#their hearts call out for each other… not knowing it’s temporary… a soul will eventually wander the earth alone looking for its other half

[rosaacicularis]

I just finished all they have of coliseum yesterday... 😂 IT KILLED ME, BUT IT'S REALLY GOOD-

Also Rose, you're breaking me with the immortal au 😭🤩

-🍂

i am breaking myself too…. they just and i…. and they…. and then one of them has to live without the other…. and one of them had to die without the other….. and and and :((( </3

[perfectsunlight]

[𝟎𝟔] 𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

“do you really have to go?” 

yujin whispered in the dark, caressing your face as you faced her in bed. it was the end of may, and graduation was just around the corner for the older girl.

as you felt her touch on your face, you couldn’t help but sigh softly. you’d be missing your girlfriend’s graduation because of a few college tours your parents wanted you to attend. not only that, you’d be gone for the entire summer because of a producer internship you got on the other side of the country.

you intertwined your fingers with hers, desperately trying to convey your love and regret. "i wish i could be there, baby," you murmured, your voice laced with genuine sorrow. "but my parents see this as a crucial step towards my future."

her midnight eyes glistened with unshed tears, her grip on your hand tightening. "i understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "but it doesn't make it any easier."

you could feel the weight of her disappointment, the ache of separation mingling with the uncertainty of what the future held for both of you. graduation symbolized the end of an era, the culmination of years of hard work and shared experiences, and the thought of missing it tore at your soul.

leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to yujin's forehead, silently conveying your love and support. "i promise, yujin, i will make it up to you," you vowed, your voice filled with determination. "we'll celebrate your achievements in our own special way."

yujin's eyes met yours, a mixture of longing and understanding reflecting in her gaze. in that moment, you both found some solace in the unspoken promise that you’d celebrate together when you got back.

however, ahn yujin found out in those short weeks that followed that she was not made for long distance relationships. 

the constant pang of missing you, the uncertainty of not knowing when you would return, and the fear of growing apart weighed heavily on yujin's heart. as much as she wanted to be supportive and understanding, the strain began to show in her demeanor. conversations turned bittersweet, laughter was tinged with sadness, and the once effortless connection between you two started to feel forced.

yujin tried her best to keep busy with graduation preparations and spending time with friends, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of emptiness without you by her side.

the absence of your presence in her life left a void that seemed impossible to fill. she missed the spontaneous moments, the late-night talks, and the simple pleasure she felt of you being in her presence.

as for you, the college tours were enlightening, and you were excited about the possibilities that lay ahead. but a part of you couldn't help but feel guilty for not being there for your girlfriend during such an important time in her life. you called and texted regularly, trying to be there for her despite the distance, but it wasn't the same.

one evening, during a tearful video call, your girlfriend finally expressed her feelings. "i don't want to say it," she said, her voice trembling. "but i can't pretend that everything is okay when it's not. i miss you so much, and it feels like we're drifting apart."

tears welled up in your eyes too, as you felt the weight of her words. "i miss you too," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "i wish there was a way to make this easier."

the strain in the relationship became a painful reality that both of you couldn't ignore. you had always been each other's support system, but the distance was testing the foundation of your bond. as the days turned into weeks, the situation only became more difficult.

eventually, a heart-to-heart conversation led to a difficult decision. yujin bravely suggested taking a break, a temporary time apart, to figure out what you both truly wanted. it was one of the hardest conversations you'd ever had, but deep down, you knew she was right. both of you needed space to assess your feelings and priorities.

the break was meant to be a chance to gain clarity, but it only intensified the ache in your hearts. 

yujin attended her friend’s graduation parties, doing her best to rid herself of the thoughts of you. during her friends' parties, she tried her best to put on a brave face and be genuinely happy for them, but her mind kept drifting back to you. seeing couples celebrating together only reminded her of what she was missing – you.

each event felt like a struggle, and she often found herself excusing herself early from most of them. she didn't want to bring down the mood or burden her friends with her emotional turmoil. instead, she sought solace in quiet moments alone, reflecting on the love she had for you and wondering if it was enough to sustain the distance.

her feet kicked at the broken cobblestone on the ground beneath her as she walked with her hands in her pockets. the night air was crisp and a gentle breeze flowed behind her. she would have driven home, but her bike was in the shop after she hit a curb last week because she was too distracted.

yujin’s mind wandered to what you were doing right now. she hadn’t spoken to you in a while, that was part of the agreement of the break. space was something the two of you needed desperately. 

the sound of tires brought her out of her thoughts. she looked behind her, seeing a pair of headlights slowly approaching her. a 1966 mustang convertible pulled to her side, white and well kept for its dated age. behind the steering wheel were big round eyes, a cute nose, and a captivating smile.

“yujin? you’re walking home? it’s late.” wonyoung’s voice called out, confusion on her face as she saw the older girl walking home. yujin recognized the girl from a few of her classes, the junior was only a grade below her. 

yujin forced a smile, appreciating the concern in wonyoung's voice. "oh, hey wonyoung. yeah, my bike's in the shop, so i thought i'd walk home. it's not too far."

the other girl’s eyes filled with concern, worried for her senior. "are you sure? i can drive you home.”

yujin took a moment to consider wonyoung's offer, realizing that her company might be a welcome distraction from her lingering thoughts of you. she mustered a genuine smile this time and replied, "actually, that would be really nice. thanks."

“get in the car.” wonyoung beamed, happy that the other girl accepted. she unlocked the passenger door as yujin got in. the interior of the vintage convertible exuded a nostalgic charm, and as they drove, yujin found herself enjoying the ride and the conversation with the junior girl. 

despite her initial reservations, the girl appreciated wonyoung's friendly and caring nature. there was something calming about the presence of the other girl.

as they approached yujin's house, she felt a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a while. the heaviness in her heart seemed to lighten, if only temporarily. before she stepped out of the car, the older girl turned to wonyoung with a soft smile.

"you know, maybe we can hang out again sometime," yujin said, surprising herself with the genuine invitation. her eyes met the junior’s in the dark night, a smile on her lips as she scanned her face for a response.

the younger girl’s face lit up with a small smile. "sure. just let me know whenever you're free."

as yujin stepped out of the car and onto the pavement, she thanked wonyoung once again for the ride. the night air was still crisp, but now, there was a sense of contentment in her steps. she watched as the vintage mustang drove away, the tail lights glowing like dim stars in the dark distance.

entering her home, the girl couldn't help but think about the unexpected encounter she had just experienced. wonyoung's company had been a refreshing change of pace, and she realized that reaching out to others, even if it was just in a friendly context, was essential for healing.

maybe, just maybe, wonyoung could help her find some clarity during the break.

in the following days, yujin and wonyoung started spending more time together. they went for coffee, explored the mall, and shared meals at the beach. yujin found herself laughing more often, and the burden of her lingering thoughts about you seemed to lessen with each passing day.

yujin’s days were no longer filled with missing you, but rather filled with content. wonyoung was everything she needed right now.

the older girl never mentioned you ever. she didn’t feel the need to do so, anyway. until wonyoung brought you up, herself.

“are you still with y/n?”

the summer of that mid july smelled of salt air and citrus. yujin swallowed the bite of an orange slice she had peeled, the other girl’s words hitting her brain finally.

the brunette felt a mix of surprise and vulnerability at wonyoung's question. it was the first time the subject of you had been brought up between them, and she wasn't sure how to respond. a moment of hesitation hung in the air before she finally spoke, her voice soft and sincere.

"no, we're not together anymore," she replied, her gaze briefly falling to the ground before she looked out onto the ocean, watching the waves meet the shore. 

the younger girl looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "i'm sorry if it's a sensitive topic. you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

yujin’s midnight eyes wandered to wonyoung’s lips before moving back to her gaze, a small smile forming in the process. “i’d rather talk about you.” 

wonyoung blushed slightly at yujin's comment, a shy smile gracing her lips. "me? what do you want to know?"

yujin's smile widened, appreciating the opportunity to focus on the present and the wonderful person sitting beside her. "tell me about your dreams, wony. what do you want to do?"

the younger girl's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she shared her aspirations. she spoke about her passion for singing, her desire to touch people's hearts through her music, and her determination to overcome any challenges that came her way. it was evident that wonyoung had a fire within her, a drive to pursue her dreams with unwavering dedication.

it almost reminded her of you, in a way.

as yujin listened to her speak, she couldn't help but admire the younger girl's strength and determination. her own heart swelled with pride for wonyoung, and she found herself feeling lucky to be a part of this journey, supporting her in any way she could.

"and what about you?" wonyoung asked, her eyes filled with genuine interest. "what are your dreams?"

yujin's smile softened, and she shared her own dreams with wonyoung. she spoke about her love for photography and her ambition to pursue acting. she also talked about her longing to make a positive impact on people's lives through her art, hoping to tell stories that could inspire and uplift others.

they spent the rest of the day by the beach, talking about their dreams and fears, their likes and dislikes, and everything in between. the more they shared, the deeper their connection grew.

as the sun began to set, the two found themselves lying on the sand, side by side, watching the sky's colorful display. the hues of pink, orange, and purple painted the horizon, creating a breathtaking backdrop for the budding romance between them.

with a soft smile, yujin turned her head to look at wonyoung, her heart feeling full. the thought of you was no longer occupied in her mind, and it hadn’t been at the forefront for a while now.

 “wonyoung, i'm so glad you came into my life.”

the junior girl’s eyes met hers, her cheeks dusted with a rosy blush that mirrored the rosy sky. "i feel the same way, yujin. you've become so important to me, and i can't imagine my life without you."

in that moment, yujin knew that wonyoung was everything she wanted, even if she wasn’t everything she needed.

their eyes locked, and there was a mutual understanding and a certain tenderness that hadn't been there before. wonyoung's presence had not only helped yujin find comfor but also awakened something new within her—a possibility for love with someone that wasn’t you.

this was just a break with you, but that technically meant you were not together. at least, that’s how she saw it. yujin technically wouldn’t be cheating on you if she did this. she would just be happy, and you wanted her to be happy.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, yujin felt her heart beating faster. the soft glow of the twilight seemed to enhance wonyoung's features, making her even more captivating. the younger girl was beautiful, with her milky skin and soft features that the older girl would do anything to touch and hold forever.

without fully realizing it, her hand moved closer to wonyoung's, and the younger girl didn't pull away. her hand felt soft, and yujin could almost smell the hints of the oranges from earlier on her fingertips.

"wonyoung," yujin whispered, her voice filled with vulnerability, "there's something i need to tell you."

wonyoung turned to her, her gaze soft and encouraging. "you can tell me anything, yujin."

taking a deep breath, yujin let her feelings pour out. “i think i'm falling in love with you."

a gentle smile spread across wonyoung's face, and she reached for yujin's hand, intertwining their fingers. "are you sure?" she whispered, the faint ocean breeze passing between the space between.

yujin nodded, her heart pounding in her chest and echoing in her ears. "i've never been more sure of anything in my life," she confessed. "i feel better about things when i’m with you."

wonyoung's smile grew, and her eyes shimmered with joy. "yujin, you have no idea how happy that makes me. i've been falling for you too, but i wasn't sure if you felt the same way."

yujin and wonyoung leaned in, their lips meeting in a gentle and tender kiss—a moment that felt like the start of something beautiful, but also the start of the destruction of something you and yujin never truly ended.

but right now ahn yujin didn’t care about the future, or you, for that matter.

all that currently mattered was the way wonyoung’s lips tasted like the oranges they’d been sharing and the way her perfume smelled like the flowers her mother would leave in the kitchen every spring morning.

all that mattered was that someone was here. wonyoung was here.

time seemed to stand still. the kiss held all the tenderness and passion that had been building between them, and it felt like an explosion of emotions—a surge of desire that set their hearts on fire. 

as their lips danced, a current of electricity surged through them, igniting a spark that sent shivers down their spines. yujin's hand instinctively moved to cup wonyoung's cheek, pulling her closer as they deepened the kiss. their breaths mingled, and the taste of oranges was now an intoxicating blend of citrus and the essence of each other.

every nerve in yujin's body seemed to come alive, and she lost herself in the sensation of wonyoung's lips against hers. the world around them faded into the background, and all that mattered was this moment—their hearts beating as one, their souls intertwining in a dance of affection.

wonyoung's fingers found their way into yujin's hair, gently caressing her scalp, sending a rush of tingling pleasure through her body. the warmth of the summer night paled in comparison to the heat that radiated between them, fueling the intensity of their kiss.

their bodies pressed against each other, almost a perfect fit, as if they were just two halves of a whole. 

wonyoung's touch was gentle and reassuring, and yujin couldn't help but let herself be carried away by the warmth of the moment. they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath, their eyes locked in an intimate gaze.

the younger girl smiled, her eyes filled with adoration. "you have no idea how much i've wanted to kiss you," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.

yujin's heart fluttered at the confession, feeling a sense of belonging that she had not experienced in a long time. "right back at ya," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

they stayed there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them seeming to disappear. in that moment, they knew that their feelings were boundless and that they had found something rare and precious—something that was explosive in its intensity, yet also gentle in its tenderness.

if only that’s what it actually was. it only took 4 weeks for yujin to realize that wonyoung was only a figment of her worst intentions.

because everything changed when you returned and school was about to start up again.

the sounds of the ocean waves and seagulls calling were the ambience of early august. yujin laid on her stomach, back exposed beneath the sun as she shut her eyes and relaxed against the beach blanket.

next to her, wonyoung gently moved a strand of yujin’s hair away from her face. as her fingers brushed against yujin's cheek, she felt conflicted emotions swirling within her. the love she had shared with wonyoung was genuine, and the time they had spent together was precious, but the return of your presence brought a mix of nostalgia and uncertainty.

the gentle waves seemed to mimic the ebb and flow of her thoughts, and the seagulls' calls turned into a haunting reminder of the choices she had to make. 

wonyoung sensed the shift in yujin's mood, and she gently leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her exposed back. "is something bothering you, babe?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

yujin took a deep breath, turning to face wonyoung and looking into her eyes. "no." she whispered, forcing a small smile onto her lips. she couldn’t tell wonyoung the truth, that would be cruel of her.

wonyoung seemed to sense that something was still bothering yujin, but she chose not to press further. instead, she wrapped her arms around yujin, pulling her close in a comforting embrace. they laid there together, simply existing in the moment.

yujin wished she could stop time and savor the simplicity of being in the junior’s arms. she cherished their connection and the love they had shared, but the pending return of your presence had stirred emotions she thought she had left behind.

you’d be back in a week. yujin would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t been counting down the days.

the older girl’s fingertips gently caressed the back of wonyoung’s hair, wishing she could somehow convey all the conflicting emotions swirling within her. 

as yujin's fingers traced delicate patterns through the other girl’s hair, the junior nestled closer, sensing the turmoil within her lover. with her head resting on yujin's chest, she could feel the subtle rhythm of yujin's heartbeat, a steady drum that mirrored the cadence of the waves lapping against the shore.

"yujin," wonyoung murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "i can tell something's bothering you. is it about us?"

yujin hesitated for a moment, not wanting to burden wonyoung with her inner struggles. but she had always valued the honesty and openness they shared, and she knew that keeping her feelings bottled up would only create distance between them.

"yes," yujin finally admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability. but ahn yujin never told the full truth, not even to herself. she wouldn’t dare give wonyoung that luxury either. “i’m just worried something will happen to us. you know, with school starting up for you again. will you call when you’re back at school?"

wonyoung listened attentively, her fingers gently intertwining with yujin's as she processed the older girl's words. she could sense there was more beneath the surface, but she respected yujin's desire to keep some things to herself.

"oh baby," wonyoung replied softly, her voice filled with reassurance. "we’ll be fine. it’s only you that i want.”

“i’m sure everyone wants you, though.” yujin teased softly, pressing a soft kiss to the side of the younger girl’s temple. wony’s chestnut hair blew over her shoulder as she laughed, nuzzling her face into the crook of her lover’s neck. 

“says the gold rush herself.”

gold rush. you used to call her that.

as wonyoung's laughter filled the air, yujin couldn't help but muster a smile, finding comfort in the junior's light-heartedness. but beneath that smile, her heart still felt conflicted, torn between the memories of the past and the present reality.

she cherished her time with wonyoung, but the impending return of you, the person she loved deeply, brought a whirlwind of emotions she struggled to make sense of.

later that evening, twisted in bedsheets with her junior, yujin laid in bed on her back and stared at the ceiling.

the moonlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. wonyoung lay beside her, her head resting on her chest, their bodies intertwined in an intimate embrace. yet, despite the physical closeness, yujin's mind was still lost in a maze of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

as she ran her fingers through wonyoung's hair absentmindedly, yujin couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that tugged at her heart. she felt torn between the past and the present, between the comfort of familiarity and the allure of something new.

the younger girl’s soft breathing filled the room, a reminder of the happiness she brought into yujin's life. there was no denying the deep affection she held for the junior, the way wonyoung made her feel cared for and cherished. yet, yujin couldn't ignore the history and connection she shared with you.

wonyoung may have brought her happiness, but you were the one who brought her peace.

with a heavy sigh, the older girl closed her eyes, trying to push away the conflicting thoughts. she wanted to be present in this moment with wonyoung, to enjoy the warmth of their connection without the burden of indecision weighing her down.

but as much as she tried, the memories of you kept resurfacing—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, the way your lips felt against hers. it was as if the past was pulling at her heartstrings, calling her to return.

as the night wore on, yujin found herself in a state of restlessness. she knew that she needed to make a decision, to confront the feelings that seemed to be at odds with each other. the thought of hurting either you or wonyoung was overwhelming, and she felt paralyzed by the weight of her emotions.

eventually, wonyoung stirred beside her, sensing yujin's unease. "yujin, are you okay?" she asked softly, lifting her head to look into the older girl's eyes.

yujin forced a smile, not wanting to burden the other girl with her internal struggle. "i'm fine," she replied, her voice attempting to sound reassuring. but it was evident that her façade was slipping.

but wonyoung didn't press further, despite that she could sense that something was bothering her girlfriend. with a tender touch, she brushed her fingers against yujin's cheek before pulling her in for a soft kiss.

the kiss was tender, and for a moment, yujin allowed herself to get lost in the warmth of the moment. yet, deep down, she knew that she was lying to wonyoung, you, and herself. 

the weight of her indecision still weighed heavily on her heart, and the tendrils of guilt gnawed at her conscience.

as they pulled away from the kiss, the older girl tried to push away the feelings of doubt that lingered in her mind. she didn't want to hurt wony, but she also didn't want to confront the truth of her conflicting emotions.

but the truth had a way of seeping through the cracks, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. yujin didn’t know it, but at the time, wonyoung knew something was wrong.

 she just couldn’t figure out what it was. at least not yet.

in the days that followed, yujin found herself caught in a tug-of-war between her past and her present. she was panicking as each hour passed, your arrival pending with each fleeting moment.

the nights were spent sleeping next to the junior girl in twisted bedsheets. wonyoung’s body heat was comforting. but even in the safety of their shared bed, yujin couldn't escape the turmoil within her heart.

her phone lay nearby, a constant reminder of your imminent return. each time it buzzed with a message or notification, her heart skipped a beat. she had your flight status notifications on, and anxiety was surging through her body.

your flight landed in an hour. 

the junior girl laid on yujin’s bare chest, and the older girl wrapped her arms around her, holding her close as if trying to shield both wonyoung and herself from the impending storm.

"wanna know something?" wonyoung whispered, eyelids fluttered shut and hair tossed over her shoulder. yujin hummed softly, half not paying attention to what her girlfriend was saying as she ran her fingers through the younger girl’s hair.

