#and and and and the grief of missing them

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Heyy same anon from the kpop demon hunters question! Gonna try and not spoil the movie for my request lol, I loved the movie and its message and Ik Jinu wanted to be free but GOD I want him back so I NEED to have him and reader having first time + emotional yearning sex after he comes back in some way plzplzplzplz (Whether reader is a huntrix member or not is up to you haha)

A/n: still fuming about what happened to him, annny who. I hope you like it!

The blood on your hands isn’t yours.

It’s slick and warm and staining your shirt as you clutch Jinu to your chest, half-dragging, half-guiding him into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be alive.

But here he is.

Breathing—barely.

“Shit,” you choke out, lowering him gently onto your couch. “Jinu—how—?”

“I missed you,” he says instead of answering. His voice is hoarse, cracked around the edges, like something burnt and broken and still clinging to the memory of being whole.

You press trembling fingers to his cheek, daring to believe what you’re seeing. His skin is pale, his side is bleeding through his shirt, but it’s him. The boy who had sacrificed himself to save you. The boy who vanished in a flash of demonic light while you screamed his name.

“You died, Jinu.”

“I came back.” He shudders, reaching for you with blood-streaked fingers. “For you.”

You break. Collapsing into his chest, you cry against his collarbone, barely noticing the way he winces in pain, arms wrapping tightly around you anyway. You feel like you’re breathing underwater—like you’re drowning in disbelief, relief, and aching joy all at once.

He’s here. He’s here.

“I thought I’d never feel you again,” you whisper into his neck.

His voice is ragged. “Then feel me.”

Your eyes meet his—soft golden, wet with unshed tears. There’s no teasing in them now. No idol’s smirk. Just raw, exposed want… and grief and yearning and need.

You kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate. Frantic. A crash of mouths and teeth and breathless gasps as you straddle his lap. His blood seeps into your clothes, but you don’t care. You cup his face, fingers trembling as you kiss him like it’ll tether him to the world again. Like you can kiss him into staying.

“Tell me this is real,” you whisper against his lips. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “I only feel real when I’m touching you.”

You tug off your shirt, stripping off the remnants of battle-stained clothing. He watches you like you’re something divine, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin as if memorizing you is the only thing keeping him alive.

“Lie back,” you breathe, guiding him down carefully, mindful of his injury. You straddle him again, skin pressed to skin, and he groans as your lips trace his throat.

His cock is already hard beneath you—hot, twitching, and aching with the same hunger you feel in every nerve ending. You reach between you, guiding him to your entrance, both of you gasping when the tip nudges your pussy.

You sink down slowly.

His hands clutch your hips, trembling. You feel every inch of him stretch you open, fill you, claim you like he was meant to be inside you all along. Like his body remembers yours.

“Oh, fuck—Jinu,” you moan, grounding yourself with your hands on his chest.

His voice is wrecked. “I dreamed of this. Every second I was gone, I dreamed of being inside you.”

You ride him slow, bodies molded together like you’re trying to erase the days, weeks, months of loss. Every roll of your hips is a promise. Every breath is a prayer. His eyes don’t leave yours, even as they flutter with each tight clench of your pussy around his cock.

You’re crying again—you don’t know when the tears started—but they fall silently down your cheeks as you move above him. Jinu reaches up, thumbing them away with infinite tenderness.

“I didn’t die for the world,” he says softly, “I died for you. And I came back because… I couldn’t stay gone. Not from you.”

Your body trembles, your climax cresting like a wave of holy fire—raw, sacred, blissful. You gasp his name as you come, pussy clenching tight around him. He cries out beneath you, hips bucking as he spills deep inside you, arms crushing you to his chest.

You lay there for a long while, tangled in each other. Breathing each other in. Hearts pounding in sync, his fingers weaving in your hair keeping you close.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his.

“I won’t,” he vows. “Even if I die again, I’ll find a way back. I’ll always find you.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clung to him as you slowly nodded your head. You believed him and like Jinu, you would find any way to bring him back.

Because he was your soulmate and you'd never leave him behind.

[gilverrwrites]

ꜰᴛ. ᴅɪᴄᴋ ɢʀᴀʏꜱᴏɴ, ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ, ᴋʏʟᴇ ʀᴀʏɴᴇʀ, ʀᴏʏ ʜᴀʀᴘᴇʀ, & ᴡᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴇꜱᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪɴꜱᴇʀᴛ: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀʟɢᴀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

ᴅɪᴄᴋ – ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʙᴀʙʏ! ᴛᴡ: ꜰᴇʀᴛɪʟɪᴛʏ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ (ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ/ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ)

After months at it like horny rabbits, a feat you didn’t think possible considering Dick’s baseline libido, it had seemed like an impossible task. You’d long since given up trying, at least until the fertility treatment appointment Bruce has dropped big bucks on, which wasn’t for a few more weeks.

It’s why you didn’t get your hopes up when your period didn’t come as expected. It’s why you didn’t reach for a pregnancy test straight away, why Dick didn’t push the subject. Neither of you wanted to deal with the sting of disappointment that the inevitably negative test would administer.

At least that’s what you’d thought the mutually agreed up status would be. When you emerge from the en-suite, limbo status pee stick in hand, Dick keeps his head down, but you see his stormy blue eyes, peeking out from under his dark locks, his yearning clear as day. It breaks your heart as you picture his face in 10 minutes' time, the same look of disappointment, of grief you’d seen too many times before, plastered on his face, only adding to your own feelings of pain and inadequacy.

But at the same time, it’s Dick who makes you feel better when you’re low, so you climb into the bed beside him and curling up in his arms. Eyes closed, focused only on the soothing fluctuation of his chest and the feel of his lips against your forehead.

“Hey, baby.” Dicks voice stirs you. You’re not sure if you’d been sleeping for a while or if you’d just started to doze but your eyes feel heavy as you look up at your partner. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but the corners of his eyes are creased in a way you recognise as his attempt to hide a smile, and you have to remind yourself not to expect anything. “Look.”

Something shifts in your peripheral, Dick is waving the test back and forth to grab your attention, but the movement makes it hard to read the test window until you reach out to grab it from him.

Two lines.

Two beautiful, beautiful lines.

“We’re…”

He finally cracks, lips twisting into a genuine, sunny smile. One you’d missed wholeheartedly. It doesn’t leave his lips as he presses it to your face, over and over, words marred as he smothers you with his affections. “We’re gonna have to give you a new nickname, cause we’re having a baby, baby!”

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ – ɪ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ. ᴛᴡ: ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ.

There isn’t even a hint of irony or humour in his face. He’s stone-cold serious. More than 200 lbs of muscle, scar tissue, and don’t-fuck-with-me- face, standing in front of you with an unopened pregnancy test.

“You can’t be serious.” He doesn’t falter at your dismissal, position and face held firm even as you roll your eyes and attempt to gently bat the box away. “I think I’d know if I was pregnant.”

“Would you?” The stern look on his face finally waivers, making way for a cocked brow and a teasing smirk. He can be so smug sometimes; Thinks he knows you better than you know yourself.

You might regret giving him an inch, but you concede, slightly. “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t know know, but I’d have a hunch.”

“Yeah? Well, I have a hunch.” He fires back, following close behind you as you attempt to walk away. Right on your heels until you collapse on the couch. “Humour me.”

“A hunch based on what?” You ask as he joins you, lifting your legs to make space for himself before letting them fall back down onto his lap.

“Well…” Milky eyes land on your breasts just long enough to make a point before they trail back down your body, stopping at your ankles, which admittedly have been giving you trouble recently. When he pressed his thumb hard into its joints and starts to massage them, you don’t complain, but you’re not willing to admit defeat just yet. “You’ve been… swelling, and you’ve been peeing a lot. Weird things make you nauseous, things you used to like.”

Of course, you’ve noticed these things too, but when he starts listing them back-to-back like this you can’t deny that his case is might just be a teensy bit compelling.

“You’re tired all the time, and I’m pretty sure you’re-”

“Okay, fine.” You yield, playfully glaring at him as you grab the box from the coffee table where he’d placed it before joining you. “I’ll take the test, but when I’m right, and I will be, you have to go to the store and buy me ice cream.”

“Random food cravings, that's also a sign.” Before you bite back he already raises his arms in surrender, a cheeky, boyish laugh rolling off his tongue under the burn of your glare until you close the bathroom door behind you.

Jason can be quite the sore loser when his stake is high enough, but he’s always been a surprisingly gracious, if quietly complacent, winner. You know this, as you sheepishly exit the bathroom 20 minutes later, positive test in hand.

You’re not quite sure what you’d expected to find upon your emergence, but Jason, grinning ear to ear, ice cream and a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting in hand is certainly a sight you could get used to.

ᴋʏʟᴇ – ᴍoᴍᴍʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ.

He’s clueless. Tired as a worn-out rag, as he drags his feet around the apartment. He’s greeted you with a cheery smile, and a long-awaited smooch, undoubtedly happy to be home and with you once again. But Lantern business is arduous, and while his heart might be all in on being home, his brain certainly isn’t switched on.

“I can do all that for you.” You volunteer, watching closely as he boils the kettle, tries to undress, and attempts to unpack what he can, but he’s having none of it.

“No, no, it’s fine. I can do it.” He reassures you, love in his eyes as he blinks slow and sleepily at you, tasks at hand almost forgotten. “I- um- you- you rest. I’m home now, so um- so you don’t have to do everything around here.”

With his attention on you for a moment, you try to avert his gaze downward to the growing bump in your belly, or your t-shirt which states; ‘MOMMY TO BE’ in big, bold, colourful font, but the kettle starts to sing before he comprehends anything, and he’s turns away from you all too soon.

“You do everything all over the universe.” You point out as you join him at the counter, retrieving two mugs for him to fill. “I don’t see why you should have to do everything around here too. Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet?” He questions slowly, eying you confused, following your hands as you smooth them down your shirt before resting your palms against your stomach. “Mommy to be.”

He reads your shirt aloud, slowly sounding out each syllable before repeating, “Mommy. Momm-eee… Wait, you’re gonna be a mommy?”

Already his drowsy eyes are several inches wider, his mouth agape, curling into a wide grin as you nod. “You’re gonna be a mommy, which means I’m gonna be a dad? Me! A daddy!?”

“Yes!” Clutching your hands tight and bringing them to his chest.

“Oh, this is the best news! This is amazing! I love you so much.” Kyle is the first to start jumping up and down, newfound energy now coursing through his body, but you follow his lead soon after, briefly. All that hopping can't be good for the baby after all.

ʀᴏʏ – ᴘɪɴᴄʜ ᴍᴇ.

Telling Roy became more of a spectacle than you’d hoped. Despite all your best efforts to play things cool, you could feel their eyes on you across the table. Roy’s, Dinah’s, Ollie's. Every glance might seem totally innocuous to any onlookers, but you could see the curiosity behind every prolonged stare and quirked lip as you declined alcohol, and coffee, and coke. Who knew there were so many boundaries on what pregnant people should and shouldn’t eat. No eggs, no poultry, no cheese, no fish.

Obviously, you couldn’t have known that Roy would have succeeded in his long-standing purpose to knock you up when you’d agreed to dinner with the soon-to-be in-laws, but man, had you known, you’d have declined.

At least then you wouldn’t be sweating like a sinner as you try to stomach the only thing on the menu that meets all your new dietary requirements. They're some of the smartest people you know, surely they can tell.

“So,” Dinah starts, and you can feel yourself unraveling. “Are you-”

“Yes! Yes, fine, I’m pregnant.” The word vomit escapes you under the mounting pressure before you even think them through, and you realise very quickly, as you process the barrage of wide, confused eyes staring at you, that your confession may have been unnecessary.

“I was going to ask if you’re enjoying your food.” Dinah clarifies, smiling as her eyes find Roy’s over the table. “But congratulations, how exciting.”

“That is great news. I think another round is in order, don’t you Di? Lemonade all round!” Ollie continues, and you nod and smile politely, but really, your energy is focused on Roy, who hasn’t moved an inch or said a word since your impromptu announcement.

His expression gives nothing away, and his eyes don’t even land on you until he feels the palm of your hand drape over the top of his. “Roy, are you okay? I thought you'd be excited.”

You thought he’d be happier. He’s been begging for this for months, but you have to strain your eyes when he finally speaks up, forest green eyes detached as he whispers. “Pinch me.”

“What?”

“Pinch me.” He repeats, and the relief floods through you as you watch his lips crack into a triumphant smile. Unadulterated joy flooding his face all at once as he grabs both your arms and pulls you closer. “This is the best thing to happen since Lian was born!”

ᴡᴀʟʟʏ – ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ. ᴛᴡ: ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ.

“Open up I gotta take a leak.” Your husband calls from the other side of the wood that separates you, stirring you from your disoriented train of thought.

As a couple, you’d been trying for a baby ever since you’d tied the knot, but now that it’s really happening, the reality of the situation has hit you like a ton of bricks. A baby. A real flesh and blood child, a fragile little being who will be reliant on you, who will look to you for guidance and for, well, everything.

“You good?” Wally shouts again, this time knocking on the door, stopping your descent into internal panic before it happens again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” You lie, shoving the cap back on the test before hiding it in your back pocket, opening the door, and greeting Wally with a smile that even you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

He smiles back at you, but his gaze lingers on your expression, those emerald irises seemingly looking right through you, but the pressure in his bladder must win out because he doesn’t follow you as you swap places, and the sound of his zipper fills your ears before the door is even closed.

You barely make it downstairs before the telltale rush of wind that signifies his presence hits you, however. He’s waiting for you on the couch by the time you reach it, bottom lip between his teeth and he looks at you with big sad eyes.

Before you can even ask him what’s wrong, he pipes up; “So, when where you gonna tell me?”

He looks as troubled as you feel, but apparently for different reasons.

“Tell you what…” You trail off as you clock it; the pink plastic stick that has been in your pocket now twirls deliberately between Wally’s anxiously animated fingers. “Of course I was, I just needed a little time to process first.”

When Wally talks-faster-than-he-runs West has nothing to say, you know there’s something wrong. There is rarely silence between you, and while you’ve never felt the need to justify anything to the man you love, you do feel an itch to make some noise, so you keep talking. “It’s just, I know I should be happy, and I am! I’m just also, scared. You know?”

In an instant, the concern etched into his features melts, replaced by the sunshine you’d come to love; his freckles shifting under the stretch of a smile. Your own tense muscles relaxing at the sound of his laugh. “Of course you’re scared, I'm scared too” Having kids is terrifying!”

“Yeah?” You ask quietly, feeling silly for getting so in your head about the situation.

“Yeah!” Wally replies. You watch as he starts to stand before disappearing from view, and reappearing right behind you, arms wrapped tight around your torso, bringing you in for a hug. His lips are soft against the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. “But we’re gonna be scared together, right, Momma?”

[ashortcuttomushrooms]

[Image Description: The first image is a screenshot of a tiktok. It shows a bottle of soda inside a fridge, captioned: "Grief shows in the weirdest ways. This was my dads favorite soda. It has been sitting in the fridge untouched for 4 years and will likely stay there forever". The rest of the screenshots show comments left on the video. They say:

I still pay my dads phone bill cus I don't want anyone else to have his number

I have my dad's wallet where he has $37 and 3 years later, no matter how broke I am, I have not touched that money.

My grandpa asked for a KitKat the day before he passed, I got it for him but he never got to eat it. It's been in my fridge ever since.

When my daughter died, she had a carton of ice cream in the freezer. I would open it to look at the spoon tracks raked across the surface. It was comforting... like she was still there.

Mt brother was murdered in 2012. I still have a pair of his clothes in case it was all a mistake and he needs something to wear when he finds his way back to us.

My husbands phone line is still active after 2 years. His body wash, toothbrush, shampoo are all still in the same place he left them. Makes me feel like he will be back to use them again.

Before my mom passed she put a chocolate Christmas's tree in the fridge and said "no one eat this please it's mine!". When we moved it moved with us and will be in my fridge forever.

I still buy my dad something every year for Fathers Day. It's been fifty years. (Rose emoji)

I still have a body powder that he gave me when I was 6. I applied a little bit in my wedding day at 19.

I have the last meal my little sister cooked in the freezer. I miss her so much

The whiteboard in our house that my dad would write things on still has his handwriting on it from the last thing he wrote (three two hearts emojis) he's been gone almost 10 years, I miss him (smiling face with halo emoji)

My dad left me his car in 2019 when he passed. The trunk is full of beach towels and coats and hats. He was always prepared for any weather. Now I am too.

My dad passed away 22 years ago and I still have a jar of the last batch of jam he ever made in my fridge.

We emptied out the container of my moms coffee creamer and filled it with water and it's been in the fridge for nine years

my sister's still in my favorite contacts. she's been gone since 2016 & i've gotten at least 4 new phones...

End Image Description]

I saw this post on tiktok and as soon as I opened the comments I started sobbing

[neilissevered]

Hey! I’ll eat anything up with baku + hurt/comfort :) It can be inspired by one of the episodes where juntae gets beat up by the union. Don’t mind anything as long as it’s angst + fluff at the end!

જ⁀➴ COLLATERAL

He fought like hell to get you back. Now, in the quiet after the storm, he holds your hand and calls it home. Full fic, whc2 timeline, mutual pining and yearning, hurt and comfort Park Hu-min (Baku) x gn! reader wc: 6k+ tw: depictions of violence and torture, reader gets kidnapped by the Union masterlist

You couldn’t forget that day, not even if you tried. It was scorched into your memory like a brand. Everything felt like it was on the verge of collapse—like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting to explode.

Every step you and your friends took felt watched, weighed, and judged. The town that once wrapped around you like a warm blanket now pressed in like iron bars. Even the familiar hallways of your school, once loud with laughter and life, had turned cold, hollow—like the echo of something that had already died.

The Union was relentless. You, Hu-min Go-tak, Jun-tae, and Si-eun knew that. The gang wasn’t going to stop until Eunjang High School became a part of it. And they didn’t care how violent it would get.

It was that day that all of you realized that not even the police—or any adults could help.

“Shit, what the hell happened to you three?!” you cried out, barely able to breathe.

Your chest heaved like it was collapsing under the weight of fear. You had sprinted across town the second you heard the Union had taken Jun-tae. Your legs had moved on instinct, faster than thought, fueled by panic. Because Jun-tae… he wasn’t a fighter. Not really. But he was loyal. The kind of loyal that doesn’t run even when he should. The kind that stays, 

even if it means getting torn apart.

But you only heard about Jun-tae.

You’re in the hospital now, still shaking, your palms still clammy. You’re staring at your friends, trying to make sense of it all.

“Hu-min, what the hell happe–” The you see it.

The words die in your throat.

You follow their gazes and feel your stomach twist, as if gravity itself turned on you.

There he is.

Si-eun, lying unconscious on a hospital bed, motionless. His skin is pale, lips are cracked. And next to him, his mother. Her hands tremble as she clutches his, tears carving silent paths down her cheeks. Her sobs aren’t loud. They’re quiet, broken things, as if even her grief is afraid to speak in a world this cruel.

The sight hits you like a punch to the gut. You feel your knees weaken. Rage, guilt, and fear all surge at once. You want to undo everything.

But all you and the other three boys can do is stare.

And wonder if anything will ever feel safe again.

“----!!!!” 

Your name blasts into your ear like someone just hit you with a megaphone.

You flinch, snapping back to reality like you’d just surfaced from underwater. The cold metal table. The cafeteria noise. The cheap plastic tray in front of you. You're back. No hospital. No unconscious Si-eun because that was all a week ago. You and your friends were okay, but you couldn’t help but still reel from the past events.

“Hey, dumbass,” Hu-min says, way too close to your ear. “You deaf or something? You just missed the best part of my story!”

You jerk your head away with a grimace, clutching your ear. “What the hell, Hu-min?! You trying to shatter my eardrum?!” You hissed, face slightly red from the embarrassment, because once again, your table is becoming a public attraction in the cafeteria because of how loud Hu-min is.

“You were zoned out for five whole minutes,” Jun-tae chimes in, mouth half-full. “Thought maybe you had a stroke.”

“Or died sitting up,” Go-tak adds while snickering, not even looking up from his food. “I was just about to take a picture of your face. Our new group chat photo.” 

You shoot them a glare. “Thanks for the concern. Reallyyy feeling the love right now.”

Hu-min rolls his eyes. “We were concerned. Until you just kept staring at your rice like it insulted your whole family.” he then ruffled your hair, giving back your chopsticks that you dropped, and motioned to your food as if urging you to continue eating.

Si-eun gives the smallest snort from across the table. You glance at him. He's eating slowly, quiet as ever, but there's a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“What? You too, Si-eun??” you groaned.

You roll your eyes, shaking off the last of the memory’s grip. “Great friends I have. Real supportive.”

“You’re welcome!” Hu-min chuckles, flicking a grain of rice at your tray. “Maybe don’t zone out like you’re about to transcend to another plane of existence.”

You shoot him a glare. “Maybe don’t scream directly into my brain next time??”

He smirks, and there’s something a little smug in it. “Hey, where’s the fun in that? You can still hear, right?” he reached out, snapping his fingers next to your ear as if to prove a point, then suddenly patted your cheek. You swatted his hand away, unimpressed but flustered nonetheless. You hate that your face warms a little. 

You look away quickly and shove some food into your mouth—something bland and mushy. Comfort in mediocrity, you guess.

Jun-tae then nudges you with his elbow. “Jokes aside, you good, though? You looked… far away.”

You pause. Then nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Hu-min casts a sidelong glance your way, his grin wavering for just a moment. He quickly shifts the conversation to another story, successfully bringing back the earlier joyful atmosphere of your group.

However, beneath the table, his knee gently nudges yours, a silent message that he isn't convinced by your excuse, not even for a heartbeat. Yet, despite his doubts, he chooses to let it slide. For now.

“Alright, move aside and I’ll show everyone the true, Hanamichi Sakuragi!” 

Hu-min whooped, beating his chest a few times as he proudly held the basketball in one hand while parading around the court like he was ready to win the national championship 

Across from him stood Go-tak, Jun-tae, and Si-eun—each one wearing the same deadpan expression that screamed not impressed.

It was a spontaneous after-school plan. The five of you had decided to kill time on the court before heading home. The sun was dipping low, casting the sky in swirls of burnt orange and violet. Students slowly trickled out through the gates on their way to cram school—Si-eun almost included, until Hu-min cornered him and dragged him into the game.

You’d opted out of playing today. Something about your mood just wouldn’t let up. Your mind was still stuck on a memory you couldn’t quite shake. Nothing traumatic, nothing new—just something lingering, like smoke after a fire. Everyone was fine now. Or at least, they seemed to be.

