#remember the episode with the envelopes?

[reidiot]

it's like, i want to do something, and then i remember a criminal minds episode

[aubvrns]

you sleep so soundly, baby

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

Synopsis — You struggled to keep yourself awake to wait for Wanda, resulting to her finding you asleep on the couch. She proves how worth it she is to wait for.

Tags — Fluff (because I was happy today), Cuddling (because I am so touch deprived), Mentions of doing something more than cuddling (because I am a freak)

Note — Short, but I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

You remember trying to keep your eyes open.

But the soft, white covers of your pristine blanket betrayed you as the clock struck 11:00 PM. A faint anxiety lingered as you awaited Wanda's return from her mission, eager to be close to her after a week apart.

You did everything you could to stay awake—drinking two cups of coffee, watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, and scrolling through your old pictures on your phone.

Looking at those memories brought a smile to your face, even if it made you a bit emotional. You let out a heavy exhale and adjusted your position on the sofa, tucking your arms under the covers.

The last thing you remember is the thud of your phone hitting the bridge of your nose, followed by a sharp pain. But due to your extreme fatigue, you shrugged it off and fell asleep anyway.

—

“You look so freaking cute.”

You stir at the sound of someone whispering in your ear and reach for the covers, but someone else has already pulled them over you. Your head is no longer resting on the armrest of the couch; instead, it’s resting on a soft pillow.

You slowly flutter your eyes open, and familiar green eyes meet yours. The sight of her bright smile makes your heart skip a beat. As you rub my eyes, strong arms pull you closer to her warmth.

“Hey, you.”

Wanda's raspy voice brushed against your ear as her chin met your cheek, kissing your lips softly. “I missed you so much, my baby.”

Letting out a chuckle, you move yourself closer to her. Your arms wrapped around her torso as her hands lingered around your waist. You assumed she was just as tired as you and that both of you were now lying on the couch, latched onto each other.

“I don’t think I’m exactly baby-sized.”

You responded with a playful quip, causing her to burst into laughter. Without needing to think, you nestled your face into the soft curve of her neck, enveloped by the warmth of her presence. Her sweet, comforting scent of vanilla wafted around you, wrapping you in a soothing embrace that overwhelmed your senses and sent dizziness through your mind.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. I could’ve just slipped under the covers with you the moment I got home.”

You felt her fingers gently running through your hair, a soft touch that sends shivers down your spine. Her smile feels warm and exciting as you hug, bodies fitting together perfectly.

“I wanted to wait for you. ” You mumble against her neck, placing a gentle kiss before nuzzling into her again.

Your words made her heart flutter. Wanda gazed at you with a warm, affectionate smile that lit up her entire face, her eyes sparkling with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “Go to sleep. Don’t make me love you even more than I already do.”

You roll your eyes playfully, slowly pulling yourself to sit up.

“How much do you love me?” You whisper like you were spying on someone, eyes gleaming with amusement.

You knew she loved you as much as you did. To love someone is worth the effort of pulling them from sitting to lying back with you, and that is exactly what she did.

Wanda grinned, sides of her mouth turning upwards as she sultrily whispered back, “Want me to show you how much I do?”

Oh, she’s good.

“Not really in the mood right now but okay.” You bite back, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before tucking yourself back into the comfortable blanket.

The weight of it was pressing against you, but it was to keep you warm. You knew she was worth waiting for, even if it meant the depravity of the lack of sleep.

“Boring.” Wanda pouts, kissing you back. She waves her fingers gently as she threaded red energy amongst the air, closing all the lights in your home.

The covers weren’t as heavy the moment she hugged you. Wanda made your heart race and your mind dizzy all at once.

You stare at her, the moon reflecting softly at the glint of her eyes. Whispering softly, “I hope it’s you I wait for everyday.”

Wanda hummed in response, astute to knowing that to hope for it is unnecessary. It was already certain.

“I love you, too.”

