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endearng · 2 days ago

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Doomed

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: If you and Spencer had a nickel every time someone teased you after witnessing your interactions, you'd have two nickels, which isn't much — but it's weird that it happened twice. WC: 4.4k Warnings: Mentions of abandonment and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I'm so obsessed with them... in a normal amount of course. I'm thinking about writing casually for them, who knows... Also,,,, who am I if not a morcia truther….. I hope you enjoy it! Feedbacks are always appreciated <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

You were doomed from the moment he bid you goodbye.

"So, who's he?" Victoria inquired, a sly smirk on her face and a bashful expression on yours.

"Who's who?" You asked, trying to feign nonchalance.

She groaned playfully, "You know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't." You winked, sitting on your couch again, between the two women. Sex and the City was playing on the TV across from the three of you.

"You're acting like us as freshmen when the seniors looked at us—" she retorted.

"I thought we didn't talk about that," Jude deadpanned.

"You're 'I don't know what you're talking about' me? I thought we were friends!" Victoria poked you in the rib.

"Ouch! He's just a friendly neighbor, that's it." You said, trying to cut the subject. Jude looked at you suspiciously. "White wine time."

From Spencer's apartment, he could hear the sound of chatter, joyful laughter and opening bottles for the rest of the night. He didn't know how to feel by your invitation, now that he had calmed down after looking you in the eye for a moment, technically, all by yourselves. He would definitely feel inappropriate at a kid's birthday where he barely knew the people who invited him, but he thought that Olivia's gesture was amazingly endearing. What could possibly be more childishly adorable than an infant trying to help and making a 'mistake'? And what could possibly be more devastatingly endearing than a mother taking advantage of said mistake to make it right?

Spencer studied the card for a moment. It fit the palm of his hand, tiny and delicate. It had a different address from yours and the time of the party, all of it lovely handwritten, just like the letters from calligraphy practice notebooks. It seemed like Olivia put a lot of effort in trying to perfect her handiwork. It read:

Hey, it's Oli!

I'm turning six and I want to celebrate it with you!

The contents of the slip of paper were adorned by dainty drawings related to birthdays: party hats, cake, gifts, some decoration and so on. It suddenly dawned on him that he was actually becoming closer to the people he always thought lived a perfect life. His mind had a tendency to wander and, for a fleeting moment, he thought about what it would be like to be part of that perfect life.

Olivia was a perfectionist child. He saw the expected behavior of the age in her manners, but the care with her work almost made him think someone else had done it for her. Something told him it wasn't the case, though.

Secured by two magnets, he placed Olivia's birthday party invitation on his fridge. You know, just so he wouldn't forget it — he tried to convince himself.

Everybody knew about his otherworldly memory, but he decided to forget it purposefully.

"Good morning, good ghost. I didn't see you anymore." Olivia greeted as she saw Spencer in front of the elevator. You were just locking your door closed, hyping yourself up for the week ahead of you when you heard it and a shiver ran down your spine. This, whatever it was, was getting out of hand.

"Good morning, Miss Olivia!" He said, a sweet tone of voice. You melted. "It's true. It's been a while. I was here on the weekend, but it seemed like you had other plans." He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She did it in a heartbeat.

"I was with my grandma and grandpa. They took me to the movies and grandpa made me lasagna." She explained as you approached them, adjusting your bag and Olivia's backpack in each of your arms. "Did'ya get my birthday party invitation?"

"Yes, I did! Thank you for inviting me. But, you know, your mother probably needed the rest of them for the other guests." He said as the elevator opened. He gestured for you to enter it first, so you did it with a grateful nod.

"Sorry, mommy. I didn't mean it." Olivia looked at you briefly, ashamed that you would call her out.

"I know, baby, 's okay. Everyone has one now." You assured her with a light tone. Breathe. "Hi, Spencer. Good morning." You said as he joined you in the elevator.

He breathed out, "Good morning. Hi." He had a big smile on his face, standing right next to you, you both facing the door and Olivia in front of you. Internally, he felt like a puppy who had his owners’ undivided attention.

Olivia pressed the button to the lobby. You noticed a book in his hands. Courage. "So, what are you reading, Spencer?"

He gulped. Were you talking to him? It took him a moment to get a grip and realize that he hadn't answered you. Struggling to find the words and suddenly unable to remember what he was actually reading. "Me? I'm just re-reading one of Dostoievski's books. Notes from Underground."

"Dosto-what?" Olivia chipped in.

You looked at her, ready to tell her to not interrupt someone, but couldn't stop yourself from giggling. Spencer watched it fondly. "It's Dostoievski, baby. D'you remember that one book with the 'ugly' cover that mommy was reading the other day?" You asked her, air quoting the word 'ugly'. “It wasn’t ugly. It just wasn’t pink.” You explained it, looking at Spencer. He grinned.

"Yeah. You didn't read to me because it was work." She said, getting distracted with one of her braids.

"Are you a teacher?" He asked, intrigued.

"No. I actually work for a publishing company. Sometimes I have interesting content to revise." You said, a tinge of irony in your voice. He smiled at you, feeling comfortable enough to joke around him without the awkwardness of that first encounter.

The elevator door opened. Olivia jumped out. "I bet it's interesting," was the best he could come up with. Tongue tied.

“Yeah. It’s a good book.”

Like a fucking teenager, he watched as you left with your daughter. Your mixed laughter echoing in the lobby as Olivia spinned around while you carried the weight all by yourself.

He scolded himself for not remembering to offer you help.

Two days later, a few states over, Spencer sat on a chair at the conference room of the precinct they were working with. The case was exhausting and he just wanted it to be over, but it wasn't that simple. He waited for Derek Morgan — he was his ride that night back to the hotel they were crashing on. He was in front of Derek as he and Penelope talked, her image on the computer screen. The man's nonchalant tone was a riddle for her to unsolve — everyone else was aware that there was definitely something between them (an unspoken dictionary worth of words), even if their interactions were deemed as jokes. Penelope, feeling very shy, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her lap after a particular comment about her smile. As she did so, her eyes caught a glance of her watch. "Oh, shoot. I have to go," she murmured, relieved to have a way out of the exchange that had high chances of turning her into a nervous wreck. "I'm so sorry, handsome! Tomorrow is one of my friend's daughter's birthday."

A flash of disappointment crossed Derek's features. Not that she'd noticed. Instead of pressing her, he chose to say, "Need extra energy to keep up with the kids, babygirl?" Ah, there was it. The teasing tone. She was definitely imagining things.

"Not as much as I need to keep up with you, tiger," she replied with a wink, the dynamic between them quickly shifting back to the usual playful banter. Both of them wanted more than playful and far more than banter, but none of them had the courage to admit it, to be straightforward about it. Spencer understood it, really. Speaking made things too real. "But, seriously. I totally forgot to pick up her gift. Olivia loves reading, so I'll go to the mall. I'm glad I already bought it, so I won't get home late."

If he was a dog, Spencer's ears would have definitely perked up from how quickly he associated one thing to another. Could it be the same Olivia? Your Olivia? "Okay, mama. Be safe." Derek said.

"I will," she smiled as she hung up.

Idiots.

Maybe Derek was too serious about the "no profiling each other" rule they set.

"Let’s go, pretty boy," The dark-skinned agent stated. Spencer got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to the elevator with her.

As they chatted about nothing in particular, walking out of the precinct, he desperately wanted to ask him if she truly didn't see past Penelope's sudden shyness. It wasn't in his nature to do that, of course, but as Derek and Penelope were two of the most important people in his life, he wondered why wouldn't they be a thing by now, since they enjoyed themselves so much and were so open about their affections towards one another.

He was quickly ripped away from his thoughts when the man suddenly spoke up, “So, what's your deal lately, Reid? What's she like?"

The doctor choked on his own saliva, which made him cough like crazy. Derek laughed, but tried to help his panicked friend. "What was that, man?" he asked worriedly, once he saw Spencer had finally inhaled a gulp of air.

Face as red as a tomato, cough dying in his throat, "what was what?" Derek returned to his normal self once he noticed his friend was able to finally form a coherent sentence.

"You're gonna act dumb now that you almost died when I talked about her?" Derek questioned, teasing tone, "it was just a lucky guess, but I see you, Reid. You're daydreaming far too often for what's acceptable for the boy genius who's as focused as a laser beam."

Spencer looked straight ahead as they got to the exit. He should have cornered Derek first. "Why would you think it has anything to do with a 'her'?" He chuckled, nervous to be caught red-handed — even if he wasn't doing anything wrong.

Was it wrong to want? He felt like it was. All his life, really. Had no chance to want anything because either was a far too distant reality, person, happiness for him to grasp it or it was ripped away from him too soon, before he could even acknowledge what was happening inside him. That's why want was almost a foreign sensation for Spencer. He had been deprived of it for as long as he could remember.

"Because people get a little dumb when they're in love. At least, ordinary people do. Apparently, so do geniuses," he snickered, his mind also set on teasing Spencer.

Maybe it was dumb to reveal his secret, jaw dropping crush on his cute neighbor, but he wanted some sort of relief to that mess of tangled thoughts inside his head and the strange, to say the least, feelings brewing on his chest whenever he saw you. You barely knew each other. But he supposed it was yet another part of the want he wasn’t familiar with: it didn't need much and it took all consciousness out the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest whenever he was on the field, especially since he was often facing danger. The way the events were unfolding were scarily similar to his cases: he noticed you, made up theories based on your behavior and routine, and slowly, oh, so slowly, started to approach you. Not to put you away, but for more personal reasons.

What was different was the feeling in his heart, instead of the sensation of being squeezed painfully inside his ribcage, often leading to ragged breathing, now felt like it was being held delicately by a pair of caring, dainty hands. Either way, his heart was fighting in the frontline and relied on the other part to be calmed and saved. The least he could do was try to be careful, finally opting not saying anything to Derek.

"Just a lot on my mind lately," he chose to say, instead. Derek dropped the subject, too tired to press it further.

Olivia's party had come to an end an hour ago. You got to see old friends and talked until they got every single ounce of information about your life lately and so did you about theirs. Your daughter had enjoyed her party greatly, and hugged every. single. person. who came to wish her happy birthday and thanked them for being there. She paid little attention to the gifts, too focused on spending time with her friends, playing with them until the sugar rush wore off — all of them had a massive candy intake that day. You didn't spend much time with her, but she promised you that she would unwrap her gifts the next morning with you, the most adorable toothless grin on her face.

Despite everything flowing accordingly, all day long, your stomach churned with anticipation. You wondered if Olivia's dad would show up, since the day she was born was, quote, the happiest of his life. His parents did, and when you looked at them anxiously, his mother shot you a neutral glance. Not a word from his end was its meaning. Your daughter never asked anything about him during the day, which made you even more jittery. You feared she would have a breakdown at any time, so you paid extra attention to her.

It never came.

You had missed the deadline of a book chapter that you had to revise, too caught up on trying to balance everything in your life, so your parents told you they'd stay with her so you could go home to work and take her in the morning. Normally, you wouldn't accept it, but your father had decided you were too tired to wake her to go home, so you complied. Right after the guests left, you did all the steps of her night routine, except for the bedtime story — she was that tired of all the running around in the backyard. You were sure she would sleep all night long.

Once she dozed off, you stood for a moment in her grand-bedroom (she had come up with that and it kind of stuck with you). Your parents had decorated it while you were still pregnant. She needs to feel at home, was what your mother said when you walked in on them assembling her crib. You almost cried, overwhelmed with joy. Your fiancé, then, had rolled up his sleeves to help out. Oh, the irony.

Her room was full of photographs that held many memories of her six years of life. You could never imagine that you could love this much, let alone dedicate yourself so entirely to someone like you did for her. Even though it was hard and you often didn't feel like you were enough to raise her on your own, Olivia was a wonderful child and her gestures and overall behavior assured you you were doing a good job. The reflection brought tears to your eyes. You drove home by yourself.

Currently, in your apartment, it felt a little too big without Olivia in there — too many books, too many chairs, too much space on your sofa, too many toys scattered around with nobody to play with them. You sighed, deciding on going to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea — you felt like your brain was hammering inside your skull and you still needed to spend time in front of a computer screen. Going back to your small office to wallow in self pity and second guess yourself even as you read whatever material it was, you heard a knock on the door.

You checked your watch. 9p.m. On a Saturday.

Weird.

Through the peephole, you saw someone you truly weren't expecting. "Spencer?" You asked as you opened the door, surprise filling your being. "I didn't think you'd come, I supposed you were at work. I mean, sometimes it feels like you barely have a routine, heh. But, um, thanks for dropping by." You said, a little unfiltered. Not even five seconds in his presence and you were already making a fool of yourself in front of him.

He held a small bouquet of flowers in one of his hands and a gift in the other. To a stranger's eye, it seemed like he had missed your birthday and was trying to apologize for it. You blushed at the thought. He shut his eyes, sorry crossing his features. "I know. I'm sorry I missed it, even though I really didn't want to. You were right, I was away on a case." You smiled, dismissing his apologies and soothing his worries once you did so.

"It's alright with me. She was totally expecting you, though. Kept asking where you were for the first hour. Then she got distracted with candy," you told him, "so she's the one you're gonna need to apologize to." You joked.

"T—that's why I'm here."

"I'm just not sure if Olivia is old enough to get flowers," you said, face serious. His eyes went wide and it took him a moment to understand, but once he looked at your serious expression cracking, his shoulders shook with laughter, with you. If you had more attention, you'd seen the moment his ears turned red.

Your laughter died down. A beat of silence. "These are actually for you." He revealed.

You were stunned. "Oh," you said, suddenly at a loss of words. "Thank you so much."

He gave you the flowers and you gracefully accepted. You were mesmerized by them; colors swimming in harmony before your eyes and the scent making you feel dizzy. Maybe not the scent, but the emotions you were feeling with the surprise. He went out of his way to get you those flowers — it's safe to say that it had been a while since you felt that way. "I—I have no words, Spencer. Really. Thank you so much," your voice choked.

You looked at each other for a brief moment. You tried to show how much you appreciated his gesture. You grinned, trying to get out of that haze, "Do you want to come in? Oli's with my parents, so you won't be able to apologize today," you quipped, making room for him to enter.

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"You can place the giftbox on the coffee table." He went inside, toeing off his shoes in the small space you had before the living room. Once he was there, he saw you enter the kitchen to find a vase. He could see you from where he stood. "Make yourself at home. Do you want some tea? I have Earl Gray."

Your voice was distant as he took in his surroundings. "Yeah, I'd like it." He murmured as he looked around. Your walls were a light gray, adorned with pictures of you and Olivia, some people he assumed were some of your friends. The wall behind the sofa was entirely covered by a big bookshelf that went from one end to the other, filled with books and souvenirs from basically everywhere. The dark wood of the furniture complemented the light walls in a cozy way, some toys and kids books scattered around the floor. The apartment smelled like fresh printed sheets of paper and earl gray tea. You had a few indoor plants that looked well taken care of. Spencer was admiring your degree from Stanford, which hung on the wall beside the TV, almost close to the door.

"One of my biggest achievements. Besides Olivia, of course," you approached him with his mug of tea. Turning to you, he noticed through his peripheral vision that you had placed the flowers inside a vase and in your coffee table.

"Thanks," he said.

"So... are you okay?"

The question caught him off guard. What?

You smiled a little. "You always look kinda tired when I see you," you said, not thinking about how your words might be interpreted. Your eyes widened, realizing it. "I mean, no! Sorry! You're still pretty, don't worry. It's just— I asked because you might be going through something. Forget I said anything about your looks."

He would definitely never forget.

Spencer laughed, flustered, eyes softly gazing at you while you rambled like a madman. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Sometimes my job is a little demanding and I'm forced to see some things that usually people don't even think exist," he confessed.

You bit your lip. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," he retorted, "I have a great team to work with."

"I'm glad to hear that. Sorry I brought it up, you probably don't want to talk about work right now." You said, sipping on your tea.

"Yeah, you're right, again," he chuckled. "How was Olivia's birthday?" He tried a change of subject.

"That was actually the reason I was moping when you got here," you said, trying to force a chuckle. "It was nice, I guess. I was just on edge all day trying to anticipate her emotions regarding her dad, but I guess they never came. At least, not today." You beckoned him to sit with you on the couch, now facing each other directly.

"May I ask why?" He asked, tentatively.

"Why what?"

More hesitance. "Why wasn't he there?"

"From what I know, he moved away." You said, tone unreadable.

He worried that he was overstepping and wasn't sure that he would like to hear more about it. He was scared to find out unpleasant news, such as you still had feelings for him. "I'm sorry." Was all he could muster.

"Don't be. I have a great team," you repeated his words from earlier and he smiled at you.

His brain and tongue didn't seem to be working together that night, he was so avid to know more. "Did you always have support?"

"My parents didn't like the idea of having a single mother when they first heard it. It hit me hard back then, but then I realized it was better to be alone than to stay in an unhappy relationship, especially since Olivia was already in the picture." You said, setting your own mug on the coffee table.

"What happened?" Stop it.

He couldn't help it, he was too curious. It was his first opportunity to truly know the novel sort of family that you had. Apparently, not so much.

"He was distant before leaving. Someone else, maybe?" You asked, rhetorically, a crease between your eyebrows. "I never found out, but I don't want or need to, either. His parents absolutely love Olivia and they were there today, 's all that matters."

"You’re a very strong person."

"I have to be," you said, softly. "You’re a very good listener."

A rush of courage running through his veins. Deciding on not taking the road of unsaid things, like his friends were earlier. Don’t dance around the subject, take the opportunity. Dare. "And you're just as pretty."

The world stopped. You looked at him in disbelief. It didn't last much. A knock on your door. Scratch that: someone banging on your door.

You pinched your eyebrows together. Spencer stood up, almost as if he was doing something wrong. You looked at him, apologizing, "I'm not expecting anyone."

You walked to the door and he stood behind you, telling you he was going to let you be. You didn't want to and you were already chastising yourself from not trying to talk to him and focusing on your problems instead. You opened the door and in the threshold stood Penelope Garcia, gift basket in hands. Before you could speak, both of your guests spoke at the same time.

A mortified "Garcia?" from Spencer.

A surprised "Spencer?" from Penelope.

Finally, a confused "Do you know each other?" from you.

"Yeah. We work together." Spencer replied. "What are you doing here, Penelope?"

"What are you doing here, boygenius?" Her tone now was teasing, a cheshire grin on her face. You were acting confused, but you were loving to see Spencer so out of place.

"I... I was..." He trailed off.

Poor thing. "He came to drop Olivia's gift. We're neighbors." You explained, trying to save him from further embarrassment.

She glanced between you two, eyes full of mirth behind her glasses. "I'm here to do the same." She said, smiling as she handed you the basket, which you took carefully and thanked her with a side hug. "There's her present, sweetcheeks. I'm so sorry I couldn't be there, you know how much I miss you and Olivia. But I'm sure our genius told you all about it." Her sentimental words truly held emotion, but she turned her attention to Spencer once again. The opportunity was too good to let go.

Spencer looked like a fish out of water. You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. "Garcia, can we talk?" He asked abruptly. "I'm sorry, I have to go." He murmured in a much more soft tone to you.

He could never resume whatever was going on in there because he felt like he had been caught with his pants down.

You were so surprised you didn't even process what was your answer, forgetting to ask if Penelope wanted to come in or anything. "I—Okay. I'll see you, then." With a small smile and slight disappointment in your voice. He all but dashed out of your apartment and took Garcia, who had a mischievous expression on her face, with him. You closed your door and looked at the mix of flowers. A sigh escaped you. Damn, Garcia.

Spencer was escorting Penelope back to her car, ready to bury himself alive because he knew she would run her mouth and knew precisely to whom she would tell about it. And, of course, the endless jokes he would hear during the next few days. "Sooooo..." She trailed off, suggestively.

"I—don't want to talk." She opened her mouth, but had no success in talking. "Not. A. Word."

She entered her car and started the engine as he waited for her to go. But before she started driving, she yelled, "I knew you had it in you, Reid."

From your balcony, work long forgotten, you watched Spencer hide his face in his hands in utter embarrassment.