“i love you.”

those three words that should have brought immense joy only intensified the turmoil within yujin's heart. she loved wonyoung too, but her mind was consumed with the impending reunion with you, the person who had been a significant part of her life for so long.

but even as she spoke those words, ahn yujin couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach. 

feeling conflicted, yujin planted a soft kiss on wonyoung's forehead. "i love you too," she replied, her voice a mixture of sincerity and sadness. in her heart, she wished she could say those words with complete certainty, but the shadow of uncertainty still lingered.

as the minutes ticked by, yujin's anxiety grew with each passing second. your arrival was imminent, and she knew that she needed to face the truth of her feelings, both for you and for wonyoung. she wanted to be fair to both of you, but the weight of the decision ahead was almost suffocating. 

wonyoung lifted her head slightly, sensing the unease in yujin's touch. "is something bothering you?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

the older girl forced a tight lipped smile and shook her head, gently caressing the cheeks of her lover. “no. i’ve gotta be home in an hour though, i wish i could spend the night.”

wony’s expression softened, understanding that yujin needed to be home soon. even if she didn’t know what it was exactly for.

she wanted to say something to ease the worry she sensed in her girlfriend, but she could also tell that yujin wasn't ready to share everything that was on her mind.

"it's okay," wonyoung replied softly, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. "i'll miss you, but i understand."

yujin leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips, trying to convey her emotions without words. "i'll call you as soon as i'm back home, okay?" she said, her voice filled with affection.

wonyoung nodded, her eyes searching yujin's face for any signs of what she was holding back. but yujin's walls were up, and she couldn't bring herself to be completely honest with her girlfriend just yet.

as yujin reluctantly got up to leave, wonyoung held onto her hand, not wanting to let go. "drive safe," she said softly, her eyes filled with nothing but love.

yujin nodded, squeezing wonyoung's hand gently. "always," she replied with a small smile, despite her heart being heavy with the weight of the decisions she needed to make.

as she left wonyoung's place, yujin's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. she wanted to do the right thing, to be fair to both you and wonyoung, but she felt torn.

from her bedroom window, the younger girl could hear her lover’s motorcycle driving off in the distance. little did she know that yujin wasn’t going home that night. well, not to her house at least.

she was going straight to you. her real home.

the airport was a 45 minute drive, but ahn yujin definitely broke several traffic laws to get there in 25.

at the airport, yujin rushed inside, her heart pounding in her chest. she checked the flight status on her phone one last time, confirming that your flight had landed. she made her way to the arrival gate, her eyes scanning the crowd of people pouring out.

she saw a few elderly and some businessmen. there were tourists and regular people. women and children, and even a dog.

and then there was you.

there you stood amidst the sea of faces, as if the universe had conspired to bring her to this exact moment. your presence alone seemed to light up the entire airport, drawing yujin in like a moth to a flame. your hair, your smile, your familiar figure—everything about you was etched in her memory, even after all this time.

her heart skipped a beat, and she took a hesitant step forward, trying to process the surge of emotions that washed over her like a tidal wave. excitement mixed with nervousness, and she could feel her hands trembling slightly as she approached you.

the cacophony of airport noises seemed to fade away, and it felt as if it was just the two of you in that moment—no one else mattered. the world around seemed to blur, leaving only you in sharp focus.

as you turned and your eyes met hers, a smile spread across your face, and dear god did yujin miss it so much. 

for a moment, neither of you moved, locked in a silent embrace of unspoken words and emotions. yujin's breath caught in her throat as she saw the flicker of recognition in your eyes. that glimmer in your eyes was only there when you looked at her.

finally, you broke the silence, calling out her name softly, and it was like music to yujin's ears. her name on your lips felt like home, a place she had longed to return to.

the older girl’s lips curved into a smile as she closed the distance, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild drumbeat. she wanted to say so much, to convey the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her, but in that moment, words seemed inadequate.

instead, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace that conveyed everything she couldn't put into words. the feeling of your arms around her brought a sense of familiarity and comfort, as if she had never left.

your scent, the sound of your heartbeat, the way your fingers traced delicate patterns on her back—all of it felt like a homecoming, a place where she belonged.

while she held you close, yujin knew that the decision she had made to come here was the right one. the turmoil in her heart had led her to this moment; where she could feel the pieces of herself falling back into place.

as you pulled back slightly, your eyes searched her face, and yujin felt the unspoken question in your gaze. she took a deep breath, finding the courage to speak from the depths of her heart.

"i missed you," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, but every word filled with sincerity and longing.

your eyes softened, and you brushed your fingers against her cheek, a tender touch that spoke volumes.

"i missed you too," you replied, your voice equally filled with emotion.

in that moment, yujin knew that she was where she belonged. it was with you. it would always be with you.

as you both stood there, the world continued to move around you, but it felt as if time had stood still. and in the embrace of your love, yujin found a sense of peace and clarity that she hadn't known in a long time.

the taller girl cupped your face in her hands, her thumbs gently wiping away a stray tear that escaped from your eye. her touch was like a balm to your soul, soothing the ache that had resided there during her absence.

"i thought about you every day," yujin admitted, her voice quivering with emotion. "every moment, i wished you were here. i couldn't stop thinking about you, about us."

your heart swelled with the intensity of her words, and you could feel the raw vulnerability she was exposing. 

"i felt the same way," you whispered, your voice trembling as you allowed yourself to be equally vulnerable. "every second, i wanted to be with you. i couldn't help but wonder if you were thinking of me too."

"i was," yujin said firmly, her gaze never leaving yours. "you were always in my heart, even when i tried to push you away."

you felt her brush a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear before she glanced at your lips. you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, and the longing to be close to yujin became unbearable. without hesitation, you closed the distance between your lips, capturing hers in a long awaited kiss. the world around you faded away, leaving only the warmth of her touch and the taste of her love on your lips.

the kiss was a testament to the depth of your connection, the unspoken words and emotions that flowed between you both. it was a declaration of love, of understanding, and of the profound impact you had on each other's lives.

as you pulled back, your foreheads gently pressed together, and you could feel the soft exhale of yujin's breath against your skin. "i'm here now," you whispered, your voice filled with certainty. "and i'm not going anywhere."

yujin's eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, you both knew that you were meant to be together. the doubts and uncertainties that once clouded your minds were replaced with a newfound clarity and purpose.

"we'll face whatever comes our way, together," yujin said, her voice unwavering. "i love you, and i don't want to let fear or doubt get in the way of us anymore."

you smiled, feeling a weight lift from your heart. "i love you too," you replied, your voice steady with conviction.

and when yujin heard those words for the first time in months, she couldn’t help but smile back. it felt good when you told her those three words.

it felt right when it came from you. 

if only jang wonyoung could’ve known that back then. maybe she wouldn’t have stayed with yujin after that. but it wasn’t her fault.

after all, yujin did tell her that you two were broken up already. it was unfortunate that once school started, everyone knew that you and ahn yujin were broken up. 

well, everyone except you, of course.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: The Broken Hearts Club (Daredevil)

These are rough brainstorming notes. Suggestions and other feedback would be very welcome.

Warning: Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War - Heavy Angst with Eventual Comfort - Smut - Temporary Character Death - Permanent Character Death

The Broken Hearts Club

Matt Murdock / Daredevil x Reader

It is Valentine’s Day and you are feeling morose. Last year, on this day, you had just finished moving in a new place with BOYFRIEND, the sweet doctor you had been dating for a year by that point. You had done it all that – flowers, candy, cards, dinner, and spent the night making love. Then came May and BOYFRIEND, returning from a medical conference in Europe, died when the pilots of his plane were dusted while trying to land the plane. It was not the only loss that terrible day – several LOVED ONES had turned into dust . . . but at least with those, there is a chance (albeit a slim one) that they might come back . . . BOYFRIEND is gone forever.

You have POWERS and training from a MYSTERIOUS PAST but have been living a normal life for years and haven’t exactly maintained those skills. Maybe you hoped that you had put that MYSTERIOUS PAST behind you, that you wouldn’t ever need that training again.

One night, on the way home after work, you stumble across a terrible crime being committed against a teen and you erupted in fury. You didn’t kill the man but you hurt him. It was the first time since the funeral that you had felt something besides soul-deep pain and numbness.

The first vigilante action was impulse but soon you were doing it on purpose. Becoming a vigilante wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism but neither was drinking yourself into stupor or otherwise spending your waking hours in a fog.

About the only other time you didn’t feel numb was when you encountered Daredevil. He was the only one who understood your rage, the need to do something – to save someone even if you could not save the ones you loved. Not that this means that your interactions were always positive.

Especially in the beginning of your relationship with your fellow vigilante, Daredevil was an asshole. You tried to ignore him but you ended up losing your temper and did your best to kick his ass. You blown some of the dust off your old skills but you aren’t as good as you used to be – and Daredevil is very good with the advantage that his combat skills have not been laying dormant for years. So the fight could have gone better. You didn’t exactly lose that fight but you didn’t win either.

Your relationship got better after something happens and you ended up telling him why you were doing this. Probably not a peaceful conservation since you are both rather hostile to each other at that point. Either you or Daredevil or both is too injured to physically fight so you were verbally arguing.

The reason for Daredevil’s terrible attitude is loss – apparently everyone who mattered to him was dusted and only a couple of months after reconciling with them after some kind of falling out.

You cannot help sympathizing with that but still won’t take his shit. You are hurting too and you manage not to be a complete ass to everyone.

But your encounters are more productive afterward – your fights become more sparring than an actual fights.

Today was never going to a fun day – it was Valentine’s Day and it seemed like everywhere you looked, there were happy couples . . . but then the day got worse. You were looking for something in the kitchen and found a small box hidden in the back of a seldom used cupboard or appliance . . . a box with a ring in it. An engagement ring.

You threw on your vigilante suit and ran out, you couldn’t stand to be there for another minute . . .

You don’t know why your feet brought you to this particular roof – the one above an old gym called Fogwell’s. The place where sometimes you and Daredevil spar. Daredevil is either there or arrives shortly after.

It might start out as more of another spar but the next you know, you were kissing and pulling off all your clothes except for the masks and maybe your shirts to avoid knocking off the masks.

You have sex –it’s rough, intense, but also some of the best sex you’ve ever had . . .

Afterward, you both agree that sex was like the sparring – a way to let off steam. A bit of comfort, a bit of pleasure that both of you desperately need. But you aren’t dating. It is strictly a friends acquaintances with benefits situation.

For a while, it seems like that is going to be the way of things. You meet. Sometimes you spar. Sometimes you have sex. Sometimes you do both. Daredevil is a considerate lover, never solely satisfying himself while ignoring your pleasure.

But there are cracks – moments where you or he flirts. Or shares something personal about yourselves. Moments where the sex turns toward something more tender . . .

Feelings start to develop – feelings that both of you fight against but it’s like gravity. You cannot escape it.

Not entirely sure how your identities get revealed:

(1) You need a lawyer and pick Matt largely at random or because he had represented people like Jessica Jones before.

(2) You are lawyer or a paralegal looking for a new job – Matt was advertising, having realized that he needs help without Foggy or Karen there to help . . .

(3) You both come to the same coffee shop one morning.

Regardless – You know that mouth, that ass, that voice . . . He knows that heartbeat, that voice, he can smell himself on you . . .

[deatheatet]

Grace lived AU. Sort of a Trudy lived to AU.

Grace survived because Jake just got out, and in the link while it was in the mountains,Norm and Trudy got Grace there in time for Jake to show up as Toruk Makto. Since they got there faster,Grace was saved. But for this, AU Mo'at fixed her wound in her human body,and she was injured the whole three days and the battle day. Now, everyone is being healed and rounded up at the Tree of Souls. Both ally clans are still there as well. Story starts with Grace,Jake, and Norm talking at the lab, which was moved to the tree of souls area with Mo'at's permission. It's temporary, though.

"So your Ole'ektan now huh,Marine?"Grace grinned, teasing Jake, who rolled his eyes and scoffed playfully. Norm chuckled and rolled his eyes to

"Yeah, I can't figure it out myself. Why is this skxawn is Ole'ektan." Norm teased at Jake to. Jake didn't really mind because it was an understandably funny idea that he went from "Skxawn Sky person" to "Ole'ektan & Toruk Makto" in just three months. Eventually, it was getting dark, and they were all getting tired, but Inkeyni and her husband came over to them.

"Grace?" Inkeyni asked looking at her avatar. Grace,Jake and Norm all looked at each other and back.

"I'm Grace,honey. What is it?"Grace said

"My clans best warrior,Tey'ik,wants to see you. He is injured to as well."Inkeyni said. Jake and Norm watched Grace's eyes widen and looked at one another with a "This make any sense to you?" Look. Grace was quiet for a minute before she shook her head and said, "Uhm. Uh yeah. O-okay. I'll come." Grace started to leave with them when Jake called out."Hey, Grace? What's going on?" She flinched at him and said,"I'll tell y'all later, kid. Promise." And Grace walked away to the Taraygini clan tents. Later the decided to go find Grace since she hadn't come back yet.

Grace walked with Inkeyni to a tent where she was let in. Tey'ik was laying on a sleeping mat with a bandage on his torso,leg, and arm. Grace flinched.

"Well, he is asleep,but please wait till he awakens. He has been truly persistent in seeing you." Inkeyni said. Grace nodded, and she was left alone with her....."Old flame." For a moment, she just watched him,now a bit aged like her,but still very strong with muscles from swimming and climbing trees and cliffs. He was still handsome as ever, and even though his eyes were closed,she was willing to bet the gorgeous amber of his eyes hadn't changed either. She gently touched the side of his face,she couldn't help it,not when her favorite warrior, who was so mighty, was so vulnerable. Tey'ik's eyes opened and he smiled a little

"Grace."his still rough but strong and gentle voice rang out.

"How'd you know it was me?"She asked in a soft manner. In response,Tey'ik took her hand and held it up, gently touching her pinky finger. Grace smiled.

"Why did you want to see me,Tey'ik. I'm sure you have a powerful mate who's worried for you, " Grace said,even before she'd always known one day he'd leave her for a Na'vi woman.

"You're right." Tey'ik told her softly. "I do have a mate. A beautiful one,and she's sitting in front of me." Grace looked away."I'm not your mate Tey'ik,I never was." Tey'ik groaned softly and rubbed his eyes

"Eywa's sake,you're as stubborn as a sternbeast, woman," He told Grace. She flinched and said, "Just say it, Tey'ik. I'm not your mate."

"Grace" Tey'ik said taking her hand and holding over his chest,his heart "If I was not meant to love you and you not to be my love, Eywa would not have intertwined our fates this way." Grace went quiet and was crying a little. Tey'ik forced himself to sit up through the pain and wiped her tears with his hand. "Please do not cry,Yawne. It hurts me to see my lovely little demon cry. " Grace looked at him through her tears. She knew he wasn't lying and knew she'd deluded herself about believing she wasn't always going to be his, she whispered "Tey'ik...." Tey'ik gently cradled her face with his hand and leaned gently, kissing her. Grace kissed back,putting her hand over his on her cheek. They stayed like that for a moment before she pulled away. He smiled but winced and forced himself to lay down again. He smiled gently at Grace and murmured, "Go ahead and leave,Grace. Your body,both of them,need rest." Grace chuckled lightly and kissed him one more time before she moved herself out of the tent and to her own. Once there, she transferred back to her human body and grabbed a spare mask battery, and went back towards his tent. Jake and Norm stopped her, though. "Grace? What's going on, and what was that about earlier?"

[7r0773r]

Guston in Time: Remembering Philip Guston by Ross Feld

To steer one's life—in art—without being too much of a victim—not to feel too much ashamed is I think our common, I mean the given—problem? Who, in his right mind, would not want to give it all up altogether—but of course we are not in our right minds but 'besides ourselves.' And, above all we truly are not in control. So, the choices we make in order to put at least a temporary end to the torture of vacillations that finally can kill. And so, there is the treadmill. An exact, noble, yet grinding symbol . . . . (Guston letter, p. 13)

***

Certainly most of the fifties and early sixties abstractions Guston painted are seductively beautiful, no question. Camouflage invariably is artful, aiming as it does for a subtlety that has to be greater than disclosure's. The pictures have an aggregating pulse: mirrored forms, supporting and extending and clumping forms, all redolent of strain and sincerity. De Kooning energizes us with the pictorial curiosity of his abstractions, but Guston sits us down centrally to view the worrying work of moving color and form around. 

No camouflage is perfect, though. Even in those classic fifties paintings there remained stubborn hints and shreds of representation as well as personal psychology: a green hood shape here, tendrils that might have been legs, a form suggesting a recoiling head. Was Guston really happy to paint this way? Probably yes and no. Certainly he believed that dilemma and unhappiness were the very subject matters of the paintings; and there always was a kind of flexible lean in Guston's abstractions—a leaning-back from the recognizable; and later, in the early mid-sixties pictures, a leaning forward into ash pits of depression, big black blocks of it.

But to lean is not the same as to move. The abstractions are meltingly all of a piece, eventually becoming larger and baggier and softer-edged but still very much held in check. Only when Guston finally was freely broken-out from visual orthodoxies (including his own) did images fall out of him that truly seemed to succeed and incorporate each other; that allegorized, redefined and separated each other. What was a central pulse gave way to images sliding into motion. (pp. 80-81)

***

As it so happens, Guston arose—and then escaped—from the heart of one of the most deeply Protestant art-histories ever seen: the Abstract Expressionists. The New York painters made external Works that testified to inner Faith, the gestural not aimed outward but urging a painting to go back down beneath its paint, to mean no more than its deepest soul. Abstract Expressionism sought purity with a certain portion of Puritanism. Painters like Rothko or Newman and Still, with their neo-sublimes, recapitulated Plato and Rousseau in finding that, as Barish says, "truth lies not in concrete particulars nor in what possesses the accent and the beat of life, but in the silent, invisible essences that underlie it." For Puritanism shares with Romanticism (Barish again): "a belief in absolute sincerity which speaks directly from the soul, a pure expressiveness that knows nothing of the presence of others. It takes as its models the guiltless folk of the earth, who 'know not seems': the peasant, the savage, the idiot, the child—those in whom the histrionic impulse remains undeveloped."

Guston on the other hand constitutionally mistrusted all essences. Nor would he be denied a single instance of "the accent and the beat of life." And his histrionic impulse, once he let it out, developed quickly. But to do so, he had to work directly against his New York School habits. He had to make himself stubbornly inauthentic.

This in itself has led to its own confusions in placing Guston's challenge, for there is a single prevailing mode of artistic inauthenticity in our time: the Duchampian/ironic school. The first baffled reception to Guston's painting found shelter there, the art world calling Guston a neo-Pop artist or cartoonist. This he never was. Duchamp, and the Pop artists, and the pastiche-ists like Rauschenberg and Johns all reveled in sorting-out the accepted into patterns of unacceptability: distortion, cool shock tonic high-spirits. They were after effect as well as élan. But Guston tacked toward celebrating the crap of life not for its own ironic sake but as the ever-present still life that surrounds the embarrassingly, even tragically human. No Duchampian object ever is tragic. Many if not most of Guston's objects, even the most hilarious, are. (pp. 92-94)

***

ABOUT your new work—and when is it "finished"—oh-oh—that is the real and only question. Of course you are absurdly right—the work says "let me be, I'm only a painting or a book—let me live a little." ALONE—WITHOUT YOU. But is it that I think I am through (I may be only exhausted) and go to bed and 4 A.M. (when you awake) cannot sleep—clothes back on—looking at the picture—scrape it out—take big house-painters brushes, smush it all up and feel relief. Start again—what a relief to face nothing—recently in this state, some other kind (I wish I knew) of seeing takes place—the ravaging hunger to see something I haven't seen before takes over. It must be appeased. Ross, if age has given me something, it may be, (I think) a small electronic time box—built in—won't allow me to rest, until something—anything—a scribble is put down before I think it out first. Oh, how I hate composing! Ross, I don't think I am a painter—at all! I am, I think, a medieval alchemist in a frenzy. (Guston letter, pp. 101-02)

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously  irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.” 

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[hockeywhy]

caught in the middle (1); m. barzal

SYNOPSIS: For the sake of your friend’s wedding with Tito, you and Mat agree to maintain the facade of still being the happy couple everyone sees you as. But the act comes with its consequences, one more taxing than the other. WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 11.2k A/N: I am so excited for this because it contains some of the tropes I enjoy seeing in fics, and I was dying to also put out some new content as opposed to only reposting my old writing. I wish I wrote this when I was still decent at doing the thing, but I hope that this is still an enjoyable read that makes you look forward to the next part! Title is based off Alexander 23′s Caught in the Middle which is such a good song and I really recommend. Sections in italics represent flashbacks. 