But Hu-min…he has been different lately.

You noticed how he’d glance around corners before letting his friends pass. How he’d always walk a step ahead, shoulders tense, scanning. He acted like no one noticed—but you did and you were sure the others did too. He was watching the world a little too closely now. And everyone else? They let him.

No one’s complaining, though. You all appreciated the company, and there’s not a single moment when it turns dull as long as Hu-min is there.

So instead of playing, you sat back and let your eyes wander. Go-tak, Jun-tae, and Si-eun had decided to team up in a 3v1—some dumb challenge just to “prove” Hu-min really was the best at basketball (his idea, obviously).

And he wasn’t even half bad at it, which only fed the fire.

There was something about Hu-min’s energy—loud, electric, overwhelming. But there was warmth there, too. The kind that reached deeper than you expected. He made you feel safe without trying to. Like someone who could carry the weight of the world if it meant his friends didn’t have to.

But sometimes, you wish he didn’t feel like he had to.

Still, watching him now—sweat on his brow, laughter in his throat, arms wide like he was daring the world to challenge him—you felt it again. That warmth.

The kind you never knew you needed until he was already in your life.

And you weren’t ready to let it go.

Hu-min spun the basketball in his hand with a cocky grin, chest puffed out like a cartoon character about to deliver his winning line.

“Alright! If I make this last shot—” he pointed dramatically toward the hoop, then to you with a wink—“I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow!”  

You blinked, a wave of surprise washing over you. “Me?” Your thoughts were so suddenly interrupted that it took a second (or maybe two) to process what Hu-min had just flung into the air like his basketball. When it finally hit you, your cheeks flared. A date?  

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The word date echoed again in your mind, not in his teasing voice but softer, like a whisper folded between your uncertain thoughts. You’d never really stopped to consider the idea. Between dodging the Union, healing bruised knuckles, and watching over the others, there just wasn’t time. Romance always felt like a luxury too fragile for the kind of life you unfortunately led.

But now...

Your heart did this strange flutter, like it had just realized it was in a body that could feel. And not just feel—but want. Want soft glances across a rooftop, laughter shared in quiet corners of the gym, the press of a hand that stayed a moment longer than it needed to. You and Hu-min have been friends for a long time. You weren’t going to deny that there was something more in your friendship. Something that has maybe been long overdue. 

He leaned in, his smirk widening like a crescent moon. “Yeah, you. What? Afraid to be seen with someone as stunning as me in public?”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the laughter bubbling up inside. “Stunning? You mean ‘delusional’?”  

“Touché,” he chuckled, casually spinning the ball on his finger, “but let’s be real, it’s hard not to notice someone who steals the spotlight.”  

You exchanged playful glances, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. 

Go-tak immediately gagged in the background from the suddenly sappy atmosphere. Jun-tae booed. Si-eun didn’t even look up while he tried to catch his breath.

“You miss this, and you’re buying us dinner,” Si-eun muttered.

Unbothered, Hu-min jogged to the three-point line, hyped himself up under his breath—“Alright, let’s go, this is my moment”—and shot.

It bounced off the rim.

Hard.

There was a beat of silence while everyone watched the ball roll off the court in the saddest way possible. Go-tak and Jun-tae exploded with laughter. It’s like the best comedy they have ever seen.

Jun-tae pointed. “This is why you’re single!”

Go-tak doubled over. “True love denied by poor aim! Holy shit I should’ve recorded that moment!”

Even Si-eun cracked the faintest smirk while he watched the other two mock Hu-min, trying to mimic his very sad attempt at shooting the ball by jumping around.

After a few back-and-forth curse words and hard teasing from the other three, Hu-min gave up the banter and tossed them the ball 

“Whatever! That was the wind pushing the ball out of the hoop!”

 He walked off the court and went to where you were seated on the steps, trying not to look amused.

He dropped down next to you, wiping sweat from his brow, still breathing heavily. “They’re so annoying,” he muttered. “Anyway, pretend that went in. The offer still stands.” He winked.

You let out a small laugh, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The whole thing did take your mind off the Union for a bit, but there’s still a gnawing feeling inside of you.

Hu-min noticed. Of course he did.

He leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, his voice lower now. He gently nudged your arm. “You’ve been quiet today. More than usual.”

You glanced at him, then away. “It’s nothing. Just really tired today.”

“Hey, don't give me that.”

A beat passed before you spoke again. You let out a sigh, deciding to just come clean. “It’s just… after what happened to Jun-tae, I keep thinking—what if it happens again? What if we’re not ready next time? Hell–I don’t think you guys were ready at that time..”

Hu-min was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke, voice soft but steady.

“It won’t. Because I’m here.”

You looked at him again. This time, he was serious. No teasing. No grin. Just Hu-min—warm, real, and right beside you. He smiled reassuringly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you, not even to those idiots over there,” he said. “Not now. Not ever again.”

The fading light caught in his eyes, the orange glow softening his usually loud presence. 

He didn’t need you to thank him. He didn’t need anything in return.

Just everyone’s safety, and yours especially.

That was enough for him.

“Hey! Everyone, go straight home, alright?” Hu-min called out as the group started packing up. The sun was dipping below the rooftops, casting long shadows on the pavement. It was getting late, and they all had class the next day.

“What?! Hey, what about our dinner treat?” Go-tak whined, slinging his bag over his shoulder with exaggerated disappointment.

“Hm? Never heard of it,” he replied coolly, brushing off the comment with a shrug.

Go-tak squinted at him, unimpressed. “Whatever, man. I hope you trip on your way home.”

That earned a round of laughter from the group, loud and lighthearted. Plans for the weekend were already being tossed around, something about crashing at Si-eun’s apartment, stealing his snacks, and maybe raiding his room while they were at it.

Goodbyes came in waves—sloppy hugs, playful jabs, promises of seeing each other tomorrow. One by one, Jun-tae, Go-tak, and Si-eun disappeared into the night, leaving behind the fading echoes of their chatter.

And then it was just the two of you.

You hadn’t even realized until now that Hu-min was still holding your hand. He hadn’t let go the entire time.

The street felt quieter, the space between you closer.

You looked down at your intertwined fingers, rough calluses, and warmth pressed against your skin. It wasn’t like you to be flustered, but something about his grip—firm but gentle—made your pulse skip a beat.

You glanced down at your hand, still tangled in Hu-min’s. “You know… You don’t have to keep holding it.”

He looked at you, still grinning widely. “I know,” then didn’t let go.

You raised an eyebrow. A laugh bubbling at your chest, “So?”

“So what? My hands comfortable.”

You gave him a look. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah. Warm. Steady. I dunno. Just don’t make it weird.” By that, he already started walking with you, leading you to your own home while he swung your intertwined hands in the air.

“You’re the one making it weird.”

“I’m not making it weird! I’m making it—casual.”

You snorted. “Casual handholding?”

“Yes. Extremely casual. Like bros.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Wait—no, not like bros—don’t quote that—”

You burst out laughing, and Hu-min looked like he regretted everything immediately. But he can't help but smile at the way you look. How lighter you seem to be after he talked to you earlier.

He groaned. “Ugh, I was doing fine until I missed that shot..”

“You mean your terrible attempt at asking me out?”

“It wasn’t terrible! It was slightly… underwhelming. That’s different.”

You grinned. “Do you know what underwhelming means?”

Suddenly, Hu-min let go of your hand and, without warning, brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks. Before you could react, he tugged at them gently, stretching your face with the kind of shameless mischief only he could pull off.

“Look at you,” he teased with a grin, “still trying to act cool! Go-tak taught you how to tease me, didn’t he?”

You squeaked out a protest, swatting at his wrists as you tried to escape his grip. But your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, tangled with his own. The sound filled the quiet street. Loud, chaotic, unfiltered—just like him.

When the laughter finally ebbed, both of you were left catching your breath. His hands were still on your face, but the playfulness had faded into something gentler. His thumbs moved softly now, brushing lightly over your skin as though he was trying to smooth away the laughter—but really, he just didn’t want to let go.

Then, without a word, he swiped his thumb at the corner of your mouth. Slowly, carefully. His gaze lingered, drinking you in like this was a moment he wanted to memorize. His chest rose and fell with a quiet breath, a softness settling in his eyes that you rarely got to see.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, you leaned in—just barely, but enough for him to feel it. Your foreheads touched, the unusually close contact warming the space between you.

“I should go home soon, Hu-min”

He immediately pouted, pulling back just a little, arms falling to his sides. Your place was only a few minutes away—barely a walk—but that didn’t stop the small crease of disappointment forming between his brows.

“You sure you don’t need a hero to walk you home? I’m free of charge, y’know”

You laughed, shaking your head as you began walking away from him while waving goodbye.

“Relax, I can handle a sidewalk!” 

“You’ll miss me!” He shouted, waving his hands at you as you got farther and farther away

You rolled your eyes, shouting back, “I’ll see you tomorrow Hu-min!”

“Yeah, yeah—text me when you get home!”

You turned the corner, heart light, steps even lighter. The echo of your laughter still lingered in the air, like the night itself had softened just for you both.

The sidewalk was quiet, save for the rhythmic scuff of your shoes against the pavement. You were maybe three minutes from home, still replaying the evening in your head—his laughter, his touch, the way he looked at you like he was still holding back something bigger than words.

Maybe it’s the fact that Hu-min had made everything light and easy. He made you feel safe with his presence.

You didn’t notice the footsteps behind you.

Didn’t hear them speeding up.

Didn’t feel the tension creeping up your spine until—

CRACK.

A sharp, white-hot pain exploded across the side of your head. The world spun, and your knees buckled.

Your breath caught mid-gasp as your vision blurred—then dimmed.

You collapsed to the pavement with a dull thud.

The Union now knows where to hit Hu-min where it hurts.

“Bro,” Go-tak said, mouth half-full of kimbap, “you’ve been glued to them like a damn sticker.”

Hu-min didn’t even look up while chewing his food. “What’re you talking about?”

Jun-tae leaned back on his elbows, grinning. “Baku..you waited outside the bathroom for them. For, like, five minutes. That’s practically dating.”

Hu-min scoffed, tossing a rice ball at Jun-tae’s head, not caring when the sticky grains got everywhere. “I was standing there. Coincidence.”

“Sure,” Si-eun deadpanned, not even bothering to look up. “So you do that every lunch break?”

“Hey. I missed when you didn’t talk a lot.” his ears were already turning red. He shoved more food into his mouth just to avoid answering while the Go-tak and Jun-tae teased him.

“You’re obvious,” Go-tak said, gleefully piling on. “Like, puppy-eyed obvious. It’s kind of painful.”

“I don’t do puppy eyes!” Hu-min snapped.

“Yeah? Then what was that look when they gave you their leftover fries yesterday?” Jun-tae teased. “You looked like you got proposed to.”

Hu-min whipped around to glare at him, dramatically offended. “I was hungry! Fries are sacred!”

The group burst out laughing, and Hu-min shoved his tray toward the center in mock rage.

“Whatever, man,” he grumbled. “Can’t I just make sure they don’t trip over air or get kidnapped or something?”

Go-tak leaned in, smug. “So you admit it.”

Hu-min rolled his eyes. “Admit what?”

“That you’re down bad.”

“I’ll kick you off this roof.”

But even as he threatened violence while the group continued to mock him, Hu-min’s eyes wandered—just for a moment—toward the hallway beyond the stairwell door. You were leaning against a locker, laughing at something your friend said, completely unaware of the way he looked at you.

He didn’t even realize the corners of his mouth had twitched into a smile.

Your mind surfaced slowly, like dragging yourself out of deep water.

At first, there was only sound. Distant. Muffled. A low hum. Dripping, maybe. Footsteps? It was hard to tell. Everything blurred into one long, throbbing buzz that pulsed behind your eyes.

Then—pain.

A vivid pressure bloomed sharply at the side of your head, a sinister ache that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. A small whimper escaped your lips, a sound of desperation as the awareness intensified the pain, making it feel unbearable. You instinctively tried to reach for your throbbing temple, but your arms remained unresponsive, trapped and helpless.

That’s when you noticed the cold biting into your wrists. Rough rope. Metal against your spine. You were sitting, but slumped awkwardly. Tied to something.

A chair?

You cracked your eyes open. It was dark, your vision swimming. Everything doubled, then tripled, before settling into a shaky blur.

You blinked hard, your vision unfocused. Finally, you could see your lap, the once pristine school uniform, now clearly streaked with dirt and grime. Your eyes shifted to your legs, bound tightly to the chair, rendering you utterly immobile. Your body felt heavy and fatigued, while the ropes dug painfully into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, a cruel reminder of your helplessness.

The side of your face throbbed with every heartbeat. Your lip stung, metallic and swollen. There was a coppery taste in your mouth. And god—it was cold. You were covered in sweat and probably your own dried blood from the head injury. 

Voices, low and distorted, floated somewhere nearby. Talking. Laughing? Arguing?

You couldn’t tell.

Your breathing picked up, chest rising faster now as reality snapped into place like shards of glass reforming, and finally, you can remember a few things. Hu-min. The sidewalk. The pipe. The voice saying, “They’re down.”

You weren’t home.

You weren’t safe.

And Hu-min wasn’t with you.

Panic stirred in your chest, but your limbs felt heavy. Your head dropped forward again, your body sluggish and uncooperative, still recovering from the hit. Still too slow. You could only cry out in pain. From the fear and helplessness 

But you were awake. And you were alone.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Suddenly, their laughter rang in your ears like a fork scraping against a plate. You winced in pain as you did your best to look up at the faces of the people who took you. You only recognized one. He was part of the union, you think. 

You remembered seeing him once, behind Si-eun during a fight. He wasn’t a frontliner…more like someone who watched from the shadows. Quiet. Calculating.

Now, he was smiling at you like you were a puzzle he already knew how to solve.

“There it is,” he said with an amused sigh. “Took you long enough. You’re tougher than you look.”

You didn’t respond. Your tongue felt too heavy. And besides, what was there to say?

He walked closer, crouching just in front of you. “You probably don’t remember me. But I know you. Or at least, I know what you are to him.”

That made your stomach twist and your heart drop

Hu-min. 

You could still feel the warmth of his hand in yours, the echo of his laugh, the way he called after you—

“You’ll miss me!”

God. You wished you could hear his voice now.

“He’s loud, your little boyfriend,” the Union guy went on. “Always charging in, throwing punches. Never shuts up.” Everyone laughed behind him, some even mimicking Hu-min’s actions. They looked prideful, as if they had already won.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“But when he finds out we have you?”

“He’ll be real quiet then.”

You met his gaze, fury flaring despite the pain. Once he got close enough, You spat without hesitation.

It landed square on his cheek—a messy mix of blood and spit that made him recoil instantly.

“Fuck! You little—” He cursed, stumbling back as he wiped his face in disgust. He glared at you, the others looking in disbelief.

“Alright,” he muttered. “You want to be brave? You need a little reminder, then”

He motioned at the other boys lazily. And before you could react—

A fist drove into your gut, hard.

Air exploded from your lungs. The room spun. You couldn’t even scream. They all laughed as your chair tipped over from the sheer force. You came crashing down onto the floor, your body was hit hard, the edge of the metal frame biting into your side. Pain bloomed in waves, sharp and pulsing, as the men’s laughter echoed above you.

“Hey! Get this on video,” one of them barked, pulling out a phone with a grin. “Let’s send it to Baku.”

He crouched beside you, tapping the screen to start recording as you struggled to lift your head. Before you even did, though, a foot slammed into your rib. Four other guys started kicking you.

“Let him watch this on loop. He’ll come crawling on his knees.”

A cruel grin spread across his face.

“Maybe then he’ll finally get the message—Eunjang loses.”

Bakutastic🏀: “Heyyyyyy u home yet?” Bakutastic🏀: “Heyyy” Bakutastic🏀: “Helllooooooo” Bakutastic🏀: “nsajndweaksml” Bakutastic🏀: “Is ur phone dead?” Bakutastic🏀: “Message me asap or im eating all ur food tmrw.🙄🙄”

Hu-min scratched at the back of his neck, frowning. His phone screen lit his face in the dark room, your chat still open. You were only five minutes away when you left. Maybe your phone died. Maybe you knocked out the second you got home.

Still… something didn’t sit right.

Was he being clingy? Probably. Did he care? Not even a little. He just wanted to know you were safe. That’s it.

Another minute ticked by. Then another.

Ten minutes now.

He hadn’t moved—just sat there, staring at your contact name like the screen might light up if he waited long enough. His fingers hovered over his keyboard again, but he didn’t know what else to say without sounding panicked.

With a frustrated exhale, he sat up in bed, grabbing his hoodie. Screw it. He’d swing by. Just check. He wasn’t sleeping until he—

Buzz.

His phone lit up in his hand. Unknown number. No message. Just a video file.

“The hell?” he muttered, already swiping it open.

It only took two seconds. Two seconds before his heart plummeted.

The screen showed you. Tied to a chair, slumped and on the ground, Blood staining your mouth, bruises blooming across your face. The camera was shaky, laughter in the background.

Then—a kick. Straight to your stomach. You coughed hard. Violent. Your whole body jolted.

Hu-min’s breath caught. His hands started shaking.

Another blow. You flinched. He did too.

He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

He was already on his feet, grabbing his jacket, his phone, keys—whatever. His body moved on instinct, pure adrenaline roaring through him.

He knew those faces and exactly where they took you.

The Union thought they were clever. Thought they could break him by using you.

His sneakers pounded against the pavement as he took off down the same street you walked earlier. He didn’t feel the wind. Didn’t hear the cars. All he could hear was your voice echoing in his head—

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hu-min!”

He didn’t care what he had to do.

He was going to find you.

And God help anyone who tried to stop him.

“Ahh.. The hell is taking him so long?”

Then suddenly—a loud slam of a door. 

Hu-min didn’t give them a chance to speak or even think. 

He charged.

The first man barely raised a hand before Hu-min’s fist connected with his jaw. A sickening crack split the air as the man crumpled to the ground. Another lunged from behind, but Hu-min twisted, catching his ribs with a brutal elbow that sent him gasping and tumbling to a table.

There was shouting now. The sound of boots thundering.

Hu-min didn’t stop.

Didn’t think.

He ducked under a crowbar swing, landed a kick that sent one into a pile of crates. Blood. Screaming. The taste of copper in the air. Three left.

His knuckles were raw, breathing ragged. But none of it mattered.

Because in the corner of the warehouse—

He saw you.

On the floor, still tied to the chair, face bruised and barely conscious. His chest squeezed so tight it hurt. He swore the world narrowed to just you. But he didn’t run to you…not yet. He couldn’t. Not until the last two were down.

One came at him with a pipe. Hu-min took a hit to the shoulder, but it barely registered. He caught the man by the collar and slammed him into the wall with a cry.

Then, finally, it was just silence.

He dropped to his knees beside you.

He breathed your name like a quiet prayer, voice cracking at the edges as he gently cupped your face. “Hey—hey, I’m here, I got you.”

Your head tilted weakly toward him, a small movement that took all your remaining strength. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, a harsh reminder of your current state. But then your eyes fluttered open, and as they focused on him, you attempted a smile, however shaky. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you sooner," you murmured, the words emerging scratchy and raw, a feeble attempt to inject humor into the tension of the moment.

Hu-min, however, could only let out a heavy sigh, a mix of disbelief and concern etched on his face as he knelt beside you, beginning the careful task of untying your binds, his hands steady despite the gravity of the situation. 

“Let’s get you to the hospital, okay?” He gently helped you up into a sitting position before carefully scooping you up in his arms. The ache in his body was also starting to set in, but he pushed through. Neither of you was out of the dark yet. Not until he got you to safety.

You knew it was best not to talk about what happened to the Union guys. You’ve already seen Hu-min enraged before, as long as it was a loved one he had to protect, so the little time he took to beat up everyone wasn’t surprising. You just hope he wouldn’t be stubborn about getting himself checked out to the hospital as well.

The world smelled like antiseptic and plastic curtains.

The beeping of a monitor pulsed steadily somewhere above your head, each sound tugging you further into wakefulness. Your body ached—your ribs, your face, even your eyes—but the warmth of the blanket and the rhythmic beeping grounded you. Slowly, you regained your strength as you recalled the events from earlier. The union guys…Hu-min…and lots of blood that definitely wasn’t just yours.

But you were safe now.

And alive. 

The door to your hospital room slammed open with a shout of your name.

“Holy crap, you’re alive!”

“Don’t sit up too fast! Wait—is that pudding? Can I have it?”

You blinked groggily as Jun-tae, Go-tak, and Si-eun spilled into the room like a whirlwind of mismatched chaos. Jun-tae was juggling a small mountain of snacks, Go-tak had flowers he definitely stole from the nurse’s station, and Si-eun... was holding a bag of gauze and band-aids like that was going to help.

“What the hell happened?” Go-tak said, mouth half-full of chocolate. “Baku just disappeared, and next thing we know, he’s dragging you into the ER like an action movie!”

“You look like you got hit by a truck,” Jun-tae added helpfully, squinting at your face. “No offense. Still cute, though.”

You managed a weak laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. “None taken.”

Si-eun placed the bandage bag gently on the bedside table, as if that made up for everything. “You scared us.” There wasn’t much emotion behind his voice but his eyes told everything that he wanted you to know.

A soft knock came from the doorway.

You didn’t even need to look. You felt him before you saw him.

Hu-min stepped in quietly, hands shoved in his pockets, still wearing the same hoodie from earlier—creased, smudged with dirt, and faintly stained with blood at the sleeves. His eyes were on you. Only you.

Jun-tae caught the vibe immediately.

“Right,” he said, standing. “We’re gonna… leave you two alone now. Get well soon okay?”

Go-tak opened his mouth to protest, already halfway through your pudding, but Si-eun dragged him out by the collar.

The door shut with a soft click.

Silence.

Hu-min shuffled closer to your bed, awkward and quiet now that the others were gone. His hands fidgeted at his sides. “You good?” he asked, voice low. Rougher than usual.

You gave him the tiniest smile. “Been better.”

He exhaled—like he’d been holding that breath since the moment he brought you in. His eyes scanned your face, your arms, and the gauze along your temple. Even just looking at you seemed to hurt him more than his wounds.

“I should’ve walked you home,” he muttered. “I knew something felt off. I shouldn’t have let you—”

“Hu-min,” you interrupted softly, “I’m okay.”

He looked at you then. Really..looked. And whatever storm he was holding back cracked just slightly.

“You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t.”

He was quiet again. 

Then, gently, he sat down beside your bed. His hand hovered near yours on the blanket for a moment before finally resting over it, warm and firm. No amount of words can describe the fear he felt when he saw your bloodied and half-unconscious. It was terrifying and his heart was torn in pieces at the sight of it all. 