You were doomed.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x singlemom!reader #spencer reid neighbors au

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sorryimananti-romantic · 14 hours ago

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you coming out of your isolation cavern to read 🤝 me going to my isolation cavern after posting (we love our isocaverns don't we) BUT YES YOUR NAME! AHAHAHA no i needed that validation, tho i ended up making my villains milder than i had initially planned

AHAHAHA you should not have held back i would love to hear the feedback from bleach's perspective I USED SO MANY QUOTES HERE BRO but i'm sure you noticed most? of them hehe thank you for being so thoughtful tho <33

wc who i don't know her (it's 16kish im so sorry folks)

THAT MIDDLE PIC AAAAAAAA RIGHT i found it by chance but it's so fitting considering how all the cameras are pointing to him hehe

omg you're the second person to compare this to new world and this was unintentional but it ended up this way and now i see why too. he's a delulu prince in that fic, he's a delulu politician here. same same.

doing reblog reply same format as you so hongjoong:

PREP WHAT did i forget to mention that you're already PREPPED for him should i have to spell that out READER WAS PREPPED BEFORE THE EVENT EVEN BEGAN LOLLLLL (is prep short for prepared bc how come i never connected the dots)

omg the collective pronouns vs first person yes thank you for noticing i can always count on you to notice all the details (even those i haven't noticed myself LOL)

YES OMG we are manipulated and aware and trapped and in love and also wanting to be free we are ✨confused��

AND YES MY FAV DETAIL from going to being the salvation of the common people, 'they will, for the sake of loyalty, put a blindfold over their eyes. they will hold him in high reverence as he becomes their lord, their saviour' TOOOO he is 'your lord, your saviour' WHO ARE WE ARE WE THE COMMON PPL

seonghwa:

what do you mean you had to google what jekyll was about DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO/WHAT JEKYLL AND HYDE IS (screams do you not get the concept) (<-i've been using tiktok too much)

with park seonghwa... you gotta be delusional to function man

HELP AHAHAHAHA PREYING WHY DID ANIMALS BY MAROON 5 STARTED PLAYING IN MY HEAD WHEN I READ THAT LINE

LMAO okay miss ma'am i see you're the obsessive kind hmm *takes note*

lmao yes the soul society was supposed to be an alternate term for their society name but i came up with nothing better (i was cbs) so soul society it is

THEY'VE TEASED EACH OTHER ENOUGH IT'S TIME TO GET 🤪 FREAKYY

bruh so real story: i made seonghwa an alter-ego serial killer first, right. but... it wasn't working for me, bc for that to be impactful with someone like seonghwa, i felt like the reader had to be the victim or be morally white at first. but then it would become a story about seonghwa morally corrupting the reader (i think i should make that a separate fic) anddd then i decided seonghwa is a saint in all universes and must not get his hands directly dirty LOL idk i failed to write him as a true villain he's so morally white coded that all i could get to was morally grey seonghwa yfeel

yunho

AHAHAHA yes hunter yunho with that moodboard HITS (also another real story i planned to make him a stalker/serial killer but then i was like there's so much stalker stuff out there and then i spent some good time thinking what other villains he can make. cult leader- again, a lot of fics about it. so serial killer it is. again. basically guerrilla LOL)

can there be one yunho fic without a mention of his hand in my blog? if that happens, that's not me. that's an impostor.

how would girlie know he kills for fun when it's THE JEONG YUNHO come on chron we know we all would fold instantly

i'll fix him :D (i want him to fix me-)

YES AHAHAHAHA THOSE QUOTES are some of my fav from bleach and yes about your analysis that's not what i intended but if it comes off like that to the reader, that's a bonus for me bro (i actually wrote all of this fic head empty no thoughts so surprisingly the details you've caught in this, 90 percent happened on their own)

yeosang

oooo not even bones sounds interesting but yeah medical malpractice and stuff like this happens a lot in real life unfortunately :/

lmao the imagery right ahhahahaha 😭😭 just tired but can't-wait-to-see-the-loml yeosang coming for his daily kiss before he gets back to work LOL

THE GUTS WAS UNINTENTIONAL TOO SEE NOTHING SO FAR HAS BEEN INTENTIONAL BUT THANK YOU FOR ANALYSING THIS FIC LIKE A LITERATURE STUDENT LOVE YOU

RIGHT that bleach quote when i tell you i've been ITCHING to use it somewhere since i first came across it and only to end up using here is kinda diabolical djfghdfkgh

yeosang and chicken are besties again if i don't mention chicken in a yeosang fic? impostor

san

WAREHOUSE MENTION HEHEHE

yess also one of my fav quotes hehe and omg that quote hits too i'm gonna save it for sth in the future (also literally who do i need to sell my soul to to come up with the juiciest dialogues like tite kubo does)

yeah so san was the 3rd or 4th member i wrote (yeosang first and seonghwa second and maybe yunho after) and by that time i had already lost the plot (of how villains was not supposed to be cute fluff like THIS) but i'm happy with how this turned out anyway :')

yepp i'm gonna try doing the judge, jury and executioner trio fr in some fic in the future (says i who is taking a break from writing LOL it's never a break with me)

mingi

youth mv mingi >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

yep very domestic now this was intentional AHAHAHA thank you for commenting on it <3

RISKING IT ALL FOR A TIP LIKE A TRUE KDRAMA LEAD okay but when i write and i need to think about plot twists or whatever i usually think of my fic like a kdrama too and play it in my head so yes you can see the influence here

ahaha i'm glad i got mingi's characterisation good bc honestly for me he's been the hardest to write (bc he's literally me i'm literally mingi minus the being scared and jumpy part we're literally the same ppl)

omgg yes now that comparison you made thank you that put a smile on my face (says i who's been giggling the entire time i read your reblog)

EXCUSE ME WDYM YOU (H)ATE HIM DFGHDKJFGH IM CALLING THE COPS

real tho. mingi's was my fav to write too which is why i'm hoping i can make a full fic out of this and have exactly this painting scene somewhere :'))

wooyoung

wooyo MADE for e2l fics ngl

lmao your wooyo feedback is so funny WDYM GET IN LINE FDJGHKDFG

no but the clash between their jobs/morals and then their attraction. doomed lovers. oh, how i love doomed lovers :')

jongho

RIGHT my fav reader character was the jongho one we love a powerboss girly slay pop who's got crazy comebacks huehuehe

but yes the vulnerability in between this game they're playing. ahhh. they need to sit down and have a drink and really, really talk about why they are the way they are

AND YES i loved this lil moment where jongho tells reader to stand up straight like?? we love a man who recognises a woman's worth. the only time he'd want the reader to not stand up straight and maybe bend and maybe maybe be on her knees is when she finally submits to him iykwim-

BUT YES he remains a (loveable) little shit

YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME says she when in reality we all know that's not happening we fold way too easily-

Ateez as Villains

disclaimer: read at your own risk. do not interact if not comfortable with any tropes. reminder that this is a work of fiction and must be treated so.

warnings: absolutely no morals here, 18+ mdni, illegal acts (abduction, murder, physical abuse, stalking, trafficking, financial crimes, dirty politics, corruption), suggestive/nsfw scenes, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, smoking, drugs, alcohol

a/n: couldn't have done this without @eightmakesonebraincell's and @chronicvagabonds' validation lmao also tribute to tite kubo for coming up with the juiciest dialogues, some of which i quoted here

Hongjoong

The Manipulator

hongjoong always knew he had leadership skills

from being the team leader whenever he played games as a young child, to growing up and eventually influencing people

he was often told that he has a certain way of pulling people’s attention and leave something stirring inside them with his words

so it is no surprise that hongjoong is where he is today. a renowned businessman, philanthropist and… politician

hongjoong adjusts the sleeves of his shirt and glances at you from the mirror

you are standing behind him, holding his coat for him. he wears it with a proud smile and holds his chin high

“tonight is very important. for me. for this country.”

he goes on about how there will be people from all over the country

people who are the foundation of this nation. people who care about the future of this world

and if you weren’t so blinded by the adoration you have for this man you would have called him delusional

but the fact is that you are deluded by him. hongjoong has the ability to cast a spell with his words

he feeds his supporters the lie of a better world in the near future, and they bow to him

hongjoong smiles devilishly at the thought of what entails the events of tonight

he can picture it clearly- the cheers and desperate screams of his followers as he steps on the podium

the cries of these people, as helpless as sheeps in a herd, waiting for an upright politician to save this nation

he can feel the thrill just imagining what it will be like tonight when he addresses the nation as the new face of his political party

to a common person, he would just be another man with a good heart striving for a better change

but the common person is weak, and for them… he is their salvation

they will hear his words tonight- words he has carefully crafted himself. the cues will register in their minds, and they will end up seeking him to announce their undying support and loyalty, to shower in his glory

you straighten hongjoong’s coat and smooth over his shirt, your hands unsteady with anticipation

“aren’t you happy to be right next to me when i conquer the stage tonight?” he whispers, lifting your chin up

you meet his eyes and he can see his answer there

you hope he doesn’t see the conflict in your eyes. the conflict is to be concealed in your heart, in the deepest, untouchable corner of it

you are blessed, they tell you, to be the politician’s favoured

and you are- you truly are. hongjoong loves you. he adores you

in fact… he’s almost obsessed with you

and why wouldn’t he be? you were the one who led him here

you were the one who held his hand and showed him the right path- his partner, and now his secretary

oh, how you sometimes wish you could turn back the hands of the clock and go back to when hongjoong was hopeless and thought that the world was a wretched place beyond saving

that is when you told him that the only way to run this world was to join hands with the elites of this nation- or to become one

it must be the fates that led him to where he is today

after all, isn’t he a king without a crown? a ruler without a throne?

he is a born leader and a strategist. he has always been good with his words

it’s how he earned the favour and graces of the elites and the politicians and made a place for himself- not under them, but beside them

but to stand beside those people, you have to be a little… corrupt. and morally ambiguous

the world is not run by saints, after all

“sweetheart?” he calls when he sees you are distracted

you don’t miss the warning tone in his voice. tonight, you have to be on your toes

you have to seek out willing supporters and show them that they mean the world to hongjoong and his political party

but more importantly… you need to target other politicians, find their weaknesses and if lucky, have some join hands with you

“i’m here,” you tell him and he nods firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple

“i will see you tonight,” he promises, and you know what he means

he always gets such a thrill out of playing the leader

he gets so much energy, and he has to take it out one way or another

and what better way to take it out in the form of lovemaking?

you feel warmth course through your body as he trails his finger down the middle of your chest purposely

he almost smiles maniacally as he leaves first, giving you a moment to gather your wits

you pour yourself a glass of drink- you can’t possibly do this sober

you join hongjoong as he gives his first speech- a very normal talk about how this nation is on the verge of collapse

corruption, crime, inhumanity, dirty politics? you name it

you admire his resilience, really. whatever he is talking about comes straight from his heart, and he has been talking about these issues for a long time now

you also admire his pompousness and the audacity to talk about dirty politics, when he is the face of dirty politics

you join the audience when they clap for him, your heart full of pride

there is a break where he meets with the high-profile people and asks them to consider joining hands with him

‘to make a better world for the future generations’. such inspiring words from such a young political leader

except hongjoong’s trick is that he always, always has something over them

he has a team dedicated specifically for this task- to dig dirt on his political targets so he can wield them like the blade of a guillotine over their heads

despite his evil means to climb the top, somehow, his image and reputation remains far too clean

and that is because he knows to take these actions behind the scenes, away from any eyes

a true politician, he’s been dubbed

it is about midnight when the hall almost empties, leaving only the members of your party and some new faces- people who are willing to hear him out and decide if they want to join his party

you wish you could tell them that it is a trap- hongjoong will promise that their efforts and support will lead them to something great

‘the greater good’, he always says, except these people do not know what they are getting into

they are merely sacrificial lambs, the stepping stones that will lead hongjoong closer to his utopia

they will, for the sake of loyalty, put a blindfold over their eyes. they will hold him in high reverence as he becomes their lord, their saviour

he will feed them copper pellets and claim that this is the best that they can get while he himself sits on a throne made of gold

and when they empty every last drop of whatever they have to offer- their blood, sweat and tears

hongjoong will discard them without remorse. that is who he is- a master manipulator

when you are done wrapping up the event in the deep, dark hours of the night, hongjoong finds you in your bedroom

his chest is heaving with energy that is threatening to combust from within him

he outstretches his hand and you saunter over to him

his hands are dominating when he holds you, though his kiss is soft and unrushed

until that too becomes scalding hot

he is quick to lead you to the couch where you sit on his lap, finding him painfully hard

he groans loudly and starts to unbuckle his pants, and you instantly know what he wants- you always know what he wants

he easily slides his hard length inside your warmth and groans heavily in relief, resting his head back and just letting you both stay still

you only move to rest your head against his shoulder. he can have you like this for as long as he wants

“we have a lot of new supporters tonight,” he begins, chuckling deeply, “the polls seem to be in our favour too.”

his dark curls caress your face as you snuggle against him

“we also managed to score deals with many influential politicians and businessmen tonight,” he tells you and you look at him with pride as he names them

“soon,” he begins, trailing his hands under your dress and squeezing your thighs, “soon… we will have our people in every sector- in business, healthcare, industrial, courts… we will be controlling the nation- we… we are the leaders of this nation.”

his cock twitches inside you as he finishes that sentence and you bite your lips in thought

“what are you thinking, love?” he asks, caressing your face

“i just sometimes wonder,” you begin- can you admit your bare thoughts to him?

he squeezes your thigh as a sign to go ahead

“i wonder how we got here, joong,” you admit, “you know that we are exploiting people-”

“for the greater good-”

“for the greater good, yes,” you finish, nodding and he furrows his brows in concentration

“these people are just like us. we were once slaves of this society, but now we are the leaders. and they are our slaves. but…”

“they will offer us what they have,” hongjoong replies softly, “and we will make the best out of it. isn’t that right?”

you nod. there is no more space for any more questioning

you have never like the darkness in his eyes when you question his- your- methods

all he knows is that he is right

he knows what he is doing is wrong in essence, but it is about the bigger picture- he is doing this for his nation

and you cannot expect to run a nation claiming to be a saint

the nation is run by wolves, and to make space there, you must be some sort of a predator. that is who he has become

his grip on your thighs tighten and he starts to grind your body on him

between the sounds of pleasure is the groan of pain as he spanks your thighs and remind you of your place

“all you have to do is follow me,” he breathes into your ear, trailing his lips across your cheek. “all you have to do is stay with me. together…” he thrusts hard inside you. “together, we will rule the world one day, you and i.”

you nod and he swallows your moans as he kisses you, thrusting with all his might until you both come crashing down

he takes you to the shower and you both quickly clean up and get in bed

as you watch his figure relax and succumb to sleep, you confess to him

“you are a great politician, hongjoong,” you tell him and the corners of his lips curl in a smile. “i’m just afraid of going too far with you. every day, we learn that we can get worse than we are, yet…”

“yet, it has become my addiction and my duty,” he whispers, hand finding your bare arm and caressing it. “don’t you want to rule the world?”

“you will rule the world. i will be treading on your shadow, following you closely and sharpening my teeth… but afraid.”

“afraid of what?”

“of you,” you breathe and he opens one eye

“you won’t leave me, will you?” he asks innocently, yet it is there- the warning in his tone

you are responsible for who he is today. you are an accomplice

every person he ruins to get closer to the top, you are equally responsible for it

“of course not,” you tell him, “i can’t leave you.”

hongjoong notices your choice of words

you can not leave him- you do not have a choice

he holds you close and kisses you like he means it that night

it would be such a shame if he would have to throw you away after all of this, right?

it would truly be such a shame if you are just like the others in the end- weak and helpless

since you know exactly what is going on inside hongjoong’s head, you tell him you love him like you really mean it and you let him hold you close

it may be a trap, but you don’t mind being trapped if this is where you end up every night- in his arms

your lord, your saviour

The Manipulator and the Manipulated

Seonghwa

Jekyll

park seonghwa is a man who is adored wherever he goes

be it at work- at a prestigious university as a neuroscience professor, dr. park, or at social gatherings, formal or informal

he is a man born with the best manners, the most caring and generous heart

you’ve seen him around the department as a masters student and attended a few of his classes

but you never got to interact with him personally until it’s time to choose a thesis supervisor and you learn that you have a chance with him

it’s purely because he’s amazing at what he does

your subfield matches with his specialty so it will be better if he’s your supervisor (and it’s only a bonus that the man is painfully hot so you’ll never be bored)

your professor recommends you to seonghwa and he goes over your synopsis which leaves him intrigued because coincidentally, he’s researching in molecular neuroscience as well

he gladly takes you on because he believes you both will be helping each other along the way

plus, he recognises your name- you’ve always had a different air about you (and he remembers you from somewhere else too)

he’s looking forward to working with you, that’s all

so when you arrive on your first day as his supervisee and research assistant

you catch him in his natural habitat- unaware of his surroundings, humming a tune to himself and swiping his hair hurriedly to the side with the hand that’s holding a clear solution of some sort while struggling not to drop his notes on the table that has a few microscope slides

basically, moments away from a disaster

he spots you and grunts as if asking for help and you immediately drop your bag to rush towards him, only now noticing that somehow, he’s holding his glasses by his teeth

you first take those out of his mouth and he groans in relief. “can you please help me wear my glasses? those cultures are moments away from expiring.”

“oh goodness,” you mutter and you lock eyes with him as you put on his glasses for him

and your intrusive thoughts take over because you simply cannot take how his hair is poking his eyes so you gently brush his hair out of his eyes

for a moment, time is frozen for all sorts of reasons

before seonghwa takes a deep breath and you blink, immediately getting out of his way and holding his notes for him

the notes apparently hold the readings on how much solution he needs to pour so you read it for him and consequently save him from a disaster

as soon as he is done freezing the cultures, he holds the edge of the table to save himself from slumping in relief

and you share a laugh, the ice breaking just like that

he tells you that the student assigned for taking care of the cultures had an emergency and he had to rush from another department

and he thanks you for helping him

you both move to his office to go over your thesis and he helps you create a timeline

you wrap up the meeting with a clear direction of what’s next and with a schedule of shifts where you will be assisting him

it doesn’t take long to get used to being a part of his team of five calm students with a little streak of crazy

and you suppose dr. park has an eye for people like that because you fit right in

you are all very dedicated so he seems to be at ease when you are working, though he does monitor you more closely since you’re new

you start to spend more time in the lab simply because you like how it feels there

it is like a little cocoon where you can tune out the rest of the world and work on your thesis without distractions (plus, it helps how people from your team pop in once in a while to throw some suggestions at you)

you like how it is there- neat and clean

the sound of metal against metal, glass against glass. the smell of the cleaning agent which calms you since it is something familiar now

and then there’s dr. park himself, gentle and composed, yet at times clumsy and rough which results in the room cackling with laughter

however, there’s a side to him that you only see when you’re alone with him

you’re not sure if he’s like that with everyone- he must be, right?

does he pay as much attention to everyone else as you?

perhaps, you’re delusional. that must be it

seonghwa knows you must think that, because he has not been very obvious but he has not been subtle either

it’s just that he remembers you from that time. he remembers seeing your face in his friend wooyoung’s data

wooyoung, who is an expert at singling out people like them

people like seonghwa who have a little streak of crazy in them, yet manage to be a part of the society almost seamlessly

wooyoung’s company does a good job at managing these people because they ultimately help the black market grow

seonghwa is half convinced wooyoung’s company is just a faction of the government but of course he can’t confirm that

all he knows is that he cannot act out too much and get caught

in return, he knows when someone like him is in his radar

here you are, glasses perched on the tip of your nose as you examine different slides under the microscope, muttering to yourself about the readings as your scribble them

he can’t help but notice how you always wear that one specific shade of deep red on your lips or how your hair falls in the most irresistible way in front of your face

he’s never looked at a student this way- ever- but you’re not just a student now, are you?

so when he makes his move, approaching you from behind as silently as he can

he’s not disappointed when you turn- he didn’t make a sound, yet you knew

you’re not even surprised, and that excites seonghwa to no end

“ah, dr. park,” you go casually, as if him sneaking behind you was normal behaviour. “can you approve of these hypotheses?”

seonghwa hums and stands awfully close to you, your sides brushing against each other

he purposely crowds in your personal space as he leans in to confirm the readings of the specimens on the table

“everything’s perfect,” he announces, meeting your eyes

you’re still sitting so you have to look up at him and lord. what a sight he is even from this angle. you could totally get used to it-

“what are you looking at, sweetheart?” seonghwa smirks knowingly

you have to physically struggle to maintain your composure because you are pretty sure you were gawking

“nothing, just zoned out,” you say, which isn’t a lie but not the whole truth either

he knows though. he knows the effect he has on you because he hasn’t been subtle

from the casual touches to the unnecessary (but not undeserved) praise

from the prolonged eye contact to the suggestive smirks

there is something electric between the two of you, an undeniable tension

and while you’re not one who sticks to the rules, you can’t help but wonder just why is dr. park playing with you?

