#HIS PAST LOVER RETURNED BUT AT THE COST OF HIS MEMORY

[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different. 

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her. 

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life? 

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.” 

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added. 

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now. 

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?” 

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.” 

“Well.. what is the HIS?” 

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.” 

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.” 

“Roger that, boss!” 

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

~~

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences. 

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

���Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission. 

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense. 

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for. 

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things? 

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him. 

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away. 

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer. 

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.” 

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.” 

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice. 

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

~~

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed. 

She’s a traitor.

Punish her. 

Hurt her. 

Devour her. 

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you. 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her. 

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said. 

��...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved. 

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head. 

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor. 

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake. 

No… no! 

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever. 

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.” 

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

~~

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

~~

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another. 

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either. 

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first. 

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.” 

~~

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind. 

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life. 

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure. 

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!” 

“Boss, let’s go!” 

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about. 

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital? 

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter. 

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer. 

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.” 

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you. 

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life. 

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

~~

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café. 

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you. 

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute. 

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?” 

“Caw! Caw!” 

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

~~

And then, that day happened. 

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with. 

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman. 

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you. 

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of. 

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

~~

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional. 

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso. 

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look. 

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.” 

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love. 

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.” 

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”. 

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.” 

Like me. 

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.” 

“...Sleep tight, kitten.” 

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

~~

However, that same night was a different story. 

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness. 

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again. 

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

~~

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?” 

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him. 

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face. 

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

~~

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too. 

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone. 

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up. 

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body. 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.” 

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?” 

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night. 

Do you even recognize it? 

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…” 

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.” 

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.” 

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would. 

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

[a-hermit-pining]

LADS Men Role Reversal with Reader

AN: I love the idea of this. Works well with reader pov 🤌🏻🤌🏻 Also if anyone knows a top or gn reader blog for LADS please let me know (I do not own these characters)

Warning: Potential Spoilers. Be Mindful 👺

Pairing: Lads boys x gn reader

Genre: Role reversal & cannon divergence

Summary: What if places are switched. They are the bearer of Aether core and you are the past.

Rafayel:

You walk into the art museum, marveling at the strokes that lifetimes have failed to change. How is it that he still paints the same?

You are drawn to him as moths to flame.

In some divine way, despite being wrenched from your kingdom, fate is merciful to you. It always contrives a way for your path to cross his.

Your powers are long diminished, time is cruel like that. But the years spent in his world have given you enough leverage to hire him as a painter. To commission a portrait of yourself, just so you may have the mercy of watching him paint again.

This time, you wonder, will he, who has left you waiting for so long, remember you? Will he still remember how to love you?

You look at him, his furrowed brows, his pronounced pout, his dramatic tendency to flail and fall. He remains unchanged.

Xavier:

He is there before your eyes, as if conjured by the very moonlight itself.

One moment, you were slaying the Wandered. The next, you blinked to rest your eyes, and he was by your side, calling your name frantically, his hands steadying your shoulders.

You would have felt him, had you not been so tired. How could you not have known? Perhaps this is the last mercy the universe has to offer, to let you meet him for one final lifetime.

And so, it begins again.

The last dance of your last spring with him.

This lifetime will not see him sacrificed. None after this will either, because you will make sure of it.

Picking up your sword, you follow him, sidestepping his mumbled questions with ill-concealed fondness.

That last spring becomes the most beautiful of all the springs you have ever spent beside him.

Zayne:

In every reincarnation, you never quite know when the memories will return. But they always do. Lord Astra makes certain of it, allowing you the agony of foreknowledge.

It is the price you pay for leaving him. For choosing Zayne.

His presence comes at a steep cost.

But the grief of the past has never dampened the joy of another lifetime with him.

It has only made you foolishly stubborn, unyielding in your desire to defy his fate.

You meet him as a friend, a lover, a colleague in some lives. A riddling foreseer in others.

Yet, no matter how much time erodes the traces of your world, he remains untouched. In some twisted amusement, your Lord Astra ensures that Zayne always falls in love with you.

In every life, you cross paths. In every life, Zayne offers you his heart with the same sincerity. And you, despite the centuries of pain, accept it foolishly.

Because no matter the cost, you refuse to break his heart. All the foreknowledge in the world has failed to make you stop loving him.

Sylus:

Head of the Onichynus?

He seriously never stops surprising your ancient senses.

You grin at your mate as he guides you into the embellished mansion of his latest empire. Countless rebirths have failed to dull his chaos.

Somehow, they have also failed to make your heart any wiser.

So, you play your part, the spoiled aristocrat whisked- away to gather intel, watching him roll his eyes at your complaints.

Somewhere along the way, this endless cycle of separation and reunion has stopped aching. Instead, it hums beneath your skin, a yearning that lingers, waiting for him to remember.

He always remembers.

No matter what land you are born into, no matter what name you take, your mate always finds his way back to you.

You only have to wait. To play along with his games.

Who are you to complain, when he has so meticulously planned your first meeting?

Sometimes, even dragons play the part of a sheep.

Caleb:

You watch as he collapses in the academy lobby.

Your heart shudders at the sight of him, his gaunt face, his sunken eyes.

He has lost weight.

You caused this. Your death.

Every day, he wakes earlier than before. Every night, he loses more sleep. Working himself to the bone, chasing perfection, desperate to be the best among the aerospace cadets.

He still wears your dog tag pendant. The one he once gifted to you. It brings you some comfort.

You wish—oh, how you wish, to run to him. To hold him. To tell him you are alive.

To force him to rest. To forbid him from risky missions he volunteers for to progress faster into his role.

Yet, you cannot afford to. Not yet.

Someday, you will return to him. Stronger than you are now. You will make sure he never suffers again. Perhaps he doesn’t need you to do that, but you will no longer allow anyone to control both of your lives.

Not after how close you had come to losing him alongside your grandmother.

This time, you will keep him away from EVER’s claws.

Or rather, this time, you will be the one to hunt the monster that has haunted him for so long.

[firingstars]

in this life | ch. 3

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: "There's only one God, doll, and He's gonna bring me back to you." "I don't need God," you told him, fresh tears brimming over your eyes. "I just need you."

warnings: 18+, mdni, no smut in this chapter, reincarnation trope, language, mentions of financial instability, memories are written with italicizes, no use of y/n, angst, yearning, longing, everyone's alive no one is dead because i said so, alternating pov's

word count: 4.8k

a/n: i wanna write a hydra doctor/nurse x winter soldier fic so bad yall

previous chapter | next chapter

“B̸͔͉̣̈́̓͆́̐ͅŭ̶̖̜͔̍̽c̴͓̰̻̅́̐́͘k̸̢͉̿̑̊͜,” you say slowly, staring at the box in his hands. You see the brand on it, the pretty logo, and the carefully tied ribbon on the front. You know exactly which boutique this is from, and where he got it– upper Manhattan in the elite folk’s area. “What is this?”

“My anniversary present to you, pretty girl,” he chuckles, placing the box on the table. “You didn’t forget, did you? It’s tomorrow, if you did.”

How could you forget? You had the date marked on the calendar with a heart, and you stared at it every morning. One full year around the sun with him, after spending your entire life right by his side. One full year of you finally being able to call him yours. 

“C’mere, doll,” he hums, reaching for your hand to come closer, to come inspect his present. “I have other things planned for you, but this can’t wait. I’m giving it to you a day early since I want you to wear it for me when we go out tomorrow. We’re going dancing later in the night, and I want everyone to see how pretty you are.”

“You bought me a dress from Sally’s?” you whisper, your voice cracking. “How expensive–”

“Don’t worry about the cost. I’ll do anything for you,” he cuts you off, cupping your face in a hand. “Swear, baby, I made sure that the rest of our finances wouldn’t be affected because of this. It’s all yours to enjoy.”

He undoes the red bow carefully, then opens up the box for you to examine the dress for yourself. Your breath gets caught in your throat, almost afraid to let your oxygen even get close to it.

He got you a beautiful sky blue dress with white accents. The fabric was soft on your fingers, and you could see the subtle lace adornments that were done by hand and not machine. Moreover, you could see the sweat and labor he put into it– to get you this dress.

The late nights and early mornings for the past month and a half suddenly made sense. He was working more at the shop, coming home exhausted and smelling like oil and grease before you shoved him into the shower to freshen up so you could feed him dinner. He told you that it was because one of the guys got sick, and they needed someone to pull the weight. 

He’d been coming home, sounding exhausted, muscles wound up and tight with tension and pain from the amount he was working, but he never complained. Instead, he held you tighter at night, kissed you a little harder, and still whispered sweet nothings into your ear as if you strung up the stars in the sky just for him to view.

You turn away quickly, ignoring the brief feel of confusion and panic radiating off of your lover’s body. Instead, you go into the hallway closet, digging up a box that you had hidden under a few other loose items and return to him.

In the time that you thought he was being called to work more, you had also begun your own little project at home. You were able to work a few extra shifts as well to buy some nicer fabric, and decided to make him a new suit.

After all, you knew his measurements by heart. Whenever his clothes got a rip or tear, you would be the one fixing or adjusting his clothes. He would always tell you to leave it alone, but you never would. You would wait until he passed out from exhaustion then creep out into the living room to quietly mend his ripped clothes. Even in this past month and a half, you would fix up his clothes as his body grew larger from packing on more muscle from working longer and harder hours, you still continued to adjust your skills.

“It’s not as nice as the dress– but I made you a new suit. Your old one had some holes and stuff,” you tell him, eyes going watery. “I guess we can both look our best tomorrow for whatever date you have planned.”

He’s staring at you. You think his mouth is agape, but you can’t fully tell with the blur of his features. Then, you’re being scooped up into his arms as he spins you, showering you with kisses and love that make you forget your tears.

“You’re too good for me,” he tells you, a bit breathless. “I love you, you know that?”

“If anyone’s too good– it’s you,” you say with a laugh, cupping his face with your hands as you nod. He’s still holding you against his body, carrying you towards the bedroom. “You always take care of me, and do it so quietly.”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. For him, it is. “Never wanna see you sad or struggling, doll. You can rely on me. I’ll make sure the world can never hurt you even if I’m not right next to you.”

You giggle, then press a kiss to his lips. “The world could never keep me apart from you.”

Bucky finally took it upon himself to find out what happened to you after he left for war and never came back. Just as Steve said, you never settled down. There were no lovers, no flings, certainly no children. The closest you had to a family was Peggy, Peggy’s family, and a cat that you adopted closer to the end of your life. At the very least, Bucky felt the comfort of knowing that you weren’t totally alone throughout your life.

Other than that, you spent all your time by yourself. You went home to an empty apartment every night after work, you slept by yourself. You woke up, made breakfast for one, and faced the changing world on your own.

Peggy had come onto your doorstep after Steve had disappeared into the ice, informing you of both of their deaths. The two of you worked hard to make something out of the legacy Steve and Bucky left behind. 

While Bucky went through old files from the beginning of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had your name on it, Steve had visited him. Brought him an old box with your name written on the top of it.

“Before she died, she gave Peggy all her valuables,” Steve said softly. “And when I met Peggy again, she gave them to me. I’ve kept them here in the compound– I figured it would be better here than you accidentally finding them in our apartment.”

Bucky kept the box in the compound for a few days. He wasn’t ready to touch it, to go through whatever you deemed was valuable. Then, one day, he found the box was waiting for him on his bed. Steve must have brought it back home, quietly urging him to face his past. So, Bucky did. He slowly unboxed the memories, going through each item with caution.

Inside was an old teddy bear that he won you at the fair from your very first date together. You two had hung out often before, by yourselves without Steve, but this was different. This was after you both had revealed your feelings. Bucky remembered spending an entire five dollars trying to get you this bear, and how you tried stopping him from spending more and more, but he couldn’t let you walk out of that date empty handed. 

You laughed and called him insane for spending that amount of money on you, but he always told you that there wasn’t a price on the love that he had for you. Bucky would never forget the way your eyes glinted against the starlight. You had that teddy bear on your nightstand every night once you two shared an apartment, a quiet reminder of everything he promised you and more. 

A majority of the box were filled with handwritten notes that Bucky had given you over the years, some ranging from short and sweet things just letting you know he stepped out to grab some groceries to full on poems for you. He didn’t even know that you had all of these saved. 

A few of them were tear stained, and his chest clenched at the sight. He could imagine you, in your old age, going through the letters and notes late at night. He could see it clearly– a future where he was supposed to grow old with you, where you both were supposed to read your old letters together and laugh. Your future ended with you alone, preserving memories like a lifeline.

He found his original pair of dog tags in the box, carefully taken care of. There was no sign of rusting or wear or tear– you were gentle with them the entirety of your life. His heart ached at the thought of it, holding the small and fragile metal in his flesh hand as he thought about a life before everything had happened to him. 

Bucky found a scrap of fabric and lace cut from the dress he bought you from the first anniversary the two of you had together. He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. You cried that day as he held you in bed. You kept thanking him for the gift, as if you didn’t hand make him an entire suit in your free time without him knowing. All he did was buy something from a store. 

He found a locket, one that you used to wear around your neck. One that he gave you– one that had a picture of the two of you. He had his arms wrapped around you, his head pressed against yours. Both of you were smiling.

There were a couple more photos of the two of you in the box. He picked one up, his heart hammering loud in his chest as he stared at it. Though it was old, he could still make out every single one of your features. He remembered this day– the two of you saved enough money to get a professional picture taken together instead of something done in a fair. You were smiling softly at the camera, but he was looking at you. 

Bucky slipped the picture into his wallet, careful with the old material. He used to carry this picture with him everywhere. He decided he would do it again. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, and Bucky looked up. His friend was standing at the door, leaning against the doorframe. 

“How is it not her?” Bucky whispered, his voice cracking. He was fighting back the tears. The grief. The sorrow and the pain that he had carefully trained to hide away since he had finally gotten a hold of his mind once more. “She was– you saw her, Steve. She looks exactly the same.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve said, clenching his jaw. Bucky saw the pain on Steve’s face– you were Steve’s friend, too. The three of you were inseparable. Where Bucky was a pain in your ass growing up, Steve was the glue that held you both together until Bucky grew up. 

“Even the way she holds a pen is the same,” Bucky said, and he thought he sounded crazy– but it was the truth. When you took their order, he watched you. Every single movement, every breath, every blink. You were the same. “She spells her name the same, her posture is the same, the way she talks is the same– everything is the same, Steve.”

It was as if you stepped out of the forties and re-entered his life in the modern world again.

“She recognized us,” Steve said, letting out a breath before shaking his head, “but not… us.”

Bucky buried his face in his hands, trying to calm himself down. “I looked into her ancestors. She doesn’t have any ties to… to the version we know. None. How does this make sense?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered, and Bucky’s shoulders slumped. 

He let his hands drop, his eyes fixating on the box in front of him again. These were your most valuable possessions– and all of them had something to do with himself. Bucky wanted to scream, but his body wouldn’t let him. All he could do was sit there in silence, hot tears streaming down his face.

Your head is pounding from the seminar. It wasn’t mandatory for you to attend by any means, but it was good for you to have it on your resume for future references. It was information that you already knew, already had researched on your own time. At the very least, you would be able to get some extra credit from the professor that had let you know about the lecture.

Stepping out into the New York street, you checked the time on your phone. You didn’t have to get to the diner for another handful of hours. You were hungry, and you had some cup ramen in your pantry that was calling your name. If you rushed, you would be able to catch the subway to get back to your side of the city as soon as possible, giving you a chance to study and unwind before you went back to work.