“I thought I lost you,” he said quietly, not meeting your eyes.

You squeezed his hand as best you could.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

He exhaled through his nose, like he didn’t know what to do with that kind of relief. His grip loosened, not to let go, but to soften. Gentler now.

You expected him to joke, maybe crack something stupid like he always did. But instead…

He leaned forward a little, resting his forearm carefully on the side of the bed. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d say if I got here too late,” he said, voice quiet and uneven. “And it scared the hell out of me how much I hated that thought.”

Your breath caught.

“I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it was that time you laughed so hard you snorted in front of the cafeteria, or when you always knew what snack I wanted before I asked.”

He glanced away for a second, then looked back at you. His jaw clenched like he was bracing for impact.

“…But I like you.”

The words weren’t smooth. They weren’t rehearsed. They were raw, honest, and heavier than he expected them to be.

You blinked. “Hu-min…”

“I know I’m a mess. Loud. Reckless. Not really the type you’d expect anyone to be into.” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, cheeks starting to color. “But I’ve liked you for a while now. And I didn’t say anything because it was easier to pretend I didn’t.”

He looked up again.

“But I don’t wanna pretend anymore.”

Silence.

Then, your fingers curled around his. Despite the pain, despite the bruises, your smile was soft and warm, and so you it made his heart trip over itself.

“…You think I don’t like you back?” you murmured.

His mouth opened slightly. “Wait, you do?”

You rolled your eyes, the smallest laugh escaping your lips. “You’re so dense. I mean–I never said no to you asking me out earlier…”

“Oh..right..that”

“Hu-min..did you forge—” 

“Wh–No?!”

He hesitated, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson as he struggled to find the right words, eyes flickering with uncertainty and a hint of longing. You watched him with a gentle, amused smile, noting the way he fumbled for excuses, each more clumsy than the last. 

Softly, you leaned in closer, your presence intimate and warm, and pressed a tender, almost feather-light kiss to his cheek. The simple gesture silenced him, leaving him momentarily speechless, his cheeks still tinged with blush. A playful, knowing grin spread across your lips as you looked at him, creating a moment full of shy affection and unspoken desire.

You pulled away just a few inches, enough to see the expression frozen on his face—eyes wide, mouth slightly parted, as if his entire personality had glitched from that single kiss.

His brain short-circuited.

You grinned. “You okay there, hero?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then suddenly, he moved.

“Hey!—what was that?!” he burst, voice cracking halfway through, flailing a bit as if you’d just committed some heinous act of war while he held the cheek you just kissed. “You can’t just—just—ambush me like that!”

You tilted your head innocently. “What, didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that!” he blurted, ears turning bright red as he tried to laugh the embarrassment off.

You just laughed at him, and that was what did it. Something in him snapped—not in anger, but in reckless determination.

“Oh, that’s it,” he muttered, face still crimson, but eyes locked on you now with wild resolve. “You wanna play that game? Fine.”

Before you could react, he leaned in fast, closing the already small distance between you.

He kissed your forehead. Quick. Warm.

Then your nose.

Then your other cheek.

Then your temple.

Each press was messy and rushed and completely unsmooth, but so full of affection that it made your heart stutter.

“Payback,” he said, in between each kiss.

You were too stunned to speak, caught between laughter and something far deeper as he hovered close, hands braced carefully on the sides of the bed as each kiss was more ticklish than the last.

“Don’t think you can just surprise me and get away with it,” he mumbled against your skin. “I’m Baku! I don’t lose.”

You only nodded softly, raising both of your hands in front of you as a gentle gesture of surrender. Hu-min then pulled away, slightly panting from the burst of laughter that escaped him, his eyes sparkling with affection. He gazed down at you, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. Carefully, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your face, and tenderly tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

His voice was low and warm now as he whispered, “...You’re mine now. You understand that, don’t you?”

And from the way he said it—not possessive, not demanding, just utterly devoted—you knew it wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise, and you didn’t need to answer with words.

The way your fingers laced with his said more than enough.

He stayed there with you, his forehead resting softly against yours, both of you breathing in sync. The hospital room was silent save for the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and the hum of the air conditioning, but it somehow felt peaceful now, like the world outside could wait.

There was no more fear, no more fighting. Just this—shared warmth in a sterile room, and a future quietly beginning between stolen kisses and promises unspoken.

His thumb traced light circles against the back of your hand, as if grounding himself in the fact that you were still here. With him.

And you were.

As your eyes slowly slipped shut, a tired but contented smile on your lips, Hu-min stayed right where he was—watching over you, steady and soft in a way only you ever got to see.

The beeping of the monitor faded into the background.

And the rest of the world faded with it.

an: 6k words again.. This is why I take ages to release a full fic. I hope everyone liked this!! Not too sure if I got Baku's character to a T. Comments and feedback are appreciated! <33 This was such a pain to edit in Tumblr both my laptop and phone was lagging so bad I think I need to make shorter fics now..

[kxsagi]

Bllk with a reader who is always at their home and the moment she isn't they panic/feel lonely lowkey me

“𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧”

a/n: just watched flipped and i need a yearnful man

ft. isagi yoichi, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

he walks into the apartment whistling, all happy and boyfriendly, expecting you to be on the couch wrapped in a blanket like a human burrito watching your 20th true crime doc. 

but the moment he opens the door and it’s silent… he freezes mid-step like he just triggered a tripwire. 

“love? you taking a nap?” 

no answer. his eyes dart around like a detective. he starts checking rooms, corners, under the bed? 

calls you immediately. your phone rings from the kitchen counter. 

“oh my gosh she left her phone. she’s dead. she’s in a ditch.” 

doesn’t even sit down. just holds your throw pillow to his chest, stares blankly at the ceiling and whispers, “this is what grief feels like.” 

when you walk back in, he’s like, “i thought you got kidnapped and forgot your phone during the struggle. i already made a missing poster.” 

you were gone for an hour to buy dish soap. 

mikage reo

reo swears he’s the most chill, secure man alive… until he opens the door and you’re nowhere to be seen. 

immediately texts you: where are you did i do something be honest. you hate me now right i’ll buy you a new apartment 

facetimes you and just stares at the screen without blinking. full deadpan. no words. just sorrow. 

“you weren’t here to greet me at the door like a happy little wife. how am i supposed to go on?” 

lies dramatically on the couch like he’s in a 1920s soap opera. holds a photo of you to his chest. 

considers texting your mom just to feel closer to you. 

the moment you walk back in with iced coffee: “oh so you’re alive. and caffeinated. but not emotionally invested in my suffering? okay.” 

nagi seishiro

the moment he realizes you’re not home, he literally just… stops functioning. 

like, deadass stands in the living room for three minutes straight. motionless. 

throws himself on the bed dramatically. 

calls you and groans into the mic when you pick up. 

“this sucks. i was gonna lay on you like a body pillow.” 

ends up opening the fridge 14 times out of boredom, forgetting every time that you’re the one who actually cooks. 

texts you “when are you coming home 😩” every 10 minutes and leaves 28 voice notes, all of them sighs. 

when you return: “finally. i was thinking about ordering you off amazon if you didn’t show up.” 

itoshi rin

rin acts like it’s whatever. says, “she’s probably out. it’s fine.” 

it is not fine. 

starts pacing the apartment like he’s rehearsing a monologue. 

checks the time like he’s your parole officer. opens the closet to see if your shoes are still there. 

mutters “what if she met someone smarter. taller. funnier.” like he’s fighting inner demons. 

keeps walking into rooms and frowning like they offended him. 

when you come back, he’s sitting in the dark, arms crossed. 

“you didn’t text me. or call me. or say ‘rinnie, my love, i’ll be back soon.’ what am i supposed to do with that?” 

then immediately pulls you into a hug like he’s been deprived of oxygen. 

itoshi sae

acts like he doesn’t care. “she’s out. whatever.” 

literally sits on the couch with his arms crossed like he’s waiting to argue. 

glares at the wall. then at your phone charger. then at your slippers. 

ends up scrolling through old texts, rereading the one where you said “brb i’m going pee.” 

calls you and doesn’t even say hello. just: “so you abandoned me now?” 

you tell him you just went out for groceries and he replies, “okay. so you’d rather be with onions than me. good to know.” 

when you come back: “you didn’t even ask if i wanted to come. i could’ve carried the bags. held your hand. flirted with the cashier to get you a discount.” 

kaiser michael

absolutely losing it. like, cartoon-level panic. 

he opens the door expecting to see you, only to be met with dead silence and a couch that looks too empty. 

dramatic gasp. 

“she’s gone. my freundin is gone. and i don’t know who i am anymore.” 

immediately checks your location. sees you’re at the pet store. starts spiraling. 

“what if she meets a guy who likes cats more than me? what if he’s german, too?? no. NO. I’M ONE OF A KIND.” 

facetimes you mid-aisle and when you pick up, he says, “don’t buy a hamster, buy a plane ticket back to ME.” 

when you return: grabs your face in his hands, all breathless like a war reunion. 

“don’t ever leave me again without telling me the exact time, duration, and intention of your trip. and a selfie.” 

karasu tabito

the worst combination: clingy and sarcastic. 

the moment you’re not home, he sends you a video of him dramatically opening the fridge, seeing it empty, and saying, “wow. abandonment. you left me to starve.” 

updates his IG story with a selfie captioned “#widowed.” 

facetimes you and holds your blanket up to the screen like, “you see this? this smells like you. this is all i have now.” 

calls his mom and says, “remember that girl i told you about? yeah. she left me. she’s dead to me.” 

when you get back, he immediately flops on you. 

“i couldn’t even be toxic today. who was i gonna annoy? the toaster?? never again, babe. next time you leave, i’m hiding in your purse.” 

yukimiya kenyu

starts off normal. reads a book. drinks tea. listens to classical music like a refined man. 

but after 45 minutes of silence, he starts looking around like a ghost might appear. 

opens the window and sighs like he’s in a french film. 

talks to the cat you guys don’t even own: “she’s usually here by now. i hope she’s okay. she’s my sun, my moon, my stars…” 

makes himself a sad cup of tea and drinks it in your sweater (that’s too tight for him and the fabric is snapping). 

when you finally walk through the door, he says, “oh. you returned. i only had to make three voicemails about how much you mean to me. no big deal.” 

hugs you for an entire minute and whispers, “next time, take me with you. i can fit in your tote bag.” 

shidou ryusei

bro flips out like a sitcom character whose wife just left him for a yoga instructor. 

immediately calls you and when you don’t answer in 0.2 seconds: “babe? where are you?? i’m losing my mind, i think i’m seeing things. the plants are whispering.” 

drags your hoodie around the apartment like a lost child. talks to it. 

makes a dramatic tiktok where he fake cries into the camera and captions it: “she went outside without me 💔 pray for me y’all” 

tries to track your location. can’t. assumes you’re on the run. 

when you get back, he clings to you like velcro. 

“you LEFT me here, alone, with myself. do you even know how dangerous that is?? never again. we’re getting a gps tracker. download life 360 right now.” 

bachira meguru

step 1: walks in. 

step 2: realizes you’re not home. 

step 3: whispers, “... uh oh.” 

this man has the emotional regulation of a bouncy ball. the second he doesn't see you smiling at him from the couch, he starts spiraling like he's in the middle of a villain origin story. 

“did she get bored of me? is this my joker arc?” 

talks to your plushies like they're your personal council. lines them up and goes, “okay guys, serious meeting. our queen has vanished. thoughts?? theories?? conspiracy??” 

makes a whole art piece with crayons titled “come home, baby, i miss you.” 

facetimes you with his face one inch from the screen like, “WHERE. ARE. YOU.” 

“you said you love me and then you LEFT. you broke the sacred trust. i can never emotionally recover from this.” 

when you walk in with bubble tea: “you were gone for so long i started humming to the walls. they’re my friends now. you can’t replace them.” 

but then he tackles you in a hug and whines, “next time i’m coming with you. i can fit in a shopping cart if i curl up.” 

ness alexis

you are his sunshine. his oxygen. his wi-fi connection. 

so the one day you're not home when he walks in with a bright little “i’m back~!” and there’s no answer? he’s devastated. 

full meltdown. texts you: i’m home!! wait where are you are you okay?? did someone steal you??? i miss you already. it’s been 3 minutes. 

paces around the apartment like a sad little elf, sniffing your perfume from your jacket and sighing like he's in a boyband breakup ballad. 

sits on the floor with your fuzzy socks and says, “i wore these once when you weren’t looking. they made me feel safe.” 

calls kaiser and says, “yo do you think she left me?” kaiser was like “she went to the pharmacy.” ness: “so she’s gone.” 

posts on his close friends story: “miss her. wish she’d come home. i lit a candle for her safety 🕯️😭” 

when you come back: “i was gonna knit us matching scarves while crying to sad kpop. you’re lucky you came back in time.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter fifteen - Exile

Pairing: pre! Poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: you and Hyrule's wake up after the dungeon disaster and some hard conversations are had. Hyrule has a realization. Unfortunately there are still many more difficult discussions to come.

(Aka: you tell the same story three times, Hyrule has a realization and too many feelings, and Wild is pretty sure tomorrow is going to suck.)

Warnings: cursing, grief, hard discussions

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous masterlist next

-------

Four is in the middle of staring into the trees and arguing with himself mentally during watch when you jolt awake.

It's been almost twenty-four hours since you emerged from the temple, and you are only now awake.

You gasp, startling upright with wide eyes as you look around. Your shoulders are high, and your breathing is shaky.

"You're awake," Four breathes out.

Your gaze snaps to him, shoulders relaxing. "Hi."

"Hi," Four echoes.

"Where's Hyrule?" You ask as you start looking around again.

Four points behind you to where Hyrule lays in his own bed roll. "He's there. He hasn't woken up yet."

You turn to look at Hyrule and elaborate on your thoughts further. "Oh, thank goodness. He's alive."

"He is. You both looked... rough when you came out.

You give a shaky laugh. "I felt rough, too."

For just hums, finding the least aggressive way to ask the question that weighs in his mind. "Why did you go in?"

You look at him, gaze guarding yourself. "Hyrule was... he went in and wasn't himself... I went in after him."

That... isn't what Four thought you would say. It's a little reassuring that you aren't the one who went in first, but that you went in at all is terrifying.

That's the kind of thing his angel would do.

You aren't them, though.

(Right?)

"What even happened?" Four asks you.

"The whole place was an evil magic death trap," you sigh as you lean back onto your hands. You sound as if you are resigning yourself to something and only half awake while you do so.

"That sounds right."

"There wasn't even a tool or anything cool at the end. Our prize was not dying," you snort, not awake enough to try to be outwardly upbeat just yet.

"Well I glad you're alive."

"Yeah... me too."

Four wants so badly to ask for more information.

He wants so bad to ask for what exactly happened.

He wants to ask about why you were dragging Hyrule out of the place.

He wants to wrap you up and shield you from the world.

He wants to shake you and demand that you never do this again.

"I'm sure I'm preaching to the choir, but dungeons are awful, and I hate whoever makes them," you sigh as you get out of your bedroll and stand up.

Four snorts at that, "You're right."

"Yeah. I don't know how you guys do them."

"We have to."

"That... makes sense," you sigh.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Four asks softly, allowing himself to embrace the softer parts of him for a moment.

He can't let them run the show for long right now, not while you're here stirring up grief and guilt. He knows it isn't your fault, though.

He just also can't let his emotions run the show while he's so - unsure of his emotions.

You give a slow sigh. "I'm just - it's been a rough however long we were in there."

"About two days," Four says.

You make a soft sound. "Oh."

"Do you.... want to talk about it?" Four asks.

You just sigh again, "I just - I messed up everything. I tried to do the right thing, but all I did was mess up."

"I'm sure that's not true. You made it out."

"I - you're going to be so mad at me - all of you are."

He frowns, unsure what could possibly be as bad as you're saying. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Just - If I tell you you have to agree not to yell at me until I'm done."

"I'm not going to yell," Four says immediately.

He means it.

Even if you're right and he is about to be mad at you - which he very much doubts - yelling is not the solution.

You sigh, crossing over to come sit closer to him.

"I made a deal with a fae, made Hyrule a Promise after saying I wouldn't do that, and used violence to knock him out and then dragged him," you say quickly, looking at the fire instead of anywhere else.

Four just swallows. That... sounds bad, all right, but there has to be more to the story. Up until now, you haven't shown violent tendencies towards people.

"Why?" He prompts.

You look at him this time, shoulders hunching up by your ears. "I - I wasn't thinking when I made that Promise to Hyrule. I say things like that, and I didn't realize until after! I know that dosen’t make up for it, but I didn't - I didn't mean to."

"I'm not mad at you for that. You know it was wrong, and you're going to make a better effort going forward, aren't you?"

"I am! I don't want to cross his boundaries ever," you say with enough guilt in your voice and posture to paint an entire castle.

"Okay. You'll have to talk to Hyrule about it, but I'm not mad at you for that."

"And the other things?"

"That depends on context," Four says carefully.

You nod and bite your lip. "I - don't know what exactly was going on in that temple, but there was some sort of... magic that was being used on Hyrule to make him hear things, and he wasn't really aware of reality."

"You mentioned he was acting weird."

"I don't know what he heard. He had maybe ten minutes of lucidity total... but there was a fae who controls the temple, I guess? They were the final challenge or something. We were given a choice to stay or leave."

"And he chose to stay?" Four asks with mounting dread.

If Hyrule was being controlled by faerie compulsion magic to the extra you say....

Well, that's bad on levels Four isn't able to name just yet.

"He did. Whatever magic was being used just got stronger the longer we were there. I said he couldn't stay and... was offered a deal..." you say as you toss him a quick glance.

"Tell me you didn't..." Four manages shakily.

Making a promise to Hyrule is bad enough. The man is a fae himself, which Four only knows because of the blacksmith's own herritage...

Making a deal with a malicious fae? That's often deadly.

You crack a shaking smile, "I was told if I could get Hyrule out in an hour, we would both be free."

"That was - so dangerous," Four says as gently as he can.

You swallow hard again. "I know. But - I the Promise I made was to get us both out alive..."

Four can't help the half sob the escapes him, heart clenching painfully."Oh (Y/n)..."

"I know I shouldn't have done it, any of it. I'll talk to Hyrule, and I'll face the consequences, but I try to keep my word, you know?" You offer.

You don't say anything about the magic around the promise, and Four isn't sure you know it's actually binding.

You were in a situation with no good choice.

Four bites back every ounce of anger for the fae that did this to you and Hyrule. Right now, he needs to be calm for you and for Hyrule.

You are not someone he knows well despite all of the hope he is constantly repressing, but you are someone who is stuck on this journey with him and is doing their best.

"You took the deal," Four breathes out.

"I took the deal. He was so out of it, and I tried to get him out with words. I did!"

"Don't tell me you knocked him out."

"I did... I know it's wrong! I do! I almost didn't do it, but I had to get us out."

"I - there was no good choice."

"I couldn't have dragged him the magic, and whatever he was experiencing made him want to stay so bad he would have fought me tooth and nail..."

"This is... a lot to process," Four sighs as he shoves back the headache forming.

"Yeah... I told you I messed it all up."

"No, you didn't. You did your best in a horrible situation set up against you. You and Hyrule have a lot to talk out and work on, but you didn't do anything just to be cruel."

"I would never!" You say immediately.

Four just nods, "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. But I'm not mad, and the only person who really has any reason to object is Hyrule."

"I know."

"He'll forgive you. He might just need space."

"I'll give him as much as he wants."

"It'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Four says.

"Okay."

He bites his cheek, pondering if he should warn you about who's on next watch or about how the others are going to want to know what you did too.

"At least Wars can't lecture me about my shield this time," you offer after a moment.

Four snorts, "No, he can't."

"I'm sorry I dumped all that on you."

"I offered to listen, I don't mind."

"Okay."

"The others are going to want to know what happened," Four says.

"I know."

"You don't have to tell everyone."

"I know."

"You did the best you could in a bad situation," Four soothes.

"I... yeah."

"I'm glad you're safe."

You crack a smile, "Me too... I shouldn't have told you all of that before I talked to Hyrule..."

Your voice is low and shaking as you stare at your hands.

He... can't argue with that, but he doubts it was a malicious act. "Maybe."

"Please don't tell anyone else," you say as you turn your gaze to him. "I'll talk to them all I just - Hyrule deserves to know everything before then."

Four nods. He can't disagree with that either. If he was in Hyrule's position, he wouldn't want to find out when everyone else did either. "I won't."

"Thank you," you manage as you look away.

Four let's the silence settle as he spins your words in his mind.

You definitely did some not great things, but then again... who hasn't messed up?

You made a promise to Hyrule, which is not great, but it's already done.

You made a deal with a fae, but if you hadn't, you'd have broken your Promise to a different fae...

Knocking Hyrule out isn't his first choice, but he definitely understands, and he isn't going to judge you for doing what you had to to get out.

Besides, you seem to be horrified enough by your actions for everyone. As long as this doesn't become a pattern, Four can look past it.

Although... Four can't shake the dread around the idea that you can knock them out. Knowing that you can feels... strange.

He's going to have to work through all of this later.

You sit with him as his shift passes.

"Who's on next watch?" You ask.

Four glances over, "Legend is."

"I'll take watch, I can't sleep anyway," you shrug.

"You don't have to."

"I'm okay to do it. He was worried out of his head. I'm sure, I think I heard him fighting earlier? Dunno, but I know you're all close to Hyrule, and none of you get enough sleep."

"You know we worried about you too, right?"

"Well... yeah? But I'm not worth losing sleep over. We aren't close."

Four ignores the flare of emotion. "You're worth caring about."

"I - thanks?"

He knows you don't believe him, and he doesn't know how to convince you.

"I mean it," he says.

"Okay. I can still take watch. I can't go back to sleep."

"I - if you're sure."

"I am."

"Okay," Four says.

He has to work on treating you like you can do things. He knows this. He won't fight you.

You just spent two days surviving a dungeon while babysitting Hyrule. You're obviously capable of keeping watch.

By the time he turns in, you are plenty awake enough to take last watch.

-------

You are in the middle of putting your water skin away when you see the others starting to wake. The sun creeps over the horizon.

Wild and Warriors both stir first, shifting and mumbling.

Twilight isn't far behind.

Sky, Wind, and Hyrule still seem pretty out of it.

Four, Time, and Legend seem to be sleeping but not far from stirring.

You let yourself relax, there isn't danger now only your boys.

"Whas'i'?" Twilight gasps as he jerks awake.

Warriors just groans into his pillow before he sits up and wipes at his face.

Wild yawns into his own pillow before rolling out of bed and pushing to his feet.