“you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa leans in and searches your eyes for any signs of lies

upon finding none but gaining satisfaction from the way your lips part in surprise, he draws back

you try your best not to make things awkward for the rest of the time you’re with him

and in the following days, his advances only start becoming stronger in nature

you like the attention he gives you. you like how he always puts his hands on your shoulders and gives them a little squeeze whenever he finds you sitting

you like the way his warm breath caresses your cheek when you’re both sitting side by side inspecting a specimen

you enjoy the sound of his gentle voice as he instructs you

it’s almost as if he knows. it’s almost as if he’s asking for it

does he not know that once you become obsessed with something, you’ll try- no, you will possess it at all costs?

so one night when you’re both working at late hours, busy with wrapping up one section of your thesis

you can’t take it when seonghwa scolds you teasingly for being clumsy

“you’ve got pen on your chin,” he says and before you can take care of it, he himself scoots closer-

too close for it to be professional anymore because at this point, he can probably count the freckles on your face too-

and begins to rub at your the skin near your lips gently

he frowns when it doesn’t come off, and then he has the audacity to lick his thumb and rub your skin again

“dr. park,” you mutter, about to remind him how you are supposed to be a teacher and student

you’re not friends (despite the very friendly relationship you have developed with him)

seonghwa only hums and you can’t help but notice how he stifles a smirk as he moves his thumb to your lower lip and swipes it, all the while maintaining eye contact

you raise a brow in challenge, silently questioning why he’s still holding your chin

he leans in as if to kiss you and you stop breathing

except he tilts his head to whisper in your ear

“would you like to attend the next soul society meeting with me, love?”

to say that you freeze is an understatement

you don’t move when his lips caress your cheeks as he stays in that position

you don’t move when he purposely trails his lips along your cheek as he draws back

“what’s your classification?” you manage to ask, your voice barely a whisper

the way seonghwa smirks is something you’ll never forget

“jekyll,” he says. “nice to meet you, hyde.”

there’s a moment of silence where all you can do is stare at the man in front of you

a moment of pure static

as soon as you take off your mask and your lips curl in a smirk, it happens

you don’t know who took the first step but you’re both kissing each other

it’s rushed, passionate and desperate, the air filling with your grins and giggles and you’re only glad you’re not in the lab right now because the way seonghwa clears the table with a swipe of his hand, making the notes fall on the ground

only to lift you up and seat you there so he can kiss you better? being in the lab would have done some damage alright

between kisses, you learn how seonghwa recognised you

you ask him if he lured you here somehow, but he tells you it’s just luck that you’re here as his student right now. you don’t quite believe him though

but you let it be- if he’s jekyll, that means he’s got the brains to scheme

he tells you that he’s glad to have found his hyde because he would prefer someone else to do his dirty work for him

you agree- it’s been far too long since you’ve had an adventure, and you’ve heard about the notorious jekyll in the soul society too. you just never connected the dots

he takes you to his private lab (not before feasting on you and fucking you on that very table)

for the next few weeks, you familiarise yourself with his actual research

mind altering chemicals and drugs, anything to do with control

very illegal stuff, but the soul society funds him with whatever he needs

he can’t believe he found you- you’re perfect for him

seonghwa believes he has morals and he can be a good person

so you make the perfect partner because you can be the bad person in his stead

you’re his alter ego, the voice in his head that he never lets come out

you’re the person who not only matches his freak but helps bring it into manifestation. you are now his face

while he advances in molecular neuroscience in the world, you advance, on his behalf, in the underworld

there’s no blood on your hands- you both only produce drugs. you’re not responsible for what is done with them

you do sometimes assist in the practical work, which seonghwa avoids, because after all, he has a reputation to maintain as dr. park

no one suspects a thing. you’re just supervisor and supervisee who share a similar obsession with research

nothing to worry about

Jekyll and Hyde

Yunho

The Hunter

when you finally got to a blind date that your friend begged you to go to, you didn’t expect to meet a man who would actually catch your eye

there is something about this man, jeong yunho, that instantly pulls you in as if you really are tied by a thread

for starters, he is incredibly handsome and has a soft vibe to him that exudes warmth

his voice has a soothing quality and his mannerisms are as gentle as his gaze. his laugh is pure and he makes quite a good company

he just makes you feel comfortable and safe right away, which is kind of surprising

so when yunho tells you about himself, confirming that he is indeed a corporate lawyer at a well-known firm, you are simply in awe

you thought your friend was bluffing when she told you that she is trying to set you up with a ‘beauty with brains’

she was not lying, is all you can think now

you’re a simple school teacher, you tell yunho with a laugh

however, the man’s eyes are practically twinkling as he hears your stories about school

you’re only telling him because he insisted, and now he can’t stop appreciating your profession, saying that it’s admirable how you are able to connect with children and educate them

the conversation steers to your likes and dislikes, your preferences, and what you’re looking for in a partner

surprisingly, the two of you have a lot in common

you both have a special place in your heart for food. you both love travelling. and there are some things he does not need to say out loud

like how he’s a caring person- always making sure you’re comfortable and your bowl is full, draping his coat over your shoulders when you leave the restaurant and scour the streets for something sweet

the hand that he offers you is not suggestive and you like that (you also like how tall he is and how his hand engulfs yours almost entirely)

just two people who talk about anything and everything- that’s who you become by the end of the night

as you settle in bed later, you’re still smiling about how his eyes twinkled when he learned that you too have a thing for gaming too

you have good feelings about this person so far but there’s a feeling scratching at your heart that has you restless

it is the way his eyes darkened almost dangerously, only momentarily, when you insisted that you could get home on your own

he was a gentleman, no doubt about it, insisting that you could never be too sure these days especially with the news being so horrible lately, the crime rate spiking up dramatically in the past few months

you just did not like the idea of having a stranger accompany you all the way to your home, even if it was this gentleman- this was only your first meeting

so he made you promise to call him and let him know when you get home

and here you are. you dated him for a few months before you both decided to move in together into an apartment that suited your needs

he’s perfect in every way- attentive, responsive, caring, funny, and he gives you space when you need it

which matters the most because you value your personal space a lot

he understands the importance of personal space very well and even though you share a room, you both let each other be

you let him be when he’s gaming, and he lets you be when you’re staring at the ceiling or reading

more often though, he’ll have you sit on his lap as he games

since he’s so much bigger than you, you’ll curl on top of him to read or scroll and he’ll be focused on his game, liking your presence

it doesn’t always lead to something but when it does, it’s always fun

he has you smitten- his kisses still make you feel like it’s your first time sharing a kiss (and he’s damn good at it)

his touch lingers on your skin throughout the day and you cannot wait to be back in his arms again

it is just another night when you decide to walk and take the longer route back home because apparently yunho was going to be late and you did not want to be home alone

it gets quieter as you navigate through the streets and alleys

and when you take a turn and notice a familiar figure, you stop in your tracks

is that… not yunho? the back and the height looks pretty much the same

the man is watching a woman at the end of the street who is using her phone as if waiting for someone

the woman catches the man watching her and grows wary- you can tell even from the distance

you can tell that she is very much pretending to be on call when she starts moving

despite every cell in your body urging you to ignore this and go back home, you start to follow the man when he starts to follow the woman

you are careful to maintain a distance, cursing yourself internally for being a curious little shit who seeks thrill like there’s no tomorrow

but the woman takes a left, and the man takes a right, leaving you standing in the middle of the street, taking a few deep breaths

nothing happened, you think. you turn and start to trace your path back

and just a minute later, there’s an unmistakable sound of a woman’s scream filling the air

every hair on your body rises as your heart drops and eyes widen

you’re frozen in one spot with no idea what to do next- should you go check on the woman? see if it was the same person?

not once do you think of calling the police though

you walk back home, lost in your thoughts with the image of the man’s familiar figure branded in your mind especially since you are pretty damn sure that those were little sunflowers embroidered on the hem of the hoodie

sunflowers that you embroidered on yunho’s hoodie

when you open the door to your apartment, though, you hear the sound of the TV and yunho is sitting very casually on the couch

“ah, you’re home,” he grins and waves, just like he usually does

he’s not wearing the hoodie anymore

“i thought you were gonna be late?” you ask

“you’re late,” he counters. “why did it take you so long to get home?”

“just decided to take a walk,” you smile, ruffling his hair and planting a kiss on the top of his head before going to your room

you grab your clothes and move towards the bathroom to take a shower, and it is then that yunho’s eyes widen

“ah, babe?” he calls, his voice uncharacteristically high

when you don’t answer, he rushes towards the bathroom and finds you standing in the doorway

your eyes are fixed on the sink which is a pale shade of pink with handprints on it

yunho curses himself internally- he rushed to hide his hoodie as soon as he got home, jumped in the shower, spotted the bloody sink from when he first washed his hands and decided to make it look like he had been home for a while before cleaning the sink

only he fucking forgot

it doesn’t look as bad- it’s not a bloody red, for starters

“ah, i forgot to clean that up,” yunho awkwardly laughs, proceeding to move inside and open the tap, taking a sponge and cleaning the edges of the sink

yeah. it does not look that bad

“i accidentally spilled that red ink you have in the room- i don’t know why i got curious and messed with it.”

that’s not the colour of your ink, though, and you know it never leaves stains like these

“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, but your eyes are wider than usual. yunho notices that

he lets you shower in peace, all the while thinking if you suspect something

truth be told, he saw you when you were following him back there which is why he took another turn to mislead you

he also knows you are far too observant for your own good

he can’t lie- one of the reasons he fell for you is because of that. you are just like him

though you are free of sin unlike him, your mind is a mess

you notice too much that is not meant to be noticed. you sometimes say things that even he has not thought about. you question if human morals are an actual thing or a made up construct

is it from reading too much fiction? he thinks not

when you come out of the shower, something possesses you to move to the balcony

and that’s another thing yunho likes about you (which also scares him a little at times)

it is your intuition- which leads you to inspect the little corner where you pile up useless stuff. you can see the sleeve of his hoodie there

you pick it up and find it wet in certain spots

on its black base, you can’t tell what it is, but the sunflowers are stained a suspicious red colour, and it’s definitely not your ink

you look towards your right where yunho is standing, vigilant

there is a moment of silence before you lower the hoodie

“it really was you,” you say, unwavering

your heart is not speeding because you’re scared- it is speeding because you are right

yunho is still, contemplating how to deal with this

did he think he could hide his secret from you forever? no. was he prepared in case he gets caught? no

he just never imagined it would unfold like this

and now… will he have to hurt you if you threaten to expose him? he can’t bear to hurt a hair on your head

you bring out all the good in him. he does not know how you do that, but you make him believe that he can love with all of his heart too, just like any other person

you make him feel whole, and it would be such a shame if things fall apart now

to his surprise, you drop the hoodie back and walk towards him until there’s little distance between the two of you

you hold both of his hands in yours and look at him earnestly

“are you going to tell me what you have been up to?”

yunho is surprised at how calm your voice is and how accepting your eyes are

he sighs deeply before steering you to the couch in the living room

and then he bares his heart to you

he is a monster. that is it. he hurts people and it satisfies this ugly part of him

he does not always want to, he justifies, but sometimes, he just can’t help it

and the only reason he gets away with it is because he is not stupid and carefully chooses his victims- people who are miserable. people who have no one around them

“well then… i’m lucky to have one person in my life, right?”

yunho’s eyes widens at your response

you fulfil the criteria of being his victim- you have no one

you have no one but him- how did that happen?

he thinks back to your first date and he can’t help but feel overwhelmed

he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his head about to explode

why are you not running away from him? why are you caressing his head and holding him close?

you don’t tell him everything right away. you only ask him to trust you

so he trusts you and waits for you

he learns little bits about you- you, who do not care who yunho is, as long as he is transparent with you

you, who has a twisted sense of morality. you, who might be as bad as yunho, even worse

though, your hands are clean, you tell him sarcastically, it’s just your head that is a mess

and it’s a blessing that you two are together and can be honest about this too, right? how lucky you are to have each other

“you, without sin, are like the sun,” he tells you one night as he kisses the top of your head and holds you close

“you, even with sin, are like the sun,” you respond.

The Hunter and His Guide

Yeosang

The Mad Scientist

there is something about the innocent features of his face, the gentleness in his mannerism, the absolute ethereal aura about him

that contrasts strikingly with the pitch black (or maybe, just two shades lighter) of his soul

the man only knows how to scheme and how to take the best possible route towards his goals

the goals are all related to science

sure, he is contributing to the scientific area, doing researches no one else would do

doctor kang yeosang- a scientist and philosopher, held in high reverence in the medical field, contributing with numerous researches centering the human body

nobody needs to know exactly how he gets such extensive, solid results to support his theories

he comes off as a soft-spoken man, someone who possesses a kind heart

he is willing to overwork himself in order to make life easier for others

he is much appreciated by his peers

they don’t need to know that behind his neat and professional setup is a dark, cold space that holds his real workspace

the endless corridors lined with shelves upon shelves of jars

jars containing the human body parts within them

from the brain to the spleen, from the heart to the liver

each jar meticulously lined in an organisation such that only yeosang could close his eyes and know where to pick what he needs

each organ in the jar has a story of the human that it once was- the story that yeosang himself scribes and tucks in the safe (and in a corner of his heart)

taking it out only to read and reminiscence, or to make another addition

such as the one that he is about to make now, sauntering with an almost skipping manner, highlighting his delight in the events about to unfold

his pristine white lab coat flows behind him, a symbol of everything that he would not be doing tonight, which only adds to the irony of it all

he finds you mirroring his expressions, eyes wide with anticipation and lips curled in a stifled smile

and he can’t help but smile wider, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly as he speeds towards you so that he can finally hold you after the long day he had, tired of playing it cool in front of everyone

you are snaking your arms around his neck immediately as he bends down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, earning a surprised but pleased yelp from you

you let him have his moment, kissing him back with equal passion until he draws away and rests his forehead against your shoulder

“long day, huh?” you press your lips against his temple. “how did the presentation go?”

the presentation being at a conference of the national medical association where yeosang was the chief guest, awarded for his valuable insights to the medical world

“i sometimes wonder if i’m the only one wearing a mask,” yeosang confesses.

you know what he means

there surely must be others just like him

you can’t expect to make medical advancements while sticking to the stupid laws and regulations they have carved for you

the medical associations do not allow anyone freedom

“it’s tiring to pretend my research was simply a result of my team’s hard work,” yeosang continue, “they didn’t do batshit. i wish i could credit you instead.”

“but you can’t,” you caress his dark locks. “that would certainly raise suspicion since i’m… underqualified.”

well, that’s arguable

you may not be as good as yeosang at what you do but considering that you come from a non-medical background, yeosang would say that you are pretty close

in fact, overqualified

“i don’t think there’s anyone more qualified than you,” yeosang lifts his head to look up at you, eyes scanning your face. “you’re an expert of the human body.”

you are an expert, that is true

you did what you had to do to survive as a young girl who lost her way

you were meant to be a test subject yourself but you created your own path and proved that you were good with your hands- almost artistic

and that you could open up humans as long as you had a good knife

your skills were a bit rusty when yeosang found you in the black market

but he was thoroughly impressed and made an offer. it was an offer that you couldn’t resist

you would no longer be bound to be a slave for the rest of your life

you would be his equal. an accomplice

“but you are the mad scientist. i’m just your unofficial assistant,” you pat his cheek in answer

it’s a wonder that you’re here now, in his arms

a muffled sound interrupts your little moment

you both steer towards the big room and yeosang looks around for a moment to take in the glory of his workplace

the crisp white walls and clean tiles smelling of antiseptic, marred with red stains of blood that is dripping from the man’s limbs

the man who is currently tied to a stretcher in the middle of the room

the instruments and tools that he would be using tonight to open his test subject up are glinting with silver, ready to be used

he has chosen the perfect target- a relatively healthy, middle-aged homeless man

really, no one would care if he went missing

in fact, you were doing him a favour by putting an end to his miserable life, right?

surely, he did not wish to live without a home and the means to survive

though here he was, sedated but struggling nonetheless, as if finally having found the will to live

“ah, he created a mess,” yeosang begins, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he inspects the bruises around the man’s wrists. “i’m sorry you had to wait so long, hmm?”

it’s almost eerie, how yeosang’s voice drips with pity

but that’s what you like about him

he thinks of the greater good. he is doing all of this for the greater good

there is no personal desire to kill random human beings, no

he simply needs test subjects to study the human body, so there can be advancements in the medical world

he just can’t believe that the world does not have a cure or even a prevention for most of the diseases in this age

he has taken it upon himself to contribute to the medical world so people do not have to suffer anymore

he complains about this a lot

if people had guts, they would have done this ages ago

sometimes, he refers to the awful medical experiments done by humankind- especially on women

he is different from them, he claims

he cares about their pain- that is why he makes sure to make his subjects’ death quick and painless before he starts to conduct his experiments

it’s just too bad that he doesn’t have much time after the person passes to study certain functions of a living human

(so sometimes, he makes exceptions and asks god for forgiveness. easy peasy)

you watch yeosang with a sort of wonder and a little something that resembles fear as he caresses the man’s head in farewell

he asks the man to say his last words, to choose them carefully, to take his time and to make peace with the fact that there is no way out

the sedatives seem to have made the man somewhat placid

the test subject stops resisting to lock eyes with the doctor

he says something about the regrets he’s had in his life and how he just wants his misery and pain to end now

yeosang’s brows are furrowed in concentration as he listens to each and every word, nodding along as if he aims to fulfil every desire this man possesses

his hand is gently caressing the man’s head

when the man is done, yeosang tells him that his contribution to medical research won’t be forgotten

he looks at you to find you already staring at him with an unreadable expression

he signals you to get the job done and you inject the medicine meant to stop the man’s heart

you watch the man take his last breath, his face contorting in pain as his heart ceases to function

yeosang has already moved on from the little moment he had, putting on medical gloves and snapping them against his skin rather dramatically

“let’s get to work, shall we?”

you smile in response, following his instructions

soon, you are testing the functioning of the man’s abdominal organs with various equipment and drugs that yeosang has bought from the black market

you have to work quickly before necrosis begins and hinders you

yeosang is very careful with his methods. his hands are steady as if he has done this a thousand times already

and though he comes off as clumsy in the public eye, he is anything but here

his eyes are focused, darting between the electrodes placed on the man’s liver to the readings on the screen

it goes on like this for a while, yet another failed experiment as the liver fails to respond as desired to the electric shock and necrosis takes over

it doesn’t disappoint any of you though

yeosang has a strong vision and no amount of failed experiments is going to stop him

plus, there’s always something you learn even from failure

you begin to clean up when you notice a broken nail lying on the stretcher

you pick it up with tweezers and inspect it- it must have broken when the man was struggling to break free

yeosang catches you looking at the discoloured nail with curiosity and he hums in question

“hair and fingernails are beautiful ornaments.” you ask, “so why do they seem so baleful when they are removed?

yeosang stands beside you, pondering

“the answer is simple. they are previews of what is to come. of death.”

you look at him to find his eyes twinkling with the knowing glint of someone who’s seen it all

after you both finish recording the data of tonight’s session, yeosang is back to being the cute and clumsy person that you absolutely adore

the man is craving chicken after today’s hard work so you fulfil his wish and take him to his favourite place

you both sit across each other, drinking beer and savouring the juicy meat while talking about casual stuff- just an assistant and her boss

just two friends who met by chance and felt an instant pull towards each other

just two lovers, fated to be together and find solace in each other’s company

as if the stars have aligned for you yet again, a familiar face walks in and sits on the table next to you

you meet yeosang’s eyes and you both stifle a smile

it’s one of the potential test subjects you’ve had in your file, due for observation

and what better observation than to sit next to them in a casual setting and eavesdrop naturally?

yeosang raises his beer glass in toast and you share a knowing smile, raising your own glass in toast

just two partners in crime. that’s who you are

The Mad Scientist and his Accomplice

San

Executioner

choi san works hard during the day

he goes to the school and makes sure his students are in top shape

as their p.e. teacher and coach, he has every student’s physical status on his fingertips

he knows their strengths and their weaknesses. he also knows their desires

so if a student is not a good runner but wants to run better, he would never tell them to give up, he would personally coach them and make sure they know that their body is not the limit

they can be a good runner, a good player, a good swimmer- anything

as long as they are steadfast, they can conquer the world

so choi san is loved and respected by the students, known to be a very caring teacher

but choi san works harder at night. no one needs to know that

certainly not his colleagues who always go about how hardworking a teacher he is

when he is free from the school, he goes to his home and changes before driving to his friend’s place- a warehouse where a few of you hang out

someone programmes, another composes, another works out

just an innocent hideout that you’re all using even in your early thirties

except that you also huddle around to read the new request you receive on your app

“i am a twenty-one year old female. two years ago, the man who dated my older sister killed her, but due to lack of evidence, he did not receive the jail time he deserves. he claims that he is innocent, but ever since he got out, he’s been bothering me because he had to serve his short sentence anyway. he is threatening to kill my family and then me if i go to the cops. i am scared to leave the house because he is stalking me and i can always see him wherever i go. please help me. i won’t go to the cops anyway- they didn’t do anything then, and they will not do anything now.”

san is contemplating if he should accept this request

you look at wooyoung who is immediately weighing the pros and the cons

you look back at san who is still deep in thought and you gently rest your hand on his thigh, bringing him out of his head

“i’ll take it,” he mutters. “accept the request, y/n.”

you nod and go back to the computer to accept the request

you have a phone call conversation with the client where you set up a meeting

it’s you and wooyoung who go to meet with the respective parties. san works in the shadows

the next night, san finds you deep in thought outside, leaning against the worn out wall of the warehouse

he joins you, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans

“i know what you’re thinking,” san begins, glancing at you. “you’ve been awfully quiet since the meeting.”

you shrug in defeat. “i know i can’t change your mind.”

“it’s not going to be the same,” san refers back to the one time you all took a request from a 19 year old girl who was being bullied by her seniors

it got to a dangerous point and had you been a little late, you might have lost the girl

san lost his temper that time, though

and while he couldn’t physically harm the kids who were bullying the girl, he had them locked in a room for one night while he educated them

and funnily enough, san was scarier that night

scarier than every other time he actually wields a weapon

you asked him that night if there were any just people left in this world full of evil

“all people are evil. to believe that you are just, you must believe that someone else is more evil than you”

was his response. safe to say, the girl was living her best life now, but you saw a new side of san that night

a side you had never seen all your life, and that was saying something since you were childhood friends

“we won’t let it get to that point,” san assured, outstretching your hand and you pouted before taking it

he caressed your knuckles, his voice assertive. “i will take care of it. properly. i always do.”

