#MY POOR STRAY KITTY'S PATHETIC MEOW TO THAT

[kodokugumon]

Just finished stray tonight lads

and boy am I going through it

[morningsstarr]

youre like a stray cat that meows pathetically into the night and i leave some food and water out (likes and reblogs) in the hopes to keep you nourished and when it rains (discourse happens) im always hoping youre safe out of it but sometimes i spot you out my window just sitting in it absolutely drenched and im like "what a poor pathetic little kitty"

i neeeedds more likes and rebloggssssss

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found

Summary: Admittedly, taking in a strange stray cat is not the brightest idea one might have when one lives in a world of faeries and magic and mythical creatures straight out of old wives’ tales. But no one told this to Jude Duarte, and so taking in that cat is exactly what she does... || From this prompt by @newblood-freya

Genre: Soft, Feel Good Fic

Words: 1862

Rating: sfw

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

Admittedly, taking in a strange stray cat was not the brightest idea one might have had when one lived in a world of faeries and magic and mythical creatures straight out of old wives’ tales. 

But it had been cold and rain had been pouring down in sheets, and the poor scrap of a cat had been huddled in a pathetic little ball among the trees of the Milkwoods, its pelt growing soggy in the onslaught. 

And if that weren’t pitiful enough, dawn had been creeping ever closer, and—while darkness was dangerous in the human world—nighttime in Faerie was quiet and as generally peaceful as it could get in a land where a wrong turn might spell death-by-endless-dancing. Yes, in Faerie, the darkness meant safety, whilst daylight brought dangers from stories untold. 

Consequently, when Jude had stumbled across the sopping black cat—literally, tripped over the thing, as it had lain in the dimming shadows—she had made the somewhat-horrible decision to have mercy on it. She was, regrettably, only human, after all.

“You look as lost as I feel,” she had admitted, crouched before the little creature, hand outstretched. It was staring at her with dark amber eyes, crouched low amongst the wet grass.

“Come now,” she coaxed. “I won’t harm you, little one.”

The animal had sidled up to her, somehow managing to seem hesitant and haughty all at once, and she had scooped it up and held it to her chest, wrapping her coat around its shivering body. 

She ran the rest of the way home.

~ ~ ~

Jude wasn’t entirely sure how Madoc would react to her bringing a cat into his house—she had a vague fear that he might view it as a meal, and a brief image of the lizardlike guard who had taken the tip of her finger for a snack flashed through her mind. 

She couldn’t leave the poor thing in the stables, lest the stablehands find it and kick it out, or one of the larger, carnivorous mounts decide to gobble it up, and so she slipped in through a servant’s door, pausing for a moment beneath the light of a torch set into the wall to peek into the folds of her jacket at the warm, wet cat huddled against her chest. 

“Alright in there?” she asked it, and smiled as the glowing amber eyes blinked back. 

Carrying her boots so as not to track mud through the halls, Jude tiptoed up the stairs to her room. She ducked into a guest room once, when she heard voices down the hall, but most of the manor was asleep by this time. 

As she snuck through the corridors, she felt, for a moment, like a normal human girl in a normal human world, perhaps creeping in late from a party.

“Sometimes,” Jude breathed, turning in to her room and closing her door behind her, “it’s nice to just pretend, don’t you agree?” 

The cat mewed, its little voice creaky.

“Exactly. You get it.” She plunked the creature on her bed as she stripped her coat off and slung it over a chair. The cat jumped down. It had left a little wet patch on her blankets.

“You poor thing,” she exclaimed, “you're soaking!” 

Grabbing a towel from the bottom of her wardrobe, Jude sat on the floor and pulled the cat into her lap. It sat patiently as she rubbed at its ears and shoulders, running the towel over its long, thin body. It closed its eyes as she patted at its soft cheeks.

“Cats are funny, you know,” she remarked to it. It opened its amber eyes at the sound of her voice, looking up to meet her gaze. 

“So delicate,” she scratched the animal on it's fine jaw bone with a single finger, “and yet, if you were to fall out my window, you could walk away perfectly fine.” 

The cat gave what Jude could only interpret as an indignant squawk and dug its claws into the damp fabric of her leggings. 

“I'm not going to throw you out my window,” she laughed, stroking its soft head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little kitty mind.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, the only sounds Jude’s breathing and the cat’s rumbling purr as she stroked its drying pelt, until Jude began to shiver in her damp tunic.

The cat meowed, climbing off her lap and kneading its paws on her leg until she went to grab a dry nightgown, and then turning its back to her as she peeled her wet tunic over her head. 

What a strange cat, she thought as she shimmied out of her leggings. She smiled. They were already covered in cat hair. 

~ ~ ~

Being a human among faeries, Jude had to fight for each moment she spent on the Isles of Elfhame. She had long ago learned that knowledge, while dangerous, was also powerful, and she had made it a priority to know what she could about the goings on of the Faerie court. 

So, naturally, when the palace messenger had arrived with urgent news, Jude had taken it upon herself to learn what he knew. He’d refused to divulge anything to anyone except the General himself, and so Jude found herself crouching outside Madoc’s office, her ear pressed to the door as the messenger began to speak.

“What do you mean the prince is missing?” Madoc rumbled. His voice carried a level of concern that Jude could not believe was entirely sincere. 

“His Highness Prince Cardan has not been seen nor heard from in three days,” the messenger boy repeated. “High King Eldred wishes you to conduct a search.” 

Despite herself, Jude found she held a modicum of respect for the boy; she would have snapped something smart at Madoc’s senseless question, and probably would have received a threat in return.

She held her breath, listening for the Redcap’s next words.

“Where was he last seen?” Madoc sighed. “Or who spoke with him last? Do you have any useful information for me?”

“Only that he was last seen with a pixie girl during the Full Moon Revel four nights prior to this. The girl has been detained but she hasn’t spoken.”

Jude’s chest tightened at the thought of the insolent prince wandering off with some pixie. The girl had probably been tortured for information, although if it were up to her, Jude would have provided ample compensation to the girl for having spent any time alone with Cardan. 

Against all conscious efforts, the thought of the prince’s long, slender fingers sliding up her skin crept into her mind, accompanied by a picture of his face—his cruel mouth and his dark eyes—jeering down at her. Her stomach lurched and she wrestled the nauseating images from her mind.

Madoc’s armour clinked as he marched toward his door. 

Jude spun on her heel and ran. 

~ ~ ~

“Kitty, I’m back,” Jude called into the empty darkness of her room. She tried to pitch her voice softly, but her nerves were still frayed from the messenger’s news.

The cat slunk out from under her bed, a living shadow with bright eyes, and watched intently as she set two small bowls down for him against the wall. 