"Good morning," you call gently.

All three sets of eyes fall to you quick enough that you worry for their pain.

"You're awake," Warriors breathes out.

"And talking," you offer with a half shrug.

"Ya gave us a hear' 'tack! Wha'd'ya go inta th' dungeon for?" Twilight asks as he pushes to his own feet.

"Hyrule," you say as if that is a full and total explanation.

"Are you okay?" Wild asks.

"Much better now that I'm out of the evil magic temple thing."

"Good. You were in rough shape," Warriors says as he stands and starts walking towards you. "You and Hyrule both."

"I take it you two healed us?"

"We did," Wind says.

"Thank you."

"Ya don't gotta thank us," Twilight says.

"If you say so," you say.

"What happened?" Warriors asks.

"Evil magic dungeons suck is what happened," you shrug before you sigh. "I'll tell you all later. I don't want to tell the story a bunch."

"Of course," Wild says. "We're just glad you're safe."

"Me too," you say.

The three start about their morning routines, and watching them is reassuring.

You aren't alone.

You aren't the sober one.

You aren't stuck.

Twilight starts his patrol.

Warriors works on putting his things up.

Wild starts breakfast, which you could just kiss him for. You're so happy for real food.

Legend wakes with a start and a gasp of your name that has your heart breaking.

You can't find words fats enough.

Legend looks around and seems to be looking for something until his eyes fall on you.

"Morning, Ledge," you call out.

"You're awake," Legend breathes helplessly as his shoulders relax.

"Evil magic dungeons are, in fact, awful. Negative four was not a negative enough rating," you inform him.

Wild snorts at that.

Legend laughs with a tremor you don't point out, "You're telling me."

"If I never see a dungeon again, it'll be too soon."

He laughs a little more, sounding a bit delirious. "You came out alive."

"Yeah, I did."

"Your panther is a menace," he informs you.

You laugh a little. "Yeah..."

Legend comes over to sit by you. His hands shake. "You're okay, right?"

"I'm - yeah. There's uh some stuff to sort out with Hyrule, but I'm okay."

"What did he do?"

"Nothing."

"Then what happened?"

"I - want to talk to Hyrule first, but I'll tell you all after that."

"I - okay. You're both okay, though, right?"

"I... Hyrule is going to be upset... I don't know what exactly he saw and heard, but it seemed hard."

"What about you?"

"I'm just -... heart tired? I don't know. I'll be okay, though."

Legend frowns, raising his hand as if he is going to do something before he glances at it and drops the hand back down. "I'm- sorry. I know dungeons are hard..."

You crack a weak smile, "Just don't make me do that one again?"

"Never. I - we never want you doing that one again. We spoke to the locals about it, and it was run by a fae who feeds on misery."

You swallow.

So the others might have some idea what the dungeon is? Who runs it?

Wait.

Legend said 'I' before he said 'we'.

He is such a sweetheart.

"That makes sense. I didn't know it was misery, but I did meet the fae."

"You did?" Legend asks tightly.

"Mh, not my favorite."

"You didn't give it your name, did you?"

"No," you say firmly. "No, I didn't."

"Good."

There's the sound of someone moving around in their bedroll quite a bit.

You look over and find Hyrule fighting against his blankets with wide eyes.

"Hyrule?" You call out as you stand.

Legend stands up with you.

Hyrule's eyes snap to you, and he makes a miserable sound that tugs at your heart and your soul. It sounds like pure grief.

"Hey," you manage. "Are you... feeling okay?"

"What did you do?" Hyrule asks you with a shaking voice and wide eyes.

You swallow to avoid making any embarrassing sounds of hurt. "Let's... Let's go talk. There's - I want to talk to you about this all first."

"What did you do?" Hyrule asks you again, sounding more upset with each word.

"Let's go talk," you say as you start towards the edge of camp. "I pro- I'll tell you everything."

"Do you want company?" Legend asks.

"No. No, we'll be okay," you say.

Hyrule follows you to the edge of camp on shaky legs, and you try to shove down the mounting dread.

You stop and wait for him.

"What did you do?" Hyrule asks you a third time, voice weak and eyes searching. He sounds desperate to get an answer.

You don't blame him.

"I really messed up," you say as calmly as you can. "So much actually, and I owe you so many apologies. What do you remember? I'll tell you anything! I just - I don't know how much you know."

"Not... Not much. You knocked me out? And uh - I was hearing a dead person..." Hyrule swallows as he looks anywhere but you.

You wince, "Yeah... yeah, that makes sense."

"What happened?"

"Just - don't -... Let me explain it all before you freak out?" You ask.

You are sure he's going to be upset. You can't blame him for it wither.

"I'll... try."

"Okay," you say as you take a deep breath. "Okay... so I'm not sure about all the magic stuff, but you were acting weird around the temple even before you went in."

"I... felt weird... floaty almost."

"Well, come to find out there's a fae who runs the dungeon that feeds on misery? Anyway, you were in some weird trance? You went into the dungeon after Four and Wild left, and I followed you in because you were really out of it."

Hyrule frowns as he looks at you. "You followed me in?"

"Yeah, well, the door disappeared, and you kept floating away? I found out later that the fae that runs the place was... controlling you? I'm not sure how exactly but some sort of magic. You were hearing a voice that wasn't there."

"Yeah.... I - yeah."

"I had a faint voice I heard too? I dunno, dosen’t matter right now. Anyway, the whole place was a death trap. Tricks and boobytraps everywhere. You weren't aware of anything but whatever voice you were hearing for most of it."

"Oh."

"Anyway, after however long, I got you to sit down. You became just lucid enough to tell me not to trust my ears and then fell asleep. I met the fae who runs the place, and they told me they were controlled you and said we'd face a test?" You sigh, unsure how exactly to explain everything but doing your best to just power through.

"Oh no..."

"Yeah. Well then, I uh- I accidentally made you a Promise?"

"What?!" Hyrule demands with a high and tight voice.

"I know! I know I said I wouldn't! I didn't mean to! But I did because that's just - I did."

"Why would you do that?!"

"I just told you I didn't mean to," you say quickly. "But uh - there's more?"

"Fine," Hyrule sighs heavily. "What else?"

"So after our break where I also took a bit of a nap, we kept going. There were more death traps, but we finally get to the last room where the fae is, and she says we can leave, but you're so out of it, you say you want to stay."

"That's not all, is it?" Hyrule asks you tightly.

"No... I say they can not have you - and it's a whole thing. Anyway, they offer me a deal -"

"Tell me you didn't," Hyrule says tightly. He looks ready to be sick.

"They said if I could get you out in an hour, we would both be free."

"Are you telling me you made a deal with a strange and malicious fae?" He draws with a tone that asks if you're serious even without the words.

"That's not even the end of it," you sigh heavily.

"What else could there be?"

You wince, "So I take the deal, and you are still being controlled, and you don't want to come with me. I couldn't realistically drag you out while you were awake and controlled, so I uhm... knocked you out?"

"What?" He blinks.

"I uh - I knocked you out. I know I shouldn't have, but I didn't know what else to do! And I understand if you're mad and I'm sorry..."

"Is that everything?"

"Well, after I knocked you out, I then dragged you? But uh, we're free?"

Hyrule takes a deep, shaking breath. He clenches his jaw a few times and pins you with his stare.

"I don't even know where to start," he says lowly.

You swallow thickly, pushing down the urge to run.

He deserves to say his piece.

-------

"I don't even know where to start," Hyrule says lowly.

His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. Anger, affection, fear, pride, grief, and doubt all swirl like a horrible natural disaster.

You stand there before him looking torn between fleeing and staying.

"I really am sorry. I know pretty much all of what I did was the wrong choice," you say as you try to shoulder responsibility.

For a moment, Hyrule wants to damn you because you took him from the place he could have seen his honeybee one last time.

He knows that's ridiculous, though. He wouldn't have really seen them, and he would be dead now.

"You said you wouldn't make me Promises," Hyrule says as evenly as he can even though he wants to kick and scream and fight.

"I know," you say softly.

"You shouldn't ever make a deal with a strange and malicious fae," he informs you tightly.

"I... What else was I supposed to do?" You ask him, looking as if you truly want an answer.

"Anything else!" Hyrule snaps.

You flinch at that, and he can't decide if he's guilty or vindicated.

"I... really couldn't. That's not who I am and... the Promise I made you was to get us both out alive," you admit.

Hyrule closes his eyes, tips his head back, and lets out a heavy sigh. "You really made a mess with that."

"Yeah..."

"You knocked me out," he says as he opens his eyes to stare up at the clouds.

"I did... I didn't know what else to do."

"That's probably the best thing you could have done at that point... just - don't do that again."

"Okay."

"No more Promises, either."

"Okay," you say.

Hyrule just sighs as he looks to you, "I can't believe you. That - everything you did was -!"

He stops and takes another deep breath.

You are stubborn, apparently, and a magnet for danger.

The only other person who could have gotten themselves into the situation you did would have to be his honeybee.

As he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, Hyrule lets his magic take stock of the faint bond the Promise leaves behind and stops.

Oh.

Oh.

He's been a fool.

Your magic is there, and it still feels achingly familiar.

It feels familiar because it is.

Only his honeybee would get themselves into such a dangerous and frankly ridiculous situation.

Only Hyrule's honeybee would befriend a panther.

He needs to do something.

He needs to say something.

He needs to hug you.

He needs to demand what you were thinking.

He needs to sort out the root of the feelings around the dungeon and your actions.

Hyrule is still so incredibly wound up, and he doesn't think he can say much that isn't going to be damaging.

"I'm going to get some air. The others are going to have questions, you can answer them or not," Hyrule says as calmly as he can.

His hands shake.

"Do you want them to know?" You ask him.

"I - they can. I just - I need space. I have to process everything."

"Okay..." You say.

Hyrule nods before he goes into the trees.

He just needs to walk it off.

That's all.

His frame shakes as he walks.

The ambient nature magic should be enough to drown out the faint bond of your Promise.

It isn't.

Hyrule's feels that literally magic bond like a lifeline at sea.

The foliage around him blurs. It isn't important to him right now.

Hyrule's can't name what he feels for all the gold in all the worlds.

But, oh, does he feel.

He feels so much.

Good.

Bad.

All of it.

His emotions are all the emotions.

Hyrule isn't sure what he is even upset about.

He knows he's happy to know that his honeybee is back in his life in some way.

He knows he's hurt that you are on a lifetime where you don't know him.

He knows he's got a lot of feelings around you making a Promise after saying you wouldn't.

Hyrule knows he has feelings about you dragging him from the proverbial lion's den.

He just needs space to think.

That's all.

-------

Wild isn't really sure what you're going to tell them, but he's pretty sure it's not going to be pretty. It's after a tense discussion that has Hyrule in the woods that you gather everyone together to talk.

Legend and Warriors sit on your left with Wind and Spooky on your right.

Wild sits with Twilight and Four.

Sky and Time si to the left.

"So first, I want to say thanks for healing Hyrule and I... it was a rough, however long in the dungeon," you say with a voice that only shakes a little.

"Fourty five hours, thirteen minutes, and three seconds," Time says as if on autopilot.

You wince, "yikes."

"Why would you go in?" Wild asks, "I don't get it. Hyrule was hurt, and you were against the idea."

You look at him, and for a moment, you look as if you take offense, but then you sigh.

"I didn't want to go in, Hyrule was really out of it, and he went in first, so I went after him. It... didn't get better from there," you say as you look around.

"Wait - Hyrule went in?" Legend asks with mounting horror.

"It's not his fault?" You offer weakly.

"What do you mean?" Time asks slowly, as if he isn't sure he wants to hear the answer.

Wild dosen’t blame him.

"Mind control magic? I don't understand it all, but the fae who runs the place made him experience things and lose touch with reality?"

"Tha' ain't righ'," Twilight says lowly, as if he wants to growl. "Only a yell'a bellied cow'ad hasta sink down t' mind control."

Wild takes a slow breath. He dosen’t understand magic as well as others, but to be controlled like that sounds cruel.

"Yeah, well... I went in after him, and then the door shut and disappeared. The whole place was a death trap, boobytrapped to hell and back," you explain with something between anger and horror.

Wild wants to hand you a warm drink and shield you from the rest of the world. You've already done so much.

"What else?" Warriors prompts.

"The longer we were in there, the worse the mind control got," you say with a slow breath out. It's an obvious attempt to stay calm. "Hyrule wasn't aware of any danger? I kept pulling him out of harm's way. He's a lot harder to pull away from a goal that I thought he would be, by the way. He's strong!"

You give a little laugh that makes Wild's heart cracks into pieces.

"That sounds awful," Sky frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Did you beat the fae?" Wind asks excitedly.

Four just listens, offering you a silent nod. He seems to be reassuring you as if he already knows.

Wild supposes the blacksmith might.

"I'm much better now. Hyrule isn't being controlled anymore. I didn't exactly beat the fae so much as... get lucky my mistakes worked in my favor."

"What does that mean?" Legend asks you.

"You didn't give your name, did you?" Time asks tightly.

"No. No, I uh, did some other things."

"What did you do?" Warriors asks.

"It don't matt'a, ya made it ou'," Twilight tries.

"Well, I Promised Hyrule I'd get us both out alive, and you know, I like to keep my word," you say.

Wild thinks it's a tactful way to dodge around the magical and dangerous aspects.

"Oh shit," Legend hisses.

"Well, yeah. Heard whispers that I couldn't make out. That was no fun. Anyway, after Hyrule took a nap and I met the fae the first time, we eventually get to the last room, and it's a mess."

"First time?" Sky asks with mounting tension.

Wild does not like any of these implications.

"Yeah? They admitted to controlling Hyrule and said we'd face a test? Anyway, they left. We make it to the final room, and the fae is there again, and they say we can leave if we want. Hyrule didn't want to..."

"Please tell me you sucker punched the fae," Wind grins.

"Uh... no? I tell the fae they can't keep Hyrule, and it's a whole thing. So they offer me a deal for some reason -"

"Tell me you didn't take the deal from a strange and malicious fae," Warriors says as he burrows his face in his hands. "For the love of everything, please."

You wince again, and Wild thinks he's going to have a heart attack.

"Wars..." Four tries.

"I took the deal?"

"What was the deal?" Time asks with a sigh.

"If I could get Hyrule out in an hour, we'd both be free. I take the deal, right? Hyrule... dosen’t want to come with me even after I asked a few times... So I knocked him out a little bit?" You say as you look pointedly at your hands.

"A little bit?" Wild asks weakly.

"A lot?" You correct. "I talked to him about that already! But uh... yeah. Then I dragged Hyrule out, and uh heard you guys? I think I fell on someone?" You wound far less sure about everything after dragging Hyrule out.

"Well... we're just glad you made it out," Wild says in what he hopes is a calm and reassuring voice.

"Me too," you laugh weakly.

Wild swallows the urge to pull you into his arms. You have no reason to want that from him.

"We shouldn't have left you there," Wild says softly.

You give him a soft, sympathetic smile, "It would have taken anyone with grief."

"It didn't take you," Legend says softer.

"It tried," you say softer as well, "it really really tried."

"But you're here. That's what counts," Wind says as he hugs you from wher ehe is beside you.

You smile weakly, hugging the kid back. "Thanks."

"I still can't believe you knocked Hyrule out," Wild admits.

The idea of you doing that is... wrong.

Some of it is probably your similarities to his firefly. Some of it is just how you've been acting since you met.

You have been friendly, but not mean.

"I... yeah," you say, letting go of Wind. "Me neither."

"Would you do it again?" Legend asks you.

"What?"

"Now that you're out, would you knock someone out again?"

"Uh, no? Not unless I'm the one performing surgery? Please never make me perform surgery. That would be a horrible plan, actually," you start to ramble, horror dawning on your face.

"No one expects you to do surgery," Time finally cuts in. "We will be discussing why, exactly you knocked Hyrule and and whether or not you can handle situations like that again."

Wild winces in sympathy. That's a nice way of Time saying 'I'm not sure I trust you'.

You look ready to be sick, but you nod. "Okay."

"We're just glad you're okay, and that talk can wait until after we get to town and have time to process," Warriors cuts in as he gives the oldest a dirty look.

Wild... isn't sure what to make of that.

Usually, warriors and Legend are the more weary group members, but... they seem to be protecting you?

Weird...

Did you... do something to them?

Wild pushes that thought from his head. He has no proof, and he's just tired.

He can keep an eye on things, but none of your behavior indicates any malicious motives.

"If that's what you think needs to happen," Time says stiffly.

Wild hopes Time takes it easy on you.

"Someone should go check on Hyrule," Four says with a sigh.

"I can," Legend says quickly. "I'm sure he -

"If you're checking on him, you should know he's pretty upset," you say from where you are.

"I bet he is," Sky frowns as he looks you over.

"He does know what happened, dosen’t he?" Time asks you with a heavy gaze.

"I told him. I - Hyrule deserves to know. He just, you know, wasn't thrilled?" You offer with a weak shrug.

Wild offers a weak smile. "It's going to be okay. He just... needs time."

"I'm not saying otherwise," you say softly. "I'm just saying if anyone is going to check on him, they should know he's upset."

Wild decides that tears it.

You aren't malicious.

You just got handed a bad hand of cards during the dungeon, and you did your best.

"I'll meet the rest of you in town, I'll bring Hyrule when I do," Time says as he looks around the group. "I think we all need some rest."

Wild nods, starting to pack up.

"I'll see you all there," Time says.

-------

Next - wip

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[secretlysamcro]

Part 3: The lost Boy | Series Masterlist.

Female reader x Jax Teller MAJOR SPOILERS!, & explicit language If you're under the age of 18, haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Its been nearly three months since you saw or spoke to Jax.

Nearly three months since the night he showed up at your door looking like the world had finally swallowed him whole. "Opie's dead" he had told you, his voice hoarse as if speaking the words out loud made is so much more real. You pulled him in, let him fall apart quietly in your arms and held him long after his breathing had finally steadied, and his fists were no longer clenched. You stayed like that all night, his head resting on your thigh as your fingers moved gently through his hair, the silence between you louder than anything you'd ever known.

That night, it wasn't about the affair. It was about pain, about grief. It was about the parts of him that no one else got to see. And finally, when he got up to leave just before dawn, You didn't kiss, didn't touch like you usually would. He just looked at you for a moment too long, like he wanted to say something but didn't trust himself to say it.

And after that? nothing. No calls, no texts, no midnight visits. Nothing.

At first, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Grief can make people act strange. You told yourself he'd reach out when he could breathe again. So that's what you did. You gave him space, time to navigate through his chaos. But when weeks passed, then months, you started calling, messaging, you even drove past TM sometimes, desperate and ashamed, only to see him strolling across the lot, alive and fine acting as if nothing had changed. It took everything in your god damn soul not to blow this whole thing up. To stop yourself from pulling up into TM and letting everyone know exactly who the fuck you were. But Miss Petty? she'd gone into hiding. Because this, this was torture, this was your heart breaking into tiny pieces, with nothing and no one around to help you pick them up.

So you broke, not all at once, but slowly. You started drinking more, going out with people you didn't care about. Letting yourself get touched, kissed, taken, just to feel something that might pull you out of the ache. The men were forgettable. The sex was hollow and the mornings after were even worse. You should've learned from the last time you tried to get over Jax, letting another man touch you, hoping he'd feel something like he did. It didn't work then, and it sure as fuck isn't working now. So after a while, you stopped. Cut back on the drinking, cut the sex out completely. You were broken before and after your so called remedy, still fucking broken.

"Mornin' darlin" Jax murmurs as he steps into the kitchen, his voice smooth. He leans down and presses a kiss to Tara's cheek. "You sleep okay?" he asks, moving towards the counter, grabbing the coffee pot and filling his mug.

"I did" she replies lightly, slinging her ID badge around her neck, adjusting it just a little. "I've got to get going...early surgery"

Jax nods, setting his mug down "You want a coffee before you head out?" his fingers lingering over the second cup.

"No I'm good" she walks over, slow and composed, looking up at him with her soft eyes. "I love you Jackson" she says, with a hand over his heart.

"You too" he says, tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear his hands then trailing downwards until he's holding her by the arms then kisses her slowly. When he pulls away, he nods to the hallway "boys still asleep?"

"They had a late night last night, They'll be down for a while" she laughs, grabbing her keys off the hook and sliding out of the house in habit.

Jax stood in the kitchen long after the front door closed behind her. The sound of her heels fading towards her car, followed by the soft clink of it unlocking. He didn't move, just stood there, his coffee back in hand. When the engine finally rumbled to life and pulled down the street, he let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. A full bodied, desperate drag of oxygen like he'd been underwater for days and had finally broken the surface.

He braced his hands on the side, bowing his head. The boys were still sound asleep down the hall, the hum of the fridge the only other sound in the room. His ringed fingers now flexing over the ceramic, white knuckled like it gave him a lifeline.

It had been almost three months since he last saw you. He hadn't spoken to you since the night he showed up at your place, shattered over Opie. You'd opened the door without hesitation, no judgment. You let him cry. You let him breathe, and that was the last time.

Your calls? went unanswered.

Your texts? Deleted the second they lit up his phone.

Your voice notes? Sometimes he'd swiped them away without listening. Other times, if he had the chance to, he would play them just long enough to hear your voice tremble before he had to shut it off, unable to stand the sound of your pain coming through his speaker.

"Give me that fucking thing" your best friend Romy practically screeches as she yanks your phone out your hands. "No Jax, not tonight" she sighs, taking in the mess of your heartache. Her hands rub over the denim covering her thighs, a habit that always shows up when she's thinking too hard. Probably about the affair she once had with a handsome as fuck man called Colt. It ended badly, and that's exactly why she sympathises with you. She knows what this kind of pain feels like. And watching you beg a man just for a text back, whilst he acts as if you never even existed? That shit isn't just sad, its insulting.

"I wasn't gonna..." you start, trying to lie but cutting your words off with a half hearted laugh "Okay, I was" you admit, flopping your head back against the headrest. The takeout bag in your lap already growing cold. "I just don't get it" you mumble, confusion thick in your voice "I'm starting to think maybe she knows"

"Who knows what?" Romy asks, peering at you over the Cola cup, sucking on the straw as if her life depended on it.

"His wife" you say, spitting the word out like it tastes wrong. "I dont know how I just..."

"You think she saw you guys?" she asks, shifting in the drivers seat, both brows raised.

"No" you say quickly, assertive "We weren't stupid. We never did anything in public...unless you count the first time behind the diner. Or dangerous amount of times we gave eachother head in his van" you add with a dry laugh, your eyes drifting as if you were reliving the memories, but then your smile fades "I did go to the garage once, but..."

