them against the side of the bed. “What if you forget about me?”

You blink at him, bewildered, studying the jarringly human behaviour he’s exhibiting, and wondering, not for the first time, if it says something about you that you see humanity in so much of what these animatronics do.

“Hey,” you offer, giving him a sympathetic smile when he slides his nose further along the duvet until it almost touches your arm. Almost. “You might be overthinking things, Monty. I’m pretty sure I could never forget you.” You laugh at that, causing him to blow a whuff of air against your forearm. “And besides,” you add, “Six weeks is… like, nothing, okay? It’ll go by faster than you think.”

Far from convinced, the gator only grumbles unintelligibly into the duvet and casts his optics to the other side of the room. The bed underneath you rumbles as the rich bass growls out of his speakers.

“Listen...” you sigh, flopping your head down onto the pillow to blink up at the ceiling overhead, “When I was younger, one of my best friends moved halfway across the world with her family.”

Immediately, the gator’s jaw clenches at the mention of your ‘best friend’ before he catches the action and berates himself for behaving like a toddler being asked to share their favourite toy.

“We haven’t seen each other for… Oh boy, ten years, maybe? I still call her sometimes… Probably not as often as I should... And you know what?”

“…What?”

You roll your head over to peer at the animatronic beside you, finding his focus has returned to your face.

Pulling your mouth into a sleepy smile, you let out a hum before murmuring, “Every time I ring, she’s always so pleased to hear from me. I bet if she were to walk through my door right now, it would be like no time had passed at all.”

Monty’s optic shutters click open and shut. “How come?” he prompts quietly.

“Well, do you think I love her any less now because I haven’t seen her for ten years?” you reply, “Friends can’t be together all the time, you know. Even if they might want to be. Life gets in the way. Families, jobs, fatigue, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still friends. So, you don’t need to worry about not seeing me for a few weeks, okay?”

You can’t help but find this conversation very reminiscent to a similar one you had to have with Sunny after he learned you were leaving for a week of summer vacation.

“I ain’t worried,” Monty lies through his teeth, “Just wonderin’ how you’re gonna have any fun without me around.”

“Fun was not the doctor’s recommended treatment,” you yawn, letting your eyes slip shut and keeping them closed, bogged down by a cumbersome weight that’s been heaped upon your shoulders. A myriad of hurried little thoughts swirl around inside your head, too numerous to pin any single one down. Mick’s arrival and subsequent behaviour, whether you’re trying to read too much into what might have been nothing more than a friendly gesture, Monty’s escape from the Plex and the sudden responsibility you have for an animatronic you’ve barely known a week…

You just need to sleep.

‘It’ll all make sense in the morning,’ you try to tell yourself…

You’d make a shit salesperson.

For some time, the quiet gurgling of your tank's filter provides a soothing backdrop to the silence cast between you and the animatronic.

“Can I stay here?” Monty’s question breaks through the fog of flitting thoughts, his volume barely a digit away from being entirely mute, “With you? Just for a lil’ while?”

Prying your eyelids apart to blink tiredly at the gator, you let your chest fill with a slow, heavy breath, blowing it all out again through your nose.

“… Just this once,” you whisper back.

The gator’s optics brighten, then flit towards the movement of your hand on the bed.

You’ve raised your forearm, inching the appendage closer to Monty’s snout. Fingers worn dry and abrasive from chemicals and labour touch down on top of the animatronic’s nose, followed by your palm, spreading a pleasant flood of warmth down through his teeth and onto his tongue.

In response, some of Monty’s systems backfire, kicking errors codes to his HUD that tell him he’s overheating, and should release excess coolant to the affected areas. He ignores the alerts. He ignores everything. Everything that isn’t your hand is left by the wayside, forgotten in favour of soaking up a touch that he knows would never cause hurt.

Letting his optics click shut, the gator draws his silicone lips up into a lax, lazy smile.

The muffled ‘thumps’ of a heavy tail fall and rise from the carpet over and over, and Monty’s frame seems to purr as he relaxes his massive head onto your mattress, contented and committed to this spot until his battery hits zero and his limbs rust from underuse.

He knows he has to leave, but for now, just pretending… It’s the happiest he’s been in…

It’s the happiest he’s been.

“Just this once.”

[urf1lterr]

afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

previous chapter: [1]

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 15k

status: 2/3 complete

author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.

"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"

"Andrew!"

"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.

It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.

So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.

The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.

Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.

Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.

You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.

Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.

You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.

And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.

To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."

In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.

Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.

Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.

Which you weren't, obviously.

Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.

Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."

Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."

Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.

She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.

"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"

Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"

"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."

"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."

"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."

"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."

"I never said I was stressing over hi-"

"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."

Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.

Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"

Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.

But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?

Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.

"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."

"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."

Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"

"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."

"I don't get it."

Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."

Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."

"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.

A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.

Because they really wanted to know the drama.

Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.

Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"

"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."

Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.

Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."

Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.

Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.

"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."

Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."

Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.

"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"

Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"

"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.

"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.

"Was it?"

"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"

"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"

Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.

"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."

Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"

Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."

"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.

You had to for your own good.

"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."

"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.

You wish you knew.

"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."

"Did that work?"

Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."

You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.

But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.

That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.

Like always.

"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."

Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."

It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.

You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.

But you were human and sometimes humans act human.

"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"

Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."

Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"

"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.

Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.

"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."

Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."

It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.

"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"

"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.

"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.

"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."

"What did he say?"

"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.

He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.

"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"

Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.

He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.

You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."

Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"

Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"

Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"

"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."

Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."

If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.

"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.

"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."

"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"

"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."

Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.

Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"

"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.

Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.

But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.

"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"

Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"

Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"

Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.

At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.

If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.

Or anger across.

But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.

Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.

"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"

Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"

"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"

"We get it."

Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.

"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"

"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"

Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.

"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.

But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.

Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.

Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"

"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"

Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"

"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.

"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"

"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.

What a way to dismiss your feelings.

"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"

"I can't do that either!"

"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."

As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.

"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."

He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.

Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.

Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.

"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"

"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."

"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.

Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"

Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."

"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.

"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.

"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.

"I mean he did promise her it."

Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."

"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.

Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"

"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.

She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."

"And how long did that last?"

Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."

"Over?"

Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."

"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."

"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."

Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"

Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.

Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.

"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.

Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.

Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.

"Spill the beans."

Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.

Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.

Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"

Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.

"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."

Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.

He did neither one.

Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?

"And who were you with?"

He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."

Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"

After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"

Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.

It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.

"Well, why didn't you at least text?"

Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."

"And that's bad?"

He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."

Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."

"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.

"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.

"Let me finish the story!"

Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.

Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.

"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.

Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-

Point is- always wear protection.

Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-

"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."

Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"

Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.

His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.

That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.

At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.

"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.

There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.

Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.

And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.

"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."

"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."

Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."

"Continue!"

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.

Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.

For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.

You accepted.

Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.

You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.

Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"

"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.

Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.

A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."

Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.

It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.

"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.

Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.

"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."

Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"

"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."

Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.

"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.

"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.

Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"

Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."

Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."

Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"

Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.

"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."

"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.

He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.

"I know but I had a crammed morning-"

"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."

Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.

"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.

And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.

Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"

"Y/n?!"

Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.

Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."

"You tricked me!"

"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.

Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.

"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.

"They were gummy supplements!"

Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"

Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"

Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.

"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.

Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?

"That's who you are to me now."

Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.

It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before fleeing.

Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.

Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.

Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.

You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.

Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.

Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.

You hit him.

"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-

"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.

"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"

Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.

Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.

Sighing in relief, he did.

Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.

Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"

Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.

Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."

Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.

Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?

"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."

Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.

"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."

Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.

"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.

"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"

"Shut up, Andrew."

"Sorry, go on."

Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.

This was not going to end well.

"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.

"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.

Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"

Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.

Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."

"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"

"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.

Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.

"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."

Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.

But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.

"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."

"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."

"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"

"Then why did you sleepover?!"

"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.

"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.

Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"

"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.

Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.

"Come here."

Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"

Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.

It was...peaceful.

Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."

Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.

And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.

Every single time.

You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.

"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"

Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.

You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.

"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."

Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.

"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."

"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."

"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.

What an emotional day it has been.

-

"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.

Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.

Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.

Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.

You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.

Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.

It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.

But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."

As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.

She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.

Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.

But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.

However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.

Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.

Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.

After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.

"What's up?"

She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"

Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.

Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're thinking about him, huh."

Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.

"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.

"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"

Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."

"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."

"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."

She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.

She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.

But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.

"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."

"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."

"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.

That must mean something.

Did it?

Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."

"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"

Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.

"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."

"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.

There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.

"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."

Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.

Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.

The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.

"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.

Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.

What can you say- she was a charmer.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.

"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"

Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.

Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!

Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.

"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."

"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."

With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.

Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"

"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"

Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.

You.

"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."

Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.

You got nothing.

Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.

For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.

As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.

There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.

Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.

Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.

"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."

"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.

Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.

It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.

In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.

And you call yourself an actress.

Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.

You didn't.

Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."

Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"

"No, I had it on me during the previews."

"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."

Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.

Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.

Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.

Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.

Gross.

Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.

"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.

Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!

The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.

How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?

"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.

Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.

Smart.

Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?

Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.

But now he's...walking away?

"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.

You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.

Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."

Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."

Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.

He really was over you.

"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."

Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."

Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."

Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."

Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.

In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.

"And I take that back but-"

Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."

Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."

Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."

Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.

Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.

You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.

"Typical? What do you mean by that?"

"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."

You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?

"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."

"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.

Very poetic.

Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"

Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."

Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.

Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"

"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."

Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.

"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.

"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."

"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"

Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."

Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"

Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"

Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."

"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."

"I didn't plan on that happening a-"

"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.

You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.

"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"

"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."

You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?

"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"

"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.

He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.

And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.

He didn't.

"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."

This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"

"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."

High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.

"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.

Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.

He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.

Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.

You fucked up- for real this time.

In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.

Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.

Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.

And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.

But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.

"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."

"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.

"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."

Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"

Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.

But he knew he'd be lying.

"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."

"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."

"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."

With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.

You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?

Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."

Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"

"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."

"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."

Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.

Ring? As in, an engagement ring?

Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"

Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.

Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.

If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.

Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.

Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.

"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"

"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."

Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"

"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.

"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.

You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.

And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.

+

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[murasaki-cha]

So I read Serena.... wow. I'm gonna make a long post expressing my opinions because THERE ARE A LOT!! (there's pictures too!)

These are going to be just my thoughts and how I understood the story + characters so if anyone disagrees, sorry but our vibes don't match, please don't come at me.

Now first of all can they adopt me??

Ok going to be serious here (not for long) this manhwa is so good!! I have read another manhwa of Ina-nim, the author/artist, called "Black Winter" (it's amazing go check it out) so I knew this was going to have layers upon layers as a story. AND IT DID!!

The story is so complex, everyone is scheming something, no one says the full truth and you never know when you might get stabbed in the back.

I'm going to be honest, I've known about Serena since it came out and I didn't want to read it. Not because I thought the story was bad or anything, since I knew how great this author is already thanks to their previous story, but because I knew it was going to be messy. Super messy. And it is, it is a hot dumpster fire mess. And I didn't really want to deal with it since it would have been exhausting and I would have dropped it or put it on hold. But by now (chapter 72 as of the latest update) I think that it has become more "stable" to say and I found it easier to enjoy the story since I read it in one go.

I particularly loved that none of the characters were good. No one. But no one is exactly bad either. Everyone here is just gray, they're flawed, they do bad stuff, they hurt each other. No one is right or wrong. We see things form their perspective and we see their reasoning but whether we sympathise with them is up to us because, let's be real, even their thought process can be fucked up at times.

Besides Victor. Victor is pure evil. If we throw holy water at Victor he will start melting. Victor should be burned.

Now moving along let's talk about the main characters.

Starting with Serena. First of all MOTHER!!🛐-

Now Serena is the type of fl I expected to get lots of hate(and she did). She had a lover while she was married, she was way too stubborn, she thinks she's better than everyone, etc. And yeah she did all those things. She's also a very traumatised little girl who had her entire world shattered at the age of 17, had to marry a stranger and feel her worth slip through her fingers. Serena is constantly paranoid due to her past experiences and the way she's been treated. She's desperately grasping for whatever little power she can have in the begining.

Now that is not to say she's never done anything wrong. Her using Fredrick as merely a way to destress and a shield, her prejudice against Eiser simply because of his family, her thinking she deserves to be in charge even if she is unexperienced simply because she is a Serenity, her refusing to see anything from anyone's perspective but hers. She's too prideful, too stubborn, too guarded.

But she's a great businesswoman, she takes her tasks seriously and she's super intelligent. The moment she started working on the hotel she changed because she was finally in her element. That spoiled, angry Serena in the beginning was simply what the isolation had done to her, the way it had fundamentally changed her. She started seeing everything in a new light when she started learning how to manage the hotel and being more open minded while still being guarded. Serena is a perfect morally gray main character, she's flawed, she's human.

Next we have Eiser. DADDY-

I swear I'm not being biased when I say I loved Eiser SO MUCH! First things first, he is an asshole. Not gonna sugar coat it. In fact that is the sugar coating. He is quite possibly the most secretive man alive, we know exactly 3 things about his past in the last 72 chapters and I'm not even being sarcastic, that's the total amount. And that is probably what makes him so interesting as a character to me at least.

One of my favorite things about Eiser was that he didn't have any feelings about Serena in the beginning. Yeah he mostly saw her as a means to an end and felt a smidge of responsibility because of her brother, but that was it. He honestly did not care about what Serena did or thought. Eiser's only objective is to save Serenity hotel, probably fuck up his family along the way because screw them and the rest is an enigma. He doesn't do feelings, not anymore at least.

We learn from the beginning that he's not a "good guy", he's not Male Lead™ that's mean to fl to protect her or to not get close to her and his whole world revolves around her etc. He's not just this guy meant to be a love interest, he's a whole other well constructed character. He has his own goals (which we never know what they are because his thought's are more secretive and guarded than the Vatican Apostolic Archives), he follows the most efficient way to achieve those goals and that's all that matters to him. He recognized Serena's skills all along yet still thought of her as a spoiled little princess because he didn't care about knowing her, didn't need to, that wasn't going to help him.

There really isn't much development about Eiser aside his relationship with Serena (but that's a talk about further below), but that's kind of on point for him. Unlike Serena, Eiser has been doing business for years now, he knows how to run things, he knows how to work with people, he has experience and skill and friends (surprisingly). Eiser's role is more of a mentor for Serena than as someone who also needs to learn.

And last Frederick (gonna hide behind a chair real quick)

Don't come at me for this but to be 100% honest, Frederick was as interesting to me as a white sheet of paper. Most of the time he was just there. That's it. Look the man is mysterious I agree and his character would have been so so interesting but he literally gave me nothing. I swear I'm being unbiased, even if Eiser didn't exist this man would have done nothing to impact me as a reader. But I think that shows how important or how much impact he made to Serena's story.

Frederick is interesting in the fact that we don't know his role in the story. He says he's doing everything to help Serena yet will that make him an antagonist or not is yet to be revealed. Also Frederick isn't even his name??? so there's that. Unlike the first two, he appears too few times and we don't really know what's up with him. So far he has made it his main objective and like basically his personality to protect Serena from his employers.

I liked that it showed he came here with impure intentions and his own goals but ultimately he just made his entire world revolve around keeping Serena safe and that kind of bumped me. The most interesting thing about him so far right now is the mystery of his past (who he killed, what's his true identity) and whether he'll be an antagonist by the end or not.

And now we move to the most dreaded thing. The romance.

I'm gonna say it straight up, Serena x Eiser for the win. Enemies to lovers has gone and done it again and by god did I EAT IT UP!! They were mother and father fr!!

Now let me express my opinions on both couples here with actual words.

First I want to talk about Serena and Frederick. From the beginning this story did not have a love triangle, at least for me. Serena and Frederick always looked like a relationship born out of necessity (which Serena later on confirms that that's what it might have been all along). Serena craved for whatever warmth and protection she could get and Frederick became kind of a safe place for her. She essentially used Frederick as a distraction, a means of relaxation and someone to just vent. She never properly saw him as his own person or equal but as a means of escape from her struggles.

Meanwhile Frederick himself didn't exactly love Serena in a pure way. He loves her yes, but he's also obsessed with her. He feels the need to make her need him so he can stay by her side. He wants to be the only one seeing her weak and vulnerable, caging her and himself in this relationship. And the only way he knows she will be by his side is if she uses him. And the more Serena takes charge of things as head of Serenity and builds herself up, the more Frederick notices that she's slipping away from him so he desperately clings to the mission of protecting her from his employer. He even admits these himself:

Perhaps they did have something beautiful in the beginning but it slowly developed into a relationship that caged them both.

Now sit down because I'm gonna be talking about mommy and daddy (I unironcally call them that no I'm not joking) and this talk is going to be a loooong one *cracks knuckles*

Serena and Eiser were never the picture perfect couple, furthest thing from it and they were not planning on trying to change that anytime soon. They were toxic, they hurt each other and they didn't care about each other. To Eiser, Serena was just the girl he was supposed to marry to save Serenity and to Serena, Eiser was the man that took Serenity and might kill her in the future. None of them saw each other in a good light and none of them bothered to understand the other. Eiser was completely indifferent towards Serena and Serena just wanted to hurt him. Off to a great start because they were already at rock bottom so the only way to go is up!

The way their relationship developed was really natural and well paced. Everyone knows that the beauty of a good enemies to lover is the slowburn AND THE SLOWBURN WAS SLOWBURNING HERE LEMME TELL YOU! They first needed to see each other in a new lighting as equal business partners to go any further into their relationship or start trusting each other. They're both very calculative people and Eiser did see that, has always seen that, so he resulted to manipulating Serena into "competing" with him to give her the chance to properly work in the hotel. And Serena took the bait but never played right into the palm of his hand and always took charge of things her own way.

It was important for them to recognize each other's full capabilities, not just with the veil of "Grayan" or "Spoiled little princess". Most importantly it was essential for Serena to see that Eiser is in fact truly helping her family without any ulterior motives (that are harmful to her family at least) and never had any plans of taking over and eliminating her. And while Eiser was always aware of Serena's abilities and respected her as an individual, he always too disinterested in her to see how fully capable she is. One of the funniest things in my opinion was how Eiser was showering Serena with praises in his head 24/7 yet verbally he would break out in hives before complimenting her. (Istg the communication in this household died back in that carriage with Serena's family)

And that was the biggest wall that blocked them from going further with their relationship, so as soon as that was gone, well would you look at that, they can actually get along just fine and decently! And the romance just came along to them naturally.

Eiser was always drawn to Serena since he first saw her, he was always intrigued by her actions even if that left him puzzled. He always read people for his benefit, but Serena simply caught his eye every time by pure curiosity. He enjoys seeing her expressions and reactions and her journey to rising to her rightful place. Plus, Eiser always felt a kind of kinship with Serena. He saw the loss, betrayal and devastation in her and recognized it as the same as his own. The fight Serena put all these years to try and keep her place and protect what's hers is what he wished he had done all those years back and what someone had done for him when he was at his lowest. It was only after he truly got to know Serena that all these feelings started to subconsciously transform into something else, something even he isn't truly aware of.

Serena surprised me by being the first one to recognize(?), in a way, she had fallen but I'm not complaining, it was beautiful. Serena's main problem with Eiser was that she couldn't trust him, for very obvious reasons, that mans true thoughts are locked in a safe inside a safe inside another safe that happens to be inside a warehouse in Antarctica. I think the most important thing for Serena was to get to realize that Eiser was trying to truly help her family and the hotel. To me there were 3 major moments where Serena's feelings for Eiser changed: When they went to visit President Harol's mansion and he took the peaches and also defended her, when he said he'll build another hotel by the seaside during their date and when he told her he didn't hate her. All these moment helped Serena see that she had made a wrong assumption about Eiser and even though that wasn't enough to dispel all her suspicions towards him, rightfully so because Serena isn't an idiot, it made her trust him a bit more and be more comfortable around him.

Also their backstory, with Eiser being Serena's "prince" was so freaking cute. And the way she always looked for him when she went to those masquerade parties as a way of comfort, sobbing on the floor. If you go back and reread, you'll see that Serena has always been conscious of Eiser from the very start, albeit subconsciously. She always described him touching her like "The spot where he touched burned even after he had let go", or how she was conscious of being dressed "thinly" in front of Eiser but never in front of anyone else, not even Frederick. In my opinion, she had recognised Eiser as the masked prince at the time or knew subconsciously, but because of the animosity between him and her prejudice against him because he was a Grayan, she didn't want to admit it because that would admit that Eiser was anything but a simple marriage and business partner to her.

And now with the release of chapter 72, I am dreading the road in which their relationship is heading and how far back it may devolve. Like I don't blame Eiser because 1) he doesn't know about Serena's trauma 2) he saw red after seeing the way that man was hurting his wife I support the Grayan in him taking over at that moment. But unfortunately for Serena he just proved her greatest fear when it came to him, that he's still very much a Grayan no matter how much he despises them. Her reliving her childhood trauma and seeing Victor in Eiser could revert her to earlier Serena where she was always paranoid and scared of Eiser, but now with proof that he is in fact just as dangerous as she thought him to be. Worse thing is, she can't even go to Fredrick for comfort because she's suspicious of him too so she's truly alone (she has Sui but Sui was there before too and we saw the state in which Serena was in back than). This is a very complicated and simply put shit situation for them, it could possibly be one of their roughest patches in their entire relationship and it's going to take understanding from both Eiser and Serena to get over it and possibly, hopefully, truly trust each other after this. Please Ina-nim please I'm putting my trust in you!! (Ina-nim played us all like a cheep kazoo with chapter 72 like I could not have been more wrong and thank fuck for that! Never have I been so happy to be so incredibly wrong about something! War is over people cheered everyone cried tears of joy!!)

And lastly, thank you for coming to my ted talk, this entire post was just a way for me to vent all the thoughts this webtoon gave me and If you read it, good for you, I love you. As a reward have this collage of chibi mommy and daddy being silly goofy because my chosen career path requires me to have adobe illustrator and I never use it responsibly

[good7luck]

Adding more to my post about Noe in VNC manga latest chapter 61.5

(more under the cut)

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First, thanks to all the people in my previous post! I didn't expect to get more than just a few notes, I feel honored ;w;

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I considered re-writing the entire post at that time, but I think I'll just leave it as it is and make this additional post instead :P

I must say, this - especially the latter part - would be more subjective and controversial, probably? ^^;; maybe even unnecessary. I know it's just my personal imperfect view from my limited experiences for now, in the end.

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In VNC so far (~ch 61.5), the Dham (racism) matter was (almost) brought up a few times:

1)

Noe got to hear about Dham for the first time here. But he couldn't get to learn more and deeper, because the kidnapping incidents were so urgent and dangerous. I suppose, Noe could've asked "Why would the kidnappers let go of you just because you're a dham?"...but it'd be very inappropriate and rude, as if Johann should've gotten kidnapped lol?

A LOT of things happened in this arc, especially in regards to Vanitas, so maybe Noe couldn't think of getting to know more about Dham specifically. (Or, more like, MJ-sensei thought it's not time to go further with Dham yet XD)

2)

This is just a moment, but it shows some glimpse of how tough to live as a dham and how Johann (truly) feels. And...Noe was NOT here, and it's unlikely that Vani bothered to tell him about this.

3)

This is probably the closest one where the word Dham was used like a slur (on thin ice) by Vani. And, again, Noe was NOT here, and honestly there's no way Vani has ever talked about this to him.

4) Not animated (which is a big shame, indeed), but in ch 40, Dante remembers when he got bullied for being a dham and when he first met Vani who hates all races equally. Only Johann was around him, and I'm sure Noe couldn't (properly) hear Dante far away: he was with Vani and JJ to find the Book and save Chloe, who started to completely lose herself and destroy things.

(sorry if I missed some ^^;)

My point is - Noe really didn't have a chance to learn about Dham and the discrimination properly. He even never witnessed one himself. Besides,

the Dhams never looked like they're suffering from Orlok or in his office to Noe.

So, I think it's very understandable that Noe in the latest chapter couldn't even guess that such a horrible and systematic oppression has been happening to the Dhams then and now. It's all news to him, literally. Of course he hasn't noticed it yet that his words and actions aren't being (practically) helpful for the Dhams, much less he's making Dante angry for real.

That's why I feel it's quite unfair to (seriously) blame Noe for his (innocent) ignorance and the (gonna-be-unfortunate) outcome. It'd be rather unrealistic and OP, if Noe manages to immediately comprehend everything "right" and take "right" actions on his own lol

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To be more personal and controversial...

I know it might be merely that some people hate / mock Noe and try to make anything he does (not) a problem / joke "just for fun", but...

Some seem to genuinely believe Dante should kick Noe or such, and idk, I must ask - what did they expect from Noe there, exactly? What do they think Noe had to do in that situation "instead", then? Is there a "good" "solution", even?

It's been only a few weeks (or months) since Noe arrived in Paris, and he's still almost a stranger in regards to the Dham matter. It's even not that he came to study Dham. Noe didn't even jokingly agree with Manet / Nox. It's pretty clear that he simply wanted to do something to make the messy situation better (and sincerely cared about Dhams), even if he didn't understand what's going on in front of him.

Noe is one mere individual, not even officially a powerful, high noble like Domi. Count Orlok is not rude to Noe but still casual to him, while he's much more polite to Domi cuz she's "higher". It's praiseworthy that Domi realized she's also participating in the racism, but somehow it's terrible that Noe consequently called out the racism and tried to help the Dhams? Which let Domi notice her own racism?

I wonder if they wanted Noe to "just shut up and stay still", but tbh..I feel...even if Noe actually didn't do anything there, they would've still easily accused him for doing nothing but "heartlessly" watching the racism (and so siding with the oppressors and so being a racist), with "silence / neutrality = consent / approval !!!", perhaps lol?

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To be very honest - I admit it's still quite hard for me to fully understand why Dante is THAT angry at Noe, even after reading some fandom posts / comments.

Like, I get it, Noe is probably making the situation worse for the Dhams (which is utter tragic), or he sounded too un-serious to him. Dante sure didn't expect to see Vani there, much less suddenly hear some burdensome demand about Machina he hates, the whole Dham "lecture" (why and how they've been discriminated for years), and all the various / explicit insults to him and his family. I sincerely feel so sorry for him and Dhams. I really do.

But like...honestly and strictly speaking...Dante chose to get mad at Noe of all people there, NOT at the obvious oppressors (Manet, Nox, and Count Orlok), even in front of the very oppressors. As if Noe was clearly "worse" than them. This happened basically because Dante thought it's "okay" to throw his anger on Noe, unlike on the real oppressors.

"OMG of course Dante cannot lash out at them, he and Dhams will get only harmed worse by them later!" Yeah, while "nothing bad" will ever happen, even if Dante pours his rage on Noe "instead". Noe is "kind", "not oppressed", and "not socially high enough", so Dante should feel free to use him as a punching bag, "right"? Sorry to be "cruel", but...would Dante have been able to do the same (or unable to hold himself back), if it were not Noe but Luca or Antoine?

I mean, I genuinely cannot fathom why some people try to demonize Noe and "cheer" Dante that much (to "call out" Noe and/or get violent to him, idek), as if Dante is about to perform an act of "justice" towards Noe. Especially when the actual oppressors are right there without feeling any guilty or threatened lol? :/ I'm aware one cannot always rationally think and do perfect, but seriously...it's NOT a good look (for Dante) in any way? Do they "prioritize" seeing Noe get bullied thaaaaat much lmao? ://

It's also "funny" that I've (at least personally) never seen any criticism towards Vani about this. He's the one who forcedly and carelessly brought Machina and Dham stuff in front of the (aggressive) oppressors, even if he understands pretty much everything. He also should've seen what could come, especially when he himself openly gets discriminated by them as well for being a human and the kin of the Blue Moon.

Vani gave Noe all the explanations he needed, sure, but he wasn't polite in general (as always, I know). It also implies Vani never told any of his plans to Noe beforehand again. He blamed Domi for Noe's ignorance, but he didn't provide enough info to him, either lol Vani didn't particularly discriminate Dante or Dhams, but honestly he (and Domi, too) didn't try to stop the racism in the office, either - actively or indirectly, in any form.

I obviously don't mean Vani / Domi is to blame for the racism, much less worse than Count Orlok, Nox, and Manet. I'm glad the fandom rightfully got disappointed in the Orlok trio, calling the bigots out! Still, I don't get why some are overly harsh on Noe and only him lol Did he do THAT wrong and worse? Apparently, maaaaaybe he should've just "quietly" accepted and "wisely" gone with the racism, like Vani / Domi (low-key) did, not "wasting" his energy and kindness only to get hates lmao? ://

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I think Vani should've been more patient and just made a private future appointment with Dante to ask for the Machina matter later, for example. But I guess this might be OOC lol

I feel it would've been great if Domi calmed down the people in the office, using her social status (ex. clapping and calling their attention to return to the subject - which should've been Orlok's job...).

I believe I would've taken it better if Dante simply tried to quickly silence Noe (to not make things worse) and/or talk to him (even get angry at him! though preferably not XP) in private later.

Of course, none of this would've mattered, if only the Orlok trio wasn't racists / the racism didn't exist in the first place...

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Thank you for patiently reading my long and incoherent opinions!! Sorry if I was being too dramatic or such OTL

[monstersinthecosmos]

LOL IM SUPER UPSET AS WELL but also thanks so much. maybe i just internalized all the little clues without realizing (thanks ADHD) but thats the timeline my daydreaming brain has been working with lol and god there's just so much FLAVOR. i really like the play on how keith's grown up but in some ways still an angry kid and shiro's this leader figure yet still so young and even boyish. but funnily enough i was just thinking today if we're gonna see shiro getting topped in ttsr! LOL bb deserves it

IT'S REALLY SUCH A GREAT FLAVOR, RIGHT? And I don't mean that about my own fic LOL I mean about them in canon dshjgkasdj. And I think like, of all the things they fucked up, especially with S8, the one thing that I think stuck the landing SO well was Keith's character arc as he became mature and was able to handle the responsibility of being a leader. It's just a really great ship dynamic that you have like, the smol angry one who's a loose canon x the mature older one who carries a tremendous burden to be in charge but is actually so traumatized and vulnerable. And like, you'd think Keith would need to be rescued more but Shiro is actually sort of a damsel sometimes!!!!!! And Keith is the one saving him! Stubbornly refusing to live in a world without Shiro!