After dashing away from her foster father’s office, Jude had stopped by the kitchen to find some water and scraps of meat for her furry visitor. 

By the time she’d made it back to the relative safety of her room, the faerie boy had already left, as had Madoc. If he had caught any sign of her presence outside his door, he had either deemed it irrelevant or had decided he would deal with her later.

The cat mewed, stretching up to hook his claws into her leggings. He had devoured the meal. 

“Someone was hungry.” Jude gave a small laugh and scooped the feline up. During the few days he’d been with her, she’d discovered that she quite enjoyed his company. He was a friend she could confide in without worrying her secrets would get out, and more than that, he was a presence she could stand to be around.

Jude pulled off her boots and plopped cross legged onto her bed, cuddling the cat in her lap, stroking his silken fur. 

“Enjoyed dinner?” she asked him.

He said, “Mrrow,” and yawned in her face, showing off long, sharp fangs. 

“Oh, really? And how was your day?” she hummed, to which he grumbled in response. She liked to make idle conversation with the animal, as though she understood him.

“Well, my day was lovely, thank you for asking.” She thought for a moment. “But it was a bad kind of lovely. You know when you get a bruise and it hurts but you keep pressing on it because you like the pain? Like that, but opposite. Like the sun is making the clouds shimmer, and it’s beautiful, but those clouds are going to cause a flood. The sky is still lovely, but it’s the kind of lovely that hurts.”

The cat’s eyes were fixed on her, shining that bright amber as he stared in the way only cats could. It made her uncomfortable.

“No, I suppose I’m not making any sense, am I?” She pulled the cat onto her chest as she lay back, staring up into nothingness, and stroked his back. She pretended the deep rumble of his purr was the thunder of a summer storm, shaking the earth before bathing it in a warm rainfall.

“I’m worried,” she admitted at last, shattering the spell. “It’s been three nights since he’s been in class, and I wonder where he could have gotten to. Why he’s not coming—not that I care about him, specifically. I just like to keep an eye on what he does and the specific messes he decides to make.” 

The cat looked at her sidelong, his gleaming amber eyes pinning her with a look that she couldn’t quite place, although it was decidedly human. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolded, although the cat, being a cat, did not heed her request.

She sighed. Outside her window, the sky began to lighten as dawn crept closer, the daytime sky stretching up to meet the stars through fog and wispy clouds. Her kitty snuggled into her, tucking his head beneath her chin.

“I wonder if maybe he’ll never come back,” she mused, watching as the first drops of rain tapped at the glass, sparkling in the lamplight. 

The cat purred, sounding as though he agreed, which Jude found unfathomably funny.

“I think you and I get along rather well,” she told him.

“Mrrmm,” the cat grumbled, patting at her face with soft paws. He turned his amber gaze on her and she smiled, scratching the cat behind his ear with one gentle finger. She felt warm and content, listening to his purr, feeling his small weight atop her chest as she breathed.

“Maybe,” she hummed, letting her eyes drift back to the rain outside, “we were meant to find each other.”

The cat’s rumbling purr echoed in the space of her room, and Jude felt like she was home.

***

A/N: Alternatively titled Catboy Cardan 2021 but I somehow I felt like that didn't fit the vibes... Anywhomst—thank you, lovely human, for reading my self-indulgent Jude Gets A Cat fic! It had no plot and I did not proofread it, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!! If you have the time, I'd love if you reblogged and left a comment to let me know what you thought. Thank you again for reading, lovely, and I send my best wishes your way!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

Tagging:  @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @newblood-freya

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part three

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

story page // read on wattpad // join the taglist // banner credit

previous | story masterlist | next

***

Luna’s Great Escape

It’s been two days since Ryan last saw Harry in her doorway, and she’s grateful for the rainstorm that’s been plaguing north central London ever since he left her heart racing that afternoon. The rain hasn’t stopped roaring, presumably ruining Jackson’s playtime in the park, allowing Ryan a short period of time to catch her breath.

She’s spent the past two days in a bit of a drunken stupor. After Harry uttered those words to her in the hallway before entering his own flat, Ryan ripped open the parcel and finished her work for the day, sending over her inspections and adjustments to her supervisor in a daze before the clock struck five. Afterward, she tore off her flannel pajama bottoms and shoved them into the depths of her drawer to hopefully never be seen again, traipsing into her bathroom to turn the tub on, a few bottles of Carlsberg nestled tightly under her armpit.

It’s not that Ryan was avoiding her feelings, because she truly didn’t understand them. After two beers, she came to the conclusion that the bubbling in her gut and the warmth on her cheeks, the fluttering of her heart and the pinch in her breath—was all due to the fact that she found Harry annoyingly attractive.

Ryan’s no stranger to attractive men. Her awkwardness practically disappears after a few shots of tequila have settled into her bloodstream, allowing her to hold a conversation with a handsome man without the overwhelming urge to stutter over her words or shift in her heeled boots from nervousness. Most times, in her debilitated state, she’s gotten lucky with a quick shag and a fumbling exit hidden under the darkness of the night. But now, as she sits in her bathtub nursing her fourth beer, a Kiehl’s face mask hardened over her skin, she’s not sure how much alcohol she would need to consume in order to appear seemingly normal in front of Harry.

That was last night. Now, as her hangover starts to settle in, Ryan’s decided that she needs advice. The brutally honest kind that usually fell unapologetically from the lips of her best mate Fiona. 

“So let me get this straight, your new neighbor just so happens to be fit as all hell, and you’ve had a handful of conversations with him without making a complete fool of yourself, and you still haven’t shagged him? What am I missing here, Ry?” Fiona’s voice calls out from Ryan’s mobile that’s leaning against her porcelain fruit bowl, the camera angle allowing her to be able to see Fiona while attempting to cook some sort of pasta dish to cure the throbbing in her head.

“Fee, I got fucking rug burn on my knee from tripping over my own bloody feet the first time I met him!” Ryan recalls, the memory causing her head to shake aggressively, trying her hardest to expel it from her brain.

“Well, I did say complete fool,” Fiona retorts, causing Ryan to roll her eyes as she tries her hardest to follow the vodka sauce recipe she found on Pinterest. She’s eyeing the heavy cream she just added to the saucepan, wondering if the color should be pinker.

“I think it’s for the best if I just continue avoiding him for the rest of my life,” Ryan says, opening the box of ziti and throwing it into the boiling pot on the back left burner. 

She can hear Fiona laugh over the hiss of the water. “Stop with the dramatics! You’re starting to sound like me.”