"The garage?" Romy cuts in, "As in the garage that's next door to the clubhouse?" Her expression sharpens, even she was surprised by your recklessness.

"Yeah..." you groan, rubbing your face, one of your individual lashes coming away with your hand. "But she wasn't there. And I was there for an oil change. I swear" you say, mentally retracing every step "Nah there's no way"

"Look y/n" she turns towards you. Pulling the pickle out of her burger and tossing it into your fries "I know this is the last thing you wanna hear, but I'm saying it anyway, because I love you. And because I've been exactly where you are"

She watches as you rest your elbow against the window, your fist digging into your chin, rolling your eyes like you've heard it all before, but she doesn't stop. "This was never gonna work out for you. He's a married man. With kids. You knew he wasn't gonna leave her. He told you that, you told me that's what he said...right?" she asks, making sure she's not rewriting anything in her head "Before he came to you about Opie, the time before that, after you had that big ass argument...he told you about the ties she has, how he was scared she'd take his boys away from him"

"His boys..." you echo, something shifting behind your eyes, your brain kicking into overdrive. "That's it. it has to be"

You reach between Romy's thighs, grabbing your phone back frantically "He wouldn't just cut me off like this. Not without saying it was over, not without something...This has to be about them, its the only thing that makes sense" you say, shaking your head as you begin typing again, another message, another shot in the dark.

Your bestie watches you, "So fucking stubborn you are" she sighs under her breath. When you don’t respond she adds softly "Why can't you just take this for what it is? the end...you're only gonna make it worse for yourself, please believe me when I say that" Her voice trembles just slightly, because she remembers what it felt like. The man she loved, the one who swore he needed her, ghosting like it was nothing and going back to his girlfriend like none of it ever happened.

“I’ll take it as the end” you mutter in defeat, eyes still staring at your phone screen “I just…I want to hear it from him”

Romy exhales beside you and the silence that follows is loud, so fucking loud. You can feel her stare, the way she’s biting her tongue to stop from saying what she’s already told you a hundred times.

“I’m not stupid” you speak “I’m not walking around blinded by the love I have for him…”

She doesn’t say anything just arches a brow, her glossed lips still around the nearly flat straw.

“…maybe just a little” you admit, forcing a half laugh that immediately dies in your throat. Tipping your head back against the seat, staring at the roof of the car like maybe the answers are written up there.

“How’d you do it?” You ask, quieter now “With Colt…How’d you get over him?”

She blinks, caught off guard before laughing, short and sharp, more breath than sound.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed babe but…” you finally look over to her “…I haven’t, not really” she sniffs nervously.

“I still think about him” she continues “Not every day, not anymore but sometimes I’ll see a car like his, or hear that dumb song he always played. And for a second, just a tiny fucking second, I’m right back there. Stupid and in love with someone who was never gonna be mine”

You don’t interrupt, but you know the feeling so fucking well.

“He promised me all the usual shit…” she says, brushing her thumb against her drink. “Said we’d get a place, maybe a dog, maybe a kid whatever version of forever he was selling. And I fucking bought it” her eyes begin to glass over, but she doesn’t let the tears fall, not this time.

“And then one day, he just vanished. Cut me off completely, just how Jax is doing now. Wouldn’t answer a single call or text. So I went to his place…” you already know the story, you heard it as soon as it happened. “…She opened the door. Pregnant, like big as shit pregnant. Made up some stupid excuse, said I’d got the wrong house or whatever it was. He’d still been telling me how much he loved me. How he was planning the breakup just had to figure out how and when to do it.”

She takes her eyes off you, staring ahead “whole time he was going back to his very pregnant girlfriend, who was none the fucking wiser. And that was the moment” her voice gets lower now, like she’s finally admitting something out loud “the first fucking time during that whole thing that I actually felt bad for her” she rolls her lips between her teeth “It made me question everything. Everything he ever said about her. About how cold she was, how they barely spoke. How she was just some controlling bitch who made him miserable” she shakes her head slowly “I don’t know if any of it was true, or if it was just easier to believe when I wanted to feel like the chosen one…drove by his house maybe a month or two later, she was outside holding their baby. He was walking to his car, with one of those baby seat chair things. He saw me, looked me dead in the eye, he didn’t even react…not even a flinch. It was like I was a stranger to him”

The car falls quiet again. Brushing crumbs from her fingers and reaching for the keys. You go to say something, but what the fuck could you even say? You lived through that heartbreak with her. You knew how badly It fucked her up, and still, you went and did the same fucking thing with Jax, who actually, was in an even more complicated situation.

“I just…” she exhales, almost a whisper “You don’t deserve this”

You don’t respond. You just look back down to your phone. The message you’d begun to type staring back at you. You read it once, then twice your thumb hovering over the screen. And then, slowly, word by word, you delete it all.

It was intimate, not rushed but not rough either. There was intention in every kiss, every breath and every deep grind of his hips. He kissed slowly, the kind that left no space between bodies or any doubt at all. And when he was close, when his breathing started to stutter, and his thighs started to shake, he moved to pull back, but hands trailed down to his waist, pulling him in closer, holding him there.

"Don't"

He doesn't answer. Not with words, just a flicker of something across his face, before he leans down again, kissing hard. Breaths begin to

tangle. Moans echoing into skin as fingers dug in, gripping tightly, like nothing had changed. Like this was right. Like this was home. The rhythm steady and unspoken, a language their bodies still knew. As if this was where he was meant to be.

Right here in this moment.

"I want another baby Jax" she whispers sweetly, the words a breath against his ear. Her hands sliding back down to the curve of his back, anchoring him in place holding him steady. She didn't let him move, she didn't want him to.

His eyes meet hers, just for a second. Then, without a word, he gave Tara exactly what she asked for.

The days and weeks that followed were heavy with mayhem. Between Pope's grip tightening around the clubs throat and the constant pressure of retaliations, business deals and figuring out alliances, Jax and his brothers had been in survival mode. Gun runs, cash drops and blood soaked stand offs. Everyone was running on adrenaline, short tempers and Jameson.

But Jax? he kept it moving. Always moving. Every plan, every decision fell on him. And he took it, carried it like he had to, like a man with no choice. To everyone looking in on the outside, he was steady, focused. A leader doing what needed to be done. But to his brothers and most of all his Mother, even if they didn't say much, the way he'd light cigarette after cigarette without touching his beer. How he would stare at nothing for too long, like he was trying to silence his thoughts. He wasn't sleeping much, that was obvious and when he was around, he wasn't really. And some of the decisions he was making? irrational, fuelled by rage. Most of them put it down to grief. Losing Opie, the last stable piece of his foundation. And maybe they were right but whatever else was eating away at him, that stayed buried, just as deep as his best friend.

"You okay baby?" Gemmas voice cuts through the air, casual but laced with suspicion. she's leant against the office doorway, arms crossed with that knowing gleam in her eyes.

Jax offers a quick shrug, playing it cool like he always does "Im good...just tired"

Gemma steps in a little further, her gaze drifting past him towards the lot. "You and Tara good?" she asks, her eyes doing all the talking.

"Yeah" he offers quickly "What made you ask that?" his chin tilts slightly.

"Just wonderin" she lifts a hand in the air waving to someone behind him. Jax turns just as Unser shuffles into view, giving them both that tired familiar smile

"Morning" he grunts. Gemma locking into conversation with him almost immediatly. She laughs at someting he says, swatting his arm playfully. Jax watching them both carefully, like he always did. Something in the way Wayne kept glancing his way made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. When Gemma took a step into the office to answer a call, Unser shifts his full attention to Jax.

"How's Tara?" he says casually, too casual.

His jaw swings side to side before answering, short and clipped. "She's fine"

Unser pauses then nods slowly before trailing in behind Gemma, like he was giving Jax a chance to elaborate, and when he didn't he gave Jax another look, not judgment or concern just...different. Jax stood there silent, wondering just how much the old man really knew.

It had been ages since he stepped foot up here. Not since the night of Opie’s wake. He remembered standing in this exact spot, looking down at the lot below, at the people gathered, their grief soaking between them. His head jolts, a fraction of movement with the memory creeping in like smoke. Tara, passing some kind of paperwork to Unser, then him slipping it into the inside pocket of his coat. Chibs had interrupted before jax could make sense of it. Before he found an excuse to disappear. Ending up at your door instead.

The air was always cooler on the roof. His shoes kicking at an old beer can that hadn’t moved since the last time he’d come up here, back when everything still felt fixable. He doesn’t sit right away, he just stands there, journal in one hand and his pen in the other.

The rooftop used to bring Jax a sense of clarity. A place to think, to breathe. But not tonight. Tonight, all it brought was ghosts. Memories of Ope came rushing in. Riding their first bikes down the street together, side by side without a care in the world. Getting patched in, running their first job. The dumb shit they used to get up to, laughing so hard they couldn’t even see straight. Bleeding for the club before they even understood what loyalty truly meant.

Jax huffs out a bitter laugh, running a hand down his face as he remembers more of their past. Splitting a bottle of whiskey and waking up with the same croweater, which at the time for them was a rite of passage. Being held at gunpoint together, but still fucking smiling. It was reckless, it was stupid, but it was theirs. Their youth. Their bond.

Then, without warning his memories ran to you. It started with the first time you met, that eerie time of midnight. He’d walked in by chance, still pissed from yet another argument with Tara. Over what? He couldn’t even remember now. He’d gone for a ride to clear his head, like he always did and ended up there. No plans, no expectations. So he didn’t plan for some stranger sliding into the booth across from him with that bold fucking smile and warm eyes. And what he really didn’t expect, was how that same stranger would be the reason he kept coming back. Night after night, drawn in like gravity. Until it wasn’t just coffee and conversation anymore.

Eventually, he sinks down slow, like his body carried weight it wasn’t built for anymore. The pen hovers over the empty page, unmoving as if even trying to write his thoughts demanded more attention he was capable of. When he finally touched the pen to the paper, it was sluggish.

He stopped writing after a short moment, his fingers tense around the pen as he looks up to scan the skyline of charming. The place he grew up, the streets he and his club bleed for. But today, it didn’t feel like home. His bottom lip begins to quiver, not dramatically, not at all, just enough for only him to notice.

Something about the way Romy spoke to you that night finally fucking clicked. It wasn’t like she was saying anything she hadn’t said before, but this time, it landed. Because as much as you loved him, and as much as he claimed he loved you. You didn’t deserve this.

So you stopped. You stopped the late night texts, the calls that forever went unanswered. You chucked out anything that reminded you of him. The bottle of Jameson he liked? Poured down the sink. Your favourite bedsheets, the ones that still smelt like him, ripped off your bed and shoved in the bin. And right of top of them? One of his hoodies he left behind, the one you used to wear practically every night. Gone. The lot of it.

You finally stepped back and started figuring out who the fuck you were again. Without him, without the half truths and empty promises. Of course you weren’t over him. Not even close, but doing those little things, it helped. And for the first time in a long time…you were starting to feel like maybe, you could live without him.

Romy had done whatever she could to be there for you. Just like you had always done for her. She wasn't mad that you were still up on Jax, she understood it more than anyone. She just wanted to shield you from that kind of pain. And now, you were finally starting to seem okay again.

"Alright are we thinking, calm collective girls night?" she asks with that usual sarcasm "Or one of our infamous karaoke disasters where we end up singing TLC at 2am, crying over our life choices"

You laugh on the other end, and it warms her chest. A sound she's missed. "I'm just pulling into the gas station, gonna grab a few bits" she adds, one hand on the wheel as she slides into an empty space. The bluetooth disconnecting as the car powers down. She mumbles her shopping list to herself as she climbs out, completely missing the row of bikes lined up neatly out front.

"And a pack of smokes darlin"

She froze at the entrance, her pulse quickening. He had his back towards her, but she didn't need to see his face. The voice was enough, and then their was his fucking emblem spread across his back. She wanted to let loose on him, give him what he fucking deserved, but she composed herself, manoeuvring strategically around the place. There were two other guys in the back by the slushie machines, both of them too, wearing their pride on their backs. She grabbed what she needed, forgetting most things, before rushing to the counter, fumbling with her card and muttering a sharp "thanks" before storming out.

Jax had already stepped out of the shop, leaving the other two to screw around inside. He stood by his bike, hands casually dipping into the pack of smokes he'd just bought. The afternoon sun casting a long shadow across the concrete, and for a second everything felt still. Until he looked up.

He never noticed her when she walked in, but he sure as hell saw her now. The flicker of recognition flared in his eyes. He'd only met her once, if that's what you could call it, ages ago, eating cereal in your kitchen when he used the spare key, walking in like he lived there. She clocked him instantly, his face unreadable, but the eye contact between the two, fucking loud. Romy tried, she really tried to keep walking, but the weight of everything you'd been through, everything he'd put you through, the restraint she had? yeah, out the fucking window.

"You're a fucking asshole" she hisses at him, shaking with fury. His shoulders shift but he doesn't say anything.

"I mean it...You're a fucking coward. Disappearing on her like that" she continues, stepping towards him barely able to hold the things in her hand along with her composure. "You should have been man enough to fucking say something. Anything. Instead you’re being fucking selfish. Ghosting her like some high school dipshit" she pauses, waiting for him to respond, and when he just takes a slow deliberate breath, she keeps going. "She still fucking cries for you, you know? stares at her phone like maybe someday you'll come crawling back like the cunt you are"

That last insult, that hit a nerve. Jax could take being called a dipshit. Could even swallow down the coward shit, the selfish shit because deep down, he knew he deserved it. But the second the word 'cunt' left Romy's mouth, something in his jaw switched. His mouth twisted into something harsher, teeth clenched and his lips curled back like he was ready to bite. It pissed him off. Not because she was wrong, because she wasn't but because the part of him that still cared hated hearing the truth in someone else's voice.

He doesn't lash out though, doesn't raise his voice, just internally calms himself down, pushing the image of you crying alone at home, waiting by the phone out of his head. Then, he walks closer to Romy and in that same cold, calm voice "Tell her to forget about me. Tell her none of it meant anything."

She blinks, the words hanging heavy in the small space between them. She looks him up and down before scoffing "You don't mean that"

"Yes I do" he lies, so smoothly it almost sounds real. But his fists were clenched in his pocket, tight enough to leave marks in his palms. And it took everything not to scream. Not to cave and tell her how much he missed you, how much he needs you. But he didn't. Because he couldn’t.

Romy stared at him, stunned into silence for the first time in months. Not because she believed him, but because she couldn't believe how far gone he really was. Heat began to creep up her neck, her throat burning with rage she had no energy to spit out. And then, she continued walking, shaking her head in the process. Promising herself right then and there, she'd tell you exactly what he said, and exactly how he said it. Because no matter how much it hurt, you deserved the truth.

The house was quiet when he stepped inside, it was later than it should’ve been, but he couldn’t give a shit. His head was a mess, his shoulders heavy and the taste of Romys truth still lingering in his thoughts.

The kitchen light was still on, and he had eyes on Tara before she even looked up, standing by the counter, half a glass of red wine cradled between her fingers.

“You’re drinking?” He asks, stepping in and hanging his kutte of a chair. “Thought you wanted…”

“I took a test” she says, before he could finish his sentence “was negative” she didn’t sound too upset, just resigned. As she took another sip of her wine, not making eye contact with him.

As she said the words, he paused. Eyes flicking down to her glass, then to her, his jaw clenching for just a second. Relief blooming in his chest so suddenly he had to steady himself. He masks it well but inside, he couldn’t be more content. He moves around the kitchen calm and focused, typing something quickly on his phone before placing it face down on the counter beside her. “Gonna go shower” he spoke the words quietly.

She watches him go, silence trailing behind him. Then with a sigh, she downs the rest of her wine in one slow gulp. Just as she was heading towards the living room, Jax’s phone buzzed against the counter. She turned her head fast, eyes narrowing on the unknown number in bold white across the screen. She stares for a second too long, without thinking she grabs the phone.

“Hello?” She says sharply, moving towards the back door the phone pressed tightly against her ear.

“You’re seriously calling him now? When he’s just got home to his wife and kids” she lets out a disbelieving laugh, venom slipping between each word. “He doesn’t belong to you, he never has”

*photos & gifs do not belong to me. Only the texts, divider & journal entry.

Ok so first of all, HUGE fucking thanks to my girlie @puffins-muffins who put up with my excessive messages, rambling, blablabla’s & jumbled screenshots. For listening to my forever changing ideas & actually giving me the motivation to write these next additions 😉 love uuuuuuuu 🫶🏽🖤

JAX TELLER MASTERLIST

xoxo secretly samcro

[sammyquarius]

Beneath the Mississippi

It’s a hot, suffocating Mississippi day. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin and never lets go, no matter how much the breeze tries to stir. The small town of Clarksdale feels heavy, like it carries the weight of every heartbreak and unspoken word.

Smoke’s been away for years—seven long, brutal years. He left after their baby girl, the only thing that ever felt like a future worth fighting for, was taken from them too soon. He couldn't look at Annie without seeing her pain. Couldn't bear the way she’d stare at him like he was a ghost, like he had failed them both in ways that felt irreparable. But now, here he is, standing on the dirt path that leads to the tiny grave just outside Annie’s house—the place where their daughter is buried, and a place that feels like the last memory of a love he can never get back.

He stands there for a moment, the heat making the air shimmer around him, and places the flowers on the grave. The bright, soft petals of lilies, the kind he remembers her loving, despite everything. He kneels down and whispers, his voice thick with sorrow.

“Papa’s here, baby girl,” he murmurs under his breath, his voice rough, cracked with years of unsaid words and missed opportunities. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him. He doesn’t care about anything but the weight of her absence and the ache that cuts through him like a knife every time he stands here.

Annie’s house is just a few yards away, the porch light dim and lonely, just like everything else around here. He’s been back to Clarksdale for hours, waiting for the right moment to see her. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get that moment, but he’s here now—because he’s here now.

And then, just as he turns to leave, he sees her.

Annie. Standing in the doorway of her house, her eyes narrowed, her body tense. She’s watching him, watching every move he makes, like she’s trying to decide if she can let him back into her world or if the damage is too deep.

“What do you want from me? ,” she calls out, her voice full of bitterness and hurt.

Smoke winces at the sound of it. He knows he deserves it. He hasn’t been there for her. He hasn’t been there for anyone. Not for her when she needed him most, not when their little girl had to leave this world too soon.

“I know I don’t have the right to ask you for forgiveness, Annie,” Smoke says softly, stepping back toward the porch, his boots crunching the gravel beneath him. “But I came to see you. Came to see our daughter. I never… I never meant for it to end like that.”

“You never meant for it to end at all,” Annie shoots back, her words sharp. “You left. You ran. And now you think you can just come back and act like everything’s okay?”

He takes a breath, swallowing hard. “I’m not asking for everything to be okay. I’m just asking to see you. I’m not asking you to forget, but I need you to know that I—”

“You don’t get to say anything to me, Smoke.” Her words hit him like a slap. She crosses her arms, her eyes blazing with hurt and disbelief. “You left me with the grief of losing our baby. The grief you didn’t even care to share.”

Smoke flinches, the weight of her anger crashing over him. The guilt—his guilt—wraps itself tighter around him, choking him. “I never stopped loving you. I never stopped missing you, Annie. I—”

“You left, and you doubted me,” she spits, the pain now bleeding into her voice.

"You doubted everything I believed in. You thought that… that whatever I was doing, it wasn’t enough to save her. You think that was easy for me? To keep trying? To believe in something when you didn’t?”

His heart aches at the anger in her eyes, at the way she holds her ground. But there’s no way to change the past, no way to take back the things he said when their world fell apart.

“I was angry,” Smoke admits, looking down at his boots. “I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand.I just… I don’t know how to fix it.”

But then, as quickly as it comes, it fades, replaced by the familiar ache of betrayal. “You should’ve been here,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “You should’ve stayed.”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out, but she steps back, shaking her head. “You can’t come back, Smoke. You can’t just waltz back in here like nothing happened.”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me,” he says again, voice steady. “But I came back because I can’t keep running. And I need you, Annie. I need you to help me. I’m opening a juke joint tonight with my brother. I need someone to cook. You are the one I need. I always knew that.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the fight within her, the battle of emotions she’s been holding in for all these years. The juke joint is a dream they had together once—something she always believed in. He’s not sure if she’ll agree, but he’s desperate. He needs to make this right.

“Why would I help you after everything?” she asks, her voice quiet but full of that familiar steel.

“Because,” Smoke says, finally meeting her gaze, “I’m still here. I still need you. And no matter what happened, I never stopped loving you.”

For a moment, she stands still, her eyes locked with his, searching for something she’s not sure she can find. But then, with a slow exhale, she turns, nodding toward the door.

“You want me to cook, Smoke? Fine,” she says, her voice steady. “But don’t think this is some happy reunion. You’ve got a long road to walk before we’re anywhere close to what we were.”

Smoke doesn’t care. At least they’re taking a step. At least they’re moving forward, even if it’s just a little.

He watches her disappear into the house, his heart heavy, but with a flicker of hope he hasn’t felt in years.

Note: Should I continue with this? Check out more content at  www.tumblr.com/sammyquarius. Like, follow, and comment!

[smutmind]

Goodbye Head ft. Wendy

The agency halls echoed with soft footsteps and muffled goodbyes.

Wendy walked slow, fingers brushing the plastered wall where old tour posters still hung. Thirteen years. From fresh-faced trainee to seasoned idol. Every corner of the building held a whisper of her past—early call times, tearful rehearsals, stolen naps on studio floors. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She turned the corner and nearly collided with someone.

"Ah—sorry," she started, then blinked. "Mr. Joon?"

He looked older. Grayer hair. Softer around the edges. But the same calm eyes, always watching without judgment. He stepped back, blinking as if trying to confirm what he was seeing. "Wendy... Wow."

She grinned. "It’s really my last day. Can you believe it?"

"I can’t. God, I remember when you came in with braces and a notebook full of lyrics you were too shy to show anyone."

Her laugh was quiet. "I still have that notebook. Somewhere."

He smiled, but something in it sagged, weary. They stood in the hallway as the silence stretched between them.

"You know," he said, clearing his throat, "I’m leaving too. Retiring, technically."

Wendy's brows lifted. "Really? I didn’t hear. When?"

"End of the week. No fanfare. Just... walking out."

She read his posture—shoulders rounded, tie loose, eyes that avoided hers for a beat too long.

"You okay?"

He gave a low laugh. "I don’t know. Poured everything into this job. Years just blurred by. All the birthdays missed, family I stopped calling back... I don't even have a plant at home to water."

Wendy's smile faded. Her voice turned soft. "I saw it. All of it. You were always the last one to leave. Even when I passed out in the practice room, you were the one who covered me with a coat."