ANYWAY I've had this story pretty carefully plotted & outlined since I started it and I've always tried to keep it close to the chest and I never wanted to reveal too much before it gets dropped into the text (for example, tagging as I go and not mentioning the alien bio stuff until it came up even though I knew the whole time 🥸) BUT ALSO I FEEL TERRIBLE THAT I HAVEN'T UPDATED IT IN ALMOST TWO YEARS!!!!! I'M REALLY SORRY HONESTLY, I'VE NEVER GIVEN UP ON THIS FIC, I JUST GOT SO BOGGED DOWN WITH OTHER PROJECTS AND LIKE THE CHAPTERS TAKE SO MUCH OUT OF ME THAT EVEN WHEN I'M ACTIVELY WORKING ON IT SOMETIMES THE CHAPTERS TAKE MONTHS TO WRITE. CHAPTER 9 TOOK ME LIKE 4 MONTHS TO WRITE LOL. But. Since you've been so patient. If you want a lil spoiler. Beneath the cut.

shiro will be topped in chapter 12 🤧🤧🤧🤧 AS OF NOW, NO PROMISES IN CASE I REARRANGE THE OUTLINE LOL I really spent the last few months telling myself that when I got through my latest mental health crisis that I'd focus deeply on this fic because it brings me so much joy and I really want to like power through and finish it so pray 4 me that 2024 is the year I finish TTSR and that at the current rate, chapter 12 isn't posted in 2027 LMAO 😭😭😭😭

[mechformers]

Not a ask(kinda):

Hiii, love the story “ma miles” and I love the way u write the relationship between spider and his mother it’s so cute😚 anyways I was wondering how would Quaritch react to the learning that the reader was taking care of him while he was unconscious❓

Anyways love the way u write have a lovely evening

(Ps. Im high rn so if it doesn’t make sense that’s why lmao😭)

Thank you so much for your kind words! I just felt that Spider deserved better than what we got. Jake, specifically, disappointed me and the way they did Neytiri with her hatred... That's my girl, alright. I was so conflicted about her and the way she acted toward Spider throughout the entire movie 😔💔 Because let's be honest, it's all because of who his father is. There's been humans around her since she was a kid, she's even mated to one and have children with him. Her hatred stems solely from the fact that Quaritch is Spider's father and nothing else 😤 He's an innocent child who has no part in what has happened before... Ugh, sorry - I rambled away there 🙈🤭😂

Anyway, as for your question! We're actually going to see how that goes down in chapter 17! And let me just clue you in that our beloved little disgruntled angry kitty, is not a happy trooper (read: embarrassed as heck lol) It'll also be revealed what Neytiri did and let me just tell you again how that does not go down well for anyone involved 😇🙏 The next chapter will be from Quaritch's point of view too, so we'll get an extra little look into what's going on inside his head 😁👏

I'm a day "late" for my usual approximate posting schedule and still writing writing away on the chapter, but hopefully, I'll be able to post it some time tonight - at the latest, tomorrow.

I must admit, the 2160p web release has sidetracked my attention, demanding that I watch through atwow in 0.02x speed 😂👌🙈 And oh gosh, let me tell you, there's so much we've missed 👀👀

Again, thank you so much for reading the story and for your kind words! I really appreciate you taking the time to do so, and then to send me an ask as well, SO MUCH!😭🙏❤️❤️

[detshin]

Hi fellow DC veteran! I normally only lurk on Tumblr and have never posted anything, but, I saw that you kept apologizing about complaining about the latest chapter and where the story is at right now (and has been for many years), and thought I should send this. There is absolutely no need to apologize, as I know so many fans feel EXACTLY the same way, and I actually appreciate you putting that perspective out there among all the chaos. I have also spent my whole life following this story, and it breaks my heart to see where it is at right now, and the complete disregard for our amazing main character. I have been a fan of DC for 23 years now, and Shinichi has always been my favourite character, and always will be. I don't care how many other "cool" characters get added to the series, because he will always be number 1 for me. There is no one else like him <3 I don't care about ANYTHING that has to do with Akai, Amuro or all the other stuff/characters they bring along with them. I didn't mind when Akai was more of an actual side character, but now I can't stand how these characters that mean nothing to me are front and centre. Btw, I love your undying love for Shinichi and ShinRan. Your old posts about them make my day and remind me why I am still here after all these years. I am only here because I love them, and honestly, DON'T THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY ALREADY??

So, I was not expecting Kaito Kid to be in chapter 1100 either, though I knew it would be something disappointing. I don't care that Amuro is there and that actually makes things worse for me. Also, and correct me if I'm wrong, I thought after we had the Mystery Train, Gosho said that he wouldn't involve Kid in the main plot anymore. I don't remember where I saw this, it was years ago.

It makes me sad when I go though old chapters and see the difference. I can't even get myself to read one full new chapter now. Anyway, I am so sorry about the long message and not really having a question. I just wanted you to know that it is comforting to still have fans who have been here so long, and feel exactly the same way. I cannot express how much I love your blog and your passion for Shinichi and ShinRan! Thank you for putting your thoughts out there.

Hi there! ✨ First things first, thank you soooo much for the kind message. This was lovely to read and it actually made me feel better lmao

I know that I shouldn't keep apologizing for complaining as you say, but you know... There's always people out there who could read what I say and get mad at me or something because of it, so I like to kind of get it out there that I don't like the fact that I myself am being so negative about this manga that I supposedly love so much.

Because I do! I love this manga, it has brought me so much joy and even if I move on to other things (which I am) I can't help but come back and have it in the back of my mind at all times. And that's what kinda makes it worse for me I guess? That's what makes me even more angry and feel like I need to say something.

I've talked about this with other people too. Like @letitrainasunnyday, who has the patience of basically hearing me complain every time a new file comes out. It makes me feel better that there's other people out there who also feel the same way than I do about the show, and who aren't being charmed by the spin offs and the senseless fanservice and plotless storylines. Don't get me wrong, if you enjoy the content we're getting recently then good for you. Great! But I feel like the ones who have always been here and are used to another type of content, the original type of story... All feel a little weird about it now. I just feel like I only come here to complain because the main characters don't feel like the main characters anymore, because the animation style of the anime is so awkward and weird looking, because the story doesn't progress at all, because they focus on things that I don't care about... It's a lot right?

And so some might say: hey! So why don't you stop watching? Just quit reading the manga!

And my answer is: for the most part I have. Like I have said plenty of times before... I don't remember the last manga file I've read completely. Now I only see what it is about on the spoilers we get and give up because I just- don't want to read. I am only in search for things that I'm interested in (the main plot, the main characters, period). Still, I mostly am just enjoying the fanon content (even if a small amount is of my taste now) and waiting for... Something. I don't know. But the point is that I can't give up the manga completely lmao I have invested too much time of my life to give it up (at least for now, we'll see in the future) and to not see where my favorite characters go from now on and what happens to them. I need to see what's of Shinichi. Of Ran. Everyone, you know?

So am I ever going to read the spin offs? No. Am I ever going to go to the cinema and pay money to watch one of the movies? Absolutely not.

But!

That won't stop me from complaining and memeing about it! I guess it's how I deal with it hahaha Sorry but it is what it is 🤷‍♀️

Anyway I don't even know where I was going with this but thanks a lot for the message again. Keep on supporting our main guy and let's hope for something good and interesting soon, yeah?

[jimmymcgools]

any directors commentary for this most recent chapter? (or any of the others you havent gone in depth on, like if there's a part you just really wanna talk about!)

ahh thank you anon! i'm sorry i ignored this for days but i couldn't decide what i wanted to do commentary on -- i got spooked trying to pick a chunk of the latest chapter (cannot believe i wrote an 8k word conversation whoops) and so i think i'll talk about the red cloud flashback at the start of chapter 11! <3

me: picks up east of eden to finally read it me: screw reading, i need to write a red cloud flashback IMMEDIATELY

this was an odd chapter. sometimes (like with the flying star convo) i have an idea that i know is weighty enough to support an entire chapter. but sometimes i feel like i have a gap. like... ok, i know i have that skyler&marie&blanca convo coming, but i also know i want that to happen NEXT chapter, so now i need to fill this space.

and it ended up as this odd little thematic musings type chapter. but i like how it turned out! it felt important to spend a little bit of time thinking about what 'home' might mean to kim wexler (especially if, yknow, a real home is something we want her to end up finding by the end of this fic, right?)

Kim doesn’t look at the houses. Not the one on the corner with the white rocking chair on the white porch.

i have a (maybe silly) thing where i don't like putting dates/etc as headers above flashbacks. it feels fitting for a show that never puts them on the screen! and i love the challenge of trying to include that information in other ways.

But the houses want her to look at them. The letterboxes wave to her with flags and the letterboxes have people’s names on them.

shoutout to the NEW 2022 STREETVIEW IMAGERY OF RED CLOUD NEBRASKA (sadly still only 2 major streets but) that gave me this entire houses-as-people idea because i saw the names on the letterboxes.

She learned in school that a long time ago this whole town was underwater.

me googling this and frantically hoping it was true! this, specifically, is what that second page of east of eden inspired with the description of the salinas valley once being an inlet from the coast and before that a forest: "And it seemed to me sometimes at night that I could feel both the sea and the redwood forest before it."

and god the idea of feeling the sea beneath you at night felt SO screamingly kim wexler to me.

He nestles the hat on her head. It smells like horses and cigarettes and old, old things. “A proper cowboy hat.”

i am passionate about cowboy girl horse girl kim wexler

also--ahhhhh finally braving the idea of meeting kim's dad! now that rhea's talked about her ideas for him i wanted to see if i could balance that with stuff i'd folded in

i'm not particularly in love with the "jimmy is just her dad all over again" take as a full explanation of him (imo, kinda boring!) but i did want to thread a bit of that in. hopefully in a less 1:1 way and just like... there are things that made kim feel warm and comfortable and loved as a kid. and when she later finds some of those qualities in jimmy, they bring similar feelings. her dad remembers the names of these teachers and classmates of hers even though (in my mind) it has been quite a long time since he was last here.

but i always had the idea that kim got her silence and her stillness from her dad, so that's in here, too.

from safs:

All of this, and he was the only still thing. He just sat there and the TV flickered and it seemed like nothing could touch him, like nothing could ever touch him ... And I guess nothing really did.

and then similarly in safs i had this idea of like... kim positioning herself as the angry one in her childhood. i felt like it was more interesting to show this comparatively happy scene and just try to sow it with some kind of edge/disquiet and the seeds that might lead to that anger.

Kim watches him and he watches the movie, and he’s not moving at all anymore. His face is still and calm and she doesn’t know what’s behind it.

kim possessing that same stillness in the drive-in movie chapter of acb: He just watches her, and she watches the film—so still.

also my god i had remembered that sentence from acb but not THIS one right before it: "The blue-white light of the prison dormitory shadows her face, and her eyes glimmer, and he doesn’t look away, and Kim doesn’t look to him." wow ok

She knows she might never see him again.

i feel like the heartbreaking thing is like.... eventually kim is right about this. maybe it's this time. but i think she's almost thought it any time she's seen him that she's old enough to remember. like :( honey

[ellegamgee]

First Sentence Tag Game

"Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway."

Thank you to my wonderful friend @maxwellshimbo for tagging me in this. Finally getting around to it. 😅

Well, lookee there. I have 11 fics on AO3. I'm just going to skip over the poem/song and post the first line of each of the others. They're split between just two fandoms, Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel and Inn Between podcast. (Disclaimer: on the slight chance this crosses Hannah's feed: Hannah, please don't read, sorry.)

Not sure what is usually done about multi chapter fics, but I'll take from chapter one of each of those.

Going from earliest to latest, from when the fic was posted (when chapter one was posted for the multi chapter ones).

1: Balancing the Scales (SC)-

"The first indication that Arum had that things were not quite right was that Damien’s voice was not the first one he heard through the portal into the Keep. It was rare that either of his two humans brought anyone with them, for obvious reasons. So, the sound of another voice, though far off, already made Arum stiffen and hiss."

2: Habits in Love (SC)-

"If someone were to ask her, Rilla might brush off any inquiries about her temper. When pressed, however, Rilla would probably admit that she was prone to bouts of angry ranting and yelling, taking out her feelings on those around her. Few, though, could get Rilla to say so. Indeed, it was mostly narrowed down to her two loves, with perhaps a handful of others at most, since these were the people who saw Rilla when these moods took her, and did their best to help her through them."

3: The Wizard (IB)-

"Previously, on Inn Between:

¨The Wizard Orune has been terrorizing our land long enough! Adventurers, heroes, I beg of you to save us!¨

¨What do you know about this wizard, Meltyre?¨

¨So, Velune, er. . . According to what I've heard, his specialty is. . . messing with the mind. Mind-reading, so he always knows what you´re about to do, that sort of thing. He is really full of himself, but it makes sense, because he's also really, really powerful.¨

¨Not as powerful as you. Right, magic man?”

¨Well . . . . ¨"

4: The Comfort (IB)-

Previously, on Inn Between:

“Are you sure there is no other way through, around, whatever? Any other way?

“Do you think I would ask this of them if there was any other way, Fina? We have a small army of giants at our back and the only way that I can find is through here.”

“Velune, we. . . we can help, we will help as much as possible. Do you think. . . Do you think you can. . . .?

“Oh, I. . .I. . . With you all with me, I. . . I can. . . I will. . . try.”

5: His Humans, Their Monster (SC)-

"The Keep was silent and still, and this frightened Arum.

This was definitely not the I’m-not-talking-to-you-until-you-apologize, Arum lack of communication of any sort that Arum had experienced from the Keep a handful of times. (Not since he was a hatchling, mind you, no matter what his humans said.) It was not even the I’m-sick-and-napping, please-let-me-rest quiet Arum had dealt with a few months prior. This was eerily silent, conspicuously still, and had happened too suddenly to be anything but something very wrong."

6: The Faith (IB)-

"Previously, on Inn Between:

“What? What are you- How did you get in here? Wait, I remember you, you’re-”

“All in good time, wizard. Now, good night.”

“No, what- Guards, somebody! Oh-”

“Right then.”

“What’s this? A note?”

“Lord Sterling Whitetower, I have. . . Meltyre, your friend and Court Wizard to the Throne. . . .”

“Oh, gods. . . oh, gods, no.”

“If you wish to see him. . . alive. . . again, meet me at the location shown here. Tell no one. . . and come alone. If you do not, he dies.”

“Cuthbert, help me.”"

7: The Poet's Dilema (SC)-

"One of the things Damien enjoyed most about his loves- and ah, the plurality of that statement, so new, so strange, so exciting- was when they could spend time together, doing nothing much of import, but simply being together. True, there were countless other things- so many that even a poet such as himself would be hard-pressed for the time or words to express them all. But to Damien, this was high on the list, these small moments that he could count on, that he could treasure, that he could practically write an epic in itself about afterward."

8: A Gift of a Ring (But Not Like That) (IB)-

"Meltyre wasn’t sure when the idea grew, from a wistful hope in the back of his mind to an actual plan. The vague thought that later became the idea, that crossed his mind soon, very soon after Sterling first shared his secret. But when he first resolved to do something about it . . . ."

9: Within These Rooms (IB)-

"It was Sterling’s turn to fetch drinks that night at the inn. When he came back to their usual table with their usual fare, he also came with a strange look on his face, brow furrowed and eyes lost in thought."

10: The Proposal (IB)-

"Previously, on Inn Between:

“MeltyredoyouandSterlinglikeeachother?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I do not plan to marry Sterling anytime soon.”

“Aww.”

“You just want to be a flower girl.”

“Yeah.”

“So you aren’t married?”

“We are not.”

“Good, cuz I want to be flower girl.”

“She would never forgive you if you didn’t let her be flower girl.”

“Another May day come and gone.”

“This time, with only the on-purpose explosions.”

“I am glad of that. And glad to be with you, Meltyre.”

“Oh. . . Oh! You, too, Sterling. Love you, too.”"

Even though I am pretty sure I know a bunch of writers on tumblr, I have a hard time remembering names and who is who and whatnot. 😳 So I'm just going to tag this a bit, and also share this in the relevant discards. 😁 Aka the discards for Penumbra: SC and for Inn Between. Anyone else who wants to do this, have fun! 😁

[khaleesiofalicante]

Okay something stuck with me in the previous IALS chapter and I just wanted to share it. I may be wrong, but what David said, about not being selfish and considering other people's feeling even when he should be focusing on his own is something that really helps understand him a little better as a character. That and the fact that Max was the first person in his life that made him feel safe. Because every other David has met the Herondales first, so he already has a family and yes Max is his everything but he is not the only thing in his life and it just really hurts to think that he now believes he has no one(he ofcourse has Jackson and the boys but what Max and the Herondales offered him was like something to hold on to when everything was going wrong or he felt heartbroken and he doesn't have either now). So he just needed to write that book and then the show( I still can't understand why, especially the show and Jaden part) and he refused to push his needs back for anyone, because for the first time in his life he needs to become selfish in order to survive. I still think that the Jaden-show thing is fucked up and he should have found a healthier way to cope with everything and do the one thing he thought he never could-survive without Max. Because being that dependent in anyone(even the love of your life) that you want to take away their dream instead of being without them for 3 months, its not healthy ( like the fact that Alec thought he needed Magnus to survive but them realised that he was actually his choice). But being selfish and doing what he thought was right for him and putting himself back is a huge step for him and I'm glad David is doing it( even though it feels like a step in the wrong direction but hey! That's what therapy is for).

Ps: Reading that latest IALS chapter broke my heart, Max deserves so much more,and the way those two love each other is truly something out of a fairytale and its weird but also very understandable that they love each other so much but sometimes they get so angry that they seem to forget that( mostly Max because we dont get to see a lot of David's feeling after the divorce- which really concerns me what have you planned you evil genius??). Max waking up every morning just to see David smile>>>> I want someone to love me that much

Sorry for the rant, but it's actually your fault for being such a good writer, I wish I had to write essays about your work in university and not about some crazy scientist😂

IALS Mavid song reck to make up for it:

Fairytale gone bad ( Sunrise Avenue)

This is just SO good?

y'all are killing it with this analysis stuff, ya absolute nerds, i love yall.

But you are spot on about David's support system. He barely has one in IALS. We see this in his guilt every time he feels he is 'bothering' someone even when he is 'asking for help'.

We haven't seen a lot about David's past. Every flashback scene is just about Max and David. Not about David alone. And a lot of his past (in France) affects the way he feels about Max (and himself). More into this later!

But I loved this analysis so so much. Especially about David's dependency on Max.

And yes I feel bad for Max too 🥺

And I LOVE YOUR RANTS OKAY?

[corpupine]

Hiya! Welcome back! How was ur trip? Also, the latest pages, OMG. I knew from the last pages that Sans was not going to be happy that Nema wasn't actually a dream, and was still there, but like, teleporting in front of her to snatch the picture from her, & saying human in such a cold-sounding (reading?) way, damn. +, my God, is Sans giving me mood whiplash this update. Going from pissed & frowny w/ Nema to actually happy with Paps (& trying to get him to leave) to a fake smile to Nema. Wow.

I was just clearing out my inbox and I realized I never responded to this :P so sorry you've been waiting on an answer for so long!!

The trip was awesome! It was over the top of my birthday, so it felt really special to spend that time with my family! We went and visited these beautiful gardens in British Columbia (look up the Butchart Gardens--seriously sooo stunning!)

And yeah, those pages of Chapter Four are a good illustration of what happens to Sans when he doesn't sleep well, is overwhelmed with new things, and is struggling with depression! I headcanon him as the type of person to switch between apathetic depression and angry depression. But that's just me! I'm glad you liked the expressions on that update! They were very fun for me to do, haha.

[thera-daydreams]

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴏʟᴅ ʟᴀᴅʏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ

ᗢ jujutsu kaisen x scarletwitch!reader ᗢ

13. madness

Chapter Index & Synopsis

warning: will contain spoilers from the jjk manga and the latest mcu movies/comics/shows (particularly wandavision, loki, spiderman: nwh, as well as content from doctor strange in the multiverse of madness). once again, this will contain heavy spoilers—you have been warned. angst, cussing, cursing, murder, disturbing themes, & swear words will be here, too. trigger warning as well for wanda's depression and suicidal behavior. so... hi, all! it's been what, 6 months? before i say anything more, here's an ultra-mega-super-duper-long-almost-25k-words chapter—practically a whole story in itself—to make up for my long absence and silence here on tumblr. this was weeeeeks in the making and i'm brain fried as i publish this. honestly, i may never edit or beta this because of how ridiculously long it is, lol. anyways, enjoy! 🥰

(word count: 24,958)

(previous chapter)

The rumbling and shaking continued in the darkness the eight jujutsu sorcerers were in, throwing them off balance. Before they knew it, the darkness ripped open into a... well, it looked like they were somewhere in outer space? But there were pillars and pieces of debris floating around, some objects defying the laws of gravity.

Suddenly, a roar resounded from behind them. Their heads snapped to the direction of the sound, where they found... a ribbon-like monster chasing a young girl wearing a denim jacket and... Dr. Strange in a ponytail?

Just like before, when they were watching and then got sucked into the TV (particularly into the last two episodes of WandaVision), everything felt real. Like a 3D—no, a 4D film. Maybe 6D, even. Yet it was only a glimpse into the past, thus they were still physically unaffected by the events despite them being able to feel and experience it realistically with their five senses.

It was different from the holograms they watched with Loki and Dr. Strange with Spiderman—other pivotal events of your universe that didn't include you.

"Strange looks... strange... doesn't he?" Geto blinked, confused as the duo got closer to their point of view. The Ribboned Creature was destroying everything in its path as it attempted to attack weird-looking Strange and the girl with him. The two individuals being chased went through them like they were ghosts, and so did the angry Ribboned Creature.

"And who's the new kid?" Toji raised one fine, curious eyebrow. The others shrugged.

"Dunno, Toji-san," Yuuji replied. "But that ribbon monster seems to want to get her."

"We should probably follow them," Nanami logically suggested as the Ribboned Creature, Strange-with-a-ponytail, and New Girl got farther away in the distance.

The other seven males nodded, running after the monster and the duo it was chasing (albeit, with some difficulty due to the lack of gravity, the floating debris, and the mess of space-time in the Gap Junction). They jumped and ran, momentarily stopping when Ponytail Strange and New Girl stopped.

"Hey, are they speaking Spanish?" Yuuji asked out loud, overhearing the conversation between them. Choso, beside him, had question marks all over his head.

"... What is... Spanish...?" the cursed spirit thought to himself quietly.

"Uh-huh," Megumi muttered to Yuuji, looking back-and-forth warily between the relentless Ribboned Creature and its victims.

"Well, anyone of you know what they're talking about!?" Toji huffed out, crossing his arms. "'Cause I don't."

"Hehe. Sorry. The only Spanish I know are pick-up lines for the ladies!" Gojo nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head. Geto mimicked the exact same action with a guilty look and a grin.

"... Yeaaaaaah, uhhhh, I didn't really listen during second-year Spanish class with Yaga either. Oops," the long-haired male admitted.

Megumi and Yuuji sighed loudly at that. Best friends, indeed. Gojo and Geto were probably slacking off together that time in their highschool days.

Eventually, all heads turned towards the only reliable person in the room (... or space, since they weren't exactly in a room).

A vein popped on Nanami's temple as all eyes slowly turned to him hopefully (Gojo's and Yuuji's eyes were practically sparkling). The blonde exhaled loudly in exasperation as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "You expect me to know Spanish?"

"We knooooow you do, Nanaaaamin," Gojo stated in a sing-song voice.

Another vein popped up on the blonde's temple. "Stop calling me that."

"You know, you were the only one who got perfect marks under Yaga's Spanish class when you were in second year," Geto chuckled, feeling nostalgic for a second. "You were a damn miracle. That man couldn't teach Spanish for his life."

Relenting, he sighed, "... Fine. I'll translate."

Ah, Nanami Kento. Always so reliable and competent. "Thank you, Nanamin!" Yuuji danced around beside him.

Boom!

They watched (while simultaneously continuing to run and follow the duo) as Ponytail Strange's powers glowed an icy blue as he fired shots at the Ribboned Creature.

"Weren't his powers, like, orange...? Or am I colorblind now?" Gojo yelled, beginning to doubt his Six Eyes after everything he's seen about your Multiverse.

"This guy must be like those other versions of Spiderman. Like that Sivan—Syra—the hell was her name again... the other self that Loki smooched..." Toji muttered to himself.

"Sylvie. The blonde female variant of that Loki guy," Megumi finished for him. "You're getting old with all those memory lapses, old man." Toji rolled his eyes at his son, pinching the boy's ear as they ran.

"So this Ponytail Strange is a variant of the Dr. Strange we've seen before?" Yuuji tilted his head in question.

"Probably," Geto and Gojo chorused.

"What are they saying now?" Choso curiously asked as Ponytail Strange and New Girl conversed in rapid-fire Spanish. Ponytail Strange pointed at something far ahead.

"He's saying that it's that book that will kill the monster," Kento translated from Spanish to Japanese for the other men. Multilingual King.

"Book?" the others questioned.

"The Book of Vishanti!" New Girl shouted, as if answering the spectators watching them, when she recognized the mystical item from afar.

"Jump!" Ponytail Strange shouted as they encountered a gap in the floating concrete. With that, the eight jujutsu sorcerers also jumped high, too, roughly landing on the sloped piece of floating concrete. "Hold on!" Ponytail Strange told his female companion.

"Shit, this feels like a fight but we're not technically a part of it?" Geto muttered to himself as he slid and landed on solid ground. Ponytail Strange and New Girl did the same, too. Unfortunately, seconds after, the Ribboned Creature caught up to them, roaring in anger as it pierced the new Strange's thigh with its sharpened ribbons. Ponytail Strange was able to encapsulate it and restrict it with some concrete and magic, yet only for mere moments as his injury spread further through his leg.

"Sheesh. That looks nasty," Gojo cringed, taking a glimpse of the Sorcerer Supreme's wound.

"Real nasty," Yuuji followed with a disgusted face. "Must hurt a lot. Poor guy."

Megumi's eyes were stuck to the Ribboned Creature. "It's gonna get out," he mumbled, a foreboding feeling running through his veins. "They can't win this, can they?"

"... Unlikely," Nanami answered back, not very optimistic. Just as he said that, Ponytail Strange yelped out. His wound was getting infected by dark magic.

"It's too strong! I can't hold it!" Strange yelled, shaking as he attempted to keep the monster in the magical circular cage he made. All of them gazed in horror as the monster began breaking its way out.

As he came to this realization, Sorcerer Supreme Strange slowly turned to the new girl—whose name was America Chavez. The gazes of the eight jujutsu sorcerers watching them skimmed over to America, too.

"What's this dude planning?" Toji raised a brow.

"... I don't think it's gonna be anything good," Choso's lips pursed. Indeed, the Cursed Spirit was right.

"I'm so sorry," Sorcerer Supreme Strange began, hesitant. "But this is the only way." With that, the man began extracting the young girl's power for himself. The jujutsu sorcerers were surprised.

"Oh no, why... why would he..." Yuuji felt sympathetic for the girl. She looked to be just around his age. Maybe even younger. Megumi felt the same, too.

"Wh—What are you doing!?" America shrieked as she was lifted up into the air. Slowly, her powers were siphoned out of her.

"I can't let that thing take your power. You can't control it," Stephen told her, trembling as he took the girl's abilities while simultaneously holding the monster back. "But I can."

"But we're friends!" America cried out. "You're killing me!"

"I know." Stephen shut his eyes tight. "But in the grand calculus of the Multiverse, your sacrifice is worth more than your—"

Stab!

One of the creature's ribbons went through Ponytail Strange's heart.

"Damn," Toji commented, arms crossed. "I guess he kind of deserves that, though?"

Ponytail Strange fell to the ground, almosr lifeless. America, now free, set her eyes on the Book of Vishanti. She quickly ran towards it, hopping over multiple pieces of floating debris to get to her destination. Behind her, the jujutsu sorcerers followed. Right before she could obtain it, however, the Ribboned Creature got a hold of her four limbs. The jujutsu sorcerers stopped in their tracks.

"Crap," Yuuji's eyes looked frantically around them. "Is there really nothing we can do to help her!?" Beside him, Megumi was thinking the same, but didn't let his nervousness surface visibly to his face.

Nanami shook his head, "... Unfortunately, no. Like everything we've witnessed, this is the past, remember?"

"It's already happened and we can do nothing to stop it," Geto added. Before he could say anything else, the creature roared, scaring America. Out of instinct, her powers activated. Eyes glowing bright blue, a star-shaped portal appeared around her, acting like a vaccuum—sucking everything around them into it. With his dying breath and remaining magic, Ponytail Strange sent out four spinning blasts to cut away America's restrictions. America (and the monster) were thrown into the portal. Ponytail Strange was sucked into it, too.

And as much as they hated it and tried to avoid it, the jujutsu sorcerers watching were thrown into the portal as well—spinning and spinning as they fell.

"Oh shiiiiiiii—" Gojo shouted, voice echoing through the portal.

Before they knew it, they all awoke on the floor of... a bedroom in the New York Sanctum? And they were in a pile on the ground, too (with Toji, unfortunately, on the very bottom with Gojo being on the top, squishing everyone else in-between).

A tick mark appeared on Toji's jaw at the weight on his back, "Get. Off. Now." The men scrambled to their feet. Then they heard wheezing and huffing from the bed in the room. Their eyes widened.

"Whoa. That's the Strange we know... right?" Megumi pointed out. His eye then twitched as he turned away. "He sleeps naked?"

"Who doesn't?" Gojo, Geto, and Toji chorused.

"... I did not need those images in my head," Nanami rubbed his temples, disgusted at the visuals involuntarily implanted into his brain.

"Perhaps he just does not sleep with a shirt on," Choso offered, head tilted. "But were we... watching his dream?"

"Uh-huh, looks like it," Yuuji deduced. He then whistled. "You know, I never realized Dr. Strange was that fit and built." The pink-haired boy glanced at his teacher. "He could give you a run for your money with those biceps, Gojo-sensei."

The Strongest looked offended. "I look much better than this guy, excuse you!"

"Heh. Dunno, Satoru. With those grey streaks in his hair and that awesome beard? Kinda gives me silver fox vibes," Suguru teased his best friend.

"Have you seen my hair!? It's all practically white—" Gojo protested, running his hands through his hair wildly. "I am the epitome of a silver fox!"

"Nah, without a good beard, you're not," Toji scoffed in the corner. Suddenly, a mouth popped out on Yuuji's cheek as they all watched Strange grab his broken watch and get dressed for a wedding.

"Where the hell is Granny." It was a statement, not a question from the King of Curses.

"Dunno. We haven't really seen mom since... that scene of her in her isolated cabin in the woods..." Yuuji frowned. "I wonder how she's doing here in her past. And in the real world. I've almost forgotten what she was doing since we last saw her in our world."

"Getting groceries," his older brother reminded him.

"In the middle of an incoming snowstorm," Kento sighed out heavily.

It was silent as they waited for Strange do to whatever he needed to do. The Master of the Mystic Arts walked for a few blocks, constantly fidgeting with his cufflinks. It was only when they were inside the chapel, familiar names scrawled on a fancy calligraphy canvas outside the large wooden doors of the entrance, that they realized what exactly Strange was there for.

"Oh my god, is he attending his ex-girlfriend's wedding!?" Gojo exclaimed dramatically.

"Well, this ought to be a sight," the Zenin clan deserter snorted. "What was that woman's name again?"

"Christine...?" Megumi answered his dad, unsure. "Forgot her last name though."

"Oof, this is gonna be awkward," Geto cringed beside his best friend. "Brilliant neurosurgeon and awesome superhero but doesn't get a love life."