You walked down the street, your eyes doing the same thing they always did.

They scanned the faces of strangers. You looked people up and down, seeing if their build was similar to the man in your dreams. You knew your attempts were futile. You knew you would never find him, not when he wasn’t even real to begin with.

You let out a sigh. You had long stopped being disappointed after failing to find someone that matched your dreams. Still, you couldn’t fight the small hurt in your chest. You stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light to alert you that it was okay to cross with the rest of the pedestrians beside you. You let your gaze wander once more, and your heart stuttered.

On an outside patio, you saw him. He wasn’t alone– he was with his friend, enjoying a lunch together in the middle of the city at a nice restaurant. When the light turned, your feet were moving before you could stop yourself. 

You drop your textbooks and notebooks in front of the two super soldiers, both men jostling in surprise to look up at you. You don’t blame them– you did just crash their lunch without a single word of arrival. You dragged a spare chair from another table to theirs, taking a seat. You took in a sharp breath, ignoring the thumping in your chest as you crossed your arms.

“Which one of you harassed Tony Stark into creating an entirely new scholarship that only has me as the recipient?” you asked, eyebrows raised at both of them. 

You went home and did another round of research on Stark Foundation scholarships after your phone call with Peter. You found your specific scholarship at the very end of the list– newly added, with no other information on how to even qualify for the scholarship. It hadn’t existed before.

You even pressed Peter to get a meeting with the infamous Tony Stark, who had been avoiding your emails like the plague. Peter, bless his heart and soul, was caught in the middle. It really wasn’t fair to him, but you were at your wits end. You were being given something that wasn’t meant for you– and it felt wrong.

Both men shared a look. Steve lowered his sandwich, clearing his throat before he decided to let his gaze wander away. Bucky looked a lot more interested in a bird that landed nearby, nipping at a few crumbs on the ground. 

“Was the ten grand not enough?” you whispered, reeling. “That money– it’s more than enough for the tuition for the rest of the year.”

“Did you use it yet?” Bucky asked, finally looking back at you. You blinked at him, taken aback.

“Why would I use it?” you asked, scandalized.

“Because it was your tip. For excellent customer service.”

“No, I didn’t use it! I’ve been waiting for you to come back to my damn diner so I could give it back!” you exclaimed at him. 

“Pity. Really liked your pancakes there. Guess I can’t come back,” Bucky sighed. Steve nodded in agreement, both men beginning to continue eating their lunch.

“Are you serious?” you asked, eyes wide in disbelief. You watch as Bucky flags over the waitress to come by.

“Can we get another club sandwich?” he asked, watching the waitress write down the order. Then he pauses, quickly adding, “Ah, don’t add any pickles though. Extra green peppers. And a raspberry iced tea, please.”

“Did you run intelligence on my favorite foods, too? And the foods I don’t like?” you asked, frowning at him. 

“Made an educated guess,” Bucky tells you, a smile forming onto his lips. It’s faint, but you can see the corners of his lips turn up. There’s something distant in his eyes, but it quickly goes away as he returns to his sandwich. You can’t help but stare a bit longer at him. You want to etch his features into your memories so you can never have the chance to forget this face again.

Again? 

“You’re not denying that you ran a background check on me,” you quickly said, shoving away the nagging thoughts in your head.

“How else would we have gotten your name for that scholarship? We also needed to see what your field of study was so that Stark could grant you a fitting title, too,” Bucky said. Steve nodded once more, like some sort of yes man. 

You were in shock. Disbelief. Not only wasn’t he denying it, he was confirming it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had your social security number at this point. You slumped back in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose as you closed your eyes tight. You took a deep breath, trying to control your temper. 

“Why me?” you asked, voice a bit tired. None of this is making sense to you.

“You gave us a complimentary dinner,” Steve answered immediately, giving you a small shrug.

“I don’t think a bill that cost less than fifty dollars warrants paying for my entire schooling and a twenty thousand percent tip,” you said dryly. 

“You deserve it,” Bucky replied with another shrug. The sandwich and your drink came out relatively fast, and he moves to organize your books out of the way so you can eat. “You haven’t had lunch yet, right?”

“Did your intelligence background check on me say that, too?” you frowned at him, though the sandwich is calling for you. Your stomach growls right on cue, both men smiling a bit as Steve pushes the food closer to you. 

Bucky lets out a soft laugh, and shakes his head.

“No, doll. It’s just a little past noon,” he told you, and your heart stutters in your chest. 

“Doll?” you repeated, watching him pause.

“Old forties habit,” he quickly dismissed, and you glance at Steve. He’s pretending to not even be here, in this conversation. “Sorry. I’m sure it made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s not that…” you trailed off, blinking at your sandwich. “I just have a lot of dreams of someone calling me that. I think I just got surprised, I guess.”

You let out a small breath and begin to eat lunch. There’s a silence amongst the three of you that you can’t really place. It’s not awkward, by any means, which feels somewhat strange. This is the first true conversation that you’ve had with either of the men outside of a working environment, but it feels comfortable– like this is right. Like you’ve been in a similar situation before, just eating lunch together in the middle of New York’s busy streets.

“Dreams, huh?” Bucky finally murmured.

“Yeah. Dreams… Think it's in the forties. I never see his face, though. I can hear him and feel him, but I never remember his name when I wake up. I think I might’ve watched a show when I was younger or let my grandpa’s stories from the forties get ingrained too deeply in my head as a kid,” you said, trying to joke. Except, it really isn’t a joke to you. 

Thinking about your dreams on a deeper level rather than just accepting it as a fact of your own life makes your head hurt. There was a time when you had poured each dream into a journal, tried dissecting each scene, but only ended up in tears that you couldn’t explain. The sense of loss was too heavy. You didn’t know what you were grieving. You didn’t know who you were grieving for.

“Thor says reincarnation is possible,” Steve suddenly spoke, both of you looking at him. “I’m sure it’s not just an Asgard thing. Maybe it’s a past life of yours.”

“Steve,” Bucky muttered. You can hear the warning in his voice, and you’re not sure why there even has to be a warning.

“I thought about that,” you said, and you meant it. You take another bite of your sandwich then cringe at the sudden vinegary taste in your mouth. “I don’t really think it’s true, though.”

There's a slice of pickle slice in there. You pull apart the bread to inspect, certain to find even more pickles throughout the sandwich. You’re about to fish them out yourself, when Bucky’s hand moves. He’s already peeling them off, and adding it to his sandwich, like it’s second nature to him.

Because it is, a voice whispers in the back of your head, followed by a sudden ache. 

You clear your throat, pushing down the tightness in your chest.

“If it is a past life, then that’s kinda sad,” you finally said, letting out another slow breath. 

“What’s so sad about it?” Steve questioned.

“She– maybe me– misses him. The man I dream about, the life that possibly could have been mine,” you shrug, watching the perspiration on the raspberry iced tea slip down the glass. “I wake up feeling like there’s someone missing, and I don’t even know who to look for.”

You don’t even know why you’re voicing these thoughts out loud. The last time you ever said anything remotely similar was back in middle school, when you saw a therapist for the first and last time before deciding to lie to your parents and tell them that you were fixed. 

There’s something natural about the way you feel here, with them. The way Steve’s eyes watch you like he sees something beyond your words. He nods thoughtfully, taking in every single sentence you speak.

And Bucky. He looks like he would rip the world in half if you asked him to. At your words, he seems conflicted. There’s a storm raging behind his eyes that you can’t place, but you find yourself feeling the same sense of longing. You want to touch his face, rub your fingers over the crease between his brows, and reassure him that you’re okay. That what you’re feeling will pass, as it always does. 

You’re not even sure why you feel the itch to reach for him.

“Anyways,” you said, clearing your throat. “I hope it’s not a past life. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it is. The soldier’s probably long gone, don’t you think?”

“You never know,” Steve said softly.

“You tell me,” you said, giving him a smile. “How many of your World War II veteran friends are still around today?”

Steve paused, then looked at Bucky. “There’s one right there.”

You glanced at the man, too. He was still looking at you, hanging on to every single word that passed through your lips like it was a lifeline. 

“What do you think?” you asked him. “You think my soul has been recycled and brought back to this earth for a second run?”

Bucky stares at you. You hold his gaze. It’s not uncomfortable to be watched by him, you realize. If anything, you feel at ease. There isn’t an ounce of judgement in his eyes, even though you said some crazy things that have made doctors look at you sideways before. Then, you watch as his shoulders shift as he finally breathes.

“Finish your food,” he grunts, tearing his eyes away from you to go back to his meal as well.

You let your eyes linger on his figure for a few more moments before you went back to your sandwich. The three of you ate in silence for the remainder of the lunch. New York continued to buzz all around you, but none of you seemed to comment or mind it. Once again, you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that this was right. That this was where you were supposed to be.

When the check came, neither man let you see it. 

“Our treat. Since you paid for our dinner,” Steve said.

“Do I have to remind you guys about that insane tip?” you asked wearily.

“Then my treat,” Steve shrugged. “Bucky left that, not me.”

“I still won’t take it back, by the way,” Bucky added.

You slumped a bit in your seat, letting out a deep sigh. You could tell he was serious from the look in his eyes, though you didn’t have any real prior knowledge as to why you knew this. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, checking the time. You still had enough time to get home to study a bit. You had a presentation tomorrow to defend your field of study, and you needed to go over your notes.

Just thinking about it made you frown– one of the ethics professors really despised your choice of work, after all. You couldn’t blame her. When you really thought about it, you were going into the memories of a person to dissect what made their memories traumatic to be able to restore parts of a person that they may have lost in whatever scenario they were in. 

This professor had been arguing with you since you chose this study to pursue, and you had been fighting back ever since. You’ve been consistently proving your point. You even took more humanities classes than necessary to prove to the scientific board that you weren’t inhumane in your approach with your study– that you were doing this in order to help other humans. Of course, at the end of the day, you understood that there would always be people that had issues with change.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, and you gave him a tight smile.

“Just thinking about a project, and a teacher who might try to fail me. If she does, I might end up repeating the semester,” you said with a deep sigh. “Then that scholarship you two got me would be for nothing.”

“She sounds horrible,” Steve commented, and you caught the look that both men shared. Your eyes widened slightly.

“Please don’t get her fired with whatever connections you two have,” you quickly said, sitting up straight. “It’s fine– if I can’t prove my research to her, then I won’t make it once I graduate. So just– it’s fine, okay?”

“If you say so,” Steve said, sitting back in his seat. You let out a sigh of relief, closing your eyes briefly. 

“Well,” you said, standing up. “It was really nice seeing you both again. I do have to finalize my notes for my project though, so I gotta get going.”

“Good luck. You’ll do great,” Steve told you, giving you a small smile.

Bucky shifted, grabbing all your textbooks and notebooks off the table. He organized them into a neat stack, and handed them over to you. You smiled gratefully at him, reaching to take the books from him. 

Your fingers brushed against his, a shock of electricity rushing through your body at the small touch. You flinched, almost dropping all of your things. Thankfully, Bucky still had a good hold of all of the books, holding on tighter to everything.

“Are you okay, doll?” he asked again, but this time for a different reason.

“Great,” you forced out, taking your things from him. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he said with a single nod. 

“And thank you for lunch,” you quickly added. “I really appreciated it.”

“Of course,” Steve grinned at you.

You took one more long look at both super soldiers before you picked up your bag from the chair, slinging it over your shoulder. You walked away, feeling heavier than before. Each step felt harder than the last, like walking away was the last thing that you should be doing. You made it down the block before the urge to turn around was too strong.

They were already gone.

next chapter

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[hazelira]

yours, finally

As Sunghoon held you in his arms, his body finally beginning to relax after days of restless guilt, he felt a faint, almost imperceptible movement. Your hand, weak and trembling, rested against his chest before you softly patted him in your sleep.

It was such a small gesture, yet it carried an unexpected weight. Sunghoon’s breath hitched, his heart constricting painfully at the realization. Even in your sleep, even after everything you had endured, you still sought to comfort him.

A surge of emotion swept through him—guilt, love, regret, and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. His arms tightened ever so slightly around you, his hand resting on the small of your back, careful not to hurt you.

He dipped his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. The act was tender, almost hesitant, as if he feared you might vanish if he allowed himself this moment of vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, your breathing remaining soft and steady against him. Sunghoon closed his eyes, his lips still lingering on your head as he promised himself, once again, that he would make things right.

No matter how long it took, no matter what he had to do—he would ensure you were never hurt again. And maybe, just maybe, he could earn the love you had always shown him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

For now, though, he allowed himself to simply hold you, the sound of your steady heartbeat against his chest a quiet reminder that you were still here—with him. And that was enough.

As the hours passed and the night deepened, Sunghoon found himself unable to fully sleep. He stayed there, holding you in his arms, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His thoughts swirled like a storm, but for the first time in years, it wasn’t about his family, his responsibilities, or the ghost of a love he had clung to for far too long.

It was about you.

He thought back to the moments he had dismissed, the glances he had ignored, and the warmth you had tried to give him despite the walls he had built between you. He had spent so long convinced that you were nothing more than a pawn in a game neither of you had chosen to play.

But now, with you lying in his arms, fragile yet still trying to comfort him, he saw it clearly.

It was you.

It had always been you.

You were the one who had stayed, even when he gave you nothing in return. You were the one who protected him and his family, even at the cost of your own safety. You were the one who cared for him, who saw the man beneath the cold exterior he’d worked so hard to maintain.

His past lover—someone he once thought was his entire world—faded into the background of his mind like a distant, unimportant memory. What he had with her was gone, a fleeting chapter in a book he no longer cared to read.

Because you were the one standing at the center of his life now.

Sunghoon shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and gazed at your peaceful face. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, his touch impossibly soft. His chest tightened as he thought of everything you had endured, how blind he had been to your pain.

“I’m such a fool,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of the realization. “You’ve been here all along, and I was too blind to see it.”

His fingers gently traced the faint bruise on your temple, his heart aching at the thought of how much you had suffered, all while he had ignored the love and loyalty you had quietly offered him.

“I love you,” he admitted, the words escaping before he could stop them. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t grand—it was a quiet confession, spoken to the darkness of the room and the fragile soul resting in his arms. “I love you so much, and I didn’t even realize it until now.”

For the first time in years, Sunghoon felt something shift in him, as if a weight he hadn’t even known he was carrying had been lifted. The love he thought he’d lost had been right here, all along, waiting for him to wake up and see it.

You stirred in your sleep, nuzzling closer to him, and Sunghoon tightened his hold on you, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead.

You were his person.

And he would spend the rest of his life proving that to you, no matter what it took.

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[ode2rin]

US, AGAIN .ೃ

pairing. itoshi sae x gn!reader

genre. second chance (exes back to lovers!) | a bit of small town romance | a sprinkle of childhood friends to lovers (past) | angst with a happy ending 

content/warnings. 5.2k+ wc | characters are aged 25 in the present | pro-athlete!sae x coffee shop owner!reader | sae left for spain at 19 in here | mentions of sae’s vague past (especially the striker dream) | itoshi bros conflict never happened here let me be delusional | heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: itoshi sae returns to the only place on earth he vows to never set foot again.

💭 flashbacks are italicized and indented :>

Six years.

In those six long years of his absence, you couldn't deny that you rehearsed countless scenarios of encountering him upon his return. 