Mr. Joon looked away.

"You gave everything, Mr. Joon. We noticed. I noticed."

For a moment, he didn't answer. Then: "It's strange. You get to the end and realize no one’s there to clap for you."

The ache in her chest surprised her. Wendy stepped closer. Close enough to see the faint wrinkle beside his mouth. Close enough to smell his cologne—subtle, woodsy, familiar.

"That's not true," she said. "I’m here."

He met her eyes.

Wendy tilted her head. "Come on. Just for a second."

She led him down the hall, past the break room she remembered napping in between vocal lessons. The light was off. The door creaked as it opened, and silence wrapped around them like dusk.

Mr. Joon paused inside. "Still smells like burnt coffee."

"And ramen packets," she added.

The hush between them deepened.

She stepped closer, fingers trailing the edge of the table where she used to sit and cry quietly after a bad dance eval. "You don’t deserve to feel alone. Not after everything you gave us."

He shook his head, mouth twitching like he might say something. Then he didn’t.

Wendy touched his hand. His skin was warm, trembling slightly. Their eyes met again, and something unspoken bloomed between them—gratitude, grief, tenderness.

Her voice barely above a breath. "Can I give you something?"

He hesitated. But he didn’t move away.

Wendy knelt slowly, fingers brushing his belt.

His breath caught.

She looked up, her gaze steady. "Let me say goodbye properly."

She opened his belt with slow, deliberate fingers. The metallic clink echoed in the silence. Her palms were warm against his hips as she unbuttoned and tugged down his slacks.

Mr. Joon’s breath stuttered. "Wendy… this kind of service… It’s only ever been offered to higher-ups. The executives, sponsors. Never someone like me. Not once. Even when you were all still under my care, I never—never expected anything."

She smiled gently, her lips grazing the outline of him through his briefs. "Exactly why you deserve it. You were kind. Always. No agenda. You watched over us. You watched over me."

Her voice turned tender, reverent. "So let me watch over you now. Just this once."

She pulled his briefs down, freeing him. He was already half-hard, heavy and flushed, and he twitched when the cool air kissed him. Wendy wrapped her fingers around his base with soft wonder. Her thumb stroked the tip, drawing a sharp hiss from him.

"You’re beautiful, Mr. Joon."

He groaned, looking down at her. She looked luminous even in the dim light—her skin glowing, lips plush, lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.

Then she leaned in and licked.

One slow drag of her tongue along the underside, from base to tip. He shivered. Her mouth opened, wet and warm, and she took him in—just the tip at first, circling it with her tongue.

"Jesus," he muttered, hand finding the table to steady himself. "You feel like a dream."

Wendy moaned softly around him, the sound sending a throb straight through him. She began to bob her head slowly, each movement smooth, her cheeks hollowing as she took more of him in.

His hips jerked. She steadied him with a hand against his thigh.

"Wendy—God—you don’t have to—"

She pulled off with a pop. "I want to. Let me spoil you. Just this once."

Then she went back, deeper this time. Her throat opened to accommodate him, slick and hot. Her other hand fondled his base, her lips working him with deliberate devotion. She wasn’t rushing—she was savoring. Worshipping.

He gasped, watching her. Her hair brushed her shoulders, catching the dim light. Drool slipped from the corners of her mouth as she took him deep again, again, her eyes fluttering closed with each descent.

Then, she looked up.

She locked eyes with him, mouth full of him, lips stretched wide. And then she moaned again—vibrating pleasure straight into his core.

"Fuck—" he choked. "I can’t—I’m gonna—"

She didn’t pull away. She sucked harder, faster, her cheeks flushed, her eyes never breaking contact. Her nails bit into his thighs just enough to ground him.

And then he came.

He spilled with a long, ragged groan, and she took it all—every drop—without breaking rhythm. Only when he trembled under her touch did she finally pull back, licking her lips, eyes still soft.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smiling up at him.

"Goodbye, Mr. Joon."

[sonieeslov]

Someone like you

summary: Geum Seongje can't remember when he stopped distinguishing memories from reality. Maybe it was last night, a week ago or since the day you left.

pairing: Geum Seongje x fem!reader.

genre: established relationship / angst / hurt/comfort / emotional / depressive / nostalgic / melancholy.

tw: su!c!de no explicit, grief, mental health themes, isolation, implied smoking, implied dissociation.

Seongje no longer smokes.

He gave it up the day you left, not for his health, not for a promise. He just didn't know what to do with his hands again if you weren't there to take it from his lips, to frown and tell him:

"Someday smoking so hard will kill you."

Days like these I wish it would, to still be here, without you, was crueler than death.

Since you left everything became an echo.

The sound of the water in the bathroom, the way he now only hears his own footsteps in the early morning, or how the freezer door closes by itself. The laughter of others on the street, nothing sounds like you, but everything reminds him of you.

At his apartment there is still the pink mug he gave you. He has never moved it, sometimes he runs his finger over it, as if touching it was touching you.

He does not allow them to see him, he's the same. He walks the same, wears the same, his voice still has the same indifferent tone. But if someone looks closely into his eyes, that person will realize that something has gone out inside him.

Geum Seongje doesn't allow himself to cry in front of anyone. But with you, during the nights, he does.

He cries like he didn't cry when he was told that you didn't wake up.

Like he didn't cry in front of the white coffin.

Like he didn't cry when everyone hugged him as if that was enough to comfort him.

────

That's where he takes refuge. In the orange hours. When the light comes through the window and the air smells of you.

That afternoon was no different from the others until the wind brought back a bitter memory, that melody he pretended to hate and even turned down the volume just to annoy you, but he really loved listening to it next to you.

It wasn't a coincidence. It was punishment. The sound bounced from some car in traffic filtering through the noises of the city. At first he thought it was an invention of his tired mind.

But no.

He heard it. And it broke him.

Not with force. Not violently. It breaks it slowly, like a crack that gives way after having endured too much.

And then come the images.

You laughing with your arms outstretched, asking him to take a picture of you anywhere, in an empty park, at the bus station, next to a garbage bag in the middle of the street, wet from the rain or sitting on an old sidewalk.

-Take a picture of me! Look, like this… already? Another one! This time with his arms up… Come on, Seongje!

And he, with his face of mock annoyance, lifted the phone as if it was weighing him down.

-What do you want so many pictures for, mmh? as he pressed the shutter.

-To remember this moment later, let's take a picture together Seongie!

-Aish, again with that ridiculous nickname? Besides I don't need pictures, I remember everything in my mind.

Liar.

Today I would give anything for just one picture where your face is close to his. One where he could touch with his eyes what he can no longer touch with his hands.

Always pretending he didn't like taking pictures of you, but the truth is he loved it.

He loved how you run to him after every photo to ask to see it, and how your eyes sparkled when you approved it.

Now all of that lives in his gallery. Thousands of pictures of you. Doing anything. Anywhere.

But it's too late.

Your name doesn't answer. Your laughter doesn't ring.

You were always everything he was not. And that drove him crazy, it fascinated him, it broke him down.

Seongje never admits such things easily. But now that you're gone, he understands. He feels it in his bones. In everything, you're what is missing

Details come without warning, without logic. Sometimes in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes just before falling asleep. As if your voice, even though it's gone, knows when to come in and shake her soul.

There are memories so small that they hurt more than the big ones.

There are things Seongje didn't notice while they were happening.

Or maybe he did, but he let them pass. Like someone who looks out the window without noticing what is beyond the glass. Not because he didn't care, but because he thought you would always be there.

Like that habit of yours of cleaning his glasses every night.

He would leave them on the nightstand, almost carelessly, and you would wait for him to fall asleep, at the slightest flicker of silence, pick up the glasses with your little fingers and wipe them with the hem of your shirt or the corner of the sheet.

And then, there were the cigarettes.

You would take the pack from his coat, from his drawer, from the table… and with great precision you would throw away two cigarettes a day, or sometimes three, When I made you too angry

Once, he went so far as to count ten, when he swore there were twelve left. And you just shrugged, pretending not to know anything.

-I swear these evaporate. -Maybe they're learning to run away from you.

Or acts as simple as stroking his hair when he's asleep, because that's the only way he'll let you.

Sometimes you pretended not to hear him when he cried while taking a shower. But you remained silent, waiting for him.

Seongje, the one who thought he was so invincible, so whole, so incapable of showing weakness, now cries like a child whose future has been ripped away from him.

Because you were his future.

Everything smells of memory. To what was. Of what will no longer be.

Somewhere in the corner of the room is your photo, one of many he took of you. One of those where you are looking away, your hair blown by the wind, smiling as if life were lighter with you in it.

Sometimes he wonders if he is dreaming you, or if you are dreaming about him from somewhere. Maybe you're fine. Maybe you're at peace. Maybe you're in that other world where there are no ambulances or calls in the wee hours of the morning.

And he’s still here. Counting the days in reverse. Silently hoping that one of these sunsets will take him to you.

There are still days when he pretends it doesn't hurt. Even when everything absolutely everything screams your name in his head.

The greatest love isn't screamed, it's held. And you held him.

Autor’s note

Brooo I almost cried writing this shit. That last part? Literally wrecked me. I guess music always hits different when I’m writing. This time it was “BAILE INoLVIDABLE” and my brain just went..

This one shot was tough as hell to write, not gonna lie. Like, trying to keep the same exact feelings from Spanish and put them into English? Lowkey impossible. But I tried my best

[the-anxious-stargazer]

About You || Ava Starr

Pairing: Ava Starr x Fem!Reader

Summary: As Ava enters the void that had taken Yelena, she is forced to face her deepest pain and it was not what she thought she would be seeing.

Words: 5.2k

Note: i am sorry for all the angst for this one, but hey i never write sad endings so hope you'll enjoy this!!! this is sort of a continuation of my recent work so please check it out as well! genuinely hoped we got to see Ava's void room too so i thought of this. also im loving the surge of Ava fics now that she's getting all the love.

[Masterlist]

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━☆☆☆━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

"I'm going after her."

Ava took a deep breath while pulling out Taskmaster's sword from her belt. She marches towards where Yelena had disappeared like a shadow and someone grabs her arm,

"And then what?" It was Bucky who reasonably questioned her action.

"If she did that, she did it for a reason." Ava points out, worrying about the blonde's safety. As much as Bucky wanted to believe her point of view, his judgement got the best of him and shots back at her,

"Well what if she's dead, huh? What if there's no coming back?"

Ava stares at the growing darkness outside thinking of something. Anything other than just standing around and waiting for it to take all of them. Even if Yelena had said terrible things about the brunette five minutes ago, she still cared for her. The brunette bit her lip as she tried to convince herself that there's still hope for her.

Just a sliver of hope.

"What if she isn't." Her voice filled with wonder.

Behind her John had his eyebrows furrowed while he tried to figure something out and remembered what had happened when he pulled Bob up from the hole they climbed out of earlier. The vision he saw himself being dismissive and cruel towards his now ex-wife. He had hoped to not be reminded of his regrets letting things go too far between him and Olivia. John wanted to pretend it was just a dream, yet deep down he knew he could never lie to himself about the divorce. John tries to rationalize his vision before opening it up to the team,

"Wait, wait, wait— I think she might be right. Back in the vault I went somewhere I can't explain." He joins in, pushing himself off the wall.

"What happened?" Alexie asks, still grieving for his daughter.

Everyone could hear the desperation in the Russian's voice and none of them could blame him for his state. He already lost a daughter, and sure as hell he could not afford losing his last one. Deep down Alexie knew he didn't deserve to feel the grief he felt after abandoning Yelena to deal with her emptiness but he wanted to change that. He can't let his daughter down again.

"When I grabbed Bob's hand in the vault I saw a vision. Something that happened before that made me feel so dull... So empty." John took a deep breath and remembered the look on his ex-wife's face when he walked out of the room and left her to look after their baby.

"It did bring me back to where I was after. It could be a portal of some sort."

"Maybe that's it! We enter the shadow and find Yelena. If we try hard enough we can get her back!" Alexie vouched for.

"Stop, we can't just jump to conclusions. We could all just turn into nothing and never return even if what Walker says is true." Bucky chimes in without realizing that Ava had already escaped his grip.

"Then I would rather die trying than accept that Yelena's gone. It can't be for nothing, Barnes." The brunette concluded before she put on her helmet and pushed through the growing void nearing them.

"It can't be all for nothing."

They watch in awe as Ava disappears in the void similarly to the rest of the civilians outside.

Ava felt her soul drop the moment she stepped into it. The heaviness of her body was overwhelming when she had awoken. She checked her body for anything missing though everything in her body was still in place. No phasing or pain, her body was put together. Her grey eyes looked around and recognized the old warehouse her father had bought in order to continue his quantum physics research. The loud creeks of the machine made her snap her head to its direction and there she saw her father's panicked figure running back to the computer. Elihas kept entering all the codes he thought that could stop the quantum tunnel from collapsing. It was Ava's first time to see how terrified her father was in that moment when she stood close to where he stood. He constantly muttered 'no' under his breath as he watched the screen flash red continuously.

"Daddy..." Ava almost sounded like her young self when she called for him.

She had almost forgotten how he looked as she stared into his side profile. All those years of suffering and pain had Ava forgetting her parents' voice and features, and she hated herself for letting it happen. Her mother's sweet voice when she sings her a lullaby to sleep was her favorite memory of her that she still holds dear to this day. As for her father, his stories about animals and insects piqued her interest. Ava wished to hear more of them when she grew, but her memory couldn't hold all those precious moments forever.

Elihas turned to the brunette when it looked like he heard her voice and she watched before her eyes as the quantum tunnel explodes, a quantum wave pushing him off from the computer. Ava reacted fast and untangled her physical body before the wave could hit her, but to her surprise it sent her flying. A loud thud was heard when the brunette landed on her side and she gasped from the force she felt when her body reappeared again. Her mask retracts when she tried to brush the pain off.

Ava turned her body at the sight of her father on the ground before the door to the lab was pushed wide open and her young self ran out to him, her mother tailing behind her.

"No—" Both her and Elihas cautioned them before huge waves of quantum energy bursts from the quantum tunnel.

Everything went black after.

Ava's ears rang from it all as she slowly opened her eyes and processed what she just witnessed. She couldn't believe that she had just relived that memory. Examining the area, she grasps that she was brought back to where she was earlier. She witnesses as Elihas rushes back in to reach for the computer to try saving his research and she shakes her head when she learns that her memory had repeated itself.

"No... not again." Ava uttered before she tried to reach for the door and get out of the memory. The metal frame wouldn't budge as she attempted to kick it open when pulling didn't work.

The brunette used her ability to phase past it and it felt like crashing into a brick wall when she couldn't get through it. A curse slipped out of Ava's lips at the failed attempts and continued to thinker for another way out around the lab, realizing the windows were too high for her to escape from. She felt the wave shove her off again but she quickly recovered this time and noticed a huge hole next to the door. Ava didn't let herself hesitate any further and ran towards it.

Yet before she could reach her exit, another wave pushed her off and it crashed her into another room instead. A cough came out of her as she tried to catch her breath on the floor when she gained consciousness again. Ava had landed on her stomach this time and she used her body weight to turn herself around, recognizing the ceiling of the room she had entered.

She stands up from the well tiled floor and studies the room only to notice the marbled counter tops and appliances resting on them. She couldn't forget that old yellow stand mixer that rested next to the microwave. The familiar furniture placed in the room and the vase that was frequently filled with a variety of flowers were the same as it was from how she left. Ava took off her gloves when she slowly paced to the fridge and saw the picture she had kept in the inner pockets of her suit, tenderly rubbing the face of the person she had missed dearly. Out of the rest of her pained memories she had in mind, this was the excruciating of them all that she hoped to never go through again.

It could have been the moment she sacrificed an innocent civilian during a mission for Valentina or her brutal training for SHIELD as their assassin—

But it was the kitchen she shared with Y/N.

A sinking feeling in her stomach formed when she sensed her presence. Ava then faces where she felt her and sees her former lover's back facing her as she leans by the counter with her head hung. The brunette remembered the Paramore shirt Y/N wore that day and how she had her hair down. It hurt just by seeing her in that very spot, knowing what was going to transpire.

"Ava please, you told me last week it would be the last mission." Y/N croaked and she wrapped her arms around herself.

God how Ava hated hearing the exhaustion in her voice. She noticed her former lover's tears falling casually as she had given up fighting them back for so long. Ava remembered that Y/N asked her to stop taking calls from Val as they were progressively getting questionable. She should have put her foot down on that deviled woman's demands when she had promised that she would. But Ava let her ego get the best of her. The brunette then saw her past self enter the room with a clenched jaw and she had wished she had the luxury to punch her face in that moment,

"Valentina said this is a crucial one and I cannot let this one pass." She dismisses Y/N off.

"After this one, it will be the last. I'll make sure Val understands that." Ava continues before approaching her lover's spot.

"Do you even know what day your mission is?" Y/N almost begged her to put the dots together, yet her question only annoyed the brunette even more.

"Thursday— what does it matter to you? Why are you making such a fuss about this?" She heard her ask her and it broke Y/N's heart.

"You damn fool." Ava comments about her past self.

She observed the way the woman shut her eyes in defeat. With fresh eyes, she realizes how beat Y/N was after she let things boil down this way. It was like her life was being sucked out of her as their relationship crumbled.

The brunette stepped close to her and focused more on her former lover's past self. Ava has never seen her slump like this before. The slight drain of contrast from her face indicated her stress and lack of proper rest. Y/N's eyes were sore from crying and she figured she'd been doing so before her old self arrived home.

The way her heart skipped as she dawned her eyes on her let Ava know that her feelings stayed a year after Y/N broke up with her and just waited for Ava to move out of their shared home. Yearning for her after their split kept her distracted from her work. Those sleepless nights where she tried to look for her body warmth that were long gone and it made things worse when her scent faded from one of her hoodies that she stole. Val took notes when she got sloppy every now and then and it took her almost twelve months to convince herself that she's grown to let their love go.

And here was Ava tearing up as she continued to watch the memory unfold.

"Oh I don't know— my promotion party? The day my boss lets me breathe after years of being a pushover!? Maybe that's what I'm making a deal out of Ava!" Y/N lets herself explode after months of holding it all together.

"You missed some of our planned dates, you barely acknowledge me when you're home and the only time you do is when the food tastes off or when I mess up our laundry." She continues as she covers her face with her hand.

"You're not even trying to hide that you're done trying for us! For god's sake Ava no matter how many times I have told you that I need you, you keep giving empty promises—"

"I have a life too!" Ava retorted.

"I'm trying my best to manage my work-life balance. My job needs me too, Y/N! Why can't you understand that?" Y/N drops her hand from her face and shakes her head in disbelief.

She couldn't believe that she was using that excuse again.

"Ava I'm not trying to attack you. I just want you to hear how I feel and to see you try for me— try for us." Y/N finally faces her, seeing her bloodshot eyes.

"I am trying, why do you not see that?" The brunette's defensiveness finally broke her.

"Stop defending yourself." Ava and Y/N's past self say in unison.

"Don't fight her please." The brunette pleaded to herself.

She wanted to look away in order to spare herself from reopening her wounds, but she would not let herself. Ava's self-awareness beat her to it,

Ava knew she needed to face her deepest regret.

"For fuck sake Ava Starr, why can't you understand that I'm not trying to attack your character!? I just want you to listen to me— comfort me!" Y/N practically begs before she loses balance on her knees and falls on the ground.

Both Ava and her past self tried to reach onto her, although her past self hesitated to catch her while the present Ava held both of her hands. She didn't realize that she could interact. Feeling her touch brought back chills that she never thought she could witness again. Y/N shakes with sobs as her grip on Ava's hands tighten. The brunette's heart continues to sting at the sight of her state.

After everything they have been through together, Ava couldn't bear that their relationship would reach this point. They had survived from The Blip, gone past grieving for their lost loved ones, and accompanied each other through their individual hardships. Y/N was right, Ava had been too complacent. The security of their relationship had her reducing her efforts. She deserved being celebrated and taken care of, but here she was crying her heart out on the kitchen floor asking for her partner to do something.

"You don't even want to hold me. Do you even want me at all?" Ava hears her cry. The brunette crouched down to match her level and couldn't find the right words to say to her.

"...I-I can't do this, Ava." Y/N whimpers in between her sobs.

"Let's take a breather, love. We'll talk about it—"

"I meant this, us." She prevented her from finishing her sentence and turned to her direction to see the disturbed look on Ava's face.

Ava watches her let go of her hands and look at her past self. The brunette could see how dumbfounded she was as she stared at Y/N.

"I'm exhausted from lying to myself that you still want us to work this out." Tears started to pool Ava's eyes as she started to catch up to what was happening.

"We can and we will. Please give me more time." Ava tries to take a hold of her hand but she flinches.

"I'm sorry but it's over, Ava. I can't take—"

A loud crash caught all their attention as the china cabinet blew into pieces when a few bodies flew out. Ava suddenly activated her helmet to suit up and unsheathe her sword to prepare herself from danger. She hides herself behind the island in order to assess her situation before striking.

"Ava are you here??" One of them sort of yelled and she recognized their voice.

"Ghost lady, it's us!"

The brunette took a peek, realizing it was Bucky and Alexie looking rugged from the crash. Both supersoldiers wore the same clothes that they had the last time Ava saw them. A sigh was heard from her as she withdrew her helm before she forcibly wiped her tears away, revealing herself to them.

"How did you guys get here?" Ava questions, putting away the sword and coming to them.

"Walker was telling the truth! I woke up in my house—"

"There's no time. Let's go and find John before he gets stuck in his room." Bucky abruptly lets her know before the Red Guardian could start rambling, rushing to the front door by breaking into it.

Ava looks back to past Y/N who stared at her. Her tearstricken face almost had her glued to her position, but she knew that this wasn't real and it was only a painful memory.

She finally held herself accountable for what happened.

"I'm so sorry, Darling... For everything." Ava voiced to her before she followed the supersoldiers to the next room.

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━☆☆☆━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

Standing in front of the porch of her previous home brought mixed emotions to Ava Starr as she noticed the obvious changes of the landscaping. A bird feeder could be seen near the willow tree filled with assorted seeds and the rose bushes had been replaced with breathtaking smooth hydrangeas. It was something Y/N had been wanting to do when they were still together but had no time to spare from her work. They were neatly planted and it brought more life to the appearance of her house as the sun slowly readies itself to set.

Ava thought the hydrangeas looked marvelous.

So much so that the bouquet of lilies she had bought with Bucky this morning in the supermarket couldn't compare and she hesitated for a second.