"He did have to make sacrifices for his... lifestyle," Nanami quietly commented. Of course, as a jujutsu sorcerer, he could relate. At the blonde's remark, everyone else—at least, the adults of the group—sobered. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was not forgiving. Time would be spent either fighting, recovering, teaching, exorcising, and the like. Romance? You were lucky if you had a partner that knew, believed, and accepted the life of having a jujutsu sorcerer as their lover. You were even luckier if you were able to sustain a long-term relationship, get married, have kids, and grow old.

Normally, that was not in the books of being a jujutsu sorcerer. Death rates and chances of injury were always high. It was always a gamble as you could die at any moment.

They watched the entire wedding silently.

ᗢ▪︎ᗢ

"Look. Truly, I'm just glad that you're happy," Stephen finished, congratulating Christine on her wedding day.

"I am. I really, really am," Christine brightly smiled at him, looking angelic in her simple yet classic, white wedding dress.

"Good," Stepehen nodded, doing his best to hold back his own tears. Right person, wrong time, indeed. Perhaps in another life... in another universe, it would have worked out between them.

"Are you?" Christine asked.

"I'm happy."

"Good. You deserve it."

With that, Christine left Stephen to his own devices.

"... What a load of bullshit." It was Toji who spoke and it was the first time any of them spoke since the wedding proper an hour earlier. His arms were, again, folded against his chest.

"Tell me about it," Geto snorted. "Clearly, he is not happy."

"He's heartbroken as hell. Anyone can see that," Gojo snickered.

Before more jabs at the ex-neurosurgeon could be made, screams and crashes were suddenly heard from outside the building they were in. Strange, plus the jujutsu sorcerers, ran out to the open balcony on... whatever floor they were... to see cars and street poles being thrown everywhere by... whatever invisible threat there was.

"Finally, some action," Sukuna popped up on Yuuji's cheek once more as Strange flew down. The rest of them jumped down the building, too. Thankfully, despite not having their cursed energy, they landed without a hitch.

"Yo... isn't that the girl from Strange's dream earlier?" Yuuji pointed out as Strange used a spell to make the invisible monster... well, visible.

"It was invisible to the naked eye...?" Choso thought out loud. "A cursed spirit?"

"Perhaps," Nanami observed. It was a huge, slimy, tentacled monster bigger than any cursed spirit he's ever encountered, though (well, maybe except for that one giant cursed spirit Aoi Todo fought during the Night Parade of Demons). It had one big eye, too, scanning its surroundings for its target. The girl.

America Chavez.

Strange—and Wong, later on—finished off the monster by stabbing out its single, huge eyeball from on top of one of New York's buildings.

"Giant monsters, I can clearly handle," Strange stared at Chavez closely. "But what bothers me is that last night, you were in my dream."

"That... wasn't a dream," America explained. "It was another universe."

The eight jujutsu sorcerers spectating stilled at her answer. They followed Wong, Strange, and America into a nearby pizza place, wanting to hear more of this girl's explanation.

Stephen huffed, tired of all the questions being directed to him and the lack of answers he was getting. "Now why was that octopus trying to eat you?"

"That thing was trying to kidnap me," America cut in. At their questioning looks, she let out a deep exhale. "It's like a henchman who works for a demon. All we knew is that they wanted to take my power for themselves."

"What power?" Strange's brows furrowed.

America paused, "I can... travel the Multiverse."

"Prove it," Strange challenged.

"That's neat," Geto nodded to himself. All of a sudden, the scene shifted to all of them being on a rooftop. America, Wong, and Strange knelt down, with America uncovering a dead body.

Strange's dead body. Or at least, the variant of him who was Sorcerer Supreme and had a ponytail. The one who died before their very eyes.

"It wasn't a dream," Wong breathed out in shock at seeing the decaying corpse. "That means..."

"Dreams are windows into the lives of our multiversal selves," Strange concluded, wide-eyed.

"Holy shit," Gojo blinked at the declaration. "Does that... apply to our universe, too?"

"... Maybe. Probably?" Geto's eyes were wide, as well. "But that's... it's outrageous. Crazy."

"That was his theory," America gestured to the dead Ponytail Strange.

"So that recurring nightmare where I'm running naked from a clown..." Wong trailed off.

America shrugged, "Somewhere out there, it's real."

"That's sick," Yuuji gaped, both awed and terrified. "I had a dream I got married to Jennifer Lawrence on a beach a few years ago. Megan Thee Stallion was the Maid of Honor! That's true in another universe?" He ran a hand down his face. "Man, that me is living the life, sheesh!"

The rest of them were speechless.

"There could be more creatures coming after her," Wong whispered to Strange.

"The power is dangerous enough in the hands of a kid," Strange replied in a hushed tone. "Imagine if a real threat acquired it."

At their words, the young girl with them became nervous, beginning to back away. Noticing this, Wong assured her. "It occurs to me, young one, that we don't know your name."

"... America Chavez," she answered reluctantly.

"Miss Chavez, will you come with us to Kamar-Taj? You'll be safe there," Wong formally offered as the reigning Sorcerer Supreme.

The jujutsu sorcerers watched as Strange buried the dead Strange with a ponytail... under a bunch of rocks and bricks on the rooftop apartment.

"Won't that, like, smell?" Megumi's face was contorted in disgust.

"Or attract some cursed spirits or something...?" Yuuji scratched his head. "But then again, they don't have cursed spirits in their world..."

"They have terrifying monsters which could be considered as curses, though," Toji remarked. "A ribboned monster? An octopus with one giant eyeball? Hm."

"The creature that killed him," Wong asked, referring to Strange's alternate self. "Did it have the same markings as the octopus?"

"Runes," Stephen stated. At the familiar term, the jujutsu sorcerers' ears perked up.

"Like what Mom and Agatha used?" Yuuji clarified to the other older men, who all nodded.

At Strange's reply, Wong exhaled. "This isn't sorcery."

Stephen's eyes widened slightly in realization. "It's witchcraft."

"Do we know anyone who's faced such a thing?" Wong inquired to his friend.

Stephen paused. One familiar person came to his mind. One he'd fought alongside long ago in the battle against Thanos along with other notable superheroes. "... I think I might."

The jujutsu sorcerers stilled. It was so very faint, but they swore they heard a chime mimicking the theme song of WandaVision in their minds.

Right as Strange finished saying his sentence, they felt the scene before them shift. Suddenly, they saw a familiar-looking woman whose back was turned to them. She was softly humming a song, mixing up ingredients in the metal bowl with a large, wooden spoon.

"Mom...?" Yuuji gasped out first.

You turned around with a smile as you grabbed some baking soda from a nearby cabinet, but did not hear them. You were dressed in a simple outfit—a plain, long-sleeved white top, some faded jeans, and a navy blue cardigan with some flour smudges here and there.

"Y/N..." the older jujutsu sorcerers (ahem, Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji, and Choso) breathed out, as if in relief at finally seeing you once more.

"Finally!" Sukuna exclaimed loudly, making Yuuji wince at the volume of his voice. "It's been too damn long!"

You looked you, but...

"She looks a bit different, don't ya think?" Gojo tilted his head, rubbing his chin as he tried to pinpoint what exactly was different.

"Maybe it's the hair color?" Geto pointed out.

"... Happier." It was Nanami who spoke out loud. All eyes glanced at the ex-salaryman. "She's happier. You can see it in her eyes."

They, again, grew silent as they watched you smoothly glide around the kitchen with experienced movements—similar to how you would in their world. In the bakery-café you owned.

"You're right," Toji hmphed. "I wonder why."

They got their answer in the form of two young boys running into the kitchen and dipping their hands in the chocolate mixture you were stirring.

"Chocolate!" Billy yelled happily.

"Hey! What did I say?" you teasingly scolded.

Tommy pouted, "But we couldn't wait."

You raised a playful brow at your children, "Buuuut, what did I say?" At your reply, your twins rebelliously ate the chocolate mix that they managed to sneak on their fingers. Your eyes widened as you laughed, "Oh?" With a loving pinch of their naughty faces, you ushered your kids to the sink. "Go wash your hands!"

"Aren't those two... dead?" Choso asked out loud, referring to Billy and Tommy.

"Supposedly," Nanami answered him. He looked around closely. "And supposedly, this place is gone. Vision Residence disappeared when the Hex disappeared."

They all blinked.

"You're right, Nanamin!" Yuuji blinked. "Whoa, you're so observant!"

"It's part of my job. And my Cursed Technique," Nanami bluntly replied, adjusting his glasses (just like any cool and badass anime character).

"But he's right... this is the Vision Residence... exactly like it, except for a few extra knick-knacks here and there," Geto murmured, touching the kitchen counter.

The scene before them slowly changed to night time, with the twins dressed in their pajamas and getting into bed. It was an extremely familiar scene, making them feel déjà vu as they watched it.

"A family is forever," you spoke to Billy and Tommy gently. "We could never truly leave each other even if we tried." You stroked their heads.

"Hasn't this happened already?" Yuuji scratched his head in confusion, hearing the dialogue and your conversation with your kids. "Like, in WandaVision? I feel like I've watched this already in the finale."

"Hm," Gojo hummed, his head tilted as he watched you tuck the boys in snugly. "Except that Y/N's in her single mom era here. For some reason."

"Where the hell is that robot?" Sukuna asked, very loudly.

"No idea," Choso answered his fellow curse being.

You sweetly give your children a goodnight kiss on their foreheads, whispering, "Love you." They giggled at the sensation, making you smile. The sorcerers smiled, too, seeing you happy. You were about to say something else when the scene cut abruptly. So abruptly.

ᗢ▪︎ᗢ

Your eyes snapped open, the smile on your face slowly fading as you realized that it was just a dream. Again. The jujutsu sorcerers, too, realized that you had been dreaming. You slowly sat up from your bed, the silence in your new home almost deafening except for the soft chirping of birds outside. In your bedroom, you were alone. Somehow, despite the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains on your windows, the air was chillier. The colors around them seemed a little greyer... duller than it was in that vibrant, joyful dream. You tightened your flannel robe along your torso, adjusting a stray strand of your hair behind your ears.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Oh, you were still alive. And awake. You placed a hand over your beating heart, exhaling.

The jujutsu sorcerers realized that this woman—the lonely woman who woke up from the dream and not the happy mother in that dream—was you. The one they knew. The version that they had watched over the past couple of... hours? Days? Weeks? How long has it been? They didn't know.

"Mom..." Yuuji sadly whispered. "So it wasn't real? Mom was just dreaming about Billy and Tommy?"

"So it seems," Megumi replied, feeling pity for you (for what probably felt like the hundredth time). You didn't deserve this pain at all. "It's never gotten easier for Y/N-san, huh?"

Now, they were transported to a lovely apple orchard, with countless, fragrant trees spaced out almost evenly. Not so far away was the new humble home you'd made for yourself after self-isolating, with a dozen or so sheep running past the jujutsu sorcerers.

"Sheep...?" Gojo blinked, seeing you quietly herd them away to some wooden fences. "Neat... I guess? Didn't think she'd be the type who's into sheperding."

"She's taken up gardening, too. So this is where it began," Toji observed as you diligently snipped away at some overgrown tree branches. He and the others were aware that gardening was one of your hobbies (and why Charmed Coffee & Confectionaries had such a gorgeous display of healthy plants all over the area and outside the shop—heck, the mini-garden you had on the rooftop of your building was a tourist spot itself; Geto could recall Mimiko and Nanako taking a lot of selfies there during that time they first came looking for him after you saved him).

"Apples?" You—and the jujutsu sorcerers—turned around at hearing Strange's voice. Hands in his tailored trouser pockets and a friendly smile on his handsome face, he almost looked like he was about to ask you for a date at the park in this very place.

"... Eventually," you replied, straightening yourself. The jujutsu sorcerers watched as you handed him the small branch you'd snipped off. He sniffed it, nodding and impressed.

"It smells—" He began, only for you to subtly cut in.

"Sweet?"

"I was gonna say real," Stephen chuckled. Your lips curved at his remark as you took the branch from him and tossed it away to the pile of branches on a picket box on the grass.

"Oh, it's all very real. Thanks." Then your smile disappeared, replaced by a sad and remorseful look. "I knew sooner or later you'd show up, wanting to talk about..." You paused. "Westview." It was a word you hadn't said in so long. The spectators also felt like it's been forever since then after they'd seen the other things that happened in your universe—Loki, Spiderman, and more. You breathed out deeply, pocketing your hands in your jacket. "I made mistakes. And people were hurt—"

"But you put things right in the end, and that was never in doubt," he assured. "I'm not here to talk about Westview," Strange informed you. This alarmed some of the jujutsu sorcerers.

"Hey. Wait, wait. Hold up." Geto crossed his arms, glowering at the Master of the Mystic Arts. "You mean to tell me this guy knew about Y/N and what happened to Westview? And didn't bother to show up or do anything about it? Like, help her? Against that nosy Salem witch with the crazy get-up?"

"Same thoughts," Gojo huffed. "The nerve of this guy! The audacity!"

"Then what are you here for?" you inquired, appearing confused.

"We need your help," Stephen quickly answered. You gave it a few moments of thought, walking to make your decision. Strange followed behind you, hands pocketed from the air, as well.

"Oh, so now he asks for her help?" Gojo and Geto chorused, rolling their eyes in annoyance with Strange.

"... No one was there for her when she needed them the most," Choso quietly added.

"Yeah," Yuuji frowned in disapproval.

"With what?" you finally responded, strolling along your orchard with Strange beside you.

"What do know about the Multiverse?"

Your eyes slightly widened as you shared to Stephen what you knew, "The Multiverse... Viz had his theories." Ah, finally a mention of your late synthezoid husband. "He believed it was real. And dangerous."

"Well, he was right about both," Strange disclosed. "We found a girl who can somehow travel across it. But she's being pursued."

Your head turned to him seriously, worriedly, "Pursued by who?"

"Some kind of demon. One that covets her power for itself," Strange answered in a grave tone. "We've taken her to Kamar-Taj, and we've got our defenses. But we could use an Avenger."

Avenger. Huh. That was a title you weren't called ever since... what, the Lagos Incident? The fight against Thanos? Both good and bad memories were associated with it. "There are other Avengers," you reminded him, raising a skeptical brow.

"Yeah, but given the choice of the archer with the mohawk and several bug-themed crime fighters..." You chuckled, amused at his joke. "Or, one of the most powerful magic-wielders on the planet, it's an easy call. Come to Kamar-Taj." His eyes gave such a pleading look. Strange then smirked, "We'll get you back on the lunchbox."

"He's using aaaaaall his mystical silver fox charms to sway her, isn't he?" Gojo pouted, like a child stomping his feet because his mother didn't give him candy.

"You forget that he was a very respected genius neurosurgeon who was probably extremely wealthy and, for the record, attractive," Nanami deadpanned, also inwardly irked at the fact that Strange knew about Westview all along. "I get the feel that this perhaps isn't the first time he's persuading a woman to get what he wants from her. He's got an ego that rivals Stark."

"Not gonna lie, used to do that to women, too," Toji commented, making Megumi quietly groan.

However, it was your next remark that made all of them—except Yuuji, who didn't catch on, at first—that made them freeze in their tracks.

"What if you brought America here?"

The jujutsu sorcerers saw that Strange had noticed your words, too. He was almost rendered speechless. But he played along with it, "... Here?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "I know what's it's like... to be on your own... hunted for abilities you never wanted," you suggested, continuing to stride forward. You really did relate to the girl. The question was...

"How does she know so much about... America?" Megumi's eyes were wide. The rest of the guys had the same expression. Their hearts pumped blood faster through their bodies, adrenaline rushing in their veins.

They couldn't believe it. No. It wasn't possible.

"She could have just read his mind... right?" Gojo murmured, refusing to believe it. "... Right?"

"But she said she put the magic behind her already," Nanami cut in, hazel eyes narrowing at you as you didn't face them or Strange. He continued to reason out, "And I'm pretty sure the Master of the Mystic Arts wouldn't appreciate anyone prodding around his mind and reading it. It's likely he has defenses for that in place."

Toji, Geto, Choso, and Sukuna (the only deranged one who was getting excited about the whole ordeal) chose to be silent, just watching.

"What? Huh? What's happening?" Yuuji's gaze frantically moved from person to person. He didn't understand. But the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers had no words to say as they stared at the scene unfolding before them. "What's wrong?"

Strange stopped walking.

"I can protect her," you promised, only to notice that Strange was no longer beside you and that he had the most disappointed and regretful expression on his face.

Ah, you realized.

You made a slip of the tongue. Oh well. At least you tried. It would've been too easy if Strange was just able to hand you America right then and there. The predator got too excited there, losing the chance to seize their prey in a one-shot kill. Now, the thrilling chase was just starting.

"... You never told me her name, did y—"

"—No."

"Mm."

His voice was far colder now, and he answered instantaneously. Harshly. "No, I didn't." He was about to leave, only for you to speak again, back turned towards him (and the viewers). Antsy and nervous, the jujutsu sorcerers waited for what was going to happen next.

There was an ominous feeling in their gut, something they usually felt when they were dealing with extremely difficult cursed spirits or powerful enemies. The fact that you were the reason why they were feeling like this was... unnerving.

They didn't realize that unintentionally, they were holding their breaths.

"You know, the Hex was the easy part," you divulged quietly, slowly lifting your right hand from your pocket. "The lying... not so much."

With a small wave of your hand, the peaceful illusion of the apple orchard dissolved as the reddish-black fog of your Chaos Magic seeped through your fingertips once more, revealing a desolate wasteland with lifeless trees and scarlet skies. No traces of life were present—not one sheep, not one bird, not even a single ant was alive. In just a blink of an eye, everything down to the molecular level had been altered.

Then, Stephen Strange and the jujutsu sorcerers turned around to see you. Their gaze moved from head to toe, your once-regal and superhero-like Scarlet Witch robes visibly darkened—now a gradient alternating from black to red—and corroded... corrupted, glass-like cracks on the tight bodice originating from where your heart was located, like a metaphor for all the heartbreak you'd been through in this lifetime. Your tiara, too, looked different from the last time they saw it—its two tips pointier and its composition much more hollow. Your half-arm gloves from before had turned into full-on, darkened sleeves which extended to your fingers, which they noted had been stained an inky black. Just like Agatha's before.

The Darkhold floating beside you explained everything.

Even the way you physically appeared had changed. Your hair was longer than when they last saw you, your eyes and cheekbones sharper, lips and lids painted darker, and even the way you held yourself in poise and manner oozed confidence.

You looked downright evil, yet also hypnotizingly and irresistibly a hundred times more attractive.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Sukuna suddenly cackled, ogling you shamelessly through eyes and a mouth on Yuuji's cheek. On the other hand, Yuuji had the opposite reaction, his face the epitome of horrified and betrayed.

"N-No... it can't be," the pink-haired boy stammered in realization. "Mom's... the demon chasing America? She's the one w-who... killed that other Strange?"

"Yuuji," Nanami placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "... Don't... overthink it. Remember, this already happened in the past." However, the blonde was unable to take his gaze off of you. Like the others, his eyes were trained on you. Even he couldn't believe what was happening.

"The Darkhold," Strange's eyes widened at seeing the book.

"You're familiar with the Darkhold?" you asked curiously.

"I know it's the Book of the Damned," Strange coldly replied. "And that it corrupts everything and everyone that it touches." He gestured with his head to your surroundings. Your territory and domain. "I wonder what it's done to you."

"The Darkhold only showed me the truth," you countered as if nothing was wrong. "Everything that I lost can be mine again." You sounded like you truly believed what you were saying.

"What do you want with America?" Stephen's brows furrowed. "What do you want with the Multiverse?"

"I'm going to leave this reality... and go to one where I can be with my children," you announced calmly.

"Wanda, your children aren't real!" Strange attempted to convince you but to no avail. "You created them using magic."

"... That was a fucking awesome way to say it," Toji scoffed sarcastically, still stunned at what was occuring. "Like she's gonna change her mind at this point."

You knowingly and coyly smiled at him, intentionally twisting his words, a sly glint in your eye, "That's what every mother does."

Were they frightened or aroused hearing and seeing you act like such an enchantress? They had no idea.

"By magic, does she mean that episode in WandaVision with the bed and her and Vision having s—" Gojo began, only to be interrupted by his best friend.

"Yes. Yes, she does, Satoru," Geto sighed out. But he wouldn't lie, he could see himself in this darker side of you. It was jarring him. The déjà vu was real.

You clasped your hands together, beginning to circle Strange, "If you knew there was a universe where you were happy, wouldn't you want to go there?" You stared up at him, almost tempting him. But Strange was a man of steel will.

"I am happy," he said, making you raise a fine brow in bemusement. Strange was a man of steel will, but like in Toji's words, he often said a load of bullshit. Obvious lies, duh.

"I know better than most what self-deception looks like," you hummed playfully, aware that he was lying to not only you, but himself. The way you were looking at him had Strange sweating and nervous (so were the jujutsu sorcerers who had a big fat crush on you).

"... Honestly, I would've folded if she looked at me like that," Satoru tilted his head towards you as he addressed his fellow sorcerers. "And I'd instantly marry her. We'd be a hot couple, eh?"

"No thanks," the others replied, instantly shutting him down. Yuuji was a bit kinder, though, but still savage.

"I really admire you, sensei, but I don't want you to be my stepdad," the pink-haired boy awkwardly grinned out, scratching his head.

"I'd be the awesomest stepdad, excuse you!" Gojo cried out, only for Strange to speak again.

"Wanda, what you're doing is a flagrant violation of every natural law and if you take that child's power, she won't survive!" Strange nearly shouted to you in anger.

Instantly, the smile on your face vanished. "I don't relish hurting anyone, Stephen." Then suddenly, you shrugged. "But she's not a child!" you scoffed without a care in the world, both eyebrows high on your forehead as you gave your excuses to Strange. "She's a supernatural being! Such raw power could wreak havoc on this and other worlds! Her sacrifice would be for the... better good." You shrugged offhandedly.

Your words made the jujutsu sorcerers somewhat... sick. They realized that they'd heard this conversation before, with Stark and Cap after the Lagos Incident and during the Sokovia Accords dispute all those years ago. And in America's place, it was you, instead.

To Cap, you were a kid.

To Stark, you were a so-called weapon of mass destruction.

Maybe Iron Man had a point. Not a hundred percent on the dot and definitely not in how he chose to go about it—confining you and putting you in solitary internment—but he knew what you were capable of.

You were dangerous.

And he was absolutely right.

"Well, you can kiss the lunchbox goodbye because that's exactly the kind of justification our enemies use!" Strange argued, making you inwardly snort. Intimidatingly, you stepped closer to him, staring him straight in the eye—daring him to make the first move.

"Is it the one that you used? When you gave Thanos the Time Stone?" you calmly yet bitterly challenged back at his remark. You knew that he knew what he did to you. What he did to Vision. The memory was painfully fresh in your mind, Thanos ripping out the Mind Stone from the head of the person you loved the most after he used the Time Stone to easily reverse your sacrifice.

"Oh shit," Geto muttered, shocked. "Didn't expect that from her."

Clearly, Strange's face showed his guilt, "... That was a war. And I did what I had to do."

You were not convinced by his reasoning. Actually, you were unimpressed. "You break the rules and become the hero," you mocked, knowing about what happened with him and Spiderman, erasing memories and all with the Runes of Kof-Kol he was told not to use. You were merely rubbing salt in the wound; he was oh-so self-righteous wasn't he? "I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair."

"Mom's... she's... she's gone psycho," Yuuji whispered, wide-eyed at your attitude and demeanor. "But... Dr. Strange did break a hella lot of rules... especially with erasing people's memories of Peter Parker... but Mom..." Yuuji's eyes became downcast. "I never thought she'd say something like that."

The others looked at the boy with pity. After all, he had always seen you as his strong, powerful, yet kind mother. For that image of you to be crushed... it must have definitely hurt a lot.

"What happens now?"

"Return to Kamar-Taj and prepare to hand over America Chavez by sundown. Peacefully," you stated your terms firmly. You then gave him a tiny smile. It didn't give them any reassurance, though. This smile of yours was darkly mischievous and triumphant, not the smile they loved to see. "After that, you will never see me again." You turned to leave, using your magic to store the Darkhold safely away from view, only for Strange to speak again.

"And if we don't?"

You stopped in your tracks, looking back at him one more time. "Then it won't be Wanda who comes for her. It will be the Scarlet Witch." It was not a threat. It was a promise.

"Hohoho, this is getting interesting," Sukuna almost giggled. Giggled. Out of excitement. If the King of Curses was this happy, it was an omen that bad things were to come.

ᗢ▪︎ᗢ

The scene morphed to all of them being in Kamar-Taj, with Wong—the current presiding Sorcerer Supreme—pacing the room quickly as an urgent meeting was held between various master sorcerers.

"The Scarlet Witch..." Wong murmured to himself anxiously, before declaring to the others. "The Scarlet Witch is a being of unfathomable magic. She can rewrite reality as she chooses, and is prophesized to either rule or annihilate the cosmos."

"Wait, what?" Yuuji exclaimed.

"Rule or annihilate, hm?" Sukuna chuckled darkly. "Interesting. Very interesting. More... more! I want to see mo—" Itadori slapped the noisy mouth on his cheek.

"Now is not the freaking time, Sukuna!" he huffed.

"Then what Agatha said before was true," Nanami pointed out, tense. "That her power exceeds the Sorcerer Supreme and that—"

"—It's her destiny to destroy the world," Toji finished grimly. "Well, goddamn."

"Suspend all teaching at once!" Wong ordered. "Kamar-Taj must now become a fortress!"

The jujutsu sorcerers then watched in surprise as the entirety of the temple and its dozens of residents swiftly prepared for battle, gathering weapons and artillery, even summoning the masters from the other two sanctums of the world: Hong Kong and London.

"... That's... an entire army," Megumi spoke out, breathless.

"Isn't an army of fifty or more wizards, like, too much for one person?" Choso wondered, scratching his head. "Overkill, that's the word, right?"

"We've seen what she did to Hayward's soldiers before," Toji reminded the other man. His green eyes narrowed, though. "But they are sorcerers, too, so we could give 'em some credit, at least. Maybe Strange can talk his way outta this and Y/N will agree. Maybe. And that Chavez girl will be fine."

Gojo rubbed his face with his hand tiredly, "God, you know what? This is reminding me of that time when your smartass declared war on all of us, trying to get Yuuta for Rika." The silver-haired sorcerer glared at his best friend, who only scowled at the memory of the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. Geto didn't verbally reply, inwardly still trying to... not be so hateful of... monkeys... damn, he really should stop calling non-sorcerers monkeys.

When all preparations and precautions had been made, the small army of Eldritch magic sorcerers the stood guard on Kamar-Taj. No space was left unprotected outside. The jujutsu sorcerers were also waiting for your appearance.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock!

Exactly at sunset, just as you had vowed, dark, billowing clouds appeared from the distance, slowly engulfing the entirety of Kamar-Taj and hushing the surroundings into silence. It was as if the sun had been dimmed and the area had been separated from the rest of the world. It was eerily silent, yet it felt like they were hearing ghostly whispers around them, too.

Yuuji shivered, even in his hoodie. "This is... kinda creepy."

"Reminds me of Coppola's film when Dracula signaled his arrival to London in a ship," Nanami murmured, eyes scanning the clouds to check for any sign of you. The others were doing the same, too.

"You mean the one with Winona Ryder? You always did like her in highschool, you emo," Gojo turned to him, momentarily distracted by his remark. Nanami only quietly sighed, mentally calming himself down and choosing to ignore the older man.

Suddenly, a red light appeared from the foggy clouds, making way to show you floating. Waiting. But surely you didn't think they'd so easily hand over America, right?

"Choose you words wisely," Wong whispered to Strange. "The fate of the Multiverse might depend on it."

Strange, beside him, felt like his shoulders became a ton heavier. "Right." He nodded. "But no pressure, right?" Wong only gave a nod.

As Stephen used the Cloak of Levitation to move towards you, the jujutsu sorcerers felt a pull to him, too. Soon enough, they found themselves floating nearby you and Strange in the sky, too. For Gojo, it wasn't weird since it felt similar to when he used his Infinity. For the others? It was startling to be in the air.

"Bruh, I'm flying?" Yuuji was in awe, then he grew solemn again, seeing your serious face. "This would've been fun if Mom was... Mom."

"All this for a child you met yesterday?" you thundered, glaring at Stephen.

"Wanda, you are justifiably angry," Strange began, trying to calm you. "You had to make terrible sacrifices—"

"I blew a hole through the head of the man I loved," you sharply interrupted, a hint of your past pains showing through. Your tone nearly made the jujutsu sorcerers wince as the image of your crying visage destroying the Mind Stone reappeared in their heads. "And it meant... nothing. Do not speak to me of sacrifice, Stephen Strange," you criticized spitefully. Then, your gaze grew softer as you moved towards Strange, leaning... closer, closer, and closer, until you both were face-to-face like that time in the apple orchard.

It was a fuming Satoru who immediately made a childish comment. "Are they gonna kiss or something? Why's she standing—er, floating so close to him!?"

"Shhh," Geto elbowed him. "Just listen, Satoru." But even the long-haired man (and a few others) was a teeny bit envious of how comfortable you seemed being so close to the Master of the Mystic Arts. That tiny green monster of jealousy in them grew even more when your gaze at Strange became tempting. Seductive, almost. Just like how Agatha had attempted to entice you to voluntarily surrender to her your powers back in Westview.

"If you give me the girl," you purred to Strange much like a beguiling siren would. The man visibly became much more still as he retained his composure. Whatever the Darkhold had done to you, your entire being and behavior were the epitome of alluring and captivating. Right before their very eyes, you were literally bewitching a man (... or six men, specifically, whose Adam's apples were bobbing as they swallowed at the sight of you). "I'll send you to a world where you can be with Christine," you offered, knowing exactly which buttons to press.

"... She's giving iconic Disney villains a run for their money," Gojo cleared his throat, pulling his collar and trying to cool himself down. "Or better yet, Satan himself, making deals like this and everything."

"Intelligent and beautiful, yet also powerful and manipulative," Geto thought to himself, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to distract himself from the memory of you being so... villainous and obsessed with your motives. The passion you exhibited was quite exhilarating, especially to that side of him who used to want to change the world. Perhaps you two weren't that different, after all. Was he terrified of you? Yes, quite. Was he also attracted? Very much, yes. As strange a combination that was. (Ryomen Sukuna, inside Yuuji, was fully embracing that feeling the five other grown jujutsu sorcerers were silently experiencing).

"... Kinda hot, can't lie," Toji hummed out making Megumi beside him cringe.

"Ew, Dad," the younger Fushiguro almost gagged.

Strange did not falter, though, declaring, "The full might of Kamar-Taj stands against you. Do not dare to enter these sacred grounds!" The jujutsu sorcerers had to give it to Dr. Strange, mentally applauding them for being able to resist you. If it were them in his place... well, that would be another story.