If by chance he still wanted to see you, or even look at you, you imagined giving him a small smile, a carefully crafted facade of composure, before gracefully walking away, as if life had moved on effortlessly for both of you.

That’s what you imagined. Just walk away, like how life went on for the both of you. 

But reality never seemed to align with your reveries. The sight of him wasn't remotely serene enough to prompt a composed exit. Seeing him made your throat tighten, and your heart danced in a rhythm only he could create.

Six damn years had passed since you last saw him on that balcony, and now, with him back in town, avoiding him seemed like the only right thing to do.

You don’t know how long he’ll be here, but it is now your life mission to avoid him at all cost. Today's encounter was just an unfortunate event—an inevitable twist of fate. Their house was literally right in front of your family's, making it hard to escape the nearness of the past.

“So, he’s back in town?” 

Hari's voice, your co-worker and now a dear friend, snapped you back from the reverie of yesterday's memories. The sound of her voice broke through the nostalgic haze, pulling you back to the present.

“What?”

“I asked if your childhood friend who is also a superstar slash professional athlete slash your only ex is back,” she mischievously asked, even miming quotation marks to emphasize each title she created.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at her antics. Your gaze drifted to the freshly baked pastries, their delightful aroma greeting your senses like a warm embrace as you artfully displayed them on the shelves. The familiar scent of coffee and delightful confections used to calm you, but now it mingled with the storm of emotions inside.

“Yeah, it's basically the talk of the town. He's famous after all,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant and still focused on your work, using it as a shield to hide your vulnerability.

But in reality, the sight of him earlier had caught you off guard, and you had turned the other way to avoid him. Your heart was still racing from the almost encounter, and the comforting ambiance of your coffee shop provided little solace.

“Did he see you?”

“I pray to all saints that he didn’t,” you deadpanned, your facade of composure beginning to falter.

“What did he look like now?”

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to that fleeting glimpse of him earlier.

Far from what was once mine. “Good.”

“That’s it? Good?”

No. He looked gorgeous. He looked painfully gorgeous.

“What do you want me to say?” you countered, throwing a side glance to her persistence.

In that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of how much he had changed. He looked undeniably handsome, lean, and with a certain maturity that hadn't been there before.

He… looked different.

And that's good—for you and for him. It meant that life there treated him well, and it eased some of the lingering guilt you carried.

You and Hari fell into a consuming silence, your backs turned away from each other. Even with closed eyes, you sensed that she wanted to ask something. You didn't want to initiate the conversation, but this suffocating silence had to go.

As you stepped behind the counter, you were met with Hari's concerned eyes and a voice laden with hesitation. “What are you going to do then?” she carefully asked.

You pressed your lips together, momentarily at a loss for words.

So you did what you do best: mask hurting with laughter.

“Is there anything I should do?” you paused, the sound of your fake laughter ringing in your ears. “It's been years. We made a choice.”

But Hari wasn't ready to let the matter rest, and you don’t know how to tell her you’re close to calling it a day. “You made a choice for him,” she countered gently, her tone filled with empathy.

Stunned was an understatement. Caught off guard would be an apt description. But speechless was exactly how you felt.

That, you couldn't mask with anything.

So you did what you weren’t best at: admitting the truth.

“And I’ll do it again,” you whispered in return. It was faint, because it was more for you than more of a reply to her. 

You were both young, and half oblivious to what it would be like outside, where the world wasn’t painted in golden hues and the gentle waves were replaced by blaring cars.

You were both seventeen, young and living for the hope of it all.

But you lived for days like those – days where both of you just had to be kids still. No worries, no voices of what might come.

“Tell me about your dreams, Sae.” “Tch. You already know about it.”

You did. All of it, you knew. Since you were kids, no one knew him like you did. You were his lover and confidant. You knew about it, all too well and all too much.

“Come on!” you persisted, giving him an enthusiastic look. “The sky looks so pretty in this sunset, I want it to know about us.” The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Sae sat side by side in the sand. The sound of gentle waves caressed your ears, creating a serene backdrop for your beach date. He hesitated for a moment, looking out at the horizon. Then there it was, a glint of determination flashed in his usually reserved eyes. “To be the best striker in the world.” You couldn't help but be captivated by the sight. It was the first time you had seen such an unusual spark in his eyes. Sae's gaze was often cold and impersonal, but now it was as if stars were hanging in his eyes, reflecting the infinite possibilities of his dreams. Sae is handsome, mysteriously beautiful even. But this, nothing will beat how dreamy he looks when he speaks of his craft. You liked this look on him - so ambitious, so driven. It made your heart flutter with admiration. Seeing this glint in his eyes right now, you knew you wanted to do anything in your power to let it stay there.

And you did, you held on and held out. Until you turned nineteen, when you had let him go to the big cities where he rightfully belonged. 

You smiled, a genuine, heartwarming smile, and leaned in to press a tender kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure you will be the best.”

Maybe you bit off more than what you could chew, but in the end, you’d do it all over again. Because what you did, the choice you made – it was for the best.

You were both nineteen, young and eager to grasp the world's offerings with hopeful hands. 

But despite the certainty you tried to hold onto, there were nights when the memories tugged at your heartstrings like it did now. You knew it was the right choice, that you both needed to chase your dreams separately — especially his dreams. But it didn't erase the whispers of what-ifs that occasionally crept into your mind.

But life — life went on. Life never waits for anyone, anyway. And so, you worked diligently to craft a future that no longer had room for regrets.

But love leaves echoes, and his presence back in town stirred those dormant feelings. With him being in the same place, you felt like a stranger in your own town.

It was easier when he was thousands of miles away, an untouchable star on a different horizon. But now, with the universe conspiring to bring you close again, you couldn't help but feel like a wanderer in the galaxy of memories you built together.

After all, everything here in this town is about you and him. 

Six years.

Was it that long? He couldn’t really tell. Maybe time really does pass fast when your life is falling apart.

It has been six years since Sae has sat on the balcony of his childhood home. And like the sick bastard fate was, he’s welcomed by the sight of your horrified yet still so damn fucking beautiful face.

Perhaps the saints you prayed to didn’t hear any of your pleas, because despite calling out to each one, Sae saw you.

There you were, a flicker in the periphery of his vision, desperately trying to avoid him. He was trained to be very aware of his field of vision, so there was no way he wasn’t able to notice your frantic leaving and the hurried closing of your house’s door as you noticed him. 

He let you be, holding back the overwhelming desire to call out your name like he used to when both of you were running late to class. He let you be, because if you were to ask him, he wouldn’t know how to look you in the eye without a thousand words reflecting on his own. 

[Attention, everyone. This is the final boarding call for passengers of flight 924 to Madrid, Spain. Again, this is the final –] “Sae, you’re going to miss your flight. They’re not coming.” No. “They’re not coming, Sae. You have to get on the plane.” No. No. Shut up.

He needed you there, more than anyone. A thousand people could cheer and show up for Itoshi Sae, but his eyes will always search the crowd for just one — just yours.

Yet, alas, you were nowhere to be found. And so, that very same day, Sae vowed to never come back to this place.

He hated this town and you, he’s convinced.

Sae had always been indifferent to a lot of people, everyone knew that. But never in a hundred years would anyone who knew you both think you’d be on that list. And deep down, he didn’t want to believe it either – until that day you decided not to show up when you promised you would.

He wasn't stupid. He had an inkling of why you did what you did. Yet, irrationality overpowered reason, and all he wanted that day was to run the distance between the airport and your house – to see your face, to remind you that he had plans, plans for both of you.

When Sae’s manager informed him that he needed to come home for a while to renew his passport, it was as if all of his suppressed recollections of this place – of you, came pouring out to his soul all at once.

Every street, every corner, every memory — they all threatened to consume him. His family, Rin, this town, and you – you were all the things he left behind for the dream.

Dream. Best Striker in the world. What did it even mean? Long ago, he thought he knew.

But it had to work. Everything had to work. He lost you for this dream. And if he loses it too, then what does that make him? A sore failure. And Sae was never known to be admissible to failing.

Whatever hell he encountered on the other side of the world, he swore he would never return home. Even when he was traversing across a path to ruin of being the person he thought he would be, he would never ever choose to come home.

Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but home.

So there he was, the renowned glorious prodigy of japan. He was close to everything after countless mishaps. 

He’s getting closer and closer to the new dream yet getting farther and farther away from home.

Home. What does it even mean? Lately, he doesn’t even know. 

And after that day, no one ever mentioned your name to him. No one in his new world knew about you. No one knew how Itoshi Sae's world used to revolve around someone's soft smiles and easy eyes. 

He never asked anyone not to mention you; he wasn't one to ask, after all. But for some reason, no one dared to. Not even Rin. It was as if one mention of you in his presence was a carefully crafted brick used to make his castles crumble to the ground.

He hated that, but maybe they were right. Because with just a second's worth of a glimpse of you from earlier, Sae indeed felt his castles crumbling, piece by piece.

He hates you, for making his resolve crumble. For being the one person who can make his vow to never look back fall apart.

He hates you, because everything in this forsaken place is about you and him. Memories of your shared youth are etched into the very walls and streets, haunting him like ghosts of a past he can't escape.

He hates you, for not trusting you two would work it out somehow, and for giving up before the game even began.

He hates you, because it was easier that way. Easier to pretend he didn't care, that you didn't matter, and that you were just another soul he knows a little too much of.

Sae could go on and on listing a hundred more, and yet he knows, only one of it was true – and that he hates you for making him convince himself that he does, just to cope with leaving half of his heart to the only place he vowed never to come back to.

It was a jinx to say that yesterday’s encounter was already an unfortunate event, because today, you literally learned a whole new degree of unfortunate and unlucky – by having Itoshi Sae as your first customer of the day. 

“Welcome! How may I help you toda— S-Sae.”

And to even top it off, today was Hari’s day off. It meant that you’re currently alone in the same confined four-cornered room with the person you swore you would avoid like it’s your life mission.

Damn it, Hari. Of all days. Her day off really had to be today.

Itoshi Sae, in the goddamn flesh, is standing in your place two meters away from you, yet you’re having a hard time feeling your feet on the ground and your heart beating so damn loud. 

He wasn’t looking at you (thank god), and had his eyes exploring the place with a neutral expression playing on his face. Suddenly, you feel like sixteen again back when he was looking at the first set of cookies you’ve ever baked and you were dying to hear what he thinks of your craft.

“It’s yours?”

You gulp. 

You gulped down the urge to tear up with how much his voice changed. You gulped down the urge to cry because he assumed you had your dream turn into reality too.

“Yeah,” you replied in whisper, your eyes following where he was looking, trying to avoid any chance it will meet his, “it’s not much but —”

“It’s beautiful.” Even before Sae could hear your meek comment of yourself, he cut you off.

You were always like that —downplaying your hard work, belittling yourself even before someone does. He hated that about you. 

He used to get mad at you for it, especially when someone made fun of you at school and you didn’t defend yourself. He always makes you cry whenever he points it out, so he stopped. Instead, he made it his role to rebuild your confidence. Sae wasn't known for being generous in compliments. It would probably take one hand to count all the instances that he genuinely called someone along the lines of not dumb, stupid, lukewarm. 

But it was never the case with you. With you, to say beautiful was always a second nature to Sae's tongue.

And he wasn’t lying though. Your coffee shop was really charmingly cozy, and so like you. It’s so much alike to what you used to tell him how you envisioned it would be. 

The coffee shop was a quaint haven nestled right at the edge of the sandy shore. Its exterior, adorned with weathered wooden panels and soft, warm hues, exuded a rustic charm that welcomed passersby with open arms. Sunlight spilled through large windows, casting gentle rays that danced upon the vintage, mosaic-tiled floor.

It’s beautiful, and it’s in front of our place. He wanted to say to you, but he stopped at beautiful not wanting to make things more awkward than it should.

The coffee shop, it’s right in front of the beach. It’s in front of that one spot you and him used to call ours. 

It’s the first thing he noticed before coming inside, and it made him wonder whether you knew or he’s the only one who remembers it even now.

Bashful, you uttered a silent thank you to his remark, “What would you like to order?” you followed up, trying to maintain composure despite your heart racing in your chest.

Noticing that he’s been too silent for someone who’s about to order something, you looked up to your menu, and immediately, you understood his silence. If one were to point out, it is too immediate for someone who’s almost strangers to each other.

“We have non-caffeinated drinks too,” you hurriedly said to him, your voice quivering slightly as you tried to break the spell of awkward silence.

He gulps, his eyes locked with yours in a moment that felt like eternity.

He can’t drink coffee, it ruins his body clock, and you knew that. You still know that.

It appears that he's not the only one who remembers, after all.

A thousand emotions danced in his eyes, each one a testament to the love that once blossomed between you. The coffee shop, once a quaint haven, now felt like a crucible of emotions, and the atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of what could have been.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn't look away, despite the rush of memories and unspoken words flooding your mind. It was as if time had folded in on itself, and you were once again those young souls who found solace in each other's presence.

But this was different, much more complicated. The past was a turbulent sea, and even though you had both moved on with your lives, there was still a deep, lingering connection that couldn't be severed.

Yet, you knew better than to let those emotions take control. You made a choice, you have to stand by it.

You were no longer the naive teenagers who believed love could conquer all. Reality had taught you both harsh lessons, and the wounds of the past still lingered, threatening to reopen with each stolen glance.

“I’ll have your best seller of it then,” he finally broke the silence, his voice steady despite the tempest inside.

With a nod, you turned to prepare his order, your hands trying to steady themselves. You couldn't help but wonder if he noticed the tremor in your fingers or the way your heart seemed to echo in every beat.

As you handed him his drink, your fingertips brushed lightly against his hand, and for a brief moment, the world stood still.

He took the cup from you, and for a fleeting moment, you both lingered, almost as if neither of you wanted to let go. He could stay in this, playing pretend. Pretend none of it happened, pretend he never left, pretend it worked out in the end.

But he can’t, not when you stepped back first, breaking the contact between you and reminding him of the choice you made.

“Thank you,” he managed to say, his voice softer now, filled with a hint of something even he couldn't quite decipher.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the moment passed, slipping through your fingers like sand. He turned to leave, and you watched him walk away, every step taking him farther from the life you once shared.

Perhaps, in some parallel universe, there existed a version of you who chose differently, who stayed intertwined with him in a tale of love that defied all odds. But here, in this reality, both of you were no longer who you used to be.

In this universe, you're just some two ghosts standing in the place of you and him, haunted by the memories of what once was while trying to remember what it feels to have a heartbeat.

After Sae’s visit yesterday, saying that you weren’t doing fine would be a gross understatement. 

Your emotions were all over the place, and you couldn't seem to find a stable ground for your thoughts. It didn't help when your parents casually mentioned that he was leaving town later today. Apparently, Mrs. Itoshi had a little gossip session with the neighbors, unknowingly revealing a piece of her oldest son's business.

He’s leaving, and that's good—for you and for him.

As you stood behind the counter of the coffee shop, you absentmindedly glanced out the window, your eyes drawn to the beach. The sight of the shore brought back a flood of memories.

Maybe in another life, the two of you could still dance along the sandy shore, playfully splashing water at each other. He would chase after you, catching hold of your waist as he sweeps you off your feet. And perhaps, just perhaps, you would have the chance to embrace him tightly once again, with your arms wrapped around his neck while you share a kiss as greedy and fiery as the sea’s yearning for the moon.