“do you think i only worry about things going wrong?” you finally say out loud, the words that you want to say to him every time he goes out in the field

san, despite himself, breaks into a smile that would seem so out of character to anyone who has not known him for long

“you can’t smile your way out of this,” you sulk further, snatching your hand away and folding your arms

“baby,” san begins, trying to take your hand again but you’re not having any of it

“i’m worried you’ll get hurt. i’m worried about the pain you’re willing to go through so you can lessen the pain of others.”

san stops teasing then, mimicking your position as he leans against the wall next to you

there is a thick silence surrounding you and you wonder what wooyoung is doing inside- is he napping?

“it’s something i have to do. something only i can do. you know that, right?”

“i know,” you say, almost a whisper. “and that’s what makes this more frustrating.”

because it was originally your idea

on a summer night when you were all about to graduate, a tragedy happened in your town

a man went on a spree, killing and wounding multiple women and children for weeks

you, who knew one of the victims personally, were shocked by the act and disgusted at how lazy the police were being

it turned out that the assailant was a high-profile businessman and the police were trying to cover the case up as per the orders of their superiors

the three of you were hanging out in the warehouse, each burdened by their own train of thoughts, until you finally said it out loud

“what if we were some sort of a private service where we help the victims? especially when the police can’t?”

it was wooyoung who agreed first, and san who disagreed

it took him some convincing to finally agree, and you set rules

you were not going to kill anyone- only maim

if it’s a serial killer, you maim their hands so they can never hold a weapon again

if it’s a bully, you maim their mouth so they think before they speak

the three of you are a team, but san is the executioner

wooyoung is his eyes and feet, and you are the brains

so it is ironic how worried you are about san now, when you gave him this role

“i know that i can get hurt,” san begins, taking a deep breath. “but there is no pain as long as i keep my eyes on the balance scale.”

this time, when he outstretches his hand, you take it. he plants a sweet kiss on your knuckles

“don’t worry about me, hmm?” he tugs you closer so you can rest your head against his firm chest as he embraces you. “i can’t focus when you’re so worried.”

“i can’t help it,” you tell him. “you’ll just have to get used to it.”

san lifts your face with his thumb below your chin, his brows furrowed with concentration and worry as he looks at you

his eyes are sharp as he scans you so you smile

immediately, his body relaxes and the corners of his lips curl in a smile as he pecks your lips- once, twice

and it is about to turn into a deeper kiss when wooyoung claps loudly to get your attention

“alright, lovebirds. get inside. we have a heads-up.”

you scowl at wooyoung who smirks in response but you both immediately join the youngest inside

your client has texted to let you know that she’s about to go out so you can stalk her stalker

you and wooyoung take your equipment to the van and san prepares himself

he’ll be observing tonight, but he is prepared in case the stalker catches on

just like that, you observe the stalker for a few days, assuring your client that she is safe

you plan a trap to lure the stalker to an abandoned area where san will have a little chat with the stalker

and when the day comes, all your client has to do is threaten to call the cops on him

he comes after her and that is when san knocks him out with a punch

the stalker finds himself tied to a chair in an empty room when he opens his eyes

there is the stale smell of something resembling death in the room, and that makes the man resist

from the darkness, san emerges, clad in all black, his face covered with a mask

and his favourite weapon, the dagger, in his hand

you and wooyoung are watching from the camera embedded on his coat

you can see the glint of the dagger as he twists it dramatically in his hand

san circles around the man once as if to gauge the room

even through the camera, you can tell how thick the air must be feeling

san meets eyes with the man and removes the tape over his mouth, wincing when the man screams his lungs out in hopes that help would come

there is no help, not for miles

“who are you?” the stalker spits on the ground near san’s feet

san only shuts his eyes in mild annoyance. he is not easily riled up

“you have been found guilty of the crime of stalking. tell me… what should be your sentence?”

the man pales, fresh beads of sweat trickling down his forehead

“it will be better if you admit to your wrongdoings and give me a fair number. you don’t want to leave it in my hands.”

“what do you mean sentence?” the stalker starts struggling fiercely, almost falling off the chair. “i have already served!”

san grins under the mask, closing in like a cat and stomping on his foot, making the man let out a guttural groan of pain

he leans in to whisper in his ear

“but… that was for murder. and unfortunately, i am not charging you for murder tonight. otherwise… you would not have walked out alive.”

the man gulps loudly, meeting eyes with who has to be the person he has heard so much about in prison

most of the people in prison feared this man- the judge, they called him

the man was the judge, jury and executioner for criminals, feared more than the cops or actual prosecutors

“surely… you’re not him, are you?”

you wince at the fear in the stalker’s voice and meet wooyoung’s eyes

san never confirms if he is that. he simply finishes the job right there

the stalker’s screams are heard for quite a distance, even outside your earpieces

you shut your eyes momentarily and when you open, you can see the blood oozing out of the man’s left leg

san is wiping the dagger with the man’s own jacket as he tells him that he will never be able to stalk people again

the man screams and screams, waiting for something more, but nothing else comes

san’s job is done

he tosses a broken piece of glass near the chair for the man to free himself if he wishes to

when san comes back to the van, the air is sombre, just like after every finished request

wooyoung pats his shoulder in acknowledgement and mutters a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, which works

“they still call you the judge, huh?” wooyoung teases as he drives

“judge, jury, executioner. how scary, choi san.”

san raises a brow at your comment- he can tell what you’re referring to

you’re referring to the first time when he came back covered in blood

and the first time he realised that no matter what he did, you would never be scared of him

and that you and wooyoung would always have his back and guide him

“i think i’m only the executioner. you both are the judge and jury.”

“makes sense,” wooyoung agrees. “but the world does not need to know that.”

Judge, Jury and Executioner

Mingi

The Overseer

“the future, pitch black, upside down”

mingi dips his brush into the onyx ink, finishing writing the words on the big canvas

the canvas that is a splash of colours- red for the blood on his hands. white for the innocence he lost too soon. blue for all those nights he spent trapped with only the moon as his friend

and finally, black for the future. the future is the only uncertainty in his life

despite being a leader of a notorious gang, he can never be certain about his future. there are always people after his life

he cannot trust anyone- not one soul-

“sir,” a voice interrupts and he knows who it is instantly

even if he did not hear your voice, he knows you are the only person who would dare interrupt him in the middle of his private time-

“tea, sir. you’ve been cooped up in here for too long,” you say, placing the mug on the table

-for something as meagre as tea

mingi spares a glance in your direction, noticing how you are still dressed in your usual all-black fit

which means you have not gone to sleep yet, even though it’s well past midnight

“and what are you doing up so late?” he asks as he picks up the cup and sips it, finding it exactly to his liking. a flavour only you can nail

“watching you paint,” you confess without hesitation

because in this place, in this room, between the two of you, there may be truths hidden, but there are no secrets

mingi is amused to hear that though he does his best to hide it

“and what do you think of the painting?” he asks, allowing you to take a closer look

you smile at his permission to inspect his art and you inch closer to the painting, now standing beside your boss

you read the words on it in a whisper and cock your head in thought

“isn’t this too dark, even for you?” you question

mingi shakes his head in amusement and looks down. only you could have made this observation, having been at his side for a solid seven years now

where others would say that his paintings were too ‘colourful’ considering the kind of person he is, you still find them too dark and void of life

you’d know better, because you know mingi inside out

he first found you when he was a street thug in the process of becoming something big

all he had was his raw strength, a strategic brain, a few rusty weapons and some loyal friends

he went on to fight gang after gang, always emerging victorious and merging the losing team with a good deal- it’s how he earned respect around and gained a reputation

every other gang knew not to stand against him unless they wanted to risk losing everything they had

when he first opened his office in the darkest part of the town, he found you purely by chance

you were nearing the end of your teens- a rebellious little girl who cut ties from her family and ran away from home

at that time, you had multiple part-time jobs trying to make ends meet, hoping to find a place to live

and one fateful night, you found yourself in front of a building to deliver chicken, peering up at the light coming from the 4th floor- this must be it

although… you weren’t sure if the loud sounds coming from the floor were just men having a good time or if something had gone really, really wrong

men will be men, you thought, wanting to get the delivery done with so you could move on

only when you reached the 4th floor, you spotted men lying on the ground and clutching their limbs, blood all around

while every sane part of your brain screamed at you to pretend you saw nothing and go back, you recalled how when you received the order, they promised a big tip to the rider

you could not miss that, could you? you had to find a place to live, and you needed every penny

so you started with the men who seemed to be unconscious. you took any cash they had, being careful to hide your face in the hoodie

you moved to the office, hearing a crashing sound and flinching

you made quick work of grabbing more cash from the thugs- they had to be thugs

they all had guns, for fuck’s sake

you went into one of the neater rooms and placed the bags of fried chicken there

and you froze when a burly man made his way inside, wiping blood from the edge of his mouth

“ah… you must be song’s girl, eh?” he snickered, scanning you up and down

“i- i’m delivering chicken,” you pointed at the table. “i’ll be on my way then-”

“not so quick,” his gaze darkened

instinctively, you grabbed the nearest object, which so happened to be a mug and chucked it at the man, successfully hitting his head

he clutched his head in pain and you made a dash outside, bumping into another man

the tall man seemed mostly unscathed save for a bruise on his cheek

he held your wrists to steady you and his eyes darted in the man’s direction who was clutching his head no more

“oi, song!” the burly man called. “teach your girl some manners, will you?”

the man called song pushed you to the side and a gunfight ensued

you took shelter behind a shelf, observing how the taller man successfully shot his every target

when he thought he was done- and was out of bullets, he looked in your direction and tsked loudly

you were about to come out of the shadows when you noticed one of the supposedly unconscious men take aim of song’s head

your eyes widened and almost instinctively, you grabbed a heavy metal object from the shelf and rushed to the man who was targeting your saviour

to say that mingi was surprised to see a young girl save him from his enemy by nearly crushing the man’s skull?

he knew you were something special right away

you both stared at each other for a long time before he told you to go back to his office, lock the door and not come out until he comes back

he was done sooner than you thought, and while his men cleaned his mess, he found you in his room, sitting rather calmly

“so you’re the delivery girl,” he narrowed his eyes

“i hope the chicken is still warm,” you responded. “if you can just pay me so i can leave-”

“why did you do that earlier?” he asked, voice low and rough that sent shivers up your spine

“i don’t know,” you answered truthfully

mingi paid you more than extra that night and told you to come next time they place an order

the next time would turn out to be the last time you would ever work a part-time job

mingi offered you a place in his gang, and you took it

you are still not sure what your position in this gang is though- they smuggle drugs but keep you away from the work, so what are you doing here?

personal assistant? chef? manager? all of these?

sometimes, you are accompanying wooyoung in the field- the gang now has an official base and a few legal businesses

sometimes, you stay in the kitchen with seonghwa and wooyoung to cook

other times, you sit with yunho and hongjoong to plan and offer your opinion on their strategic takes

you aren’t sure if you are qualified for that- you probably aren’t

somehow, though, the gang members respect you for whoever you are

you are the light in their dark life, they joke. you are someone’s friend now, sibling to some, secretkeeper for others

but you still aren’t sure what you are to mingi

whenever you ask him why he took you in, mingi always responds with something different

“you were clever grabbing all that money from our enemies”

“you saved me- though i must say i could have handled it”

“you looked like a lost cat”

“you didn’t report us”- excuses, all of them

truth be told, mingi has no idea what you are to him either

he has a certain fondness for you that he has for no one else. of course, it didn’t happen instantly

he took you in because he realised you had a strategic mind and he could really use that

he insisted the office needed a ‘feminine touch’ even though it came in the form of a cranky teen who wouldn’t stop asking questions

but somehow, the two of you formed an unbreakable bond

he finds solace just being with you in one room, even in complete silence

he loves to hear you talk, even though you mostly question his morals

because he is not a good person, you found out

song mingi is not conventionally good. he is a man of principles, but he does not have the best morals

despite all that, you learned a lot from him. the world is a harsh place, and only he can protect you

he learned a lot from you too. the world is a harsh place, and only you are his safe space

when at times things get stressful, he comes to seek you. he finds you in the shared residence and sits with you

if he is feeling down, you will have him lay his head in your lap. you will caress his head and let him be

if he wants to talk, he will. otherwise, he will watch you for a long time until he falls asleep, unguarded

when he gets tired, he will seek your arms. all he has to do is show up and you will know what to do

you will drop whatever you are doing and spread your arms

it is his home at this point. that’s how things are like

are you in a relationship? you don’t know

all you know is that song mingi is the most important person in your life

it doesn’t matter if he lives life the way he does

it doesn’t affect you anymore- the blood on his hands or the chaos in his mind

it doesn’t bother you because you know his heart, and that is all that matters

so standing in his private space right next to him, inspecting his painting with a critical eye, you tell him that the painting is not him

he tells you to pick a colour and you reach out for a box, making him chuckle

“really?” he asks

“the future may seem black, but…” you begin. “it doesn’t feel so dark when i’m with you.”

mingi takes a deep breath at your words. you always get him like this, and he is not sure if he can restrain himself anymore

your heart aches when you see him curl his fists, a sign that he is holding back some words or an action

“tell me what you’re thinking,” you request, though it registers like a command in the gang leader’s brain

“i’m thinking that i never should have given you this life.”

you shake your head at that- how many times has he voiced out that he wished you had lived a better, normal life, away from the clutches of the underworld?

“no, you’re thinking something else too,” you comment

“i’m thinking that i want you to stay here, with me, forever,” he responds

you nod in approval. “i’m right here. i’m not going anywhere.”

“you could get hurt,” mingi says, taking a step closer and closing the gap between your bodies

“i am a big girl now, mingi,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist and hearing his erratic heartbeat

his arms are still by his sides for a moment before he embraces you

“i’m old now, in fact. how much longer will you keep me waiting?”

mingi grows stiff at your question. so you know

of course you do

mingi cups your face and locks eyes with you

“i won’t break,” you promise

“i know,” he smiles, pecking your forehead. “i’m afraid you will break me.”

your lips curl in a smile and he rests his forehead against yours

“are you sure about your choice?”

“yes,” you breathe. “i want you. i’m yours.”

mingi draws back

“i meant your choice of colour,” he tilts his head in the direction of the painting and the box of paint you picked for him

“of course you did,” you laugh at his attempt to distract you

mingi leans in to close the distance between your lips

it is soft and unrushed. you both have waited for the right moment, the right time for years and everything feels absolutely right at this moment

you go first, asking him to join you in your bedroom and he agrees

he assesses the canvas once again

as a finishing touch, he sprays a final splash of yellow- the colour you picked for him

yellow for hope, for all the light in his dark world

The Overseer and his Shelter

Wooyoung

The Maniac

it has always been a cat and mouse game with you and wooyoung

you chase after each other, running in circles with no start or end

it’s almost as if you both have sworn to keep your eyes glued on each other, watching every move, anticipating what is next

someone’s lips curls up in a failed attempt to restrain a smile- a smile that drips with mischief and mockery

someone else’s eyes glint with threat and promise that this is not over, their fists curled in anger

you chase after each other like cat and mouse

only…you’re not sure who is the cat and who is the mouse

sometimes, it is you chasing after wooyoung

jung wooyoung, the son of one of the richest businessmen in town

a privileged piece of shit who is not right in the mind

a crazy bastard who has made it his life’s mission to not only drive you to the edge of the cliff but to push you and laugh in victory as you fall

he takes advantage of you being a criminal investigator

some people jest that they can’t tell if wooyoung means to ruin your career or lead you to your promotion

with the amount of times wooyoung has gotten himself in trouble (and gotten away with it) he keeps your desk full of cases that you spend most nights investigating

while he keeps your hands full, what frustrates you to no end is that he almost always gets away with his crimes only because of his social standing and his connections

he gets away with petty crimes. he gets away with bloody fights that could very well have him spend one night in the station, cuffed

he gets away with major crimes such as money laundering and tax evasion

no matter how much you try to investigate, you cannot

there are the warnings of your superiors who threaten to fire you because this is not your worry

and even if you do start to investigate, wooyoung’s team is quick to wipe any evidence of said crimes

you’re pretty sure that at this point, he might be hiding a body somewhere in his house

you wouldn’t be surprised. man once set his enemy’s mansion on fire

to make things worse, he got away with it- even when he was the only one grinning and playing with a lighter on his way out

while the others scrambled like mice, he sauntered in style

he gets away with anything

you reputation at the station is already in shambles because of it

they call you his shadow at this point, considering how you are always following him

the truth is, you just want to wipe the shitty grin off his face for once

you want him to suffer defeat when you finally put him behind bars

you want him to chase after you like you chase after him

you might come off as delusional, but you’re half convinced that whatever wooyoung does is on purpose at this point- to get your attention

it wasn’t always like this, you and wooyoung

it started with a simple fight that broke out at a party where all the high-profile people were

someone was stupid enough to call the police- but you were more stupid because you went ahead and handcuffed wooyoung

you told him that you couldn’t waste this opportunity because you were investigating another case related to his father’s company anyway

and he? he laughed out loud like a maniac

you soon learned why, going home with the sound of your superiors scolding you still ringing in your ears

here you are, a few years and a lot of chasing each other later

except… you get something out of the chasing now

all he has to do is corner you. all he has to do is rile you up as he tells you why you lost this game yet again

with his burning gaze and honey voice, he pins you to the spot

with his fingers tracing the curves of your face, he tells you how much he loves you chasing after him

as if he’s all that you ever think about. he might be right

“don’t you think we’re meant for each other?” wooyoung questions almost innocently, licking his lips subconsciously as he trails his finger down the curve of your neck until he reaches the first button of your shirt

“don’t think too highly of yourself, wooyoung,” you respond, your chest rising and falling in controlled breaths

you can not let him know the effect he has on you

however, wooyoung doesn’t need any sort of confirmation

you can try to keep your gaze steel all you want. you can attempt to sound sure and fake indifference, but the fact is that wooyoung knows

all he has to do is take another step forward and fill the gap between you two

his warm breath caresses your face and you gulp despite yourself

he watches you intently and squeezes your neck just a bit, causing you to part your lips for air and then he brushes the tip of his nose against yours

his other hand is slowly but surely unbuckling the belt of your pants and taking it off

you can only thank god in an ashamed relief that you’re in a private space- the space being one of the empty rooms in a random building on a random street because you had been tailing wooyoung

(at least the door is locked)

wooyoung brushes his lips against yours as your pants fall on the ground and pool on your feet

the sound that makes has heat rushing to your face- this should not be happening

you are a fucking detective and wooyoung is your target

but you can’t complain when his fingertips dance along your hip bones

all he has to do is swipe his fingers up your panties

upon finding them soaked (as usual), he smirks and you smack his chest

he catches your fist in his hand, though

“all for me?” he asks

in a matter of seconds, your lips are upon each other, tongues in each other’s mouth as you wrap your legs around him

he picks you up effortlessly and places you on a very dusty table

he gets rid of his clothes all the while kissing you expertly, aiming to please you, dominate you

he sucks on your lips, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on

and when he finally takes off all your garments, he has more places he can get his mouth on

“admit it, detective,” he breathes against your clit. “you’re obsessed with me.”

“get to work before i cuff you and fuck your brains out, wooyoung.”

wooyoung’s laugh echoes in the room as he recalls that night- a night he is sure he can never forget

“does that mean i get to experience that again if i stop now?”

you are moments away from your high- how dare he ask if he can stop?

he gets the hint and gets to work, and he makes sure he does a good job, licking and sucking at your clit until you’re screaming

for bonus points, he dives his cock inside right after and stays still as he starts to kiss you eagerly

this time, you’re the one who loses to him and lets him take control

you let him thrust into you. you let him praise you and humiliate you to no end

truth be told, you’re addicted to him. there is no going back from here

wooyoung knows how to use his tongue and he whispers sweet nothings

he is also surprisingly good at aftercare, even though you don’t accept it from him

well, you try not to, but he is insistent

he takes you home and he invites himself in

you go to the shower and he goes to your room to admire the effort you put into bringing him down

loads of files and a board full of his ‘accomplishments’ staring back at him- nothing he doesn’t know

“you think your daddy will help you if i start to investigate the slush fund you have?”

“which one?” is his response, and he grins widely as you gape at him

he can practically see the gears in your head turning and he adores that

it is a cat and mouse game after all. he must give you something so you keep coming after him

(and you must give him something so he keeps finding you too)

while you’re still processing what he just implied, your phone rings

you flinch when you pick it up, getting an earful from your team leader once again, because where were you?

you were supposed to tail wooyoung to confirm that he is meeting up with a notorious gang member who does his dirty work

the case you’re team is on these days is targeting the gang, and yet again… wooyoung is involved

so what the hell were you doing, your superior asks

“jung wooyoung did not meet up with the gang leader,” you say into the phone, your eyes fixed on wooyoung

wooyoung has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face

“and how do you know that? i thought you lost the tail-”

“yes, i did lose the tail,” you bite your lips in thought- you can’t tell your team leader that wooyoung has a strong alibi this time-

but wooyoung goes ahead and snatches your phone from you

“detective lee,” wooyoung greets and you mutter a string of curses under your breath

you watch wooyoung charm his way through the matter

telling the detective that he was in a tight spot because of the gang they are investigating

and how it is a shame that a ‘civilised’ person such as himself is being linked to thugs

he tells him that he almost got attacked but you saved him, and you hid him in an abandoned building, being wise enough not to blow your cover

you can’t tell how he does it, but by the end of the call, your team leader is fully convinced that you did a good job today and he even praises you when you take the phone back

when you end the call, you glare at wooyoung

“what?” he shrugs. “i needed an alibi.”