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“We’re getting married!” 

You gasped, bringing both hands to cover the lower half of your face as your jaw dropped at the announcement. It shouldn’t be so surprising – you would’ve bet even your most prized possession that this was bound to happen at some point eventually – but knowing this was actually now a sure thing sent a thrill through you. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and in place of it, your expression mirrored that of your best friend’s: the wide grin, the bright eyes and of course, the giggles of sheer excitement as soon as the news sunk in. Elise was glowing and next to her, Tito embodied the idea of what the world’s proudest man would look like. 

“Oh my god!” you gasped, and Elise burst into laughter, not hesitating to jump out of her seat at the same time you did so that the two of you could embrace. Among your squeals and giggles, you could faintly make out the sound of hands being clapped, then caught sight of Mat and Tito hugging. Over Elise’s shoulder and over Tito’s, you and Mat exchanged smiles and you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth as soon as he winked at you. “Congratulations!” you said as soon as you broke apart, though the two of you still held hands. Immediately, your gaze fell down to her hand where a ring now rested, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t taken notice of it earlier. “Just—when? How? Where? Who else knows?” 

“We don’t have a date or venue set yet, but we wanted you and Mat to be the first to know,” Elise informed you as soon as you took your seats again.

“We have a favour to ask from both of you,” Tito supplied. As soon as he said it, you felt Mat’s hand wrap around your own and the two of you exchanged a brief look during which he squeezed your hand gently, before diverting your attentions back to the soon-to-be newlyweds. 

Newlyweds. The immensity of the word sent a discrete shiver down your spine. 

“I can’t imagine asking this of anyone else: I want you to be my best man,” Tito directed at Mat.

“You shouldn’t even think of asking this of anyone else,” Mat responded immediately, and the two shook hands on it. You couldn’t help but think that if they weren’t as comfortable as they were now, they’d probably hug again, do their typical pats on the back or fist bump as they usually did, but Elise’s head now rested on Tito’s shoulder and Mat’s hand was so warm, so firm atop your own. 

“Be my maid of honour, please?” Elise asked. “I can’t think of anyone more suitable than you and Mat as best man and maid of honour. We’ll return the favour of course,” she added playfully. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you warned without hesitating because after all, you had no reason to – and you knew Mat would agree with you. 

Although the two of you hadn’t touched on the subject yet, there was an unvoiced knowledge shared between you that eventually, this would also be you. Eventually, Mat would ask you and your heart would grow and your soul would warm, and you would say yes. Yes, yes, yes. 

As you all settled down to hear a replay of how Tito popped the question and Elise accepted the ring, Mat’s thumb began caressing the back of your hand. Though the gesture wasn’t a novelty, you couldn’t help but take notice of the way your heart fluttered each time he seemed to linger more on your ring finger. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a ring wrapped around it but neither of you were in a rush: you simply waited for the right time to take your relationship to a point in which it would become a forever thing, fully confident it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ but rather, ‘when’.

*

This was anything but the right time. 

You frown as you cast a glance down at the phone resting on your lap, eyes narrowing a little at the name which brought the display to life for the second time in the space of less than a minute. You click the side button twice, silencing the vibrations of it and from your side, your colleague leans in to whisper to you. 

“You can take it if it’s urgent. I’ll fill you in afterwards.”

“Thanks,” you whisper back. “I think it can wait until the meeting wraps up though.” 

Luke gives you a well, if you’re sure look as he leaned back in his chair and you flash him a grateful smile. 

Still, it is difficult for you to settle comfortably in your seat again and much to your chagrin, you find yourself crossing and uncrossing your legs as if the call had sent some sort of signal to your entire body kickstarting jitteriness you can honestly do without. Not long after you find some comfort and energy to draw yourself back to the present, your phone buzzes again – only once this time, indicating a message. 

I’m waiting for you in the lobby.

Fuck, you curse inwardly, locking the phone in frustration. As quietly as you can, you gather your notebook and work tablet then lean in towards Luke who met you halfway. “Have to run but let me know if I miss anything important.”

“At the current rate, I wouldn’t count much on it but will do anyway,” he states as quietly as he can and the two of you exchange sly, conspiratorial smiles before you excuse yourself quickly and very quietly while making a swift exit. 

Internally, a string of curses follow without a break in between, and you have to physically bite down on your lip out of sheer fear one might unconsciously slip out. If anyone would be in your shoes, though, they wouldn’t blame you for it. You are the type of person to stick closely to any plans and agreements made, so the fact that he just chose to turn up so unexpectedly doesn’t sit right with you. Not anymore, that is. Besides, you had both agreed to do this after your workday ended as opposed to midday and definitely not in this place. Now, you have to brace yourself for coping with a foul mood on top of whatever else the rest of the day would throw at you. 

“You’ve got a visitor,” Rachel announces quietly in a sing-song voice from behind the reception desk as you approach. She doesn’t bother masking the giddiness in her tone and you struggle to work up as genuine of a smile as you can when she nods her head towards the waiting area.

“Thanks, Rach.”

“Bet he must be so happy your redeployment to the Baltimore offices was cut short so quickly,” she coos. 

“Sure is. We’re still on for tonight?” you ask quickly in an attempt to drive attention away from the subject before she can try to lead into it too far for your own comfort at the moment. 

Rachel’s smile falters a little, her expression somewhat quizzical. “Don’t you want to postpone so you could spend some time with him? You only just got back yesterday, after all.” 

You swallow uncomfortably before shrugging. “We’ve got plenty of time to do that. So tonight, okay? I’ll catch you later.” 

“Your call. See you then, Y/N!”

You only had just a split second to brace yourself for what is ahead of you, so you draw in a breath then slowly exhale it as discreetly as you can while cutting your way across the lobby. Since agreeing to this meeting, you prepared yourself as best as you could, imagining every single scenario and devising the appropriate plan for it: from the way you presented yourself to what you said, you had a mental plan for everything including a few backups just in case. The only thing you hadn’t factored in, apparently, was how little was under your control and you hated that. Each step you take made you feel less and less prepared for what is ahead, and the thought rattles you. If you were swift enough on your feet, you could just about make a quick turn and dip into the hallway leading to the visitor restrooms. All you need is just a few more seconds. A little alone time for you to run over your lines in your head. 

Except—

Mat looks up at the same time you take a step sideways, ready to bolt towards temporary safety. His eyebrows rise a little as if surprised by the sight of you, but you refuse to appear outwardly deflated by the turn of events. Instead, you square your shoulders, tip your head back a little and arch an eyebrow. You can do this. You note he is dressed casually, and his hair is pushed back underneath a black cap. 

Unless there was a change in schedule, Thursdays were scrimmage days. 

Your jaw clenches ever so slightly as you recall that with so much ease. Then again, you basically built up a collection of information that was practically helpful or useful to exactly no one over the course of the past few years. It’ll probably take just as much or maybe more to replace that with something different, so you try cutting yourself some slack whenever you are willing to.

“I thought we agreed on five thirty,” you state coolly, pitching your voice at just the right tone to also express surprise.

Mat pushes up from the armchair, returning whatever magazine he’d picked up back on the nearby glass table. “Sorry, I tried calling earlier this morning to ask if we can reschedule but it went straight to voicemail.” 

Oh. You mentally curse yourself for not charging your phone as soon as you made it home from the airport the previous night or bothering to check the voicemail message you’d been notified of once it did begin charging earlier this morning at your desk.

“They rescheduled the viewing of the new arena for this evening, and I was in the area, so I thought I’ll drop by just in case,” Mat continues, throwing a cursory glance around the place though to you, it seemed more like a way of having a break from the eye contact. You don’t complain; you welcome that. 

You open your mouth, ready to berate his poor timing but even you could admit you carry some fault here too. Only a little. You bite down lightly on the tip of your tongue, before nodding towards the seats though you didn’t wait for Mat; you sit, deciding he could make up his own mind if he wanted to follow or not. 

“How was Baltimore?” he asks after a few moments of awkward silence while settling in the same armchair he previously occupied. 

“Mat,” you say, hoping it comes across as more of a warning than a plea. You can’t deal with small talk and a part of you thinks that’d make the entire deal even more difficult to go through with. He presses his lips together into a thin line and you take that as your sign to continue. “Elise told me she’d like us to be at the venue a day in advance of the rehearsal dinner if we can. I’ve already arranged my leave for that, so it’s not a problem for me. I’m planning on making my way there sometime tomorrow afternoon.” 

“We can go together then. I can pick you up after work.” 

“There’s no need—”

“Y/N.” The sharpness of his tone catches you off guard and you can swear Mat was equally surprised by that, though only for the briefest of moments. He slides forward a little in the seat almost as if he is more than ready to leave but Mat has  never been one to back down so easily and you doubt any of that changed during the course of the past three months or so. “You were the one who insisted we go through with this and I’m trying. I really am, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. So please. Let’s just put everything to the side, do what we need to do and then it’s done.” 

Done. Like it is a task, like it is something you needed to cross off a to-do list, scrunch it up then trash it.  

The finality of the word is so heavy that it feels as if it had managed to knock out all the air in your lungs. You and Mat were running headfirst towards a fork in the road, and deep down you knew that was truly it. If until now the two of you have been dancing around each other, playing pretend as if you were kids living in a world of fantasy, you know that eventually, you have to let light shine on the truth: whatever lay ahead, you and Mat could no longer walk the same paths. It is just a matter of admitting it not only to yourselves, but also to the people you were lying to. 

Lying for, you prefer. 

Defeated, you slump in your own seat a little, legs crossing and fingers tapping lightly against the back of your notebook. “Be at my place by two. I’ll have everything that I need ready the night before so we won’t need to wait around.” A pause, and then, “how’s Tito?” 

Mat lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Excited. Nervous. It’s the only thing he talks about in the locker, outside of it, on ice and off ice. How’s Elise?” 

“Same deal with her. I never knew there were so many shades of blue before, but I’ve been proven wrong before.”

A pause follows that could easily be attributed to the group of people rushing into the building and allowing noise from the street outside to filter in while the doors were kept open, but you can tell there is more to it than that if you are to go by the shift in Mat’s expression. His expression changes and you find you can’t quite read into it or guess what could be going on through his head. You try not to focus much on the little voice inside your mind that was bothered by it but find it takes a considerable amount of effort to do so. Force of habit, you conclude. 

“You don’t say,” Mat finally responds. There is a hint of accusation in his tone. Or regret. Maybe both.

Your lips press together firmly, a light frown forming on your face but chose to let that slide. Not only is the lobby of your workplace the least suitable place to have an argument about the two of you, but you find that even those short moments of seeing Mat face to face months after you called it quits appears to take a toll on you. You feel tired, worn out and willing to be the first one to back down for once. 

It is cruel irony that a big red neon EXIT sign is visible from the corner of your eye.

You release a quiet, long sigh then stand up from the seat. “Well, I guess we’re done here? I do have another meeting to prepare for, so…” You trail off, already backing away a few steps.

Mat opens his mouth as if ready to say something else but promptly presses his lips together, deciding against it. He gives a swift nod of his head then stands up. It’s then you notice the two Styrofoam cups in front of him and the neon EXIT sign imprinted in your mind starts flashing temptingly at you. Mat is a step ahead. He holds out one of the cups towards you and you are ready to tell him off for it, but he cut in.

“Thought I wouldn’t drop by empty handed.” When you don’t make a move to accept it, his eyes briefly peek behind you. “Rachel’s all eyes this way, by the way,” he informs you and a brief glance over your shoulder confirms Mat hasn’t been lying.

As soon as you turn to look towards the reception desk, Rachel grins, waves quickly at you then turns back to her computer screen. Begrudgingly, you accept the cup of coffee and force a tight smile. 

“See you soon,” you say by way of greeting and didn’t wait to hear a response from Mat. 

It isn’t until you scan your pass to cross the security barriers and make a turn out of sight that you take a sip from the drink and almost immediately wish you didn’t. It’s your order to a T. The two of you even brought a coffee machine that would let you replicate it on days when you didn’t feel like leaving the comforts of your apartment, especially days when Mat didn’t need to get up early for practices or scrimmages or evening games. It stayed with Mat when you left and the memory left a bitter taste in your mouth, despite the gentle sweetness of the beverage. 

Without thinking twice, you throw the cup in the nearest trash can. 

*

As soon as your order is set on the table, you ignore the basket of fries and reach straight for your glass to take a long sip from the straw, letting out a content sigh as soon as you felt satiated enough.

“Long day,” you state in response to Rachel’s raised eyebrows but she seems to accept that by raising her own glass. You clink yours against hers, take a smaller sip then set it back down on the table. “What time do you think you’ll make it over to the hotel?” 

“Well, I was thinking of trying to get there by midday on the day of the rehearsal dinner but it’s starting to look more like late afternoon. I’m…” She trails off, and you can just about pick up on her hesitation and the way her gaze shifts over to the side momentarily as if avoiding something or considering whether to continue that. You move in your seat, peeling your back away from the plush backrest to lean in a little closer.

“You’re…” you trail off, voice peaking just a little into a question in an attempt to prompt her to continue.

Rachel takes a deep breath in, shoulders visibly drooping and when she looked back at you, she did so with a look that could only reflect…shame? Embarrassment? 

“Luke and I are sort of thinking of coming along together.” At the sight of your widened eyes, she quickly adds, “just as friends! We’re still working out through a few things and we’re taking it slow. As in, much, much slower than the first time around.”

“No way! That’s… Rach, that’s so good. I’m happy for you both, seriously.” 

You find that you truly believed that, though it wasn’t a surprise to you. You had introduced Rachel to Luke while she visited you in Baltimore and at the time, he worked with you there also. Initially, you didn’t think much of it - you simply invited her to come along to a few after work drinks and the two kicked it off easily that night. Very easily apparently, because as the night started coming to an end, Rachel prompted you to go ahead without her. Ready to say you weren’t going to leave her own her own, you shortly found out exactly why: you watched with plenty of amusement and fascination as she and Luke climbed into a taxi together and whizzed off to his place, undoubtedly. That was pretty much their start and continuation. Her visits to Baltimore were more frequent and though you were seeing her often enough, it definitely wasn’t as much as Luke saw of her. And you were fine with that. They fit almost perfectly and it only took a few more meetings for them to label themselves as a couple. 

Things began crumbling as soon as Luke had moved to the New York office just a few weeks before your own return. While he seemed fine with the idea of Rachel working in the same place, that wasn’t also her take on things.

“It’s weird,” she told you through the phone. “It just… It’s so weird. I’d be seeing him at my place or his and in the office? No thanks. That’s way too much for me, you know?” 

It made sense, of course, and though you rooted for them, you didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. Yet, there was a tremble to her voice, a sort of uncertainty that made you think otherwise. It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t have any feelings for him - maybe she was simply shocked to see him walk through those glass doors one morning to pick up his brand new ID and claim what would soon become his permanent desk across from yours. 

“Thanks,” she tells you, pulling you back into the present. “But like I said, slow and easy does it. We’ve been talking more and that makes a huge difference.” 

“For sure. If communication isn’t the backbone of a relationship, I don’t know what is,” you agree and wasn’t that ironic? You’re hardly in the position of giving any relationship advice at all or saying what is good for one and what isn’t. Not anymore. Not when your own had fallen apart. 

Rachel grins. “You’d know. You and Mat have been together for… how long now?” 

You should’ve seen it coming a mile away. You swallow uncomfortably, take another sip of your drink and take a few fries just to buy yourself a little more time. “Maybe four years? Don’t really keep track of that anymore,” you said as casually as you could muster, lifting your shoulders in a shrug. 

“I think I’d stop doing that eventually too at the rate you two are going. Honestly, I would’ve bet anything you would’ve been the first to tie the knot. Actually, thinking about it,” she says, clicking her fingers in recollection, “Elise said the same thing to me the other day when we caught up on the phone. She went—“

You don’t really register her words. There is a low ringing in your ears and an uncomfortable draft sweeps in the locale as the entrance door somewhere behind you is being kept open, no doubt a large group making their way in; it sends shivers down your body, but really, you are pretty sure you can’t only attribute them to a brief gust of wind. After all, your sweater is keeping you sufficiently cosy and warm. In front of you, Rachel continues praising your relationship with Mat, talking about how anyone took a look at you both and would say, whatever they have going, I want it too and you are trying so, so hard to block out as much as you can of it. You can stop her, of course; distract her with whatever random topic and you know she’d go with it but your jaw is locked in place, teeth clenched uncomfortably. You blame that and the way your nails dig into the palms of your hands on the sting behind your eyes and the sudden heaviness weighting down on your chest. 

It isn’t so much the pain of your relationship ending that was rendering you in a state of daze, but the shame of what you and Mat agreed to do: pretend the two of you were still the happy couple Elise, Tito and everyone else thought of you as just to not spoil whatever luck they thought you’d be passing on to them by being their main witnesses. And then, once the event passes and they would return to New York from the honeymoon you and Mat would soon gift to them on their wedding day, you’d tell them the truth. Or part of it anyway. Definitely no mentions that the two of you were childish enough to play pretend; just a simple, clean break timed just perfectly with your request to be permanently redeployed elsewhere. Preferably, as far from New York City as possible so that you no longer have to walk the streets you once both did or yearn to once again visit that perfect pie place the two of you once dubbed your own.

“We’re not together anymore.”

The words stumble out of your mouth in a desperate now or never manner. Despite the anxiousness that came with the act, you find relief in it also. It feels freeing to be able to admit the truth to someone that isn’t only yourself though perhaps you should’ve thought of this more carefully: the idea of now needing to come fully clean to Rachel is somewhat daunting, mostly because of what she might say in response to the front you and Mat are trying to uphold. But for the first time in what feels like too long, you no longer feel like a fraud; like a person lying to everyone around them.

“Wait.” Rachel frowns, and it was obvious she doesn’t quite know what to do with that information or how to best process it. Her head tilts a little, palm idly rubbing against the side of her neck so you take the initiative to come across as unbothered by this as possible by leaning into the seat, legs crossing as you fiddled with the drink’s straw. “What? I’m confused. Didn’t Mat just drop by earlier? You two seemed okay. He was…fine when he came in. We didn’t talk much, sure, but he was all smiley and just…normal.” 

You laugh quietly and shortly. “It’s been a while now. Maybe two or three weeks before I left for Baltimore, I think. It’d be pretty worrying if he was still hung up about it. After all, we both agreed on it. And this,” you add, a little more disheartened and embarrassed. “This…thing we’re doing. We promised Tito and Elise we’ll be there for them on their big day and we will. But they had this… I guess, idea of us being an ideal couple. Whatever that is,” you continue more quietly and with a roll of your eyes. “He wanted to tell Tito, but I didn’t want to spoil Elise’s day, you know? So he agreed. Took some convincing because it feels so… Gosh, it sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? Pretending we’re still together just to spread some fake cheer around.” 

“Oh, honey…” Rachel whispers and you read the sympathy in her voice. Not that she makes it particularly difficult to take note of. “But… I thought everything was okay. Actually, way more than okay. Perfect, even. What…uh—“ She trailed off awkwardly, but you could easily fill in that gap.

What happened?

You bring the beverage to your mouth, this time drinking from the glass directly as opposed to using the straw. The mixer stings your throat this time around but the small ice cube you take into your mouth numbs it away pretty quickly. Slowly, you chew it to small pieces and speak only when you finish it.