And maybe, in another life, your story wouldn’t end with both of you being strangers who know a little too much about each other.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the tears streaming down your cheeks until Hari whispered, “Y/N... you're crying.”

“Oh, I am,” you admitted, trying to regain your composure.

Your heart lurched as you tried to suppress the tears, but they kept flowing relentlessly. “Hari…” you whispered, shocked by your own emotional outpouring.

Hari's eyes reflected pity as she watched you, her voice soft and understanding. “Go,” she encouraged, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Get your man. I'll take care of everything here.”

The words hit you like a lifeline, a spark of hope igniting within you. You quickly removed your apron and grabbed your keys, determined to catch him before it was too late. 

But before you could dash out, Hari's voice echoed through the shop, loud and clear, “Go! Be happy! And for the love of god, no more sacrifices as a love language!”

With one last glance at her and your coffee shop, you rushed out the door.

The airport seemed like a maze of bustling strangers as you frantically searched for the departure gates. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the fear of missing him consuming you.

Desperation and determination fueled your steps as you approached the flight attendant, your voice trembling, “Flight to Spain — I need to know about the flight to Spain for today.”

The attendant looked at you with sympathy, “I'm sorry, but all flights to Spain have already left. The last one left twenty minutes ago.”

Your heart sank, but you couldn't give up that easily. “Can you check again? Please. I-I need to see him. Please.”

The attendant double-checked, but the outcome remained unchanged. 

Twenty damn minutes. You lost him in just that short amount of time.

Your heart shattered as you realized you had missed your chance. The desperation in your eyes was evident as you felt your world crumbling around you.

In the midst of the bustling airport, you allowed yourself to grieve for what could have been and for the chances you never took.

Six years ago, you were supposed to be here. And maybe if you did, you wouldn't find yourself six years after, wishing you did things differently.

The drive back felt like the longest journey of your life. 

The sinking sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink as you approached the familiar place. As you got closer, you noticed that the shop was already closed, and you assumed Hari had taken care of everything. 

But what caught you off guard was the sight of Sae standing there, in front of your place, with a suitcase by his side, as if he were meant to be on a flight rather than standing there.

“You're here,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest as you got closer.

“I’m here.”

“Why didn't you leave?” you asked.

Because I’m done convincing myself that I hate you, Sae hesitated to say.  “Why did you go to the airport?” he countered instead, avoiding your question.

Because I’m done telling myself that I did the right thing. 

There were so many things you wanted to say, but the words were caught in your throat. You bit your lip, not ready to answer his question just yet.

Impatient and desperate, Sae took his chances to ask you the only question that mattered to him at this point, “Tell me you don't love me anymore. I will go. I will do as you please. I just need to hear it from you.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden question, but Sae wasn’t done yet. “Answer me. It’s a yes or no question.”

Lost in a whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't hold back the torrent of words that poured from your heart.

“A yes or no question, you say? Every night, I think of you.”

With each word, your voice wavered, and you couldn't help but express the worries that had plagued you during his absence.

“Were you eating properly? Does the food there suit your liking? You’re a bit picky. Is it too hot there? Were you taking your supplements? Were you being hard on yourself again? Is... is there someone new? There must be, right?”

As the words left your lips, you realized just how much you had been consumed by thoughts of him, wondering about every aspect of his life, even when he was miles away from you.

His reaction to you holding forth seemed to intensify at your last question, but right now, you weren’t ready to listen to him. He needs to listen to you.

“Every single night of the past six years, I yearned for you. I yearned to have you close. I yearned to hold your face just once more. And fuck, I would’ve traded all my tomorrows for just one yesterday with you.”

With those words, the floodgates of emotion burst open, and tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Fuck, six years. For six years, you held on and held out. Would it have been easier if both of you had tried, and along the way, lost? Would it have alleviated the pain of what-ifs and what could have been's if you had bargained, if you had gambled? Or would it all have led you right back to this moment, grappling with the same heartache and uncertainty?

Finally, meeting his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own emotions in his. But you weren’t done yet.

“And you dare ask me if I love you. Well, does that answer your fucking question, Itoshi?”

“Then, don’t cross it out. Don’t ever cross it out again.”

Cross what…out?

“I saw your letter,” Sae admitted, causing a momentary confusion to wash over you. 

My letter… Bewildered, you couldn't form the right words, and he took it as a sign to continue, and to close the distance between you to hold your hands.

“Tell me, how could I leave after reading that, knowing the only soul who truly knew me was here? You own me, Y/N.”

“I told you countless times before, you own me,” Sae reaffirmed, his grip on your hand tightening as he drew it closer to his lips, planting tender kisses upon your skin. 

“There was no one,” he continued, his words carrying a sense of reassurance. “And there's no other warmth comparable to yours that I'd ever let myself bask in. And if there's any, I'd be only fooling myself, pretending it was you instead.”

Sae's voice grew softer, yet resolute. “You own me, even when I'm on the other side of the world. You own me, Y/N. Even in the distance that separated us, even in the years that you claim I'm not."

He stepped closer, his eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “No place can ever own me as much as you do. So, don't ever cross your I love you's to me. I want them – all. I don't want your sorry's.”

“But I’m sorry,” you whispered, for the last time. But Sae gently wiped away your tears.

“It's ‘I love you’ from now on.”

For a moment, you both stayed like that, trying to make up for the lost time. Sae, much like you, dreamed of the day he gets to hold you close once again. He dreamed of a day he gets to watch the sunset from the reflection of your eyes again.

Sae could go on and on listing a hundred more reasons why he shouldn't be standing here, and yet he knew, only one of it was true – and that he hated himself for convincing himself that he shouldn't be here – to you, in his hometown.

Sae may have vowed to never come back to this place, but it was always a lie, because for all he knew, it's the only place he truly belonged. Half of his heart was left here, with you.

“Come on,” Sae said, and you followed him, curiosity in your eyes.

“Where are we going?”

“There,” Sae pointed to the beach, your spot, specifically. “To our place. The sky looks pretty, and I want it to know about us, again.”

“Us... again?” you asked hesitantly.

“If you would take me back.” Sae answered, a hint of fear in his eyes, afraid that he might be assuming this second chance for the two of you.

You took his hand in response, and squeezed it three times. “I want nothing more than to be with you, again.”

Without any more words, Sae gently cupped your cheeks, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The touch of his fingers was both familiar and new.

In the fading light of the day, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as you leaned closer to each other, your breath hitched as his warm breath mingled with yours.

His lips were soft against yours, and as they moved with a tenderness that mirrored the way he held you, it was as if he was trying to convey everything he had ever wanted to say to you in that one, passionate moment.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the intensity of his emotions pouring into it. It was a kiss that spoke of all the words left unsaid, of all the nights spent missing each other, and of all the dreams of a future together.

Feeling the tears streaming down your cheeks, Sae pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. And in that moment, he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be – here.

To you, in his hometown. 

💭 thank you for the request saetorinrin! (i owe you a lot for your patience i guess..)

note. hi. if you’ve been here before, you might know that i hate this trope with a burning passion, i just can’t write it for the life of me. i started this in may (and only had the guts to finish it this month lmao), i was so tempted to delete everything and start from scratch (for the nth time) but i think i owe it to myself to retain most of what i wrote when i was stranded on an island xd this isn’t my best, that, i know for sure. but i hope you’ll still like it ! 

💌 if you reached this part, and you want to know about reader’s letter that sae’s was referencing, here it is. you may or may not read this, it won’t really matter. but if you want to, click until the end :>

💭 back to: milestone event

[chem1cali]

THE GHOST OF YOU

masterlist

ghost!theodore nott x slytherin!reader

synopsis: returning to hogwarts after the war without your lover was the greatest pain you'd ever felt, but maybe he wasn't as gone as you thought...

warnings: HEAVY angst, some fluff but it's very sad fluff, definitely mostly angst, mentions of death and murder, references to suicidal thoughts

word count: 1.9k

a/n: this one broke my heart to write, yall. like ACTUALLY broke my heart. i'm considering making it a series, maybe with a slightly happier part two, so let me know if you'd be interested or if you have any ghost!theo ideas for me!

It was strange how subdued the halls of Hogwarts were. Just a year ago, the castle was swarming with chattering and giggling students, and now the few people you walked past had their mouths shut and their heads bowed. The war had that effect on everyone.

It had been a few days since the start of your eighth year, and each day seemed more heartbreaking than the one prior. Out of your slytherin friends, only Blaise had chosen to join you for the optional eighth year to make up for the chaos that was your seventh. You were thankful for his presence and support, but with each passing day, your heart grew heavier, and the desire to leave grew stronger.

Every room, every courtyard, every classroom, sent you spiralling through memories of him.

Theodore Nott. Your best friend since you were children, your confidante, and more recently, your boyfriend.

And also the boy who had stepped in front of a killing curse to save your life. Guilt swarmed through your gut as flashbacks of that day assaulted your mind.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called behind you. Standing a few feet away from you, Bellatrix Lestrange cackled, her mouth twisted in a terrifying grin.

“Itty bitty Notty boy.” She crooned. “Come to save his little damsel in distress.”

“Stay out of this, Theo.” you warned, your hand shaking as it gripped tightly onto your wand. “I’ve got this.”

Bellatrix kept her own wand trained on you, just as yours was on her. It was a standoff, each of you waiting for that momentary lapse in concentration to strike. From the corner of your eye, you could see Theo moving closer, and you glanced away from Bellatrix to look at him, just for a moment.

That moment cost you, and Bellatrix took full advantage of your brief distraction.

“Avada Kedavra!” She called, and a green light erupted from the tip of her wand. You stood in shock for what felt like years, before a sudden force knocked you to the ground so hard that your vision blurred.

This was it. You thought blearily. This was death.

But death didn't come. Your vision cleared, and you became vaguely aware of Bellatrix’s laughing growing further and further away. You looked up from your prone position to see her shadow disappearing down the hall. How were you still alive?

You glanced around, before noticing a still figure on the floor. Your heart dropped.

“No.” You whispered, horror flooding you as you scrambled to the body on the floor. “No no no!”

You pulled on his shoulder to tip him onto his back, and a choked sob left your mouth. “Theo!” You gasped, shaking him with both hands. “Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

But his body was still… unmoving.

A sob wracked through you, and you fell against a nearby column as the image seared itself into your mind. It was the stuff of nightmares, and it was your living hell. Every night, you woke screaming, with the sight of Theo’s lifeless body engrained in your mind.

“Y/N?” Blaine's deep baritone came from behind you. “Hey, it's okay. You’re okay.”

His hands brushed over your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you. After a few minutes, you choked back your tears and straightened your shoulders.

“I’m fine.” You said, your voice still shaking.

Blaise peered at you, his eyes betraying his concern. “Are you sure? You know the Ministry has set up counselling for those affected by the war, maybe you should-”

“I said I’m fine.” You protested, shrugging off his hold. “I just need to get some supper and go to bed.”

Blaise sighed, obviously disapproving of your claim, but smart enough not to push you further.

“Okay.” He conceded, wrapping his arm back around your shoulders. “Let's get you some food.”

You leaned into his warmth and let him lead you to the great hall. The once packed tables were now silent and sparse, the few remaining students choosing to sit in silence while they picked at their food.

You took a seat at your usual spot, spooning pumpkin soup into your bowl and swirling it around distractedly. A flash of brown curls to your left sent your spoon clattering into the bowl, and your head whipped so fast you swore you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

Only an empty seat greeted you, and tears filled your eyes. You could have sworn, just for a second, that he had been beside you.

You ate as quickly as you could, the food tasting like ash in your mouth, ignoring Blaise's concerned looks as you shovelled mouthful after mouthful into your mouth.

“I’m going to bed.” You mumbled, once your bowl was emptied.

“Do you want me to walk you down?” Blaise questioned, his own meal half-finished.

You shook your head. “No. I… I need to be alone.”

He stared at you for a moment, seeming to deliberate.

“Okay.” He said finally. “Be safe, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

You nodded, lifting your hand in a half-hearted wave as you stood up from your seat.

The walk down to the dungeons was quiet, the only sound being your echoing footsteps through the halls. The common room was empty when you finally stepped through the threshold, the flickering fire the only semblance of life in the area.

You didn't pause, walking to the hall that held your dorm room. You shrugged off your robes the second you walked through the door, distracting yourself with putting away various pieces of clutter that littered your floor.

On your bedside table, a picture frame caught your eye. It was an image of you and Theo that he had gotten you for your birthday last year, enchanted to portray a moving scene of you leaping into his arms. You picked up the frame, smiling sadly at the photo. You would give anything to be in his arms again.

“We looked so happy there, didn't we?”

The frame fell to the floor, the glass covering shattering as you froze, your heart thundering wildly in your chest.

“Shit, tesoro. I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

You spun around, and there he was. Your throat dried up, and all you could do was stare.

“Theo?” You breathed, barely able to comprehend what was happening. His soft, brown curls fell over his forehead as he tilted his head, a tentative smile on his face. He was wearing the same outfit as the day that he…

You leapt forward, your eyes squeezing shut as you reached to pull him into your arms.

Only for your fingers to close around air. You stumbled, opening your eyes as you spun around in confusion.

He was still there, but the faint smile had turned to a frown. You reached for his hand, unsure of what was happening, only for your fingers to drift straight through his skin.

You blinked, really focusing on him, and it was then you noticed that he didn't seem to be all there. His outline was slightly blurred against the backdrop of your room, and he seemed to be somewhat transparent.

“What…” you breathed. “What is happening? Am I going insane?”

Theo smiled sadly, shaking his head. “Not insane, baby. I’ve been trying to reach you since you came back.”

“You're here?” You sniffle. “You’re really here? I could've sworn I watched you…” You couldn't finish the sentence.

“You did.” He confirmed, and your heart broke all over again. You really were going insane, conjuring up images of your lost love just to cope with the pain.

“But I’m still here, really here, I swear.” He continued, fidgeting with his fingers. “Just… not alive.”

You shook your head. “I don't… I don't understand.”

He pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal a black burn mark on his upper chest. “This is where the curse hit me, it seems that my ghost has preserved the exact way my body was when I died.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Ghost?” You breathe. “You’re… you're a ghost?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It's been difficult trying to push through the veil to get to you, I’ve tried so many times. I got close earlier tonight at dinner, but it slipped away from me so quickly.” he frowned. “Even now, I can feel it starting to slip.”

Disappointment and joy battled ferociously in your mind. “You’re really dead, then?” Your voice cracked.

He nodded. “I am.”

Without knowing exactly how, or why, anger took over you, and words spewed out before you could stop them. “Why the fuck did you jump in front of me, Theo?” You exclaimed.

He held his hands up. “You were going to die, cara mia. I couldn't stand there and do nothing!”

You wished you could touch him. You wished you could punch him, hit him, hug him… kiss him.

You just wished you could feel his skin against yours again.

“I can’t do this.” You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I can't do this without you.”

“You can.” Theo said firmly. “And you will. And I’ll be here as much as I can to help you get through it, I swear.”

You stared at him through your tear-blurred vision. The urge to be in his arms was overwhelming, and it was a bittersweet kind of torture being able to see him and speak to him, but never touch him. You walked around him, shaking, and fell onto your bed, drawing your knees up to your chest. He moved after you, taking a seat beside you. You glanced at him, confused.

“How are you sitting on my bed?” You asked softly. “If you're a ghost?”