“is that why you took me to the building to fuck me? because you needed an alibi?”

wooyoung watches you with mild curiosity

“did you think it meant something else?” he asks

it would have hurt if he really meant it, but that’s the thing

you both know he doesn’t mean what he says, especially about whatever is going on between you two

he has risked his position and even his life far too many times just to get you alone and fuck you

so you only smile and shake your head in response before telling him to fuck off and get out of your sight

(and he does. not before a second round)

when he leaves, you watch his car disappear from the window before going to the board and updating everything you got out of him tonight

everything about his business and his crimes. everything to make your case on him stronger

it’s truly a wonder how much you can get out of fucking someone right and you’re positive you can see the end of this case now

though… you’re not sure if you will ever take this to court. but that’s something you’ll worry about later

for now, you will follow him like a cat follows a mouse

and he will chase after you like a cat chases after a mouse

The Maniac and his Shadow

Jongho

The Tyrant

it is always a little too cold in the building for your liking

the building that is choi enterprises, located at the heart of the city, standing tall with numerous floors, laden in luxury

it is a workplace and home to some of the people in this city and a symbol of something untouchable to the others

as you enter the building, accompanied by your secretaries and a guard, you instantly feel the temperature drop despite the warm tones of the interior

the employees that greet you may have smiles on their faces but it’s all an act. you can tell, because you know what a genuine smile looks like

choi enterprises somehow always manages to keep the most calculating people to themselves. it might be why the company has flourished so much in such a short period of time

“to the private elevators, miss,” a man says and you recognise him as one of the ceo’s personal staff

you follow him and tug your jacket closer, wishing you had worn it instead of draping it over your shoulders

you catch your reflection on the golden glossy door of the elevator and straighten, lifting your chin up

you will not be pushed into submission, you repeat for the umpteenth time

however, things are not in your favour this time

in this never ending game of business rivalry, you and choi jongho have never seen eye to eye. you always stand in opposition, defensive or offensive

sometimes, you manage to outsmart him while making a new business deal or scoring a new project. other times, he is a few steps ahead and wins the game

except when you lose, somehow, the loss is much greater and a bit personal

your company always suffers more when you lose, which is why this little meeting you are going to have with jongho is no less than a negotiation- a war, if you must

sometimes, you wonder if jongho has a personal grudge against you. these meaningless battles start to seem like an excuse to see you

if not, then why is jongho looking like he just won the lottery at the sight of you?

“as beautiful as ever,” he says, scanning your figure slowly

you don’t move an inch, pretending those words don’t affect you

the secretaries move to another room, leaving you and jongho alone

jongho gets up from his chair and moves to the middle of the room, motioning you to take a seat

you watch as he pours a drink for you, his muscles flexing through the coat he’s wearing

you take the drink- you need something to calm your nerves

“i suppose the odds are not in your favour, considering you found your way back here”

an allusion to the time he said that you were meant to find your way back here again and again, that you were just a lost kitten and he was your master, controlling you

at that time, you thought he meant to spite you, but time after time, he proved himself right

you always find your way here, always as the opposition. this time, though… you won’t bend

“if the odds are in your favour,” you begin experimentally, downing the drink in one gulp and then pouring one for jongho. “would you like me to join hands with you?”

now this is new- jongho’s eyes slightly widen at your remark

“ah… how the tables have turned,” jongho started to chuckle lowly

you let him be for a moment, scoffing internally

jongho had earned the right title over the years since he stepped up as ceo of his father’s company

a monster of capitalism

known to be the owner of many questionable businesses, borderline illegal, evading taxes and having slush funds unashamedly, heavily involved in money laundering- the list goes on and on

a true financial villain- a true monster, yet… being able to get away with everything, unscathed. that’s who jongho is

he has bribed every soul who would dare go against him. and those who do not take the bribe? he makes sure they kneel

and you… you’re pretty close to being his next target- he did say you would look pretty on your knees for him

“is business not going well?” he asks, faking innocence. he knows

you are a rival company- seo enterprises. everything that jongho’s company is, but… more legal

your forefathers were once partners, and they created their independent companies without a hint of rivalry

they were the definition of true brothers (and partners in crime)

the difference between the values of your company came when you and jongho stepped up as ceo

you had made it your life’s mission for your company to earn a good reputation and moral image, while jongho seemed to have made it his life’s mission to simply conquer the world, no matter what or who the stepping stone is

“business is well,” you narrow your eyes at him. “it’s about the land in ilsan.”

jongho doesn’t seem surprised to hear that. it is always like this- he knows what moves you will make

“ah, the one where we are about to construct a gallery?” jongho asks

“we?” you repeat. “that land is a shared property. why have you not consulted us before going ahead and signing the documents? how could you begin this project without us-”

“the other option is selling it to the government because of the redevelopment project,” jongho leans forward, “and you know how much i despise the government getting their grubby hands on what’s mine”

you know he is right, and he knows that you are not here to argue about why he started this project without telling you

jongho relaxes back, considering all his options before deciding to strike. “you’re worried about your involvement in that project, is that right?”

“well,” you mirror his position, “i would like to keep my reputation clean unlike yours.”

he chuckles at that, proud of his deeds. “yeah, well, that’s going to be hard, sweetheart. that gallery is going to be an optimum location for storing money.”

you know what he means. the gallery is going to display priceless pieces of arts. those pieces are but a means of illegal transactions for the elites

you swallow your anger, taking a deep breath. “i’d like to have my shares back, then. before construction starts.”

“uh…” jongho gets up, fixing his clothes. “you’re going to have to convince me for that.”

“please,” you scoff, but he only shakes his head, ignoring that because he knows this ‘please’ was wholly sarcastic

“try harder,” he smiles mockingly before turning his back to you and moving to the window, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants and staring down at the city

a tyrant- that’s who he is

he expects to get the maximum output out of anything he set his eyes on, no matter the cost- money or lives

you join him by the window, pointing at a few spots. “that’s where people held protests against your company last week,” you tell him. “apparently, you have been exploiting labourers too.”

“that’s what they think,” he spits. “i gave them more than they deserve. they just never learn to accept. they never get pleased.”

you look at jongho- he sounds like he is saying the truth. he has the art of sounding like a victim at times, thus justifying his actions

“doesn’t all that venom in your heart make you dizzy?”

jongho glances at you, his lips threatening to curl into a smile at your words

“doesn’t it get tiring, pretending to be moral?” jongho asks, trying to read your guarded eyes

“there’s no pretending. i never claimed that i was full of morals, mr. choi,” you sigh. “i just wish for my business to have a legal foundation.”

“and it will, you don’t have to worry,” he responds, curling a section of your hair that had been resting on your shoulder in his fingers

you don’t flinch at his touch. you’ve known him since the beginning, and nothing he does fazes you anymore- except when he leans closer experimentally, locking eyes with you and trying to read you

“you will get your shares, but you will have to convince me,” he says, voice barely above a whisper

it is a challenge. it is always a challenge with choi jongho

“why are you so obsessed with me?” you laugh this time, swatting his hand away

he joins, and everything almost seems normal for a moment- just two friends with too many inside jokes, except… it only lasts for a moment

“how can i convince you?” you ask, sombre

“you know what i want from you, y/n,” he replies in a similar tone

he wants a true partnership, except his idea of a partnership is where you bend to his will (and so is yours)

“don’t turn this into a legal battle, jongho,” you warn, “i would hate to summon you to court.”

“don’t turn this into a petty rivalry,” he counters, “you will benefit from this project. you reputation won’t be harmed.”

“i don’t want my name next to yours,” you tell him in all honesty and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes

“that is not possible,” jongho declares. “our companies are not mentioned without each other. we are fated like that, you and i.”

that is true. no one dares to touch the two of you, so you two have always been alone

there is no one you both can trust. there is no one next to you

except the two of you are always together, wherever you go, be it business parties, political dinners, or high-profile events

you can only trust each other, because despite knowing everything about each other’s business, despite being at war with each other

you are always honest with each other- honest about your intentions and purpose

there is no one next to you because you two are always together, leaving no space for someone else

do you hate that? not really. does he hate that? he’s not sure

“you can buy my shares from me,” you start, “or you can shift them elsewhere. i can handle whatever loss comes with that.”

“or… you can let it be and use the revenue for something ‘moral’,” he taunts and silence envelopes the room

“no matter how much you try to maintain a clean image,” he starts, gentler this time, “you cannot undo the damage your forefathers have done to your company, y/n. seo enterprises will always be known as the company that exploited the weak to get to the top.”

you don’t wince at that, though your heart aches to hear that

“just like your company. except you are continuing in their footsteps,” you say

jongho nods, watching how your shoulders are curling inwards

“you are not weak, y/n, stand straight,” he almost scolds, taking you by surprise

you find yourself straightening at his words, confused to see how conflicted he looks

“you are the strongest person i know,” he tells you, and he means it. “i just don’t get why you are atoning for their sins.”

“i don’t know either,” you smile in defeat. “i just am.”

“well, if you ever get tired,” he gently places his hands over your shoulders, “i am here for you. you can lean on me.”

you lock eyes with him, scanning his face. his smile seems genuine

the way he kisses your forehead makes your heart melt

when he embraces you, you lean on him physically

and you almost give in, except…

“i can lean on you, huh?” you say, soaking in the warmth of his body, taking as much as you can before you continue

“so you can end my career, merge our companies and crown yourself king?”

you look up at him, finding him smirking

just like you thought

“not a chance, choi jongho.”

“how can you see right through me every time, y/n?” he laughs loudly as you smack his chest and move towards the sofa to grab your purse

“i’m the only person who knows who you are,” you tell him. “you can own the world, but you will never own me.”

his eyes glint almost dangerously

“challenge accepted,” he says

you mockingly wave goodbye before exiting the room

choi jongho never changes, and neither do you

but somehow… it gets more addicting and electrifying to be with him, to compete with him and to stand with him

even though he is a tyrant, and you are everything that he is not

The Tyrant and His Defiant Ally

#chron <3 #as always i love to see your reblog #makes having written that fic worthwhile #also really fun to reply back to you hehe #basically im smooching you #fic: ateez as villains #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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dixonsstinkysock · 3 days ago

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ANOTHER RANDOM THINGGG

11/5/24 Teen!Daryl Dixon x Teen!Reader

“You ever think we’re gonna make it out?”

“Out…of where?”

“Out of this shithole…I think we could. Been saving up cash, you got your dads truck…we could leave and forget about this place.”

Daryl turns his head to look at you, the two of you laying on the roof of the abandoned gas station. You feel his eyes on you and turn to look at him, taking in his expression.

“What?” You fully turn your body to face him completely, wondering what that look is on his face. “You think we couldn’t?”

“You could…”

…What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why would he not want to come with you? Get away from that abusive father and druggie brother of his. It’s possible to just get up and leave…if you had all the essential parts of your plan.

1. You have the cash, enough to get you two somewhere and start a new life.

2. The bravery to actually do something like this.

3. You needed a vehicle. Daryl’s got that covered unless he doesn’t want to go…

“We could.” Daryl shakes his head and looks away..up at the stars, something’s obviously on his mind. You shouldn’t pry considering he has a tendency to blow up on people. He doesn’t mean it…it’s all he knows.

“Nah…can’t leave my family here—“

“What?! Can’t leave your family?? Daryl are you kidding me?!”

“I ain’t arguin’ with you ‘bout this…it ain’t happenin’!”

Theres only silence for a few moments, the only sounds are the chilly night air and you and Daryl’s breathing. You lay back down, front facing the stars again, trying to understand why he wouldn’t want to leave.

The feeling of slightly chapped lips going from your hand down to your arm is enough to startle you out of your thoughts. Turning to see the culprit, you bring your hand to his hair, brushing it away from his face. You look into each other’s eyes for what feels like a lifetime, you always get lost in them, confused on how such a pretty man can be cursed with such an ugly life.

“I love you…” He didn’t say those words often, not used to hearing them at all…You didn’t mind how much he said them, he showed it, and that’s all you needed.

URGH I was gonna finish this but i don’t know how so. Sorry!

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lukalnst · 2 days ago

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Hi, could you write Luka from ALNST with a reader he absolutely loves to “discreetly” follow around during their anakt garden days ? Like he has a crush on them and badly wants to become closer but he sucks so much at relationships that the reader is the one that ends up speaking with him first 🫠

ENAMORED!LUKA X READER

Contains: Luka is whipped for reader, gn!reader, Luka is bad at socializing,,, but he's trying his best!!!, fluff

Luka loved to watch you.

It sounded weird to think about it, no? He couldn't help but hide in places where he thought you wouldn't find him just to observe your every movement. He liked to see you talking with other people, and he liked to see how you'd react to what they had to say, amongst other things.

Oddly enough, you stood up from the rest to him. He felt a weird sense of love for you, but it wasn't exactly that — It felt much stronger than love itself. Maybe it was an obsession? He didn't exactly experience what love really was, so he guessed it made sense for him not to know what it was.

Maybe you could show him what it was, though.

But, as much as he loved to think about you and imagine little scenarios about you in his head, he could never actually approach you. It was quite irritating, he had to admit.

He could imagine himself doing many other things, but talking to you wasn't one of them. As much as he tried to, he simply couldn't.

Perhaps it wasn't meant to be. Some people are better left off in your head. Some things are better left off in your imagination, no?

... That was what he thought, and that was what he tried to convince himself.

Luckily for Luka, you had noticed him staring at you from behind a tree that was only a few meters away from you. You were a bit confused at first. Did he really think you couldn't see him? He was basically peeking from behind the tree.

When he realized that you were taking a few steps closer towards the tree, he pretended to be doing something else. You surely wouldn't notice, his plan was perfect.

... Or so he thought.

"Hey... uhm... Do you want to be friends?" You gently asked as you observed him trying to act as if he wasn't just looking at you intently from a place which he didn't even bother hiding properly.

Luka turned around and was hesitant to reply. He didn't want to seem like someone who was desperate. "... I guess. My name is Luka, yours?" He questioned.

As you said your name, he had to pretend as if he didn't hear other people saying it repeatedly when talking to you. "That's a nice name. I'm glad to meet you," he smiled at you. It took basically everything in him to not start smiling stupidly. You had talked to him, you really had —

"Luka! Do you wanna play with me?" You gently tugged at his arm. His eyes were slightly open, and a smile made its way towards his lips. He simply tried to keep his act up as if it wasn't one of the best days of his life.

"Yes, I'd love to..." He gently murmured.

...

Something that you didn't have to worry about was about Luka finding another best friend. He seemed to only enjoy spending time with you, and he made it known.

Whenever other people tried to talk to him, he just glared at them and placed you in front of them, as a weird way to say, 'I don't want anyone else other than them'.

Other people thought he was odd, but he had grown into your best friend. Someone who you could easily rely on.

Someone who would love you no matter what.

#alien stage x reader #alnst #alnst x reader #fluff #luka x reader #alnst luka x reader #alnst luka #alien stage luka #alien stage #luka alien stage #luka alien stage x reader

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sierrale8ne · 3 days ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER EIGHT

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings substance use, infidelity, sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! good morningggg ;) song for this chapter is BPW by jasmine sullivan, you’ll know when to play it!

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

The lights are low in the studio this evening, as per usual whenever I’m here. I’m not the type to have multiple people in my space, usually it’s just me, Kaylee, and my producer. But tonight I get to be wonderfully distracted by Page Madison Bueckers.

Her phone is propped up on a bottle of Patron, some audio playing from it as she makes a TikTok in front of me. I’m fighting a laugh in the midst of rolling a blunt, because everything they say about her lack of rhythm seems to be true.

“Oh you’re annoying.” She laughs, picking up on my obvious amusement and mushing my face with her fingers.

“Hips don’t lie.” I giggle. “C’mon, no way you thought I wasn’t gon’ make fun of you.”

“You a bully. Ion know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m just so pretty.” I reply jokingly.

Paige rolls her eyes at my statement, retaking her original seat in the rolling chair next to mine and shoving her phone in the pocket of her black Essentials sweatshorts.

If there’s any color I love on Paige, it’s definitely black. The darkness perfectly accentuates the tan of her skin and the bright blond of her hair and the blue of her eyes. She’s been wearing it more lately. Which I find odd, considering the blazing heat in California this summer.

I asked her to be here. No other reason than being alone in the studio is usually a recipe for disaster. She took up my offer gratefully, almost too grateful but I was probably overthinking it.

“You gonna let me hear some unreleased shit, or what?” Paige asked. Her chair slides closer to mine until our arms are touching. Our noses are close too, my eyes boring into hers. Purple rimmed wide framed glasses sit on her nose, making them look bigger.

I look away quickly, leaning towards the monitor in front of me. “I can, yeah.” I tell her, setting the blunt on the rolling tray. “If you leak it tho’ I’d have to kill you.” I joke as my eyes pass through all the possible unreleased and unfinished songs on the file.

I watch her take the substance into her own hands, packing and rolling it in places I didn’t get to reach yet. I would normally be pissed off, watching someone else roll my blunt as if I couldn’t do it myself. But the way her tongue darts out to lick it sealed, pretty and pink and soft, then her perfect fucking face has me mesmerized.

“Who taught you how to roll?” I laugh, honestly a bit shocked.

“I was in college for five years, you think I didn’t learn?” Paige looks back at me, fingers still sealing it like a second nature.

“You probably shouldn’t tell people you were in school for that long.” I snide and her elbow meets my ribs.

I take it from her hands gracefully when she finishes, putting it between my slightly chapped lips. Paige takes the lighter, striking the flame a few times until it lights and bringing the flame to the end of the blunt. Her blues are basically eating up my soul, the tip of her tongue peaking out slightly in concentration until I take the first hit.

The weed fills my lungs fast, and I take the blunt away from my lips, smoke clouding the air. Paige was still in season, and due to her recent shooting outbursts, subject to multiple rounds of drug testing. She wasn’t smoking with me tonight, rather taking a few shots from the liquor not too far away.

I laugh at the thought, “they really been testing you?”

She nods, the light falling from her hands and back onto the desk. She’s so close, I can smell every note of her cologne. Lavender, some cedarwood.

“Literally this morning. As soon as I stepped off the court last night I got an email saying I got an appointment in the morning.” She chuckled.

To say Paige had been on a tear this month would be an understatement. 20 point games, double-doubles, off of crazy efficiency too. She’s shooting 57% from the field and 42% from three, but last night she shot almost perfect, literally, 10/10 on her first shots 13/15 on the game.

For someone who claimed to not be a big basketball fan, she has me watching and remembering her stats like i’ve been doing it for years.

“Okay, music.” She starts. “If you had to make a collab album with one artist, who would it be?”

I sit back and bit for her question, but the answer really wasn’t too difficult. “Frank Ocean, easily.”

“Really? I thought you’d say Drake or sum.” She chuckles.

“Him too!” I responded. “But Frank doesn’t make music with just anybody. If I get that, I’ll know I made.” I shrug. It’s a dream that’s a bit out of touch, he hasn’t put out music in years, but one can wish.

“Imma manifest that Frank feature for you, angel.” She smiles. Her hand reaches to brush my hair out of my line of sight before gesturing with it towards the monitor, “which one can I hear?”

I skim past all the music loaded up on the screen before clicking on a file, all the colorful waves pop up individually. The vocals, ad-libs, all the snares and drums. To me, it’s normal. I wasn’t a producer but after making music for so long, the technicalities become less and less overwhelming and more interesting.

“Wow.” Paige breathes.

“It’s a lot, I know.”

“Is it finished?” She asks me. I nod, shaking my hand side to side as to non verbally tell her ‘sorta’. The title reads BPW and yes it pretty much is finished, but I’m a perfectionist and I feel like most songs can always have more.

“You wanna hear it?” I question while looking her way. I take another drag from the blunt. “It’s kinda nasty tho’. The label only let me put two freaky songs on there, so this one got pushed back.”

“Only? You’re a freak, bro.” Paige replies. “Lemme hear it.”

The instrumental echos first when I hit play. Violin and bass, and then I remember I tried to avoid the piano for this song since most of my discography already is over taken by it. The intro is long, when I look over at Paige and she’s listening intently, I start to get nervous. “It’s still missing some thi—”

Her finger meets my lips, indirectly telling me to shut up. I sit there shocked. It’s soft, her finger, sliding down my bottom lip until her hand rests in my lap. It’s like i’m not even there, just another object in the room as she got consumed by the music.

I didn’t think I could be more turned on.

It’s the reason I write in the first place, the reaction and the feeling of absorption from my lyrics or my sound. But not many people around me get that. Paige so clearly does. It makes me feel warm, taken over with emotion because she sits there so focused, waiting for that first vocal.

—

Well shit, I think to myself when I finally hear the lyrics.

Maraye is crazy. She’s crazy for having me sit here and listen to her sing about sex while she wears those tight ass shorts, just days after telling me we are just friends. I can’t do anything about it.

My head slowly bows back and forth along with the sound of her voice. This song doesn’t deserve to be unreleased, it deserves to be in my library, on that playlist.

And even though we ain’t official

You know I ain't no regular girl

So tell me whenever I'm witcha

I got the best pussy in the—

I stare at her in awe, not just because of what I’m hearing but the way the smoke passes through her lips has me squeezing my legs together. My hand still rests in her lap lazily, I can’t will it to move, I don’t think she wants me to either.