"Defensive positions!" the Sorcerer Supreme had commanded to his army from below.

At his defiant words, your shortened temper flared. "You have no idea just how reasonable I've been," you gritted out, all traces of your enchanting persona gone.

Stephen scoffed, retorting, "Book of the Damned, calling yourself a witch, conjuring up creatures to abduct a kid, I don't exactly call that being reasonable!"

"Sending those creatures after her instead of myself was mercy," you reproached, the glowing red balls of energy keeping you in flight flashing brighter with your aggravation. "And in spite of your... hypocrisies and insults," you condemned him harshly. "I have begged you to safely... Get. Out. Of. My. Way." Strange had a bad feeling about where this was about to go.

He definitely did not choose his words wisely, did he?

Geto was really getting déjà vu of himself at hearing you. Sukuna was even more thrilled. Toji, honestly, was impressed. Gojo was just stunned. Nanami and Choso, too, were simply speechless. Megumi and Yuuji only looked horrified. This was the same woman that gave them free food and dessert in her cute little shop? The same woman who would draw cute squiggles and chibi characters on cookies? The same woman who would patch them up when they were wounded? The same woman who gave almost all of them a second chance at life?

They couldn't believe it.

You continued your monologue, anger simmering as your voice turned lower in volume," You have exhausted my patience. But I do hope you understand that even now, what's about to happen...." You gave Strange a hateful, you-made-me-do-this-stare. "This is me being... reasonable."

Your words sent chills down their spines.

With that, you fired a blast of Chaos Magic at him, only for it to be blocked by a now-visible protective magic barrier spanning the area of Kamar-Taj. As Strange flew back down, the jujutsu sorcerers landed on solid ground once more. They stared back up at you outside the barrier.

And even in the distance, they saw that you had become very, very, very pissed off. Seething through your teeth.

"Uh-oh," Gojo exhaled out anxiously as he stared up into the sky. "She's angry."

"No shit, Sherlock," Geto scoffed beside him. "She's fucking livid." Despite not being in the actual battle itself, they could practically feel everything else, including the terror in their hearts as you charged towards Kamar-Taj once more, blasting the shield in different areas with multiple hexes simultaneously (something new they had noticed).

"Reinforce the shield!" Wong yelled out. Even as more sorcerers came to strengthen the barrier, the jujutsu sorcerers could still feel the quaking of the fortress at your blasts. The impacts had grown to be that powerful.

"Whoa, whoa," Yuuji balanced himself with the help of Nanami. The foundation of the building continued to shake.

Realizing that physical attacks were useless, you stopped, instead changing your strategy. Strange immediately noticed this as he saw you scanning the army of sorcerers.

"She's trying to get into their heads," Stephen told Wong, who grumbled.

"Sorcerers, fortify your minds!" he shouted. Honestly, the jujutsu sorcerers felt like they were also being reminded, too. They were getting a bit too distracted by your... change in demeanor. Still, you continued to look for an unfortunate victim. Surely, there had to be one newbie, right?

And you were right.

There was one, indeed, still so apprehensive and vulnerable. There he was. And he knew you were looking at him. You were locking eyes with your helpless target.

Bullseye.

Wide-eyed, the jujutsu sorcerers watched as your astral form appeared right behind one of the younger sorcerers, like the Devil tempting to consume the Forbidden Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. Your physical body, effortlessly awake, floated outside the shield, smirking wide. You astral form only had to whisper one thing for everything to crumble down into pieces.

"Run."

Goosebumps arose on their skins as your prey grew rattled, sprinting away in fear and creating a hole sufficient enough for you to breach in. He had bumped into multiple other sorcerers on the way, too, further weakening the shield. That was when you started channeling more of your Chaos Magic to create another blast.

"Oh fuck, should we run, too?" Gojo asked, yet his legs were already beginning to move. After all, he didn't have his Infinity or his Limitless with him. Right now. And even if this was the past, this was literally, like, a 6D experience.

The blast you shot hit the ground beside them before they could react, knocking them off their feet like the many Eldritch magic sorcerers nearby.

"Oh shit, shit, shit! Get up, Satoru!" Geto grabbed his best friend's shirt as he himself got up from the ground. Toji had Megumi tossed over his shoulder, with Choso doing the same for Yuuji (who had somehow lost his left shoe). Nanami was holding said missing left shoe as he urged the others to run behind Strange near the entrance of Kamar-Taj.

Their reflexes and battle instinct from all their years living in the world of jujutsu had kicked in. But this time, the enemy was you. At least, it felt like it. When they were all near Strange, they took a glimpse of you.

Mercilessly shooting down sorcerers as you charged towards Kamar-Taj, swatting them away like flies with your psionic energy, toppling structures and towers, tossing stone and huge debris everywhere—all while simultaneously defending yourself with an energy shield. You were multitasking offense and defense like it was nothing, reducing Kamar-Taj to ruins in no less than five minutes since the shield was down.

It was chaos.

"Magic on autopilot," Yuuji's eyes were wide.

Right at the entrance, their memory of you as they ran with Wong and Strange was you landing down onto the ground, creating a pulsating wave of energy that decimated any remaining survivors. There was one—screaming and bawling as he crawled on the ground. Without even batting an eye, you waved your hand—literally erasing him from existence with Chaos Magic.

"Holy crap," Yuuji was terrorized. Utterly terrorized. "Did she just... delete that guy out of existence...?"

The others were stunned, as well. But Sukuna? Sukuna was having the time of his life watching you being so cruel and heartless. They didn't even bother telling him off as he openly roared with laughter. It seemed fitting that the King of Curses would laugh so jubilantly, with several fires raging around them, burning bodies into ash and crisp, nothing but sheer blood and destruction at the hands of the Scarlet Witch.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THIS IS IT! THIS IS WHAT I WANTED! THE STENCH OF BLOOD! DEATH! RAGE! FEAR!" Sukuna nearly split his sides in delight. "THE SCARLET WITCH SHALL BE MINE! MINE, MINE, MINE!"

However, much to your surprise, ten Masters of the Mystic Arts bravely... or foolishly... appeared before you through their signature yellow-orange ring portals, poised with their swords; ready to fight. Ah, yes. These were probably the best of the best they had aside from Stephen Strange.

But their best would never be a match for you.

"You dare go against me, sorcerers?" you declared in a booming voice, one fine brow raised and one hand glowing red.

Already highly perturbed at the slaughter you had just executed, the other jujutsu sorcerers could say nothing. As you spoke to the Masters of the Mystic Arts, it felt like you were addressing them, too.

What had become of the sweet woman they knew?

"You are a threat to this world, Scarlet Witch," one of the Masters answered spitefully. "Therefore, we must eliminate you!"

For a few seconds, you were silent. They—including the jujutsu sorcerers—anticipated your reply. Suddenly, you chuckled. Darkly. With it, a matching smirk.

"You are more than welcome to try." It wasn't a threat. It was a taunt. A promise, even.

With that, the Masters of the Mystic Arts charged at you with their swords and magic, only for you to forcefully toss them into the air and slam their bodies into the broken ground. This time, instead of using pure magic to kill them, you even incorporated your magic into skillful hand-to-hand combat, something they hadn't fully seen since what, that time you fought Proxima Midnight in Scotland?

In even more shock and horror, the jujutsu sorcerers watched you move swiftly and fiercely, slicing the Masters with their own swords. With one, you even mind-controlled to slice his own head with his own weapon. The red psionics wrapped around the decapitated body—with you using it as a shield against the other Masters. It was an... effective technique, as grotesque as it was. The corpse had two swords in its abdomen, puppeteering it to kill the other Masters even as it was spurting out fresh blood from its severed neck. As you discarded the body, you expertly dodged and evaded the other Masters charging towards you, snapping their necks or manipulating their bodies to destroy one another.

"Holy mother of..." Gojo gulped, flinching as you crushed a man's skull with your magic. The blood splattered on your face, yet you were unfazed. Behind you, the last Master attempted to inflict some damage, only for him to die the most gruesome death of them all with Chaos Magic as you snapped your gaze to him.

Bones and limbs twisted and broken, screaming in agony, until he was nothing but a mangled mess that exploded into nothing but blood.

"Shit, that's..." Geto's eyes were wide open. Now he was really wondering what would have happened if you got involved with the jujutsu world before Yuuji came along. If you... no, if the Scarlet Witch interfered when he was alive... with you siding with Yuuta and Rika, the Queen of Curses...

He would have been fucked. Kenjaku wouldn't have even had the chance to steal his body because after all this, he realized that you could just delete him out of existence. On a whim. That was how great your power was and you weren't even a jujutsu sorcerer.

You were so unassuming and "normal" on the outside that he would have deemed you a monkey. He would've deemed you a scum of the earth... if he had met you before you met him in that fateful day in your shop. And he would've been so stupid because of that because even without cursed energy, you possessed and mastered something that the Multiverse itself was in danger from.

Chaos Magic.

Yeah. It dawned onto Geto that he would have been really doomed.

And despite all of Masters you sent to their deaths, you looked remorseless. Your eyes lacked the soul and warmth and shine that the jujutsu sorcerers adored. Instead, you were a mindless killing machine with only one mission in mind: to make your children yours again.

"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful," Sukuna nearly purred and groaned as you mindlessly magicked away the blood splatters on your face. "Fit to be my queen, to rule the world alongside me..."

The others couldn't look more disturbed at what you had just done. Was this how... bad the Darkhold's influence on you was?

As if nothing had happened, you stepped towards the main entrance of Kamar-Taj, using the witch's eye to locate your target. America Chavez. The jujutsu sorcerers momentarily found themselves with the girl, and with her, they could hear unearthly whispers—in Sokovian—as you taunted her. Scaring her. You knew exactly where she was. And you were going to get her.

Hide-and-seek was over. It was time for the chase.

Then your intimidation tactics abruptly stopped as you opened your eyes, and the jujutsu sorcerers were now darting their gaze between you and Strange. You gave them man an unamused look, questioning him silently. Daring him.

"You want the girl, you'll have to go through me," he boldly declared.

You accepted his challenge. "Fine."

What you didn't expect was for you to be lured into a trap. Right as you stepped on a button on the floor, your surroundings morphed into kaleidoscopes and countless distorted reflections of space. The jujutsu sorcerers had also become trapped with you, watching as you stared at the infinite reflections of yourself in the Mirror Dimension.

".... Why is a creepy lullaby playing in the background?" Yuuji frowned. "Horror vibes."

"Yo, this is... well, this is reminding me of my time in the Prison Realm," Gojo gasped out. "But this is pretty spacious, isn't it? Prison Realm's pretty cramped."

All of a sudden, gigantic glass spikes shot out from around you, making you raise your arms to instinctively cover your body. Around them, too, but it was nowhere near the size of the shards trapping you.

"Shit, that scared me," Gojo exhaled, a hand over his rapidly beating heart. "And I stand corrected. It's very cramped in here now."

"And sharp," Geto added. "Watch out."

"Ya know, I'm kinda torn between rooting for Strange or Y/N," Toji commented, crossing his arms as he exaimined the glass. "Maybe I'm biased."

"All of us are," Choso pointed out. "It's Y/N, after all. And mind you, a lot of us aren't blameless either." By that, he was referring to himself, Toji, Geto, and Sukuna, specifically. "Technically, aren't we all killers here?"

"... He's got a point," Nanami replied coolly. "None of us are blameless." With that, it was silent amongst them, with only your slightly labored breathing to be heard as you tried to figure out how to get out.

You attempted to break free by firing a bolt of energy at the glass, only for it to continuously ricochet and nearly hit you. Changing your strategy, they watched as you stared at the broken reflection of your face and reached in-between.

Escaping just needed a bit of creativity and imagination.

And, of course, magic.

The scene cut to Strange trying to teleport America with a Sling Ring, only for it to break off and vanish into thin air. The jujutsu sorcerers flinched as they felt an unseen malevolent presence appear in the room, slamming doors shut like a vengeful spirit out for blood. Then suddenly, the guards protecting America were dragged down into puddles of water by a pair of very familiar arms.

"... The fuck?" Toji blinked, baffled.

"Reflections," Strange deduced, warning Wong and Chavez. "She's using the reflections! Cover them!"

The trio proceeded to grab blankets and cloths from around them, quickly covering puddles that remained from an earlier rain last night.

"Makes sense," Geto murmured, deep in thought. "Like in our world, reflections... or mirrors... can be portals to other dimensions. To domains."

They watched as America was about to cover another tiny puddle of water, but as she stared at it too long, an eye appeared.

"Ahhhhhhh!" America and Yuuji screamed at the same time.

Then, a bent arm with crooked, broken fingers suddenly shot out from behind her, like a zombie who had risen from the dead and from its rotten grave underground. This time, it wasn't only America and Yuuji who had screamed (or at the very least, yelped).

You emerged from the golden gong like something out of The Ring, indisputably twisted and deformed, skin split open in multiple places, limbs and neck snapped the wrong directions, and crawling on-fours and on your back as your disfigured bones popped back into place through the Chaos Magic running through your veins like blood.

It was at that very moment that the several jujutsu sorcerers present realized that the Scarlet Witch was a thousand times more terrorizing than any cursed spirit that they would ever face in their lifetime.

"Oh my God!" Yuuji exclaimed. "Ohhhhhhh my God!"

"The fuck is that?" Sukuna and Toji chorused out, watching your body be literally put back together again hideously.

"... I think... I think I'm gonna be sick," a pale, severely-disturbed Megumi unwillingly blurted out as he retched.

"That is... I have no words," Gojo stuttered. Was he disgusted at seeing the insides of your body all jagged up from breaking the shards of the Mirror Dimension? Was he terrified at seeing you come out of the gong like you were that girl from The Grudge? Was he shocked at seeing you reassemble your entire body so repulsively? Yes, yes, and yes. All of them were.

"Never really liked Pennywise anyway," Geto mumbled. He would definitely not be able to erase that image from his head. And he's seen his fair share of revolting curses. "What the actual fuck did Y/N just do to herself?"

"Well shit," Toji was unable to remove his eyes from you as you regenerated. He didn't exactly know what to feel.

The rest were too stunned to speak.

"You gave all those lives just to keep my from my children," you mocked Dr. Strange, walking towards him and his allies like you didn't just break all the bones in your body and fix it. You would've preferred to emerge out of one of the puddles so that you wouldn't come out so distorted, but they'd covered them all or weren't big enough for you to get out. So, the gong was the only option you had—even with how imperfect its reflection was.

"You took those lives!" Stephen yelled back, protectively putting America behind him. "You cannot be allowed to cross into the Multiverse."

"I'm not a monster, Stephen," you defended yourself.

"... Uh, wouldn't be so sure about that," Gojo scratched his head at your remark.

"I'm a mother," you added, stopping a few meters in front of America, Wong, and Stephen.

"Wanda, you have no children!" Strange argued, frustrated by your useless quest for your kids. "They don't exist!"

"Oh, but they do. In every other universe," you enunciated firmly. "I know they do. Because I dream of them. Every. Night." With that, you made a series of hypnotizing hand motions that summoned the Darkhold in front of you. From the Book of the Damned emerged a red mist of your Chaos Magic, and it showed everyone the multiple universes—countless—all containing you and your happy, peaceful family. "I dream of my boys," you whispered, eyes glazing with tears as you watched them grow up with you. "Of our... life together."

The jujutsu sorcerers gazed sadly, suddenly feeling sorry for you as they saw all the other universes that had you and your loved ones as a complete family. The highlights of the alternate universes were mostly Billy and Tommy.

In one universe, they saw you holding the newborn twins in your arms, singing softly a Sokovian lullaby as you rocked them to sleep. In another universe, they saw you clapping happily as you taught the twins how to walk, with them taking their wobbly first steps towards you. There was even another universe where you were simply helping the preschool-aged kids do some arts-and-crafts activities. There was one when they were in the last age they remembered, still kids, almost teens, but you three were running in the field and playing catch with them. In another, you were with the older, teenaged twins as they embraced you, telling you they loved you.

It felt like watching WandaVision all over again, but this time, a version of if it had kept playing until you and Vision grew old with Billy and Tommy. They also noted that in these alternate universes, sometimes Vision was there, sometimes other men were the twins' father, or you were a single mom. Either way, the you of every other universe was far more content and happy with her life. None of them had hurt and experienced so much pain that they were forged into the Scarlet Witch.

None of them. Only you. And God, wasn't that unfair?

"Mom..." Yuuji whispered, seeing tears form in your eyes. "So, all the other variants of her except... her... are happy?"

"Fate really is cruel, huh?" Geto remarked with a tone of pity for you. He frowned.

"If we were in her place, wouldn't we go crazy, too?" Toji muttered. He knew he would go crazy if he found out that in all the infinite universes, it was only in his universe that his life sucked before his first wife saved him and made him truly happy. What if... in other lives, he got to grow old with the love of his life?

Choso silently agreed. What if it was only in his universe that his brothers met their end? That he wouldn't be able to be with them? He'd be pissed, too. But that was a what-if he would never be able to answer.

Nanami was thinking how it would be if he found out that it was only himself that lost Haibara. What if all the other Nanami in other universes had a different destiny? What if Haibara survived? What if... what if...

"Every night, the same dream," you breathed. Then, right as you shut the Darkhold, a single tear dropped down you cheek. It was dark again, with no glowing red magic to illuminate the room. "And every morning, the same... nightmare."

America's eyes showed sympathy; she knew what it felt like to yearn for her family. Her mothers, specifically. Even Strange felt pity for you after seeing what you had just shown him. It truly was unfair. And he felt like he needed to apologize for you for his insensitive comment about you having no children because, it turns out, you did. Just not in this universe. But that didn't change the massacre you had just committed minutes ago. "... What if you reach them? What happens to the other you? What happens to their mother?" he asked, an ominous feeling in his gut for your answer.

Your expression darkened. Slowly, a miniscule yet sinister smirk curved your lip up, only implying one thing. Immediately, they knew your answer through your silence.

The next few minutes were but a blur, with a short-lived fight between you and Wong. The jujutsu sorcerers watched, once more in horror, as you restricted America and began siphoning her powers from her. In her fear, portals to the Multiverse were involuntarily opened.

Strange, in an attempt to save Chavez, flew towards her. You shot a single blast at him to deter him, however, something else happened.

He aimed wrong, still dragging America with him, but this time, into the multiple portals across the Multiverse.

And this time, the jujutsu sorcerers had been dragged along with them.

"Ooooohhhhh, shiiiiii—" Gojo's, Toji's, Geto's, and Yuuji's voices echoed as they got the full experience of travelling the Multiverse. From Kamar-Taj, they were literally flying into worlds with the Living Tribunal, outer space, an icy planet, quantum particles, an underwater space, a world where Stark Technology was prominent, hell itself, a jungle full of dinosaurs, a planet ruled by bees, a place where everything was cartoons and comics, another dimension where they were literally turned into blocks, then another were they became splashes of color, then a world where HYDRA succeeded, and a whole lot more they couldn't process in a blink of an eye because suddenly, they were on a rooftop in a random universe where a lot of things seemed more advanced in New York.

While Strange and Chavez conversed, the others were not too happy.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." Geto held his aching, spinning head. The others also landed face first into the floor.

"We just travelled the Multiverse," Gojo gawked, then pointed to himself in realization, bewildered and shaken to the core. "I just travelled the Multiverse. Oh God, that felt like being in my own Infinite Void but worse somehow. Much worse."

"Ow," Choso groaned, rubbing the bump on his head (he had been protecting Yuuji's head, in turn, preventing him from holding his own head from the impact).

A grimacing Toji had done the same for Megumi's head, but his son was already in a corner puking his guts out in whatever pail he could find, just like Strange who was also retching from the motion sickness. Nanami, whose glasses were still miraculously on his face, was patting Megumi's back. Still, Kento himself seemed as if he was in a daze after the entire ordeal.

Yuuji was laid flat on the ground, eyes staring into the sky tiredly. "... I wanna go home really bad," he mumbled, dizzy from Multiverse hopping. "I want Mom back. The nice one. The one that gives me rice bowls and dessert out of nowhere and hugs me. I don't wanna be in her past. I just want the present... her. I don't care. I just want my mom."

"Me, too, kiddo," Satoru pulled him up, frowning. "Oi! Megumi-chan! You good? We gotta follow the girl and Strange!"

Nanami offered Megumi a yellow-and-black-dotted handkerchief from his pocket, which the spiky-haired boy gratefully accepted to wipe his mouth. "Y-Yeah. I'm good. I think. Blegh," he cringed at the taste of acid and vomit in his mouth.

The jujutsu sorcerers tagged along with Strange and America as they searched for the variant of Dr. Strange who guarded this universe's New York Sanctum, stopping by for some stolen pizza balls, crossing the road on a red light (also weird for the jujutsu sorcerers), and stumbling upon a Memory Lane free trial—which felt really meta with how they were practically experiencing your Memory Lane—only for all of them to stop in front of a huge statue made in memory of that universe's Dr. Strange. America asked the question they all had in their heads.

"If other you's dead, who's master of the Sanctum?"

With the way things were going, it appeared that the Karl Mordo of this universe was about to fight them, only for him to introduce himself and laugh, hugging Strange. "My brother! Come in! And tell me about your universe!"

Stunned, Strange awkwardly laughed, ushering America to follow the man into the Sanctum. After some quick pleasantries, Strange got straight to the point, mentioning you as they discussed current events through tea. Instantly, the jujutsu sorcerers' ears perked up.

"Our Wanda has the ability to conjure demons and monsters to attack America in other universes," Strange warned Mordo.

"So she has the Darkhold?" Mordo inquired, slightly leaning towards Stephen in question.

"You know of the Darkhold?" Strange asked.

"Oh yes. We have a Darkhold in this universe, too. I guard it here in this Sanctum," Mordo disclosed. "We would never risk a weapon that dangerous falling into the wrong hands."

"Damn right," Strange muttered.

"But if your Darkhold is anything like ours, I'm afraid she can do far worse than just summon monsters to come after you here," Mordo advised.

"Far worse? Hasn't she done the worst already in Kamar-Taj?" Nanami wondered out loud, the chilling memory of you crawling out of that gong sending shivers down his spine, like insects crawling on his skin. It was... extremely... disturbing.

"Who knows? If Y/N did some IT and The Grudge kind of shit, maybe she's gonna go The Exorcist this time. Or The Conjuring," Toji huffed out. "Maybe even Final Destination or something."

Funnily enough, the infamous Sorcerer Killer had no idea how right he was with his offhanded comment.

"What do you mean?" America nervously asked.

"There is a... spell contained within those pages," Mordo revealed in a hushed tone. "Corrosive to the soul. A desecration of reality itself." Whether it was for effect or if it was forbidden to speak about, the multiple candles in the room were suddenly blown out by a wind that came out of nowhere.

"Uh-oh..." Yuuji's eyes darted around. "I've got a bad, bad feeling about this."

"Dreamwalking," Mordo spoke out. "A dreamwalking sorcerer projects their own consciousness from their universe into another, possessing the body of an alternate self."

The jujutsu sorcerers froze at his statement. Gojo spoke out first, pointing at his ear with a befuddled expression, "Wait, wait, did I just hear this guy right? Possessing the body of an alternate self?"

"Dreamwalking...?" Geto quietly repeated to himself in shock. Nanami, who was beside Toji, sighed out.

"Turns out you were pretty accurate with your prediction," the blonde spoke to the ex-assassin, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

Mordo continued, "They may puppeteer this unholy doppelganger and pursue their enemies from afar."

"That's scary," Yuuji exhaled, running a hand through his pink locks. "So what, Mom's really gonna go even batshit crazier?"

"Sounds like it," Choso answered back, listening intently.

"The possession is not a permanent link between realities. But in the fleeting time they dreamwalk, they can do irreparable damage to the universe they invade," Mordo divulged. "So it may not be a demon you face. It may be the Scarlet Witch."

"Why didn't she do that in the first place?" America asked, confused.

"Because that was her being reasonable," Stephen replied tensely, turning to Mordo as your warnings echoed in his ear. "What do you know about the Book of Vishanti?"

"The Darkhold's antithesis?" Mordo seemed unsurprised and calm. "It can give a sorcerer whatever power they need to vanquish their enemy."

"I need your help to get me to it," Strange requested, only to start feeling queasy. Very, very queasy. His brows furrowed as his vision spun, blurring.

Meanwhile, the jujutsu sorcerers grew bewildered as the scene in front of them began flickering back and forth. Now, they were seeing you restrain Wong with your magic in bits and pieces. Yet, at the same time, they were seeing America and Strange, as well.

"I'm sorry, Stephen." Mordo stood up, walking towards the staggering Strange, "But I hope you, of all people, understand that it is not Wanda Maximoff who threatens our reality. It's the two of you."

"Oh, God," Chavez whispered, losing consciousness.

"What was in that tea?" Strange stumbled, falling to the floor and dropping his teacup. "You son of a—" He tried standing up, but to no avail, seeing the teapot on the floor which glowed green. "The Sands of Nisanti..." he realized. No wonder he was so drowsy.

"What's happening? We didn't even have any of his tea!" Yuuji exclaimed, the scene still flickering between you with an unconscious Wong in Kamar-Taj and Strange with Chavez in the unknown universe.

"Please don't let us be thrown in the Multiverse again," Megumi prayed to whatever gods were there, knowing he might puke again. "Please, please, please."

"I'm only acting as you would," Mordo said, leaving. Strange closed his eyes, whispering one last thing.

"She's coming."

Before they knew it, the flitting scene fully morphed to you in Kamar-Taj, standing in the middle of multiple, brightly-lit candles forming a circle. You were performing some sort of witchy ritual, your hands gracefully executing a series of hand gestures which brought forth the Book of the Damned. Your hands glowed the misty, reddish-black fog of your Chaos Magic. All of them were mesmerized—like they were in a trance—as they observed such a... blaphemous ceremony.

"Hmm. This is quite entertaining," Sukuna finally spoke out once more, chuckling to himself as he watched you cross your legs, floating in mid-air with you eyes closed and your blackened fingers resting on your lap.

"Oh God, she really is a witch," Geto breathed out at the sight.

Countless glowing balls of reddish-black energy materialized behind you, connecting you to the entire Multiverse as you searched your variants one by one, trying to see which matched America's whereabouts. When you finally found it, you projected your soul to your target variant, traversing the Multiverse. The jujutsu sorcerers, too, watched with their very eyes as your soul traveled the neuron-like network of universes. They were transported inside the house—the Vision Residence—of your variant, arriving with a faint, echoing scream in the background. Now, they were right behind your variant, who was cleaning up for the night.

"Boys, it's time for bed," the variant of you reminded her kids as she took away the dishes.

"Can we have a little more ice cream? Please, please, please?" the twins begged. "A little more, please?" Alternate you shook her head.

"Hey, don't make Mom out to be the bad guy," other you gently chastised, making them pout.

"Awww, okay, Mom." Thankfully, Billy and Tommy were easily distracted by a game, allowing you to clean up in peace.

Or so you thought.

Alternate you stopped in her tracks around the same time the jujutsu sorcerers' heads snapped towards the empty staircase in her residence. It felt like somebody was watching them. Her. As jujutsu sorcerers and trained killers, they knew better than to underestimate the invisible.

"... Y/N is here, isn't she?" Nanami murmured, eyes trained on the staircase. Nothing appeared to there, but the air... it was unsettling. Like a silent monster hiding under the bed. Or in the closet.

"Even without my Six Eyes, she is seriously giving off crazy cursed spirit behavior," Gojo muttered with a shiver, then turned to one of the men with him. "No offense, Choso."

The cursed spirit just blinked at him, then shrugged wordlessly, as if telling the other man, "None taken."

They observed as alternate you mulled over the sudden, nerve-wracking atmosphere. She knew something was wrong. There was an unseen, foreboding presence with her. She hasn't used her powers in a while, yet even then, something primal in her was telling her she was being watched. Deciding not to think much of it—perhaps it was just an owl outside—she hesitantly stepped towards the kitchen.

As she did it, the sound of crickets outside faded away. The warm lights in the room started flickering strangely.

On. Off. On. Off.

She took a glance at her kids, who seemed to be unaware of what was happening. Dread filled her entire being. Was she going insane? Was she seeing things? As she headed to the sink, the lampshade installed above the dining table began swinging wildly by itself as it kept flickering on and off, its creaks and screeches amplified like nails on a chalkboard. Its angry flickers were making other you feel quite lightheaded, too.

Creaaaaaaaak!

Behind her, the jujutsu sorcerers were seeing and feeling—experiencing the whole thing—unable to describe what they were going through. What alternate you was going through.

When she turned to the other direction to try and ground herself, she saw herself in her own picture frame move. No, it didn't just move. Its head turned and the smile on its face vanished as it glared directly at her.

"What... the fuck...?" Toji said what everyone was thinking, bewildered.

"I've seen a hella lot of cursed spirits but this is just plain creepy," Gojo muttered, feeling cold.

"Damn right," Geto replied, covering his ears in irritation at the scratching sound of the lampshade creaking. "Ugh. That makes me want to claw my ears out."

Breathe. Breathe.

Alternate you was starting to hyperventilate in panic, a random burst of wind making Billy's and Tommy's bowls fall... sideways? Not vertically to the ground due to normal gravity, but horizontally to the counter, defying the laws of physics. She was hearing haunting, evanescent whispers in Sokovian, too.

All of which she understood fully.

As her vision began to tilt, she ran towards the sink to hold herself—to stabilize herself before she fell. However, her eyes caught movement on one of the dirty plates beside the sink. The peas on Tommy's used plate were rolling around on their own, sounding awfully like hard mables on stone.

Rrrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrr.

Her head whipped to the right, hearing... ocean waves? In the unfinished cup of tea, she was seeing... roaring tides crashing against each other? Terror froze the blood in her veins.

Shhhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhhh. Shhhhhh.

Something was very wrong.

When she lifted her head, instead of seeing her normal reflection, she was met with you—her evil, deranged doppelganger. Your glowing, scarlet irises stared daggers into her entire being. Not even giving her another second to react, you entered her body—stealing its place and locking her soul away. She struggled against the invasion of her own body, writhing and screaming, eyes widened and limbs taut, but you were the stronger soul.

You'll take her place from inside her.

The jujutsu sorcerers could only watch in muted horror as the depraved, demonic-like spiritual possession took place. Finishing up the possession, your eyes glowed a brighter red before dimming back to its regular shade. You let out a small breath of relief, subtly wiggling your shoulders—as if testing out your new body. Strangely enough, it felt comfortable. Snug and fit—except for the wails of your alternate self in her own mind.

You'd shut her up soon enough.

Suddenly, your eyes met theirs for the first time, making the spectators watching the whole scene visibly flinch and hold their breaths unconsciously. A tiny smirk appeared on your lips as you turned away.

"Oh?" Sukuna, as a mouth on his vessel's face, sounded out in interest. He was the only one finding a sick sense of enjoyment in all of this.