Ryan just ignores her friend, stirring the sauce that’s starting to smell. She instantly reaches for the parmesan cheese, adding more aimlessly to change the viscosity into something that doesn’t resemble broth. 

“This could be great for you, Ry,” Fiona says through the screen once Ryan’s reappeared in front of her.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asks, a bit distracted with the way the saucepan on the hob begins to gurgle inconspicuously.

“Because he’s fit. And he literally lives right next door. This is fantastic news! You can get laid without even leaving your building! Especially during quarantine with the entire city on lockdown!” While Ryan loves her friend, she hates the way Fiona says certain words, her voice level rising with each stressed syllable. She’s speaking so loudly that Ryan thinks back to how Harry referred to hearing Mrs. Bingsley banging about in the kitchen when she used to live in this unit, and immediately Ryan lowers the volume on her mobile, grabbing it from its spot against the fruit bowl and turning into her living room to be as far away from the thin walls as possible.

“I’m not sleeping with him, Fiona. I literally just met him,” Ryan says, sitting on the arm rail of her couch, watching Luna in her periphery continue sleeping soundly against the throw pillows. 

“But you want to.”

Ryan stays silent, wondering if that’s what the bubbling and fluttering and pinching of all her insides means. Wondering if all of these feelings can simply be associated to sexual attraction.

“Why don’t you knock on his door and ask for a plunger or something?” Fiona says, breaking the silence. Ryan instantly disagrees, her eyes widening in fear.

“No, that’s a terrible idea! I don’t want him to think I’ve clogged up my fucking toilet,” Ryan shrieks, knowing that move would definitely work on a girl like Fiona—confident, unrelenting, and fearless. But for a girl like Ryan, whose cheeks turn red whenever a boy like Harry even looks in her direction, she knows there’s no way she can handle that.

Fiona sighs. “You’re probably right.” 

Before Ryan can respond, the blaring sound of the smoke detector going off from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts. “Shit!” she screeches, jumping up from her seated position and running into the kitchen, her mobile clutched in her fist as she approaches the stovetop. The saucepan with the once pinkish-red sauce has now turned black, the edges burnt to a crisp, smoke rising from the top because Ryan forgot to lower the heat to a simmer. The pot with the pasta has boiled over, water falling onto the burner with a loud fizzle. “Fuck!”

“Christ, Ryan! Only you can burn fucking pasta!” Fiona shouts through her mobile, and Ryan immediately discards the device on the countertop, flicking the burners off. She reaches for the dishtowel near the sink, waving it under the smoke detector to make the incessant noise cease.

“It won’t fucking stop!” Ryan bellows, switching the towel to her left arm. If Harry didn’t hear her before, he definitely heard her now, and the thought is enough to make her wave her arms frantically, praying for the smoke detector to shut off.

“Open the front door, get some airflow in the flat, you twit! Twenty-seven and still can’t cook a bloody meal, it’s a shock how you’ve survived this long on your own—”

Ryan doesn’t stay in the kitchen long enough to hear the rest of Fiona’s comment. Instead, she’s spinning on her heels towards her front door, opening it up partly in hope to get the smell of burnt food out of her flat.

Just as she walks back into the kitchen, the beeping finally stops, and Ryan feels as if she can finally breathe again. Her cheeks are stained red from the exertion of flailing her arms about, the stray hairs from her low ponytail sticking to the nape of her neck uncomfortably. She takes in the state of her kitchen, annoyed with herself that she got too preoccupied with Fiona’s ramblings instead of focusing on cooking her pathetic meal.

“Have you died?” The sound echoes from the countertop where Ryan left her mobile, and for a moment Ryan forgets that Fiona was waiting for her. She saunters over slowly, leaning her mobile on the toaster oven so that she can rest her bent elbows on the countertop, her hands falling over her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Knew I should’ve gone with the boxed mac and cheese,” Ryan mumbles, catching her breath.

Fiona laughs. “I appreciate the attempt, Jamie Oliver. You’ve probably scared Luna half to death, poor thing.” 

At the mention of her kitten’s name, Ryan immediately swivels her head around to the living room, eyes falling to the spot on the couch her white British Shorthair was just occupying. But when she looks closer, she realizes that Luna is gone.

She quickly stands up straight, telling Fiona she’ll call her back before ending the FaceTime call, entering the living room to search every nook and cranny for her kitten. Luna’s small body is nowhere near the couch or armchairs, her cat tree is empty, and when Ryan takes a look in her bedroom and finds absolutely nothing, she’s suddenly filled with fear at the fact that her kitten has disappeared.

Before Ryan can have a full-blown meltdown at the loss of her meal and kitten in the span of ten minutes, she hears the faint echo of a meow from the other side of her front door. A tiny giggle follows after, and suddenly Ryan’s head is peering out into the hallway, falling on the sight of Luna laying on the carpet with her tummy up in the air, and Jackson’s small hands rubbing soothing circles in her fur.

“What would your dad say about you leaving the flat without him?” Ryan calls out from her doorframe, watching the way Jackson’s face lights up when he realizes it is her speaking to him.

“Daddy will probably be mad. But I heard the kitty outside when I was playing! I didn’t know you had one!” He’s smiling so wide it causes Ryan to immediately do the same, despite her borderline breakdown a few moments prior. She trots over towards the pair, crouching down in front of them and balancing on the heels of her socked-clad heels, watching the way Luna purrs at Jackson’s soft strokes.

“I do. This is Luna,” Ryan answers, grinning when Jackson begins cooing at the tiny animal.

“Hi Luna, I’m Jackson. You’re so soft.” He’s whispering to her and Ryan isn’t quite sure why, and when Luna suddenly flips over and sits on Jackson’s lap, Ryan feels her heart swell at the sight of two tiny things cuddling up to one another.

The silence is broken by a gruff, frustrated voice. “Jackson! You can’t keep runnin’ off—oh.”

Three pairs of different colored eyes look up at the intrusion, and suddenly Harry’s anger dissipates at the sight of his son holding a cute kitten in his lap. A cute kitten that just so happens to belong to his even cuter neighbor who he seemingly can’t stop thinking about.

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at. 

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

Ryan just smiles shyly, swallowing harshly when Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, his large palms cupping his bulging biceps under the thin material of his shirt. She coughs into her fist, realizing now that she probably should stand up from her crouched position so that she’s no longer staring up at him underneath the cover of her eyelashes.

“Daddy look! Ryan has a kitty!” Jackson squeals, his cheek squished against Luna’s tiny face as he pets behind her ears, causing her whole body to vibrate with a deep purr.