It’s clear to me I have no self control. The other night, just minutes after dropping her off at home, I said I was done. Julian was a dickhead but that’s Maraye’s dickhead and I needed to respect it. Then here she goes, singing about how good she is in bed, and looking this fucking good. I need her. In all definitions of the word, I need her bad.

I stand up, needing some sort of space between us before I’m ripping every single thread of clothing on her body. I take a comfortable seat on the edge of the control panel, bowing my head with the melody. My heart rapidly beats in my chest, palms growing sweaty.

“You’re really good at this.” I breathe.

The song comes to an end, she presses a few buttons on her monitor that I don’t really care for. “Thank you, love.”

I force a large amount of oxygen into my lungs. Why did she have to say that? I was already struggling just being in the same room. Those damn eyes turning me into a mess between my thighs and here she goes.

A giggle escapes Maraye’s lips as she takes another hit. “Are you drunk?”

I shake my head. “Nah, ma. This tequila is hittin’ though.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what?”

“Nothing.” Maraye mumbles. “Whatcha think about the song?” She asks me. She scoots the chair closer to me, wheels rolling against the hardwood until she’s seated between my legs.

“Only you could make singing ‘bout sex sound so perfect.” I comment. She really did sound angelic, the nickname so fitting. My arms are crossed over my chest as I size her up. It’s the first time I get a good look at her tattoos, normally I’m looking at her eyes or her thighs or shamelessly her tits. But the ink down her arm makes me crazy.

There’s one in particular that catches my eye. Linework of three faces overlapped, one blue, one green, and one red. I have no idea of the meaning, or what it stands for but the pop of color on her skin eats me alive.

Maraye shifts in her seat and a smile inches on her lips. Her hips moving in a way that intrigues me. “You alright there, angel?”

“I’m just fine, superstar. You?” She poses. I reach forward, taking the blunt from her hand and taking a drag. The way it clouds my brain let me know that I was not about to leave this room without making a move on her. I set it on the tray to my right, listing to her as she hums, “that song looked like it riled you up. I’m observant.”

I pull her in closer by the arm of the chair, if I couldn’t flirt I would sure as hell have fun teasing her. “I’m observant too. You been holding these legs together all night. Why?”

“Are you minding my business?”

“Yeah, ma. Now what?”

She doesn’t respond and now I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to get everything out in the open, all the things she wants to say but holds back on.

“The line is paper thin, Madison.”

“Like I asked, why you been sittin’ like this?” I ask again.

I know what I want her to say. I want her to tell me it’s me. That I got her so turned on that she’s sitting here with her legs practically glued together because it’s morally wrong to act on how she’s feeling. Even tell me that she wants to rip my clothes off as badly as I want to rip hers off.

Her foot taps against the floor, echoing off the walls alongside our in sync breathing. “I-uh. M’just crossed. Leave me alone” She begs, voice low almost like she’s shy. It’s cute.

“Jus’ crossed, baby? Y’sure?”

I don’t think i’ve ever been so forward with Maraye than I am right now. Everything running through my body right now is like a shot of adrenaline.

“Paige! You can’t be doing this to me right now.” She tosses her head back frustratedly. I’m stifling a laugh from where I stand. I knew I could get her flustered but this was too easy.

She looks back up at me, her eyes dark and slightly glazed over. The weed has her eyes rimed with red and oddly enough the smell it exudes from her is incredible. Nearly as intoxicating as the substance itself.

“Doin’ what?” I chuckle. “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable, angel. You look tense.”

“You make me tense.”

I fake a pout. “Lemme fix it.”

“Why do you insist on not having a boundary or respecting mine?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever had boundaries, Raye.” I point out.

My hands instinctively reach for her own, standing her up so I’m not longer craning my neck to look at her. Still, the good four inches I have on her makes her eye me eagerly. Looking up like she’s giving in. “Paige we can’t.” Maraye sighs.

“So tell me to stop.” I muse.

“What?”

I trail my hands to her body. The left holding onto her hip while the other wraps around her waist. She doesn’t even try to fight me off, instead I swear she falls into me more. Her hand holds onto my bicep, avoiding eye contact with me.

I notice it. Every single act that is out of her normal. The stuttering and looking everywhere but me. She’s shy. I’ll take it as a good thing, that my actions have her reacting like a school girl.

“Lemme get you right.” I murmur.

Maraye’s mouth opens, then closes immediately after. My head pushes towards her, right where her neck meets her shoulder. I get a good whiff of her Chanel perfume.

“This is so wrong, P.” She whispers.

“Tell me,” I start with my lips up against her ear, “to stop.”

“The cameras.”

I look around the control panel, before spotting the on/off switch under the table. I flick it off, the red light by the camera in the corner blinks off.

“I—”

“Oh my God, just shut up.” I hum and it’s a matter of seconds before our lips are touching, moving against one another in sync.

It’s different than the first time. That one was slow, like we were still trying to figure it out. But this one? This one is hungry, fast and familiar. I can make out the taste of weed on her lips, tequila in the back of her mouth when my tongue reaches that spot.

Maraye’s hands are in my hair, tugging it between her fingers all hurried like I could slip away. Mine are everywhere. her hips, her thighs, her ass. I squeeze it before smoothing a hand over the area. A groan slips past my lips and into her mouth.

I’m pushing us away from the table, past all the chairs and wires until her back hits the leather couch behind us. I pull back, and her mouth is sucking on my tongue. I swear God himself would have to claw me off of her after that.

“Wanna take your clothes off.” I pant. My kisses move to her jaw, licking it before moving down her neck. I’m searching for that sweet spot, and when she moans in my ear I know I’ve found it.

It’s quite easily the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Maraye is quite easily the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Her stunning brown skin and curls that tickle my face with each suck I give to her neck. The septum in her nose and tattoos down her arm. To make things harder for me she smells fucking incredible, and the feel of her plush thighs in my hands reduces me to nothing.

My knee meets the center of her legs, that spot that makes her arch into me. I reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and it hangs off the arm of the couch.

“I wanna fuck you right here, angel.” I mutter against her warm skin. Maraye cups my face, pulling my lips back to hers eagerly. She licks at my bottom lip before slipping it into my mouth. I swallow up every moan she gives me, so damn desperate for more. My hand grips her breast that unfortunately is confined in that black sports bra she wears.

“Paige, fuck.” She gasps against me. Her hand leaves my face to pull my glasses off, they’re unbelievably foggy and I didn’t even notice, too busy tonguing her down to care. She holds them before kissing me again and biting my bottom lip.

“You’re fuckin’ nasty.” I sigh, pulling her closer.

Maraye moans my name when I push my knee deeper into her cunt. I can feel just how wet she is against my bare skin.

“Lemme have you, ma.” I grunt, suddenly felling very hot in the UConn hoodie I have on. “Show me how good that pussy is, baby. You said it’s the best, yeah? Prove it.”

It’s carnal the way I need her. Like my sole purpose for being put on this earth was to please her. I’ll do it. Happily. Hell, I’m begging for it.

“Fuck. God, P.” She hiccups, letting my hands travel wherever they can reach. They settle on her hips, playing with the waistband of her shorts while my tongue continues to clash with hers. God, it’s messy. Saliva sticky on my chin.

I’m about to dig into her shorts when the door handle fumbles. I sigh gratefully that it’s locked but then I hear it, the clicking.

—

The fact that I have to fight with myself on whether or not I should push Paige off of me is very telling of my behavior. Someone is messing with the lock on the door, so with what leftover strength I have, I pull away from Paige and push her back off of me.

She reaches for my face and wipes the saliva from my lips, giving me one more chaste kiss before sitting back on the opposite end of the couch. I search for my shirt, which has now made it’s way to the floor. By the time I toss it over my head and hand Paige her glasses back and fluff my hair so it is naturally falling over the hickeys I assume Paige has left on my neck, the door is swinging open.

“God damn, Raye. You coul— oh. I didn’t know you had someone else in here.”

It’s Kaylee, which makes me let out quite possibly the world’s biggest sigh of relief. I play with my bottom lip, hoping she can’t point out how swollen it is from Paige biting it.

Her taste, like cherries and a bit of tequila, has completely overpowered any other taste previously in my mouth. She’s taken over my entire body.

“Hey.” Paige greets her, awkwardly clearing her throat.

Kaylee smiles and waves before walking to the controls. She drops her bag in the seat I had just occupied earlier. She stands still, then looks up in the corner, the light by the camera’s that are almost always on suddenly off.

She flips the switch before turning to look at the two of us.

“Huh. Someone turned the camera’s off.” She comments.

“Weird.” I reply.

Really weird.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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you-need-not-apply · 14 hours ago

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you don’t even vote for the liberal party in your own country so stop judging others for not voting for Kamala

I love this ask because clearly anon has no fucking clue how politics in any country work. Lemme break it down:

In Australia, where I come from, liberal party = conservatives. They are not liberal, they’re mildly far right at best.

Also, how Aussie voting works is that you can still vote for third parties, as we don’t actually elect a prime minister. It’s a little confusing but to dumb is down (and yes I know it’s not completely acceptable just go with it)

Australia has multiple parties, notably are The Liberal party (right wing), The Labour Party (likes to be centre some what left mainly right, workers rights but voted against making price gouging illegal), the Greens (I vote for them just because we need green policy but they’re very far left wing), and like 40 other small parties plus all the independents.

How Aussie elections work is the people vote for people to get them seats in parliament, the majority wins and gets to elect a prime minister, they’re kinda like the kid who organised hide in seek and then didn’t play. Basically they have very little real power other than usual shit, they have to go through our Parliament House to get most stuff done.

And as Australia is still under British rule, we have a bunch on governors in each state and then a “head governor” in charge of says “yeah the colony is still there” back to England every now and again.

Also we can’t change our money without British permission. So every time we change something people hear make this big song and dance about it, which is hilarious considering they don’t give a single fuck.

But how does this allow for third party voting?

Let’s pretend there are three parties (only) the blue the red and the yellow parties. Blue and red want to make a ferry, yellow wants a train. People vote.

Now in America, you vote for the party and that’s your only vote. So if more people want the ferry, but because there are two options the vote is split. Boat wins majority vote, but the train would win because it has the most over all. Got it?

In Australia however, we rank our votes. My brain gone I thought it was 7 or 5 but I’m pretty sure that’s wrong, but it varies okay. So if I wanted a boat but I liked red party more than blue, I would vote 1-red 2-blue, 3-yellow.

Now red doesn’t get enough votes let’s say 20 people voted, 7 blue,8 yellow and 5 red: because I voted for 2 blue, and my first party (red) has been eliminated my vote now moves to the blue party, maybe some from the red party also did blue second and maybe some voted yellow second.

Let’s split the red party 4 for blue and 1 for yellow.

Blue has 11 and yellow has 9. Suddenly the ferry has won!

It’s a complicated system but it makes sure not a single vote is wasted, and as voting is compulsory here (thank fuck) it gives people a lot of leeway to fuck around. Hope this helped anon

#us politics #us elections #auspol #ausgov #tumblr #hellsite #hellsite (derogatory)#asks

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lavandulawrites · 20 hours ago

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Except for Sunday, which hsr character do you think would most likely to be yandere?

I think the most obvious answer after Sunday is Aventurine. Aventurine is a man who has lost everything he has hold dear. He lost his parents at a very early age and his sister who took on the mother role died right before his very eyes. His people got slaughtered and his planet destroyed. After he witnessed all these atrocities, he got taken by the IPC and made a slave. Due to his immense luck he managed to kill his master and became a Stoneheart.

After all this he is still lonely and broken. It won’t take much before he becomes a yandere for someone he loves. After he realises the feelings he has for you, he will do anything in his power to make you his. He has luck, power, influence and intelligence (let’s not forget that he is literally one of the smartest characters in the game).

I think Argenti also would be likely to become a yandere. Sure he dedicates his life to Idrila, but that’s not to say he won’t worship his beloved. He is delusional and valises beauty to an extreme extent. With his knighthood, he will use anything in his power to make sure his beloved stayed with him and lives a happy life. He might not be the worst yandere, but his obsession knows no bounds.

And let’s not forget Luocha. His Honkai 3 Impact counterpart literally has canon yandere tendencies for the woman he loves. Luocha is an incredibly enigmatic man with a silver tongue that makes lies sound like the truth. He might not be as obvious as the two other I mentioned, but do not underestimate him.

Edit:

You’re literally so right omg! How could I forget them🤦🏼‍♀️ I 100% agree with them all and I also think Mr. Reca gives of MAJOR yandere vibes.

A yan Sugilite x darling x yan Aventurine would be absolutely TERRIFYING for poor darling

I would love to hear everyone’s thoughts.

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jokeroutsubs · 2 days ago

Text

[📝ENG translation] 'My Parents Gave Me a Strong Sense of Identity'

An interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin.

Original article written by Teja Roglič for Ona plus, published 05.11.2024. English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu, proofread by IG Gboleyn123.

Full article and Spotify link under the cut 👇

🎧 Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Last year’s craze at Stožice, summer festival performances, the Eurovision Song Contest, international success. And then everyone asks, what could be bigger, what could be better? But as the band Joker Out releases their new album, they consciously follow the motto "I want less". Singer Bojan Cvjetićanin explains why: "This is our home, this is our base. If we don’t feel good at home, we can’t feel good anywhere. We need to rediscover love in our base, that’s what we told ourselves."

With the song Bluza, you’re returning to love. Why?

We went through a lot. The songs we released after Eurovision dealt with the most acute situational changes in our lives—touring, exhaustion, questioning ourselves. Now, it’s time to have a bit of fun again. And there's probably nothing more beautiful than being in love. (smiles)

I’ve been looking into people’s stories, into the lives of those around me, seeking beauty.

What did you discover?

That I enjoy writing about love the most. When you write from a place of uncertainty, it’s nice to get those feelings out; when you write about love, you search for timeless beats within yourself, not something that’s only fleeting. I write about the ideals of love I held as a child, and in the future, I’ll see how these have either evolved or fallen apart.

It's best to write about love...

When you have a broken heart.

Your Eurovision song was more socially critical, though it might seem, at first glance, to be about joy. In it, you say: "We won’t take part in your games or your divisions." Did the song’s message reach people?

Undoubtedly. A lot has changed in a year and a half, not only personally but also in terms of our views of social issues. For the first time, we've connected with young people from abroad. It was fascinating to see how connected the fans from different countries became, encouraging each other, learning new languages—even a lot of Slovene. The desire for peace and unity is very strong at our concerts, so our messages have touched them. But of course, you can never reach everyone. (smiles)

You mention changed perspectives with regards to society. Have any ideals been shattered?

Many ideals have crumbled. In school, learning about war, it always seemed odd to me that the world could just go on at the same time, despite the ongoing disruption in the system. Now, I see that we have access to all the information, that we see and hear what’s happening, that we witness an influx of people coming from regions where this is happening, yet everything literally carries on as usual.

War has become more of a trend on TikTok or Instagram than something people feel hurt about. This makes me very sad.

A lot of ideals that have shattered relate to the life of a musician. We’ve achieved things we could only have dreamed of—not just as kids; even two years ago, what’s happening now would have seemed impossible to me. But the ideal that’s crumbled is this one: I don’t always know how to appreciate what I have.

On tour, I often slipped into negative thoughts, didn’t appreciate everything happening to us. This links to the idea that this kind of life is easy, that as a successful musician, you only have fun. This, of course, isn’t true; it’s incredibly exhausting, both mentally and physically. I could go on until tomorrow, listing everything that’s fallen apart, but fortunately, a lot of new things have also come to be.

You’re the idols of generations; do you feel pressure because of that? After all, you’re still young guys too…

No. We already lost the childlike joy of music because we had to start working so much so early and get to know so many new systems. If we also take on the responsibility of raising generations of kids, we could truly fall into a black hole.

We need to be role models, but we can’t shape our work around that. On the upcoming album, there’s a song, 'Muzika za decu' ('Music for children'), which touches on this very point. We want to convey that we’re not addressing generations who think all younger people are lazy bums who only hinder the world’s progress. We’re addressing everyone who is young enough at heart to believe in a better world, a brighter tomorrow.

Photo: Vita Orehek

More and more musicians are stopping concerts at large venues when fans are in distress or overcrowding happens. You too?

Absolutely. This summer, we constantly stopped concerts if people were packed tightly indoors or out in the sun. We handed out a lot of water from the stage, and I even paused a concert if some listener (m.) was treating another listener (f.) disrespectfully. A concert is a safe space; there’s no place there for infringing on the rights of others.

That’s an interesting topic I wanted to touch on anyway. So what is the rock ‘n’ roll world of the new generation like?

It’s a lot better. I’m glad we’re not a group of drugged-out dudes living only for today. Carpe Diem really means seize the day, but for us, that doesn’t mean picking every fruit that exists in the world. Waking up healthy and energised, wanting to go to a concert, being open to meeting new people, our fans, being creative...

That’s what it means to seize the day. Sure, sometimes we go on a trip, we do have fun too. But I’m glad that sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll aren’t our guiding principles in the band. When we watched the documentary about Mötley Crüe, we saw how they started with heroin and opiates and ended with smoothies and fruit. Well, we’re already at the fruit and smoothies stage. (laughs)

“We’re constantly building a relationship that gets deeper every day, even though it seems like it can’t get any deeper,” you told me before the Stožice concert, as I was stunned when you said you were going on holiday with the guys right after the concert. How much do you invest in relationships within the band? We know it’s sometimes challenging to nurture a relationship between two people, let alone five.

This is like a partnership with five people. Except for intimacy, all the other elements of partnership are there. We’re companions. We often live together, work together; the dynamics are demanding. I talk a lot about this with fellow musicians. Recently, I was talking to Mr. Vlado Kreslin, and we concluded that being in a band requires a touch of madness.

Even if it ends someday—nothing is guaranteed—I know I have four lifelong friends. We exist as friends even beyond the band.

Success demands hard work; you’ve told me before how sure you were of your path in the band, of your decisions, and how hard you worked to achieve what you have. And we’re back to the topic that some might say your generation isn’t hardworking, that you’re quick to say what you won’t do at the work place...

The young people I know could hardly be described as not hardworking. I’d rather say we’re diligent, and the drive to work comes from the strong pressure that you need to achieve a lot very quickly, or else you won’t make it in this world. As for them being quicker to say no... Maybe they know they can’t live that way if something doesn’t work. And to live is very costly.

Young people feel they don’t have to stick rigidly to one profession, that they can change courses, jobs, and find something that suits them. We’re far from the days when the son was a blacksmith because the father was a blacksmith, and the daughter stayed home as a housewife. But we also have to know that there’s more and more uncertainty, precarious work.

If Gen Z is the way it is, I wouldn’t attribute that to the generation itself but rather to the Boomer generation. Everything that makes life harder for us isn’t the product of our ideas and actions. But it’s also true that sometimes, you need to stop, think, and make a decision. I’d like to do something today, something different tomorrow, but that’s not realistic. When you’re bombarded by choices from all ends, you have to make decisions. If there are three shirts in a store, I’ll pick one; if there are 250, I might end up buying sneakers instead. (laughs)

You performed at a concert aimed at contributing to the best possible care, treatment, and support for women with gynaecological cancer. You probably get invited to participate in quite a few charitable events; how do you choose them? This concert likely wasn’t a hard choice, as both of your parents are doctors...

My father is a gynaecologist, my mother is a pediatrician, so naturally, when I got the invitation, I immediately thought my dad would be happy if I could perform there. Otherwise, I choose events based on two criteria: whether it’s something important and whether I’m home at that time. I've often had to turn down an event I would have really liked to participate in simply because I wasn’t here.

Life has taken you all over in recent years. What have your parents given you that has stayed with you and has been proven most useful today?

They gave me a sense of normality. I'm an ordinary person who takes everything in moderation. I didn’t become a hedonist, nor did I give in to the patterns that the environment might impose. They gave me a strong sense of who I am and what I am, unconditional self-confidence, and self-respect. And the certainty that I’m never alone in anything.

Recently, the dramaturg Nina Kuclar Stiković and I talked about how Generation Z might be the first to actively work through its traumas, though she noted that taking on such responsibility across generations is a huge task. In the end, you might even feel worse. If you only become aware of your baggage but can’t overcome it, it can feel even worse than if you had never been made aware of it at all, she said. What do you observe around you, in your own generation?

Mental health has never been as openly discussed as it is today. I know many people who go to therapy. It’s actually strange that mental health was never treated before, that this stigma existed. If you have a cold, you stay home, you also heal a broken arm. Today's generations have managed to break free from these shackles. The individual is becoming increasingly more important.

People are working through the things in their minds. And this bothers many people from generations who suppressed everything and unleashed their traumas onto others. I often think how unfortunate it is that we don’t practice everyday therapy in our surroundings. Everyone surely has someone whom they trust. We talk about all sorts of things, but we never ask each other how we are and share that honestly. Now, I do this with a few friends, and it’s really nice. I go to my friends for therapy. (smiles)

Nina also mentioned that patriarchy has wronged not only women but men too. It’s unfair that men couldn’t show emotions and always had to be strong. It always helps if you can share your feelings with someone. What do you think?

The Neanderthal perception of masculinity is passé. We can all first tell ourselves, and then tell others, how we feel and what’s going on in our heads.