“I thought long and hard about this the first few weeks after we called it quits,” you admit. “We always talked about what bothered us or if there was something on our mind, but at one point we just… We stopped wanting to compromise. When I was put forward for Baltimore, it was going to be a permanent thing. Mat was happy, sure, but I could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest with me, you know? When I called him out on it, he asked me well what about us? And I said we’d be fine. Baltimore isn’t a different continent. It’s not even a different timezone. He could come over when he had free time and if he didn’t, I’d always spend weekends in New York anyway. It’s Baltimore, Rach. Not fucking San Francisco or whatever. Eventually, he told me exactly what was on his mind: he couldn’t do long distance. Not even for a short period of time while I figured out if Baltimore is really what I wanted. Isn’t it a bit hypocritical, though?” You question, but it’s clear Rachel feels a bit awkward about giving her take on it right now, so you make it easier for her by responding to your own question. “I felt lonely too when he was on the road. I was worried he’d find someone different, someone much better while away. He never gave me a reason to doubt him, but a small part of me still thought what if. This happened right before he was on the road again, actually. We didn’t call, barely even texted those weeks and then when he returned, we decided it’d be best to break up. Didn’t take us a long discussion to get to that conclusion because at that point, it just… I don’t know. It felt like we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

Rachel presses her lips together, the frown still on her face and hesitantly, she asks, “who said it first?”

“I did,” you respond without hesitating. “He wanted a break while we work it all out but come on, Rach, a break? Look me in the eyes and tell me people really believe in breaks and they come back to each other as if nothing happened.” 

“I mean…” she trails off, pointing at herself by way of explanation. “Look at me and Luke, I guess.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not the same thing, trust me. This was for the best, Rach. It’s much neater to call it quits. That way, neither of us will feel obliged to hold back if life puts something different ahead of us.” You pause for a moment, teeth biting into your lower lip. “They said they’ll always have me back there if I decide on it, so who knows. Once I wrap up the project their called me back for, I might just take them up on it. Not quite a promotion, but it’ll be a good sidestep and maybe a change of scenery is what I need.”

“And do you think it’s good? What the two of you are doing right now?” Rachel questions, not at all deterred by your weak attempt at trying to divert conversation to a more work related topic. “And I don’t mean it just for Elise and Tito’s wedding, but for you and Mat generally speaking. I mean… the two of you have been together for a pretty long time. Doesn’t it… Isn’t it odd?” 

“It’s not normal, that’s for sure,” you confirm. “But it’d be weirder for everyone if we were to tell them we’re no longer together given we’ve been asked to do what we need to do. Rach, promise me this stays between us, okay? Promise. I know how it sounds, I know how it’ll look but trust me on this, okay?” 

She fixes you with a sceptical stare, a look that holds yet more questions than certainty but eventually, she nods her head and relief washes over you at the gesture. “I’m sorry it happened, Y/N,” she offers, voice warm and sympathetic as she places a hand on the table palm up. “And I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

You smile softly and reach for it, returning the squeeze she gives you. There is comfort in the gesture, comfort in her words and you find yourself rooting for it, so grateful to have received it. “The worst part is over, but thank you, Rachel. “It means a lot.”

“Feel like carpooling with Luke and I?”

“I’m good,” you assure as you both relax back into your seats. “Elise wants us there the day before the rehearsal. I guess just to have some familiar faces around that aren’t just wedding planners, so Mat and I agreed to go together tomorrow. Promise I won’t lose my shit if our song plays on the radio,” you add jokingly and find yourself laughing along with Rachel. 

“What song’s that?” 

Too many, you think, although one in particular stands out to you. “Brett Young’s In Case You Didn’t Know.”

*

A tray containing an assortment of dishes is set on the table and shortly after, an ice cold pitch of sangria accompanies that. Eager to cool down, you reach for one of the empty glasses to pour yourself a drink but Mat’s quicker. He takes them both, filling your glass first before his own. You laugh to yourself and Mat grins at that, briefly looking towards you as he fills his glass. You’re about to take a sip, eager to both quench your thirst and cool down but Mat takes the initiative of initiating a toast by raising his glass a little, elbow resting on the table. 

“What’re we toasting for tonight?” You ask, imitating his pose by leaning forward a little. “To our first holiday together? To how perfect the weather’s been so far? To how I mastered paddle boarding way before you did?” 

Mat laughs, lowering his head as he did so but when he looked back up at you, he clinked his glass against yours and held it there. “To all of that. To one of the many, many holidays we’ll have together. To this moment right here, to us, to you.” He pauses and the strobe lights of the bar switch from dark blue to hot pink, and the way Mat stares at you in this moment makes your heart race inexplicably. “To how much I love you.” 

He takes your breath away. Draws it right out of your lungs and you feel heady. It’s the first summer with Mat, the first  I love you from him and it suddenly feels as if this bar is too small for the both of you. You love him, and he loves you too and the only thing you could imagine doing is jumping in his arms but there’s a table between you and sangria topped wine glasses in your hands, and he’s wearing a pristine white shirt that looks incredible against his tanned skinned and there’s a lot of people around (the majority significantly older than both your age and Mat’s combined) so you simply grin and carefully lean forward more, pressing a kiss to his mouth. 

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips and even if your voice is low compared to the loud, cheesy country music blasting through hidden stereos, you know Mat catches on to that. 

“I love you,” he says right back and before you pull away, he bumps his nose against yours gently, making you giggle.

You both take a sip of your drinks and you smack your lips together, content with the turn of the night. 

You and Mat had been dating for a few months, but this was the first time the two of you will spend back to back nights and days together without needing to rush somewhere. Of course, a part of you was anxious about it - while it was easy to spend a few hours together now and then, maybe even the odd night together, it was entirely different being together pretty much all the time. There were habits and quirks you each had that might get in the way, but your worries were soon put to rest. You and Mat had wonderful chemistry together, easily able to spend your time together but also still enjoy each other’s company while doing separate activities. You didn’t want to rush into things and you made no move to do so, but it was ever so easy to imagine what living with Mat would be like. And sure, you were well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows; the two of you would eventually transition out of this honeymoon-type period of your relationship, but something told you life would Mat would never bore you. It’d never make you wish for anything different. 

“Give me a second,” Mat says and before you could ask him what he meant, he’s out of his seat and you follow him across the bar, a little confused. 

He makes his way past the bar, past the pool tables and stops in front of what is undoubtedly a jukebox. Curious, you arch an eyebrow and watch as he fiddles with finding the right amount of change before inserting the coins in the slot. It takes him a while before he finds whatever song it is he wants and it takes enough time for him to make it back to your table before the jukebox and sound system registers the request. You don’t recognise the first few notes at all, much less the accompanying guitar strings but you don’t have time to search your memory for a title. 

Mat stops by your side, holding a hand out to you. “Dance with me.” It’s more statement than question and under any circumstances, you may have felt a little awkward about doing this, but it’s the heat of the moment and your giddiness that pushes you to your feet, hand in Mat’s. 

The two of you are beaten to an emptier area in the establishment by two other much older couples that were closer to it anyway, and you find that gives you a bit more of a boost also. Mat pulls you to him, wrapping one arm around your waist while holding on to your free hand while you hold on to his shoulder with the other. Your fingers lightly clench and unclench the soft material of his shirt, lowering your head a little and you smile against the back of your hand. It’s so painfully cheesy and there’s nowhere near enough other people dancing along to the song but you love it much more than you thought you ever would. 

“Know what I’d invest all my money into?” He asks you suddenly.

You pull back a little, still swaying along with the song. “Cryptocurrency seems like a safe bet right now.” 

Mat laughs, that big hearty laugh of his that makes your smile wider and when it passes, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Well, I’m glad one of us has a good head on their shoulders, but no.” He shakes his head, then laughs again, shorter and quieter as if recalling your response. “A time machine. I want to stop time right here and right now so that we can be as we are for a little while longer.”

“Cheesy,” you joke, despite the warmth coursing across your entire body and the jelly-like feeling forming in your knees. “But perfectly understandable.”

“Eventually, we wouldn’t need it, but it’d be nice to have one for tonight.”

“Eventually? How so?” You question, then narrow your eyes a little, the gesture playful. “You plan on getting bored of me and breaking up?” 

“What!” He exclaims and pulls you in just that much closer. He lets go of your hand only so he could bring his to your chin, tipping your head back a little. “Never,” kiss, “say that,” kiss, “again.” The final kiss you share with him is a little longer and you take the liberty of bringing your hand to his chest, palm pressing against it to feel the thump of his heart against his ribcage momentarily. Then, slowly, you graze the tips of your nails along his exposed collarbone and peck his lips once more before pulling away. It’s then that the song’s name and artist comes to your mind, almost as an afterthought. From hidden speakers, Brett Young declares I couldn’t live life without you and Mat gives you a pointed stare. “Damn, he said it before I could.” 

“It’s the thought that counts,” you assure him. “Either way, I think I prefer hearing it from you, Barzal.” 

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t live without you,” he recites and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He sways you both in a more exaggerated manner that makes you cling to him more out of habit than necessity. You’ve known you’d trust Mat with anything, but each day, he seems to do something that makes that thought solidify more and more in your mind. The comfort and safety that brings wraps around you like a warm blanket.

Be it the hot weather, the somewhat stifling interior of the bar, the sips of sangria on an empty stomach, the euphoria of the moment or all things combined, you nod quickly. And from somewhere in the depths of your mind, the very bottom of your heart, you respond with, “I can get used to this day after day. So don’t let me go, baby.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, tone full of care and love and warmth. He gives you his promise without hesitation and you know it’s bound to stick.

*

Your phone buzzes once. 

I’m downstairs. Need help with your bags?

You push up from the comfort of your couch and make one last round of your apartment to make sure you had everything you definitely needed from where it was placed. 

I’m good. Will be down in a minute, you text back but don’t pocket your phone right away. Instead, you stare at the screen for a little while longer, half tempted to scroll through the thread of messages. They’d provide a stark timeline of when things started going wrong and you would probably be able to see exactly how things changed between the two of you from the moment you suggested a mere break wouldn’t do it. But doing that would be like breaking a streak you had going for sufficient time to earn a pat on your back. The journey of getting to a point where you were sufficiently okay with being in Mat’s presence without any other company was a long one and the last thing you needed was to recall how it once was. 

You and Mat started out as friends after Elise introduced the two of you just a short while before he started his professional career with the Islanders. She talked about how the two of them met in school and how great of a guy he was; real down to earth, funny and incredibly ambitious - traits she also assigned to you, and therefore thought the two of you would get along great. She wasn’t wrong about it. You knew a little about hockey, going to games every now and then mostly whenever Elise dragged you along but you found that Mat made the game more enjoyable. He explained it to you in a manner that didn’t make you feel belittled or as if it should be something you already knew of, and didn’t mind explaining some things more than once. On the other hand, you introduced him to your own hobbies and the little world you created for yourself in a city as big and busy as New York. You showed him the more lowkey but homely establishments, including your favourite pizza place that - unbeknown to you at the time - would become yours and his, and even took him to a few student bars where you regularly beat him at pool while he showed off at darts. Occasionally, it felt weird to watch him unwind in such…normal places and ways while on other days, he shone on ice and was easily one of the best rookies emerging from one of the country’s most well known sports leagues. Yet despite that, you found that athlete Mat wasn’t all that different from Mat the person.

He never put a front and his genuine manner was refreshing to you, particularly during a time when you were still a college student and a good portion of the guys around were textbook frat boys. Being around Mat was comfortable and safe. You didn’t feel the need to speak a certain way or be a different person, and retrospectively, the way you felt towards him developed almost organically. You felt yourself gravitating towards him and were pleasantly surprised by the moments when he’d seek you out first. A day off here and a day off there until eventually, you found yourself spending much of your free time with him and vice-versa. 

Falling in love with Mat was easy. Being without Mat was difficult. But, thankfully, not impossible apparently. 

Convinced you packed everything you needed, made your way out with a duffle bag on your shoulder and a suitcase at your heels. 

True to his word, Mat was parked in front of your place and as soon as you pushed open the building’s door, he looked up from his phone and made his way over to you. The last thing you needed was to make the journey any more awkward or difficult for the both of you, so you didn’t argue when he took the bags from you to stow them away in the trunk. 

“Are you going across the country?” You ask, peeking into the trunk while he plays Tetris with the bags. 

“What?” He questions, evidently distracted by the task at hand but straightens up when you delicately place a hand on his arm, pushing him to the side a little. 

“You’d think you’re going across the country for like, two or three weeks rather than a couple of days,” you repeat. “Maybe put that smaller bag sideways? That might let the bigger suitcase fit.” 

He follows your guidance and sure enough, that does the trick: the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk and you grin to yourself, triumphant. 

Mat steps back, closing the trunk and brushes his hands together. “Thanks,” he says and you nod, heading towards your seat in the front. He follows you inside just as you click in your seatbelt. “I don’t think it’ll take us more than two or three hours to get there if traffic’s as good as it was when I checked it a little while earlier. Got everything?” 

“Everything important that is. Everything else, I’ll just worry about and pull my hair out when we get there,” you tell him and you can’t help feeling proud for being able to keep conversation light and as normal as you can. 

After all, you’ve known life before Mat and you’re rediscovering it after him too. 

Mat laughs ever so quiet, and from the corner of your eye, you catch him brushing his hand across his mouth though he’s a few seconds too slow in trying to mask his smile. 

“I think I’ll need to fill up soon, but let me know if there’s anywhere else you want to stop along the way,” he tells you while pulling out of the parking spot. 

You nod even if he probably might not see it and take the liberty to scroll through radio stations. Mat doesn’t seem to be against it, so you continue switching to them until, a little frustrating that nothing seems to work for you, you connect your phone to the car and play one of your playlists. A mix of upbeat pop and an assortment of viral tracks fill in the silence for a while, and the act of singing along in your head takes your mind away from how it almost feels as if you’re sitting on needles. It takes a conscious effort on your behalf to remind yourself to loosen your shoulders and stop fiddling too much with your hands, and you’re glad Mat seems to be plenty preoccupied with driving. Once upon a time, he would’ve immediately picked up on even the most mild of your discomforts and tried to do anything he could to alleviate them. You don’t know how much, if at all, Mat changed during the time you spent apart but you want to think that you no longer wear your heart on your sleeve as much and your emotions are much more guarded, especially in his presence. 

Apparently, though, there’s only so much he can take with silence filled in by music because once he’s off busier streets, he leans in his seat more comfortably and you can tell he very briefly turns his head towards you. “Think they’ll like their wedding gift?” 

You direct your gaze away from the flashing scenery outside to Mat. “Absolutely. Who wouldn’t like it? Trust me when I say Bali’s been a place Elise always wanted to visit and I can’t think of a better time than now,” you assure him.

“If they don’t, it’s on you,” he says and it takes you a beat longer to realise he’s just joking so you huff out a laugh, relaxing back in the seat. 

“If they don’t, they can give one of the tickets to me and I’ll happily go there.” You cast a glare out at the scenery ahead, eyes narrowing upwards towards the overcast sky. “I don’t think summer will ever come at this rate. I’m starting to hate it here.”

“Doubt Baltimore was any better,” Mat points out.

“Hardly,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll ask them to send me to Miami instead. That’d be much better.” 

Mat clears his throat quickly, shifting a little. “So, are you planning on going back to Baltimore or... Why are you back?” You catch sight of the frown forming on his face, and he quickly shakes his head as if trying to rid the hint of accusation from his voice. “That sounded wrong, sorry. But just genuinely curious. I thought a permanent move was on the table?”

“It was. Still is, but they needed me back here to wrap up a project. It was a pretty bad move on their behalf to send me there before we had that wrapped up nice and neat, bow and all, but I guess…” You trail off, shrugging a shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what’s next after that. They do want me back there, though. It just depends how long it takes for things here to fall into place.” 

“Fair enough.” Another pause, another moment for him to press his lips together in silent deliberation. He did that often, and you wonder if that remains a habit still. “Was it a promotion? I forgot, sorry.” 

“All good,” you assure, brushing off the apology. “Not a promotion per se, but a sidestep with just a slightly bigger paycheck. The office there is a bit smaller than the New York one so maybe there’s a higher chance of getting promoted sooner, but I don’t want to jump the gun on that yet. How did things work out for you guys this season?” 

The Islanders had a good season, making the playoffs but fell just short of making the semi-finals, you knew that. After all, you hadn’t removed the Islanders game and news alerts from your phone and you put that on your laziness. You wouldn’t shy away from admitting to him you still followed the team’s progression, but you preferred not to. 

“Could’ve been better but there’s lots to learn from it,” Mat tells you and there’s a trace of excitement and determination in his voice. “Next season will be even better, I guarantee.” 

It’s a staple Mat response, one he always gave if he felt a game didn’t end in their favour or he didn’t do as much as he thought he should have. Sometimes, it took him some time to accept it. Usually, it came to him after pushing himself in training, after going that extra step in the gym, after re-watching highlights or coach videos and always - always, you’d assure him that it takes a team to move forward, not a single person. Always, he’d kiss you and tell you he loves you and always, you’d spend those moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, more often than not with Mat’s head resting against your chest and your leg slung around his hip. 

“Plenty of time to lift that cup, Barzal,” you assure him. “Sure, the sooner the better but there’s always a right time for everything.”

“I hope so,” he agrees pensively, and lingers on that thought. 

You let him to it, directing your attention back to the view outside and only now and then picking up your phone either to switch songs or browse through a few applications. A part of you feels almost obliged to try and push for conversation but you avoid doing so. The last thing you need is to make it painfully awkward for the two of you and you figure Mat could always do that himself if he feels like it. So, you let your mind wander to better things - to the upcoming rehearsal and the wedding itself, to how good Elise will look and how Tito will be so proud to watch her walk the aisle towards him. You imagine their reaction to the gift you and Mat contributed towards and smiled to yourself, knowing it was a perfect pick for them both. 

You don’t think about telling Elise you and Mat had lied to them. You don’t think about passing this hurdle - the final one before you two will become strangers to one another. You don’t think about how the next time you might both see each other again, you’ll both have such different lives that for a brief moment, the surprise of it will knock the air out of your lungs before you remember: that’s him without me, and this is me without him. And you won’t be the first or the last people to break up, but a part of you is certain what the two of you had was unique and could’ve been grand. So much grander.

You become more alert to your surroundings when he starts slowing the car and you notice you’re pulling up into a gas station. As much as space allows you, you stretch out a little and Mat stops right by one of the pumps.

“Want something for the road?” You ask him, unplugging your phone and taking your card from your bag. 

“Hold on, I’ll come with you,” Mat tells you and it doesn’t take long for the refill to happen before you both walk into the station’s store, beelining for the snack aisles even if you have only two hours or so until you reach your destination. 

“Oh gosh, those are going to be a nightmare to clean up if you spill any in the car,” you groan quietly as he browses through the variety of Nerds flavours. 

“But they’re so good though,” he shoots back and flashes a smile that is nothing short of sly when he picks up two boxes instead of one. 

“Yeah, until the flavour runs out literally two seconds after you put them in your mouth. I mean, enjoy that but I’m different,” you boast and pick up a bag of sour candy. 

“You just like obliterating your taste buds.” 

He’s not wrong. Sour candy and spicy foods are your guilty pleasures, and have been for the longest time. You don’t try to look into how easily he recalls that because, you tell yourself, there’s nothing to look into. It’s a mere fact that anyone who knows you would easily recite. 

“You’re wrong and you know it, but admitting that is difficult so it’s fine, Barzal. No hard feelings,” you throw back, snickering as you head over to the fridges for a bottle of cold water. Instinctively, you grab another for him and instinctively, he takes your candy and the water to pay for them but you still tag along with him in the queue. 

“No shot. I like some spice but to the point where I literally can’t taste anything else? Hey, remember that one time when you made something… Can’t remember what it was but it was so…” He purses his lips and you laugh because yes, yes you remember it so clearly. 

“So good you ended up crying over it?” You offer. 

“More like, I wasn’t crying but it was so fucking spicy, Y/N, holy.” 

“You survived though, didn’t you?”

“I only did because there isn’t a thing you do I don’t like,” he says and then, seems to catch himself but a second too late. “Didn’t like,” he corrects quietly but the damage is done. 

You swallow uncomfortably, directing your gaze away from him but don’t hesitate to nod towards the outside. “I’ll head over to the car. I’ll text Elise to tell her we’re close.” 