Harry looks between Luna and Ryan, that slow smirk grazing his lips that causes Ryan’s cheeks to burn with a deep blush. “I can see that, Bubs.” His voice is so deep Ryan can feel it settle into her bones, and suddenly she wishes her hair wasn’t tied behind her head in a ponytail so that she could hide her reddened cheeks under the deep brown tendrils. 

Before she can speak, a loud whistle from Harry’s flat breaks the silence. His upper body shifts away from the doorframe so that he’s standing straight, arms falling back to his sides as he peers behind the entranceway to ensure that the steam is blowing from the spout of the kettle on the hob.

“Fancy some tea, Ryan?” Harry asks once he’s turned back in her direction. 

Ryan quickly stumbles to stand upright, wiping her sweaty palms on her cotton biker shorts. An oversized band tee she stole from her ex-boyfriend swishes with her hasty movements, and she can feel her head shaking before her mouth can say no.

“Uh, I’m okay. Don’t want to impose or anything,” she stutters, the sound of her thick woolen mid-calf socks scuffling against the carpeting with her incessant shuffling due to the influx of nerves that begin creeping up her spine.

“Please, Ryan? I can play with Luna! I’m a great sitter,” Jackson proclaims loudly from his seated position behind her. Once again, Ryan finds herself struggling to say no to her new friend with just one look into his beady green eyes. With nothing but a small smile, Ryan’s nodding in Jackson’s direction, her grin growing larger when he scoops up Luna in his little arms, ducking past his father and entering the flat.

Harry chuckles, holding the door open a bit wider so that Ryan can follow him inside.

She’s watching as he ducks into the kitchen, shutting off the burner so that the whistling kettle can quiet down. Ryan watches Jackson plop Luna on the soft emerald rug, laying on his stomach so that he can observe her every move. After guaranteeing that her kitten is in good hands, Ryan enters the kitchen, settling on one of the dark leather barstools and watching Harry grab two tea mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

As his arm extends to reach the top shelf, Ryan can’t help but take note of the contrast between his right and left arm. His left arm was ornamented with various black etchings, flowing across his skin in a strange way that somehow looked beautiful. When Ryan watches his right arm reach out to grab the tea bags, the untouched skin practically blinding against the harsh overhead lights, she feels her throat suddenly dry up—and she’s left wondering if she should add this to her growing list of symptoms she feels whenever she’s around Harry.

“Sugar? Milk?” Harry asks, his back still to her as he rummages around the drawers to prepare their tea. 

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the way his thin t-shirt practically hides nothing, the ebb and flow of his back muscles constricting with each gentle movement he makes as he grasps the sugar from the counter and grips the milk from the fridge.

When he turns to meet her at the kitchen island, he clutches both mugs in one hand, the other holding both the sugar jar and milk carton. Ryan’s forced to look away, her mind completely fogging over at the site.

The sound of the ceramic mugs clinking against the granite counter causes Ryan to look up, smiling softly when he pushes the tea in her direction. Just before her hands can clasp around the handle, she regards the black script tattoo above the crook of his elbow, the words Jackson in lowercase lettering make her breath hitch in her throat.

“How have you been, all right?” Harry asks from across the island, reaching for the milk and adding a generous amount to the murky tea. His eyes are busy focusing on the task at hand, and Ryan can finally feel herself calm down a bit.

“Yeah, been okay. You?” she responds, blowing a bit on her tea before bringing the mug to her lips, swallowing deeply and reveling in the taste of the brew. Harry’s eyebrows arch when he notices that she takes her tea black, but he doesn’t make a comment about it, choosing instead to rest his forearms on the counter, pushing his mug a bit closer towards Ryan’s as he leans against the island, infiltrating her personal space just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, okay. Bit shit with the weather, though. Jackson’s been going crazy,” he comments, his mouth far too distracting when he licks the spilled over tea on his lower lip. Ryan flicks her head over in Jackson’s direction, thankful that she can look at something other than Harry’s stupidly good-looking face.

Ryan hums in agreement, bringing the tea back to her lips as she swivels back in her stool, her eyes back on Harry’s. 

“That cat of yours will give him another reason to talk about you for hours,” Harry says with a grin.

“If it weren’t for his knack of sneaking out of your flat, Luna probably would have ended up on the seventh floor. Guess I owe him a proper thank you,” Ryan counters, smiling at the fact that she made Harry laugh.

“Little shit never listens to me,” Harry says lightly, and Ryan suddenly wonders if he has any help looking after Jackson.

She starts to look around the kitchen for any hints of a feminine touch. The state of his flat is disgustingly clean, and when she observes the fridge to see if there are any photographs of Jackson’s mum, she’s found that there’s nothing but artwork most likely done by the hands of a four-year-old.

When she shifts her head to the other side of the room, where the kitchen flows into the living room, she doesn’t really find anything new. The walls are still filled with records, the instruments are still lining the walls, the couch is still void of throw pillows. Ryan tries to visualize the entranceway, trying her hardest to remember if she noticed any heeled boots or women’s jackets on the coat rack.

She hasn’t known Harry long, barely a month at this point, and in that short period of time she’s never heard him speak about a woman before. Ryan’s not stupid—she knows that both sexes are needed to produce a child—but she’s truly never seen a woman enter or exit Harry’s flat.

Granted, it’s only been a month. And she isn’t really sure if she can call him her friend yet, therefore she feels a bit odd in asking. Ryan’s come to the conclusion that maybe Jackson’s mum is an essential worker, a nurse perhaps, a profession in which she has the luxury of leaving her home to go to work.

“Ryan?” Harry’s oaky voice breaks Ryan out of her headspace, and suddenly she’s blinking in Harry’s direction, embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t listening to anything he had just said to her in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” she responds lamely, bringing the mug to her lips with the goal of hiding the lower half of her flushed cheeks.

Harry just laughs, cocking his head to the side to observe her intently. “Doesn’t matter. Lost you for a minute in there.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Ryan responds, wishing Harry would stop looking at her as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to know every little thing about her.

Ryan’s eyes squint in confusion. “Does what happen?”

“That,” Harry starts, taking a sip of his tea without tearing his eyes away from Ryan’s. “You getting lost in your own head.”

Ryan quietly contemplates Harry’s comment, watching the way he watches her with intrigue. As a serial overthinker, Ryan knows that she retreats sometimes, mulling over her words intensely before speaking. Unlike Fiona who blurts every thought that runs through her head, Ryan’s always been more critical, obsessing over every detail before verbalizing. It’s the only thing that helps subdue her social anxiety.

But she’s found that whenever she’s around Harry, she can’t bring herself to think about anything, really. It’s as if her mind is blank, encouraging her to speak what she truly feels, without all the thinking that usually comes along with it.