Part of her wanted to leave them by the doormat and never come back, but she knew to herself that being a coward would not get her anywhere. Bill didn't raise her to give up so easily. Besides, Yelena wouldn't let her back out either when she's only a few meters away in a black sedan. Even though the Russian's persistence to watch over her was annoying, she appreciated her support.

Ava had worn simpler clothes than her black combat suit. She didn't want things to be more complicated if she saw her in them and her abilities had been better. A simple grey pantsuit with a white tee shirt underneath looked good on her. Alexie and John had insisted for Ava to be more presentable although she thought their suggestion was over the top. Her thoughts ended up being a scramble whether she put on a pantsuit or just plain jeans. Bob had the idea to mix both formal and casual look. She liked his opinion and she paired it with her hair down this time than how she usually does with a low bun.

Taking a deep breath, Ava dragged her feet to the front door with nervousness accompanying each step. She awkwardly paused by the doormat and chewed her bottom lip as she felt herself hold back from reaching for the button. The hesitation from her end was frustrating and Ava hated it.

All she had to do was press the damn button so why was it so unnerving to do so?

Even Yelena who was watching from the distance groaned at her.

Before she could ring the doorbell, the front door carefully opened and revealed Y/N. Ava thought she could handle herself from seeing her again after witnessing their last memory in her Void Room, yet her heart betrays her as it beats uncontrollably. Y/N's face was unreadable by the way she bore her eyes at Ava who stiffly stood in front of her with wide eyes, like she couldn't believe she was real.

"I—" Ava made an attempt to speak and she felt her throat go dry.

Y/N's features had grown for the last sixteen months for the better. The heavy bags that used to rest on under her eyes had lessened and the colors of her face were brighter than the last time she saw her. Hair was a bit shorter, they were a bit past her shoulders. But the rest was unchanged. She had maintained her body weight and her coral blossom blouse matched with some black slacks and loafers covered her. Y/N had just gotten off work and was about to unwind. The woman's eyes still looked at her the same way.

Ava thought she was as beautiful as the day she watched her go.

"Hi Ava..." Y/N was able to bring herself to acknowledge her presence. The brunette stares into her eyes and couldn't help but feel her stomach churn. Listening to her voice brought butterflies to her stomach.

"Hi Y/N." Ava greets her with a straight lip before she slowly continues, "May I come in?"

She had anticipated for her to be rejected with a slammed door, instead she was met with the opposite. Ava watch as Y/N open the door wider for her to be welcomed,

"I've been waiting for you to make a move. You have been awkwardly standing there for almost 10 minutes. My doorcam thought you were an intruder." Ava cringes at the idea.

"Apologies. I was— trying to get myself to do it." She admits as she enters the foyer and notices how everything was almost still in place. But before she could let herself get distracted, Ava hands the lilies to her with a blush.

"For you." She shared and saw Y/N handle them with care.

"These are beautiful, Ava. Thank you. Let me just put them somewhere nice." A rare smile appears before she puts them aside.

Y/N excused herself and disappeared in the kitchen. Ava let her curiosity get the best of her and strut her way to the living room where a show was playing on the TV. A picture frame caught her attention by the console table and she approached to pick it up to see a picture of them and Dr. Foster laughing in the frame. Ava remembered it was taken in one of Bill's gatherings. He had invited the two to join him as his company and she recalls how inept she was from trying to hold a conversion with other guests. If it weren't for Y/N's instinct to take over for her, she would have embarrassed herself.

The corner of Ava's lips curve at the memory. She felt at ease knowing that she still had that frame up and placed it back to its resting spot before Y/N found her. She had removed the plastic wrap and placed the flowers in a medium sized vase with water.

"There we go, perfect." Y/N happily settles it down next to the picture.

"So, New Avengers, huh?" She starts as she faces Ava with an awkward smile. It had the brunette scratching the back of her neck at the mention of her new group.

"It's... not what you think it is. Valentina tricked us all into it and now we're stuck with the name." Ava tries to explain.

Y/N tilts her head before asking, "What do you mean?".

"Val had us all gathered to be killed whilst she tried washing the blood off her hands. As Barnes says, we were her 'most crucial evidence' to impeach her. Now she's stuck with us." She went on further and saw her nod slowly as she processed the information.

"Well, I'm happy I didn't hold you back. I'm sure Dr. Foster is proud of you."

Ava knew she meant well. Although, it aches her heart knowing that the woman felt like she held her back from her potential. She reaches for Y/N's hands and reluctantly holds them. She was almost scared that they were too delicate for her to touch. A spark of hope ignites in her when she realizes she wasn't pulling away from her just yet. Y/N lets her do what the brunette pleases and keeps her eyes on her.

A year later and those careful eyes made Ava so vulnerable.

"Y/N I—" She cuts herself off and tries to hold herself together.

"It's okay, take your time." Y/N reassures her and it was enough to crumble those walls she has put up after experiencing their last memory.

"W-What happened between us, I know I don't deserve to be welcomed here. How I treated you was unfair and cruel. I was a fool to treat you aside and let myself get carried away in my work." Ava opens to her, avoiding her anticipating look.

"I'm aware that I am way too late to apologize but for what it's worth, I am sorry for everything." She feels Y/N's touch pull away from hers.

Ava felt empty at the loss of her warmth. She was so distracted by it that she hadn't noticed the tears falling. Gentle hands made their way to her jaw and guided her view back to Y/N's concerned expression. Her eyes furrowed at the sight of Ava tearing up in front of her and she captured a tear with her thumb, caressing her cheek in the process. She had missed the woman's warmth so much that she leaned into it. Both could hear their chests pounding from how close they were to each other. Y/N joins her and silently cries at her confession.

"I have forgiven you in my heart long ago, Ava Starr." She croaked as her eyes softened. The brunette couldn't believe it in her heart. How could she just pardon her like that?

"How?" Ava let her curiosity get the best of her,

"How could you forgive me so easily after everything I put you through?" Y/N's smile was tender as she listened to her.

"You're not the only one with regrets, Ava. Yes, you were unfair to me in the end, but it doesn't define who you are and how you were throughout our relationship." Y/N admits with sorrow in her tone,

"I regret letting your nightmare come true and walking out of your life."

Ava remembers what she meant. She recalls when they were still hiding in Bill's house and she was crying to herself after her sleep was cut short. Her heart aches at the memory of them that night and she remembers the promise the woman before her made. Y/N's breathing started to come short as small hiccups accompany her sobs and it made Ava worry. She gently pulls her in her arms and comforts her, stroking her hair. The gesture had Y/N hold onto her and sob into her shirt, ruining it with her mascara. She admits that she hasn't let herself cry about them after so long while being preoccupied with her life.

"It's okay, Love, breathe." Ava coos as she lets her pour her feelings.

Calling her by their previous pet names rolled right through her tongue. Ava's voice brought shivers down her spine. Y/N could tell she kept the same scent she used all these years while she tried to relax her breathing. She remembers that she gifted that perfume to her during one of their dates.

When she is finally able to pull herself together, Y/N pulls slightly away from her and studies her features that she had missed. The moles above her left eyebrow and left cheek that were her favorite to kiss, her grey eyes that bore the same beauty the first time they met, and her lips that were plump as ever. She stares at them longer, longing to feel them against hers. Ava observed her as registered what was happening and she slowly closed the gap between them, meeting her half way to capture Y/N's lips with a soft kiss. One that they both missed after a year of separation.

It was slow, both of them savored each other's chapstick and Ava couldn't help but squeeze her hips gently. Y/N was the one to deepen the kiss as she moved her arms to her neck, using one of her hands to run them through her hair. It was Ava who pulled away from the kiss as she gasped for air. Y/N follows along while she keeps her arms in place, looking into her piercing grey eyes to get lost in them.

"I still love you, Y/N. I always have." Ava admitted,

"I thought I could let things go by letting myself wrapped up in my work, but all I ever did was lie to myself about how I felt from it all." She continues to reflect.

"If you could find it in your heart to give me another chance, I will make up for all the lost time we had. I won't let things go south this time." Y/N smiles hopefully at her assurance.

"Things will go south no matter what happens, Ava." Y/N offered solace to her.

"But what matters is how we'll get through it all, together." Y/N's words brought light to the brunette's eyes, "D-Do you mean...?"

"That I still want you? Of course I still do." She clears the confusion between her words.

"What makes you think I could move on when I still sleep in the same bed that we shared? I can't even bring myself to throw away our framed pictures in our bedroom or your old skin-tight suit in my closet." Y/N reveals as she plays with Ava's baby hair by her nape.

"I think about you every now and then, Ava. I've missed you." Her honesty had the brunette smile with her eyes. Y/N loved that smile of hers and she plants a peck at the corner of her lips,

"I've missed you too, way too much." Ava felt the weight that she carried earlier had been lifted when she let those words out.

They stayed in the moment until they noticed the sky darken from the living room window and they moved to the couch instead. The show that Y/N had left on had been forgotten while the two caught up with each other's lives. Ava had learned that Y/N was still working in the same company but her manager had been changed for the better. Bill had also visited her during her birthday and Scott had given her his book through mail with a handwritten letter asking how she's been. Y/N on the other hand had listened to Ava's stories about her team and how she and Yelena had been close as of recently. She still couldn't believe the whole 'we were sent to kill each other but we're good now' thing so she moved past it.

"So... what happens to us now?" Ava wondered as she fiddled with the woman's fingers.

"...We take things slow for now. I still need time to get used to this again before we can take the next step." Y/N answers gently.

"We can start by... having dinner! Are you staying for long?" Ava nods with a shy smile painted on her face. The woman then beams at her answer,

"Good, I hope you're patient because you're helping me pan-fry some salmon." Y/N informed her before she got off the couch to head to the kitchen. Ava doesn't realize that she meant now as she follows her behind.

When she walks past the window, Ava notices a black sedan parked in front of the house, recalling that a certain Russian was waiting for her call before she scrambled for her phone in the inner pocket of her blazer.

"Hang on, I have to call Yelena!"

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━☆☆☆━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! have a great day and feel free to send requests!

[vanilleandclove]

galapogos; michael berzatto x f!reader

your therapist deters you into describing how you came to fall in love with mikey. slowly but surely breaking your shell into understanding how you feel in the aftermath by retelling your life with the enigma that was michael berzatto. your mutual shared love for the smashing pumpkins and dad rock brings you closer than you’d like to admit.

warnings: the bar exam is offered during the last tuesday of february in chicago FOR CONTINUITY PURPOSES: it has changed to beginning of february, reader is midwestern (i'll forgive you), im mexican not italian so butchered italian-american terms of endearment, they have sex to radiohead (sorry), protected sex via birth control!!, grief— a whole lot of it. the interchanging of "michael" and "mikey" is very much intentional, posting this at 5 am!! word count: 4.6k notes: listen to galapogos by the smashing pumpkins because this is very much how i would perceive mikey & the reader — even though it’s a breakup song. the metaphorical usage of archipelagos (galapagos islands) as isolation is perfect, but it also is the connection between our familial connections & childhood being conflated to our ways of romance. it’s about evolution and adapting. 

prev - next

“Let’s start from the beginning” your therapist breathed out, sitting comfortably in their armchair. 

“The beginning?” you quirked a brow, “When we met or started dating?”.

“Whichever you prefer. Personally, I celebrate meeting my spouse as an anniversary rather than us starting the relationship, it varies”. 

“Well we met Superbowl 2014” you told them, looking into their eyes as you smiled slightly from the extremely distant memory. 

“Yo! Richie and I placing bets, y’wanna join in?” you heard an obnoxious voice next to you as you sat nursing an extremely expensive glass of scotch. “You okay sweetheart?” you heard the voice ask, in your peripheral you saw the man’s body shift towards you.

Sammy had a quaint, hole-in-the-wall, pub in southeast Chicago, he was an old friend of your father’s therefore, he protected you fiercely. 

“Aye! I don’t want either of you around angioletta, let her be, sweetie just took the Bar” Sammy scolded, pointing at the mystery guy next to you and someone behind him with his dishrag. 

“Which is?”.

“You serious? Y/n over here is gonna be a big shot lawyer dumbass, THE BAR!” Sammy emphasized both dumbfounded and proud. “Again neither of you, be damned if she ends up with a fucking Berzatto. Now Carmy is sweet, be more like Carm, Mikey”. 

“Carmy is a kid for one” the man joked, making a mockery with his voice, “Two, you her father or something?”. 

“No. He’s friends with mine” you interjected, looking towards Sammy to wave him off as he looked at the TV screen, it was the first quarter and the Seahawks were leading 8 to 0. “Who do you think is going to win?”.

“You always speak like that?”.

“Like what?”.

“Like you’re a teacher sweetie” he batted his eyelashes to mock you, “Loosen up you’re not taking ‘the Bar’ now— What’d you even score on that thing anyway?” he shrugged with his beer in hand, taking a swig before you. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged back.

“Whadda’ mean?” he furrowed his brows, missing a tackle shot that led his friend to yelp out in excitement and curse about how someone named Jimmy owes him money. 

“Illinois takes around two months to release scores, pretty big test a lot of people wanna be attorneys in Chicago in general” you educated him, “I’m not worried, I maxed out on my LSAT, and my practice exam scores were all— Fuck, I sound like a dickhead” you groaned, proceeding to down the scotch in front of him. The alcohol burned your throat before going down smoothly, this was the most you’ve drank in months; only due to a promise you made to your family as to not cloud your brain before the Bar. “So what’re you betting on with me?”.

“Denver wins 48-27” he spoke up without hesitation, “I’ll put fifty on it”.

“Hm. I raise you, Seahawks win 40-7” you betted, “I’ll put fifty-five”.

“You’re on sweetheart” he winked, his eyes telling the story of being interested in you, “I’ve never seen you around here, y’from Chicago?”.

“Yeah, born and raised” you cleared your throat as you both remained fixated on the TV, “I went to school in California for my undergrad, then UChicago for law school— you?”.

“You’re a smart woman” he stated in awe, “Didn’t go to college, went straight to work”. 

“You’re a resourceful man” you quipped, “If my parents didn’t pay for my college I would be severely down in the dumps”. 

The night continued on, one dirty martini followed by an espresso martini and then simplified lastly by a Dos Equis beer, Michael got you talking on and on about public policy and Bruno Mars. Pridefully giving you the fifty-five dollars and accepting his fate as a sore loser, he walked you home in the middle of the night— strongly reiterating to Sammy that he’d just make sure you got home safe. 

“Y’know, normally, I never let men walk me home— ever, it’s a safety hazard” you spoke up in the cold air, keeping close to Michael and his body warmth. 

“If it’s any consolation, my phone has location pinging” he breathed out, easing tension with humor, “I don’t think you’re a dickhead” he told you, the title flying past your head. 

“Thanks?”.

“Earlier, when you were talking about your TSAT-“.

“LSAT… sorry” you corrected before feeling like you shot yourself in the foot. 

“Anyways, earlier. I’m no defense attorney- law expert- whatever the fuck but it sounds fucking hard” he continued, “I know food, not juris-prejudice”. 

“Jurisprudence” you corrected yet again before, a smile crossing over your face as you made it to your apartment, “Wanna go up?”.

He looked you dead in the eye, his glassy irises telling you more than what his lips did, “Nah, another day”. 

“Another day?” you bobbed your head, smile growing bigger, “Quite presumptuous Berzatto”.

“You don’t think we’d see each other another day?”.

“Chicago’s a big city” you shrugged.

“Leave it in fate's hands then” he smiled, waving you off as he walked towards the pub, with both a smile and a way with his eyes, it’d be hard to miss him in public. 

Then you met again, in April after getting your Bar score, a shining 310. Therefore scotch was needed to celebrate with your dad as the Red and White Sox game 2 played on Sammy’s TV, the pub noticeably more crowded.

“Ay Sammy who’s this fucker in the Red Sox jersey!” your dad seeming insulted, “We’re in Chicago, leave that pansy ass shit in New England”. 

“You don’t even like the White Sox’s dad” you rolled your eyes as your dad almost picked a fight.

“They’re from Chicago, anyone from Chicago, is a brother of mine”. 

“Who’s winning?” you asked, back to the TV. 

“Whites 2-0”.

The night raged on more and more, only for your dad to realize the Red Sox dude was Mister Berzatto’s eldest son, Michael. So when a Cubs fan inserted himself into the mix, tried to square up on Mikey, your dad was quick to defend him.

“It’s just a game boys, leave it” your dad put space in between the two, “You are two of one, you from Chicago and you from Chicago, stop being a dickhead and fight for real reasons”.

“Sweetie, you want water? That’s your fifth glass of Scotch” Sammy spoke up as the Cubs fan and your father began to increasingly argue. 

You nodded to Sammy as you heard the argument get even more aggravating behind you, hearing Michael shout a string of curses and a loud smack, the body of your father colliding with your back. The act led you to whip your head around quickly in anger, the Cubs dickrider having clocked your father’s jaw unannounced, only for Michael to immediately fight back and beat him down to the ground. 

The man’s whole face was covered in blood as Michael threw punch after punch- blow after blow, only for his friend, whom you’ve come to acknowledge as Richie, to have to pull him off, knuckles bloody and jaw tight with anger.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you okay?” you cursed out, making sure your father took a seat to balance himself before attending to Michael, the blood that laid on his body was not his, therefore he did not care.

“Sonny, get this asshole outta here” Sammy told the de facto bouncer, setting aside ice for Michael, “Nice one kid but Jesus, we have cameras”.

That is when you fell in love with Michael, bloodied knuckles, prickly stubble and a buzz-cut adjacent set of hair. He wouldn’t fall in love with you until a month later, well, at least acknowledge his feelings for you. 

“You listen to The Smashing Pumpkins?” you queried after seeing the band tee Mikey donned, worn and faded— noticeably loved and used. 

“Yeah” Mikey quickly answered, watching the Red Sox game that he had to beg Sammy to put on. It was Monday night and Chicago was tiring out, preparing for summer to reach the city. He groaned as a player was struck out, “You?” he asked several minutes later. 

“They’re one of my favorites- yeah” you nodded. 

You had volunteered to help out with Sammy over the summer break you had specifically forced yourself to take as a way of having some alone time before work. Four years of undergrad, followed by three years of law school and one year for the Bar exam, you needed a break. Luckily the District Attorney’s office does rolling applications and you were confident enough to know it was a guaranteed spot as being an UChicago alumni. So Sammy seemed like the logical choice, free booze and the occasional Mikey and Richie. 

“What else do you listen to?” Mikey immediately asked afterward, removing his attention from the TV screen and back to you. 

“I'm a huge Radiohead fan, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains—“.

“You had me at Radiohead” he chuckled, “Richie and I plus some of our cousins go to shows every now and then, y’should join one day”.

“Bunch of Italian-American men at a rock concert?” you quirked your brows, “Sounds pretty intrusive but tempting”. 

When Michael realized he included you into his familial life, talked your ear off with his relationship with food, loved to brag about Natalie and Carmen, spoke about his father to you, he knew. He knew you were special, not just special but a pivotal structure he yearned for— home was rough, life was rough, seemingly crumbling. You weren’t. You were structure, strength, and integrity, a promise for a better life than what he was afforded. 

“We started dating that summer” you smiled from the memory, “I had just gotten back from my cousin’s wedding upstate, he had been waiting on my porch for a couple hours with a bouquet of poinsettias, he knew I loved them when they were in season”. 

It was the one day out of the summer where it rained down, the peak of July, yet pouring rain. Despite the near three sideswipes you almost got into, you made it to your apartment safely. Whilst swiftly grabbing your overnight bags and almost ripping your nail completely clean off from the trunk of your car, nearly slipping in a puddle that formed just shy of the gutter and drainage, you spotted Mikey. 

You squinted, wondering if you were just imagining things from the lack of sleep, “Hey” you simply spoke up, quite dumbfounded by his presence on the steps leading to your apartment.

“I uh—“ Mikey tried to begin to speak, words catching his tongue as he stuck out the bouquet, “Went to three different farmer’s markets and had to beg a florist to try— they’re fake but-“.

“You got me poinsettias?” you cut off, caught off guard by the intimacy of him trying.

“Fake poinset- yes, I got you poinsettias”.

You bit your lip as a way to try and hide your smile that instinctively grew on your face, “I don’t know Berzatto… I might just think you like me” you joked, taking the bouquet from his hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been dry, it's just the wedding, work, and-“.

“Let me make you dinner,” he proposed, breathing unevenly and shaking simultaneously. You were making Michael Berzattto nervous. The notion made you smile, biting your lip yet again to hide it. 

“Gnocchi” you replied, “We could make it together… at my place… Friday night”.

“Friday night?”.

“Friday night”. 

“Do you find yourself nostalgic about these memories often? Relying on them or avoiding them?”.

“Avoiding” you nodded, looking down at your feet, “I haven’t been able to talk to people who knew him like I did”.

“Do you know the reason or is it a bodily response?”. 

“Carmy has his smile— when he gets extremely excited, lets his teeth show, he has the smile that Mikey got from his dad. I can’t be around Nat and Pete because I miss that. I miss being with him in public and in private, with friends, with family. He is so heavily ingrained in my life”. 

“Let’s do an exercise, I do this with most patients who've lost someone they were rather intimate with” they cross their legs and fix their posture, “Where would you see your relationship in 5 to 10 years from now if this never happened?”.

“Married, maybe a kid or two, sober and somewhere on the East Coast because he wanted to move there while taking care of the Beef during the summer” you instantly told them, “Two Boston Terriers and one Pitbull, all girls because Mikey said they’re more protective”.

“Do you think the circumstances you had while in the relationship, that would be achievable?”.

“He tried, he kept trying even when it got ugly, when it got worse” you furrowed your brows, “He never stopped trying”. 

“You reiterated Michael had never left drugs at your home and self-medicated, where would he seek solace for his addiction?”.

“The Beef,” you confessed, sighing lightly, “He’d keep them in his desk, he said since they were out of sight it made him stop from using as much”. 

“What happened to them?”.

“Richie threw all of it out,” you told her. 

“Tell me about the Michael no one else knew, not the addict or someone’s best friend— him as an intimate partner”. 

Michael was a pleaser when it came to you. Cooked you dinner without fail, when he was sick, when he was stressed, even the night he passed. Combed through your hair after you showered, would shampoo and condition it when you took showers together. He’d massage your lower abdomen when you were cramping, made soup when you were sick, kissed your forehead before going to sleep no matter the day or time. He was a pleaser, in all forms of the word.

“I just don’t think that changes anything— mom is still going to be mom” it was Christmas, 2019, the Christmas that Donna accepted you as a constant in Mikey’s nonlinear life. “Where’s Y/n?”.

“She got swamped at work, got stuck interviewing” Mikey breathed out to his sister as they stood inside, “Where’s Carm?”.