"Did... Did she just... see us?" Yuuji cowered in fear, hiding behind Nanami and Choso. The other men couldn't answer him, also stunned.

"This... is very different... from her interview from that one Modern Family-themed WandaVision episode..." Gojo swallowed, traumatized at you breaking the fourth wall of whatever spell or illusion they were thrown into.

They may exorcise cursed spirits for a living, but the Scarlet Witch introduced to them a sense of dread that was unmatched. You were the stuff nightmares were made out of.

"Mom?"

You halted in your steps, hearing the two voices you've longed to hear for so long. But now was not the time. You couldn't face them now, could you? You had to look for America first. Still, your heart couldn't resist. "... Yes, sweetheart?" you shakily replied, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. Suddenly, the fear in the jujutsu sorcerers' hearts turned into pity. In this moment, they suddenly wanted to give their condolences to you, now fully knowing how much you'd lost.

You were going to meet your children once again.

"Where are you going?"

Your heart clenched. "Just... to take out the trash," you lied, stammering. However, as they rushed and urge you to come to them, saying they'd show you something. You slowly turned on your heels as the boys asked you to hurry up, your eyes welling with tears as you finally saw them again.

Billy and Tommy.

Your twins. Your babies. The two beings whom you loved more than life itself aside from your late husband. The very beings which were perfectly half you and half the love of your life.

The began arguing on who would start, only for you to cut in, voice trembling with emotion, "Why... don't you both... start... it... whatever it is... together?"

"Okay!" your kids chirped, counting down.

"I wonder what they're gonna do," Yuuji asked, only to sweatdrop at what happened next.

"We like ice cream, like every child should!" the twins sang, off-key. You didn't mind (but some of the jujutsu sorcerers did). "And if you give us ice cream, we promise to be good!"

"Ugh," Sukuna and Toji groaned simultaneously in irritation.

"Definitely not singers," Gojo snorted, trying to push the horrifying memory of you possessing your alternate self into the back of his mind, only for Geto to elbow him.

"I think it's cute, so don't be rude," his best friend chided, his soft dad side coming out. "Mimiko and Nanako did something similar when they wanted candy."

"... Mom's crying," Yuuji suddenly pointed out sadly. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as you cupped the twins' faces gently, like you were touching them as newborns again.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stay here with them. Just for a little while. You'd give them ice cream and talk with them. Yeah. That seemed like a good plan. Everything else could wait.

Then, the scene changed once more as they were brought back to the original universe you were in, where your original body was floating in the middle of the circle of candles. They saw Wong's limbs restrained by your magic. However, one of the survivors, Sara, came up to him.

"You're alive," Wong breathed out. Sara nodded solemnly.

"Yes. But so many others were lost," Sara murmured regretfully. Wong then turned to your dreamwalking, vulnerable form.

"Set me free. I need to destroy the book," he stated, only for the woman beside him to shake her head, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

"No. It cannot be you." With that, Sara took out a dagger from her robes, tackling the Darkhold and stabbing it.

"Sara! No!" Wong cried out.

The jujutsu sorcerers watched, for the nth time, in horror as destroying the Darkhold burned Sara into ash, a sole tear the only evidence of her life. From the other universe, the scene before them flickered once more, between your possessed alternate self and your dreamwalking state. With the Darkhold destroyed, the connection severed and the spell reversed.

Flicker.

You roughly fell to the floor, dropping the porcelain plates and utensils you were going to use for Billy's and Tommy's ice cream. At the same time, they saw your once-dreamwalking body get blasted down to the ground in your original universe.

Flicker.

Hearing the crash from the kitchen, the twins came running to you. "Mom!"

Flicker.

"What happened!?"

Flicker.

Still, they saw you frantically get up, kneeling in front of the twins, flickering from one universe to another and attempting to sustain the possession... trying to stay with your boys.

Flicker. Flicker.

"Are you okay!?" they asked worriedly, helping you get up.

Flicker... Flicker... Flicker... Nothing.

"Billy... Tommy..." you panted, their concerned faces disappearing from your field of vision as you unwillingly returned back to your original universe.

"Y/N..." the sorcerers murmured, again sympathetic of your situation, no matter how twisted and fucked up it was. In a frenzy, you scampered towards the remains of the Darkhold, whimpering at its sorry state.

"No, no, no, no," you whispered miserably, holding the book up. It was gone. Dismayed, your lips wobbled as you became hopeless. The jujutsu sorcerers thought that this would be it. Your corruption would stop. The ink on your fingers grew fainter already, only tinges and traces of it left.

Suddenly, you glowered darkly.

And they stilled in fear once again as you slowly swivelled around to Wong. Before they could react, you had already thrown him to the ruins of Kamar-Taj, striding menacingly towards him.

"I need the Darkhold's spells," you demanded impatiently, playing no games and getting straight to the point. "You are the Sorcerer Supreme. Tell me what you know!"

"You'll have to kill me first, witch," Wong spat out spitefully.

Your eyes narrowed as his defiance, something Sukuna was very much liking. He chuckled once more before Yuuji slapped a hand over him again. The others were watching the scene anxiously, not knowing what you'd do next (because honestly, you were being unbelievably unpredictable in this obsessed state of yours). "Not you," you spoke out, raising one hand. "Them."

From behind Wong, four survivors were swept into the air, your Chaos Magic physically tormenting them and twisting their bodies painfully. Even their cries and wails of pain weren't enough to deter you. You would get what you want. No matter what it takes. You didn't care.

"Wanda, stop!" Wong pleaded, unable to see his students tortured. You didn't stop, cracking and popping your fingers even more to strengthen the pain they were feeling. "Wanda, please!"

"Goddamn, she's crueler here than with Kenjaku," Toji stated. He wouldn't be messing with you anytime soon after this. Not that he would. Ever.

"The Darkhold's clouded her reason so much," Nanami frowned. This wasn't you. You were taking out your pain and rage on these innocent wizards.

"... The Darkhold was a copy!" Wong relented. Instantly, with a wave of your hand, the torture and screams stopped.

"A copy?"

"Legend speaks of a mountain with the wretched spells you seek carved into its walls," Wong shut his eyes. He shouldn't he telling you this, but he had to. The guilt of so many lives lost were already weighing down on him. "It's there the Darkhold was transcribed. Mount Wundagore."

You paused. It was a vaguely familiar place to you. It was near Sokovia, and briefly, you could remember old folktales and legends there from your childhood. "Mount Wundagore?" you repeated to confirm.

"No one has survived the journey," Wong disclosed as you set the four survivors down—astonishingly, in a gentler manner—to the ground. But, from one of the corpses, you used your magic to throw an extra Sling Ring to Wong.

Mount Wundagore was your next destination.

"Perhaps we will be the exception," you stated darkly, accent thicker as you set your goal to the mountain.

Suddenly, the jujutsu sorcerers were teleported to where Strange and America were contained in an advanced research facility. They met 838-Christine... who consequently told Strange that he was 616-Strange... which led to them to wonder.

"What number is our universe?" Choso questioned out loud.

"I wonder that, too..." Yuuji eeplied, scratching his head. "All this Multiverse stuff is making my head hurt."

"Someone from my universe wants that girl," Strange warned 838-Christine, who refused to let him and America go. "And she's going to rip this place apart atom-by-atom until she gets what she wants."

"... That's one way to describe Y/N," Toji shrugged, turning to Yuuji... or the curse inside him. "She did beat ya up in your domain that time ya ripped Itadori's heart, didn't ya?"

"Tch!" Sukuna snarled, but didn't deny it. The other sorcerers and Yuuji himself were surprised, not knowing about the event.

"She beat Sukuna up in his domain?" Gojo questioned, hearing the juicy gossip. "Heeeey, when did that happen?"

"Sometime after ya told her that Sukuna ripped this kid's heart before he got resurrected," Toji shared, smirking at the memory, glancing at Geto and Choso. "Ya two weren't there yet, so it was just the two of us. But I'll tell ya what, seeing an old woman in a dark room with glowing red eyes and floating knives is something ya wouldn't wanna see. No wonder she came back in a good mood after beating the shit outta ya."

"She did not beat shit outta me, bastard!" Sukuna protested, growling. He refused to be humiliated by a man who didn't even use jujutsu!

Funnily enough, after everything that's happened, they could vividly imagine what Toji was describing.

They heard Strange continue talking, "So I don't care if you're from the Avengers or SHIELD—"

"We're neither," a voice interrupted from behind Christine. It was 838-Mordo, with...

"Are those a bunch of Ultron bots behind him?" Nanami recognized. "Like those Stark created when we saw the younger Y/N and Pietro."

"Seems like it," Megumi agreed.

"Well, what then? HYDRA?" Strange shouted. That was a word the jujutsu sorcerers hadn't heard since what? Civil War? WandaVision? They were getting really familiar with the history of your universe... or Earth-616, specifically.

"The Illuminati will see you now," Mordo announced.

"The Illumi-what-y?" Strange (and hilariously, Gojo and Yuuji) said out loud in confusion.

Before more explanations could be made, they were suddenly on top of a freezing, snowy mountain. Unfortunately for them, despite the upcoming snowstorm—actually, beknownst to them, ongoing snowstorm—in their world, they had removed their jackets, coats, scarves, and layers back in your home. Now, they were left helpless to the powers of nature, the icyness nipping at their skin.

"W-W-W-Where a-are w-we?" Yuuji chattered, hands by his shoulders. The other sorcerers were chattering, too, in the middle of the frosty temperature.

"I-I-I t-t-think this i-is M-Mount W-Wundag-gore?" Gojo replied, unsure and shaking. "F-Fuck, i-it's f-f-freezing o-out h-h-here!"

"W-W-We r-r-really sh-shouldn't h-have re-removed o-o-o-our c-c-c-coats," Geto sputtered, visible puffs of air coming from his mouth. No matter what they did, the strong winds were throwing snow in their faces.

That was when a golden-orange portal appeared before them, with you and Wong emerging from it, trekking the mountain shortly. When you arrived, you squinted, spotting a structure hidden by the fog up ahead. God, it was cold.

"You couldn't portal us up there!?" you exclaimed, skin flushing from how frosty it was. Still, the jujutsu sorcerers were surprised by the fact that your teeth weren't chattering like theirs.

"My magic can only take us so far," Wong huffed. "Masters of the Mystic Arts weren't meant to tread upon the forbidden grounds of Wundagore." You had no idea if he was just stalling or telling the truth, but you made up your mind. With a determined gaze, you used your magic to fly to the entrance of ruined castle, dragging Wong (and the jujutsu sorcerers) behind you.

"Aaaaaaand, we're flying again," Megumi muttered to himself, not looking at the steep height below them.

"Weeeee!" Gojo exclaimed. Damn. He really missed flying with his powers, too.

"That's one huge-ass castle," Toji commented as they flew closer to the decrepit stronghold.

"Seriously giving me Coppola's Dracula vibes," Geto remarked, staring up at the impressively foreboding Darkhold Castle.

You landed on the entrance of the former fortress, examining the many broken stone pillars and dust and snow that had accumulated.

"Eons ago, the first demon, Chthon, carved his Dark Magic into this tomb," Wong explained, swallowing nervously. You (and the jujutsu sorcerers) stared at the Satanic inscriptions glowing red on the walls—very similar to your Chaos Magic, which you were currently using as an alternative torch.

Crack!

You lightly gasped in surprise. Their heads quickly snapped behind them, seeing some rocks fall down from above. Nothing was there. False alarm. You all continued to roam the area as Wong spoke.

"There's no telling what soulless monstrosities lie within." He was looking up at a dark, hooded skeleton which had its arms and talons crossed like a mummy. Using your magic, you lit up four large cauldrons, which surrounded what appeared to be a...

"Is that... a sacrificial altar?" Geto asked out loud. "Whoa. Damn." Even his former cult didn't have anything as nefarious as that.

All of a sudden, roars resounded from behind them. From the shadows emerged monstrous, red-eyed, demonic creatures, the Knights of Wundagore. Prepared to defend yourselves, you flew on top of the altar for battle whereas Wong's Eldritch magic circles appeared on his hands.

"The fuck are those things?" Toji asked.

"No idea," the others chorused.

That was when each of the knights formed their claws into fists, resting it on their chests as they respectfully knelt down before you—pledging their allegiance to the prophesized Scarlet Witch.

"They've been waiting for me," you exhaled out, stunned.

"Look," Nanami pointed behind you in awe. The jujustu sorcerers turned around. At the same time, you did, too. And you came to a startling realization.

The chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold was real. The prophecy of the Scarlet Witch. There was a magnificent statue... of you. Old and ancient, but true. Made by worshippers of the Elder God, Chthon.

"This isn't a tomb," you concluded, chin raised higher this time at the demons kneeling in front of you. "It's a throne."

"... A throne?" Sukuna intoned, mind clouded with hunger and passion. Second by second, he was getting even antsier to meet you again. To claim you as his. For you to become his Queen. After a thousand years, he's finally found someone worthy enough to become his partner.

You.

But he knew he had competition. The five other men with him, although he saw them as insignificant sow, held affections for you as well. Gojo Satoru. Nanami Kento. Fushiguro Toji. Geto Suguru. Kamo Choso.

Ryomen Sukuna was eager to win among all of them.

The scene changed from the Darkhold Castle back to where Strange was. He was being escorted by Ultron sentient bots to in front of what looked to be a council.

838-Mordo decreed, "Stephen Strange. You are now called before the Illuminati. I, Baron Karl Mordo, the Sorcerer Supreme, do hereby—"

"Wait, wait. Karl?" Stephen laughed at his enemy, only for a vibranium shield to be thrown beside him. It boomeranged back to a woman. A very, very familiar looking woman. Peggy Carter?

"Isn't that Cap's ex?" Gojo whispered to the others. "Why's she Captain America?"

"She did sound pretty badass when Cap talked about her with Mom back then," Yuuji said, remembering the events right after the Lagos Incident.

"Captain Carter. The First Avenger," Mordo introduced.

"Blackagar Boltagon. Keeper of the Terrigen Mists. The Inhuman King."

"Blackagar Boltagard?" Strange repeated as a jab. "Hidigy hidithere!"

"Pshh. What is this, Game of Thrones?" Geto snickered. Even he found it amusing.

"Captain Marvel. Defender of the Cosmos." Instead of it being Carol Danvers, it was Maria Rambeau, Monica's mother.

"And the smartest man alive, Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four," Mordo finished.

"Fantastic Four?" Strange was incredulous. "Didn't you guys chart in the sixties?"

"... Wasn't that the Beatles?" Megumi thought to himself.

"I'm sorry, is this a joke to you?" Maria asked, insulted.

"Well, there's a guy over there with a fork on his head," Strange pointedly looked at Black Bolt. "So, yeah, a little bit." Said man raised a finger over his lips, signalling Stephen to basically zip his mouth.

"Be grateful Black Bolt doesn't engage you in conversation," Peggy advised.

"Why, does he have bad breath?" Strange taunted.

"Huh. Sounds like something you and I would say," Gojo turned to Geto, who was impressed with Strange.

"Definitely. How... strange," Geto replied, making himself and Gojo laugh at their own jokes.

"You two are corny as hell," Toji shook his head. But he wouldn't lie. If he were in Strange's position, he'd say the same things, too. Heck, he used to do that with the Zenin Clan elders when he was younger.

They all listened as Reed explained to Strange the dangers of him in the Multiverse, telling him what incursions were and what their consequences were. Strange, however, had another priority.

"If it's incursions you're worried about, do you seriously think I'm a bigger threat than the Scarlet Witch?!" Strange asked quizzically, trying to convince them of the threat you posed.

"Oh, we can handle your little witch if she decides to dreamwalk," Maria arrogantly countered.

Gojo clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "Wouldn't be so sure about that, Captain Marvel."

"No. No, you cannot," Strange responded. "Not unless you give me the Book of Vishanti."

However, the members of the Illuminati disclosed that it wasn't the Scarlet Witch who was the greatest threat to their reality—or so they thought. That was when a man in a fancy wheelchair entered the room.

"Our final member. Professor Charles Xavier. One of the greatest telepaths alive."

Then, they were in the Darkhold Castle again. You were looking at a statue of a boy, touching it nostalgically. Somehow, it looked like one of your boys. Billy. But older.

"All these scene changes are seriously making me nauseous," Megumi quietly complained. He still hadn't recovered from being thrown across the Multiverse.

"You're wondering what happens now," you addressed Wong.

"No. That, I've already accepted," the Sorcerer Supreme replied. "But I do wonder, when you could force America to send you to any universe you want, why take her power for your own? You know it will kill her."

"For Billy and Tommy. To protect them," you instantly answered, as if it were that simple. You walked towards them. "In the infinite Multiverse, there's a cure for every illness. A solution to every problem," you justified. "I won't lose them again."

"The Darkhold's really clouded her reason," Nanami sighed. "There's no turning back."

"Why's Mom so... good in our world, then?" Yuuji inquired, not understanding.

"I don't know. But more things will happen for sure," Kento replied.

"Try as you might, Wanda, you cannot control everything!" Wong stated. Despite what you've done, perhaps there was a way for you to still see reason. To realize what you were doing was wrong.

"But I can!" you shot back, gesturing to the castle. "Look around you! It's carved. In stone. I was meant to rule everything." You eyed the grandiose statue that imitated your likeness. You were praised and adored even before you were born into this world.

"... Rule everything, huh?" Geto mumbled. "Interesting, indeed." He recalled wanting to do that once by eliminating all the monke—non-sorcerers.

"We can rule everything together," Sukuna cut in. Everyone else rolled their eyes.

"Not gonna happen, sicko," Gojo answered back, making the King of Curses scoff at him.

You shook your head dejectedly, "But that's not what I want. I just want my boys."

"At the cost of a child's life!?" Wong argued, voice raising. "Is there no peace in knowing that even though you can't be with the ones you love, there are worlds where you are together?!"

His remark hit the jujutsu sorcerers right on the nail. After all, in their field, they'd lost so many. But it was comforting to think that maybe in another universe, they were alive and well. You, however, grew enraged at his remark.

"Is that not enough!?" he shouted.

You lifted your hand and raised him in the air, whispering angrily, "No." You then proceeded to throw him off the castle without a second thought, startling the sorcerers.

You were gonna do it your way.

"Oh shit," Toji, Geto, and Gojo cussed.

"She threw him off," Choso gawped.

The next thing they knew, you were repeating the dreamwalking ritual once more and commencing the spell. This time, you had four loyal Knights of Wundagore to stand guard around you should something happen.

Now they were back in Earth-838's Vision Residence. They watched in terror as you possessed you other self again. You kissed your sleeping twins' foreheads and this time, you wasted no time, using your powers to fly off to where America Chavez was.

Meanwhile, Strange and the Illuminati were still speaking. Xavier showed Strange, and consequently the jujutsu sorcerers with them, a memory of 838-Strange's fate. They were on planet Titan, Thanos's home planet and where the original battle also took place in Universe-616. However, this time, a dead Thanos was in the corner, his own sword through his chest. Kneeling before the Illuminati was a repetant 838-Strange, his fingers stained black with the repeated use of the Darkhold.

"I shall miss you, my friend," Xavier bid him goodbye goodheartedly.

838-Strange nodded, forlorn yet ultimately accepting his fate. "... I'm ready."

It was how he died that surprised the jujutsu sorcerers.

A regretful-looking Black Bolt stepped forward, saying two words which eliminated Strange on the spot, "... I'm sorry." It echoed and echoed until the man was gone.

"Cursed Speech?" Megumi said out loud, stunned. "Like Inumaki-senpai?"

Gojo had already removed his blindfold, studying closely how 838-Strange had just... disintegrated. He shook his head at Megumi's comment, "It's similar to Toge-kun's ability, but also very different. Both are extremely powerful in their own rights, but Toge-kun's Cursed Speech... it also relies on the ability to command. This guy?" He pointed a thumb at Black Bolt. "This guy's voice is just plain destruction no matter what he says, it seems."

"Yeah. Even making a sound or grunting looks dangerous," Geto scrutinized, his eyes squinting.

"Thankfully, Inumaki-senpai can still speak in sushi ingredients, at least," Yuuji realized.

That was when multiple alarms began blaring outside. Loudly.

"The building's been breached," Reed stated the obvious, making Strange roll his eyes. All this useless talk made them lose precious time.

Now? You were coming.

"No shit, genius," the former neurosurgeon replied snarkily.

"Uh-oh," Yuuji felt shivers creep up his spine. "Mom... she must be here already."

"Status report on sentries!" Peggy ordered. Before them, several holograms displayed security footage at multiple angles of you, in your other self's body, breaking into the secure headquarters—practically multitasking with how many Ultron bots you were fighting and destroying in all directions. Oil covered you from head to toe, looking an awful lot like blood at first sight. The fact that it was only oil splattered across your face and clothes didn't make you any less terrifying.

"Stop where you are! Stop where you—"

Crash!

The Ultron bot was smashed.

"That is... wow," Gojo blinked, blindfold permanently removed and hanging on his neck now. He was gonna enjoy the feeling of not having oversensitive eyes since he didn't have his powers in this... memory realm of yours. "That is absolutely fucking terrifying and giving me Carrie vibes."

"Uh-huh. She's got Dracula, The Grudge, The Possession, and Carrie crossed off her list," Toji snorted, muscular arms crossed against his built chest. "Up next is what, Final Destination? The Conjuring? Evil Dead? I bet ya five thousand yen it's one of those and that a whole buncha' people are gonna die."

"... I bet you fifteen thousand yen it's all of those." It was Nanami, surprisingly, who made the remark. Everyone stared at the blonde ex-salaryman in shock. A huge grin appeared on the Sorcerer Killer's lips.

"Heh," Toji smirked. "Deal."

Gambling was always one of his vices no matter how unlucky he was.

Again, the jujutsu sorcerers got a good look at how well you actually incorporated physical combat with your magic. Hell, you even destroyed multiple bots in one go. Their last sight of you on footage was you with your arm outstretched with psionics, staring warningly into the eyes of an Ultron bot before crushing its head—losing all contact and sight of you once it did. The fact that they were Ultron bots, of all people, made you even more bitter. You only had terrible memories associated with the name. Terrible, terrible memories.

Perhaps it was why you were so vicious in tearing them apart.

Which was, ironically, what Ultron himself said that you would do to the Avengers of Earth-616. Look who's talking now.

"She's heading for the child," Maria said.

"Watch him. We'll vote on our return," Carter declared, she and the others immediately running out of the council room to give you a greeting. Only Mordo and Xavier were left with an exasperated Strange. He knew the Illuminati would be no match for you. Not without the Book of Vishanti.

"Stephen, should you manage to escape this chamber, you must guide America Chavez," Xavier suddenly declared when his fellow councilmen left. Hearing this, Mordo beside him was stunned.

"What the hell are you saying?"

"Save the girl and get to the Book of Vishanti," Professor X spoke.

"What? You have the book here?" Strange clarified.

"Yes, you built a waypoint," Charles answered kindly.

"Charles, we cannot trust him!" he exclaimed.

"I believe we can," Xavier smiled. Strange appreciated it. "Just because someone stumbles and loses their way doesn't mean they're lost forever."

At his statement, Gojo took a glance at the three men who exactly embodied what Professor X was describing.

Fushiguro Toji.

Geto Suguru.

Kamo Choso.

... You.

They didn't know how all this madness of yours was going to end, but they knew that whatever happened, it had consequently rippled down into a domino effect of you saving their lives and saving their world from the Culling Game.

"We will see what kind of Dr. Strange you are," Charles smiled, making Stephen nod appreciatively.

"Thank you."

Now the jujutsu sorcerers were looking at America and 838-Christine. Countless alarms were blaring in their ears, with more Ultron bots racing towards your location as explosions shook the building.

"Perimeter breakdown. All sentries engage. Intruder approaching," the bots repeated.

"Everybody out! Now!" Christine ordered to her colleagues and workers.

"It's Wanda," America realized in terror. You weren't gonna stop until you got her, huh? Immediately, Christine ran over to manually override America's biochamber restrictions. However, you seemed to already sense this, using your psionic energy to disrupt the communication technologies in the entire building.

"Ultron commands you to halt! Ultron commands you to halt!"

In the distance, they saw an Ultron sentry running into the explosion, only for its head to roll down the floor right after. You emerged from between two pillars, pulverizing the head with your powers without even looking at it.

"Shit, that one was personal against Ultron himself," Gojo whistled.

"Wait, has Mom been... barefoot all this time?" Yuuji blinked as you calmly marched your way into where America was.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry! She's coming!" America cried out, utterly scared for her life as she slammed her hands on the bulletproof glass. Your face was emotionless—you were here for one thing only and nothing was going to stop you.

Even if these people tried to.

A woman landed in front of you with her jetpack and... vibranium shield? They saw your head tilt slightly in curiosity and slight familiarity. Instead of the typical white star on it, it was the Union Flag on it... and the woman wielding it... she was that woman on Cap's compass... Steve's first love. What was her name again? Ah, yes. Peggy. Peggy Carter.

After her was a man in a black suit and... was that a fork on his head? You didn't have a clue who he was but you were pretty sure he would be a hindrance to your plans.

The next one who flew down from the ground. She was very much like that woman you fought alongside with against Thanos, based on her uniform and powers. Captain Marvel. But... she looked familiar, too. Somehow. She resembled... what was her name? The last woman you spoke to in Westview and helped you... Geraldine. No, Monica. Your briefly wondered who exactly the Captain Marvel in front of you was before pushing the thought to the back of your head.

You didn't care. All you needed were your boys.

The last man was a man dressed in tight, blue and black suit and a number four emblem on his chest. He appeared to be the leader, based on how he was positioned in front of everyone—looking like he was about to negotiate with you. Impatiently, you kept glaring at all of them.

"Wanda, stop," Reed appealed, voice level—calming and nice. "You've possessed an innocent woman but you can still do the right thing. Let her go." He stepped forward slowly, a hand subtly raising up. Suddenly, you felt like a dog or a bull that was to be tamed by its owner. It annoyed you. "Please. I have children of my own. I can understand your pain," he pled, not wishing for a fight.

The jujutsu sorcerers observed you, who seemed to be in deep thought. Your face was blank, void of any emotion that signaled what you were about to do. Then, you spoke words that made the blood freeze in their veins. "Is their mother still alive?" you asked in a hushed, low volume.

"... Yes," Reed replied. He felt that he was finally getting you to reason. That you would stop this madness.

He was wrong.

"Good. There will be someone left to raise them," you added chillingly, the neutral expression on your face making you even scarier.

"... Oh, shit," Suguru cursed, hearing your statement. He briefly wondered if it was him in Reed's place, telling you about his own daughters, then you just brushing off his condolences like that.

Reed sighed, then turned to his teammate. "Wanda. Black Bolt can destroy you with one whisper from his mouth." Right as he said it, the Inhuman King opened his mouth—no sounds, just a warning.

You only stared at him, unfazed. "... What mouth?"

And just like that, it was gone.

Like his mouth had never existed in the first place, only plain skin replacing where it used to be. They didn't even blink once—there were no mind tricks here. His mouth had vanished at your will. They gasped.

"Mmmph!" Panicking, Black Bolt touched his face, trying to feel his mouth—the greatest weapon he's ever possessed. He screamed, only for it to be muffled within him and consequently, explode his brains inside out. His head grotesquely deflated. Blood dripped from his nostrils as he crashed to the floor.

The jujutsu sorcerers who had seen the entire ordeal were frozen to their feet, flabbergasted and frightened. They couldn't understand it. Their brains couldn't even comprehend it.

"Wha—" Gojo's mouth was agape. So were the others. "She just—"

"She... She..." Geto pinched himself. Was he dreaming? No? What?

"... The actual fuck?" Toji cussed in disbelief.

You just made someone's mouth disappear, on a whim, right before their very eyes. Even in the jujutsu world, no one—or not anyone they knew of—could just... do that unless it was an illusion.

This was real. This was your reality-warping in action once again.

Next was Reed, who tried to attack you. But you ripped Mister Fantastic into shreds, using his stretchy abilities against him and tearing him apart until his head ballooned and popped. You didn't even look affected as you killed two of this Earth's so-called mightiest heroes in less than ten seconds. Without breaking so much of a sweat.

"Y/N just turned him into string cheese!" Gojo exclaimed. "What the hell?!"

"... I now wonder if this is even her true potential," Nanami murmured. The other sorcerers looked at him in question.

"What do you mean?" Geto asked.

"Since she's only dreamwalking and she's not in her own body," Kento explained his thought process. "It would make sense if there's some sort of restriction on her. A limitation."

"You mean to say that she's not at her full power yet? After doing all that?" Toji's eyes widened.

"Maybe. Just maybe," Nanami replied, turning back to your fight against the female members of thr Illuminati. "It's just my thoughts."

Your eyes flared red as Captain Marvel and Captain Carter engaged you ina 2v1 battle. One was throwing energy blasts at you while the other was throwing a vibranium shield. Debris and concrete were flying everywhere as you tossed statues at your opponents. However, as a result, dust had flown up into the air around you, obstructing your vision. Peggy used this as a window to tackle you down.

But you had also been trained by two of your world's fighters. Black Widow and Captain America—with your late best friend slash sister being much more ruthless than the latter, practically handing over the training she got from the Red Room to you.

(Perhaps you could be an honorary Black Widow at this point. Hell, technically, you were already a widow after Viz died, weren't you?)

You were able to swiftly roll back from being tackled, glaring at Captain Carter.

"Haven't you had enough?" you grit out to the woman.

"Oh, I could do this all day," Peggy replied confidently, spitting out blood from her mouth. Her reply made you recall the blonde friend you once had. Wherever he was now.

But right now you couldn't care less about them. None of them mattered. Only Billy and Tommy. With that, the jujutsu sorcerers watched you imbue your magic and psionics in your hand-to-hand combat, reminding them of that time you fought Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight. Yet this time, you weren't on the defensive.

This time, you were very much on the offensive.

"... Damn," Toji nodded, impressed as he observed your movements as you threw Captain Carter across the room. You had astounding reflexes and agility. "That was pretty badass."

Whirr!

Captain Carter threw her vibranium shield to you. With your psionics, you easily caught it and prevented its impact, instead swinging it back to her with much more force than she did.

Whirr—

It sliced her cleanly in half, exactly where her midsection was. She could only let out one small gasp of shock, her upper body and lower body falling to the floor—blood and organs spilling out. The light in her eyes instantly dimmed, crimson gurgling from her dead mouth. Her bloody, stained shield implanted itself to the wall behind her. You? You only stared at the body, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed—the only mixed reaction you've given to all the slaughter you caused.

For a moment, you thought about Steve. Just for a moment. It disappeared very quickly, the Darkhold's whispers of encouragement in your ear. You were very close to getting your children. Just a little more.

"... Holy shit," Gojo stared at the bifurcated cadaver in front of them, still so fresh. "She cut this lady in half with her own shield. Half! Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit."

"Fucking brutal," Toji muttered. "But I'm not one to judge." Sure, he's an assassin, but that was one real clean cut there and admittedly, one of the most savage methods to murder someone. Very... Final Destination.