—

[cameforstuff]

Hate Mail

Stan had gotten used to reading and replying to piles of mail in a day, slowed by carefully deciphering the messy crayon so he could give the best response. It would usually take him several minutes to think of the perfect doodle to slip in with it. Sometimes he would scrap it several times before he was happy with the result.

His last letter was from a little girl from California asking if it could rain soda she poured it into the ocean. He’d written a polite answer explaining that it would be bad for the sea animals, and a simple experiment she could do with evaporation instead. After a bit of thought he drew Dr. Pine sitting a a table chatting with a sea turtle in purple crayon at the bottom. He was almost glad he had not improved his drawing skills since he was twelve. 

The next letter shocked him a bit. He almost set it aside when he saw it, thinking a bill had been slipped with the fan letters. Yet there on the front, in almost obnoxious cursive, was the typical address to Dr. Pine. There was no return address.

Another odd thing about the letter was just how carefully it had been put together. The wording straight and the envelope closed seemingly perfectly. Yet the bottom corner was scrunched like the writer had been holding it like their life depended on it. Stan opened the letter, to his surprise there was two. 

The first was like any letter from a kid, slightly messy handwriting gushing about their favorite part of the last episode. The ‘Tate Mcgucket’ seemed to really enjoy them discussing the lake’s food web and listed a few of his favorite fish. 

The second letter however was not as kind. It listed 12 inaccuracies in the episode. Each going in lengthy detail. He could only skim it as the text shrunk to save room. The explanations were familiar in a way. Kind of like how he tried to explain things, but laced with passive aggressive remarks. Hate mail was a thing he had gotten from angsty teenagers and upset parents on occasion, but this letter felt different. It was addressed by a ‘Mr. Mystery PhD, A real one unlike yours.’ He stared at the letter for several minutes unsure of what to do with it. 

He moved back to the first letter, replying to it like any other. Drawing a Dr. Pine riding a large bass. He quickly popped open a book for references, this kid seemed like the type to appreciate the effort. Then he looked back at the other letter. A bit of annoyance now when he remembered the letter had no return address. He pinned both to a the corkboard above his desk and moved on to replying to other letters.

He decided he was going to get his reply to Tate, not only because he was determined to reply to every letter, but also to spite this ‘Mr Mystery.’ He may be right that Stan is not a real doctor, but he was a man to stubborn for his own good

______

And thus a saga of mail exchanges begins. Where? Uh I lost it in shipping, you know how mail goes.

Forgot to link the post that this is based on.

[cumironi]

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo’s blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo’s other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn’t find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn’t dare. you wouldn’t dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo’s eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon’s gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that’s how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wishes you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it’s just ‘his’.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we’d end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the ‘p’ as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people’s skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.”

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of ‘knowing look’ before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it’s been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don’t— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn’t make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that’s not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn’t dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn’t.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

gojo’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it’s all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can’t give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn’t know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you’ve always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don’t say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he’ll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i’m destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that’s. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it’s a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it’s unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

gojo reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it’s hurting. “i’m so happy for you,” your smile didn’t reach your eyes. someone once said that people’s hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it’s broken, shattered before him.

please don’t be happy for me, be miserable, so i don’t have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i’m so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn’t believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

[oceantornadoo]

best friend johnny x first time on leave out of base getting to be loud and rough? pls? 🥹

best friend!johnny mactavish x f!reader dubcon somno SMUT unedited

someone’s knocking on your door. loudly.

you stumble over the blankets you’re cocooned in, then sigh when you look through the peephole. a bloody mohawk is behind it.