She’s not quite sure what that all means.

So she just shrugs, sipping softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry nods before changing the subject, which makes Ryan feel relieved. “So, my quiet, reclusive neighbor is also a cat lady? It’s far too fitting, Ryan.” He’s teasing her a bit and it’s enough to make Ryan giggle, the sound practically causing Harry to splutter his tea over the rim of his mug. 

“I’m all about clichés, clearly,” Ryan responds, her eyes zeroing in on the hollow dimples that appear around his mouth whenever he laughs. She finds herself enjoying the sight very much.

“She’s cute,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Luna to the woman sitting across from him. Ryan assumes he’s talking about her kitten, and she smiles, swiveling around in her chair to watch Jackson giggle whenever Luna’s paws graze his arms. But when she feels Harry’s gaze on her cheek, she’s wondering if he’s talking about something else, too.

“He’s good with her,” Ryan acknowledges, impressed with how gentle Jackson was with Luna. Most toddlers his age were too handsy with her, scaring her off before she even got the chance to get used to them. But Jackson is proving to be a natural, allowing Luna to grow comfortable around him before he started playing with her.

Harry finally looks over to his son, smiling at the sight in the living room. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Ryan turns round to face Harry again. “He really is. Guess he has you to thank for that. And his mum, I suppose.”

Harry’s face suddenly loses its grin, and Ryan’s wondering if she’s said too much. His eyes have lost their shine, and the granite countertop seems to be more interesting than Ryan’s face. Before she can say anything, an apology or some version of one, the computer in the corner of the living room begins to ring loudly, causing Harry to stand upright and peer at the clock on the microwave screen.

“Shit. Forgot I had a four o’clock meeting,” he says quickly, gathering his mug in one hand and crossing the threshold so that he’s entering the living room space. Ryan stands up, frowning down at her half-emptied cup of tea, wondering what blend Harry uses because it’s just that good, and she’s a bit sad to leave it unfinished.

Harry turns around, catching the frown on Ryan’s face. “You can finish it at yours if you’d like,” he offers with a small smile. 

“Oh, no it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to—”

“—Ryan,” Harry says, cutting her off and walking towards her so that he’s fully in her line of vision, “It’s fine. ‘S not like I don’t know where you live.” The smirk is back on his face and the blush is back coating Ryan’s cheeks, and suddenly the balance has been restored in their small universe.

Ryan nods, clutching the mug tightly in her hands and side-stepping Harry in order to reach Jackson and Luna on the living room floor. “‘M sorry, champ, but Luna and I have got to go.”

“Really?” Jackson says, tearing his eyes away from Luna and onto the two adults standing in front of him. He’s frowning and Ryan instantly feels bad.

“Yeah, Bubs, daddy’s got work to do. I’m sure you can see Luna again very soon, if Ryan’s okay with it,” Harry says, causing two pairs of green eyes to fall onto her frame.

She nods quickly, crouching down in front of her small friend and grabbing Luna in her unoccupied hand. “Of course, champ. We’ll schedule a playdate.”

Jackson grins enthusiastically, wiggling on the floor with excitement. Before Ryan can respond, Harry appears in front of her, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Ryan,” he mutters in a low timbre.

“Bye, Harry. Thanks again for the tea,” she responds, heading towards the doorway in her socks and leaving the confines of his flat, trying her hardest to catch her breath in the silence of the empty hallway.

It’s only once she’s back in her own flat, her sad attempt of dinner disposed of in the bin and in its place an oversized bowl of cereal in one hand, with Harry’s mug in the other, Ryan comes to a startling realization.

Harry’s tea mug was a far better alternative than the fucking plunger.

*** A/N: Hi guys, here’s part three of you feel like home! I hope you enjoyed it. Part four will be posted on Thursday November 19, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light​ @onlyphysicallypresent​ @dontwanttobealone​ @justsaying20​ @elemayox​ @awomanindeniall​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum​ @kakayam​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @hopelessly-harry​ @ficnarry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @niallgolden​ @harryswinterberries​ @caramello-styles

[sharktofu]

Come Home with Me: AO3

Eventual Steter with a green-eyed kitten. Chapter 1/?

Everything changes during one stormy night. Well, that's a bit overdramatic, but mostly right. Kinda.

The rain is pouring down on Stiles, who spent most of the night running through the pixie-overrun forest with his trusty bat. 

He's tired, he's hungry and he's so soaked his socks are now new layer of his skin. 

Aaaand he hears a meow.

That heart-wretching, small, pathetic meow that he knows he cannot ignore. He wants to, he's covered in pixie guts and he has an exam tomorrow morning (today). He just wants to leave and collapse on his bed in all his drowned glory.

The meow repeats, even smaller this time.

Stiles spins on his heels, throwing droplets of water around him, and stares in the emerald green eyes of a cat.

(He lets out a sigh of relief, because it would be just his luck if it turned out there's no cat, but something really Stiles-hungry.)

Actually, it looks more like a kitten with how tiny the little beastie is. Its black fur clings to its frail-looking body and he looks positively miserable, but its tail wags from side to side like an angered cobra.

Stiles is fucked. Totally, completely fucked.

"Here kitty, kitty," he coos at the kitten as he slowly drops to his knees. For a split second he thinks about mud and his poor jeans, but in the end his whole outfit is beyond saving. 

Lydia would be pleased.

"What do you even say to get the cat?" he muses, when the kitten keeps meowing from a safe distance. It's pathetic, seriously. "Come here, little dude. I've got an old tee calling your name... I can even throw in my pillow, but only if you come right now so we don't have to drown in this goddamn rain."

Whether were it Stiles' warm and careful words or maybe the sudden lightning that struck nearby, but finally the little stray jumps - first in fear and then into Stiles' open arms. In a flash the kitten finds its way under his hoodie.

"Ungrateful bastard," Stiles hisses, when little claws come out to play. He peers under the fabric and the little darkness stares right back at him. It even starts purring. "Damn, you're cute."

He left the car at home, so they have to carefully make it out of the forest and back into the civilization on foot.

"You're cute and you know it, little heartbreak," Stiles baby-talks the whole trek home, completely blasé how crazy he might look. He stopped caring years ago, he's not gonna start now. Too little, too late and all that.

The house is dark and empty, but at least it's warm and dry. The clock on the wall laughs at Stiles, showing it's almost 4 am.

"Rude," he mutters under his breath. His father must still be on his night shift, which makes sense as it's still night. Duh.

Stiles drips water everywhere, walking to the bathroom, but there's nothing he can actually do about it right now. 

The hot shower calls him by name, but so is his hoodie. Well, not quite. He'd probably have a heart attack, if the cat called him by his given name. 