“Y/N—“ 

But you’re already taking steps towards the exit and out of ear shot, making a beeline for the car. Your heart thumps rapidly and uncomfortable in your chest and find that pressing a palm to your left side doesn’t make it any better. You know it’s an innocent mistake and there are some habits that die hard, but the way he phrased it triggered your fight or flight instinct instantaneously and despite yourself, you leaned towards the latter. You enter the car and take the time to compose yourself as much as you could. The last thing you need is to have a conversation with Mat about this because you didn’t want to have it - it shouldn’t happen for the sake of avoiding making the situation even more uncomfortable. It was an innocent slip up, no doubt, and you should’ve braced yourself to speak of Mat in present tense as opposed to past tense in the presence of others but it comes to you harder than imagined. 

It’s odd how you both once knew so much about each other, everything even, and now the two of you are reduced to dancing around all that and making conscious efforts to keep your conversations as short and banal as possible. 

You try and busy yourself with formulating a message to Ellie, one that’s long enough to try and make you seem as busy as possible by the time Mat returns to the car, but every line you wrote, every mini paragraph going into dull details about the trip and where you guys currently are seemed like an overthrow. So, you delete that also and simply text her an OTW just as Mat sets the sweets on the centre console and the bottles in the cup holders. 

He doesn’t start the engine immediately and your mood quickly switches to frustration. Sure, you hadn’t handled it in the best way possible but trying to have a conversation about it wouldn’t make it any better. Or at least, it’s just something you didn’t want to have to think about for the remainder of the journey. 

But he does just that, because that is what Mat always did: he talked with you.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he begins, “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. It’s force of habit more than anything else.”

“It’s whatever, Mat, so just move past it. I did, simple as that,” you tell him neutrally. 

There’s something in that response he must have not liked because you pick up on his small huff and shortly after, the car starts and you’re both on the road again. This time, with silence between you and an atmosphere so heavy it makes you wish you weren’t speeding down an Interstate just so you could open the window and let some of the air in.

-

The hotel the wedding will be held at lies in front of you, sprawling and secluded and perfect for an event like this. Tito is already at the entrance and when he spots Mat’s car, he waves quickly while Mat quickly flashes the headlights before pulling into an available parking spot.

“There they are!” Tito says by way of greeting and you walk right into his outstretched arms, hugging him. “Can’t believe so much time passed since we last saw each other. What is it, two months? Three?” 

“Three,” you confirm once you pull away so that Mat could hug him also. “It’s good to see you too. Where’s Elise?” 

“She wanted to check on some small details and said she’ll meet up with you guys in a bit. So here I am, the welcoming committee,” Tito explained and when he and Mat stepped apart, he reached out to give you another short hug which you accepted. “So how was Baltimore? Don’t suppose you liked it all that much if you’re back so soon. This guy was happy about it,” Tito adds, nodding his head towards Mat who was already busy emptying the trunk. 

You press your lips together, displaying a small smile. “Baltimore wasn’t too bad but they missed me here, apparently. Can’t complete a damn thing without my two cents so here I am for now.”

Tito frowns, but the expression is very brief. “For now? We’ll need to talk more about that later so Barzy doesn’t mope around as much as he did back then.”

You throw a quick glance towards Mat but he’s looking away towards whatever interesting spot on the ground he found, pointedly ignoring you. “I’ll have a word with him about it later,” you tell Tito lightly and together, the three of you make your way inside, towards the reception. 

“I think Elise is in the room at the end of the corridor if you want to say hi,” Tito informs you and you jump at the opportunity. 

You follow the corridor, making a right turn and continuing along the dimly lit hallway leading to what the signs informed you to be Conference Room 1. The door is slightly ajar and you begin picking up on the buzz of activity coming from within and soon enough, you’re face to face with a spacey room boasting an array of flowers and various arrangements tastefully decorating tables and drooping down from the ceiling. No doubt, the effect will be lovely during the night when colourful neon lights can be turned on. You spot Elise easily: she’s in the midst of the room with what is undoubtedly the scrapbook of ideas she’d been carefully putting together since Tito asked her to marry him. Outwardly, she’s all smiles and laughter but you can imagine the amount of effort and planning putting all of this together and working with planners takes. 

When she spots you, she squeals in excitement, sets her book down and dashes across the room to engulf you in a hug, making you stumble a few steps back. 

You burst into laughter and wrap your arms around her, squeezing her with just enough force to try and communicate how much you missed her but not so that it was uncomfortable. 

“I missed you! You’re here!” She exclaims, stepping back to look at you in disbelief then hugging you again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy you’re here! Where’s Mat? Is he here too?”

“Of course he is,” you assure her with a laugh. “I missed you too.” You throw a curious glance towards the room over her shoulder, nodding your head towards it. “How’s it going? Need me to take over for a bit?” 

“Maybe later. Definitely later. Come on.” She wraps an arm around yours and leads the way out of the room, undoubtedly back to the reception area where you left Mat and Tito. “Please tell me Baltimore is off the table. FaceTime is fine, sure, but it’s not great, you know? I need the real deal next to me. Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but Mat wasn’t Mat without you.”

“So I heard, but forget about us!” You said in a desperate attempt to try and steer attention away from the subject. “Tell me about how everything’s going. Are you still nervous about it? Because trust me, Elise - you have absolutely nothing to be nervous of. What I’ve heard of so far and what I’ve seen will make it the absolute best day, surely.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she tells you and to demonstrate, she holds her free hand in front of you and sure enough, there’s just a slight tremble to it. “Please lend me some of those nerves of steel of yours, Y/N, I’d do anything to have even a small percentage of them right now.”

“Pft, as if. Those are all show, trust me.” 

“I’ll take even that. Oh, Mat!” She greets as soon as the two of you reach the reception area and Elise spots Mat.

Much like you and Tito, they hug and when she steps back, she immediately stands next to Tito who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They exchange a quick kiss and you smile at the happiness and bliss they’re clearly surrounded by. 

It’s the slight pressure on your lower back that makes you jolt a little on the spot and it’s then you realise Mat had gently placed his hand there to encourage you a little closer. It takes effort on your behalf to follow his guidance but you move towards him, though you wish you could physically wince at how undoubtedly stiff the two of you must look. Or hopefully, not greatly so because neither Tito nor Elise comment on it or shoot you any funny looks as the four of you engage in brief conversation, mainly surrounding the trip here and any other guests they expect to receive today. 

You don’t hang around much, though. Elise’s phone begins buzzing incessantly and she’s whisked away by the message received, but not before she fixes you with a pointed stare and demands the two of you have drinks later in the evening. Tito follows her also, even if he informs you and Mat that he feels as if he’s running around in the right places only because of Elise and the wedding planners, but you encourage him on by joking he could maybe turn a few candles on the tables this way or that for some extra oomph. 

“I can’t imagine how she does it,” you admit to Mat once the elevator doors slide shut soundlessly and the car begins moving upwards to your floor.

“Pretty sure it’s not that big of a deal to her, given what all this is leading to,” Mat tells you and you detect a hint of detachment in his voice. 

You don’t welcome it, of course you don’t, but you choose to not point that out to him. The last thing you want is an argument to break out the relatively okay mood the two of you have managed to hold, recent events that could be erased from memory aside. Instead, you simply stand back quietly, eyes glued on the red digital numbers aside until they come to a halt on the ninth floor where the elevator stops and you’re both left in a silent, dimly lit hallway. 

Mat has the key to the apartment Elise told you the two of you would be in and just before tapping in, he hands you your own copy of it. Up until this very moment, you hadn’t thought very much of the overnight arrangements. You were pretty sure you meant to ask Elise a bit more about them at some point but both your attention and hers were pulled in different directions and here you were, stepping into your place for the next couple of nights, Mat trailing a little behind you. 

You stop, arms folding across your chest and you feel Mat stop somewhere close behind you, looking into one room.

“I didn’t think this through,” you state neutrally. 

Ahead of you lay only one bed. 

[vendettaparker]

Talking to the Moon [P.P]

Summary: When Peter’s identity is leaked, he is forced to leave you and his old life behind, shattering your heart in the process. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: ANGST, like straight up rip your heart out. Far From Home spoiler (kinda), Endgame spoiler (kinda)

a/n: so if you couldn’t tell this is based off of the song ‘Talking to the Moon’ by Bruno Mars. its a loose interpretation. i’ve been planning an angsty fic like this for a while. angst is my favorite genre of fic, especially when it has a hopeful or fluffy ending. so this one DOES have a hopeful ending and potential for a sequel,, so yuh, enjoy! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Three years, two months, and 14 days. That’s how long it had been since Peter’s identity was leaked. That’s how long it had been since he left you. For good. 

     Peter had been frantic after that news broadcast aired. He webbed back to the compound immediately, crying the whole way. He was scared for himself, sure, but the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach for May, Ned, MJ, you. That was the reason for his tears now. He could hardly breathe by the time he made it to the compound. Happy, Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky meeting him as he burst through the large floor to wall windows in the main room. The frantic yelling, pleas, and cries coming from the main room were what alerted you to his presence. When you walked in he was a mess. Crying, heaving with anxiety about how scared he was. Peter had always been a sensitive, emotional boy, but he always got over his shit eventually. But this? This, seemed like the end for him. 

     You ran up to him, shushing him and holding him. Trying to tell him to simply “breathe”. All he could say, over and over again like a mantra was a schloo of “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your heart broke. How could fate be so cruel to the sweetest boy? The one who was the most deserving of all the happiness life could possibly offer. The rest of the team had shown up within the next hour. Happy, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, and Pepper also present. Peter had calmed down slightly, but he knew, he just knew, this was the day he had to say goodbye. He had had this talk with Mr. Stark back when he had stopped his first villain, Vulture. Tony knew the type of sick monsters out there who would love to get their hands on the boy behind the Spider-man mask. He and Peter had developed a plan in the tragic case that Peter’s identity should be released, at least, not on his own terms. Tony’s plan was for Peter to run away. Leave. Take nothing with him but the clothes on his back, and even then burn those clothes the minute he could. Tony knew. He knew these dangers. And worse, he knew the consequences. 

     May had come to the compound the second she got the call. She knew as well. Peter knew. She knew. Tony, even in his grave, knew. Everyone knew. Everyone but you. 

     Peter had a getaway car and a destination ready within another hour. He wouldn’t disclose it to anyone. He took you aside, gently stroking your cheek to wipe the hot tears that never seemed to cease. “Hey, hey, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.” He whispered, choking up on every other word, trying to be stronger, just a little stronger, for you. “I have to go now. I’m so so sorry. I love you so much.”

     “It’s okay Peter,” You sniffled, pushing his bangs back and giving him a sad smile. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t worry.” 

     Peter’s lips quivered and he heaved another sob. “No, (Y/N). I-I’m not coming back.” You took your hand back as you felt the pressure of tears building behind your eyes. 

     “W-what? No, this—it’s just temporary. Until we can—Fury and Pepper—We can fix this.” You stuttered anxiously, hoping your words would convince him that this was okay. That everything would be okay. 

     “We can’t, (Y/N). It’s done.” Peter spoke, his voice hardly making it to a whisper. 

     “No!” You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to hold him closer. “Please. Please. Please. I-I can’t! You can’t! I—You’re all I have!” You were sobbing uncontrollably now. The weight of the situation finally caving in and crushing your heart and soul. “Please! I’ll do anything, I’ll protect you! Please!” 

     Your meltdown didn’t help Peter one bit, if anything, seeing how desperate you were to keep hold of him, to just love him; that broke him more. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. Please.”

     “How can I? You’re killing me.” You whimpered into his chest, tears soaking through his black sweatshirt. “I can’t— I just— I can’t!”

     The whole team heard. No walls were thick enough to block out the heartbroken sobs from the two teenagers in love. Fury was the one to finally bring an end to it. Nobody else having the heart to pry you from each other. Even Fury felt his own stoic exterior cracking. 

     You were in hysterics, clawing, and grabbing at Peter’s sweatshirt, hair, face, anything you could grab. It didn’t matter if you hurt him at this point, he’d heal. But if he left you, you knew you’d never recover. Fury had put you in a chokehold while yanking you back. Peter just heaved and heaved, his sobs getting louder and his chest getting tighter. May rushed over to him and took his hand, placing his head in her chest. 

     Fury yanked you back more, but you still refused to quit. Fury released his chokehold, not wanting to do any real damage to you. Right as you were released, Wanda came up behind you and placed her hands on your head, red magic already starting to swirl. 

     “No, please.” You wheezed, trying to get a fresh breath of air. “He’s all I have.”

     Wanda looked at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m so sorry.”

     Without so much as a flick of her wrist, you were out, descending into darkness. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter left after that. The car taking him away, and you hadn’t seen him since. As the months went on you never really recovered. Never really felt whole again. You just survived. That was all. You went through the motions of everyday life, but never truly felt like you were living. Two weeks after Peter left, May left with Happy. They moved to California, living there ever since as well. They got married last year. You were all invited and everyone went. Everyone but you. You missed May and Happy, but it still hurt. Plus, you were busy anyway. After you graduated high school, you flung yourself into the avenger lifestyle, fully immersing yourself in it. You went on every mission possible. Did all the paperwork you could. You did anything and everything you could to keep yourself busy. Stop yourself from feeling the pain that had stopped feeling like a searing stab and had now turned into a dull ache. A new constant in your life. 

     Nights were the worst though. The only time you couldn’t be constantly avenging or working yourself to the bone on new suit technology. The only time you had to think and feel. The only thing keeping you going was the hope that Peter was still out there. Somewhere, anywhere, missing you as much as you were missing him. Watching the same moon you watched. Basking in the same sun that shined on you every day. Every horrible, miserable day. 

     “(Y/N)?” the quiet, soft voice of Pepper breaking you out of your headspace. You hummed a response and looked up at her, waiting for her to continue. “Did you hear what I said?”

     “No, sorry.” You responded sheepishly. Pepper’s gaze softened. She took in your lean figure and pale face, eyes seeming to be sunken in from the dark circles. “I was just finishing up this briefing of my last mission.” 

     “You went alone?” Pepper asked, concern washing over her features.

     “It was a simple one. Just took out a mob, was done in like, four hours.” 

      Pepper sighed. “(Y/N)—”

     “Pep, it’s fine. It was so easy, anyone could have done it.” You cut her off, turning back to your laptop, typing away. 

     “It’s not just that though. It’s all of this. This whole funk you’re in. The same one you’ve been in for years, (Y/N).” Pepper waved her hands around to emphasize her point. “We all see it. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. He wouldn’t want this.” 

     Your whole demeanor changed. The solemn, yet calm veneer breaking. “It doesn’t matter what he wants, Pepper! I didn’t want this. All I wanted was him. For the rest of my life. Nothing else would matter, as long as I had him to get me through it. But I don’t have him. I have nothing. He was it for me. He—” You sobbed, tears finally running down your face in an uncontrollable waterfall. “I feel like I died. Like I am just a spectator, no longer doing anything of interest to myself.” 

     Pepper pulled you into her so fast. She was always quick to console you. The months after Peter left she was the only one you could stomach seeing. “It’s okay. I know, shh, I know.” Pepper was tearing up now too. She knew you never got over it. But now seeing with her own eyes how broken you’d really become. The reality hurt. “He’s out there, okay? And it’s going to be okay. He’s okay. We’re okay.” 

     You just cried. That’s all you could do. The more you tried to talk about it the stronger the urge to cry was. Pepper just hummed and held you. Stroking your hair until you fell asleep. 

     When you woke up you were in your room. It was dark and the moon was shining through the opened window. You just stared at it, closing your eyes and imagining Peter was staring at it too. The same one. Thinking about you, just like you were thinking about him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Another few weeks went by. The same routine, the same empty feeling consistent in your body. Nothing changed. The revelation that you were, in fact, not okay didn’t fix anything. It still hurt. You were still broken.

     You were in the training room, sparring with Wanda when the melodic tune of your ringtone rang through the gym, echoing off the walls. You put your hands up in defense to stop Wanda from continuing the match. Wanda whipped her hands around and brought your phone to you in a wisp of red magic. 

     “Thanks.” You mumbled, wiping your sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand and taking the phone from the air. Wanda nodded and jumped out of the ring to grab her water bottle. 

     You looked at your phone still ringing, seeing an unfamiliar number, but taking in the location: Budapest, Hungary. You answered the call bringing the phone up to your ear “Hello?” You asked, shifting from one foot to the other waiting for a reply. A beat of silence pasted before you heard a tired, yet all too familiar voice on the other end. 

     “(Y/N)?”

[tomtenadia]

Remember Us - part 1

Here I am with a new Rowaelin. This will be a much shorter than ALB both in chapter length and story length. The idea came to me while on the bus home after work. It’s angsty,

A special thank you to @whimsicallyreading for being my wonderful beta <3

------

Rowan is involved in a motorbike accident while on his way to work. A crash that will have some consequences on his marriage with Aelin when he realises that he has lost his memory. Day by day they will have to find their way back to each other and and survive the challenges that life throws at them. 

-----

When the silver haired man opened his eyes it took him a moment for his vision to focus and take in his surroundings. The walls around him were a pale beige colour and the smell of disinfectant was the first thing that hit his senses. In the background there was a steady beeping sound and when he moved his head towards it he saw a machine tracking his heart rate. Hospital. He was in a hospital. A couple of bags with liquids were hanging from hooks at his side and the long plastic tubes ran to his hand. Another gentle motion of his head and he saw his right arm in a splint and his right leg propped up and enveloped in a protective support.

The man pushed his head back in the pillow and groaned. He was in an hospital. And slowly he realised that’s all he knew. His mind felt empty as he tried to think about how he got there. But nothing. There was nothing. He closed his eyes and blackness hit him. He clearly broke his arm and his leg, but how it happened? He had no idea. Slowly he realised that all his memories had started from the instant he woke up. That was all he had and a wave of panic hit him.

In that instant a nurse walked into the room to check on him “Oh, Mr Whitethorn, you finally decided to join us. How do you feel?”

“Whitethorn?” His voice gruff.

“Yes, that’s your surname.”

The man looked at her with a confused stare.

“Do you know where you are? What day it is? Your name?”

The man shook his head “but from the fancy machines and your attire I guess I am in hospital.” He managed to utter, his throat feeling scratchy from disuse. How long had he been asleep?

“Let me go and call the doctor.” And she hurried out of the room.

Whitethorn, his surname was Whitethorn. That was a start.

A moment later a woman entered the room “good morning you. Glad that you could finally join us.” She smiled at him and checked a few things. The doctor flashed a penlight in his eyes then held a finger in front of him “follow this.” She moved the finger from left to right and back and he followed it with his eyes.

“So, the nurse said you don’t remember much.” She straightened her back and saw her write some notes on his chart. 

“I can’t…” he whispered “why am I in hospital?”

“Your name is Rowan Whitethorn. A month ago you had a motorbike accident on your way to work. You have been in a coma ever since. You had a helmet on but still sustained some serious head injuries and you are now experiencing amnesia. It will be temporary and the memories will eventually come back.”

Rowan closed his eyes, he had a name now, another small piece to add to the infinite puzzle in front of him.

“I will schedule another MRI to check your progress since surgery. Now rest, I will get in touch with your wife and let her know that you are awake.” And the doctor left.

Wife. He had a wife. He was married and his name was Rowan and he had an accident.

*

Aelin left the OR exhausted. The last surgery had lasted for hours but she had saved a kid’s life. She threw her OR scrubs in the trash and walked back to her office, looking forward to sit down on her chair for half an hour at least. Her back was killing her and she definitely dreamed about a back rub in that moment. But her plans were thwarted when she got a page from doctor Westfall. Rowan was awake. He was finally awake. She told the nurses she was going to the neurology ward and that she had her pager on if they needed her and she ran to the elevator.

Once on the correct floor, she stopped. She had been waiting for that moment for a whole month and now she was scared. She was a neurosurgeon as well and, although she was a paediatric one, she knew what his injuries might cause. She spotted Yrene in the corridor and ran to her in a frenzy “Yrene, I got your page.”

“He is awake,” said the brunette “his functions are okay but he is has amnesia. We talked about the possibility.” She explained and Aelin nodded “I have ordered another MRI and I will have a better idea after.”