“I’m not, really.” He replied. “I’m kind of… hovering myself just above your bed to make it look like I’m sitting. I can’t feel your bed, or you, or anything really.”

The desperate sadness in his voice made your eyes fill with tears again. “I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “It's my fault you're dead. God, I’m so beyond sorry.”

He shook his head vehemently. “It’s not your fault, never your fault, tesoro. I made my choice, and I chose to sacrifice myself so that the person I love most would be able to live their life.”

“I don't want to live without you.” You admit quietly, looking down at your hands.

“Don’t say that.” The harshness in his voice made you blink and look up at him. His face was twisted into an anguished, almost terrified expression. “Promise me you won't ever say that again. I need you to live, Y/N. For me, please.”

You nodded, even if you didn't truly believe it, anything to get that tortured expression off his face. He relaxed a little, and flickered in and out of view.

“Shit.” He cursed. “I’m fading out. The veil is pushing me back, I can’t stay for much longer.”

You jolted, panic filling you. “No, wait! You can't leave me, not again, Theo!”

He flickered again, this time his form was barely visible as he faded more and more with each passing second.

“I’m sorry.” Even his voice had faded, becoming muffled. “But I will be back. I swear to you. I’ll keep coming back for you, as long as you need me.”

“I'll always need you!” You sobbed, your fingers desperately clenching around the air where his hand should be.

His smile was barely visible. “I love you, Y/N, never forget that.”

“I love you too.” You weeped. “Please stay.”

But with a final flicker, he was finally gone from view.

And you were alone again.

[idkyetxoxo]

Daeron Targaryen || Masterlist

This masterlist is solely focused on Daeron Targaryen, all written as xreader pieces without any specific physical descriptions.

All works have warnings stated before but please read at your own risk!

— ALL ONESHOTS BELOW ->

Fan favourites: 🌟 My favourites: 💓

Doomed 🌟 💓

• Violence, injury

Star-crossed lovers, the only daughter of Rhaenyra and the youngest son of Alicent, destined to be together but doomed from the start, bound by love and fate to an end neither of them could escape.

Flawless

• None

A commoner and a prince defy societal norms but as their secret affair is exposed, they grapple with intense emotions and the fear of their love being destroyed. They must choose whether to defy the world for their love or succumb to the pressures tearing them apart.

Ashes of Betrayal 🌟

• Violence

Secrets unravel and tensions ignite between brothers, Daeron's forbidden love for her puts them all at risk. With loyalty and betrayal hanging in the balance, her fate is sealed by forces beyond her control, leading to a devastating clash between love and cruelty.

The Last Flames 🌟

• None

In the ruins of their shattered families, the last Targaryen and Velaryon are forced into a marriage. As they navigate grief and guilt, they discover unexpected tenderness and feelings as they grapple with the ghosts of their pasts and the burgeoning love between them.

Pleasure 💓

• Sexual content (oral f!receiving)

What begins with years of contempt and resentment ignites into a surprising, passionate confrontation that blurs the lines between hatred and desire, challenging their darkest secrets and unspoken yearnings.

Cruel Games

• Violence (slap)

Trapped in a dangerous web of deception, she once admired Daeron, but now faces the brutal truth—she was never more than a pawn in his heartless play. As betrayal cuts deep, she must confront the cold emptiness left behind and the shattered pieces of her heart.

Secrets

• None

A Targaryen prince and a Velaryon princess grapple with a forbidden love that defies their families. When their secret is discovered, tensions soar, forcing them to confront the risks of their passion and the cost of loyalty. Will love prevail, or will family ties shatter their dreams?

Remember Me

• Injury

Caught in an arranged marriage, she finds her loyalties tested when a figure from her past returns. After a tragic confrontation erases her memories of him, she must navigate the echoes of lost love and uncover the truth of her heart amidst the shadows of her past.

Halves of the Same Soul

• None

Twin siblings share an unshakable bond that blurs the line between love and obsession. Courtly intrigue, forbidden desires, and dangerous secrets simmer beneath the surface—where loyalty and power collide, and no one is safe from the flames.

Fire and Frost

• None

She finds herself wed to a Targaryen—her worst fear manifesting. As she navigates court politics and her heart, she discovers that the man she expected to dread may hold the key to an unexpected future. Can love emerge from the ashes of fire and ice?

The Rose and the Dragon

• None

She struggles to find her place in the world of dragons and politics, doubting whether she is strong enough. Courtly whispers threaten to unravel her until he reminds her of the quiet strength she possesses. She may be a flower among dragons, but she will not wilt.

The Unspoiled and The Unseen

• None

A game of words unfolds between them. With courtly intrigue, tension, and the lure of forbidden possibilities, she must decide whether to resist—or be drawn deeper into his world. In a family where power is both blade and burden, is fascination a weapon or a trap?

For works involving other characters from House of the Dragon, please check out my House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

[azrielstherapist]

No One Like You [Ch.3]

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: He saved the world. But the cost? A part of himself that he can never get back.

Rhysand returned to Velaris as the hero of Prythian, but the shadows of his past cling to him, leaving him distant, haunted. The world has moved on, but he hasn't.

You, an apothecary in Velaris, isn’t interested in saving anyone—least of all him. You have your own secrets and scars to carry. When your paths cross, something shifts. Something neither of you is ready for.

No one warned you that some connections are inevitable, no matter how much you resist.

In a city where the past is never truly gone, both of you may have more in common than you realize—whether you’re ready to face it or not.

Inspired by: "A Girl Like You" by Edwyn Collins

Pairing: Rhysand x Y/N

Note: So here's the third chapter, honestly not fond of it. I didn't know how to make a great conversation between Rhys and Y/N. This feels more like a filler chapter.

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, pls let me know. <3

I'll update this in a few days. Dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

It had been days since I’d last seen him.

Rhys. Just Rhys.

The name curled in my mind like mist, uninvited but not entirely unwelcome. I wasn’t someone easily caught off guard, not by flattery, not by charm, and certainly not by strangers with well-tailored cloaks and a voice like velvet spun in shadow. 

And yet…

He lingered, like the smell of smoke long after the flame had vanished.

He lingered in the spaces between things. In the silence of dawn before I opened the shop. In the way my eyes always drifted toward the river, half-expecting someone to be standing there. In the dreams I wasn’t supposed to have anymore, where I didn’t quite see his face, but felt that same pull. That same hush.

He reminded me of something I didn’t know I’d forgotten, something just out of reach, just at the edge of memory. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me. Like he saw through it - through me.

And maybe that’s what unsettled me most.

Because I knew how to hold people at a distance. I was good at it.

Polite smile. Clever words. A well-placed question turned into a deflection.

But Rhys hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t tried to barge his way in, he simply… arrived. Like fog rolling in over still water, inevitable in its quiet persistence.

And it should’ve meant nothing, a stranger at the edge of the woods, a brief encounter, a curious face.

But his voice kept echoing.

Splash.

Cold water dripped down my temples, trailing the curve of my neck before soaking into the collar of my shirt. I stood at the washbasin in the back of the Apothecary, hands braced on either side of the chipped porcelain, eyes locked on my reflection in the small, clouded mirror above it.

“Get a hold of yourself,” I muttered.

The woman in the mirror raised a brow, unimpressed.

It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous to be thinking about him this much. I’d met him once. He’d said a few pretty things, wore mystery like a cloak, and smiled like he knew far more than he was letting on.

And apparently, that was all it took to completely short-circuit my common sense.

I shook my head, letting the cool water do what it could to calm whatever this was that had started clawing its way to the surface. Fascination. Curiosity. Stupidity. Pick your poison.

With a long breath, I reached for a towel, patting my face dry and rolling my shoulders back. There were things to be done. Shelves to restock. Deliveries to check. Customers to serve.

I’d kept busy. Customers came and went , a mother with her coughing child, an elderly male in need of a balm for aching joints, a pair of young lovers asking for something “sweetly dangerous.” I gave them licorice with ginseng root and a wink.

The doorbell chimed, soft and familiar. I didn’t look up right away.

“Back so soon?” I called absently, expecting Mrs. Telna, who came in twice a week for lemon balm and a bit of gossip.

But it wasn’t her.

“Not quite,” came a voice far too smooth, too amused.

I turned, and there she stood - Maris, a regular. Towering, fiery red hair pulled into a loose braid, and a knowing smirk already on her face. She stomped the rain off her boots dramatically.

“Did you miss me?” she asked.

“I missed your money,” I replied sweetly.

She laughed. “Fair. I need something to help with headaches, my mate’s family is visiting.”

“Ah, the real dark magic.” I moved behind the counter, pulling down a small tin of feverfew. “Take a pinch in hot water. Twice a day, or once if you want to stay mildly miserable.”

“I like a little misery,” she winked, passing over a few coins. “Keeps things interesting.”

“Then you’ll love the next customer. I have a feeling they’ll ask for something ridiculous.”

She laughed again, then swept out in a rustle of cloak and sass.

A few more customers came and went, a quiet scholar with ink-stained fingers looking for concentration tea, a teenage fae boy with many freckles and not enough tact who asked if I sold anything to make someone “fall in love, but like, for real.” I handed him mint and told him to brush his teeth first.

By midafternoon, the rain had lightened. I had just finished prepping a bitterroot tonic when the bell rang again. But this time, something in me stilled.

Not the way it did when someone shady walked in. Not the way it did when a storm brewed.

This was… softer. A tug. Like someone had gently hooked a string behind my ribs and pulled.

I turned.

There he was. Standing in the doorway like he belonged nowhere and everywhere at once.

His eyes found mine immediately, and that grin curled at the corner of his mouth, the kind that said he’d expected to find me here, and was somehow still pleased to have done so.

"I was in the neighborhood," he said. "You mentioned a shop near the river… and I thought I’d see if that was true.."

I crossed my arms, biting back the smile that threatened. “And if it wasn’t?”

He shrugged. “I’d have wandered until I found you anyway.”

Mother Above. He really is dangerous.

I scoffed, turning back to my vials. “Flattery. Dangerous thing, especially around certain brews.”

“Then it’s a good thing I came here for something safer,” he replied, voice smooth as velvet.

I glanced over my shoulder. “And what exactly do you need?”

He leaned casually on the counter, fingers tapping the wood. “A remedy.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Love potion? Curse antidote? Elixir of eternal charm?”

“No, Neither and don’t need the last one” he said brushing off his cloak.

“Sleep,” he confessed, simply. “Or rather, the lack of it.”

That made me pause. The grin was gone. His voice still held its lightness, but I heard it, the weight beneath. Something old and tired.

“You’ve tried everything?” I asked, already turning to the shelf where I kept the stronger tinctures.

“Everything,” he said. “Even the cabin.”

“Not even that helped?”

He shook his head once. “Quiet doesn’t always mean peace.”

I studied him, the faint lines at the corners of his mouth, the tiredness sitting just beneath his fine, sculpted features.

“I’ll make you something,” I said finally. “Stronger than the usual blends. But it won’t taste like honey and lavender.”

“Wouldn’t trust it if it did,” he murmured.

I turned back to the workbench, letting the familiar rhythm of motion take over, valerian root, crushed gentian, a thread of dreamshade. Behind me, the silence shifted, the kind that meant he was still watching.

“Is this your usual?” he asked. “Late-night brews for sleepless strangers?”

“I prefer to work with plants. They lie less.”

He chuckled. “That sounds like a story.”

“Most things do,” I said, not looking back.

He leaned in, watching me work, voice soft. “You always this generous with your brews?”

“Only for charming strangers with insomnia.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

As I crushed the last of the ingredients, I noticed the way his eyes tracked every motion, not in suspicion, but interest. Like he was trying to memorize the rhythm of me.

“Try this,” I said, handing him a small corked bottle. “One spoonful before sleep. And don’t mix it with wine or reckless decisions.”

“No promises,” he murmured, brushing his fingers over mine as he took it.

Something electric zipped up my arm.

I cleared my throat. “That one’s stronger than usual. It might make you dream.”

His gaze lingered on my face, unreadable. “I haven’t dreamt in a long time.”

I held his stare, then finally said, “Maybe it’s time.”

He slipped the vial into his coat pocket. “You always this poetic?”

“Only when I’m trying to get rid of someone.”

A low laugh escaped him, and he stepped back. “I’ll let you get back to your brews. But I might stop by again. You know, in case I develop a need for… chamomile.”

I gave him a look. “If you come asking for chamomile, I’ll know you’re lying.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll have to be creative.”

A pause. 

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, glancing up through his lashes.

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Nothing.”

He lifted a brow. “Nothing?”

“You gave me tea,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “And company. Consider it a fair trade.”

He chuckled, a soft, low sound that settled somewhere in my chest. “Dangerous logic. You’ll go out of business if you keep giving away remedies for conversation.”

“I don’t give them to just anyone,” I replied, and he smiled again, that quiet, crooked thing he did that always felt like he was on the verge of saying something else entirely.

“Well, in that case,” he said, stepping back, “I’ll do my best to come up with more ailments. Just to keep the economy alive.”

“Selfless of you.”

He gave a small bow of the head - half-mocking, half-sincere - and left, the shop bell tinkling softly in his wake.

I exhaled, the quiet after his departure pressing gently against the shelves and walls.

Then I turned.

And froze.

There, on the counter where the bottle had been moments ago, lay seven gleaming gold coins. Real ones. The kind stamped with the Night Court’s crest. The kind that could cover my rent for the better part of a year, with enough left for firewood and fresh herbs, too.

I stared at them for a moment, unmoving. Then sighed, brushing my fingers lightly over the closest one.

“You really are dangerous,” I murmured.

The bell above the door chimed again as a new customer entered, and I straightened, slipping the coins into the drawer below with a quiet clink.

Back to work.

But his name lingered in my mind like a half-forgotten melody.

Rhys.

Just Rhys.

And yet - something told me nothing about him was simple.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Lovers Say Goodbye | 2 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , Chap 3 ,Chap 4, Chap 5 , -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A dangerous glint flickered in Bucky's eyes as he stared at your employee photo on the screen. "What if," he said, his voice barely a whisper, laced with a chilling intensity, "I stirred up a little trouble of my own? Got her attention the only way she understands?"

Steve furrowed his brow, confusion etching lines on his forehead. "So, you're saying you want to create some chaos to get her back?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Based on your sudden disappearance, Bucky could only conclude that you had already made your decision, that you weren't coming back. But messing with Bucky Barnes was a grave mistake. He had developed deep feelings for you, and now, he was determined to do whatever it took to see you again, even if it meant the world went up in flames.

"Is it worth the potential consequences?" Steve pressed, his voice heavy with worry. He knew the depths of Bucky's past, the darkness he could unleash when provoked.

Bucky's posture remained rigid, his jaw clenched tight. "For her?" he rasped, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Without a doubt."

Steve swallowed hard, the weight of Bucky's unwavering resolve settling in his stomach. He knew his friend better than anyone, and when Bucky set his mind on something, he always got it. No matter the cost.

Bucky continued staring at your picture, a twisted smile on his lips. A silent promise hung heavy in the air, a promise that sent shivers down Steve's spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely audible, "we'll meet again. One way or another."

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

The rhythmic click of high heels echoed down the long, sterile hallway. The cheerful facade of the friendly florist was gone, replaced by a steely resolve. Gone were the warm smiles that had charmed customers and Bucky alike; your expression had turned as cold and sharp as the winter wind.

The sun-kissed summer dress you once wore was a distant memory. In its place, a crisp white shirt and a severe black suit, the skirt hitting just below the knee, encased your form. Black high heels completed the transformation, adding an air of controlled power to every step.