He sighs, deep and resigned, and strips out of his clothes, gently extracting the kitty. He then starts to very carefully dry its little body. 

"I'm gonna take you to Deaton later and hope to fuck you're not chipped," he tells the tiny furball, who is set on catching his fingers with its baby paws. "It'd be really stupid to murder someone over a cat."

The kitten looks up and blinks at him with its big green eyes. Somehow it looks offended.

"Of course I would, what are you, stupid?" he snorts and the cat rubs against his fingers. "I'm just saying it'd be stupid, not that I won't do it."

The beastie yawns at Stiles and he cannot stop himself from dropling a soft kiss on the top of its head. The little ears twitch and Stiles melts. 

"You need a name, little terror," he decides, gathering the cat in his arms and moving to the kitchen. He drops it on the floor and watches fondly as it scurries around the room, sniffing everything.

Stiles looks through their dishes, searching for something to put in some food for the cat. He emerges victorious with a shallow bowl that would be perfect and pours in some milk. He puts it on the floor near the kitten and it trips over its little paws, running to the bowl. 

Stiles heart grows three times. He hates it.

His new baby dives in and Stiles coos at it, completely lovestruck. Sue him, he gets attached quickly - he deserves it for single-handedly getting rid off of the murderous pixies, while he should be studying for his Psych exam.

"What about Taylor?" he asks, rummaging through the fridge. He doesn't know what's suitable to eat for kittens, but he can't let the little guy starve. Or girl. "You need a gender neutral name, because... Well, because I said so, so there's that."

"Maybe Charlie? Like Weasley, because you can be a magical cat. It wouldn't be the strangest thing that happened in my life," he finds some bacon strips. Not turkey, so he needs to have another long talk with his father. Though, they're perfect (probably) for his new housemate. "Okay, you're not a Weasley. Obviously. Hmmm... What about Ezra?"

It must be it, because the kitten looks up from his bowl - from the strips of delicious meat, and that reminds Stiles, how hungry he is - and rubs against Stiles' outstretched hand. 

Stiles' heart thwas and he hates it. Gods, but the cat is adorable.

He sits there, starstruck, staring at the little furball, when his phone rings. He runs to the bathroom, where he left it, cursing whoever might be calling him. 

Turns out, noone is. It's his alarm, reminding him to get the fuck up, because he has an hour-long drive to get to the campus. 

That's what he gets for spending time at his dad's, when his landlord takes care of the lack of heating in his flat.

"Fuck," he swears, looking at the time. "Ezra, pack your bags, we're going shopping!"

He sprints around the house, collecting his stuff and cursing all the known gods, while Ezra happily munches on the becon.

[btswritingblog]

You Found Me In The Dark- Chapter 7

Taehyung wakes up on the cold hard floor. Wait, the floor? He slowly opens his eyes to find himself next to the couch, sprawled out. Without a pillow or blanket. And to be completely honest, he didn't remember going to sleep last night. He just remembered...plotting. Brainstorming. Coming up with ideas on how to get Yoongi back from Jungkook's magnetic hold. That's when Taehyung notices the papers scattered on the floor and Jungkook standing there, trying to read them. He panics and scrambles towards the papers, trying to scoop them into his arms as quick as possible.

"Long night?" Jungkook inquires, cocking his head to the side.

Taehyung shrugs, pulling the papers towards his chest which crinkle loudly, "I guess you could say that."

"Are you planning kill me or something?" Jungkook chuckles, trying to read what all the chicken scratch is.

Taehyung chokes on his spit, "I-what?" He starts laughing frantically, "You're funny, Jungkook."

Jungkook stands there, now giving Taehyung a slightly worried look, "I...was only joking but now I'm not so sure? You're acting kind of weird."

"No, I was looking at...statistics."

"Since when do you look at statistics?" Yoongi asks as he walks out from the bedroom, fixing the cuff on his shirt.

Jungkook turns and smiles, "Morning, sleepy head."

Yoongi throws him a half hearted smile but it disappears quickly. Is he okay?

"Are you going somewhere?" Taehyung asks, looking Yoongi up and down. He's wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. Taehyung hasn't seen him dress this nice since a bachelor party they had to go to, which was almost 2 years ago.

"We're going to the recording studio downtown," Yoongi tells him.

"We?"

"Me and Yoongi," Jungkook says, smiling softly.

Taehyung wants to wipe that smile right off Jungkook's pretty face, but he takes a deep breath and calms himself instead.

"So...you're actually going to show them your music?" Taehyung asks, smiling over at Yoongi. Once again, trying to hide the hurt that's written all over his face. Not to mention, the fact that he's making this huge step in his life and didn't invite Taehyung along. Just Jungkook. Why is he surprised by this? He already suspected that they'd both forget about him but I guess this situation is just...different. Bigger and more important, especially to Yoongi.

He nods, "Yeah...I think I'm finally ready. I couldn't have done it without your help."

"You're wel-" (Taehyung)

"I'm glad I-" (Jungkook)

Silence.

Why does this keep happening?

Yoongi looks between the both of them and frowns a bit, "I uh...I was talking to Jungkook."

Pain. That wonderful feeling that puts you in agony. Taehyung can feel his heart shatter, even though this is a small thing. Actually, no it's not small. It may seem small but it's huge to Taehyung. Why? Because music is Yoongi's passion. Taehyung has supported him through everything. Since day one, it was him who picked Yoongi up from the bathroom floor after his drunken stupor. It was Taehyung who wiped away Yoongi's tears. It was Taehyung who cussed out the producer who said Yoongi would never make it, no matter how hard he tried. It was Taehyung who begged Yoongi to show him his music but accepted the fact that Yoongi didn't want to and lived with it. It was fucking Taehyung who told Yoongi he was good enough when he stood on the brink of suicide because he thought he wasn't good enough and never would be. But never once did Yoongi listen to Taehyung's pursuits in getting him to try again. He's worked on his skills and has gotten better. So after everything they've been through...Yoongi chose Jungkook. He chose Jungkook to be the one who makes him feel like he's enough. He chose Jungkook to be the one to show his music to and give in to his ideas of trying again. Going for his dream. Taehyung wants to be that. Last time he checked, he was Yoongi's everything. Now...what is he now? A waste of space? A nuisance? But now isn't the time for Taehyung to pity himself. If he wants this, he'll just have to push through and prove to Yoongi that he's enough. He needs to be strong, otherwise he'll just look pathetic to Yoongi. He's proud of Yoongi, despite his decision, and he knows he can do it.  

So, Taehyung holds back and paints on a smile, "Wow, great!"