“Can I go in?”

“Yes, but remember that he might not know who you are.” And she patted Aelin’s shoulder in support.

Aelin nodded and pushed back the tears that had been forming at the corner of her eyes.

Rowan was awake. She had awaited that news for the last month but the happiness in her soul was shackled by fear. Deep unyielding fear. She might have him back but at what price? She knew that the type of injuries he had suffered could affect the memory. As a doctor she was prepared to face it, but as his wife, she could feel her heart aching at the possibility of being a stranger to the man who held her heart. Of him not recognising their children. With a deep breath she steadied her nerves and eventually she opened the door to his room. She had been waiting for that moment for so long, for the day she would go inside and find him awake, his pine green eyes on her once again.

A step inside and her hand went instinctively on her belly over her scrubs where her bump had barely started to show.

“Rowan…”

*

“Rowan…”

A female voice distracted him from his thoughts. He turned his head and saw a woman with golden hair and the most amazing blue eyes with a ring just as golden as her hair. She wore scrubs, probably another doctor checking up on him. But the way she had said his name was different from how doctor Westfall had said it.

She was stunning. That much he could admit.

“Ro…” she said it with a soft tone and moved a step toward him and he had a feeling she was not just a regular doctor checking on him. Why was she crying? Then his eyes moved to her left hand on her stomach and spotted a ring. He looked at his left hand and saw a matching one on his fourth finger.

His breath hitched at the realisation. The doctor had mentioned a wife. Was it her? Panic rose in him. He was not ready.

“Who are you?”

“Aelin. My name is Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius.”

Rowan froze. That was his surname and she had used it with what was possibly hers. The woman never moved from her spot. She just stood there staring at him, her blue eyes on him and he had no idea how to react. This woman was apparently his wife. What could he say to her?

“I am Rowan.” He said feeling stupid. She knew already but in that moment was all he could say.

“I know.” She whispered, finally moving a step in his direction “I have known your name for a very long time.”

“I don’t know you.” He admitted feeling his chest tighten.

“I know.” She sat on the chair beside his bed “I know. Amnesia will be temporary. It will slowly start to come back to you. You just need to be patient. Both of us.”

He looked at her and something tugged in him. It was as if although his mind could not recognise the woman in front of him, his body could. It was a strange sensation. The sense of familiarity. His guts were telling him to trust that woman.

“We’ll face it together. To whatever end.”

He had no idea what she was talking about but he wanted to believe her.

“Do you want me to tell you something about us?”

Rowan nodded, eager to piece together some pieces of the mystery his life had become. How had he ended up with her?

Aelin’s hand caressed her stomach.

“We met at University of Terrasen. You were studying law and I was in med school. We had friends in common and I met you at a party and  I thought you were the most obnoxious and annoying man alive.” He heard her chuckle “until a year later when you brought me coffee in the library while I was cramming hard during an exhausting exam session. Then you brought me cake and slowly I realised you were not that annoying.” She continued her tale while her hand gently brushed the tip of his fingers.

“You kept me company and studied with me while I was rambling on medical terms, procedures and other crazy stuff.” He heard her sob “and then we both realised our feeling had changed. We dated. A year later we moved in together. Once we graduated you proposed to me. We got married.” Aelin stood and paced and a ragged sigh left her mouth “after a lot of heartbreak and miscarriages we had our little boy Thomas. A year and a half later Freyja came along as well.” 

Rowan gasped. They had kids. He was married to this woman and they had a family and he could not remember any of that.

“Stop.” He said in a harsher tone than intended “This is too much.”

His wife sat back down and her puffy eyes broke his heart. How was it possible that he felt so heartbroken for a woman he had just met?

Except he didn’t. They had been together for a long time and that feeling of familiarity came back to hit him like a sledgehammer.

“I need to be alone.” He said, turning his head and heard her sob loudly and felt the urge to reach out to her. But he fought it.

He needed space.

“I have to go back anyway.” She stood and pressed a kiss on his head “I will see you later.” And left the room.

Rowan threw his head in the pillow and felt his eyes swell with tears. Why was he crying? Why sending that woman away hurt that much? No, not just that woman. His wife. He had a family, a wife and two kids and all of it felt overwhelming.

He wanted to know more, but at the same time he was scared. What if turned out he hated the life he had? Until his memories started to return he had to trust her. Believe that he had chosen that life.

He sighed and his thought kept going back to Aelin.

Eventually he fell asleep with the smell of lemon and verbena still tingling his nostrils.

Aelin quickly went back to her office, locked the door and collapsed on her chair. And cried. She knew it was a possibility. She had discussed it with Yrene after his surgery. She had been preparing herself for the last month but it turned out she had not been as ready as she made herself believe. In that room she had been a stranger to Rowan. Their kids were strangers to their father and she could not tell him again that another baby was on its way. It would have been too much. 

She cried, remembering how happy Rowan had been when, two months before, she told him she was pregnant again. 

They wanted a big family. They both had good jobs and could afford it. After years of loss they finally had their dream. And then that blasted accident happened. The car driver had hit Rowan and her life was suddenly plunged into hell.

A hell in which for a month she had to tell their kids why dad was not home yet. Console them when they could not play with their dad or have him read stories before bed. Her mum had been helping her looking after the kids while she was at work. But they missed their dad. Freyja especially who was his exact copy and not just physically.

Her sobs grew in intensity. 

She missed her husband too. Her heart ached for him. For the comfort she would find in his arms after a bad day at work. 

Her pager went off and Aelin quickly brushed her eyes and cleared away the tears and left her office in a rush.

She could hide her pain into work. Pretend, for a few hours, that she was not living in a nightmare. That her life with Rowan had not been put on hold. 

For a few hours, inside that OR she could just be Aelin.

[slightlycrunchy]

pre-slash geraskier, angst with happy ending, whump, bodyswap, hc

1800 words

Enjoy!

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

“Dammit Jaskier, did you really have to call her that—“

Geralt stops mid-sentence, hand flying up to his own throat to stop the sound that has come from his mouth. He’s panting slightly, the witch having thrown them through a shoddy excuse for a portal into some endless partition of wilderness.

It looks like Velen. He’s sure it’s Velen.

His fingers crawl up his throat to his face, feeling slight stubble instead of the beard Geralt has grown over their weeks on the Path, which blankets a thinner face than Geralt is accustomed to. He looks down, expecting to see leather armor covering black cloth, the straps that cross his chest to hold his swords at his back, only to see silk; red, and gleaming with gold stitching across his torso.

Jaskier’s favorite.

He curses inwardly, kicks himself mentally for bringing the damn bard along. Of course he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, of course just as Geralt had finished his business with her and was accepting payment the foppish dandy had to go run his mouth.

“My dear, I thought witches could keep themselves young forever, and well, I think we can all see that maybe you aren’t as powerful as you try to appear—“

The bard had got no further than that. Witches and mages have notoriously short tempers and Jaskier knows this—and yet, here they are.

Thrown away like refuse and trapped in each others’ bodies.

Geralt can feel the snarl on his lips and it feels entirely wrong, the shape of his mouth pulling where usually it would not. He feels small and light, where usually the bulk of his own muscle would weigh him down at every turn, and as he lifts his hand to marvel at the foreign sensations, he gapes at his long and slender fingers.

Geralt has always felt…something about Jaskier’s hands, something he struggles to name. Sometimes he thinks it admiration—for their ability and their elegance. Where Geralt’s are toughened by hard labor and age, Jaskier’s have always been the complete opposite.

Geralt has held them, a time or two, and the almost feminine quality to them is a novelty. He looks at them now, controlling them as he clenches and spreads them, flipping them over to see unblemished skin and pale knuckles. He’s so engrossed for a moment that the rest isn’t noticed immediately.

Silence.

Pure, blessed silence.

It surrounds him, like a cocoon, like thick wool wrapped up to his ears in softness and calm. Geralt has lost his age—he stopped caring decades ago, after all, the information does him no good—but he knows he’s over a century by now, and yet he can’t remember the last time he felt like this. A time when every snap of a twig or breath of the people around him could be heard and analyzed for danger. Hypervigilance. Always, always Geralt is ready. For his next fight, his next job, the next time he must defend himself from the world that dislikes him for no good reason. His time before the trials is blurry at best, forgotten at worst, and he decides right now that this is the most peace he’s ever felt.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

“Ger-Geralt,” Jaskier gasps as he falls to his knees inside a witcher’s body.

It’s strange hearing his own voice sound so vulnerable, broken, breathy and quiet as he rushes to Jaskier’s side while the bard’s chest—his own chest—rises and falls rapidly. The comfortable silence inside his mind is restless now; Jaskier’s suffering is loud and insistent in an intangible way. It always has been.

“It burns Geralt—“ Jaskier bites out between clenched teeth, canines long and conspicuous. It’s strange seeing his own body like this, housing Jaskier’s soul, his very being. It clenches something in Geralt’s chest that he has not time to name.

“Jaskier, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Had the witch done something else to him? In her anger had she cursed the bard, hurt him in some other way? He can’t smell blood—but then again he wouldn’t be able to now, would he?

Jaskier’s body is heaving, on his knees and doubled over like some wounded thing. Geralt can see tears fall and hit the dirt, nails scrabbling for purchase at Geralt’s borrowed forearm, nearly tearing at the thick fabric of Jaskier’s frivolous doublet.

“My head, it’s exploding— It’s too much— How do you…” Jaskier starts and stops and slowly, in horror, the reality washes over Geralt.

While Geralt enjoys his first peace in an era, Jaskier has been dropped into a pit of torture.

Immediately Geralt places slender hands over Jaskier’s ears, attempting to muffle the onslaught of sensation that he must feel. Every sound, every vibration must be pounding at Jaskier’s head, wave after wave of movement, life, the earth shoving its way into Jaskier’s consciousness.

Jaskier’s golden eyes connect with Geralt’s borrowed blue, wide and wet, before he promptly turns and vomits onto the ground.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry, I’m sorry just—hold on.”

He doesn’t know what to do. They’re an unknown distance from the one who caused this—from relief—and yet Jaskier can hardly handle minutes of this. Jaskier chokes and spits, his entire body trembling under Geralt’s palms and the witcher can do nothing but stroke gentle thumbs over wet cheeks. It hurts him when Jaskier rises again, looking with pained eyes at Geralt. He doesn’t speak, Geralt isn’t sure if he really can, yet his eyes plead with Geralt to end it, please I can’t take it.

Geralt doesn’t know how he understands these words without hearing them, but they only drive the stake further into his heart.

Jaskier is suffering, and it’s Geralt’s fault.

He can remember, now especially, how those first weeks had been at Kaer Morhen after the trials were complete. Utter agony and sleepless nights as he withered away with the inability to keep anything down. Sound, feeling, pain overwhelming him constantly until his body could adjust. He remembers the fevers, Vesemir by his bedside with cool cloths and the kindest words he could remember hearing in recent memory.

He thought he would die.

“End it, please I don’t want to do this anymore—“

But he had survived…and somewhere along the way he had forgotten the beginning, the mutagens running through his veins like fire and adding to the never ending harshness of his new life. Now, however, he remembers in startling clarity.

Jaskier won’t survive this.

Geralt brings Jaskier to his smaller chest, forcing one ear against his rabbiting, human heart all while holding his hand closed over the other—acting as a beacon, a point of focus for Jaskier’s hearing that takes in everything around them. It won’t fix anything, but Geralt hopes it will help. Jaskier shivers, his breaths stuttered and sick, gasps taken between chattering teeth. Geralt knows his real body will be fine, it hasn’t stopped being a witcher’s after all, no matter who holds the reins, but Jaskier’s mind…humans were not built for this. They are fragile, temporary things.

Geralt feels panic bubble up within him and it is a sensation he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Geralt feels fear, contrary to popular belief, though not for himself. He has felt fear on behalf of others many times, but it is dull, manageable. He can easily breathe through it and tackle the situation at hand, the slow beat of his heart keeping the adrenaline from flooding his veins. But Jaskier’s body is mortal and weak in this regard, and he feels it slam into him, sharp and all encompassing as his stomach lurches when the bard falters beneath his palm, sagging with exhaustion so quickly that Geralt struggles to hold him up. Geralt’s borrowed muscles strain, but they hold; to be honest, Jaskier’s body is stronger than Geralt would have given him credit for.

He tightens his hold on the bard, and a thought suddenly occurs to him.

“Jaskier, you’re going to be alright, I want you to listen to my voice.”

Jaskier’s voice has always been calming to Geralt, and so he does the only thing he can think of: he talks.

About what, he doesn’t know; he certainly doesn’t have the wherewithal to make a coherent storyline, but he babbles all the same. He speaks of Roach and his contracts, his brothers and his childhood—the good parts that he remembers and his early days on the Path.

All the while he runs hands through white strands, putting a pleasant (he hopes) pressure against Jaskier’s scalp. He remembers Eskel doing this for him in those early days; it helped. He hopes it helps now.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there awkwardly upon the ground, Geralt’s untrained legs falling numb as his knees begin to ache. The time doesn’t matter, only keeping the pain at bay, the war against Jaskier’s fragile mind as it rages and slashes at the door.

Eventually Jaskier’s stamina gives out, and he falls, but only so far. Geralt catches him, and after folding his legs out from beneath him with a grimace, lays his actual body against his borrowed one, Jaskier’s head falling to the side in his unconsciousness. All the while long, slender fingers never stop carding through white strands.

Geralt lets the panic ebb away, having come up with a plan some time ago while holding Jaskier so close they practically felt like one. Jaskier’s bag lays to Geralt’s right, just at arms length and inside he knows the xenovox is cradled between extra pairs of garish clothing. When Geralt had remembered, he had never been so happy that Jaskier tended to keep his things on him rather than tied up with Roach.

Roach. With a sigh Geralt realizes he needs to find her too. Another thing to take care of after the witch.

He won’t forgive her for what she’s done.

With ginger movements so as to not wake the sleeping bard on his lap, he grabs the bag and soon finds what he is looking for. He savors the moment of quiet that has descended in Jaskier’s sleep, letting the panic and fear that tastes bitter on his tongue disappear into a practiced ease.

Yennefer will be annoyed with him, and once Geralt has gotten over what has just happened, he in turn will be annoyed with Jaskier. The bard got them into this mess after all. But as he looks down on Jaskier, his own sleeping form—a shudder going through him at the wrongness of it all—he decides perhaps not.

The bard has gone through enough, after all.

A voice comes over the device, slightly muffled and crackling, “Geralt?”

“Yen.”

“The bard? What are you doing with this, this wasn’t for your use.”

“Yen, it’s Geralt.”

Silence rests between them for a moment, the only sound Geralt hears with his human ears being the rustling of wind through the trees around him. He tries to savor it.

She sighs. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

He smiles.

[saphirered]

First times reader x Caleb widogast?

Here you go I hope you like these ☺️

The first time you met Caleb you were making some coin on the side as a temporary barkeep at the Lavish Chateau gathering funds to book passage on a ship when they entered. You paid little mind to this curious bunch but couldn’t help keep staring at the redheaded man in fine clothes. There was something… different about him. He caught you staring and you hoped the earth would swallow you whole then and there to spare you the embarrassment. Carlos, your boss didn’t help and even made you serve them. The redheaded man kept his eyes on you probably put off by the weirdo that couldn’t keep their eyes off him. You’d never hear the end of this. And though you were soon to see through his illusions it did not change your opinion. Little did you know meeting this intriguing man, Caleb Widogast would bring trouble to your life to the point you were on the run from the law. Should you be upset? Angry? Maybe but perhaps you should have worded it more carefully when you said you needed passage on a ship… 

The first time you spend time alone together the Mighty Nein dragged you in pirate trouble a plenty finding yourselves on a true pirate ship as a guests… More like prisoners and you knew better than to not be on guard. You slept with one eye open and a dagger under your pillow. Caleb seemed to feel the same, well save for the dagger part which left you both awake at the same time more often than not. You had some heart to hearts or at least as much as you both could muster. Speaking the truth without revealing anything of worth seemed to be a talent you both possessed but over time you grew more comfortable around each other. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you. Kindred souls destined for each other as Jester called it gushing over how you two would be perfect for each other but neither of you were ready for something beyond friendship. It was that first open and unfiltered conversation that kicked all of this off.

You tagged along with the Nein after their return to the mainland having grown accustomed to their company. You wouldn’t call yourself part of their group but you liked their company so you’ll stay until they grow sick of you or until your path takes you a in a different direction. On the road it was time to take watch. You were usually on duty with either Yasha when she was present or Caduceus but that night the Firbolg really deserved a full night of uninterrupted sleep so you and Caleb took watch together. It was cold and you were freezing. Even Caleb had trouble keeping warm so you suggested what you were taught; sticking close together wrapped up in your blankets and sleeping bag with a Frumpkin spread out over both your laps. You had to admit that this arrangement worked quite favourable for all parties involved so it became a more frequent occurrence. 

The first time you danced together came as a surprise to you. You were celebrating in a tavern after successfully completing a job for the Bright Queen and Caleb may have had a little bit too much of that Xhorhassian ale. A band was playing an upbeat tone and before you knew it Caleb had pulled you off your seat and began spinning you around. You were caught off guard but apparently a drunk Caleb was a more open Caleb and you were all having fun so what’s the harm? He was quite a good dance partner even when intoxicated. You could only imagine what waltzes he could dance when sober. 

The first time you shared a bed together came as the aftermath of the drunken dances. With the Nein save for Jester, Caduceus and yourself were quite a few bottles in resulting in you three having to practically carry them to their beds and Caleb had already been sticking to your side like glue so you were hardly going to hand him over to the others. Besides, you were able to convince him that last glass was enough and maybe it would be best for him to switch to water instead so maybe you could convince him to sleep too. You helped him up the stairs his arm over your shoulder to support him as he kept humming the tune of the band whispering sweet nothings in your ear making comments about your eyes, your personality, your skills in battle but you took it as the words of a drunken man and just happily agreed with him. You didn’t mind after all. Eventually you got him to his room but getting him in his bed proved more difficult than expected to the point where he lost his balance and you fell with him and before you knew it you were stuck in his embrace with him leaning on you like you were his pillow. Telling him he’d probably sleep more comfortable on his own was met with disagreements. You apparently were much more comfortable than any pillow and blanket and he wanted you to stay. So you stayed making yourself more comfortable. 

The hangover morning got Caleb all flustered. Hundreds of apologies, him scrambling up awkwardly but eventually he did catch on you didn’t mind and he couldn’t deny he probably hadn’t slept so comfortable in a long time even if he did wake up with a killer headache. The rest of the day was spent in with a breakfast in bed and a hangover cure brew from your Firbolg Cleric friend. Though that didn’t take it away in its entirety so the two of you spent the rest of the morning and afternoon cuddled up together.

Cuddles are comfy and even though Caleb might be somewhat touch repulsed he loved your hugs and spending time in your embrace whenever he felt down, conflicted, was simply yearning for physical touch or no reason at all. You were happy to provide these cuddles whenever he needed them and he happily provided you whenever you needed them. 

Over time Caleb grew more comfortable with your touch and you with his resulting in the two of you sitting closer together and holding hands when no one noticed. You’d grown quite fond of each other and eventually had a conversation to figure out what this thing you have going exactly is and where you would place boundaries. Together you adjusted these boundaries many times to better fit your dynamic as it kept evolving but it took some comments from Beau about how the two of you were acting like ‘that couple’ and to ‘bone each other already’ that made you realise you were very much behaving like you were in a relationship so you thought why not? You were both comfortable with this so why couldn't you be? You had nothing to lose.

Your first kiss wasn’t the most romantic by Jester’s standards that is at least. No fireworks overhead or grand confessions of love. You were sitting together at the Xhorhaus looking over the city from the ostentatious tree on top of the house arms wrapped around each other in a comfortable embrace. You were the one to ask him not wanting to cross any boundaries as you both decided moving things slow was the way to go but he said yes. Your first kiss with Caleb was soft and sweet and everything you had hoped to be. It wasn’t grand and soppy like the kisses described in Tusk Love but romantic in your own way as neither of you were for the over the top expressions of love and affection. 