As you entered the imposing exterior of the CIA building, you shed the remnants of your borrowed identity, "Alex Lynch." With each click of your heels on the polished marble floor, you stepped further away, leaving behind the carefully constructed charade and reclaiming your true self: Y/N L/N.

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing you within a metal cocoon. You pressed the button for the hidden floor, a destination accessible only to those with the highest clearance. As the elevator descended, the tension in the air thickened. When the doors finally opened, revealing the bustling operations center, a hush fell over the room.

"She's back?" A stunned murmur rippled through the ranks of agents. They couldn't believe their eyes. You, their elusive phantom, had returned after two grueling years embedded with the target: Bucky Barnes, the world's most notorious assassin.

Previous attempts to neutralize him had resulted in nothing but body bags. They'd taken a gamble, sending in their last hope, the agent renowned for overcoming impossible odds: You, with the code name of ODIN - Operational Deception and Intelligence Network.

The nervous click of Peter's heels echoed in the stark hallway as he approached you, "Ehm, Agent L/N," he stammered, barely daring to meet your gaze, "welcome back. Director Brandon is waiting for you." It was clear he was awestruck, speaking to his idol, the legendary ODIN.

You acknowledged him with a curt "Hmmph," your voice devoid of warmth. Reaching Director Brandon's office, you stopped. No knock. No announcement. Just a pregnant pause before the heavy oak door swung open with a silent by Peter.

Director Brandon, a man hardened by years of service, found himself instinctively straightening in his chair as your icy blue eyes met his. A tremor ran through his hand, a stark contrast to your unwavering demeanor. Even though he was considerably older, an aura of authority clung to you, making him feel like a student in the presence of a seasoned master.

"Y/N," he began, his voice strained under the weight of your presence. A fleeting smile, more of a grimace, played on his lips. "Welcome back. Splendid work, truly. We secured everything we needed thanks to you."

You didn't respond, your silence a weapon hanging heavy in the air, thicker than the unspoken questions and unspoken judgments. With a practiced grace devoid of human warmth, you lowered yourself into a chair, your posture rigid and unyielding, as if carved from granite.

The silence stretched, broken only by Brandon's nervous cough. "Anything you desire," he offered, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice tinged with desperation. "Name it, and it's yours. A vacation. Anything to show our appreciation for your... sacrifice."

A single word, devoid of emotion, dripped from your lips: "Mission."

He leaned back, surprise momentarily cracking his carefully constructed facade. "But... wouldn't you like some time to... relax? After two years undercover, surely even Agent L/N needs a moment to reacclimate to the real world."

You tilted your head ever so slightly, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. It was a smile devoid of warmth, bereft of amusement. "Tending to flowers for two years," you drawled, your voice like the whisper of an arctic wind, "has left me... unproductive. I require... stimulation."

A sigh escaped Brandon's lips, the weight of responsibility and the chilling efficiency of his top agent settling heavily on his shoulders. "Very well," he conceded, defeat lacing his voice. "I'll have the mission parameters ready shortly."

You offered a curt nod, the only acknowledgment he deemed worthy of his desperate plea.

He cleared his throat again, a nervous habit exacerbated by the intensity of your presence. "So," he ventured hesitantly, "no... regrets?"

Even though Brandon had been the one who sent you in, a sliver of unease gnawed at him as he regarded you. He couldn't shake the feeling of misplaced sympathy for Bucky, the notorious assassin you'd manipulated.

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of something akin to annoyance momentarily flickering in your eyes before being smothered by the practiced indifference that had become your second skin. "The success of the mission," you stated, your voice a monotone devoid of inflection, "is the only consideration that holds any relevance."

You rose from your chair, your movements smooth and practiced, your heels clicking like a death knell as you turned towards the door.

Without a single backward glance, you exited the office, leaving Brandon alone with the silence and the weight of his decision. He sank back into his chair, the image of your emotionless face etched in his memory.

Still, a sense of relief washed over him. Operation Pandora, a two-year-long covert operation, was finally over.

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

A heavy sigh escaped Bucky's lips, a guttural "Huft," as he strained through another repetition. The training room, shrouded in darkness except for a single bare bulb illuminating the space, held memories he'd actively tried to suppress for the past two years.

Everywhere he looked, the ghosts of his past mocked him. Rows of gleaming weaponry hung on the wall, each instrument of death a stark reminder of the life he'd left behind.

Weight benches and punching bags stood like silent sentinels, their leather surfaces worn smooth from countless hours of his relentless pursuit of perfection.

He gripped the bar, his knuckles white with strain as he executed another hanging sit-up, the burn in his muscles a welcome distraction.

His gaze, however, remained fixed on the opposite wall, where a lone photograph served as a silent witness to his solitary workout. The image – a woman with warm eyes and a captivating smile – held the power to both soothe and ignite a storm of emotions within him.

Your fake name, Alex, echoed in his mind, a stark contrast to the cold reality of your true identity: Special Agent Y/N L/N.

"I'll get you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with a mix of determination and simmering anger. It wasn't just a vow of vengeance; it was a promise to himself, a pledge to reclaim the life stolen from him, to understand the woman behind the mask.

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Author Note:

My dear readers and followers,

Could you please share your opinions about this series with me?

If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear why it appealed to you.

If not, I would greatly appreciate your feedback and advice on improving the series.

Thank you!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi there! Do you know of any fics with john and sherlock raising rosie that take place when she's a bit older, like in the 10-20 years old range?

Hi Lovely!

Oh gosh, good question... If I have any they'll be on my Parentlock lists:

Parentlock

Parentlock Pt. 2

Parentlock Pt. 3

Parentlock Pt. 4A (MFLs 0-25K w.)

Parentlock Pt. 4B (MFLs 25K+ w.)

Parentlock Pt. 4C (WIP MFLs)

Adoption

But here's what came up with a quick tag search on my offline lists. If you guys have some to add, please do list them for us!

OLDER ROSIE FICS

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, 5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

Made of Music Series by SosoHolmesWatson (T, 6,464+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite.

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

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.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

MARKED FOR LATER

About Being Gay by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 1,088 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Older Rosie) – Rosie looks up from Sherlock’s picture book about poisonous plants, gives Sherlock a look and asks, 'Are you gay, Sherlock?' and Sherlock, without missing a beat, just says 'Yes,' and continues drinking his tea, and Rosie says 'Ah,' and goes back to her plant book, and John nearly doubles over in the corner.

Are You Gay? by orphan_account (G, 2,299, 2 Ch. || Parentlock with Rosie, Older Rosie, Fluff) – Some boys at school called Rosie "Gay." She doesn't exactly know what that means, but maybe her dad does?

Hope is sweet by Lock_John_Silver (T, 2,977 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Valentine’s Day, Developing Relationship, Pet Names, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Classical Music, Idiots in Love, Endearments, POV Sherlock) - Sherlock wants to be more than John’s best friend. Has wanted it for ages, truth be told. So, when Molly comes up with an idea, that to some extent involves three year old Rosie, Sherlock doesn’t hesitate.

"Daddy, who do you like?" by OnlyForward (G, 3,441 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock / 6 Year-Old Rosie Fic) – Rosie is in the phase where she constantly asks questions. This leads to questions like "Who do you like" and develops, eventually, to "Why don’t you kiss Sherlock?"

If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3 (E, 31,156 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Family, Retirement, Grown Up Rosie, Angst, Reunion, Loneliness, Sussex, Fluff, Sexy Times, Happy Ending) – Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars...

Consulting for Christmas by ohlooktheresabee (G, 40,153 w., 6 Ch. || Far Future Post S4 / Older Rosie, Thriller, Case Fic, Pre-Relationship, Christmas, Paris, POV Alternating, Fluff, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Mistletoe, Ice Skating, Heist, Awkward Romance, Developing Relationship, For a Case, Background Mystrade, Angst with Happy Ending) – The Louvre Museum in Paris is planning to host the celebrated Winter Fabergé Egg for its winter exhibition - quite the feat as it has not been on public display since 2002. However there is a snag: whispers of a world-renowned master-thief with his eyes set on the valuable prize. The curator has asked the famous Sherlock Holmes to consult on security, but the detective needs a lot of convincing: he is after all a bit busy with trying to woo a certain clueless ex-army doctor… At the same time, John is attempting to balance work, missing Rosie who is off on her gap year, a volunteer gig at a local London orphanage, and seething jealousy upon the arrival of an apparent old friend of Sherlock’s. Attempting to foil the heist of the century while remaining friendly and objective might just be a step too far... A Christmas crime caper packed full of misdirection, miscommunication and mistletoe, set against the romantic backdrop of London and Paris in the winter. Thrown into all this, will our two idiots finally manage to see what has been right in front of them all along?

Here We Go Again by disfictional (E, 46,687 w., 10 Ch. || Mama Mia-Inspired Fusion || Post-S4, Older Rosie, Alternating POV, Reunion, Retirement, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Coming Out, Parentlock, Weddings, Fluff and Angst) – Ransacking some old trunks, Rosie Watson finds her father's old journal filled with remnants of a blog he used to keep about his association with Sherlock Holmes. In an attempt to meet the man who had a profound impact on her early years, Rosie invites the long-estranged detective to her wedding under false pretenses.

Know You All Over Again by PoppyAlexander (M, 53,028 w., 21 Ch. || Post-S3 Canon Divergence, Post-Break Up, Angst with Happy Ending, Therapy, Mary is Moriarty, Ex Sex, Parentlock) – After five good years, one difficult one, and six months that were hell, John and Sherlock live apart but still share custody of seven-year-old Rosie. With therapy, supportive friends, and those inevitable dance recitals and open school days forcing them into each other's paths again and again, anger and bitterness fade, leaving space for a new view of each other across the divide.

[ficwingrecs]

Brennan/Naolin

Am I missing something? Do you have something new I should add? Please feel free to send a message or an ask!

Naolin and Brennan by Bell_doNNA

The very first one!

Time Can Always Heal You (If You Let It Make Its Way Into Your Bones) by betweenlightanddarkness

Brennan's grief and his new life.

when my time comes around by thestoryofviv

Brennan Sorrengail's arrow injury and its aftermath. Naolin POV.

M'eudail by Jeyfeather1234

A series of one-shots revolving around Brennan and Naolin's relationship.

Last Breath by TheWrittenMaze

A Prequel fic, set nine years before the events in Fourth Wing as told from Naolin's perspective.

This can't be real by Portujules

Brennan is having a surreal night after deciding to go to sleep earlier.

the Battle of Aretia by readeverystory

Brennan Sorrengail knows tomorrow will be a battle.

With You by ILoveMyThighs

Brennan is grieving Naolin’s death in Aretia, meets Xaden, and joins the start of the revolution.

Laws of Attraction by hoelliexx

Modern AU where Brennan and Naolin are law school rivals.

Resurrect My Heart, Too by TheWrittenMaze

During the events of Iron Flame, Brennan is forced to relive the death of his own heart as he struggles to save his sister from burn out.

Every night's another reason why I left it all by amberswansong

Modern AU in the same universe as Pink Pony Club.

If it had happened differently by Fantasy_bookwyrm

The attacks on Navarre keep happening and no one knows why.

To exist in the face of suffering and death by Emjen_Enla

There really have got to be less dramatic ways of going no contact with your family than faking your own death. Not that Brennan Sorrengail would know.

Canon Compliant by Fantasy_bookworm

A series of fics about Brennan, after.

A Chain of Memory and Suffering by BenetNaschShugo

A series of fics showing Brennan and Naolin past and present in a chain of memories and pain until they meet again... and make it all worse.

Somebody Like You by amberswansong

Naolin made Brennan want to draw him from the first moment he’d laid eyes on the older man.

Count backwards from ten by Mint_chocolatechip

Naolin takes care of Brennan, as he always does when Brennan gets a little too close to burnout. (Tied to Healing by the same author, in which Brennan has a significant role.)

Only See Daylight by amberswansong

Brennan wakes up after the Battle of Aretia. (Also tied to Healing.)

Take My Hand by hoelliexx

Brennan and Naolin are in love. Life throws rocks at them.

Memories Consume by LizardRunClub

Naolin is captured just outside Draithus by Xaden and Garrick… what happens when they bring him back to Riorson House for interrogation?

Tea and Other Remedies by Jeyfeather1234

Naolin visits a rather ill looking Brennan. A post Onyx Storm sickfic.

I'll Give It All by ACourtofLadyDeath

When Brennan and Naolin lined up to fight in the Battle of Aretia, neither expected what was to come, or that only one of them would leave the battlefield alive.

Up at Night by scarlette_stories

A pre-Fourth Wing two-shot Brennan and Naolin fic.

Forever by Lixillian

Brennan Sorringail has waited far too long for the man he loves to return to him, so instead he does the most idiotic thing he could ever do.

History Hates Lovers by sandstrand

Follow Brennan and Naolin as they struggle to navigate the Rider's Quadrant and accidentally fall in love amid the lead-up to a Civil War.

It Cost Me Everything by LizardRunClub

This is Naolin's story: A tale of fierce love, human error, and a dragon's judgment during the Battle of Aretia.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello beautiful people! First of all, thank you so much for this blog. Your work is amazing!

I'm looking for some fic suggestions, if you'd be so kind in answering. I loved Slow Show and Old Vines, so I wanted something similar, a long AU fic that has a lot of pinning and some angst, but has a happy ending. Thank you ❤

Hi! The fics you've mentioned are very popular in the fandom, so I'd recommend checking our #fandom favourites tag, as well as our #pining, #human au, and #long fic tags for more to enjoy. Here are more to add...

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Keep it casual by Kiez21 (E)

Aziraphale has just been dumped by his boyfriend of thirteen years, right before turning thirty. While out with his friends, he meets a red-haired stranger that gives him one of the best nights of his life. Crowley's just moved into Tadfield looking for a fresh start. On his first night out, he invites a handsome stranger for a one night stand. It is just a one night stand, right?

The Anon Before Christmas by foolishlovers (M)

When Crowley’s friend, blogging buddy and business partner Anathema announces her annual Secret Santa Exchange on Tumblr, she is very adamant Crowley should join this year. The old-fashioned (but admittedly compassionate) man he gets assigned to send anonymous messages to every day until Christmas sounds awfully similar to the fussy bookseller that his friends adore, yet Crowley tries to avoid at all costs. But surely his friends would have mentioned if Aziraphale had taken an interest in the Bad Omens fandom as well… right? Or: An Enemies to Lovers Secret Santa Tumblr AU.

It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine by Dervila, elf_on_the_shelf (E)

After Adam's parents die in a car crash, Aziraphale is forced to start taking care of him as more than just an uncle. Don't get him wrong, he loves the little devil, it's just that he is completely clueless and could rather use some help. In comes Crowley, Adam's new nursery school teacher with his amazing skills in dealing with kids. Could he be the answer to all of Aziraphale's prayers - Adam-related and otherwise? Well, it looks like he might be just that, judging by the weird things Aziraphale's heart seems to be doing whenever he sets eyes on the man. Now, if only the tall ginger returned his feelings...

For His Eyes Only by AFrenchFanWriter (M)

Anthony J. Crowley has been an MI6 spy for 10 years, completing successful mission after successful mission under the guidance of his quartermaster, Aziraphale Fell. But this life is starting to take its toll on him as he is getting older; and when, one day, his past comes back to haunt him, Crowley realizes that it might be time for him to hang up his gun and face all the things he has left unaddressed… (Yep, it is basically a James Bond/Q AU!)