Yoongi seems surprised that Taehyung is so calm about this, so he can't help but smile.

"We have to leave soon, hun," Jungkook says.

"Oh, yeah, you're right," Yoongi says, turning to grab his shoes which are placed by the front door.

Jungkook looks back at Taehyung. "Thank you."

"Huh?"

"For...letting me have this." Jungkook gives Taehyung a sincere smile and it...kind of worries him. Scares him, almost.

"What do you m-"

"Okay, let's go." Yoongi strides over and grabs Jungkook's arm, "We'll be back later."

"Don't wait up," Jungkook says.

"Yeah, I won't..." Taehyung mumbles as he watches them disappear out the door. He was angry last night but now he's just...hurt. Confused. Lost. He's not sure what to do because he feels unwanted and pathetic. "Yoongi will be better off without me."

After a couple minutes of staring at the wall, thinking over his choices and what he should do because he still loves Yoongi, Taehyung finds the courage to pick himself up off the floor. He grabs all the papers that he'd written last night and throws them in the trash. He doesn't need them anymore. Jungkook isn't his problem now; he's Yoongi's. Taehyung just hopes that Jungkook will treat Yoongi right. Obviously treat him better than Taehyung ever could. If Yoongi was so quick to choose Jungkook to lead him into the biggest decision of his life, then Taehyung wasn't good enough. And it hurt to realize that because he thought he was a good boyfriend. I guess you really don't see the pain you may have caused until it's staring right back at you.

Taehyung grabs a duffle bag from the closet and starts to shove a bunch of clothes in. He needs to leave for a couple days. Or should he leave forever? Nah, a couple days is good. Take the time to think at least. He also wants to, passive aggressively, show Yoongi that this can't go on any longer. It isn't a polyamorous relationship anymore, like Yoongi suggested. It's two-sided now, and sadly, Taehyung is playing monkey in the middle. Trying to get love and affection from either one of them, but he gets neglected. This isn't what he wants but is it what he deserves?

Taehyung isn't going to leave without a trace, even though he kind of wants to. He isn't going to be childish about this. So, he leaves something for Yoongi before heading out.

A half an hour later, Taehyung is knocking on Namjoon's door. It's almost time for his shift so he isn't surprised to find him freshly showered.

"Taehyung?"

"Let me in."

"Whoa, hold on. What's going on?" Namjoon asks, running his fingers through his wet blonde hair.

"I just...it's a long story," Taehyung tells him, staring down at his feet.

Namjoon sighs, "Fine, come in." He steps away from the doorway and beckons Taehyung in.

When the door closes behind them, Namjoon continues to get ready so Taehyung takes a seat on the brown couch, which is surprisingly soft.

"Why don't you work today?" Namjoon shouts, from the bathroom down the hall.

"Uh, I don't know? Just didn't get scheduled." Namjoon scoffs but the conversation ends there. Suddenly, Taehyung hears a soft meow from behind the couch. "Kitty!" He whispers. He gets down on his hands and knees to look behind the couch, "Oh my god, Namjoon, you have a cat?!"

"Uhh...no?"

Taehyung freezes and stares at the green eyes that are looking back at him. Why does he suddenly want to scream? It's just a cat.

"Then...why is there a cat behind your couch?"

"What?!" Namjoon shouts, running out of the bathroom towards Taehyung. The random cat gets startled and runs out from behind the couch, right towards Namjoon, which causes Taehyung to fall backwards onto his ass. "Oh shit!" Namjoon screeches and out of fear, he punts the cat right into the wall. A loud meow erupts from it and it starts hissing nonstop.

"NAMJOON!" Taehyung yells, crawling towards the cat.

"Oh my god, I didn't mean to do that," he says quietly, backing away.

"Okay!? But you did!! Oh my god, kitty are you okay?" Taehyung cradles the cat in his arms.

Namjoon just shakes his head, "I have to leave. I guess I'll see you later."

Taehyung whips towards him, frowning, "What about the cat!?"

"What do you want me to do? It isn't even mine. I think it's my neighbors."

"I-I don't know, put it back!!" Taehyung shouts, nudging the cat towards Namjoon.

Namjoon sighs loudly and walks over to the cat. "Hey little guy," he says, awkwardly picking it up. It hisses and Namjoon almost drops it. "Shit, get me some oven mitts."

"What, why?" Even though Taehyung asks why, he goes and finds oven mitts in the kitchen, throwing them at Namjoon.

Namjoon slips them on his hands and holds the cat in his hands, keeping it as far from his face as possible. The cat is still hissing periodically but Namjoon quickly carries it out the door and over to his neighbor's house. He doesn't really want to knock on the door, so he awkwardly sets the somewhat injured cat on the doorstep and runs away. Taehyung is watching out the window when Namjoon comes back.

"Why did you just set it there?"

"I wasn't going to knock on the door and just...give it to her."

"Can't handle the guilt?"

Namjoon shakes his head, "I'm going to work. Don't let anymore stray cats into my apartment."

"Gotcha."

When Namjoon closes the door, Taehyung starts laughing. That poor cat, but Tae has been here for 10 minutes and he's already causing problems. No wonder why Yoongi doesn't want him.

~Later that day~

Yoongi leaves the producers studio bursting with happiness. "He liked it! Holy shit!"

"I told you that you could do it!" Jungkook says, grabbing Yoongi's hand and squeezing it.

"Yeah...thank you." Yoongi can picture Taehyung's sad face back when he admitted that Jungkook and him were going to the studio. Without him. Even though Taehyung was the one who kept telling Yoongi to do this. To try again and follow his dreams.

Jungkook tilts his head, "Is everything okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, why wouldn't it be? I'm gonna do something with my life...finally! I can't wait to tell Taehyung," Yoongi says.

Jungkook stops, "But...wasn't he dragging you down, Yoongi?"

Yoongi stops too and turns towards Jungkook, "...what?"

"Wasn't he stopping you from living your life? That's why it took this long for you to get back here."

Yoongi thinks back to the times he failed to get signed. Taehyung was there for him, comforting him but...he never stopped him? He was always the one telling him to follow his dreams and not give up.

"What are you talking about? Tae has...always been there for me."

Jungkook sighs, "Yeah, but did he just pretend to care? Like, if you got a job, that meant you would go out, meet new people, and possibly fall in love with someone else," Jungkook says. "People like that are..toxic. They're happy you can't proceed because they want to keep you where you are...to have you all for themselves."

Yoongi doesn't respond, mostly because he doesn't know what to say. Taehyung isn't the kind of person to do that...is he?

"See, I wouldn't do that to you, Yoongi. I'm here for you, right now. And where's Taehyung? At home, unaware of your accomplishment."