"... I'd rather not stare at it," Nanami inwardly shuddered, turning to look at your thinking face, instead. He was already hiding a sick-looking Megumi behind him and a frightened Yuuji, too.

Your other enemy, Captain Marvel, emerged from the wall you'd tossed her in, blasting extremely concentrated energy at you. For a moment, they saw you in your original body, hair flying around and your face scrunched up in concentration as you released even more of your power in your alternate self's body. As a result, you began sucking in Captain Marvel's energy blast and her power, too, her uniform breaking and fading away.

"Raaaagh!" you yelled as you overpowered her, blowing her away to a large statue. You quickly used your psionics to wrap around the statue, pulling it down until it crashed onto Captain Marvel, appearing to kill her. You'd taken a lot of her power, after all. Maybe you'd rendered her useless, just like a normal human. Again, you didn't care. Not your priority.

"She's just slaughtering everyone who comes in her way," Choso spoke out, more and more shocked at getting to know the seemingly sweet woman he's known.

Meanwhile, Strange was purposefully riling up 838-Mordo, cunningly using the latter's anger to fight and get out of his restraints. (Honestly, it reminded them of how Gojo would piss enemies off, too. What was it with smartass genius sorcerers and their overly huge ego?)

Finally, you had arrived right behind where America was contained. She had punched a small hole into it, amazing Christine, but it wasn't enough to set her free. They gazed at you—barefoot, limping, bruised, bloodied, and covered in oil—in horror for what you were about to do next.

"Enough!" a voice called out.

You snarled, your hand glowing red once more at the person who dared interrupt your goals again. It was a bald man in a wheelchair. He raised his right hand to his temple and his left hand towards you.

Suddenly, it transported all of them—including the jujutsu sorcerers—into the mind of 838-Wanda. 838-You. They winced, seeing glimpses of you, the original one. You were screaming in pain, for the first time since Agatha, getting your mind forcefully invaded and broken in. It was shaking the dreamwalking connection, making you feel nauseous. Like a huge migraine or headache pummeling your head.

"Aaaaagh!" you wailed, eyes still shut.

"Mom! She's—" Yuuji gulped, looking at you in concern. The others had the same look, too. "She's in pain." Despite what he'd just seen you do, seeing your pained, crying face still hurt him. A lot. It always would.

Then, your original self vanished from view. And they found themselves in... somewhere. It was all white everywhere, except for a broken concrete structure and a single, standing door in the middle. It was completely silent, except for Charles's footsteps. The door creaked open. He entered it, the jujutsu sorcerers following curiously behind him. In front of them were a bunch of fallen debris, with some random knick-knacks here and there. On the bottom center was a pitch black hole.

"... Is that WandaVision playing on that TV over there?" Nanami asked, pointing.

"Oh. You're right. It is WandaVision," Gojo answered in wonder. "That 1950s-themed one in black and white, yeah? Where she was in a wedding dress?"

"Uh-huh," Megumi said, frowning. "I don't like this place. Really damn creepy."

"Creepier than any of your missions?" Geto asked.

"Yup."

Right as he answered, a hand shot out from the pitch black hole, making all of them flinch along with Charles.

"Shit. Thought it was going to be the Grudge Mirror Dimension all over again," Geto placed a hand over his beating heart.

"This is not good for my blood pressure," Toji scowled, cracking his neck.

"... Never knew you were such an old man," Gojo snickered, only for the black-haired middle-aged man to give him the finger in response.

"Help me. Please," 838-You whispered, trying to reach her hand out more from where she was stuck.

"Wanda Maximoff. Your mind is being held hostage by your alternate self," Professor X explained. At that moment, the debris over her began to teeter over, trapping 838-Wanda even further below.

"Uh-oh... again..." Yuuji said, concerned as sirens began ringing in the background.

"Grab my hand!" Charles ordered. "Perhaps, if I can pull you from under the rubble, the spell will break!" Panting, your other self was able to slightly squeeze her head out, but only until her shoulders. The rest of her body was still trapped.

"Hey... look," Megumi pointed behind them with wide eyes. They all pivoted backwards, seeing an ill-boding, crimson fog approaching them. Professor X froze. The blaring sirens turned into hushed, feminine whispers in Sokovian, chanting, echoing in their ears.

They saw a flash of your original body back in the Darkhold Castle, cold sweat on your forehead, with you looking... less lively than before while you regained control over your other self's mind.

838-You was terrifyingly pulled back into the darkness, like she was being dragged down to the pits of hell once more.

Scream!

Then, they all flinched as a pair of elongated, sharp talons with blackened tips wrapped around Charles's entire face. A monster with cracked, chalky skin, bloody red eyes and decayed, pointed teeth throughly ripped it open in two different directions.

Back in the research facility, Professor X's actual body slumped down lifelessly, blood dripping from his eyes. Your eyes dimmed down into their normal color as you stared coldly at the man's corpse. However, you then saw that Chavez and 838-Christine were gone. As they reunited with Dr. Strange, the jujutsu sorcerers stared at one another. Sukuna was the only one chuckling in amusement.

"Heh. This oughta be the best thing I've ever seen," the mouth on Yuuji's face grinned wide. "Heh!" It was confirmed in his head now. Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, saw you as his partner. His equal.

"... That... monster... was Mom, wasn't she?" Yuuji quietly asked, spooked as his eyes darted around skittishly.

"Yeah," Nanami answered somberly. This time, you did look like an actual cursed spirit—eyes, skin, teeth and claws. It only happened for what, five seconds? But the appalling image was imprinted in their heads.

"She snapped his neck?" Megumi clarified. His father shook his head, eyes narrowed.

"No. It looked like she did, but she didn't." He glanced at Megumi. "She ripped it open with her bare hands."

"Damn," Choso muttered.

Funnily enough, they were only speed-walking behind America, Stephen, and Christine as they searched for the waypoint to the Book of Vishanti. But when you—looking like a zombie—forcefully opened the metal doors that the trio had closed, angry red eyes staring into them, something inside them told them to run, too, even if this was the past.

It was a 6D experience, after all.

So when you blasted the storage room with your powers and a stray computer screen knocked Gojo over the head, they were shocked. They were lucky enough to not be harmed during the Battle of Kamar-Taj, but that was proof that anything happening here—in spite of it being in the past—could physically affect them.

"Oh shit! Satoru!" Geto cussed, dragging his best friend out of the way.

"What—" Gojo was shocked. Yes, he didn't have his powers, but he was affected.

"Sensei! Did it actually hit you!?" Yuuji exclaimed.

"Y-Yeah, holy crap..." Gojo blinked, rubbing his head as he processed what was happening. "Ow? That hurt. A lot." A rapidly-forming bruise on his skin was evidence that he had been hit.

"Then I think we should all run, too! Now!" Nanami shouted—for once, raising his voice in alarm as they stared at your terrifying form in the doorway. Right as he said that, Strange was warning America and Christine.

"Go! Go, go, go, go!" Stephen urgently yelled. The jujutsu sorcerers followed after them, running as fast as they could from you—even overtaking Chavez, Strange, and Christine.

When they looked behind their shoulders, you were there—bloodied, limping on one leg, stepping on broken glass shards and debris with no shoes, blasting away doors and blockages.

"I feel like I'm in a horror movie!" Yuuji cried out as he ran. "You know, being chased by a crazy killer in a stinky tunnel! I love Mom but crap, I really wanna pee right now!"

"Me too! Holy shit!" Gojo yelled. "I've seen too many fucking jumpscares today from Y/N!"

Christine was able to close a door before you could pass, though. They staggered to a stop, hearing only the drops of water from the river above them.

Drop. Drop. Drop.

"Why the fuck did we stop?" Toji whispered harshly. "Shouldn't we continue running?"

"Same thoughts," Geto muttered, listening intently for any sign of you.

"She's here. Somewhere. Probably gonna pop out of nowhere," Gojo said with a nervous frown. "So just keep your eyes peeled. She won't lose America so easily."

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

"Where did she go?" America whispered, scared.

Snarl!

You came out out of the shadows, the dim, flickering lights of the tunnel blinking over your red eyes.

"I swear, for a fucking moment, I saw that monster in her face," Gojo rubbed his eyes. "Not kidding. She looked a hella lot like Valak just now."

"... I saw it, too," Megumi swallowed quietly. "Her face... it was all cracked and decayed... and her teeth..."

"It was pointy. All of them," Choso murmured, watching you approach America.

"... So her appearance right now, it might be an illusion, too," Nanami deduced, moving back slowly with the others. "Her face might not be... well, as nice as we know it to be."

"The Darkhold's taken Y/N's pretty face, too? Well, shit," Geto snorted. However, when they looked at you now, it looks like you'd "fixed" your face to be normal again. "Thank God she destroyed the last one last time."

No wonder you were so good at fooling them you were an old woman when they first knew you. You could fix up your face, body, and surroundings any way you wanted.

"I warned you," you told Strange lowly.

"Other Wanda, if you're in there," Strange's hands lit up orange. "Hold your breath." He then proceeded to make river waters crash down on you, giving them time to run to the waypoint.

Fortunately, 616-Strange was able to open it. And it took them back to where Supreme Strange and America were first running from the Ribboned Creature. In the center was the shining Book of Vishanti. They all jumped down into the Gap Junction, the Space Between Universes.

"Really shiny up close, isn't it?" Gojo whispered in awe.

"Yeah," Geto and the others exhaled.

"Give me what I need," Strange murmured, taking the Book of Vishanti carefully from its seat.

"I think we're forgetting something," Yuuji scratched his head.

Their eyes widened. "They didn't close the damn door!" Nanami yelled and turned around, only for America to be literally dragged by the hair with red magic.

"It wouldn't have made much of a difference!" Gojo argued, eyes wide. "She can blast it open anyway!"

You were extremely pissed from being drenched in river water. This had to end now.

Christine cried out, running to America, only for Strange to stop her and protectively place a hand in front of her. Strange fired a blast of Eldritch magic at you, only for you to absorb it with your free hand and deflect it back to him and Christine, sweeping them off their feets. Tragically, the backlash also hit the Book of Vishanti, burning it to ash.

"Shit!" the jujutsu sorcerers cussed, ducking to avoid the violent blast.

You lifted America's struggling form from the ground with one hand, annoyed. Instantly, you took over her mind—as evidenced by her eyes glowing blue and her going limp. You manipulated it to open a random dimension in the Multiverse, using your magic to restrict Christine and Strange then toss them into the portal.

Wasting no time, you once more controlled America's mind to open a portal to your original universe. And there it was. Your own body, sitting cross-legged in the air, surrounded by sanguine wisps allowing you to dreamwalk. With a dark smile on your face—now that you were finally getting what you wanted—you tossed America into the portal. Then, in your original body, you opened your eyes—ceasing the dreamwalking spell.

As the portal slowly closed, the jujutsu sorcerers ran to the other side where original you was. And their last vision was 838-Wanda falling to her knees tiredly, finally in control of her own body, no matter how battered you caused it to be.

"My boys..." 838-You mumbled worriedly, levitating back to the entrance of the waypoint to the Gap Junction.

Behind the terrified America, the anxious jujutsu sorcerers watched as you wordlessly stared at the girl as you stepped closer, like you were wondering what to do next.

"... She looks different," Megumi pointed out, squinting. "The same, but really different?"

"Mom looks... sick," Yuuji frowned. He's frowned probably more than a hundred times today, seeing how your life played out.

"Yeah. It's the crazy look in her eyes," Gojo answered quietly, noticing the darkened bags around your eyes and that your skin tone had become ashier—like the Darkhold was physically (and mentally) making you ill. Your hair was wilder, messier.

You truly did look insane. Even the way you were staring at America, like she was some sort of prey; it wasn't like the normal you.

"The isn't what your children would want!" America weakly told you, only for you to ruthlessly throw her onto the sacrificial altar of the Darkhold Castle and pin her down. You circled her like a predator, the jujutsu sorcerers watching uneasily. You stopped right behind America's head, your blackened fingers mindlessly stroking the cool stone of the altar. You gave America an emotionless smile.

"They'll never know," you replied offhandedly, sending chills down their spines.

"Maybe not," America shot back. "But you will."

For a few seconds, you appeared to contemplate your whole decision. Like a glimpse of your kinder, uncorrupted self had shone through. Then, the scene rapidly changed to Strange and Christine, who had become stuck in a bleak universe where an Incursion had happened. They met... other, other Strange... who seemed a lot more sinister than all the other Strange variants they'd met. He had a longer beard, and his skin—ashy and pale, almost lifeless, like yours. This... Sinister Strange possessed a Darkhold.

"Careful. The Darkhold exacts a heavy toll," Sinister Strange declared, refusing to give 616-Strange the Book of the Damned. His words resonated through the jujutsu sorcerers, remembering how much you had changed. "Not just on its reality, but on its reader."

Eventually, the whole conversation took a dark turn, with a third eye ominously appearing on Sinister Strange's forehead.

"Ew. Reminds me of that damned Prison Realm," Gojo cringed as the two Stephens broke out into a fight made out of musical notes. It ended with Sinister Strange falling off the Sanctum, dying when he fell through the pointed entrance gates.

Then, they were momentarily back at the Darkhold Castle, seeing Wong suprisingly alive and trying to climb up. On the other hand, you had spread your arms to the side, beginning to siphon America's powers from her body. She screamed in agony as your hands and the sacrificial altar below her glowed crimson.

Strange, now holding the Darkhold, was attempting to execute the dreamwalking spell with the help of Christine.

"While I'm under, I need you to protect my body in case they attack me for trespassing," Stephen disclosed.

"Who's they?" Christine and the jujutsu sorcerers chorused.

"The souls of the damned." With that, Stephen summoned multiple candles from around the Sanctum, beginning to dreamwalk.

"Okay...? But doesn't a version of you have to live in that universe so that you can dreamwalk into them?" 838-Christine asked, confused.

Stephen peeked an eye open, "Who said they had to be living?"

That was when the jujutsu sorcerers found themselves where Supreme Strange was buried. Thunder rumbled from around them. His hand shot out as he rose from the ground, bones cracking as he opened a portal to Mount Wundagore. This time, it was Geto who was severely disturbed.

"I don't... like this," he muttered, looking away instead as he briefly recalled what Kenjaku had done to him. Up to this day, he still felt violated. Possessing a dead man's body? Yeah. He didn't have the greatest experience with that.

And the jujutsu sorcerers were back in Mount Wundagore, shivering in the icy cold. However, from Supreme Strange's corpse emerged dark, skeleton-like spirits.

"Stephen Strange!" they snarled, attacking him. "Possessing a dead body is forbidden!"

"Forbidden!"

"Trespasser! Trespasser! Trespasser!"

"Cease your dreamwalk, or face the eternal consequences!"

Weirdly enough, three of the spirits turned to them, making the hairs on their skins rise. The three approached them, hissing. "Trespassers! Trespassers!"

"Into the wretched memories of the Scarlet Witch!"

"How shameful!"

"How deplorable!"

"Sinners, sinners, sinners! All of you, who destroy the cursed!"

They were stunned. No beings in your memories had ever interacted with them. Yes, they experienced everything with their senses, but this? This was new. And were they... talking about cursed spirits? Were the souls of the damned cursed spirits, too? Vengeful ones?

Thankfully, before the souls of the damned could do any harm, Stephen was able to overpower them with Christine's help, using them as makeshift wings. They were all transported to the Darkhold Castle. Your head snapped towards Strange, stopping the ritual to get America's power.

"Dreamwalking, you hypocrite!" you screamed. Scornfully, you threw a blast of Chaos Magic at him, only for the souls of the damned to eat it up like dinner. You threw another blast at him, but he dodged it, directing the souls to you. They swarmed at you like bees, chanting and cackling. And for once, it was you who was frightened and wide-eyed, caught like a deer in headlights.

"Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!"

"Those things are scary," Yuuji winced, seeing as Wong restricted you in another magical ball along with the souls of the damned. "Kinda feel sorry for Mom."

Strange set America free, encouraging her that there was only one way to defeat you. At that same moment, you released a powerful blast of energy, escaping the souls and the magic restriction you were in. You paced towards Strange, throwing a ball of Chaos Magic at him, which dissolved his dead body like acid.

Well, at least until a roaring America Chavez landed a solid punch at you, creating shockwaves all over Mount Wundagore.

"Damn, that kid packs a punch," Gojo and the others were impressed.

"I'm even more shocked Y/N's still standing after that," Toji added. "Her durability's out of this world."

America stared at her fist in shock, then looked up at you confidently, "Uh-huh."

You were cradling your jaw, mania in your eyes as you madly smiled back, panting, "Mmmhmm—agh!"

America landed three more punches and a kick to your stomach, opening a portal that nearly made you fall into the boiling, lava-filled pits of Hel. Yes, Hel.

"I'm amazed by how durable she is but now Y/N really looks like she escaped from a mental asylum," Geto commented, arms crossed. "She looks insane! And not in a good way!"

"... Huh. It looks like Vecna's lair behind her," Yuuji pointed to the portal, shrugging. "Just saying."

Balancing yourself once more, you slowly—terrifyingly—turned back to America, a murderous glare in your eyes as you stopped being the punching bag. If looks could kill, America would've been dead long ago. You overpowered the girl, blocking her punch with your magic. The portal to Hel closed.

"I can't beat you," America realized, then closing her hand into a fist. "So I'll give you what you want." With that, she landed another strong punch at you, opening a portal. The jujutsu sorcerers watched, aghast as you lifted America by the neck with one hand, strangling her.

Just like what Agatha did to your Billy and Tommy.

Just like what Thanos did to Vision.

Unbeknowst to you, you had become the very thing you hated. The very person you despised.

The jujutsu sorcerers, on the other hand, witnessed your downfall. All of it.

"What was the saying?" Gojo murmured, remembering how you faded into dust during The Snap. "You either die a hero..."

"... Or live long enough to become the villain," Geto finished, looking at his surroundings. At the same time, you realized where you were. And you saw your boys, sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating popcorn peacefully.

"Billy... Tommy..." you breathed, only for them to scream in fear at the sight of you.

"Mommy! It's the witch!" the twins screamed, dropping their bowl of popcorn and running over the sofa.

"What. Have. You. Done," you hissed to America, tightening your hold on her neck as your hair flew wildly around your head.

"Damn, Y/N, this isn't you," Gojo muttered, shaking his head.

"Mom!" the twins shouted as your other self came running down the stairs, all washed up and changed into new clothes, but still scratched and bruised. She moved in front of the twins protectively, one hand glowing red, but it was clear she hadn't mastered her powers and didn't use them very much, judging by the terror and apprehension painted on her face. Her powers were primitive in comparison to yours.

"Wait! Boys!" you cried out desperately.

"It's okay, it's okay," 838-You assured them.

"I'M YOUR MOTHER!" you asserted viciously, chucking the couch to the wall. "Get away from them!" You then proceeded to fling your other self to the corner, making the jujutsu sorcerers wince at your cruelty. Other you screamed as she was thrown into a cabinet of books. She fell roughly to the floor.

"... That's how delusional she's become from the Darkhold?" Choso blinked, feeling pity for your variant. She's been through much over the past day.

Seeing what you did to their mom, 838-Billy and 838-Tommy ran down the stairs, hurling toys and multiple items at you. "Mommy! Get away from our mom!"

You blocked their throws with your arms, trying to appease and calm them with a gentler tone, "Hey—boys—stop!"

"You're not our real mom!"

"Please—please—"

"Get out of our house!"

"Wait, boys, stop it—"

"You're not our mom! Get out! Go away!"

It was when they threw a whole scooter at you that your patience snapped.

"STOP IT!" you screeched in a shrill, earsplitting volume, eyes hysterical. They all flinched in fear. Even the jujutsu sorcerers grew silent. They'd never seen you scream like that before.

Afraid, the twins retreated to the opposite side of the staircase. Slowly, with a joyful smile, you approached them, reaching out to touch their faces with your very hands after so, so long.

"Please don't hurt us," Tommy begged.

"Please," Billy sniffled, scared for himself and his brother.

Their words made you freeze in your spot. "... I would never hurt you," you assured them in a whisper, shaking your head. "Never." A single tear dropped to your cheek. "I would never hurt anyone. I'm not a monster."

Slowly, their young, terrified eyes peeked behind you, looking at their beaten, whimpering mother. Their eyes turned back to you, telling you it was a lie.

It was all a lie.

And everything came crashing down to you in realization, their gazes harsh as you slowly detached yourself from the influence of the Darkhold.

Murderer. That was what the souls of the damned labeled you as.

Monster. That was what these children saw you as.

And they were right.

"I'm—" you stammered, stepping back from Billy and Tommy. The jujutsu sorcerers watched as your pale, chapped lips began to tremble, more tears falling down your cheeks.

Oh, God. What have you done?

"... I-I'm sorry," you barely choked out, shaking as you placed a hand over your mouth. Other you tried to get up, only for her to stumble down helplessly. She was too injured and exhausted.

"Mom!" Billy and Tommy ran to her. Not you. "Are you okay!?"

"Hi! Hi!" she breathed out, touching their faces. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

Those were the exact same words you told your Billy and Tommy when they were running to you when you closed the hole in Westview during the fight against Agatha. To save them. And their father.

Seeing this, you sobbed, a hand over your stomach. Empty. Void of your children. Your twins. Your babies. To everyone else, it wasn't real. But to you? It was real. It was real to you.

The jujutsu sorcerers watched as you fell to your knees, crying at the familiar yet different sight.

"How long has it been since WandaVision?" Geto asked the others, crestfallen seeing you.

"A few months, perhaps? Maybe a year?" Nanami answered mournfully.

"You think... you think that maybe, Y/N had postpartum depression?" Suguru murmured.

"... Yeah. Likely," Toji replied, gazing at your kneeling form, clutching your stomach.

"Then she's no different to all the mothers in Japan who've lost a child," Nanami said. "And out of grief, brought to life cursed spirits." It wasn't uncommon. They'd exorcised many cursed spirits like that. Miscarriages, stillbirths... a mother's pain and suffering was unlike any other.

"... What is grief, if not love persevering?" Choso repeated to himself the words your late husband said to you.

"Unfortunately, love is the most twisted curse of them all, neh, Gojo-sensei?" Yuuji wiped his tears, sniffing at seeing you cry.

Gojo was quiet for a few moments, "... Yeah. It is."

All this madness and chaos, born out of your love. You had so much of it to share and spare, yet received none because all your loved ones were gone. The Scarlet Witch, born and forged, was just like a cursed spirit.

And your curse? It was love.

Your alternate self stood up, cautiously approaching you. The twins tried to stop her, but she assured them it was fine. You couldn't find it in yourself to look at her out of guilt and shame. You'd wrecked her world, her home, and her own body. It was unforgivable.

Then, she reached out to you, touching your cheek. Who else was there to comfort you... but you?

"It's okay," the jujutsu sorcerers heard from around them. It was your voice—no, it was your variant speaking to you. Telepathically. "I've had nightmares... over past few weeks... but they're not nightmares, are they?"

You slowly opened your teary eyes to look at your other self, so same, yet so different.

"They were your life. What you'd lived. What you've gone through," she told you mentally. Mirthlessly. "And while I was having those nightmares, you were having dreams. Dreams of my life. What I've lived. And all the happiness that was unfairly stolen from you. While you were possessing me, I also saw what you've seen from our other alternate selves. Their happy lives, too. I can't imagine how much pain you're in, being the only one who's gone through so much. The only one who's been deprived of a loving life."

You were silent, staring at her sadly.

"I'm sorry. For everything you've had to endure alone—" she murmured in your mind, her warm hand calming you. "Mother. Father. Pietro. Vision. Billy. Tommy."

You pursed your lips, tears welling in your eyes once more.

"I forgive you," she whispered. You stared at her—so good and kind. Capable of forgiveness. What you once were before you became... this. Then, finally, she spoke out loud as she removed her hand from your cheek. "Know that they'll be loved," she announced, reading your mind. Your only question to her. Your only wish—telling her to take care of them.

From the sidelines, listening and watching, some of them had silent tears fall down their faces. It was a painful goodbye, just like the one you had with Vision and your children. This time, you had to let go. Again. America closed the portal, bringing you back to the Darkhold Castle. You cried, knowing what you had to do next. You levitated towarda the sacrificial altar, kneeling down, hands glowing a misty, reddish-black. This time, you would be the sacrifice. Then, they saw in your face, the same exact expression you had when Thanos snapped his fingers.

Staring up at the sky hopelessly, waiting for death to come and take you once and for more. But as much as you wanted to, your Chaos Magic wouldn't allow you to die.

Not when you were the Scarlet Witch.

The Darkhold Castle began shaking. You allowed America and Wong to return to Kamar-Taj, leaving you alone with Stephen, who was still dreamwalking in his other self's corpse. They saw you slowly turn to him, repentant. This time, it was sincere, unlike that time in the apple orchard.

"I opened the Darkhold," you whispered regretfully. "I have to close it. No one will ever be tempted by the Darkhold again."

Strange slowly nodded at you. And inwardly, he was right about you. He knew that deep inside, you were a good person. Just hurt and lonely. He knew that as always, you would set things right in the end. And he never doubted that. Just because one has stumbled and lost his way doesn't mean that they're lost forever. Professor X told him that. And it looks like you were able to read his mind.

With your powers, you made the Darkhold fall, taking it down with you in it. Before they could be hit, the jujutsu sorcerers were suddenly teleported afar to a cliff overlooking the crumbling castle, their last sight of you being a blast of red.

"Mom—" Yuuji whispered worriedly. Suddenly, they were with 838-Christine and Strange. The former neurosurgeon woke the unconscious woman up.

"... Is it over?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Is America okay?"

"She's on her way to get us."

Christine swallowed, "... Wanda?"

The jujutsu sorcerers' ears perked up. Strange, sadly, shook his head. "No." At that moment, though, the Darkhold beside them burned into ash from red flames.

"So she destroyed the Darkhold in every universe," Strange realized.

"She did the right thing," Christine smiled.

"Yes. She did." Strange smiled back.

The consequent scenes they were seeing now all seemed glitchy, but then they saw you—in another universe—destroy the knowledge and contents of the Darkhold. You absorbed the entity chained in the main Darkhold: Chthon, the primordial god of chaos. Somewhat like Cthulhu. A Lovecraftian beast.

"You do not possess me, Chthon," they heard your voice declare as you absorbed the god. "I possess you."

None of them knew that something was chained and sealed within you—something that that ancient and dangerous. It was almost ironic: like mother, like son. Chthon was sealed within you while Sukuna was stuck inside Yuuji.

Then they saw snippets of you with Agatha... then Loki... and other individuals. The glitchy flashbacks with you ended when a hole appeared in the now-empty space they were in... and a feminine hand dragged them out one by one.

Thankfully, it didn't have talons or crooked fingers. They knew it was you who'd come to save them.

The sorcerers were back in their world; in your living room, specifically. You—the present you they knew as Y/N L/N—were staring at them with an unreadable expression. Were you angry? Were you pissed? Were you sad?

"... I'm not angry," you told them all quietly, reading their thoughts and everything they'd seen. "You've seen it all. What I've done." You chewed your lips, suddenly averting your gaze. "But what matters is that you're all okay and in one piece. Whatever... spell Agatha put in that flash drive had gone bonkers and dragged you all into it." They were silent as they stared at you, still processing those last few scenes of you they were able to see. "I'm sorry—"

Ding dong!

Your doorbell rang. Sighing, you walked away from the jujutsu sorcerers and opened the doors (thankfully, you'd magicked up the heater and everything else in the house before dragging the boys out of the television screen). You blinked at the person at the door, wrapped in lots of thick layers but still shivering from the blizzard outside. Did he... travel all the way from the grocery shop to here?

"You... uh... d-dropped y-y-your keys," Higuruma stammered from how freezing it was outside. He handed you your keys. Wide-eyed, you immediately let him in, worried about how long he's been in the cold.

That was when he saw the guys in your living room, all scrutinizing him and wondering who he was and how he knew you.

"Who the hell are you?" It was Sukuna who spoke... as a mouth... on Yuuji's cheek. He wasn't supposed to hear or see anything since he wasn't a sorcerer, but the jujutsu sorcerers were only shocked when he tilted his head at Yuuji in question.

"Attorney Higuruma Hiromi," he introduced himself, unintimidated by all these men glaring at him. He's had worse, facing criminals and all. And right, he also sees those weird spirit thingies. He always has since he was a kid. In the corner, you sighed, leading Higuruma to the kitchen to offer him something warm to drink. You popped your head back into the living room, eyes boring into the speechless jujutsu sorcerers.

"I'll talk to you boys later."

At least they were back home again...?

(to be continued)

Author's Note: Hi, everyone! It's been a while! Sorry for being gone for so long and being inactive, even in answering my asks. Thank you also for your patience. After my very draining and somewhat hectic slash traumatic semester last June, my body basically took a break. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. All I did was rest, do nothing, and catch up on sleep for a month or so. I also went home to visit my dad, spending time with my family and looking for other ways to earn extra income from other gigs because I need to save up on allowance. Then... after that and currently, I'm working on my thesis because dang, I'm halfway through college now! Wow! Still, I tried my best to really write the entire DSMOM2 accurately inbetween my short breaks—so that was almost 2 hours of dialogue plus brainstorming for the JJK men's reactions. I hope you understand! And thank you all so much for your overwhelming support! I can't promise when the next updates will be, because time flies so fast and I'll have to move away from home, into a dorm, in less than a month since my 3rd year of uni begins again. It's hella stressful, but I'm 2 years away from graduating as a speech-language therapist! 🙏🥰

[TL ; DR: Got burnt out from school, took a vacation and mental health break + social media detox, gonna become a junior college student soon, could really use some extra money from writing these fics. I love writing and it's emotionally fulfilling, but physically and time-wise, really exhausting. 😅]

If you can and wish to, please support me on my Ko-Fi here! Thank you so much to whoever would like to help me out more even if writing is just my hobby! I'd appreciate it a lot. ☕️

Reblogs, comments, hearts, constructive criticism, and any kind of interaction are much welcome! Thank you for 1100+ notes on this fic. I've never imagined it would get so far. I'm hoping to publish it on AO3 if I find time. Also, I would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter and even just the DSMOM2 film! See you next time! And please don't spam my inbox about when the next chapter will come out. You can ask, but a reminder to please ask nicely and don't be demanding! 🤨‼️

(For the taglist, I'll try to keep up with all the requests to be added but I've kinda lost track, hehe. Just comment in this chapter if I forgot to add you or you would want to be added or if you've updated your name/URL. 💗)

taglist: @vampireindistress @sparklingmallow @gummy-dummy @haleypearce @artemishunter18 @torasshu-sama @thewordfae @nanamin-pointo @whoreuc @simpinsimpleton @sache41 @osiris1rhi @crzyinluve @dame-sunflowers @thirstyfangirl @yuh-tears @vespertio @butyfigers @fiona782 @t-misaki @jihaegguk @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @beeframon @simpforporcoandlevi @unkn0wn2024 @dibhachu @todaywasafairytale07 @vishousmate @tangoogle @lyralibra @fleurwritesitsblossom @deviljoonie @pearlstiare @moss-murin @surhii @senjuasuna @njisano @marbleii @sheitsme @kiyosato @moonchild-artemisdaughter @shadowyknightbeargoth @yuki-chan23 @akuri-shinsou @tellatoast @nako-ley @depresso-404error @siriusblackrunmeover17 @lovely-maryj

@tojidilfs @ikisstoga @sleepydang @fall-myriad @friedtyrantthing @bl6o6dy @fandomfangirl006 @lovely-maryj @marycarabell @bealiz13 @lowilaufeyson @eva-616

[butwhatifidothis]

I'm honestly 1 straw away from barging into the comments section of the fic to rip cap a new one after reading your notes on the latest chapter. This is DISGUSTING. Imaging telling a genocide survivor it's their fault because they didn't do their responsibilities.