You’d been helping Caleb figure out a particularly difficult spell. Your eye for detail being exactly what he needed after weeks of trying and just not getting it right but you managed to crack the code, find the mistake and help him fix it. He lifted you and spun you around giving you a deep kiss. “I love you.” The sentence seemed to have slipped out but was genuine nonetheless so you kissed him back with an ‘I love you too’. From then on you both grew more accustomed to saying the words out loud and eventually even in the company of others which for the first couple times was met with gagging noises from Beau. 

The first time you finally addressed the elephant in the room about the two of you officially being in a relationship left Jester gushing over the two of you already halfway through writing an epic romance about the two of you. ‘The Barkeep and the Scholar’. ‘Drinks and Disasters’. She kept sputtering ridiculous names. Caduceus was happy the two of you finally opened up about your relationship as there was no hiding from him. Fjord and Yasha were happy for the both of you. Beau of course congratulated Caleb and bluntly told you she wouldn’t be afraid to make you disappear should you ever hurt Caleb but it was Veth who’s promised you bodily harm and worse if you ever hurt her boy because not even the gods could stop her if that happened. You had to assure her, vow upon your life that that day would never come and you loved Caleb too much to ever hurt him let alone to the point were you’d provoke Veth’s wrath. 

[fanficteen]

gone (4)

tw: implied/referenced self harm, self-destructive behaviours & tendencies, references to canonical suicidal tendencies

“I need you to drop the illusion.” Carlisle’s hand was cool on your cheek, golden eyes pleading with yours, even as you stiffened. “I know I can’t ask you to trust me, but at least trust my medical degree. I need to make sure they’re not infected.” There was no way out of this, except to set your jaw and let the glamour drop. Carlisle whispered thanks, resisted the urge to say anything further as he cleaned the wounds up your arms, in various states of healing. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t owe him an apology. “You don’t need to be.” A bandage swept up each wrist as he released them, finally meeting your eyes again. “I let you down.”  You resisted the urge to comfort him with false assurances that he hadn’t, that it didn’t matter, that he was here now. “I won’t let it happen again.” You wondered if you were naive for starting to believe him.

You came home to a house in chaos, Billy’s sad eyes meeting yours from the middle of Jacob and Rachel’s screaming match, Paul growling at Jacob over Rachel’s shoulder. “HEY!” Your voice cut them both off and the whole pack’s eyes turned to you. “What the hell is going on?” “(Y/N)!” Rachel was on you in a moment, beating her werewolf brother to the punch. “Are you ok? I came by the house but Bella told me you were fine and sent me home.” “I’m fine,” you soothed, grasping her hands. “Just had a few things to sort out.” “So you’re going crawling back to him, huh?” Jacob challenged, surly. “After everything he did?” “We’ll see,” you answered, steadily, determined not to match his anger. “I’m still researching. Even if he keeps this promise, I don’t want to know I have to rely on him.” He grunted some kind of disapproval, but let it go. “The doctor fixed you up?” Billy confirmed, a rough nod at your wrapped wrists, face calm around his storming eyes. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “What?” Jacob’s confused eyes shot to your wrists, the emotions his father hid in his eyes warring for primacy on Jacob’s younger face. “What happened?” You flicked your eyes away from him, only to be caught by Sam’s sorrowful gaze. “Jake–“ “Did he hurt you?!” “No, it’s not like that,” you assured him, frantic. “Jacob,” Sam warned, lowly, but was ignored. “Then what is it like? Who the hell hurt you?!” Sam’s hand landed on his shoulder, trying to soothe the swirling tension. “I DID!” He wilted back into Sam’s grip, eyes wide and tearful, as you buried your face in your hands. “I did.” Billy caught you by the elbow before you could bolt, settling you on his lap in a warm embrace, just as he had done when you were a child, large calloused hands clutching you to him as you sobbed. “It’s time we left,” Sam commented, distantly. “Paul, you too.” Even Rachel’s hotheaded mate didn’t complain at the command, leaving Jacob and Rachel alone to stare at you, aghast, still curled up to your surrogate father’s chest.

Eventually, you unfurled to explain yourself, swiping at the tear tracks sticky on your cheeks as you spoke. Spoke of the pulsing pain of an absent soul bond, of the darker magics you could unlock with only your blood and breath to command it. Of the stinging clarity seeping from open wounds. Jacob’s face hardened into silent stone, and you watched him sink away from you. “I need to go–“ “No!” Hard, dark eyes turned to you. “I can’t be around you–“ “I’ll go.” You stood and grabbed the jacket and handbag you’d discarded by the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.” “Running back to your vampire?” Jacob sneered, ignoring Billy’s firm scolding. You didn’t deign to respond, just stepped out the door and slipped away into the woods. Chilled darkness blanketed around you, heavy on your shoulders, but familiar. The woods breathed a peace that you had missed from your time upriver – no vampires, no humans, no shifters. Just… nature. Unaltered. Footsteps approached behind you, hot-blooded heartbeat fitting the hand that landed on your shoulder, that pulled you into a warm body. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Sam’s voice spoke of sorrow and understanding, of scars too fresh for either of you to be comfortable. You sniffled into his chest. “You can come home with me, or I can take you to your imprint, or–“ “Alice.” Why her name was the first to tumble from your lips, you weren’t sure, but the pixie-like girl swam starlight in your mind’s eye – promises of safety, of honest truth. “I’ll call Alice.” Sam nodded, letting you fumble for your phone. “Alright, we’ll head in that direction while you call her.” His warm arm never left your shoulders as he turned you around, setting off towards the clearing around the Cullens’ home.

You woke the next morning to a cup of steaming tea placed on the bedside table, as Alice took a seat on the bed beside you, offering you a soft smile. Just like the night before, you appreciated the quiet, the lack of questioning – she had opened the door as you murmured your gratitude to Sam, who had given Alice a begrudging nod as he disappeared back into the treeline. You were drawn out of your memory when Alice pulled you close and you let yourself melt into the cool familiarity of her arm draped around you. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” You hummed, closing your hands around your mug as you thought. “I don’t know,” you admitted, eventually. Alice turned her palm over, a wordless invitation, and you placed your hand in hers, letting pain fear anger hurt fear fear love love love burn through the temporary bond. Alice didn’t flinch away, didn’t give any indication that she felt it, her than her fingers intertwining with yours, her other hand combing through your hair. “I just don’t know who I can trust anymore. It’s like… every anchor I had was ripped away and even when the storm clears, it’s not going to carry me back to familiar waters or fix my broken masts.” Your eyes dropped to your bandaged arms. “I’m not even sure they can be fixed. Maybe I’m already a wreck and I’m just waiting for the water to drown me.” “You’re not.” Firm, sure, Alice’s words held every bit of the determination you’d come to know from her. “You’re not broken, you’re not a wreck, and you’re not alone. I know – I know we hurt you, but we’re here now. From now on, we’re here whenever you need us, whatever you need us for. And I know that Billy and even Sam will be too, even if we don’t get along with them. You’re important to both of us, so we’ll make it work.” Protests and disagreements stung on the tip of your tongue, shattered trust and hurt and fear, but Alice’s hands were steady and so was her voice, as she promised she was here. As she promised she wasn’t going anywhere. You didn’t realise you’d lost your shields until an artificial kind of calm washed over you, Jasper padding silently into the room. “Be gentle with yourself,” he requested, quietly, dropping at Alice’s side, golden eyes soft and warm, despite his ice-cold skin. You let his calm steady you, before you began to build your walls back up, closing off their powers.

“Thank you.” Alice smiled at your quiet words, Jasper simply inclining his head in quiet acknowledgement. “Bella’s making waffles,” Alice prompted, after you finished composing yourself, jigsaw puzzle pieces falling into place again. “You wanna shower and come down?” “I don’t have any clothes.” Alice paused. Her clothes wouldn’t fit you, but… “You’re welcome to borrow some of Carlisle’s clothes.” Perhaps, the scent of your soulmate would help soothe you, as well, despite his role in the fragile cracks of your heart. “He’s at the hospital at the moment, so you can use his bathroom and get changed in his room, if you’d like. He should be back soon. But if you’re not comfortable with that, I’m sure you can borrow one of the other guys’ clothes, or someone can duck over to–“ “Are you sure that’s okay?” Alice’s eyes softened. “Of course it is. Carlisle won’t mind one bit, so long as you’re safe and happy… or as close as you can be.”

You stepped out of the warm water feeling a little more like a person, and pulled on the first of Carlisle’s shirts that you found, a button up that draped comfortably down to your knees. Once your hair was dry enough not to soak the shirt, you hung up the towel Alice had lent you and headed downstairs towards the quiet chatter in the living room. Edward was draped over Bella’s shoulders as she cooked, Esme watching fondly as Alice and Emmett bantered over who was really Mr Johnson’s favourite, Rosalie rolling her eyes at them from where she leaned into Emmett’s side. Jasper offered you a gentle smile as you entered and you returned it, only to freeze in place as a familiar head of blond hair poked out of the pantry, which had been stocked with some more human-friendly foods since their return and Bella’s regular presence. “I knew we had maple syrup!” he announced, holding the bottle up victoriously. “Great. (Y/N), what do you want on your waffles?” Bella shot the query over her shoulder as she finished plating up the waffles and turned to plop a plate in front of you. Your tongue tumbled over itself before you managed to sputter a response, earning yourself a concerned look from most of the room. “We’ll leave you two to eat,” Esme decided, ushering the vampires out of the kitchen. Apparently, no matter how good your shields were, you still had an expressive face. Bella leaned against the counter across from you, chewing her waffles and examining you thoughtfully. “Do I need to punch Jacob, or someone else?” she asked, eventually, and you smiled, sombrely, though the effect was ruined a little by the mouthful of waffles bulging your cheeks. “I don’t know who I’m most angry at, so I’ll give you a pass on the punching for the moment.” She laughed, and for a moment things were almost normal. Almost. “What are we doing here?” Bella blinked up at your sudden question. “…eating waffles.” “Yeah, but why are we here, eating waffles, with the people who abandoned us? Why can’t I still be angry? I’m still hurting, like every time I see him the wounds reopen but he’s the only one who can stitch them up and I just don’t get it! Why was it so easy for them to leave us, but we can’t ever stay away?” You were crying now, and Bella offered her shoulder before you ruined your waffles, soft circles running along your shoulders. “It wasn’t easy for them to leave us. And it wasn’t easy for any of us to come back. But… this is where we’re meant to be. No matter what happens now, we all belong together. We can heal together.” She pulled back, brushing tears from your perpetually stained cheeks, and offered a soft smile. “I know they fucked up. I know we fucked up. But… we can do better.”

a/n: sorry for the wait y’all, have some platonic bonding

@mylovelyjoon @kyrah-williams @crazycookiecrumbles @mangoberry43 @misselsbells06

[jikooksgirl19]

My Soulmates 1

Genre:Soulmate AU, fluff,angst, eventual smut

Pairing: Idol Jimin x Lawyer Reader x Idol Jungkook

Warnings: some swearing (Y/N has a trash mouth sometimes)

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you my story. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.

Please read the teaser and prologue first if you haven’t already.

*********************************************************************

October 7, 2018 4:36pm

The boys had been practicing since 8am that morning with limited breaks, and were tired and hungry. They were all going to dinner and begin making their way to the elevator, laughing and joking with each other. Namjoon was deep in thought when the doors of the elevator opened and a woman came out barreling right into the midst of the group. Her head was down, and she seemed absorbed in something on the iPad she held in her hands when she must have realized what she had done. Namjoon heard her gasp and reach out towards Jimin and Jungkook and thought she might be trying to steady herself as they were reaching out to her as well. He couldn’t believe it when they all began collapsing on the floor, the other boys trying to catch them. He noticed that the three were still grasping onto each other, and a red ring began to encircle their ring fingers and travel up their arms. The other boys were staring at this as well and they looked at each other shaking their heads. All of them mumbled the same thing

...”Oh Shit!”

You felt warm and cocooned for some reason. It was so cozy and you didn’t want to wake up. Wait, when did I go home? Your thoughts were hazy and you were trying to figure out where you were. You tried to stretch and found yourself bumping into something hard. As you started groping around you realized that this was not your pillow at all but felt like a chest. A mans chest. You have never moved so fast as you just did sitting yourself up. “What the hell...!” You look and see you are on a bed with not one but two boys cuddled up around you. Fear immediately sets in as you look around the room and see sleeping figures on another bed and couch.

“What the fuck...!” You said out loud quickly slapping both your hand over your mouth so as not to awaken the men in the room. You are in bed with, and surrounded by BTS. They are the worlds most famous boy band. They are the Nations Treasures. THEY ARE YOUR CLIENTS!!! Your mind explodes right then and there. You think to yourself ’What Tumblr, A03, Wattpad fanfic did I just wake up in.’

‘OH MY GOD IM IN A COMA!!!! That has to be it. There cannot be any other explanation. I’m in a coma and I transported into some sucky ass wannabe Hallmark Movie’.

All you can think of is that you have some sort of brain tumor and have fallen into a life altering, dream fugue-like state and all your teenage and young adult fantasies are blending together therefore you have conjured up some poly bias delusional weirdness in yor muddled brain. This isn’t real...this isn’t real... this isn’t real....... You pinch yourself and...oh shit that hurt. You struggle to get off the bed which isn’t easy by any means when two pairs of arms AND legs keep trying to pull you back down. You debate screaming bloody murder when you hear someone speak.

“You’re awake”. You turned your head and saw someone sitting up rubbing his eyes looking at you. You recognized the leader of said boy band Namjoon from the many many posters around BigHit.

“I am” your voice sounding more calm than you felt. “Can you tell me where I am and why I’m here with all of you like some weird slumber party?” You we’re holding on the the last shreds of professionalism that you could before screaming to the high heavens.

“You don’t remember finding your soulmates” he asked?

“Excuse me, my what now?” You cocked your head like you didn’t hear him right. “What on earth are you going on about? Soulmate, I don’t have a soulmate.”

“Soulmates” he corrected. By now some of the other members were starting to wake up.

“I AM in a COMA”. You were starting to babble incoherently in a mix of Korean and English with some well placed Spanish swear words your mother used to use when you were little and she was mad. You we’re starting to panic and began trying to climb off the bed all the while the two boys on your bed were snoozing away like nothing was happening. You managed to fall off of the bed and skittered backwards like a crab til your back hit the wall. You slapped your cheeks willing yourself to wake up.

Namjoon looked next to him and asked “Jin can you call Yuna? I think she may be able to help out with...” he looked at you realizing he didn’t know your name. Jin got up and walked towards the window to call someone.

“Y/N. Sona Y/N.” I...I..I’m a temporary lawyer working at BigHit on some of your international contracts. I’d like to say nice to meet you but maybe when there’s a less murdery vibe and location.” You were quickly getting your bearings together and began to gather your composure. “Now can you please tell me why I’m here being cuddled to death by those thing one and thing two over there” you point towards the bed. Several giggles and laughs were heard at this. You on the other hand were not sure what was so funny.

A deep voice in the corner answered this time. “Well thing one and two as you called them, or as we like to call them Jimin and Jungkook are your soulmates “ he said matter-of-factly like it was everyday normal. “I’m Taehyung, you can call me Tae or Tae-Tae to piss them off if you want.” His big boxy grin made him look like a mischievous child You couldn’t help but give him a wary smile. Someone else, you think it was J-Hope came towards you and thrust forward a hand. You cautiously took it and he helped you up from the floor. You began dusting off your skirt and straightening your blouse internally thanking the almighty upstairs that you were still clothed while eying all of them suspiciously. “I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi if you want.”

Jin turned around after hanging up and offered you the only chair in the room. You quickly shuffled over sitting down and tried to ask again why you were here. In a bedroom, on a bed with your soulmates and their band mates all in the same room. “ Can someone please just tell me what happened?” Your voice staring to crack as you were close to tears. “This just feels too extrodinary to believe. You keep saying I have soulmates, as in plural. I didn’t even know that was possible.” It was then that you looked at your left hand and saw the red string tatoo. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME....Did I have a stroke? How...what...why...” your words became so jumbled you weren’t making any sense and you were pretty sure a panic attack was just a moment away from tackling your neurotic ass into submission. Jin kneeled in front of you telling you to breathe. “ In through the nose....out through the mouth Y/N. You can do it just breathe in and out, in and out...that’s it, you got it, in...out.” You sat there holding his hands while Tae began rubbing your back in circles as they were trying their best to calm you down. Jin explained to you that he also has a soulmate named Yuna and she is ready to come talk to you about what being attached to an idol can be like.

Across the room you heard a groggy voice “Uugghhhh....get off me Jungkookah. Why are we in bed? What happened” could be heard from the bed you just left. Jimin was sitting up while shoving Jungkook off of him and staring around the room. Jungkook fell off the bed. He jumped up and was getting ready to tackle his hyung who knocked him down when his eyes landed on you. He was confused as to why a woman, a very pretty woman, but a woman nonetheless was sitting in their studio bedroom at BigHit, surrounded by four of his hyungs. “Um, hello” he said quietly making Jimin look in the same direction. Eyes got wide when he also said a quiet hello and then proceeded to ask Namjoon “ What’s going on. Who is she and why are we all in here. I thought we were going to dinner?”

“See, I’m not the only one confused” you exclaimed louder and much squeakier than you meant. “Apparently we are soulmates” you say while gesturing to the both of them and yourself. “Surprise “ you say throwing up jazz hands and beginning to laugh at the outrageous looks on both of their faces.

“Who, who is your soulmate?” They both say at the same time.

Namjoon looks at you knowing you are barely holding on at the moment and answers for you. “All three of you are soulmates”.

They stare at each other then at you then at the group and both start laughing. “Ok ok, good joke hyung, stop playing around. Did you knock us out and this is a mystery mission? “ “Are we on a run BTS episode we didn’t know was being filmed?” They took turns asking like this was a prank or something.

When they see no one other than you are deadly serious they stop and start to freak out as well. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” They look at each other only to both shout out that they couldn’t be soulmates. Why is it just happening now after knowing each other all these years. Brothers yes, soulmates no. NOPE. NO WAY, WHAT THE FUCK.

You get up and walk over to them. You grab both of their left hands and show them the tattoos. You peek inside your shirt and confirm you have the soulmates date above your heart, and tell them to check their chests as well. You strangely feel calm being around the two of them and less like a victim of some K-Pop Serial Killer drama that you stepped into, and you realize they also both settle down while you’re holding onto them.

Namjoon gets up and begins to explain that though it’s rare, there are known cases of multiple soulmates. They are harder to find because all of the mates must be together for their souls to connect. Once they do connect though the bond is stronger than a normal soulmates bond and can come with difficulties due to the relationship aspect of it. Prejudice often follows a poly soulmate connection due to the narrow mindedness of society and can often be looked down on. He tells the three of you that you should tell management right away so they can have a plan in place. Fans aren’t always supportive of their bias’s soulmates, and Y/N having two of the most popular idols in Korea as hers are going to come with challenges. Especially with you being a foreigner.

You three look at each other and back at Namjoon, silently agreeing to these terms. He also suggests you three need time together alone to get to know about each other because you all three had different lives leading up to today, and it would be best to figure out where you all should go from here. Other people’s feelings and relationships are going to be affected by what has happened and you all needed to be prepared for any backlash.

“Ok, now that this is all settled can we please get some dinner?” You hear from the other bed where apparently Yoongi has been napping throughout all the mental breakdowns.

To be continued...

Taglist: @mrcleanheichou @itsminniekat @dreamescapeswriting @seaoffangirling @4evahevah @sonderkook @bisexualmess007 @chxustuff @aviwasabi21 @skyys-universe @ally22042000 @ramblingsofawolfgirl

[spadesverse-official]

In the Spadesverse universe, there are four kingdoms. Every kingdom represents an aspect of what keeps the world going and humanity’s connection to it. They all have their individual roles to fulfil- Protectors for every one of this world's fundamental mechanisms, thus each nation is known to oversee a certain aspect of this world’s magic. The ability to control these ‘types’ of magic depends on how dangerous the magic is, some can be used by everyone, whilst others are trusted to the Monarchs alone. It is the duty of each monarchy to work together to bring balance, peace, and prosperity.