This summer, you performed at festivals. Now you have a new album, and you’ll be performing at various venues again, with tickets quickly selling out. It's a carousel that never stops. You mentioned earlier that you caught yourself maybe not appreciating it anymore. What do you do now to keep that from happening?

For the tour that’s coming with the release of the new album, we consciously followed the motto, "I want less." Last year, we played in Stožice, before that in Križanke. This year, we toured Europe, and everyone was asking us what big thing we’re preparing next. But we were only talking about how nice it would be to play at Ljubljana's Cvetličarna again.

Pass by Maribor too, go a bit to the clubs in the Balkans, and that’s it. This is our home; this is our base. If we don’t feel good at home, we can’t feel good anywhere. We told ourselves that we need to find love in our base again. I’m glad we recognise this, that we’re not just banging our heads against a brick wall. The purpose of this tour is simply to enjoy it.

A few years ago, you told my colleague Robert Rebolj, my fellow journalist, and your fellow musician, that you’d like to have kids while still young. Yet you also say that you're in a period where several of your ideals have collapsed as you look at the world around you. Does the desire still remain?

When I said that, I was thinking I’d have my first child between the ages of 28 and 30. Then Robert told me that having a child young doesn’t necessarily mean that. (laughs) I see it now, too, as some of my friends already have children, and some even their second. My calendar no longer just has friends’ birthdays, but, for instance, the first birthday of a friend’s child. (laughs) Yes, I think a lot about how this world is in many ways not what I imagined it would be, but I guess it’s always been that way throughout history—things have never been ideal. I think everyone, in every era, has felt the world is going to- hmmm, well, that’s how it seems to me too. (laughs)

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #Spotify #jo: bojan solo #source: onaplus #year: 2024 #og language: slovenian #type: article #jos: podcast

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manheeiim · 8 hours ago

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Nothing Lasts Forever - Gone Too Early

Warning: Season 4 Finale Spoiler Ahead

ᥫ᭡ link to nothing lasts forever masterlist

I ran through the crumbling building, my goggles pushed up my face, headscarf covering my hair as I ran around looking for JJ. He had left for a few moments to help the others and we were now separated and I was alone, scared for my life.

I had never thought that my life would come to the point that I was in another country for the nth time, running from people. I was now always running from people ever since I met JJ and the other pogues.

I look around as I call out for my boyfriend when suddenly, someone comes up from behind, grabbing me harshly, one hand grips my shoulder while the other holds a knife up to my neck.

I scream and immediately I'm being shushed so I oblige, scared for my life. I didn't even know who was behind me but I had a few guesses.

I could hear footsteps and JJ came running in he froze for a moment as he saw the position that me and whoever was holding me were in. He then comes over, holding onto the bag that held the crown.

"Let her go!" He firmly told whoever was holding me.

"Stop right there." The man behind me tells JJ and so he does. "You know what I want." He tells JJ and even I knew what he was talking about. The crown, he wanted the crown.

"Just let her go." JJ says and I really hope that he just gives the crown to this man to get me out of this situation but really, I had no real doubt that he would.

"You could've stuck with me JJ. Think what you could've had." The man says and immediately I know that it's his dad. His real dad.

I'm whimpering in fear as this all happens as I look into my boyfriend's eyes, waiting for him to just give the guy the damn crown. He looks me back in my eyes before looking over at his dad.

"You want the crown. Sure, take it. Take it. I don't want it. Just let Lucia go." He firmly says.

His dad reaches out for it and JJ hands it to him, his other hand immediately grabbing onto me as he exchanges the crown for me. He holds me close as he pulls me away, leaning down and hugging me tightly.

I relax into his hold and start to cry a bit in fear as we hold one another close.

"It's okay. It's okay." He softly says and I pull away a little before kissing him. We pull away after a few moments and he looks down at me.

"JJ." I hear his dad say. JJ reluctantly turns around to face his dad. "It's a shame. You and me." His dad says and I sigh.

There's then a movement from his dad, a squelching noise, and JJ is bending down a little, a groan falling from his lips. I freeze, not able to process what had just happened. I back away a little and then I see, the knife in JJ's stomach. I gasp, my whole body now shaking in fear, not knowing what to do.

I watch in fear as his dad shoves the knife deeper into him, "You should have.. given me.. the rope." His dad says before pulling the knife out of him. JJ falls back a bit and I hold onto him as his dad stands there for a moment before running off.

"JJ..." I say, voice shaking. "JJ." I say a bit louder, the panic setting in. He falls to the ground and I kneel down with him. "No, no. No. Please, no. No." I'm stammering, tears sliding down my cheeks.

He's coughing, choking, stammering and I'm freaking out, my hand trying to stop the bleeding even though obviously that wouldn't work.

"I- I don't know what to do." I sob, feeling like I was making this even worse by not knowing what to do.

His hand comes up to my face before moving to my head, caressing my head over the scarf weakly. "Lucia.." He mutters out.

My heart drops even more than it already did, "No, no, don't." I say, knowing what he was going to say.

"Lucia, I love you. I love you so much." JJ says, despite my rejection. I find myself sobbing as I lean my head into his chest. "We're- we're not going to be able to have what we wanted. The- the big kook house with dogs and kids- kids of our own. I'm s-sorry, baby." He stammered out, using a lot of energy even to just say that.

Those words hit my heart so deeply, hurting it in a way I've never felt before. I'd never felt this type of pain before. Never in my life.

"Don't say that." I sob against his chest. "Don't!"

"I love you, Lucia. I love you." I say and after a few moments, I feel his body still and his hand slowly drops from my head. I freeze, quickly pulling away and I could see his body completely still and his eyes shut.

"JJ." I say. "JJ. JJ? JJ. Please, JJ. Please answer me!" I sob, shaking his body but he's limp. "No!" I cry out. "No! No! No!" I sob loudly as hug his body. "No!" I scream in internal pain as I cry against his skin.

I don't even realize it when the others come running over and crowd JJ and me. I don't. I'm completely in my own world as I sob in utter pain and sorrow. He was gone. He was dead. JJ was dead.

The man who, yeah, I planned to live in a nice Kook house with, with dogs and our own kids, was dead. Sure, I knew that would never happen but I was okay living the life we already lived, as long as it meant that I was with him.

What was I going to do without him? What was I going to do? He was all I wanted and now, I could have him no longer. JJ was the only one who really fully understood me. The only person I ever fully opened up to. I couldn't imagine being like that with anyone else and he was gone. Gone.

Sure, he made some stupid choices and sure, he didn't have the best life but that never mattered to me. I knew that all too well. I could never judge him for it. I'd always love him despite that.

Maybe I should've known that this day would come. I probably should've. Maybe in the back of my mind, I did know. If it hadn't been today it likely would've been another day. Especially with the way things were going leading up to this day.

I should've known that nothing lasts forever.

THE END

#manheeiim #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #angst #fluff

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mcrdvcks · 14 hours ago

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i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1880 - labyrinth of my heart

chapter summary: When walking the streets of Chicago he spots you across the street, so real, so alive. Logan takes this as a second chance; but fear slowly slithers up, making him wonder if he'll lose you all over again.

word count: 9.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: first, i want to say thank you so much for the support and love for this series! this is way shorter than the first chapter, only because i wanted the ending to feel abrupt to hopefully make it feel more realistic. anyways, i'm super excited for next chapter since it's a concept i haven't ever really done before. but for now, enjoy this while it lasts :)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, character death

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

Logan left New York City after you died, going back to Victor who told him exactly what he expected to hear, ‘you shouldn’t have fallen in love,’ and ‘the only people we can trust is each other’.

The Civil War had begun seven years after your death as he and Victor fought for the North for four whole years. There was one thing he always kept with him, the ring he bought for you, that he never got to use. It stayed in his pocket at all times, never leaving, always there.

He had been doing the same thing he was doing before he met you, moving around the country, never staying in a spot for too long, doing odd jobs to stay afloat.

Logan found himself in Chicago, walking along the sidewalk, the faint sound of a train in the distance. The air was heavy with the scent of coal smoke, the city bustling with life in the late afternoon. Men in long coats and women in modest dresses hurried past him, some tipping their hats in his direction as he walked by. It was just another city to him, another place he would pass through on his way to nowhere in particular.

It had been 26 years since you died. Twenty-six long years, but to Logan, it still felt like yesterday. The weight of your loss hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had only grown heavier. Every town, every face he saw, reminded him of you in some way. That soft smile you always wore, the way you’d brush your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. He kept your memory alive in the smallest of ways. The ring he’d never had the chance to give you stayed in his pocket, its presence a constant, painful reminder.

He walked without a destination, his mind lost in the past as his feet carried him down the streets of Chicago. The city had a pulse of its own, far different from the quiet life in New York where you’d once lived, where you had died in his arms. He hadn't felt truly alive since then—just going through the motions of life, the decades slipping by as if time itself didn’t matter.

As Logan neared a small schoolhouse, something caught his eye. A group of children were gathered outside, their laughter echoing through the street as they played. But it wasn’t the children that caused Logan to stop. It was the woman standing among them, her smile bright as she helped one of the younger boys tie his shoe. The world around him seemed to blur, fading away as his gaze locked onto her.

It was you.

Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. He blinked, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but there you were, the same face, the same gentle presence. You looked exactly as you had all those years ago—maybe a little younger, maybe a little different, but unmistakably you.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you laugh with the children, completely unaware of his presence. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. You were dead. He had been there. He had held you as you took your last breath, felt the life leave your body. And yet, here you were, as if the last 26 years had never happened.

Logan’s feet moved on their own, pulling him closer to the schoolyard. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry. His mind raced with a thousand questions. How could this be? Was it some kind of dream? A cruel trick?

But the closer he got, the more real you became. You were wearing a simple dress, your hair tied up in a way he hadn’t seen before, and yet everything about you felt so familiar. The way you carried yourself, the warmth in your eyes as you spoke to the children—it was all you.

“Excuse me, miss,” he called out, his voice rougher than he intended.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his for the first time, and Logan felt his heart lurch. It was like being thrown back in time—like the years between this moment and the day you died had vanished. You looked at him with a polite curiosity, but there was no recognition in your eyes. No flicker of memory. To you, he was just a stranger.

“Yes, can I help you?” you asked, your voice soft, kind.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain what was running through his mind? How could he tell you that he had loved you, that he had lost you, and that now—somehow—you were standing in front of him again?

“I... I thought I knew you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. He didn’t trust himself to say more. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the ring in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever.

You smiled, but it was the smile of someone trying to be polite, not of someone who knew him. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” you said. “I’m Y/N. I’m the schoolteacher here.”

Logan swallowed hard. Of course, you wouldn’t remember. You had no idea who he was, no memory of the life you’d lived before. To you, this was just another day, another moment. But to Logan, it was everything. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You were here, alive again, but you weren’t his Y/N. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m Logan,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, his heart aching in a way that felt both familiar and new.

You nodded, offering another warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. Was there something you needed?”

Logan shook his head slowly, still reeling from the shock of seeing you again. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I... I just thought you looked like someone I used to know.”

You tilted your head slightly, a curious look in your eyes. “I get that sometimes. Chicago’s a big city, but it can feel small.”

Logan nodded, though his mind was far from this moment. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of miracle—a second chance. But what could he do with it? Could he approach you, tell you everything? Or would that only drive you away?

Before he could say anything more, the school bell rang, and the children started to gather their things. You glanced back at the sound, then looked at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I have to get back to my class. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Logan nodded, his throat too tight to respond with words. He watched as you turned and walked back toward the schoolhouse, his heart aching with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

For the first time in 26 years, Logan felt hope stir in his chest. You were here. You were alive. And even if you didn’t remember him, even if you didn’t know who he was... he couldn’t walk away. Not this time.

---

Logan stayed near the schoolyard most afternoons, hidden just enough not to draw attention, watching you from a distance. It felt strange, almost painful, standing there, knowing you had no idea who he was. Every time you emerged from the schoolhouse with Ida, another schoolteacher, chatting and laughing, the urge to approach you tugged at him. But fear held him back—fear that you’d think he was insane, or worse, that you’d reject him outright.

He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets, feeling the cool metal of the ring press against his palm. It had been with him through wars, across states, through lifetimes. And now, here you were, alive again, and he still didn’t know what to do with it.

It was absurd, the way his heart raced just from seeing you walk down the street. How after all these years—after so much pain—hope could sneak its way back in. This wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Logan wasn’t the type to believe in magic or miracles, but what else could explain this?

As he lingered, the school bell rang, signaling the end of another day. Children poured out of the building, laughing and running. A few hung on your arms as you walked them down the steps, their chatter filling the air.

Logan shifted from foot to foot, nerves prickling along his spine. Just talk to her, idiot. You’ve been through worse.

But when you stepped into the street, Ida at your side as usual, the words died in his throat.

“Y/N, you coming for dinner at my place tonight?” Ida asked, tucking a stray curl beneath her bonnet.

You smiled, brushing your hands on your skirts. “Can’t tonight, but I’ll stop by tomorrow. The kids wore me out today.”

Ida chuckled. “You’ll turn into an old maid before you’re thirty at this rate.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laugh was warm. Logan felt the sound of it settle deep in his chest—like an old memory coming back to life. It was a laugh he hadn’t heard in 26 years, and it took everything in him not to run to you right then and there.

As you and Ida turned the corner toward the tenement, Logan followed at a distance. His heart hammered against his ribs. He just needed a moment, a chance to say something—anything.

Finally, the two of you paused outside the building. Ida gave you a quick hug before heading upstairs, leaving you alone on the stoop. You stood there for a moment, adjusting your shawl against the evening chill.

This is it. Now or never.

Logan forced his feet to move, crossing the street toward you.

You looked up as he approached, a little surprised but not alarmed. “Logan, wasn’t it?”

His throat felt tight, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Logan.”

You smiled softly, the same kind smile that had haunted his dreams. “What brings you by?”

He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “I... I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but there was no fear, only curiosity. “About what?”

Logan shifted his weight, his hands tightening around the edges of his coat. The ring in his pocket seemed to burn against his skin, a reminder of everything unsaid.

“I... You remind me of someone,” he admitted, voice low. “Someone I lost a long time ago.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze steady but gentle. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence between you—heavy, charged with the weight of all the things Logan couldn’t say. You didn’t know him, didn’t know what you’d meant to him in another life, but standing here, so close to you again, it felt like the world had tilted back into place.

“You... wanna walk for a bit?” Logan asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Something in his expression must’ve stirred your kindness, because you nodded. “Alright.”

The two of you started down the sidewalk together, the city humming around you. Logan kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, fingers brushing the ring again and again like a talisman.

“So, how long have you been in Chicago?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Logan shrugged. “Not long. Just passing through.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s a good place to get lost in for a while.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm after that—small talk, nothing too deep. Logan told you bits and pieces about his travels, careful not to reveal too much. He learned that you’d moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, taking the teaching job because it felt right.

“I’ve always liked working with kids,” you said with a soft smile. “There’s something... hopeful about it, you know?”

Logan nodded, though hope had been a foreign concept to him for a long time. But walking beside you now, listening to your voice, he felt something stir in him—a flicker of warmth he thought he’d lost forever.

As the evening deepened and the sky turned a dusky purple, you reached your building again. You stopped on the stoop, turning to face him.

“Thank you for the walk,” you said, your smile gentle. “It was nice.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still—like the universe had bent just enough to give him this moment with you. And even though you didn’t remember him, didn’t know the history you shared, Logan knew he couldn’t let you slip away again.

“Y/N...” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head, waiting.

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “Can I see you again?”

Your smile widened, something warm flickering in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

Logan gave a short nod, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Good,” he murmured.

And for the first time in 26 years, Logan allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he’d found his way back to you.

---

You had taken up Ida’s offer after all, you lived in the same building so it wasn’t like it was out of the way for you.

“Oh, hey! Thought you weren’t gonna come by.”

You shrugged, taking off your shawl, “changed my mind.” You sat down on the couch and told Ida about your walk with Logan, and she listened intently.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed him. He’s been watching the schoolyard for the past few weeks.”

"Wait, what do you mean, ‘he’s been watching the schoolyard for weeks?’” you asked, your brows knitting together as you leaned forward.

Ida waved her hand dismissively but gave you a sly smile. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. He hasn’t been creepy about it or anything. Just... noticed him hanging around, that’s all. Kind of hard to miss a guy like that, don’t you think?”

You blinked, a sudden flush creeping up your neck. “A guy like what?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” she teased, sitting down across from you. “Tall, rugged... that serious, brooding look. You’re telling me you didn’t notice? He’s practically been glued to the corner across from the schoolhouse for days.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking back to the walk you’d just had with Logan. You hadn’t seen him watching the school, but now that Ida mentioned it... there had been something in his eyes. A familiarity you couldn’t quite place, like he was looking at you but seeing something—or someone—else.

“I didn’t know he was hanging around,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “But... he seems kind. Sad, but kind.”

Ida leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest with a thoughtful hum. “Sad, huh? You picked up on that, too?”

You nodded, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. There had been a weight to Logan’s presence, something unspoken in his voice, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Ida shrugged, her teasing expression softening. “Who knows? The world’s a tough place. We all got our own burdens to carry. But... maybe he’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what?”

“Maybe someone to share the load,” she replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe that someone’s you.”

You shook your head, the idea seeming too far-fetched. “I don’t even know him, Ida. I mean, we just talked for the first time today.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Ida said, getting up to grab a pot of tea from the stove. “You felt something, right? That’s not nothing.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I guess. He did say I reminded him of someone he lost.”

Ida paused, setting the teapot down carefully. “Lost, huh? That would explain the sad part. But... why hang around you then? What’s he hoping to find?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. The idea that Logan had been watching you, even unknowingly, made something stir in your chest—a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite name.

Ida handed you a cup of tea, sitting back down beside you. “Well, maybe next time you see him, you can ask.”

You looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ask him why he’s hanging around the schoolyard?”

Ida laughed softly. “Maybe not that bluntly, but yeah. There’s something about him, Y/N. Might be worth finding out what.”

You sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you. Maybe Ida was right. Maybe Logan was carrying something heavy, and maybe—just maybe—you could help.

---

The next day, you found yourself more aware of your surroundings as you walked to the schoolhouse. Every sound, every movement seemed sharper. You scanned the street, looking for a familiar figure, but Logan wasn’t there—at least, not that you could see.

The day went on as usual, though you felt a bit distracted, your mind drifting to the walk you’d shared with him. There was something about Logan that pulled at you, a quiet intensity that you couldn’t shake. He was a mystery, and part of you wanted to solve it.

When the school day ended, you lingered outside a little longer than usual, hoping—half-expecting—that he might show up again. The children ran off, their laughter echoing down the street as they disappeared into their homes. You smiled at the sight, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan standing just a few feet away. He had approached so quietly you hadn’t even heard him.

“Logan,” you said, surprised but not unwelcome. “I didn’t see you.”

He gave a small shrug, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You smiled softly, your heartbeat slowing as the initial surprise wore off. “It’s alright. Just didn’t expect to see you today.”

Logan shifted his weight, his gaze flicking to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wanted to see if you’d like to take another walk. If you’re not too tired, that is.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. There was something in his voice—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. And despite not knowing him well, you found yourself wanting to say yes.

“I’d like that,” you said, stepping down from the schoolhouse stoop.

The two of you started walking again, this time in a different direction, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the street. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, though, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Logan walked beside you, his steps steady but deliberate, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Why’ve you been hanging around the school?” you finally asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ida said she noticed you there for a while.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, and he didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “I wasn’t trying to... I don’t know. I guess I was just... drawn there.”

“Drawn there?” you echoed, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “Yeah. Like I said before, you remind me of someone.”

You didn’t press, sensing that whatever it was, it was personal. Instead, you walked in silence for a few more steps before Logan stopped abruptly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face you fully. His eyes were intense, but there was something almost apologetic in them. “If I am, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

Logan studied your face, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, almost as if he was relieved.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

The conversation shifted after that, lightening as you talked about small things—the city, your students, even the weather. Logan listened more than he spoke, but you could feel him relax bit by bit, the tension in his posture easing as the afternoon wore on.

When you reached your building again, Logan stopped with you on the stoop. There was a moment of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, offering him a small smile.

Logan looked at you for a long beat before nodding. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you turned to head inside, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan was still standing there, watching you with that same look in his eyes—the one that made you feel like you were more than just a stranger to him.

And in that moment, you realized... you didn’t want to be just a stranger to him either.

---

After about a week of Logan walking you home, it became a familiar routine. Each time, you’d stand on the stoop, exchanging a few words before you’d head inside, always with that lingering feeling of something left unsaid. But tonight was different—the air was colder, and the wind was biting, so when you reached your building, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not going out in that cold again,” you said firmly, reaching for his arm. He tensed slightly under your touch, but you ignored it, tugging him toward the door. “Ten minutes outside in the cold, you need to warm up before you go.”

Logan didn’t protest, but you could sense his hesitation. He glanced around the dimly lit hallway as you led him up the stairs to your small apartment.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I won’t keep you long. Just until you can feel your fingers again.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, following you inside. Once you were both in, you motioned for him to sit down on the worn couch, tossing your shawl onto a chair as you made your way to the stove to boil some water for tea.

Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the modest space, before finally sitting down. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate.