Along with the racism, sexism, and ableism. I think it's safe to say that Cap isn't just a bad writer but an asshole too. Because not once when writing this did he ever think "hey this may not be ok to write". I feel that he genuinely believes this stuff deep down.

Honestly I welcome the day the internet rips this fic apart.

(sorry if this may be harsh. I just love the lettuce fam alot and seeing this stuff be written down knowing how popular this fic is and how it's seen as cannon to many just fills me with rage)

Different nonnie: You know, I mostly just roll my eyes at the fic and enjoy the commentary. The fic rarely makes me truly angry. But WHAT THE FUCK.

Different nonnie: I could not even read through that last part with your notes. I’m just disgusted. Remember kiddies! If someone would rather protect their family than grovel at your feet they are irredeemable.

Lemme preface this with saying that I still don't condone going to the fic and leaving disparaging comments, and that I still try to maintain that since I don’t know Cap'n irl I can't make any sound moral judgements of his actual character.

What I can say with confidence, however, is that at the very least, his writing - intentionally or not - is some of the most genuinely morally repugnant I've seen written in a fanfiction that wasn't deliberately meant to be such (like in a dark!fic). The constant and consistent victim blaming of literal genocide survivors that not only never goes away, but will go on to somehow get even worse, is some of the most uncomfortable I've ever been reading a fic. And not because it was meant to make me feel that way, but precisely because it wasn't.

That anyone - let alone multiple people - can sit there with their full chests and say "yeah, genocide was kinda cringe, but the survivors of the genocide didn't react in the way that most benefited the race that genocided them! They didn't consider how their actions would affect specifically the protagonist and her friends when they made their choices a thousand years before these people were born! And really, maybe they had it coming with how they must have mistreated humans beforehand! Really, they're no better than the people that genocided them!" and mean that, in a positive connotation is just. Disgusting? Let's go with that. It's very disgusting.

And also, just. There’s like. A very strange and manipulative theme of “ignoring/shitting on someone until/unless they can be used to make yourself look better” that goes on from Woobiegard’s side of things. Sylvain’s suffering and his reaction to it as he sets off to kill his own older brother on the orders of his own father? Treated as an inconvenience to Woobiegard, until it can be used to distract from Dimitri’s rightful criticism of Woobiegard. Ingrid's father? Repeatedly and unendingly called misogynistic, awful, verbally abusive, until he can be used against Seteth, because Ingrid is “a daughter” and thus Seteth fighting against her to protect his own daughter is somehow hypocritical. Like liege like knight, I guess.

And just. The whole “If you REALLY cared about Rhea you’d stay by her side no matter what!” mentality is just. It says so much about the fic’s narrative. No, Seteth, actually, you should have endangered the life of your only daughter, because otherwise you aren’t completely and utterly loyal to your sister and thus you don’t actually care about your family. No, Byleth, actually, you should always stay by Woobiegard no matter what she does to you or your friends or to Fodlan, because otherwise you failed her and don’t deserve her love and you have to keep earning her love (ohhh ho ho can’t wait for THOSE notes to drop lmao). No, Black Eagles, actually, you should always center the world around you and your problems to the exclusion of everyone else, because otherwise you will all become emotionless husks who are all incapable of caring and loving yourselves. There’s this unnerving theme of absolutism, a completely stark black-and-white “if x then y” cause-and-effect where if you don’t do this morally questionable thing that has been presented as the One Good Moral Option With No Nuance Whatsoever, then you will suffer immensely with no question or way to stop it.

Like, this fic has had a lot - a lot - of problematic elements to it, but it’s when the Nabateans get involved that things take a nosedive. The racism goes from something that could be picked up but possibly explained away to “yeah no Woobiegard is feeling rage and disgust just from looking at Flayn explicitly because she is a Nabatean.” The victim blaming is ramped up to 11 billion, straight up saying that genocide survivors are on par with the people who committed genocide against them because Marianne Was Sad Too Once (because her ancestor was one of the people who directly benefited from said genocide and rightfully got fucked for doing so). Misandry is just straight up a character trait at this point, repeatedly physically assaulting Seteth whenever he dares step out of Ingrid’s line (and he’s not the only man who’s gotten or will get this sort of treatment - remember, in Chapter 36 Ingrid also threatened to use Luin against Sculptor Guy because he made her Mad and nothing else - but he’s the one where it’s portrayed as the most righteous that it happens). 

If this were intentional, I’d applaud the fic for steadily building the moral bankruptcy from something that could maybe possibly be explained away if you’re being really generous (and/or naïve) to outright and blatant racism, sexism, religiophobia, etc. etc., because watching this shit slowly get worse and worse until the crescendo of “these genocide survivors are no better than their genociders,” “physically assaulting men who step out of women’s lines is morally righteous,” “looking at someone and feeling disgust and hatred due to them being a certain race is understandable because their race as a whole is to blame for the world’s problems” is like. Such an unnerving thing to read. But it. It like. Wasn’t intentional though. Everyone doing the horrific things is treated as a paragon of morality and goodness and righteousness, and their victims painted as their abusers, and it’s like. Played completely straight. So it’s like. Yeah I can definitely understand the anger

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter six: "I don't know everything, despite the fact you think that I do"

My gif

Word count: 12,6K

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drug use, drug detox, physical violence. Spencer being a jerk.

Summary: (Y/N) had enough of Spencer's attitude and plans an intervention on her own.

A/N: Hello! how are you? how's your week going? my life is a mess and I'm fighting with a lot of anxiety and stress after the month I spent with my grandparents, so I've been taking everything with calm in the latest days. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Spencer is... and then reader... ok, read it, and see you in the comments! Stay safe, kids!!!

Series Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

───※ ·❆· ※───

(Y/N)'s point of view

After New Orleans, I thought things were starting to get a little better. For a few days, Spencer was a lot like himself again. It was refreshing and exciting. He smiled. He even looked like he had slept. And he wasn't rude. Not at first. Not until that Friday.

- "Hey, pretty girl"- Morgan appeared next to my desk and tapped on the pile of files I was working on- Got any plans for tonight?

- "I was actually going to meet my boyfriend. Why? What do you have in mind?"

Yes. Paul and I had a date, 'cos I hadn't seen him in two weeks. We had spent San Valentine's apart, 'cos we were out on a case. And I barely noticed it. I didn't have my hopes high for that night, though. Maybe pizza, a movie... I didn't feel like having sex, even when it had been over a month since we had done it.

- "I'm clubbing tonight, and I know you are a party girl. So, do you wanna come with me?"

- "As tempting as it sounds, I pass"- I smiled at my friend and shook my head- "All I can do today is have a quiet evening, eat something, watch a movie and then call it a day."

- "Are you sure? 'cos Emily is on board, and you two are my party sidekicks."- I chuckled and kept shaking my head- "Ok, alright. You lose. What about you, pretty boy?"

Spencer had been awfully quiet that whole afternoon. He was buried in his paperwork and only moved from his seat to get coffee.

- "Reid? are you listening?"- Morgan waved until he got his attention. But Spencer apparently didn't want to talk- "Hello? Earth to Reid."

- "What the hell do you want?"- I brought up my eyes to my best friend, 'cos his voice was as annoyed as rude.

- "Hey, hey, slow down, kid. What's your problem?"

- "I'm trying to work, and you don't let me! That's my problem!"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and took a deep break.

- "Ok, my bad."

Spencer glued his eyes on his files again, and I kept looking at him closely for a minute. He was fidgety on his chair. He kept scratching his arms, and he had flipped from human to whatever he was when he yelled at Morgan in a blink.

Of course, shit wasn't over yet.

- "Hey, do you want a ride home?"- I asked him and stood by his desk on my way out. He was getting ready to leave too.

- "I can take the subway on my own"- he talked to me like I was insulting him- "And I don't wanna get in the way of your fake date,"- he grumbled and put on his coat

- "Sorry, what?"- I wasn't sure I had gotten that right.

- "Yeah, you have a date with your boyfriend, and I don't want to get in the way."

- "What are you talking about, Reid?"- I couldn't believe his words. He was acting like a jerk.

- "You know, I don't get it"- he was mad. Furious. And he snapped in front of me, out of the blue- "Why are you still dating that jerk if you don't even love him? does he fuck you that good?"

I could see from the corner of my eye how every head in the bullpen turned to us. I looked at my best friend in the eyes and didn't say a word. I just nodded and grabbed my purse.

- "Enjoy your weekend, Reid."

I knew I didn't have to take those words personally. Spencer wasn't himself. But I was growing tired of justifying him in front of the team and myself. It was time for the big guns.

I tried to ease my mind that night, preparing myself for what I knew I had to do the next day. But I couldn't shake Reid from my thoughts. I needed to know what he was doing if he had dinner. If he was able to sleep. Shit! I needed to know if he was getting high all alone in his apartment.

What if he overdosed? What if he just decided to go a little further and his body couldn't resist it? He was too skinny. He wasn't eating correctly. Shit! He could die.

- "Hey, babe. Are you ok?"- Paul asked me all of a sudden. He was kissing my neck and trying to get under my shirt, and I wasn't even moving. I was thinking about Reid and how to help him. And meanwhile, my boyfriend was trying to have sex with me.

- "Sorry, what?"- I know, that wasn't a good answer.

- "Are you even here?"- he sighed and let me go- "Let me guess, you are thinking about a case."

- "No, I'm just worried about Reid."

I know. That wasn't a good answer either, considering Paul's angry face as soon as he heard his name. Paul hated Reid. Ok, Paul hated every single one of my friends, but he despised Spencer. He would almost see him as his sworn enemy, and they had seen each other in person twice in over a year.

- "Now you think about that nerd when we are making out?!"

- "What?! No! that's not what I meant!"- I tried to explain, but it was clear that wasn't going to work- "He is going through a tough time after the abduction and..."

- "Yeah, yeah"- he cut me off and stood up- "Everything about Spencer is more important than me! I don't wanna hear that shitty and sad kidnap story again!"

- "I'm just trying to say I am worried about him!"- I stood up and followed him around the apartment.

- "You are always worried about him!"

- "He is my friend. He is in pain!"

- "And what about me?! Do you even care about me?!"

- "Sure! of course, I do!"

I knew that was it all of a sudden. I didn't even want to argue with Paul, and neither explain to him how much I needed to help Reid. So I didn't say a word. I only stood in front of him. He brought up his eyes to me and sighed. It took him a few seconds to gather the courage to say what he wanted to say. But when he did, it wasn't good.

- "You are in love with him, aren't you?"

His question made my blood boil. I hated he made such a presumption only because I was worried about Spencer. I loved him, sure, but because he was my best friend. I was with him all day, every day. I saw him more than my own family. More than Lu, Mikey, or Frank. And I knew Reid was in pain and in real danger. Of course, Spencer was my priority.

- "No, Paul. I am not in love with him."- I looked right into his eyes and tried to make my point clear- "He is going through a shitty situation, and I wanna help him. That's all."

- "And do you love me?"

He had never asked me that before. We haven't talked about "love" in the whole year and a half we had been together. And, to be honest, I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to hurt him either, but it was the end of the line, and we both knew it.

- "Paul..."

- "That's a no,"- he said and folded his arms across his chest- "If you don't love me, why are you with me?"

- "Do you love me?"

- "Of course, I do!"- I raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a second - "Don't profile me!"

- "I'm not profiling you. I'm just sure you don't! And that's ok. Paul, we... This is not a relationship. It's two lonely persons holding onto something that didn't work."

We just stared at each other and didn't say a word for what seemed to be for ages.

- "Despite what you might think, I know you, (Y/N)"- he took a step closer to me and kissed my forehead- "And I know you love him."

- "Paul, I really don't. He is my friend, and I'm worried about him"- he simply nodded and sighed.

- "Sure thing. Take care"- started walking to the door and never looked back.

I stood alone in the middle of my apartment. That was it. The easiest breakup because neither of us was in love. And yet, I felt empty and sad. Tears started falling down my cheeks, and I didn't notice them until I was sobbing.

I wasn't sad I had lost Paul. I didn't understand where that emptiness and misery were coming from. Maybe it was grief for a relationship that was never meant to work. Perhaps I was sad because I had failed to maintain a relationship. After all, work had turned into my life. I was just like my father and my brother.

A part of me felt I was slowly turning into what I had fought not to be. And letting Paul might mean I was no longer the old (Y/N). And the new (Y/N) scared me: I was a Fed, I worked over 50 hours a week, and I had killed people. Bad people, but I had pulled the trigger. I knew I had the job of my dreams, and I knew I loved working at the BAU. But with every day that passed, I was walking further and further away from the version of me I loved.

And I was scared of what the new (Y/N) was going to be like. Was she going to be like her dad and lose her family due to her work? or like her brother? who couldn't have a normal life 'cos being a detective was more significant.

I knew we all made our own personal decisions, but a part of me felt it. We were all cut from the same cloth, and I was meant to grow old, alone, and the BAU was going to be my whole life until the day I retired, and the loneliness consumed me.

- "I need a drink."

Spencer's point of view

I took a cab home. I didn't want to take the subway because it would take longer to get there, and I couldn't wait that long. I needed one more fix.

I had been telling myself the same for a whole week now: Just one more. One last time.

But it never was the last time. Every night I failed, and that Friday, I was so eager to forget, I wasn't thinking straight. I snapped at Morgan and (Y/N), just 'cos I was going insane, craving Dilaudid.

After New Orleans, I decided to stop using it. And for two days, I did it. But, of course, I couldn't handle the need. That needle was going to be my end, and I was struggling every day to quit. It was impossible to stop on my own when I needed to quieten the pain somehow.

You don't know how much pain you are into until you numb yourself, and the weight of all your troubles and regrets is lifted from your chest. I knew it was eating me alive, but I had to be strong and quit. So, every day I tried. And every day, I failed. Just like that night, when I laid in bed and slowly unwrapped my belt from my arm, losing all connection with reality.

I had yelled at my friends, and they were probably angry at me. But shit! It was worth it. Nothing was even relevant as long as I could feel the relief Dilaudid gave me.

But it never lasted. And the following day, I regretted it all. I woke up dressed on my bed, a needle next to me and an empty bottle of Dilaudid by its side. Just like a junkie. Tears filled my arms as soon as I realized what had happened. What I had done: I had failed yet again.

My whole body was shaking. I needed to eat something. My last proper meal had been Thursday when (Y/N) and I stopped for dinner on our way back home. And I guess if it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have eaten at all.

I took a long shower, trying to wash away the guilt. It's obvious to say it didn't work. But I consoled myself thinking last night had been the last time. That day I was going to be strong enough, and I was going to quit. I had decided. Nothing could stop me that time.

My breakfast was miserable: I made coffee and took a look in my fridge. Nothing. All I ate that morning was a bowl of cereal (without milk) and two cups of coffee and sugar. Sugar and coffee, actually, like everybody teased me.

I tried to read for a while, at a normal peace, because my head was still fuzzy. So I sat in my living room and grabbed a book from my coffee table: "The Illustrated Man."

After a few hours and four books later, my mind kept coming to the same place. I was out of Dilaudid. And it was a good thing, 'cos now I just wasn't going to get any more. That was it. I had officially quit. Yes. And I felt good. It was a new day, and I was ready to be clean and sober. So I made myself another cup of coffee to celebrate and took a look at my bookshelf. I picked another three books and sat on my armchair, ready to keep on reading. I didn't need drugs to be happy.

Around three in the afternoon, I couldn't stop moving on the couch as I read the sixth book of the day. I drank yet another cup of coffee, even when I knew what I really needed was to get some real food. But I didn't care to starve at that moment. There was only one thought in my mind: Getting high.

Maybe I wasn't ready to quit. I should try leaving it periodically. Actually, perhaps having a bottle around the house could help me ease my mind. Knowing it was there made me feel better. As good as using it.

I was going insane. I kept debating whether I should stay home or find my dealer and just get a little dose. Just enough for one more time. Maybe two. I kept walking around my apartment, creating excuses in my head to get high.

And that was when I heard a knock on my door. I stopped on my tracks, confused. I wasn't waiting for anyone, and I wouldn't really have many unannounced visits. So I walked silently towards the door and looked through the peephole.

- "Shit"- my voice was a whisper I prayed (Y/N) hadn't heard.

What was she doing there? Maybe she had come to talk about my attitude at the BAU. I had said some awful things, but that wasn't really a good moment. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't want anyone to see me. So I didn't open the door.

But she knocked again. I didn't move and almost didn't breathe as I stood still by the door, waiting for her to leave. But she wasn't leaving. Instead, she kept knocking over and over again, driving me insane until I snapped.

- "What the fuck do you want?!"- I opened the door and yelled at her face. She widened her eyes, surprised, and didn't move.

- "You just came to stand there and look at me?- I shouted, and she flinched. She had to leave. I wanted her out of my house. But rather than leaving, she walked in and stood in the middle of the apartment.

- "What is wrong with you?"- she was making an effort to stay calm, but I could tell she was scared. She kept biting the inner part of her cheeks and crossed her arms on her chest. Was she scared of me?

- "Spencer, why are you acting like this?"

- "What the fuck is your problem, (Y/N)? Why are you in my house uninvited?!"

- "I called you like three times. I wanted to invite you to my house for dinner, but you didn't answer, so I got worried."

- "As you can see, I'm fine! And no, I don't wanna go to your house for dinner!"

Her eyes were wide opened, staring right into mine, and I swear it physically hurt to see her. She shouldn't be there. I needed her out. I didn't want her to see me like that, and I needed to get out and get some more Dilaudid. Now more than ever.

- "I'm making lasagna"- (Y/N) whispered- "Mikey, Frank, and Lu are coming."

- "I don't care, I don't wanna go to your house, I don't wanna go anywhere! I'm fine here."

- "But, honey bunny..."

- "Stop calling me that!! I hate it!! It's a stupid nickname! I'm not your fucking honey bunny!!"

The silence in my apartment was so deep, I could hear my own heart racing inside my chest. (Y/N)'s eyes filled with tears that soon started falling down her cheeks. She dropped her shoulders, and her arms hung at her sides, slacks.

- "Please"- she begged- "Tell me what's wrong. I want to help you, Spencer."

- "There's nothing wrong! don't you get sometimes I don't want to be stuck at you?! I already have to see your face all day at work. I deserve a break during the few weekends we have off!"

- "I know you don't mean that"- her voice broke, and her chin trembled, but she still made her best not to cry.

- "You don't know that. You don't know shit, (Y/N)."

I stayed quiet and looked away from her. I couldn't stare at those sad eyes for another second.

- "Please, leave"- I managed to control my voice for a second, in a poor attempt not to hurt her anymore. But she shook her head and sniffed.

- "No, Spencer, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong with you. I am worried."

- "There's nothing fucking wrong with me, (Y/N)! Don't you get it?! I just don't wanna be with you!"

- "Please"- she begged, sobbing in front of me. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't bear to see her anymore.

So I ruined everything and hurt her. I pushed her. She nearly fell back but managed to stabilize. She was shocked by my actions, but I didn't even have time to think about what I was doing. All I could think of that minute was that I needed her out of my house to buy drugs and get high.

- "Spencer, what the hell are you doing?"

- "I asked you nicely, but you didn't leave. So now I won't be nice anymore. Get out!!"

I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of my sight. She cried, pleading I would tell her what was wrong with me. But I didn't listen. Instead, I dragged her out of my apartment and slammed the door. I could hear her crying in the hall for a moment, and it enraged me. I thought if she was crying, she herself had caused it. She had appeared at my house at the wrong moment, unannounced.

It wasn't my fault. I just wanted her to leave. I did what I had to do.

And I didn't regret it.

Not until Sunday afternoon, when an announced knock on my door forced me to drag my stoned body from the couch. It was a delivery boy who gave me a package and left. It had nothing written on it. Not even my name. When I opened the box, I found a computer and a note.

- "Play me."

I knew I was still stoned, but not enough to be imagining those kinds of things. I took the laptop to the couch with me. There was a video ready to be played in it. So I pushed play.

- "What the fuck do you want?!"- my heart dropped. It was me, but I could barely recognize my own face- "You just came to stand there and look at me?"

It was a recording of me yelling at (Y/N). She had taped everything, and I couldn't believe my own eyes. I was a monster.

- "I'm making lasagna"- my chin quivered at that scene. Her voice was a whisper, and I was out of myself- "Mikey, Frank, and Lu are coming."

- "I don't care, I don't wanna go to your house, I don't wanna go anywhere! I'm fine here."

- "But honey bunny..."

- "Stop calling me that!! I hate it!! It's a stupid nickname! I'm not your fucking honey bunny!!"

I paused the video, 'cos I couldn't take it anymore. That wasn't me. I couldn't believe I had said all those things to her. It hurt (Y/N), so I could get drugs.

I covered my face with my hands and cried. I was done. Not only did I not know how to recover from my drug addiction, but I also didn't know how I could ever look at my best friend again in the eyes after what I had done.

I remembered she had cried, and I knew I had been mean. But when I saw the extreme hate in each one of my words, I knew I had reached rock bottom. I needed help.

After a few minutes, I pushed play again. I knew I needed to see the whole thing actually to understand what had happened.

- "Please, leave!!"

- "No! Spencer, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong with you. I am worried."

- "There's nothing fucking wrong with me, (Y/N)! Don't you get it! I just don't wanna be with you!!"

- "Please... Spencer, no! What the hell are you doing?"

- "I asked you nicely, but you didn't leave. So now I won't be nice anymore. Get out!!"

I hit her. I pushed her. She was there to invite me for dinner, and I hurt her. Who was I? What kind of beast does such a thing to his best friend?

Who would do such a thing to the woman he loves.

I curled on the couch, crying. How could I let that happen? When did I turn into a downward version of myself? Ethan was right. I had been dumb enough to think I could control it when in reality, drugs were controlling me. I was losing who I was. I could lose my job. I was losing my friends.

I knew things had been hard for me growing up, but I had finally reached a point in my life where I was happy. I liked my life. I loved my job. For once, I had real friends, and I was making good, catching bad guys. I had actually fulfilled my dream to work at the BAU. So why was I wasting it all?

- "Spencer"- I heard (Y/N)'s voice at the end of the video and saw her face on the screen- "I am here if you need to talk. I'm not mad. I just wanna hug you. Please, call me. Let me help you."

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't talk to her after what had happened. I dragged her by the arm out of my apartment. I made her cry. I didn't deserve anything. I couldn't deal with reality and the consequences of the monster I had become into.

Sunday, March 4th. That was the day it all changed for good.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer didn't call. I wasn't surprised, though. I knew he would be affected by the video and probably felt like he didn't deserve my help. So I did what I knew Frank would say I shouldn't do. I put on my shoes and got ready to go to his apartment and pick him up. I was not going to leave him alone when I could see he was struggling to survive.

But when I opened my door, Spencer was sitting in the hall outside my apartment, hugging his legs, shaking. His eyes were puffy, and his lips were shattered. He looked at me, afraid I would be mad. But how could I? I just wanted to help him.

I kneeled in front of him and touched his hands. They were stone cold. His lips trembled as I looked into his eyes, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he finally threw his arms around me, crying.

- "It's ok, honey"- I whispered and felt his whole body shaking as he held me tight- "I've got you."

- "I'm sorry"- I mumbled, sobbing against my shoulder.

- "Shh, it's ok, it's ok"- I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek.

- "Please"- I had to bite my lips not to cry with him, but I knew I had to be strong for him- "Help me."

- "Always."

I poured two cups of tea on my kitchen island as I looked at Spencer eating a bowl of soup. He was swallowing it like he hadn't eaten in days, which was probably true. We had barely spoken in the last hour. He kept asking for forgiveness as I helped him walk into my apartment and sat with him on the couch. He held onto me like a castaway holds to whatever shipwrecks he finds to survive.

When I finally convinced him to eat something, he followed me to the kitchen and looked at me in silence as I cooked. I didn't know what to tell him, so I just did my best to stay calm. I knew what was happening next, and it wasn't going to be pretty. But I was ready to go through it with him.

- "Thank you"- he whispered and sighed as soon as he was finished.

- "Do you want some more?"- but he shook his head. I smiled at him and handed him his cup of herbal tea.

- "Cookies?"- he didn't answer. He just looked at me with those big puppy eyes and broke my heart.

- "I'm sorry"- he spoke so softly I almost didn't hear him.

- "Don't be."

- "I was a monster"- he stared at me, and I knew he was thinking I was never going to forgive him, when the truth was, I wasn't mad at him at all. I was just worried sick.

- "Are you ready to get better?"- I was afraid to ask, 'cos I was afraid he could change his mind. Still, I trusted the video had shaken him deeply enough to erase from his head any thought of relapsing.

- "Yes."

His answer was clear. Even when it was a whisper, there was no hesitation or no fear. Pure determination. It made me smile to hear him like that. And he smiled at me for a second, filling my heart with hope.

- "Ok, then this is what we are doing"- I walked to my desk and took a folder I had prepared for that day. I gave it to him, and he frowned, confused.

- "What is this?"

- "Our home detox plan. You and I are locked in this apartment for the next fifteen days."

Spencer looked at me, baffled. I just smiled and walked to the fridge to show him how prepared I was.

- "I got all the food we need, and the meds you might need, and a nurse that will come to visit daily to put an eye on you."

- "What? How? What about work?"

- "I'll talk to Hotch."

- "What are you gonna tell him?"

- "The truth"

I wasn't going to lie to my boss, not when he also knew what was happening with Reid.

- "Honey, he knows there's something wrong with you, and I'm sure he will understand our absence for two weeks. You and I have enough vacation days saved to cover that time. And you need it."

Spencer looked at me in silence. I couldn't read his face because his eyes hypnotized me. Even under those circumstances, his eyes were beautiful and sweet. Filled with hope.

- "Ok"- he nodded, and I hugged him right away.

- "I'm so proud of you, honey"- I whispered and caressed his hair for a second.- "Come on. We are doing one more thing before we start."

- "What?"

- "Cleaning your apartment."

I took Reid back to his place and got rid of the Dilaudid he had gotten that weekend: All of it. And the needles. I helped him clean because I didn't want him to find a messy apartment when he would get back there. Then, we packed a bag of clean clothes to take to my place. He looked weak but determined to change, which made me feel so relieved. My heart was joyful.

- "Do you have everything?"- I whispered and held his hand as he stood in the middle of the living room and took a look around- "Do you want to take some books?"- he didn't answer- "Spencer? are you ok?"

- "I don't want to be a burden"- he whispered, and I took a deep breath right away, trying to find the right words to convince him he wasn't and that there was no way on earth he could ever be a burden in my life.

- "You are not, I swear"- he looked down and played with his fingers in my hand- "I mean it."

- "It's not going to be nice"

- "I know"

- "And..."

- "And I want to be there, with you, all along. Ok?"- he looked at me, and my heart skipped a beat.

- "(Y/N), withdrawal symptoms from opiates include anxiety, sweating, vomiting, and"- he cleared his throat, embarrassed- "And diarrhea."

- "I know... but we are going to go through this together, one day at the time."

Spencer kept his fingers in my hand, tracing paths on my skin. I looked at him and bit the inside of my cheeks. I didn't want him to doubt himself, 'cos I knew he could do it.

- "One day at the time sounds good"- he murmured and looked at me with a tiny smile. I nodded and kissed his cheek. I don't know why I did it. I just know how much I liked it. The sensation of his skin, and his two days beard, I don't know what it did to me. But I even shivered.

- "Let's go"- I whispered and held his hand tight. He nodded and grabbed his bag. It was about to get real.

The first night with Spencer was wild. He hadn't used it in over a day, and the withdrawal symptoms started around midnight. We were on the couch watching a movie. I was already half asleep when I felt Spencer constantly moving. He started biting his nails and scratching his face every two minutes.

- "Are you ok?"- I whispered and looked at him. He was pale.

- "I'm not gonna be able to do this."

- "Honey..."

- "No, I mean it."

- "You can, and you will."

- "How do you know? I was weak enough to start using."

- "You were forced to start using, and you are strong enough to stop"- I sat straight and held his hands. He was freezing- "What do you say we put you to bed? I'll make you a cup of tea, and we'll see how you feel in the morning."

He didn't move. I kept his hand in mine, and he held it tight. Real tight. I don't know what he was thinking about, but after a few seconds, he sighed and looked at me.

- "Bed and tea sounds nice,"- I nodded and stood up, but he didn't move- "(Y/N)?"

- "Yes?"

- "Where are you going to sleep?"

- "On the couch"- he sighed, and his face was filled with guilt.

- "I can't let you do that. This is your house."

- "Don't worry about that now. Come on. You need to rest"- I caressed his hand with my thumb, and he finally stood up. But halfway to the bedroom, he stopped.

- "I feel so guilty to put you through all this."

- "I want to do this"

- "But..."

- "No, but"- I turned to him and cupped his face with my hands- "I love you, and I'm not gonna leave you alone. No matter what."

My words resonated inside my head for a few seconds as I stared at him. My stomach was fluttering, and my heart was racing inside my chest.

That wasn't good. But I didn't have to overthink my feelings because my best friend needed me.

Reid walked to the bathroom and put on his pajamas while I made him a cup of warm tea. I knew what was coming: nausea, shivering, throwing up, stomach ache, and more. But I was ready. Two weeks and Spencer was going to be ok.

I had talked about my plan with Hotch earlier that day, and he agreed to give us two weeks off and cover us. Spencer was going to be in Vegas, 'cos his mother had had an episode, and I would be in New York, helping my brother on a case. Seemed convincing. Having the two of us out of town would stop any of our friends to stop by unannounced.

- "(Y/N), thank you for doing this for Reid"- Hotch said before hanging up. I felt lucky to have him as my unit chief. He surely cared for all of us. I don't think anyone else would have done the same.

Retchings from my bathroom were the first thing I heard as soon as I stepped into my room.

- "Honey, do you need help?"- but Reid didn't answer. So I ran back to the kitchen and got him a Gatorade from the fridge, set it on the nightstand. Then I ran to my closet and grabbed a clean towel.