Driving in the Dark by Sarah_hadeschild (E)

Aziraphale, a small town librarian with a troubled past, has resigned himself to the impossibility of love. That is, until he meets a rough-around-the-edges motorcycle mechanic who reads Mary Oliver. TW for mentions of a past abusive relationship.

- Mod D

[kimberbohwrites]

Chapter Three: Closer

<<Chapter Two | Chapter Four (coming soon)>>

Summary: After the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, Tav has stayed in touch with Rolan and his siblings. She visits weekly to volunteer at Ramazith Tower as a healer for the refugees in the city. Her growing crush on the wizard finally comes to a head one night and her feelings for Rolan are made clear. This is a romantic, sm*tty, and angsty story dealing with trauma and of course includes a healthy dose of miscommunication and misunderstanding.

Tags: N$FW SMÚT below the break, Angst and Fluff and Sm*t, Friends to Lovers, Tieflings, Unnamed Tav, Misunderstandings, Human Tav, Semi-Public S*x, Background bloodweave, rolan is down bad, tav is down bad, everyone is down badIdiots in Love, POV Rolan PIV S*x, Enthusiastic Consent, Biting, Mating Bites, First Time, Desk S*x, Neck Kissing, Romance, Getting Together, C*nnilingus, Bl*w Jobs, angst, f*ngering

4.2k words | Click here to read on Ao3

The days crawled by and Tav couldn’t help but be eager about their upcoming date. Letting herself feel the excitement came at a cost. If it had been hard to go about her day-to-day tasks without distraction before, it was hopeless now. For so long she had been satisfied with her solitary way of life — she was happy and fulfilled. But now she noticed how much lighter her heart felt when she pictured his smile and heard the sound of his laugh in her memory. She loved that such a grouchy and serious man could also be a tad silly and romantic. Her brain reeled when she thought of that word — love. Sure, she’d had her fair share of relationships in the past. But love? Never. The thought of tying herself to a person or place was terrifying for her, even if that person was Rolan.

Then there were the less wholesome memories that distracted her. The times when she found herself flushed and thinking about his devious smile above her as she laid beneath him in his bed. Or the heated way his bare skin felt on hers. She felt almost desperate, the way her whole body seemed to yearn for his made her nervous.

She tried to shake the complicated mix of feelings away and redouble her efforts on her chores. It brought her a lot of joy to grow and prepare remedies and potions for those most vulnerable in the city. It was almost heartbreaking to her; how wary people usually were of her at first when they came in seeking treatment. Then there’s the bittersweet moment when they’re surprised to find out there is no catch, she’s just there to help for nothing in return. To her it seemed, Baldur’s Gate existed to grind people down and it tended to be those in need who suffered the worst of it.

Her homestead was so simple in comparison to the big city. A sturdy one room cabin with a large shed in its shadow that sat on a bit of land, split a stream running to the River Chionthar. The trees of the woods formed the horizon, leaving ample sunlight for growing the fruits and vegetables she also donated in large portions. Becoming the “hero of Baldur’s Gate” had come with it’s share of rewards and lavish gifts she hadn’t been able to refuse. So much so that she could probably live humbly, but comfortably, for the rest of her days. The bounty of the earth could provide for so many who might otherwise go hungry, why would she demand money when they have none?

That didn’t stop her from allowing a few posh upper-city households she’d befriended during her adventures to buy a small portion of her goods to fill their larders. It offset the costs of getting the ingredients she needed for healing that she couldn’t grow herself. Having the gold of the wealthy go toward caring for the poor made her feel a certain sense of justice, like maybe there could be hope for the Gate.

A few days before when she was due back in the city to volunteer and for their date, a letter arrived with an elegant wax seal from Ramazith Tower. Her nose dipped to the rolled parchment hoping to catch the scent of the sender. A grin split her face when she picked up that familiar smell of cedar mixed with the smell of the parchment — Rolan. Inside he’d left suggestions on what she might want to wear for their date, something she’d be comfortable walking in, as well as some general updates on how he and his siblings were getting on. Those words weren’t what caused her heart to flutter in her chest, that honor was reserved for the three words at the top. She’d keep coming back to the letter every few hours to read them again and pour over the beautiful handwriting where he’d written, “My darling Tav,”.

She was elated she’d taken Lia’s advice the morning after Alfira’s birthday party. Honestly, she really had just wanted to hear how things had gone with Dammon when she followed Lia to her room. They had become the very best of friends over the last several months, she’d admired her since they’d fought their way out of Moonrise Towers. Although now that she thought about it — maybe she’d admired her from the moment she first saw her, chewing Rolan out in the Druid Grove.

It hadn’t taken long for Lia to turn the conversation to her big brother. She’d caught on to her developing crush on Rolan months ago. The very first time she’d caught her giggling while leaning over a table and talking to him while he worked, in fact. Tav had confessed when Lia had confronted her and had dutifully kept her secret ever since. She’d known Lia was about to bring him up by the sudden change in her attitude.

“So, what did he do that has you looking so down? Do I need to talk to him?” She’d asked almost menacingly.

“It’s nothing like that Lia, it’s my fault,” Tav had sighed, “I tried to make my move so to speak and — I just don’t think he likes me like that.” Tav tried to avert her gaze from Lia’s so she couldn’t see how much that hurt her.

Lia had done her best to not look grossed out at the idea of Tav making a move on her brother.

“You know, you’re like the most eligible bachelorette in this city — you could probably be with anyone,” Lia had joked, but Tav knew she secretly thought the world of her brother.

“I don’t want just anyone,” Tav had said sadly.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t either,” Lia had muttered and then brightened up, “so… go talk to him— he’s probably in his study. Plus, you can check if he’s mad about the whole Dammon thing for me.” She’d added slyly.

Tav took some convincing, but Lia was unrelenting. Eventually she’d given in even though she’d been more nervous than the times she’d faced the dread plots of dark gods. The look Lia had given her when she was leaving Ramazith Tower later that day, when Rolan had slipped her the sweetest kiss on the forehead, was her classic “I told you so” face.

The night of their date arrived at last. After closing up her stall at Sorcerous Sundries for the day, she’d changed into her nicest pants and a top she’d borrowed from Lia. Although Lia had insisted on it being a gift to Tav when she remembered the date was with her brother. She’d washed and brushed out her long hair beforehand, forgoing her usual simple bun to wear her hair down. She even let Lia help her put on a little makeup.

“Wow— you look — wow,” Rolan said when they met up out front of the tower. He almost seemed tense, and she could certainly empathize. She couldn’t help but feel a little nervous too, like tonight was special in a way she didn’t yet fully understand.

Rolan was wearing dark pants and a casual but clean white tunic that contrasted beautifully against his ruby skin. The dark brown hair he usually wore half up was tied back allowing the devastatingly attractive angle of this jawline to steal her breath.

“You also look wow,” She laughed away her nerves and reached for his hand to break the tension. It worked wonderfully. He accepted her hand eagerly and hitched up a pack he had slung over his shoulder.

“You don’t usually wear your hair down, it looks beautiful,” he cleared his throat, “you look beautiful.”

“Rolan, you big softie,” she murmured while popping up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

He rolled his eyes and glowered, the effect somewhat lessened by the blush on his cheeks and the happy swish of his tail.

“Let’s go, we’ve should start walking if we want to make it in time,” He responded as he started off, her hand still firmly in his.

Tav was glad she had waited to find out what he had meant by ‘make it in time’. Rolan and her walked along the river and down to the seashore. They talked about what they’d been up to since they’d seen each other last and day to day activities at the Tower. She quickly grew to love the feeling of holding hands with him, even if they’d gotten a few disapproving looks from passers-by along the way. Initially she’d thought that Rolan hadn’t noticed, but the angry flicks of his tail and the quickened pace he set made her realize that he had. She pressed closer to Rolan and silently hoped he understood what she meant by it.

They’d had to walk a little further to find someplace where the pollution from the city wasn’t as evident. She frowned at the littered bottles and the shine of oil on the surface of the water. Finally, they’d reached an area deemed satisfactory by Rolan. From within the pack, he produced a blanket which he’d set out. He invited her to sit down on it. While she got comfortable, he’d also grabbed a bottle of wine and two cups from the pack. The familiar label caught her eye, and he noticed the curious look on her face with a smile.

“The wine from the party at the Emerald Grove, it always reminds me of you,” he said coyly.

He poured them each a glass and sat down next to her on the blanket.

“I’m glad we made it before sunset,” He added. Tav hadn’t spoken, she was too overwhelmed with emotion. Her heart raced and she sipped at the wine, trying to resist the urge to confess her love to the wizard right then and there. She remembered to smile back at him almost too late. As she stared at his face in the brilliant last rays of sunlight before the sunset, she prayed a silent prayer to the Oakfather that she could hold on to the memory of this moment forever.

“What?” He said looking a little annoyed but with a subtle blush as he noticed the intensity of her stare.

“You have freckles,” she said trying to quell the panic as she substituted those three words for the three words her brain was commanding her heart not to say. His blush ceased being subtle. She cleared her throat and stared out at the water.

“This is perfect, Rolan, thank you,” she said softly after a moment.

“Surely you didn’t think this was it, Tav?” He said with that classic confidence she found so attractive. He reached into the half-full pack and grabbed a few small containers. With the wave of his hand, a small bonfire sprung up on the sand a safe distance from their blanket, but close enough to keep them warm.

“I put together a few snacks I thought would go well with the wine,” He grinned as he opened the lids of the containers to show off an assortment of dried fruits and meats, cheeses, and dark chocolate. Tav’s eyes widened when she saw the chocolate — it was a rare treat and also her favorite sweet. It was an indulgent love she’d told very few people about.

“I may have asked my sister for advice on the food,” he said sheepishly as he noticed her happy reaction.

“I love it,” she said surging forward to kiss him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand already finding it’s way into his beautiful brunette hair. His strong arms pulled her into his lap. She deepened the kiss with her opened mouth, failing to contain a slight whine of need when she felt their tongues embrace. When they broke for air, Rolan nipped and kissed down her jaw.

“We’re. Going. To. Miss. The. Sunset.” He said, each word punctuated by a soft nip of teeth or kiss down her jaw and throat. She shuddered slightly at each touch, writhing against his lap. He groaned and pulled away. Tav couldn’t help but pout, but she didn’t want to ruin what he had clearly worked hard in planning.

She felt his hands on her hips turning her around in his lap. He opened his legs to position her between them with her back against his chest.

“Is this okay?” he asked. She nodded eagerly in response; grateful she wasn’t facing him because she was sure an idiotic grin was plastered across her face. He wrapped an arm around her middle and used the other to help them grab their cups and snacks as they chatted and watched the sunset. Sometimes he surprised her by feeding her a bite and rewarding her with a soft kiss to the back of her neck that left her trembling. The sunset was spectacular. Hues of pink splashed across the sky as twilight overtook the day. It felt like it had been painted just for them.

When the last of the light vanished from the horizon and the stars began to shine through the blanket of darkness in the night sky, Rolan waved a hand to dim their campfire. Tav couldn’t help but gasp slightly as the reality of how dark it had gotten became clear to her. She felt him lean forward against her back and bring his lips down to ear.

“Now for my surprise for you,” He said in a dusky whisper that ran up her spine like a chill, “don’t move.”

His arm left her waist as he chanted a spell that she thought she’d heard before, raising both arms above them. Colorful magic erupted from his fingertips, blooming into massive fireworks in the night sky above them. Booming explosions of blue and purple that stole Tav’s breath, so large they were probably seen from the city and boats out at sea. She leaned back against Rolan’s chest with her head on his shoulder as she looked directly up at the fantastic spectacle, she noticed Rolan wasn’t looking at the sky anymore but over at her instead.

“Is this,” She cleared her throat a little, finding herself once again struggling with a flood of emotions which threatened to overwhelm her, “the trick from the Grove party?”

“Yes, it’s what it was supposed to look like if I hadn’t gotten… distracted,” he said as the fireworks faded away.

“Distracted?” She laughed. “You’ve clearly been practicing! That was incredible!”

Tav felt his lips on the back of her neck once more and the familiar heat creep up inside her once more.

“You… are very distracting,” he said planting soft kisses just behind her ear.

She twisted around quickly and pressed her lips to his, so unexpectedly she bowled him over on to his back. Climbing on top of him, she kissed him with a passionate need as her hands wandered down to where his shirt was tucked into his pants.

“Not here,” He moaned between kisses, “Not outside in the sand.”

“Need you,” She panted into his mouth, “Don’t want to wait for the walk back.” Respecting his wishes, she whined as she pulled back to study his face.

“I’ve got one more surprise, to help with that,” He puffed, noticeably shifting a bulge in his pants as he sat up. Tav cocked her head curiously at him as she sat back on the blanket.

“I wanted to try my plan for how we’ll get to the wedding in Waterdeep in a few months, if that’s okay?” He breathed excitedly. Tav nodded nervously in response. Rolan helped her to her feet and produced one last item from his pack, a scroll. He carefully packed away the blanket and other items from their date. He unrolled the scroll and took her hand, Tav could see his handwriting all over the parchment. Arcane looking drawings and calculations littered the page. He looked over at her with a confident smile and then back to the page as he began to chant the spell. For a moment his eyes glowed and she could swear he hovered slightly above the sand. She was in awe of how powerful he was becoming, clearly studying hard and devoting himself to his work.

A shimmer started in front of them that transformed into a swirling vortex of magic, as Rolan chanted. Before long the vortex cracked open with an electric buzz, becoming a portal. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and lead her through the opening he had summoned. A rush of rosewater scented Weave permeated her senses for a moment. As she opened her eyes again, she saw they were back at the Tower. In the middle of his study to be specific.

“Damnation I hadn’t meant to end up here,” he said looking around exasperated. He dropped her hand to set the pack down.

“Where were we supposed to end up?” She asked nervously.

“I was aiming for out front, like a gentleman, but my mind wandered here,” he said with his signature hint of frustration.

“Am I distracting you again? Why did your mind wander here, Rolan?” She said as she moved closer to him. Tav was determined to snap him out of his frustration over the spell. She pouted her lip slightly and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“Gods, you minx, you are making that face on purpose,” He gritted out, looking flushed as he continued, “I was thinking of the last time we were here together.”

She pressed herself flush against him now, arching her back as she pulled his head down slightly to where she could whisper in his ear.

“Did you want to take me on your desk, Rolan?” She breathed into his ear, letting her lips brush the sensitive point. She felt his hands clutch her hips tight.

“Gods, Tav, Yes,” He panted.

“So do it now,” she said as she leaned back to look up at him once more. His hair had partially fallen out of the bun from their kissing on the beach, his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were consumed with lust. The look on his face made her drip with need.

When she made eye contact again, all of Rolan’s control snapped as he lunged forward to kiss her. She could see that part of him that had worked so hard to be the perfect gentleman all night burn away with desire. His rugged arms clutched her tight to him and pushed her back across the room at the same time. Before long she felt the hard edge of his desk against her hip.

“Now what have I told you?” He said breathily as he broke away for air, “Don’t be greedy.” His lips and teeth brushed against the spot on her neck that never failed to unravel her. It shouldn’t surprise her the wizard was such a quick study. She couldn’t help but throw her head back and moan loudly with desire.