"That's because I haven't told him yet," Yoongi mutters, trying to sound as cocky as possible.

Jungkook laughs sheepishly, "Listen to yourself, standing up for him." He shakes his head, "It's sort of pathetic."

Yoongi's head shoots up, "Who, me?"

"You and Tae's relationship is pathetic, yes."

"What are you even talking about? You're part of this too."

"Not really. Haven't you noticed Taehyung withdrawing from it all?"

Yoongi, once again, thinks back to recent events and just like Jungkook said, Taehyung hasn't exactly been 'active'. He keeps to himself. Stays out of the way, like he's trying not to bother them.

"Oh god," Yoongi whispers, "What if he's in love with someone else?" Yoongi feels kind of stupid for going to this automatically but...what if he is? He's never thought about Taehyung falling in love with someone else and now that he does, Yoongi starts to panic.

Jungkook smirks internally. "Oh, honey, no." He moves to hug Yoongi. Yoongi lets Jungkook embrace him but he doesn't move to return it. There's something...off about Jungkook's attitude right now. "Don't let Tae pull you down, okay?" Jungkook says.

"I'm so...confused."

"I know, but I'm here for you."

Yoongi sighs, "Whatever. Lets just go ho-...back to the apartment." He isn't sure if he wants to call it home with Jungkook right now.

When they reach the apartment, they find the door locked. "Why is it locked?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Yoongi mumbles.

Jungkook pulls out his keys and swiftly unlocks the door, "Taehyung?"

No response.

"Did he work today?"

Yoongi shrugs, "I'm not sure. Maybe?"

"Would have been nice of him to tell us," Jungkook mutters, setting his keys on the counter. Yoongi doesn't respond. The house feels more empty than just someone not being here.

"Ooh, did he leave a love note?" Jungkook stands at the table in the kitchen next to a note. Next to it is a key. A key to the apartment. Yoongi practically pushes Jungkook out of the way and snatches the note off the table. His heart drops when he sees the key.

"Fuck..."

"What’s wrong?" Jungkook asks, trying to read the letter over his shoulder.

Yoongi spins around, "Back. Off." Jungkook's face twists up in surprise and hurt, but he steps back, giving Yoongi space.

'Yoongi, you know I never want to hurt you. Or leave you for that matter, but right now...you're not giving me much of a choice. I'm not sure if it's you or Jungkook, but I'm getting left out. Of everything. What happened to your proposition?'

"Nothing happened!" Yoongi is gripping the paper so hard he's almost crumpling it.

'Everything has fallen apart...at least for me. I'm sorry I'm doing this. Remember a while ago...when you said you'd fight for me whenever, no matter what? What about that, Yoongi? What about us? I blame myself for most of this. I got us into the mess...especially with Jungkook. I can't take it back or fix it. The best I can do right now is leave. You seem...happier with Jungkook. More at ease. I like seeing you that way. Relaxed and happy.'

"But I'm not happy...not without you."

"What's going on?" Jungkook questions from across the room. He doesn't dare come any closer to Yoongi.

'So...Yoongs, my Yoongi, never forget that I love you and cherish you, so much. Also, congrats on getting signed...I knew you could do it.'

Yoongi places a hand over his mouth, trying to stop himself from making...any noise whatsoever. He..knew? He believed Yoongi could do it. He was confident that Yoongi would get it and wasn't afraid to write it on this note. God...Taehyung is too good for this world.

'Enjoy it. You'll do so good. -Love, Tae'

"Fuck," Yoongi chokes. He can feel tears building behind his eyes but he won't let himself cry. Not in front of Jungkook.

Oh, yeah, Jungkook...

"You fucking bastard!" Yoongi spits, pointing his finger at Jungkook. He's eating an apple, so a chewed part of it falls out of his mouth when he gapes at Yoongi. "You...you had this planned all along, didn't you?"

Jungkook swallows, "Uhm...what are you talking about?" Yoongi catches sight of Jungkook's phone on the counter, so he grabs it and hurls it at the wall right next to his head. "What the fuck?! My phone!"

"You're a lying asshole, you know that?" Jungkook glances up and tries to look innocent. "No, don't look at me like that."

"Yoongi, don't do this," he cries softly, almost reaching out towards Yoongi.

"Don't do what, hmm? If you really did this to Tae...god, you're disgusting."

"I just....wanted someone to actually love me for once," Jungkook breaks, sliding down the wall.

"...what? That's not how you get love, Jungkook! You don't manipulate someone for your own benefit. Didn't your parents teach you how to love?"

"No. My parents never even loved me. That's why I'm so clueless and I just wanted someone to show me what it's like...how to do it. How it feels."

Yoongi shakes his head, "Don't try to drag me into your pity party, this has gone on long enough."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Trying to get you to understand me! I've...never grown so close to someone like I have to you, Yoongi." Yoongi finds himself staying quiet, waiting for Jungkook to continue. "In the past 2 months, you've showed me how to love. When I first saw you, I knew there was something special about you. So, I used Tae to get to you."

Yoongi shakes his head, "No way."

"Yoongi, I'm not lying. I know, it was a fucked up and selfish thing to do but he was my only connection to you! I just had to have you. And I got even more selfish during this relationship. I wanted you all to myself."

"So, you've been trying to put the blame on Taehyung?" Yoongi asks, crossing his arms.

Jungkook nods, "Kind of...yeah."

"Jungkook...baby."

Jungkook quickly glances up to meet Yoongi's eyes.

"You're a sick twisted fuck. I want you out. Now."

Jungkook flinches at Yoongi's change of voice. "Yoongi, no-"

"Now!"

Jungkook pushes himself off the floor and gathers his broken phone in his hands. He goes to grab the keys but Yoongi stops him.

"Leave it."

"But...Yoongi why?"

"You're not welcome here anymore."

Jungkook backs out slowly and Yoongi catches a tear rolling down his face before the door closes. Is he actually crying? Yoongi hears a soft thud and mumbling.

"Jungkook, go," he says through the door.

"I never meant to hurt you guys," he sobs. Jungkook takes a deep breath, "I'm so sorry, Yoongi. I just...I love you." Yoongi feels his heart wrench but he stops himself from caring. Or at least tries to. But...Jungkook just said he loves him? Is he serious?

Yoongi scrambles to throw the door open, "Jungkook wa-"

But it's too late.

He's already gone.

Ahhhh, I bet you're wondering what happens next? THIS LOVE TRIANGLE IS FALLING APART.

Like always, thank you for sticking with me on this!!

We're nearing the end. (Well, the next chapter is the last, lol ;-;)

-Tae