“You don’t gotta fuss,” he muttered, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “I’m alright.”

“Humor me,” you replied with a soft smile, setting a kettle on the stove. “Besides, I’ve been dragging you along on these walks. Least I can do is make sure you’re not freezing to death.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into the couch. His eyes followed your movements, though his expression stayed guarded. He looked... cautious, like he wasn’t sure how to be here with you, in this space. It was strange, this carefulness, coming from a man who seemed so unbreakable.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” you asked, turning to face him while the water heated up. “We’ve been walking for a week, and I feel like I barely know you.”

Logan’s gaze shifted, and you could tell he was weighing his words. “Not much to tell,” he said after a beat. “Just a guy who’s been around a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “That’s it? No family, no friends? You just... wander?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers idly tracing the worn fabric of the couch. “Had family once. Friends, too. Lost most of ‘em.”

There was a heaviness in his voice, and you could feel the weight of his words. You didn’t push him, though. Instead, you poured the hot water into two cups, walking over and handing him one.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan took the cup but didn’t drink right away. He stared down into the tea, his expression unreadable. “Life’s hard for everyone,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sat down beside him, the warmth from the cup seeping into your hands. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, sipping tea and letting the quiet fill the space. There was something about being near him that made you feel calm, like the world slowed down for a little while when he was around.

“Why’d you let me walk with you?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice rougher than before.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Most people wouldn’t... They’d be scared, or they’d push me away. But you... you let me stay.”

You frowned, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know... I guess I just felt like... I should.” You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze. “Besides, you’re not exactly a scary guy. Brooding, sure, but not scary.”

A small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not afraid of much, are you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not really. I mean, what’s the point of being afraid? Life’s hard enough without worrying about things that might not even happen.”

Logan’s smile faded, replaced by that familiar look of sadness. He stared into his cup for a moment, then set it down on the table in front of him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess you’re right.”

The silence stretched between you again, but this time it felt heavier, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air. You could feel it, pressing down on both of you, but neither of you seemed ready to break it.

Finally, Logan stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. “I should go,” he said, though he didn’t make a move toward the door.

You stood up too, your heart pounding a little harder than usual. “Logan...”

He turned to face you, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah?”

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm again. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without saying a word, he nodded once, a silent acknowledgment that you didn’t need to explain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly before turning to leave.

You watched him go, your heart heavy but hopeful. There was something between you—something unspoken, something old—and you weren’t ready to let it go.

Not yet.

---

It had taken a few more days to convince Logan to come back into your apartment. You weren’t sure how you convinced him this time, but you were happy that you did.

Your apartment smelled nice and homey. Before you had left for work, you had put bread in the oven to bake, and now, as you came back home with Logan in tow, it was finished. The warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread filled the room as you stepped inside. Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering for a moment before following you in, his expression unreadable but curious.

You busied yourself with the bread, slicing into the crust and offering Logan a piece. He took it, though his attention seemed more focused on you than the food.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a bite.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from him being here. "I was thinking..." you started, turning to grab a couple of plates from the cupboard. "Maybe we could go into the city tomorrow? It’s market day. There's a lot to see, and it’d be nice to get out of the schoolhouse routine for a bit."

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. "Market, huh?"

"Yeah, you know, just... walk around. Maybe pick up a few things." You looked over at him, half expecting him to decline, but to your surprise, he didn’t.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but without hesitation. "I’ll come with you."

You smiled, feeling a small flutter of excitement in your chest. "Great. It’ll be fun. I promise."

---

The next day, you found yourself walking through the bustling streets of Chicago with Logan by your side. The market was crowded, full of people haggling and chatting, the air thick with the smell of fresh produce, spices, and the occasional whiff of roasting meat. It was a world away from the quiet walks you'd shared, and you could feel Logan's unease in the busy atmosphere. But he stayed close, his hand brushing yours more than once as you wove through the crowd.

"Do you come here often?" Logan asked, his eyes scanning the vendors with mild interest.

"Once or twice a month," you replied. "I like the energy here. Makes the city feel alive, you know?"

Logan grunted in response, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. You could tell he wasn’t used to this—being around so many people—but he stuck close to you, his presence protective without being overbearing.

After a while, you stopped at a stall selling flowers. The colors were vibrant, a burst of life in the middle of the dusty street. You picked up a small bouquet of wildflowers, smiling as you held them up.

"These are my favorite," you said, glancing up at Logan. "They're simple but... I don't know, they make me happy."

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at the flowers in your hand, then back at you. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the vendor before you could protest.

"Logan, you don’t have to—"

"Consider it a thank you," he said quietly, cutting you off. "For the bread."

You blinked, surprised but touched by the gesture. "Well, thank you."

He nodded, and the two of you continued walking, the flowers resting in the crook of your arm as the city bustled around you. For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the market fading into the background as the two of you wandered further from the busy streets. Eventually, you found a quiet park at the edge of the city, a small, peaceful space away from the noise.

You sat down on a bench, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. Logan sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes always scanning the area, as if he couldn’t fully let his guard down.

"Do you ever stop looking over your shoulder?" you asked, half teasing but curious.

Logan’s mouth twitched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Old habit."

You studied him for a moment, sensing there was more behind those words. He had a way of holding himself, like he was always ready for something, always waiting. It made you wonder just how much he’d seen, how much he’d lived through.

"I’m glad you came with me today," you said softly, looking out at the park. "I feel like I’ve been stuck in a routine for a while now. It’s nice to just... do something different."

Logan glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "I’m glad I came too," he admitted, his voice low.

There was something in the way he said it, something that made your heart skip a beat. The air between you felt different, charged with a quiet tension that neither of you seemed willing to break. You wondered if he felt it too—the strange pull between you, like something just beneath the surface was waiting to be uncovered.

After a long pause, Logan spoke again. "I ain’t good at... this." He gestured vaguely, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "Being close to people."

You turned to him, surprised by the admission. "You’re doing fine," you said gently.

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he shook his head. "It’s not that simple."

You felt a pang of something—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. Whatever it was, it made you reach out, your hand lightly brushing his. "You don’t have to explain," you said softly. "I get it."

Logan’s eyes flickered down to where your hand rested near his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, his rough fingers brushing against yours in the faintest of touches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—like maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in.

---

As you walked to the tenement building after work one day, you glanced over at Logan. “You ever been to the exhibition hall in the city?”

Logan looked over to you, slightly puzzled by the question. “The exhibition?”

You nodded, turning toward him. “There’s a display of inventions and art from all over. I heard they’ve got this new thing—electric lights. I was thinking about going this weekend, and… maybe you’d like to come with me?”

For a moment, Logan just stared at you, as if unsure what to say. The idea of stepping out into the city, surrounded by people, probably wasn’t something he did often. But he shifted slightly, his eyes softening in that way they did when you caught him off guard.

“You want me to go with you?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” you said, smiling. “We’ve been walking the same few streets for days. Thought it might be nice to do something different. Besides, I’m curious about those lights. They say it’s going to change the way people live.”

Logan gave a low, thoughtful hum, and for a moment, you worried he might decline. But then he nodded slowly, his expression softening further. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Your smile widened. “Great! We can meet at my place on Saturday afternoon, then head out.”

The conversation drifted back into easier topics—your students, a new bakery that had opened nearby, and the way the city seemed to grow busier every day. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this small invitation marked a shift, a way to see more of who Logan was beyond the quiet man who walked beside you in silence. Maybe out in the world, you’d understand him better.

---

Saturday came quickly, and the two of you walked side by side through the busy streets, the sounds of horses and carriages filling the air. You led Logan through the bustling avenues toward the exhibition hall, your excitement barely contained.

“Ever seen anything like this?” you asked, glancing up at him as the towering hall came into view.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the building, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not in a while.”

Inside, the hall was a wonder of modern marvels. Booths lined with mechanical inventions, sculptures, and paintings from around the world. The hum of excitement filled the air, and the bright new electric lights cast a strange, almost magical glow over everything.

You wandered the displays together, your curiosity leading the way. Logan stayed close, his attention less on the inventions and more on you. Every now and then, he'd glance at a piece of machinery or a strange-looking contraption, but his eyes kept drifting back to your face, watching the way your expression changed with each new discovery.

"This is incredible," you murmured, leaning in to get a closer look at a large machine labeled as an ‘automatic loom.’ You smiled at Logan, your excitement clear. "Can you imagine how much time this would save?"

Logan nodded, though you could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "Yeah, I can see how it'd be useful."

You moved to the next display, but Logan lingered for a moment. When he finally caught up, you were already studying a painting—a soft, pastoral scene that contrasted with the industrial energy around you.

"It's beautiful, isn’t it?" you said, glancing at him.

Logan’s gaze flicked to the painting, but quickly returned to you. "Yeah," he said, though it was clear he wasn’t talking about the art.

You felt his eyes on you again and looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something there—something that made your heart skip. Logan had always been protective, always hovering just close enough to shield you if need be. But this felt different, like there was more to it now.

"You sure this ain’t boring for you?" you asked, trying to lighten the moment. "I know you’re not one for crowds."

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his version of a chuckle. "It’s fine. Long as you’re enjoying yourself."

You smiled, touched by the sentiment. "I am. Thanks for coming with me."

For a while, you wandered together in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the exhibition hall. The crowds around you buzzed with excitement, but the space between you and Logan felt almost separate—like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

At one point, you stopped in front of a display showcasing early electric light bulbs. "Look at that," you said, pointing to the glass bulbs flickering with soft light. "They’re saying these will replace gas lamps soon."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Doesn’t seem right, replacing something that’s worked for so long."

"Change is good sometimes," you said, glancing at him. "It keeps things moving forward."

Logan met your eyes, his expression soft but thoughtful. "Guess I’ve never been good with change."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the weight behind his words. "Maybe you just haven’t found the right reason to embrace it yet."

For a moment, Logan didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you, like he was trying to make sense of something. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Maybe."

As the afternoon wore on, the two of you eventually stepped outside the exhibition hall, the sun low in the sky and the city’s evening glow starting to take over. The air felt cooler now, a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

You walked beside Logan in comfortable silence, but the charged undercurrent between you hadn’t faded. It felt like something had shifted—like you’d both acknowledged a deeper connection, even if neither of you had fully put it into words yet.

"You want to get something to eat?" Logan asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you said, smiling up at him. "There’s a place not far from here. They make the best stew."

Logan nodded, falling into step beside you again as you made your way toward the small restaurant you had in mind. The quiet between you was easy, but there was an unspoken understanding that something had changed between the two of you today. Neither of you said it out loud, but you didn’t need to.

As you entered the restaurant, the warm scent of food filled the air, and you found a table near the back, away from the main crowd. Logan took the seat across from you, his eyes scanning the room out of habit, but eventually settling back on you.

"This place isn’t so bad," he said, giving a small nod of approval.

You laughed softly. "Glad it meets your standards."

Logan smirked, but there was a softness behind it. As the two of you talked over dinner, you realized just how much you enjoyed moments like this—quiet, simple, yet meaningful. It wasn’t about grand gestures or fancy places; it was about being together, about the way Logan made you feel safe and seen.

---

One day, after inviting Logan into your apartment once again, you set out to make tea like you always do.

You felt a cough building up in your throat, so you grabbed a small handkerchief from the counter and coughed into it. You had seen the school doctor while you were at work, and he said you just had a mild cold.

Logan, who was sitting on the couch, immediately turned his head to you, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He’d heard that cough before—26 years ago.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You turned around, still holding the handkerchief to your mouth. "Yeah?" you answered casually, noticing the tension in his voice but thinking nothing of it. “Just a little cough, nothing serious. I saw the doctor earlier, and he said it’s just a cold.”

Logan stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He took a step closer, his mind racing back to 1854, to your last days—bedridden and coughing, just like this. He had lost you then, watching helplessly as the illness took you. He couldn't shake the feeling, the memory, and the fear that history might repeat itself.

"Cold, huh?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge to it.

"Yeah, no big deal." You smiled, folding the handkerchief and putting it back in your pocket. "Really, Logan, I’m fine."

Logan’s jaw tightened. He had seen too much, lived too long to believe in coincidence. This was too familiar, too painful. And yet, here you were—alive, vibrant. This time, he couldn’t lose you again. He wouldn't.

"You should take it easy," he said, stepping closer, his tone gentler now. "You been workin' too hard at that school."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing his concern but not quite understanding the depth of it. "I’m fine, really. It’s just a little cold. Nothing that rest and tea won’t fix."

Logan didn’t argue, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently brushed his fingers against your arm, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him. This wasn’t 1854. But the memory haunted him.

You noticed the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he was afraid to lose you. "Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his. "What’s really going on?"

Logan’s breath hitched for a moment, and he fought the urge to pull you closer, to tell you everything. But how could he? How could he explain that you’d been here before—that he’d watched you die, that he’d loved you once in another life, in another time? Instead, he just shook his head, the weight of those memories too heavy to share.

"Just... don’t push yourself too hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "I’ve seen people get worse when they don’t take care of themselves."

You nodded, though his intensity still lingered in your mind. "I promise, I’ll rest." You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, you’ll make sure I do, right?"

Logan’s lips quirked into the smallest smile, but there was still something distant in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "I will."

The moment hung in the air, the unspoken weight of Logan’s past pressing down on him, though you couldn’t see it. You were the same, and yet not. The woman he had once loved and lost was standing right in front of him, alive, but without any memory of that life you’d shared.

---

You didn’t see Logan for a few days, which was unusual, ever since he started walking with you he had never missed a day.

You couldn’t help but worry a tad bit, it wasn’t like him to just not be there. Even Ida had made a few comments, including now as you sat in her apartment, just a few doors down from your own, sipping tea.

“He hasn’t been by at all?” Ida asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “That man never misses a day. He’s usually lurking outside, waitin’ to walk you home.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s been three days now.”

Ida leaned forward, her hands folded on the table. “You don’t think somethin’s happened to him, do ya? That man is tough, sure, but even the toughest get into trouble sometimes.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to entertain the thought. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just needed some time alone. He’s... not the type to explain himself much.”

Ida hummed, though she didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But if he doesn’t show up soon, you ought to go find him. He’s a good man, Y/N, and you’ve only known him a month, but it’s clear he cares about you.”

The truth of her words settled over you, heavy and unspoken. You cared about Logan too. Even if you didn’t quite understand the pull between you, it was there—undeniable. And the fact that he hadn’t shown up, without so much as a word, made your chest tighten with worry.

Later that evening, after you’d left Ida’s apartment and returned to your own, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Logan had become part of your routine, part of your day-to-day life. And now that he was gone, it felt like something was missing.

Just as you were about to turn in for the night, a knock sounded at the door.

Your heart jumped, and you rushed to open it, half expecting—half hoping—it would be Logan.

And there he was.

He stood in the doorway, his coat damp from the light rain outside, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes, though, were what caught you—the familiar intensity, but with something else lurking beneath. Something darker.

“Logan,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “Where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”

Logan stepped into your small apartment, his broad frame somehow filling the space, making it feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything right away, just ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.

“I needed time,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Time for what?” you asked gently, sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t easy for him.

Logan glanced at you, then looked away, as if he couldn’t meet your eyes. His jaw tightened, and you could see the struggle on his face—like he was wrestling with something deep inside. After a long pause, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words sounding foreign in his mouth, like he wasn’t used to saying them.

You blinked, taken aback. Logan was the last person you ever expected to hear those words from. “Scared of what?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you saw the vulnerability there, raw and unguarded. “Of losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… we’ve only known each other for a month,” you said softly, though the words felt strange even as they left your mouth. Because deep down, it felt like you’d known him much longer—like this connection between you was more than just a month in the making.

“I know,” Logan said, his voice rough. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something desperate and pained, like he was holding onto you with everything he had. You wanted to ask him why, to understand what had happened in his past to make him feel this way. But instead, you just reached out, your hand finding his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m right here.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and before you could say anything more, he stepped closer, his hand cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch rough but gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of your apartment, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was urgent, almost desperate, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. His lips moved against yours with a fierceness that took your breath away, and for a moment, all you could do was hold onto him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as you kissed him back.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, and you wanted to promise him that he wouldn’t—that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. But something about the way he said it made you hesitate, made you wonder what he wasn’t telling you.

“Logan…” you started, your voice soft. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His hand dropped from your face, and he took a step back, his expression guarded once again. The walls he’d let down just moments ago seemed to be rising back up.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he said finally, his voice low. “I’ve lost people before. People I cared about. I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but there was something else there too—something unspoken. “Logan… who did you lose?”

His eyes flickered with pain, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he just shook his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You wanted to press him, to understand, but you also knew that Logan wasn’t someone who opened up easily. So instead, you just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. He stiffened at first, but then his arms slowly came around you, pulling you close as if he was afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” you whispered against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that was all you could offer him. And for now, it seemed to be enough.

---

You and Ida sat in the back of the rattling carriage, bundled against the cold, the wheels creaking beneath the weight of your bags from the market. The late afternoon sky was heavy with clouds, promising rain before nightfall and a storm by morning.

“Supposed to come down hard tomorrow,” Ida said, clutching her shawl tighter. “Glad we got everything done now. Don’t wanna be caught in that mess.”

You smiled, shifting a bag of potatoes off your lap. “It’ll be nice to have an excuse to stay in and rest. Logan’s been after me about taking it easy anyway.”

Ida gave you a knowing look, her brow lifting. “That man likes you, Y/N. More than you think.”

You shrugged, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “I know he cares. He’s just… different. Keeps to himself.”

“He’s different, alright,” Ida muttered, peering out the carriage window. “But he’s not the type to care about someone without good reason. Don’t let that one get away.”

You didn’t respond, but your thoughts drifted to Logan—how he had kissed you that night, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. There was something ancient in his touch, like he had carried the weight of loss for far too long. You didn’t fully understand it, but you felt it—something deeper than words or time.

The carriage jolted suddenly, jerking you forward in your seat. The horse up front whinnied, wild and panicked.

“Whoa!” the driver shouted, yanking hard on the reins.

You clutched Ida’s arm, your heart racing. “What’s going on?”

The driver cursed, standing in his seat to get a better look. “The damn harness snapped! The horse—”

Before he could finish, the horse bolted, the broken leather straps slapping wildly behind it. The carriage lurched, and you and Ida were thrown sideways. The wheels screamed as they spun out of control, the driver shouting as he fought to keep it steady.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

The world tilted violently as the carriage careened off the road, slamming into a ditch. Bags spilled across the floor, and you hit your shoulder hard against the side wall. Ida’s scream filled your ears, but the noise was drowned out by the thunder of the collapsing carriage, wood splintering and wheels buckling beneath the weight.

And then—nothing.

The carriage stopped, shuddering to a halt in a twisted heap at the bottom of the ditch. The rain started, light at first, pattering against the wreckage.

---

Logan was walking back toward your tenement building, the collar of his coat turned up against the cold drizzle, when he saw it—just beyond the next block, down by the road.

The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.

A carriage, overturned, one of the wheels still spinning lazily. The horse was gone, its reins dangling uselessly from the harness. People were gathering, but no one dared approach the wreckage yet.

Logan’s heart stopped. He knew—he just knew.

His feet moved before he could think. He sprinted toward the wreck, rain falling harder now, soaking through his clothes. His boots hit the muddy road with heavy thuds, splashing water as he ran faster than any ordinary man should.

By the time he reached the scene, a bystander had climbed down, trying to pry the splintered door open. Logan shoved him aside without a word, claws itching under his skin, ready to tear the door off if need be.

“Someone’s inside!” the man stammered. “Two women—”

Logan didn’t wait. His hands found the edge of the door, and with a growl of effort, he yanked it off the hinges. Inside the crumpled interior, he saw you, half-buried beneath scattered bags.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, raw and frantic. He dropped to his knees and pulled you free, cradling you in his arms.

You stirred, barely conscious, your head lolling against his chest. Blood streaked your temple, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Logan…?” you whispered, confused, your hand weakly grasping his coat.

“I got you,” Logan said, his voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.” But even as he said it, dread gnawed at him—this wasn’t fine. It was happening again.

Ida groaned nearby, struggling to sit up, but Logan’s focus was locked on you. He pressed a hand against your side, where your ribs felt wrong under his touch. He could feel the heat of your blood seeping into his fingers.

“No, no, no…” Logan whispered, shaking his head. The storm raged around him, but all he could hear was the shallow rasp of your breathing.

You looked up at him, your gaze unfocused, but your lips curled into the faintest smile. “I told you… I’d rest…”

“Don’t,” Logan begged, his forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. You hear me? Stay.”

You blinked slowly, your hand slipping from his coat. “I… tried…”

Logan clenched his jaw, biting down hard against the scream building in his chest. His healing mutation would keep him alive through anything—but it couldn’t save you. Not now. Not again.

He kissed your forehead, his breath shuddering. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. Not like this…”

Your breath hitched once, then stopped.

“No,” Logan whispered, rocking you in his arms. “No, no, no…”

His hands trembled as he pulled you closer, your lifeless body limp against him. The rain poured down harder, drumming on the wreckage, but Logan didn’t care. He sat there, holding you, feeling the familiar, soul-crushing emptiness settle in his chest like an old wound tearing open again.

And still, he held you. Because this time, just like 26 years ago, he couldn’t let go.

in this chapter logan is 48 years old and reader is around 22-24 years old. just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time

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