“He went out to run some errands for mom— last minute Christmas presents probably” Natalie theorized, “Must suck, you’d think lawyers would have the day off”.

“Mikey, is Sarah coming?” Donna asked, red wine attached to her hand. 

Michael could only sigh and walk back into the house, “It’s Y/n ma, I haven’t dated Sarah since high school”. 

“Beats me, I loved Sarah”.

“Yeah you’ve loved anyone but Y/n”. 

“Can you blame her? She makes more money than you” Lee put in his two cents.

“I’m sorry? Was anyone fucking talking to you?” Mikey got annoyed, Lee and Donna were fighting again— already on the verge of their fifth break up. 

As if the universe had spoken, you had emerged, knocking on the front door, seemingly freezing from the snow. The knit red sweater dress hugged your body in ways that Mikey could only gulp as his mouth went dry upon seeing you, your coat being held into your arms as your hands carried the box of pastries you had picked up before heading over. 

Instinctively, Mikey opened the door, immediately walking out to seek some alone time with you, even with the cold air biting your skin, making your nose slightly leak from the frost.

“Hey— Sorry I’m late, there was way too much traffic downtown” you breathed, smiling from seeing the man in front of you, “You would not believe the day I had, six fucking cocaine charges from teenagers! Why can’t people just do weed like normal people?”.

“Thank god you’re here” Mikey sighed of relief, the worry and stress lines seemingly diminishing from his face, he could breathe again.

“C’mon it couldn’t be that bad” you eased, opening the box of pastries, “A bunch of chocolate puff pastries for my man… chocolate tart for Carmy, eclairs for Nat, a couple of crepes for Lee and your mother”. 

“You really know how to make me want to fu—“.

“Carmy, I got you chocolate tarts” you interrupted, looking over at the boy as he parked his mom’s car. 

“Lee and mom are fighting by the way, just— let mom deal with it, please? I don’t wanna have to talk to the fucker about respect today”. 

“Ight, when’s Richie coming?” Carmy shrugged, grocery bags in hand.

“In two hours probably, why?” Mikey answered, his arm instinctively wrapping your lower waist.

“So you don’t have to tell the fucker about respect” Carmy quipped before going into the house.

Hearing the door shut behind him, Mikey wasted no time to give your lips a kiss laced in fervidity. His hand found a light purchase on your neck, not pressing down, but holding your head in a position to not leave, sending waves of electricity throughout your nerves. 

“We have to go inside” you whispered as you pulled your lips painfully from his. Small pecks followed as you both tore yourselves apart from ravaging each other in the front yard. Mikey’s lips found themself on the pulse point of your neck, lightly suckling just before your hand pushed him off smoothly, “It’s Christmas baby, family time”. 

“Whatever” he groaned, kissing the base of your forehead before leading the way inside. 

“Ah, your escort’s here!” Lee joked, catching the attention of Michelle, Donna’s sisters and their kids she invited over, Carmen and Natalie— the loud Italian home now rang quiet.

Your blood began to boil, just as much as you figured Mikey’s was, his jaw tense and teeth beginning to grind against each other. Lee has made his fair few jokes catered as a dig to Michael, which Michael would undoubtedly have the sense to shrug off, but you? The woman who showed and gave him nothing but respect despite it all, that let him talk more words than the Berzatto’s would allow, the woman that is standing in front of him with pastries in hand on Christmas. 

“You motherfucking son of a bi-“ Michael began, his grip on your immediately leaving once the words lingered in the air. 

“Lee, can I have a word with you— outside?” you smiled, your head tilting with curiosity as your eyes bore holes into his soul, he was on complete display, “Baby take the desserts to your mom please, I’ll be right back” you handed the box to Mikey who was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of your stare. 

Back outside, you met with the likeness— dislikeness— of Lee. “I just saved you from getting your brain caved into your skull, a thank you would be appreciated” you joked, basking in the silence that ensued after. “You know, with being with Michael and all, I know he cares about what his family thinks. Even if they don’t dictate his life, I know Donna’s opinion holds more weight than I could even put money on” you let the cold air and wind occupy space in the silence you let him think in, “I also know Michael’s opinions of you are not great— neither are Carmy’s or Nat’s. But that shit you just pulled? Demeaning me in front of a family that at most tolerates you because Donna cares for you meanwhile you’re just some good-for-nothing prick with a superiority complex? You have balls so far up your ass I can’t even begin to describe how much that must make your ass sore” you joked, humiliating the man. Scoffing before turning on your heels and leaving him in the cold.

“He’s gonna drag you out of his life like he does the rest of them” Lee spoke up, voice stern and stagnant. 

You could only scoff again, your breath shaky from the cold, “You think you know him when you don’t. You don’t know jack shit about him, or Carmy- or Nat” you objected, “Merry Christmas, you fucking asshole”. 

“I’m telling you this now, your relationship is not gonna end where you’re walking down the aisle in a white dress— hell he might even baby trap you before you make it to engagement” he snarky added, “Tell Donna she can call me tomorrow”. 

You made your way inside, beelining straight to the kitchen where Michael stood there tense as Donna cooked, his foot tapping rabidly just before you eased his worried with caressing his flexed arms. 

“Where’d Lee go?” Donna exasperated as she wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead.

“Fucking pri-“.

“He said you can call him tomorrow, h’just left” you told her, gripping Mikey’s bicep in order to shut him up.

“Fucking asshole” Donna breathed out, “Y/n you’re drinking with me tonight” she declared, that is when you knew Donna accepted you as part of the family. 

Michael was a pleaser, on all accounts. 

“Baby, can we please change the song?” you tight lippedly moaned as Mikey found himself holding you down by your thighs as his tongue circled your clit. Your clit vehemently ignored your pleas of changing the song to something more sensual at least. 

All I Need by Radiohead was the song that got you through breakups and filled you with dread and oddly, a newfound sense of excitement as the piano riff played, but now you’re on the brink of an orgasm to it. 

The strings of curses leaving your mouth upon instinct as Mikey didn’t let up, his arms holding you down as your eyes and head lulled back, your hands clenching and unclenching from the sheer ecstasy the man gave you. Your stomach rolled, Mikey’s fingers finding the way to toyed with the bud as he held you down and controlled your bottom half. 

“Baby stop” you regretfully moaned as you almost cummed, to your surprise in the middle of the piano riff of the song. Mikey’s arms loosened and he stood there sitting as your pussy pulsed, red, and throbbing— you stood up as well, sitting tilted up as your nether regions decided to make you a villain as you stopped the pure magic Mikey was performing with his tongue. “I just—“ your voice faltered and hitched, you were crying?

“Hey baby girl?” he soothed his voice, immediately wrapping his arms around you, “What’s wrong?”, he kissed the top of your head.

“Cum in me” you whispered, smacking yourself in your head as you wondered if the pleasure is what was making you emotional, “I wanna feel it”. 

“Baby that’s risky” you knew the risks, you also knew you were always on time for your pill every single day and even made a habit to carry with you everywhere you went, “Are you sure?”.

“Please baby?” you pleaded, sniffling lightly.

Michael was a giver, a pleaser, by all accounts, he could never deny you. Need it be your nails digging in his back as he groaned, the way your legs recoiled each thrust- he had his own selfish reasons- but the look you gave him whilst pleasing you, that was the biggest one of all. The twinkle in your eye as they welled with tears from the way the man made sex feel like an art form— the way you knew he was all yours. His cum seeping out of you nevertheless he still picked you up and showered you alongside him, despite the sensitive nature of you, you wanted more, and more. 

As the night winded down, Michael stood holding you securely, watching Criminal Minds as it played on the TV, your feet caressing his calves as his hands caressed the curvature of your hips— sensually but not teetering upon the guise of going another round. 

“So no sex to Radiohead?” Mikey posed the question, both as a joke and genuine curiosity. 

“As much as I loved that— fuck no” you giggled lightly, moving your head to face him and kiss his lips, “R&B is a very popular genre you know” you proposed.

He smiled before kissing your lips once more, “Whatever you want baby”. 

“I miss him” you breathed, the inhale rattling in your chest, “I miss him. People keep asking if they can talk about him to me like he’s some taboo subject— I want to remember all I can of him” your chest ached, “One day I’m going to wake up and forget his scent— I read somewhere that you forget specifics first. Then it’s the sayings and-“ your breath hitched as your body began to give up, it felt like jolts of anguish. “Personality and sayings stick”. 

“What are you most afraid of forgetting?”.

“His voice” you began to sob, coughing out months of pain and resentment towards him leaving, “There are days that I can’t even— all I have is a fucking voicemail!” you wailed, “Why did he have to go? Why would he just leave huh? To the fucking bridge— I could’ve stopped him!” your voice rang and bounced off the sterile walls, throat hurting and feeling constricted. 

“Y/n, you said it yourself— he was sick, he never got help—“.

“I was there!” you broke down, “How could I not know? We shared a bed together, I kissed him every morning and night- every chance I got. I lived and breathed him… how could I let him—“.

“You will not blame yourself over something you lacked control over” a stern voice came through your therapist, “People suffer silent battles internally for years and ages, not everyone can have or be willing to have a second sense to acknowledge it. You were his lover— a near wife of his, not a healthcare provider or therapist,”.

Your bottom lip quivered as a shiver ran down your spine. Whenever you were stressed you swore you could feel him. Feel his fingers tantalizing cascade down your spine, easing your worries. You could imagine him sitting next to you, trying to hold you together and to prevent you from shattering. Your jaw tensed and it felt like your teeth were going to crack against each other. 

“Why?”. 

Why did he stay true to his promise and not write you a goodbye, an explanation? Did he feel you were not owed one? That you’d be okay? Returning back to the apartment that didn’t have a soul, didn’t have him, you could only drop to your knees against the floorboards. The guttural and wrathful sobs and screams that left your body almost made your neighbors want to call for a welfare check. Mustering up enough strength to grab your phone from your pocket.  “Can you come over, please?” you spoke against your phone.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[shewrites02]

Trying to love Suguru in the midst of his mental health crisis. Post Riko , but Pre leaving Jutjutsu High.

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Word count: 680

Leave a comment if you enjoy :) feel free to reblog!

“Princess…” Your boyfriend sings your name is sweeter than sugar, but all you can hear is the condescending tone seething from his lips. “I told you I would do it sweetheart. I didn’t know that meant right now.” 

Deciding the dig not worthy of an answer, you focus your attention back to the task at hand. Geto stops at the archway of your shared apartment to watch you assemble your vanity that just came in. There’s an amused smirk amongst his otherwise agitated features as he watches you fiddle with the nuts and bolts.

Typically you would’ve accepted Suguru's promise with a curt nod and sweet smile. Sure he meant his words. Not today. 

Today his words made your skin crawl. A symptom of being spewed one too many empty promises. Promises you were supposed to believe just because he said so. 

“It’s fine Suguru. You’re tired and I'm sick of just looking at the box. I’d like to actually use the present you got me.” 

Your words come out in a huffled pout as you attempt to separate the different wooden pieces. It was becoming quite evident that you underestimated the task, but there was no way you were ever going to give suguru the satisfaction of hearing you say it. 

“Then let me finish gift-ing it to you.” With a roll of his eyes , Suguru has now intervened to stop you from trying to mash together the wrong two pieces for the third time. “Baby, please.” 

Once the wood is out of your hands, the sorcerer is quick to remove all the tools in the vicinity. Messily stacking them back into the tool box you’ve dug from under the sink. When he is done, Suguru joins you on the floor , sitting across from you with his legs crossed then reaches for your hands. 

“Am I not paying you enough attention sweetheart?” His hand reached to cup your cheek, and similar to a sigh, slow but eager,  your eyes met his. ” Is that what this is?”

Silence fills the space between the two of you while you search for the patronizing intonation in his voice. You only find genuine concern. His eyes don’t squint in disgust but confusion. For the first time in a while the Suguru sitting in front of you is a glimpse of the one you fell in love with. 

“I- I miss you suguru. You’re slipping through my fingers. You think I don't feel it but I do.” 

The sorcerer looks as though he is searching for what can assuage your heart. A telling look in his eyes that he does not want to agree, but he does not want to lie either. 

This distance you feel. This man in your home that wasn’t him- you both felt it. Neither quite sure what to make of this stranger cutting his hands on the broken shards of memories and nightmares stored here. 

At first school was the only place that felt suffocating. You attributed it to the sorrow this career demanded. When each training was a constant remembrance of what you lost, and each mission a reminder of what’s left to lose- how do you heal? To feel and move forward? 

Soon home felt suffocating too .Where else could grief hide other than between you and Suguru? Like the two of you could no longer lie in bed without this existential dread sleeping between you. Forced to acquaint yourself with this draining misery the more it sat at your dining room table. Where else could all this despair live besides this home? Where it belongs, where it's comfortable.  

Eventually there was no escape from the sadness.

“I know you're tired, Suguru. I don’t mean to say it like it’s not true.” There’s a softness in his eyes, something you pray is kin to relief. “I just need more of you.” 

What you hoped was a pause turns into lingering silence. Suguru’s eyes have landed on the coffee table you pushed aside in your determined tantrum. The relief you hope settled on his features has morphed into something more painful.  

“I’m giving you everything baby.”

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[to-the-stars8]

Affairs and Letters

Jason Todd x Reader Regency AU! AO3 Chapters

XX

You stared down at the bundle of returned letters resting in your lap, your breath caught somewhere between grief and humiliation. The handwriting was unmistakably yours, the seal cracked, yet untouched within. Each one a desperate plea imploring Mr. Todd to keep his promise, to remember what had passed between you, to love you still despite your disgrace.

They had come back to you unopened.

That was answer enough.

You scarcely had the strength to lift your head when Mr. Harper entered the room.

“By the stars, dearest Miss, whatever has happened?” he exclaimed, his voice booming with alarm.

Quickly, you turned away and dabbed at your eyes with your handkerchief. “Pray, sir, do not trouble yourself on my account.”

But Mr. Harper had crossed the room and lowered himself into the armchair opposite yours, his brows knit in anxious concern. Truly, you were indebted to his kindness and wished you had a fortune to repay him. “Come now,” he said gently. “If there is some distress I may relieve, only say so. You have done much for my business already. I would be most ungrateful to ignore your suffering.”

You glanced at the letters resting in your lap. Their presence alone made your cheeks flush with fresh humiliation.

“Have your troubles to do with those letters?” He asked as he nodded to the letters in your lap. There was an amused smile on his face. “Tell me, Miss, and I will go to the postman to give him a good tongue lashing.”

You felt yourself able to laugh at such a small gesture of absurd kindness, and Mr. Harper remarked on how happy he was to see such a smile grace your face again. Finally, you felt well enough to convey your emotions. 

“I do not wish for you to think any differently of me, Mr. Harper.”

Mr. Harper reached across the small table between you and placed a consoling hand upon yours. “I will not. I cannot, in any case.”

You wished to disagree and protest that he could. Though, as you thought of Lian, a baseborn girl born to a baseborn father, you thought him right. “I had a beau in my old village, and—though I know it is wrong—have written to him. He promised me that he would write, but he has not. The letters have been returned to me today. Therefore, I cannot help but come to the conclusion that he no longer feels for me.”

Mr. Harper squeezed your hand gently. “Then he is a greater fool than even I imagined. And he has lost something far more valuable than he knows.”

“I fear I shall not forget him,” you murmured.

“Give it time,” he said. “In a few years, you will scarcely recall his name.”

You doubted it deeply, but nodded with as much grace as you could muster. Mr. Harper, appearing satisfied that he had offered comfort, stood and announced that he would fetch Lian from her lessons. He left you with one last smile and a kind word. But as the door closed behind him, the quiet in the room grew incredibly.

The letters remained on your lap like stones, heavy and unrelenting. You stared at them for a long while, torn between heartbreak and the remnants of dignity. At last, you stood, smoothing your skirts with one hand, the offending bundle clutched in the other. You approached the hearth, its flames burning low but steady. With a breath that trembled, you let the letters fall into the fire.

They caught at once—crackling, curling, blackening into ash. And as they burned, you whispered, barely aloud, “I will forget you, Mr. Todd.”

But in your heart, the truth lingered like the smoke in the fireplace.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jason had not laid eyes upon his brother in several days and was just preparing to go after him again when Richard appeared at last. He stepped into the drawing room with a disheveled elegance and an expression of strange satisfaction. There was a lightness in his movements, a contentedness about his smile.

“She accepted,” Richard said, dropping into the nearest chair with a sigh. “After all that, she accepted.”

Jason barely blinked. “Miss Anders?”

Richard nodded. “Indeed. Once I explained the misunderstanding with Miss Gordon, she relented. I think she still loves me. I rather suspect she always did.”

Jason turned away to hide his unease. “I am glad, truly.”

He made no attempt to conceal the irritation in his voice as he reached for his coat. “Now that your affairs are in order, I intend to return to the countryside this afternoon. I have been away too long.”

Richard, unbothered, ran a hand through his hair. “I think I shall remain. Kori is more at ease in the city, and I cannot see why we must subject her to those with less generous sensibilities.”

Jason was preparing a sharp retort when a knock came at the door. His brother was becoming insufferable, and reveled in the relief of someone of character. His annoynce would have been totally cured if it was you coming through the door to bother him.

“Enter,” he said. His valet stepped inside, letter in hand. “Thank you. That will be all.” The man left without another word, and Jason was forced to put up with his brother alone once more.

“What is it?” Mr. Grayson said, sitting straighter in his seat so he could get a better view. 

Mr. Todd was already breaking the seal as he answered, “A letter from father, perhaps asking when we are to return. I sent him a letter some days ago informing him that we would be returning within the week. So, I suggest you hold off on your plans.”

Opening the letter, Jason began to read.

My dearest boy,

I must inform you that I am now aware of your affection for the young woman formerly employed by the Kents.

Sir Kent assures me her departure was mutual, though I suspect he softens the truth. Truths perhaps you can enlighten me of. The boy, he claims, had grown beyond the need for a governess. She has accepted a new position in another county, though I do not know where exactly.

I trust this news finds you well, and I urge you to take whatever time you require to come to terms with it.

With affection,

—B. Wayne

Mr. Todd sank onto a chair near him, his knees unable to bear his weight suddenly. Mr. Grayson noticed the tension in his brother, and hurriedly asked what was the matter. Mr. Todd did not answer, prompting his brother to grab the letter from his hand. After reading it, the room fell into a long, sullen silence. 

At last, Jason spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I had promised her… I told her I would return.” His throat tightened. “I meant to—truly, I did. I had planned—” But the words refused to come. "Why did she not write to me?"

After some time, Mr. Grayson decided to speak.  “Brother, I must confess, I believe this may be my doing.”

[achromatophoric]

Taking a Break

Serious talk time. Apologies in advance. I have a question that I hope can be asked and answered without any vitriol. I understand that everyone has their own comfort level concerning written content, and I deeply dislike causing people grief of any sort.

For the first time, I was presented with criticism (that weren’t just Asks from bigoted trolls) concerning writing shorts with sexual humor involving two 16-year-olds (Wednesday and Enid), with the idea that an adult writing that content makes that individual problematic.

It’s understandably a very sensitive subject, and it was enough to have me banned from a server I occasionally posted on for content written in this blog. That’s understandable, because the comfort and safety of a server’s members is always important.

I wasn’t offended, and it was even a welcome distraction during a funeral, but it did leave me with a question:

Should I stop writing these?

I’m a big fan of teen sex comedies like Bottoms, American Pie, and But I’m a Cheerleader, particularly since they allow me to experience what I missed out on due to a religious upbringing. I’m also terminally unable to take sex seriously, which could be related to my demisexuality. Needless to say, I haven’t taken my posts very seriously.

I’ve been presumptuous in what I’ve been writing. I don’t have the attention span for longer form, so I always imagined what I write as scenes that could slip into the general gestalt Wenclair headcanon, letting the readers fill in the blanks. Brief, but not hopefully not entirely meaningless.

I knew what I was writing was bereft of plot and heavy on absurdity, but I didn’t realize that by lacking plot for the humor to move forward, it could be taken as sexualizing minors purely for the sake of sexualizing minors. That was so far from my intentions that I’m just disappointed with myself.

I’ve always felt that fanfics (and fanshipping in general) was intended as a safe space to write/share interests that other people would ridicule them for. Just people being their nerdiest and protecting each other from predatory or malicious behavior. So if my writing has ever seemed predatory or malicious, I am deeply sorry.

This fandom is honestly awesome. I’ve never been a part of one before, and it’s given me a much appreciated creative outlet when I’ve had to give most of mine up for various lifestyle/health reasons. So if it’s better for the Tumblr community that I just stop, I’ll be sad to do so, but I’ll understand.

I’ll take the poll results into consideration. That said, even if #7 wins out, I’m not sure how it will go. While I do adore the fandom, I don’t communicate very actively with others in it, so I have no real perspective of how my writing is perceived. Knowing that the things I write are actively making people uncomfortable enough to act on it is… just a lot.

[icwasher]

Okay, but imagine a BBC Merlin time travel AU where both Merlin and Arthur get sent back, but neither one of them knows that the other one got sent back so they're both trying to change things while also not arousing suspicions. And, in true BBC Merlin fashion, they don't find out for the longest time. And I think they would get sent back at, like, the beginning of season two, that way Merlin and Arthur's dynamic is already established, meaning both of them don't want to do anything to change that and arouse the other's suspicions.

And you would think that one of them would notice, but every time Merlin does something suspicious/different, Arthur just thinks, "Oh, he's probably doing a magic thing that I didn't catch last time." And whenever Arthur does something different/suspicious, Merlin's just like, "Ah, my actions are having a butterfly effect. Good."

You've got two people trying to keep Morgana from turning evil. Arthur is telling her that things will be different when he's King, while Merlin is trying to relate to her more. Arthur automatically knows who to trust and who not to trust, and when Merlin points those things out, he actually listens. Arthur is always in the know. Uther has no idea what's going on. Merlin is out here doing ALL THE THINGS with his magic, and Arthur doesn't even notice. And neither of them can tell when the other is lying because both of them are such idiots. Somehow, Arthur ends up in mortal danger just as often as he did last time.

But it's not just silly-goofy-fun-and-games. There is so much angst. The whole time, Merlin is missing his Arthur, the one who died, and he thinks that he's never going to have that Arthur again. Plus, he knows this time that, if he fails, Arthur will die, and so there's a whole other level of pressure there.

Arthur, on the other hand, doesn't want to put Merlin through all of the trauma that he faced before. He feels responsible for making Merlin feel unable to share his secrets with him, and also knows that he will be causing Merlin unimaginable grief if he fails, which he does not want to do. Again.

But the whole thing is mostly hijinks. Because the show is mostly hijinks.