“Please, Rolan, please,” She begged as he nipped and sucked at that spot even harder, surely leaving evidence of their coupling. The thought made her ever hotter.

“Please… what?” He responded as his lips broke from her skin only so he could grab her face with a firm but gentle hand, looking right into her eyes. Her heart lurched when she saw her own lust and need reflected on his face.

“Please, fuck me Rolan,” She whined sweetly.

His hands dropped to her butt to swiftly lift her up onto his desk, then quickly pulled her shirt over her head. In a flurry of hands and lips they removed the clothes separating them. Neither of them bothering to look where any of their garments had landed in the fray. He moaned into her mouth as their bare skin pressed together, always so warm against her. She couldn’t help but make a desperate little sound as he stepped back from her to take her in, allowing her to admire him at the same time.

The freckles she had noted earlier continued across his perfect scarlet skin. Ridges covered his body, creating a tapestry across his body that her hands wanted to trace every inch of. She noted with eagerness, that there were even ridges on his hardened length, which he stroked slightly as he sized her up.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Tav,” He said unflinchingly as he reached out with his other hand and tucked a loose hair behind her ear, “I can’t believe you want me,”

Rolan, I love you. Her mind screamed and she bit her lips hard to keep the words inside. She couldn’t think rationally right now, and this wasn’t the time to blurt it out.

“I need you, Rolan, please,” She begged again, feeling her need dripping onto the cool desk beneath her.

He pressed close again and kissed her hard, a hand finding her folds and slipping a finger inside of her. She arched into the kiss with a loud moan.

“Fuck, Tav, you’re dripping for me, aren’t you?” He groaned between kisses.

“Please,” Her mind was blank. Only her need for Rolan remained. “Please,” she whined again, it was all she could manage.

“I promise next time I’ll tease you longer, but I need you too,” he said as he gently pushed her back to lay down on the desk. He teased the head of his cock up and down her dripping need, eliciting more desperate whines from her. Then he pushed into her. She could have sworn her heart stopped. She felt every inch and ridge inside her as he filled her ever so slowly. He let out a grunt when he bottomed out in her. Tav’s hands clawed at the desk as her back instinctively arched up into him, moaning his name loudly.

“You feel fucking perfect,” He growled slightly. All Tav could do was nod in response as she breathed and adjusted to the size of him. After giving her time, he began to fuck her slowly but firmly. He lifted her legs up and held them to keep her open for him. Her brain couldn’t find the words, if it could she would have told him that no other lover had ever felt so good inside of her.

After a few minutes of letting her adjust to the pace, he increased the speed. Letting one of her legs drop over his shoulder, he reached down between her legs to stroke her clit gently. Tav wailed in response, her eyes rolling back into her head as he hit that perfect spot within her with each thrust. Coupled with his hand, it didn’t take long for him to make her come. She did so, screaming his name as she clenched and came on his cock. He fucked her through it, whispering words of praise she could barely comprehend in her current state.

He groaned hard and gasped her name at the feeling of her climax. He dropped her legs and craned down to kiss her. Needing more, he climbed onto his desk to cage his body over hers. He swiped at what remained on the desk to make more room, neither of them bothering to look at what had crashed down to the floor. His strokes were faster and harder now, she could feel him start to shudder and gasp as he got closer to his own release. He kissed and sucked on her jaw again, working his way down the other side of her neck that hadn’t yet been marked.

“Where— “He growled against her neck.

“Inside, please,” She gasped. Understanding his meaning, she canted her hips up to take him deeper.

He moaned loudly at the sensation and then bit down on her neck. The combination of pain and pleasure took her over the edge once more and she screamed Rolan’s name at the top of her lungs as she came again. At the same time, she felt the throbbing of his cock as he finished deep inside her. He grunted her name as his hips stuttered against hers. She could feel where his sharpened teeth had punctured her skin and knew that she’d surely look worse for wear tomorrow. He panted loudly as he gently sagged down on top of her, still supporting part of his own weight on his arms and legs.

“Was that? Good?” He puffed out, letting a hint of uncertainty show.

“Gods, Rolan, it was perfect” She gasped between breaths as she tried to slow her heart which currently pounded in her chest. He kissed her neck, and she could feel him smile against her skin.

After a few moments he left and brought her back a glass of water and a towel. He cared for her and helped her get cleaned up. Every few minutes she noticed he would kiss some part of her again, like he couldn’t go too long without showing his affection. Eventually he helped her to his bed, still lavishing gentle kisses on her as he wrapped himself around her, they nodded off in each others' arms.

If only she was brave enough to tell him that with every kiss, she fell a little more in love with him. It was the last thought she remembered as she fell asleep to the sound of Rolan’s steady breaths as he slept.

Dividers by @ Olenvasynyt on tumblr

Thank you for reading!! Comments/Kudos/Likes/Reblogs appreciated

[ofstoriesandstardust]

austin (j.h.s.)

a/n: this is all for @cottagecori who made the mistake of asking me what i was putting jake through now

summary: A year after Jake washes out from the Navy, and almost fifteen after you’d seen him last, you re-meet him at a dive bar outside of Austin. Drunk, bruised, and alone, you find a shell of your former lover.

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mentions of physical violence, references to Mav and Bradley dying, angsty, unedited, highly suggest you listen to austin by dasha

word count: 1.1k

You wince at the burn of alcohol sliding down your throat as you toss back the shot of cheap tequila. 

As much as you try, nothing will numb the pain of coming back to this town outside of Austin, wipe the memories of the people and the places you left behind here. 

One of the ghosts is seated across from you at the grimy table in this dive bar on the edge of town. 

The dim light in the joint doesn’t hide the bruises coloring Jake’s face, and the exhaustion he wears is not one you remember on the often smiling boy who’d kept you warm at night and brightened your days. 

“Are you getting into bar brawls again?” You ask softly, turning his face with your knuckle to get a better look at the cut on his lip. 

“Why’re you here?” He slurs. 

The man before you is drunk, far drunker than you’ve ever seen him before. You doubt he’ll remember this interaction come morning light, if think of it as nothing more than a hazy alcohol-induced dream. 

That thought is what makes you feel safe, being here next to him and asking questions you wouldn’t have otherwise. 

If Jake had been here sober, been coherent and able to give you real answers, you’d have gotten nowhere near him. 

Not after he’d left you, cold in and alone in that bed the two of you used to share. 

“Your anger has always been your fatal flaw.” You say with a sigh, turning back to your warming beer. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“You should know better by now Jake what it means to me.”

After what most would consider to be a perfect night, after whispered promises of a future and forever, after plans of marriage that would never escape the dark of night, Jake had left. 

“I washed out, okay?” Jake finally snaps after a few minutes of tension-filled silence. “Got two- two good men killed because I wasn’t enough when it really counted. Bet it makes you feel good, watching my demise after-” He hiccups. “After all I did to you.” 

You blink. 

You’d heard Jake’s dreams of joining the Navy as the two of you had always planned your escape from this town with parents and lives that confined you so. 

But that’s all they’d ever seemed to be to you: dreams. 

Jake never talked of bringing them to fruition, of going after what he wanted. 

It makes sense that he would leave you in the dust of his rearview mirror to go after what it was that he truly wanted. 

How long had he planned on leaving? How long had he known that he would say goodbye?

Finally, you sigh. 

The knowledge that Jake had failed in his dreams does little to assuage the sting at what it had all cost him. 

“No, Jake. It doesn’t make me feel good to hear that. I loved you.” 

“Past tense?” He hiccups. His eyes are glassy.

You sigh again, letting your arm rest on the grimy bar top. “Jake-”

“Because I didn’t stop loving you.” 

The admission makes you stop breathing for a moment, questions swirling in your chest. 

How long has Jake been like this? Days, weeks, months, years? How long had he sat in this town, getting drunk to forget and sleeping in drunk tanks and getting into bar brawls, all waiting and hoping for your return? 

How many years now had it been since you’d forced yourself to leave this boy in your past as he had left you? 

But the reality is the broken man sitting in front of you is not the man you loved.

That boy had been kind. Like golden rays of light. He’d been sweet and charming unlike any other. He whispered promises of forever under a warm blanket of security. That boy had gone line dancing with you, keeping you laughing all through the night. He’d been the kid who helped you your math homework while letting you help him with his English. 

This stranger in front of you is not the Jake you once knew.

This Jake has reached the precipice of no return, at a point only he can walk away from. This Jake is hardened by years of Navy service, details of which you’ll never know. This Jake is washed up, alone, drinking to ease the pain, only pennies to his name. This Jake lets others hurt him as a punishment he believes he deserves. This Jake is forever haunted by the ghosts of his past, living and dead. This Jake will live with what happened for evermore. 

“Come home.” He whispers. “It can be like it was. I’ll be good to you this time, I promise.”

His request makes you shudder. It would be so easy to let yourself fall back. 

You could be the one to get him sober. You could be the one to get him into therapy, to get his truck back. To get him in a park of cowboy boots and dance around like he used to. 

You could be his sunlight. 

But you know Jake will never fully forget what happened and you know Jake will never be the same. 

You could see that future now.

You’d plead and beg and scream for him to stay sober but he’d always fall back. He’d bleed your bank accounts dry. You’d wait on the front porch for him to return, only for him to never come home again. He’d find his way into an untimely death, crashing his car into the side of the road or letting some person beat him too far, leaving you in shambles once more. 

No amount of love you had for the boy Jake had once been will save the stranger in front of you. 

“I don’t deserve you, I know that. Just come back to me.”

The pleading in his voice is what breaks you. It’s what propels you while haunting all your dreams. 

“Goodbye Jake.” You whisper, slipping off the barstool.

His eyes fall, the sadness consuming them. You try not to think about it as you leave this place behind. 

Jake had left you behind once before. He would do it again. 

The truth was that Jake would never move past this moment right here. This rock bottom for him is all he would ever continue to be. 

Maybe Jake had no way forward, but you did. 

It was time for you to forget him. For good. 

“in 40 years you’ll still be here/drunk washed up in Austin”

[laniloowho]

So uh my friends hate it when I talk about Yellowjacket’s so I’m gonna rant to yall about it instead. Basically tell you the whole plot of season 1

Yellowjackets is a psychological thriller that weaves together two timelines to tell the haunting story of survival, trauma, and secrecy. In 1996, a high school girls’ soccer team from New Jersey—the Wiskayok High Yellowjackets—earns a spot at the national championship. While flying to the tournament, their private plane crashes deep in the remote Canadian wilderness. With limited resources and no sign of rescue, the teenage girls, along with a few adults, are forced to survive under brutal conditions for 19 months. The series gradually reveals that during this time, the group descended into violence, factionalism, and ultimately cannibalism, with hints of ritualistic and possibly supernatural influences shaping their decisions.

In the wilderness, their fragile unity unravels as food shortages, injury, and extreme weather push them to their limits. Lottie Matthews, a wealthy but mentally ill teammate, begins having vivid visions and prophetic dreams, which others start interpreting as signs or omens. Her growing spiritual influence leads to the formation of a cult-like group within the survivors, believing in a mysterious, possibly supernatural force residing in the forest. Meanwhile, Misty, a socially awkward and manipulative team equipment manager, sabotages a potential rescue by destroying the plane’s black box, desperate to be seen as essential. Shauna, another central survivor, discovers she is pregnant with the child of her best friend Jackie’s boyfriend, adding further tension. Jackie, a natural leader, becomes increasingly isolated before dying early in the group’s exile. Over time, the girls devolve into primal survivalists, performing strange rituals and eventually resorting to cannibalism to stay alive.

In the present-day storyline—set 25 years later—four of the main survivors are still grappling with the consequences of their time in the woods. Shauna now leads a seemingly normal suburban life with a husband and teenage daughter, but she harbors violent tendencies and a web of secrets, including a murder she commits after an affair. Natalie, deeply traumatized and battling addiction, returns to New Jersey after her former lover and fellow survivor, Travis, is found dead under suspicious circumstances. She begins investigating whether his death was really a suicide or if something darker is at play. Taissa has become a successful politician, running for state senate, but she is plagued by dissociative behavior and eerie nighttime episodes that hint at a lingering supernatural presence. Misty, now a cheerful but unsettlingly obsessive nurse, inserts herself into the group’s reassembly under the guise of helping—but her actions are often manipulative and controlling.

As the women are blackmailed by an unknown party who knows what they did in the wilderness, they are forced to reunite and face the long-buried truths they’ve tried to escape. In Season 2, it is revealed that Lottie also survived and now leads a cult-like wellness center, continuing the spiritual ideas she began embracing in the forest. As old memories surface and the boundaries between past and present blur, the survivors are drawn back into the darkness they thought they left behind. The show explores not only what they did to survive but also what it cost them—and what they’re still capable of doing

[madhatterbri]

Star-Crossed | Hangman A.P.

Summary: A fic about the time two star-crossed lovers didn't make it and the one time they did.

Author's Note: Bored? Play my newest escape room found here. Also, fair warning, this is sad.

Hangman Adam Page Masterlist

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @hotgirlgraps

🇺🇲

The year was 1865. Despite vowing to never return, Adam Page found himself walking through the fields of Gettysburg. The wind blew through his blonde hair. Despite the calm scenery, he still saw the bodies of comrades scattered amongst the fields.

His boots carried him as memories continued to pour in. Lost in the thoughts of his mind, he didn't notice he was in front of her house until it was too late. His green eyes filled with tears.

Y/N was his first love, his only love. Her family moved to Gettysburg when she was a little girl. When he sent her an urgent letter that war was coming to her, she wouldn't leave. He took a shaky breath and blinked.

Papers after the Battle of Gettysburg reported that their was only one civilian casualty. A girl by the name of Jennie Wade, who was shot by a stray bullet. There was no recollection of his Y/N. It was as if she never existed.

Adam walked into the house. Long abandoned after the owner died, nature was starting to reclaim the house and land. His eyes played tricks on him. All the times they spent in the house together. Adam dropped to his knees and cried.

🐎

The year was 1875. "Hangman" Adam Page was now sheriff in the Wild West. He used the skills picked up in the military to bring lawlessness down in his little town. He was favored heavily by his governor, Tony Khan.

Despite the fact that he was doing good, he made a lot of enemies. Men who would love to hurt him at any cost. He had a group of men to protect him, though. Friends such as the Young Bucks and Kenny Omega to keep things in order.

Adam managed to fall in love again. A dead ringer of his lost Y/N, she made her loss seem almost bearable. She knew all about his lost love. Long and countless nights, he would wake up whimpering. The image of her slain body appeared so real before him.

One night, he came home to the wooden door left open. His friends looked at each other nervously. One of his numerous enemies must have found the hideout. He cursed and jumped off his horse. Revolver in hand, Adam ran inside and stopped. He started to yell no.

Adam dropped to his knees and scooped her in his arms. Tears poured down to her face. There was no surviving this. Even if a doctor was to burst it at any moment. She looked at him as the light left her eyes.

"At least I got to see you one last time,"

❤️

Adam Page made his way through the busy city that was hosting AEW that night. Lost in his phone, he managed to bump into a woman. Their phones dropped on the floor.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention," Y/N sighed and picked up their phones.

"It's on me, darling. I didn't mean to," he stopped when their eyes finally met. The woman had a familiarity with her. Maybe she went to a previous show of his. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, but I wouldn't mind knowing you," she answered.

Adam smiled, and the two of them started to walk together. Behind them, the ghosts of their past smiled at one another. Maybe this time, they would finally be together.