The four kingdoms are Diamonds, Hearts, Clubs, and Spades.

Diamonds

Magic

Diamonds’ connection is with nature. Their magic lies within controlling the elements; Earth, fire, water, and air. These are of course umbrella terms, water can extend to ice and other liquids, earth can also refer to plant life, etc. Elemental magic is the easiest to master as people are surrounded by nature, though it comes most naturally to citizens born in Diamonds or anyone who has ancestry from said nation, but it is not limited to just Diamonds alone. It can be wielded by anyone without connections to Diamonds who has a basic knowledge of magic or anyone in tune with nature. However, there have been cases where people have been able to resort to elemental magic without having studied any sort of magic before, usually under pressure, in distressing situations, situations that have activated one’s natural ‘fight or flight’, or under intense emotional responses stemming anywhere from joy, grief, rage, etc.

It should be noted, however, that the Diamonds Monarchy wields it the strongest. Diamonds Royals can complete elemental feats that even Masters (A title earned through training in the magical arts and mastering advanced types of magic) deem unimaginable, such as bending significantly more difficult elements like magma, or singlehandedly stopping entire natural disasters which would usually take hundreds, if not thousands, of magic users to stop.

General

Diamonds is known for its wealth and luxury, the nation of lavish galas and garden parties. They earn this wealth from their vast collection of natural resources, which they are able to take full advantage of due to their born ability to wield the elements. Before other kingdoms learned this magic, Diamonds was the first to hone this ability, getting a head start.

Their soil is already naturally rich, but it doesn’t hurt that farmers can make crops sing by taking advantage of plant based magic, for example. Most notably, Diamonds has exploited the caves that run deep within their grounds and the mountains to the North East, using earth based magic to create mines and harness resources all the way from coal to rarer finds like diamonds, hence the name of the nation. It’s fair to say Diamonds was quick to make significant profit, at least when other Kingdoms began to thrive, that is. The palace was decorated with the gold they mined to honour this show of wealth and, eventually, it became their national colour.

To put it simply, Diamonds thrives off of its agriculture and trade of luxury. They’ve become the fashion capital of the world, with fine silks, metals, and shimmering jewels for the most breath-taking of jewellery. You’ll find many aspiring designers migrating here, and often people retire to Diamonds after a lifetime of building their wealth. Diamonds has been able to enjoy the easy, expensive life with little financial concerns for the majority of the populace, leading, also, to a significant boom in leisure. Notably, Diamonds is home to some of the most famous theatres and the leading nation when it comes to the theatrical arts.

Hearts

Magic

True to its name, Hearts’ core magic revolves around the heart- More specifically, a heartbeat. The beginning and end of said beat. The Hearts Monarchy oversees life and death, tracking souls, so to speak. They do this through pendants (Can also be referred to as ‘amulets’). There are two types of pendants: Fertility pendants and soul pendants.

Fertility pendants are used to track pregnancy and the health of an unborn child. They are usually worn when trying to check if someone is pregnant, or if a couple is trying to conceive. A colourful ‘mist’ will appear in the pendant if the wearer is with child. The mist represents the soul of the child. If there is more than one child present, there will be more than one colour depending on how many embryos there are. There will be two colours in the case of twins, three for triplets, etc. The colours of these mists vary, the reason as to why is unknown. Some say certain colours depict what personality type your child will have, similar to Zodiac signs. There is no evidence to support this theory, however, and so the colour of the mist seems to be just up to chance. One colour is known, however, and only happens in a particular scenario. The mist inside a fertility pendant will turn black in the case of a miscarriage, which only happens if there is infidelity between a couple. Some say this is a punishment given by a higher power, but it is one that seems greatly unjust, especially if the wearer was not the party at fault.

Soul pendants are used to ‘store’ souls. Empty soul pendants will be worn by those who are aware they do not have long left, such as the elderly and/or the severely ill. When they pass, part of their soul/‘life force’ will then be ‘captured’ in the pendant, rather than moving on. Storing a soul using this type of connection to Earth allows the deceased to watch over the living realm as a part of them is still being kept on the physical plain. They can watch over their loved ones from a place most call ‘The Inbetween’. Not much is known of The Inbetween or the afterlife other than this, at least not to anyone still alive.

Soul pendants that are filled with a soul will be given to a loved one of the deceased to wear. The chosen wearer can be named in one’s will if, leading up to their death, the original wearer knows who they want to watch over the most.

A fertility pendant will act as a temporary soul pendant in the case of a miscarriage so that, if the parents wish, their child’s soul can be transferred into an actual soul pendant so that the child, in a way, will still be with them.

Finally, soul pendants (That have a soul inside) can enhance the magic of a wearer by using the life force of the captured soul, but this will weaken the soul overtime until it fades and the connection the deceased once had to the living realm will then be lost, forcing them to fully move on into the afterlife.

Only the Hearts Monarchy and their Makers (Term given to people that manufacture the pendants) can create these pendants. The Monarchy will bestow some of their magic onto Makers, so that they will also have the ability to transfer souls/make pendants that have the ability to capture souls as well. Makers are chosen by the Monarchy and there are very few of them, but they exist to to lessen the workload for the Monarchs themselves so they can still see to their Kingdom’s needs whilst not neglecting the demand for pendants.

It is rumoured that the King and Queen of Hearts share a power that no one else does, however. A final power that links to the human heart. This is the ability to see soulmates. But, again, this is merely a rumour and has not been proven nor disproven.

General

Hearts, well, has a lot of heart. As cheesy as it sounds. But it’s true. This Kingdom is known for its national pride, but also for its sense of community. Citizens will admit that it’s difficult to walk through most villages without at least one grandmother trying to feed them. Children are usually raised by whole towns, not just their own family.

Festivals are not rare in this Kingdom, and they usually surround its citizens’ love of food and alcohol. It’s a wonderful place to go when needing to feel loved and appreciated. It also doesn’t hurt that it’s one of the hotter nations, with a beautifully warm climate.

Moreover, its citizens seem to naturally value life more, and not just their own life for that matter. Many of the world’s best medical schools reside in Hearts, and many of its citizens become doctors, nurses, etc.

Hearts is also known for its art. Diamonds may thrive when it comes to theatre, but Hearts soars when it comes to painting, sculpting, pottery, etc. Both are currently racing to prove who produces the better bards and singers, though.

Clubs

Magic

Clubs' magic revolves around the sun and moon, light and dark, good vs evil, etc. The Clubs Monarchy oversees the balance between light, dark, and neutral magic within the atmosphere, constantly making sure the scales never tip into darkness too much. Dark magic warps people’s minds, makes them give into their darkest desires and selves, having too much of it in the atmosphere can lead to drastic consequences. It will lead people to insanity, create chaos and discord. Thus, it is the Monarchy’s duty to balance out the scales. Say if someone was dabbling in dark magic and they released too much of it into the universe, the Monarchy would balance it out via releasing light magic into the atmosphere, usually by giving out blessings, such as ‘luck’. This is also seen as distributing ‘karma’.

Since balancing the scales is their duty, it is also the role of this Monarchy to decide what types of dark magic are too dangerous and will decide the legislature regarding these types, such as what is illegal and what isn’t, or what needs to be licensed to use, etc. They will consult the other Monarchies before making a final decision, however. Typically, it is also the Clubs Monarchy who will then choose the punishment given to those who are practicing illegal types of magic, such as curses or necromancy.

It is said that the King and Queen can take away one’s ability to do certain types of magic if they begin to abuse their power, and can give this power to remove magic to others they trust, too. It is also said that the King and Queen can harness the energy of the sun and moon to enhance their own magic or the magical abilities of those around them. Neither of these theories have been confirmed.

General

Clubs is...Barren. It’s mountainous terrain, freezing temperatures, and overall snow covered lands makes it difficult to grow almost anything. It’s citizens get by on luck alone, quite literally. The King and Queen throughout history, apparently, have had to bless their citizens with luck just to get by. It’s actually because of this that their national symbol, which had once been a sun, a moon, and an eclipse to represent the balance between light and dark magic, became misinterpreted as a clover through the generations.

It’s main trade is ice and vodka. It doesn’t produce a lot of profit, but it gets them by. Clubs is not a very lively place. Whether this could change or not is up to the New Monarchs.

Spades

Magic

Nothing is known about Spades’ abilities at this point in time. It will remain that way until its Monarchy is found. There are rumours that float around still, from the days of the Old Monarchs, that the Spades Monarchy had the ability to change time. One can dream.

General

Spades is not known for anything yet, other than being the last Kingdom to fall, but also the last to rise again. All they have to show for themselves is a hundred years worth of ruin, like every other Kingdom did before Diamonds rose. They have some farmlands to the West, forests everywhere else, the ruins of old docks. Who knows what the new Monarchy will bring, and who knows what legacy they will create for the Kingdom.

[thenextchapter22]

Angel of the Three Realms

PART 7!!

Description: You were an Angel who went to the human world to escape punishment for loving Lucifer only to be brought back into his life, this time in the Devildom where you pretend to be human.

In this chapter: Everything is perfect, even with your love still a secret, and being home with everyone and flying is all you could ask for...

Tags: Unrequited Love, Fluff, Angst, WIP

Pairing(s): Lucifer/Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: Guys, this is the second to last chapter :( Thank you to all those who kept reading, I’m really happy you liked this work. Please enjoy~

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

_+_

You had the most magical time just simply being with the brothers. Not doing anything special, only talking in your room, tossing popcorn at each other and snuggling. They were always so warm, and you’d never turn away a hug.

But eventually they had to go to their own thing, so that left you some time alone. Mostly with your thoughts, which strayed here and there as you stretched on your bed. Thankfully they had put it back to the way it was before the spell to make it larger.

School was on temporary break per Lord Diavolo’s orders (and although he didn’t say it directly, you knew it was because of you, and he wanted you to have some time off).

There was a knock on the door again. But this time, someone else spoke out on the other side.

“May I come in?” Lucifer called out.

You stood up quick and straightened out your clothes, fixing your hair. It had a slight curl to it from Asmo’s braiding. Lucifer at your door was a rare thing indeed, plus you wanted to look presentable after having popcorn thrown at you.

Letting him inside, he glanced around at the slight mess that still remained. Stray blankets, the TV was still moved from its spot, and some chairs had been pushed away to make room for the larger bed that had been there.

He turned back to you, and said, “I had stopped by earlier, but heard you all having so much fun I didn’t want to ruin it all.”

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, you could have joined us, you know.”

He waved his gloved hand dismissively. “No, you needed time with them. They needed time with you.”

Biting your lip, you had to ask. “Did you… hear anything we said?”

His lips quirked a bit but he didn’t not smile. “If you’re referring to you speaking about Michael, then, yes, I happened to hear it.”

So you eavesdropped, you wanted to say, but instead you pushed that away. It probably wasn’t on purpose.

“I hope its okay I told them about Michael… I don’t want to keep any more secrets.”

“Of course, dove, I had planned on telling them myself.”

You shivered at the nickname that flew so easily from his lips, and nodded, your hair bouncing. “Good, I’m glad.”

You watched his gaze flicker to your shoulders before he sighed. “I don’t want to upset you but I feel like we should talk about everything that’s happened.”

“Oh! Uh, okay. Do you want to sit then?” you gestured to the table. “I can make us some tea really fast.”

He did sit, but shook his head. “The tea isn’t needed. Let’s just talk.”

Talking wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. But you did sit opposite him at the little brown wooden table, and crossed your ankles and folded your hands under your chin. “All right, shoot.”

He smirked. “So eloquent.”

You winked. “Always.”

Really, you just wanted to ease the tension in the room. It was too stuffy and a bit suffocating. You were nervous for his questioning, like he was a detective asking you, a criminal, if you had done the murder.

Lucifer didn’t look at you for a moment, instead stared at the table, tapping his fingers on the edge. Then he stopped, and looked up at you with intensity in those gorgeous eyes. “I can’t apologize enough for how stupid I was to not see you when you first came here. Despite the spell, even so.”

You frowned. “Oh, Luci—”

He kept going. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. I need to know. Why did you leave? What happened to make you leave?”

You knew the question would come. Still you were not prepared for it. “I just… it’s hard to say why. There were lots of reason.” Lies. Only one: him.

He always saw right through you. Narrowing eyes spoke of that. “You’re not being truthful with me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He paused. His tone seemed lighter next he spoke, “Did you at least have a happy life?”

That was just like the brothers’ question. “I did…mostly.”

“Hm. Tell me more. I want to hear about your life, what I missed.”

“You do?” you whispered.

“Of course. Unless you don’t want to tell me. You’ve changed so much since I last saw you.”

“In a good way, or bad?”

He chuckled. “A bit of both, I think.”

You smiled. “Okay.” You thought about everything you’d been through, and decided to start off with a high note. “There was a stretch of years where I lived in a small town by the sea. Everyone knew everyone, and there was kindness all around. My favorite thing to do was fly over the water in the moonlight. The ocean breeze and the smell of salt air was amazing.” You inhaled like you were there, and he gently reached out and brushed his fingers over your cheek. You held in a whimper. “I had to leave at one point, when the kids started to become adults and I stayed the same as I was.”

“That must’ve been difficult to do over and over. Establish relationships and then leave.”

You nodded, and sighed. “It had to be done…”

“I do have to wonder… why you didn’t become Human once your arrival on the surface world. You have no Halo but you do have wings, and celestial magic… It’s against all that Heaven stood for.”

You had wondered it yourself many times. But then you had other things to worry about, like your pretend human life. Evolving with them, learning and teaching, building relationship and ending them many times over. It was fun and fantastic and everything you never had dreamed of when you first left. So, only for a few short moments did you ponder that question Lucifer asked, and replied back.

“I did wonder but… I wouldn’t be able to find any answers. I had too much to do.”

Lucifer smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart clenched. “You—you are?”

“I am. You’ve done amazing things in your life. I couldn’t have wished for anything better. Losing all these years with you…” He frowned. “I will admit thinking about how much time I’ve spent here, with my memories of you gone… That I didn’t have the strength to break free.”

“You couldn’t have known,”

“While that’s true, I still hate it.”

“And so, now that I have you here with me, I will make the best of it. We will together.”

Together. Just not the way you wanted.

Perhaps, in time, maybe some years in the future, you would be brave enough to finally speak up. But right now wasn’t the best time. Or you could just be a true coward to your own feelings. You had a stray thought of ‘what it this was hurting Lucifer more than telling him would be?’

“I promise you, my dear, if I were to ever see Michael again…” And Lucifer’s forehead glowed where his black triangle usually lay, dark clouds forming the shape but not fully changing him. “…I’ll kill him.”

_+_

Life was back to normal. Only, it was better. Truth was out, and a freedom of the soul with it. You were truly able to be you, at least in the way you looked. Sure, your wings were still tucked away but you knew they weren’t a secret to be hidden away anymore.

The first day you were told you could fly again, you shot out of bed that very morning and, after breakfast, ran to the courtyard. It was a beautiful Devildom day, no clouds, not too hot or cold, and the winds were just right.

“She’s gonna fly! Everyone, come and see her wings!” Mammon shouted.

There was the sound of a stampede and before you knew it, the entirety of the House of Lamentation was there, and Purgatory Hall even somehow ended up.

You were very nervous. It had been months since you’d flown. But you knew it was going to be as easy as getting back on a bicycle as the humans say.

“Go on, dearie, we know you’re going to be beautiful. Spread your wings and fly~” Asmo shouted.

You grinned at him, and heard everyone else shout out words of encouragement. It was honestly really sweet. Luke was jumping up and down, waving his arms. He hadn’t gotten wings yet so he was super excited.

Satan didn’t have wings so he wasn’t as cheery, but he still gave you a soft smile and told you to go for it.

Then, lastly, you heard Lucifer speak. He wasn’t shouting like the others, but your focused hearing caught his words. “Fly, just as you used to: with passion.”

So with that, you changed, wings sprouting out like fireworks of white bursting open, and like a rocket you shot up into the sky. There was cheering and screaming, but as you went higher, soaring around the clear skies, you could only hear the wind rushing in your ears, and your heart pounding. The pure delight in flying never would leave you.

The sky wasn’t just yours for long. You looked to your left and saw Asmodeus’ bat wings flapping as he twirled in circles. He looked majestic, and you saw he had his hair pinned back with clips. He winked and flew a bit lower, and you laughed.

Mammon flew past you in a burst of speed, the back winds hitting you hard but you steadied yourself. “Hey, slow down!” you teased.

He stuck out his tongue from in front of you, and circled you once. “No way, you’re so slow,” he shouted with a stupid grin before speeding ahead.

You laughed at them. This was so much fun. You shut your eyes for a moment, feeling the wind in your face, rustling your hair. Your wings ached gloriously. The tickling of it against your feathers. It was pure magic.

“Always with your head in the clouds.”

You saw Lucifer then, full form, four wings dark and incredible behind him. His hair looked perfect in the wind, and he eased up next to your right and kept pace.

“I know,” you said with a smile. “I do my best thinking here.”

“Well, then, next time a test comes up, please go flying first.”

You laughed. “All right, but only if you come with me?”

He smiled. “Of course, dove.”

You hummed. You moved away a bit, and twirled once, giggling, and found his gaze softened. “Why did you call me that? You used to when I was younger, and you also did when I first came here. I don’t know why, when you were under that spell…”

He slowed his speed a bit until he stopped, and you had to circle back to meet him. The two of you thousands of feet above the Devildom ground, floating in the air.

“It’s quite the conundrum isn’t it?” He paused. “Memories don’t just vanish. These spells can’t remove a memory, only cloak it, and hide it away. So it’s always there, somewhere in your mind, waiting to resurface again.”

You frowned. He was sort of right. It was like when you worked as a temp nurse in a hospital, and the coma patients eventually got their memory back with time and patience.

Suddenly, Lucifer smiled at you, like a Morningstar of darkness. “I suppose a part of me just… couldn’t forget you.”

What? Your wings fumbled a bit in astonishment, and he reached out to grab at your upper arms. There was a large frown on his face and his brow was furrowed. “Steady. You’re stronger now but I think it’s time to head back down.”

You said nothing, only let him lead you both to the ground. Everyone gathered around and you were brought out of your head to them patting your arms and saying how amazing you were.

A part of you was still stuck on what just was said, but you pulled yourself together. “Thanks everyone! I want to fly with all of you soon.”

You looked at Satan, who was frowning. He sighed. So you walked to him and took his hand. He blushed. “The two of us can do something else, or if you want I can take you flying?”

He shook his head. “No thank you. I’m not a fan of… heights…” He smiled. “But I appreciate it.”

Belphie made a soft noise. “I want extra naps on your lap as compensation.”

You chuckled. “Easily done, Belphie.”

Levi frowned from beside Satan. “What about me?”

You took his hand next, to which he panicked externally and internally, and said the same thing to him.

Levi stuttered a bit, “W-w-well we can go swimming instead. I know a lake that’s perfect this time of year where you can rent tube floats nearby and there’s a really cool waterfall that makes rainbows.”

You nodded. “Sounds perfect. Speaking of water, I’m thirsty so I’m going to grab a drink.”

Leaving them behind, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, downed it, and exhaled. You placed your hands on the marble countertop and scrunched your nose while you thought.

‘a part of me just… couldn’t forget you.’

Did Lucifer love you? As more than a… friend? Was it possible? Those words seemed to have an underlying meaning to them, you were almost positive. Because if he did love you, he would say so, right? He was Pride, but wouldn’t love overcome that tenfold?

You laughed aloud, and shook your head. “I’m an idiot. Of course he doesn’t.”

Still, those words echoed in your head all day and night, even appearing in your dreams. Haunting or teasing, you were not sure.

But when you woke up to a new family, you shoved that part away. You had to put the past where it belonged: the past. You were home, Michael could not get you here, and you were safe to live your life as you chose. And you chose to live it to the fullest.