I opened the bathroom door and found Reid kneeled by the toilet. He had already flushed but didn't stand up.

- "Here"- I dampened the towel and put it on his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed- "Better?"

Spencer just nodded and stayed still for a moment. I took off his glasses and pulled his hair back carefully. He started retching a second later, and I rubbed his stomach, cooing him. When he was done, I flushed and helped him stand up. That wasn't it, and I knew it. He knew it too.

- "Did you know brushing your teeth right after throwing up damages your teeth?"- he whispered, making me smile. It felt good to know deep down, even under those shitty circumstances, he was still the same good old Reid.

- "So, mouthwash?"- I moved the bottle closer for him, and he just nodded- "I'll be outside."

Reid drank a little Gatorade and made a sad effort to read after getting into bed but fell asleep in less than five minutes. I took the glasses off (again) and took the book from his hands. My heart felt warm just to see him there, resting.

But that lasted less than half an hour. I stayed by Spencer's side to make sure he was ok. I was reading when he started retching again. I grabbed the bucket I had already set underneath the bed and rushed to help him. His stomach was already empty. He was basically just vomiting bile.

When he finally fell asleep again, he started shaking. I touched his hand, and he was freezing, so I took an extra blanket from the closet, placed it on top of him, and set the room's thermostats to make it a little warmer for him.

I stayed by his side, reading until he woke up again. This time, he was sweating. I took a clean pajama top from his bag and helped him change. Then, I took the dirty pajamas and the clothes he had worn that day and put them in the washer.

I sat next to Reid on the bed and looked at him. He was awake, rolling over and over, not able to stay still.

- "Come here"- I whispered and tapped on my lap- "Put your head here."

I thought he was going to argue, but no. Instead, he did as told with no hesitation as I ran my fingers through his hair slowly, scratching his scalp carefully. I felt how he inhaled deeply and relaxed, at least for a little while.

But it didn't last. And the rest of the night was a long loop of puke, shivers, and sweat. Spencer finally fell asleep for good around six in the morning, and I dragged my exhausted self to the couch. Night one was done. Nine more to go.

Spencer's point of view

My whole body ached. I opened my eyes, disoriented. All I knew was that I felt I had been beaten up, but I didn't recognize the room. I did recognize the smell on my pillow, though. It was (Y/N)'s. That's how I remembered what was going on.

Adding to how bad I felt, physically, I felt worst knowing everything that had happened the night before and in advance for everything I knew would happen that week. But even knowing that, and even when I was embarrassed to be a burden, I was glad to be there. I was happy to feel taken cared of and loved. It was a change I never imagined I could experience. The one who always took care of his mother now had someone who took care of him. It was under a miserable context, but I felt loved anyway.

Even when I was loved only as a friend.

I stood up slowly. I was fatigued, probably 'cos I had spent half of the night puking. I drank what was left of the Gatorade on the nightstand and walked to the living room. (Y/N) was asleep on the couch. My heart ached to think how uncomfortable she probably was while I slept on her queen-sized bed. No one had ever cared so much about me before. So I walked to the kitchen and made her breakfast. A classical Reid breakfast. Coffee, cereal, and milk. That was it. That was all I could cook.

- "Hey, what are you doing?"- (Y/N) appeared suddenly and smiled at me so sweetly, I nearly dropped the coffee pot.

- "I'm trying to make you breakfast"- I confessed and blushed- "And as you can see, I'm not much of a cooker."

- "You made coffee, you covered the most important part"- she held the cup I had filled for her and smiled- "What if you get comfy on the couch while I make you something to eat?"

- "I can't let you do everything, (Y/N)"- the way she looked at me, my heart skipped a beat.

- "I'll tell you what: If I ever get sick or hurt, or anything happens to me, you are going to be the one taking care of me. Ok?"- I nodded and stayed quiet- "Now, go to the couch. It's a lazy Monday."

- "What does that mean?"

- "We stay in our pajamas, watch movies, nap, and do nothing."

How could anyone say no to that?

I wasn't hungry at all, but (Y/N) really applied herself with everything she cooked: she made chocolate chips, hotcakes, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a smoothie, and also forced me to eat a bowl of fruit. She said I needed all the vitamins I could get, 'cos I had to get strong.

She sat next to me, ate the bowl of cereal I had prepared for her, and drank the coffee I had made. It was relaxing just staying there, covered with a blanket, watching Dr. Who. I felt my body losing up little by little. Until detox hit again. The light was bothering me, burning my eyes, and my body felt weak. Nauseous started kicking in, and before I knew it, I was throwing up on (Y/N)'s carpet.

She held a bucket in front of me and pressed a damped towel on the back of my neck.

- "Better?"- (Y/N) whispered and smiled at me. Her fingers tucked some of my hair behind my ears gently- "Do you want to lay down for a while? You are shaking."

I just nodded.

- "Ok, come on, let's go"- she held my arm and helped me stand up. She was right. I was shaking, but not just because I was cold. It was the withdrawal.

I was so embarrassed and mortified. With each symptom, I was a little more certain (Y/N) would never look at me the way I did. She would never fall for me after what she was witnessing. No one in their right mind would.

- "There you are"- she whispered, fixing the pillow behind my head as I laid on her bed again.

- "Can you please close the curtains?"- I whispered, covering my face with both hands. The light was too painful to deal with.

- "Sure, honey. Headache?"- all I could do was nod- "I'll get you ibuprofen, that will help with your body aches and the migraine."

I stayed still, eyes closed, hands covering my face, thinking how I had gotten to the point of having to detox my body from drugs. It was, without a doubt, the lowest moment of my whole life.

- "Ok, honey, try to get some rest, ok?"- (Y/N) whispered after I took the ibuprofen and drank half the bottle of water she had brought.

-  "Can you..."- I studied because I was afraid to tell her I didn't want her to leave me alone. I was afraid to be on my own. I didn't trust myself or my mind.

- "What is it? Do you want another blanket?"

- "Can you stay with me?"- I finally asked and held her hand. She just nodded, smiling, and sat next to me on her bed, making sure I was comfy and cozy, fixing the pillow again and the blanket. I looked at her as she laid by my side on top of the covers and held her book.

- "I'm here, Spencer. And I'll be where when you wake up, ok?"

- "Can you read to me?"- I closed my eyes 'cos the light was killing me.

- "And your headache?"

- "Your voice is soothing, and it would help to concentrate on something else but the pain."

- "Ok... then prepare yourself for some horror, 'cos I'm reading, yet again, "Something wicked this way comes."

- "It's one of my favorites"- I whispered and sighed.

- "Why am I not surprised?"

I tried to fight the waves of nausea, the pain in every muscle and headache, and only focused on the sound of her voice as she read. It took me back to when I was a kid, and my mom would read me every night. (Y/N) kept caressing my hair and reading to me. It was the closest I had ever been to heaven, even when physically, I felt like dying.

When I woke up, (Y/N) was asleep by my side. I tried to move, but my body was limp. It was too painful for me to get up on my own, and all I could think of was one simple thing: Dilaudid. I was craving it. I would never feel so bad if I had a fix. Just a little one. To make the pain go away.

I was making excuses to justify my need for drugs. I wanted to feel better, 'cos right there, on (Y/N)'s bed, I felt dead already, and my whole body was rotting. I just wanted to get a little high. It wasn't going to hurt anyone. Right?

Wrong. The bruise on (Y/N)'s arm was the reality check I needed. I hurt her. I hit her. I pushed her away from me. That's how low I had gotten. I would not let that happen again, and more important than anything else: I was never going to hurt (Y/N), ever again. And that I swore to myself that day on her bed.

There was no use in denying the fact I was in love with my best friend. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me. And I knew I was going to love her forever, even when she would only be my friend. I didn't even know when I had fallen so hard in love with her. I tried to remember the moment my feelings had changed from friendship to love, but I couldn't find it. I just knew I loved her, and nothing was ever gonna change that.

The kind of love that makes you think you'd die for that person. I would die for her, just to make sure she is safe.

I felt so pathetic thinking those things. Not because I didn't want to feel that way, but because I knew (Y/N) would never look at me like that. But still, I'd give her everything she could ever ask me for.

I just laid by her side and looked at her as she slept. My eyes were finally able to slide on every detail of her face. Her freckles, her nose, the color of her lips that even without makeup looked like a cherry. And the bruise on her arm. I was never going to forget about it and neither forgive myself.

- "Hey"- she whispered, fluttering her eyes- "How are you feeling?"

- "Good"- I lied. I didn't want to tell her I felt like dying. She stayed still, looking at me for a few seconds.

- "Are you hungry?"- I shook my head, even that hurt- "How's the headache?"- my eyes were killing me.

- "Better"- she nodded and sighed.

- "I know you are full of shit, Spencer Walter Reid. You don't need to lie"- I just closed my eyes and refused to open them again for a few minutes.

- "I just don't want you to worry, (Y/N). That's all."

- "Do you want to sleep some more? I'm gonna go..."- but as soon as she moved, I stopped her.

- "No"- I looked at her and held her hand immediately. Every muscle in my body hurt with that movement, but I didn't regret it- "Please, don't leave."

- "Ok, I won't go. I promise"- she held my hand and caressed it slowly and smiled so sweetly, I think I even smiled back.

We laid in silence for a while. I closed my eyes again, trying to breathe normally. (Y/N) was lying next to me. That would get my heart racing in a second.

- "The nurse is coming around five. She will put an eye on you every day if you need any medical attention, ok?"- I hummed as a response and kept focused on her fingers playing with my hand- "Maybe we can ask her to help you take a bath."

I wide opened my eyes at those words and noticed how my best friend was blushing.

- "What?"- she chuckled at my reaction- "I can take a bath on my own!"

- "Really? You should consider it then"- she stuck out her tongue to me and giggled- "Though your two days beard is cute"- she ran her fingers along my jaw and sent shivers all over my body. The proximity felt so new, yet incredibly natural, almost familiar.

- "Thanks?"- I answered with a question 'cos I had no idea what else to do. I just stayed still and looked into her eyes. She didn't say another word either. Her eyes were following her fingers, playing with my jawbone slowly.

I wanted to move a little closer to her and hug her, maybe. But I couldn't. Not only because I physically couldn't move without crying, but because her phone rang and made her jump on the bed.

- "Hey! Paco, how are you?"- I heard her pick up the phone in the living room and walk back to me, holding another bottle of Gatorade.

- "No, I'm on a case. In New York. I don't know how long, I wish I could predict how long it's gonna take to catch a fucking serial killer, but I can't."

I looked at her as she walked around the room, talking with Frank. Of course, it was him. She always called him Paco. I slowly sat down on the bed and sighed. I was paranoid about the shower. Maybe I stank. I hadn't bathed since... Saturday. Obviously, I smelled terrible. I had been sweating all night long.

I made my best effort and walked to the bathroom. Everything hurt. When I finally managed to take off my pajamas and ran the shower, I was weary. But the warm water made me feel a lot better.

I took a long shower. Not just because I wanted to stay forever under the warm water, but because I couldn't really move that fast. I washed my hair and considered shaving. But I didn't have a razor on hand, and if (Y/N) liked my tiny beard, I decided to keep it.

- "Hey! everything ok?"- (Y/N) asked from the other side of the door.

- "Yes, I'm ok"- she walked in, and I froze.

- "Ok, I'll leave a clean towel next to the shower, ok? It's warm"

- "Thank you."

I stayed still under the water until she exited the bathroom and nearly held my breath at the thought of her being there with me. It was too much, and to be honest, I was too weak to overthink it. But I knew it was going to be a thought that would hunt me back home.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I sat on the couch and drank my tea after leaving the towel for Spencer in the bathroom. My heart was racing, and that shouldn't be happening. Why was I so affected by my best friend? I knew I was worried, and all my attention was focused on him, but that didn't explain why my stomach fluttered when I looked at him.

- "Put your shit together!!"- I yelled/whispered to myself and shook my head.

Frank had called to know about Spencer, but I had to lie and act like I was at work. I couldn't just tell him what was going on in front of Reid. So I texted him the short version of the fact, and he asked me to keep him posted. He also told me he was going to keep Mikey and Lu away from my apartment those days.

Spencer took a shower and sat with me on the couch. I had cleaned the vomit from the carpet and kept a bucket near in case he felt sick. We read in silence for a while, and I kept checking on him every few minutes. He was nervous and looked anxious. I wasn't going to ask him what was wrong, 'cos it was obvious he was craving Dilaudid, and to be honest, I was scared he might start yelling and getting violent. So, I stood up and prepared him a smoothie. I knew he hated healthy eating, especially salads, but he was doomed. He had to put some vitamins in his body.

He looked at me disgusted as I gave him the glass but drank it quietly and gave it back in a minute. I was impressed.

He threw it up in less than ten minutes, though. So far, not so good.

He also vomited lunch. I knew his whole body ached, so I put on a Star Trek DVD to keep his mind busy in anything else. When the nurse came, she did a brief check-up and told me to continue with the same diet and ibuprofen in case of severe pain. We had to put an eye on dehydration. She also suggested we'd engage in some physical activity as soon as he felt better. Walks to the park were her recommendation.

I couldn't imagine Spencer walking out of the house under those conditions, but I had high hopes by the end of that week, he was going to feel much better.

The second night was worse than the first because his body aches hit him harder. He rolled in bed in pain, shivering. I stayed with him until late, trying to soothe him. I read and caressed his sweated hair. At a certain point, I just sat there with his head on my legs, and he started crying. His tears soaking my legs and his sobs breaking my heart.

I didn't know what to say. I don't know if there was anything to be said at that moment. So I just leaned in and kissed Spencer's temple. I rocked him like a baby and did my best to calm him down. He just kept crying on and on, tearing my soul apart. I couldn't handle watching him like that. I didn't know what to do to help him feel better too. All I could do was be with him throughout the process and hold him tight to make sure I kept all his pieces together. I didn't want him to fall apart.

When I opened my eyes the following day, Spencer was asleep in front of me. He was pale, and the rings under his eyes were darker than ever. But at least, he was finally sleeping.

I stared at him for a few minutes, planning the day. But soon, I realized I couldn't concentrate. I just looked at him. I knew my friend was handsome, even when he always argued when I let him know. But at that moment, he made my heart beat faster. His hair was messy and with some curls. His brown beard kept growing. I had never seen Spencer with facial hair, and I loved it. I wanted to tell him to keep it, but then I thought it might be inappropriate. Not that telling him was wrong, but what he was making me feel.

I refused to think I had a crush on my friend. Because I didn't. I was just worried sick for him, and my head was confused. It wasn't the time to think about that. I had to be a good friend and help Reid. His wellbeing was all that mattered to me.

So I got out of bed and ran to the kitchen to make sure everything was ready. I cooked breakfast and lunch, cleaned, and took a quick shower. I was walking out of the bathroom in my clean clothes when Spencer woke up. He rolled in bed and looked at me, confused.

- "Hey, how are you feeling, honey?"- I whispered and sat next to him on the bed. He yawned and nodded.

- "Better."

- "Great, I hope you are hungry, 'cos breakfast is ready"- he scratched his head and yawned again. And I swear, I had to mentally slap myself because I thought he looked adorable and couldn't stop staring.

- "Do you want to take a shower?"- I asked him and stood up. I had to do anything to keep me from being stupid- "I can also run you a bath. I got some salts that could make you feel better. They might help with your body ache."

- "Thank you"- he whispered and sat down. He just looked at me in silence as I kept myself busy opening curtains, folding blankets, and cleaning the bathroom, to get it ready for him

- "Did you sleep?"- he asked me suddenly- "You look tired."

- "Nah, I'm ok. I think I went too heavy on the coffee earlier."

- "How long have you been up?"- I looked at my wristwatch and sighed.

- "A couple of hours."

It was ten. I got up at eight. Spencer had finally fallen asleep at five. It didn't take a genius to see I hadn't slept properly.

- "Why don't you nap?"- he asked and tapped on the bed- "You look like you could use some more sleep"- that was tempting, I won't deny it. But no. I couldn't.

- "Tell you what, why don't you eat something and then we can watch a movie together?"- Spencer nodded and moved slowly. That's when I remembered he felt like shit.

- "Come here"- I stood by his side and held his hands- "Can you stand up?"

- "Yes"- he whispered and tried to move on his own. His legs were shaking, and so were his hands. He did his best to stand up, and after a few tries on his own, he succeeded. But after giving two steps alone, he stumbled and nearly fell.

- "I've got you!"- I said, wrapping my arms around him and keeping him steady. His whole face was red, in anger maybe, or embarrassment. I didn't want to push him to talk or do anything. I just made sure he wouldn't fall.

- "Wanna stay in bed?"- I suggested

- "No"- he murmured and took a step ahead

- "Ok, let's go to the living room then."

Spencer didn't reply. I was sure he was ashamed and upset. I just walked with him to the living room, trying to think of anything else: anything but the butterflies in my stomach.

It was getting harder to ignore the mental fuzziness I felt each time I looked at him. But I refused to think about it. It wasn't the right time.

But it got worse that evening.

We spent the whole day on my sofa, napping, reading, and watching Star Trek. I was getting dinner ready when Spencer's phone rang. We both stayed still. He looked at me with widened eyes, almost scared. I smiled and walked to my room to get the phone. It was JJ.

I'm not proud to say it, but an overwhelming sensation of insecurity and concern filled my body. Why was JJ calling Spencer? Were they closer than I thought? I don't know why I kept thinking all those things.

- "It's JJ"- I announced and gave him his phone. He hesitated for a moment and finally picked up. I walked back to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. What was wrong with me?

- "Mom is fine, thank you for calling"- I heard him say and closed my eyes. I had to focus on the food. I had to focus on helping him get better.

Why was I so upset JJ had called him? It was nice to know more people cared about him. Not as much as I did, of course.

- "Sure, I tell her. I'll see you in a couple of days"

I walked back to the living room carrying a tray with soup and salads. Spencer sat down properly and looked at me with a small smile.

- "I know you hate veggies, but you are doomed"- I whispered, reading his mind- "These are packed with all the vitamins and minerals your body needs."

- "Thank you"- he murmured and kept his eyes on me until I sat next to him and grabbed my bowl.

- "How was JJ?"- I had to ask. He cleared his throat and played with the lettuce on his dish for a moment before saying.

- "She was ok. She wanted to know if everything was ok with my mom."

- "Oh"- I didn't know what else to say. I tried no to think about it anymore, 'cos it was useless.

- "I kind of felt bad everybody swallowed our story"- Spencer confessed and sighed.

- "That's because I make up the best lies, honey,"- I smiled at him, but he just stared- "Everything ok?"

- "I'm not hungry"

- "Come on, at least have the soup, please?"

- "I don't want to barf all over your carpet, again"- he whispered and kept playing with the lettuce.

- "What if I tell you I made brownies? and you can have a brownie if you eat the soup?"- Spencer bit his lips and shook his head.

- "Why are you treating me like a kid?"

- "I am not! I'm blackmailing you with sugar as I would do under any other circumstance."-

And I wasn't lying. I would definitely try to force him to eat or do something with the promise of a brownie.

- "So? What do you say? Eat that soup, and we'll have brownies... with vanilla ice cream."

Reid stared into my eyes, and I held my breath. He was so pale, so thin. And yet, so beautiful.

- "If I vomit..."

- "If you vomit, you vomit. No hard feelings"- I smiled and tapped on his leg- "Besides, you need to get some vitamins in your body. You are too thin."

He didn't reply. He started eating slowly and kept watching Star Trek in silence.

Spencer successfully ate his bowl of soup and ate a little bit of the salad. I knew he hates veggies, so I didn't push him. As a reward, I prepared a big tray with brownies with ice cream, chocolate sauce, and hot chocolate with marshmallows and put it on the coffee table in front of us. We were about to start eating when we heard a knock on the door.

- "That's the nurse"- I said and stood up quickly. But I was wrong. It was Paul.

- "Babe... hey"- he smiled at me as soon as I opened the door and tried to walk in. But I didn't let him.

- "What are you doing here?"- I stood at the door and raised an eyebrow. I knew we didn't have a bad breakup, but after what he had said that night, I was afraid he might freak out to see Spencer in his pajamas watching tv on my couch.

- "I couldn't stop thinking about what happened the other night, and..."- he made a pause and looked inside- "What are you doing?"

- "I'm having dinner"

- "Alone?"- I didn't answer- "Can I come in?"

- "No"

- "Are you with someone? are you on a date?"- Paul pushed the door and stormed into my apartment. Reid turned around and looked at him, embarrassed.

- "What the fuck do you think you are doing? get out of my house!"- I grabbed my ex-boyfriend's sleeve and stopped him.

- "Hey, Paul"- Spencer waved from the couch, looking scared. His shoulders were tightened, and his eyes wide opened.

- "What is this nerd doing here?"- Paul turned to me, ignoring my friend.

- "What are you doing here? That's the question!"

- "I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day."

- "Well, sorry to crack the news, but if this is an apology, it sucks!"- I swear, I could feel my pulse speeding- "And there is nothing to talk or forgive, we broke up, and it was ok!"

- "Yeah, and now the nerd is here to make you feel better!"

- "You have no idea what you are talking about! And would appreciate it if you stop calling him that!!"- I freaked out and clenched my fist. I was going to lose it with him.

- "Good luck with the Ice Princess here!!"- Paul yelled at Reid- "If you are lucky, she is gonna hug you once!!"

- "Get out!"- I stood by the open door and slammed it as soon as he had left. My hands were shaking, my lips were quivering, and my eyes were tearing up.

- "Are you... are you ok?"- Spencer stood up and walked to me. He stumbled a little but managed to hold me. I didn't reply. I just broke into tears.

Why was I crying if I was glad I had broken up with Paul? Why was I so upset to see him at my house? Why was I shaking in anger?

Maybe I was just human, and I was tired of all the shit. Perhaps I was just sleepy or stressed with everything going on with Reid. Or the fact he kept thinking I had feelings for my best friend was too much for me.

Even the fact he called me "Ice Princess" hurt me. Yes, I wasn't a very physical person with him. But that was just because I wasn't in love with him.

For a few minutes, I just cried, soaking Spencer's pajamas as he held me tight, just like I had done for him the night before.

- "I'm sorry"- I whispered and sighed. I let him go and fixed my hair- "I shouldn't let Paul affect me so much, but I wasn't expecting to see him."

- "What happened?"- Spencer held my hand and took me to the couch with him. He handed me a dish with brownie and melted ice cream, and a spoon.

- "We broke up a few days ago."- my best friend looked at me in silence as his shaky thumb wiped off the tears on my cheeks.

- "I was actually planning dinner with the guys to give them the news, 'cos I knew they would like to celebrate... but that doesn't matter. You were right; I didn't love him. I don't know why I was still dating him."

- "I'm sorry"- he whispered and carefully wrapped me on a blanket.

- "Don't be. I really wanted to break up with him. I was just scared to lose who I used to be..."

- "You are never going to lose who you are, (Y/N)"- Spencer whispered and cut me a smile- "Frankie, Lu, and Mikey would never let that happen"- I sighed and nodded- "I won't let that happen either."

- "Thank you, honey"- I grabbed the spoon and took a big piece of brownie- "You know what bothers me? I don't know why I'm crying so much! I'm not sad! I'm angry!"

- "Actually, when you get mad, your body produces a flood of hormones that stimulate strong reactions in your body, like racing your heart and getting sweaty palms. In response to the elevated stress level, crying stimulates the release of oxytocin and prolactin. These two chemicals can bring your heart rate down and otherwise calm you after a stressful event."

- "Well, my fucking body makes me look weak and stupid!"

- "You could never look weak..."- Spencer hesitated for a second. It felt like he wanted to add something to those words but finally just stayed quiet.

- "Thank you, honey bunny. You are the best friend I could ever ask for."

- "Don't say that. You are the best friend I could have ever asked for."

We just stared for a few seconds. His eyes on mine, my hands still shaking, though I didn't know why.

It was a moment I knew I could never forget, 'cos it was the moment I first considered kissing Spencer.

It was a thought that only lasted for a second, but it was there. And like a seed planted on my brain, once I knew it was there, it could only grow and hunt me, like a ghost.

Spencer's point of view

My heart ached to see (Y/N) crying because of an asshole who never deserved her. And it also jumped of joy knowing she was no longer dating that jerk. I knew I could never make a move on her, but just to know she wasn't stuck with him made me happy.

But the fact she had gone through all that alone and didn't even talk about it for four days because she was too busy taking care of me made me feel awful. I didn't deserve any of that.

- "How are you feeling?"- she whispered and smiled at me after finishing her brownie- "Want me to heat your cocoa?"

- "I'm ok, thank you"

I stared at her in silence and decided to make the boldest move I have ever made with her, and opened my arm for her so that she could cuddle. She didn't hesitate and moved closer. I wrapped an arm around her, and her head rested on my chest. And trying not to make it look like a big deal, I also held her hand and caressed her skin, tracing random patterns on it.

- "I'm sorry for being such a bad friend"- I said and kissed the top of her head. I didn't plan it. I just did it. And it felt so good.

- "Don't say that."

- "I've been an asshole since Tobias."

- "You haven't... I mean, you have, but you had your reasons"- she made a pause and sighed. I knew something was bothering her, and I was hoping it wasn't our position because I loved how her warm body felt against mine.

- "Honey?"- she whispered, and I hummed as a response- "Would you call me a cold person?"

- "Never..."

- "I know I'm not a physical person, but..."

- "Me neither, and look at us"- I pointed out the obvious, and she softly giggled. He raised her head from my chest and turned to look at me. I swear all I could think of that minute was kissing her.

- "I am more loving with you than I ever was with Paul"- she confessed and sighed. Her eyes were sad. Clearly, what he had said to her had affected her more than she wanted to admit.

- "He didn't deserve it anyway"- she added and moved back to lay her head on my chest- "You do."

And after that, we just stayed like that, hugged on the couch, until the nurse knocked on the door.

- "You look much better"- I smiled at the nurse and nodded- "Still nauseous?"

- "Yes, but not as much as yesterday"- I whispered and looked at her, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm, right next to all the marks I left with the needles. I wanted to hide them from everyone, and I thanked (Y/N) wasn't in the room. Of all people, she was the one I didn't want to see those marks the most.

- "They are going to fade soon"- the nurse whispered. I wasn't too subtle with my reaction, I guess. I just nodded and looked away.

- "Your girlfriend is taking excellent care of you. You are a fortunate guy"- I'm sure I blushed and turned to her immediately.

- "She... she is... she is not my girlfriend"- I felt I needed to explain it, I don't know why.

- "Really?"- and the nurse seemed to be in shock- "She surely loves you."

- "She is my best friend"- I whispered and felt how my heart was nearly bursting inside my chest.

- "You are lucky to have her"- she added, and I agreed.

I knew I was lucky. Even when (Y/N) wasn't my girlfriend, I knew I had to be with her. Always.

After thirteen days of home detox, I was back to being my old self again. I felt happy, healthy, and strong. I don't think I had ever felt that good before.

I loved spending those days with (Y/N), and I was pretty bummed I had to go back to my apartment the next day. The fact I had lived with her for two weeks was incredible. I knew it all happened under dark and miserable circumstances, but it had been life-changing.

Now I knew everything I wanted to know about her to help me make her day better and all her little quirks. Her favorite brands of tea, her favorite snacks. How she liked to take the last cup of tea of the day in bed, reading. Her favorite bands. How she always cooked singing. She always slept on her left side. And how after all those days, we would be so comfortable together, we would cuddle naturally, even without asking.

I don't want to overreact, but it was pretty heavenly to me, like the sensation I felt with the romantic poems mom used to read to me when I was little. Just don't tell anyone I said that.

- "Ok, dinner is ready"- (Y/N) announced and took the lasagna from the oven. I held a bowl of salad and walked with her to the dining room.

- "What do you wanna drink?"

- "A glass of wine, you?"

- "Red or white?"- I asked her and walked back to the kitchen. I didn't even wait for her answer. I took the white and two glasses. She smiled and sat down.

- "This looks amazing, (Y/N)"- and I wasn't lying.

- "Wait until you see dessert, we have three colors of Jell-O"- the fact she knew I loved jello wasn't what got me. It was how happy she looked to spoil me with my favorite dessert.

- "Thank you for cooking all my favorite meals."

- "You are welcome, honey bunny"- I smiled at her and poured a glass of wine for her and one for me.

- "Can I ask you something?"- I whispered, and she nodded- "Why do you call me honey bunny?"- she looked from her dish and giggled.

- "It took you forever to ask."

- "Well... I didn't want you to think I didn't like it..."

- "You don't?"- I wide opened my eyes and shook my head frenetically.

- "No! I love it! I just... don't know... where does it come from? You said I gave you the "honey bunny" vibes, but... what does that mean?"- (Y/N) chewed her lasagna and looked at me.

- "Well, I always loved that nickname. I thought it was adorable and never used it on anyone because no one ever gave me that vibe. I had never met my honey bunny before."

"My Honey Bunny." That woman was killing me, and she had no idea.

- "And I took it from Pulp Fiction"- she finally confessed and waited for my reaction- "Have you seen it?"

- "No"- I admitted and shrugged.

- "Then we are watching it after dinner tonight"- (Y/N) decided, and I nodded- "You still don't give me a nickname, by the way."

She had no idea, but I had a list of nicknames for her. I had written all the cute names I wanted to call on a notebook I kept in my satchel. But I didn't dare. I could call her cute names in my head all the time, but never out loud.

- "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, by the way"- she added and kept eating.

- "I have never done it before"- I accepted, feeling embarrassed- "Sorry."

- "Why are you sorry?"

- "I don't want you to think I don't want to call you by a loving nickname. I just..."

- "Come on, how would you call me? Do I give you any nickname vibe?"- I chuckled, and she smiled childishly.

- "I really like the story behind "nugget." I think it's brilliant"- she shook her head, and her cheeks blushed- "But for you... I think I have three options."

- "So you've given it some thoughts!"- I nodded and took a sip of wine- "Let me hear them."

- "Well... after that case in Oregon when you got lost in the woods, I thought I could call you "chipmunk"- I confessed and watched her face light up.

- "I love that!"

- "Really?"- I chuckled and looked at her holding my breath- "Well... then I remembered how we became friends and your obsession with cupcakes, so I thought I could call you that."

- "I love that too!!"

- "And..."- since I was honest, I took it a little further- "After last Halloween, and all the carving we did, and our movie marathon, I thought "pumpkin" was pretty sweet too."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at me, her cheeks blushing and her eyes shining.

- "They are all awesome, so you should use them all, and I can look for more nicknames for you"- I simply stared at her and felt how my heart melted.

- "Ok"- I whispered, and she raised an eyebrow playfully.

- "Ok, what?"

- "Ok... pumpkin"- I whispered and held my breath at the sound of those words leaving my lips.

She really didn't have a clue about what she did to me.

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @archer561

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy

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Next update: May 19th, 2021