“bonnie.” soap gives you his signature smirk, magnified by the fish eye of your peephole. you pull back, not bothering to fix the pillow crease on your face or change from the pajamas you're wearing, and unlock the door. "i didn't know you were in town, johnny." you say by way of greeting, scanning the dark jeans that, despite being straight cut, cling to his thighs and the t-shirt that seems molded to his pecs, brown chest hair struggling to not peek out.

johnny shrugs, pushing past the door and into your entry way. you didn't realize he knew where you lived, but he looks oddly comfortable in the space. he toes off his shoes without asking before barging inward, taking in every detail.

you take it in with him. the cocoon you'd built for yourself on the couch, steam escaping from the fresh cup of tea you'd just brewed. a mindless sitcom playing on the TV, the sporadic laugh track cutting through the silence. when you get home after a mission, even a less brutal one, you crave that sense of normalcy in sitcoms. family drama and sibling pranks, the inevitable kiss and make up at the end of every thirty-minute episode. johnny's opened your damn fridge, only containing leftovers from last night's takeout and a bottle of wine you picked up from the corner store. he's oddly silent, no jabbering in your ear as he closes the fridge and roams to your bedroom and bathroom. you feel incredibly lucky to have recently moved into a one room apartment - if your old roommates had seen such a specimen of a man enter your space, they would've pounced instantly.

"nice place." he finally emerges from your bedroom, the silhouette of something in his jean pocket taking too much brain power for you to process. "thanks. i haven't had time to decorate. i thought you were going to glasgow?" he'd said something about going home during exfil and you'd listened halfheartedly, trying to fight the adrenaline crash but eventually leaning your head on his shoulder as the heli rocked you to sleep. wasn't glasgow home?

johnny doesn't answer, bullheaded as he is. simply stands in front of you, dark blue eyes wide as they take in how you look after a goodnight's rest. sleepy and cottonheaded and comfy, content to rot the day away. he takes one step, then another, before murmuring "c'mere." you go willingly, letting him tuck you under his chin as he wraps his arms around you, blanket and all. you suck in his familiar scent of man and pine and soap, a bit cleaner than his usual sweat-stained musk. "i don't remember giving you my new address." you murmur into his shirt. "ye left out a letter from yer new landlord, hen. practically invited me righ' in." he's talking about the letter in your temporary quarters, alone, but you don't argue.

"i'm too tired to do anything, if that's what you're here for." you say half-heartedly, one last line of defense before he sinks his claws into the only space you have without him. johnny-less, no heady scent or clothes left out to remind you of the contradiction that is your best friend. "let's watch yer show. dinnae mind if i finish yer leftovers, doe?"

and that's how you fall asleep: feet in johnny's lap as you watch your show, ignoring how his blunt nails sneak under your sweats to scratch your calves. he says little quips about the show that make you snort, burrowing further into your cocoon as warmth and safety envelop you. rain pelts the windows and johnny makes no move to leave, even when the hour gets late and your eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake.

you wake syrup slow, a gigantic weight pinning you to the couch. he's mouthing at your neck and it tickles, but when you try to bat him away, you find your arm too heavy to move. "johnny..." you whimper. that's when you take stock of the wetness between your thighs, nimble fingers stroking your clit and working your hole open. it's utterly relaxing, your brain still dreaming, so you moan when he hits a certain spot. your limbs are so loose that the dots connect - you came while you were sleeping. "louder, hen. we're nae in a tent." he orders into your neck, pressing hard onto your clit. you shriek at the sudden stimulation and he laughs, the vibrations going straight to your core. he does it again and again, knowing your body better than you. when he plunges in a third finger and crooks it just so, finding that spot inside, air rushes out in a woosh as you keen. "pretty sounds, pretty girl." he praises you as your second orgasm washes over, body sinking into the couch.

"am nae gonna last, bonnie." he admits as you hear a zipper squeak, the rustling of denim against blankets. the fingers in you pull out and you whine at the loss. "ah ken, baby. one sec, let me jus-" he taps against your sopping hole, a warning, before pushing into the heat of your legs. your hips buck up, helping him in, as you search for his lips. you find the nape of his neck and tug until his face is above yours, no longer hidden. "why aren't you in glasgow?" the question has been bugging you, unsure if this is just a pitstop or entertainment while his flight gets delayed. he's your best friend, sure, but you're worried this has become a transaction in his claims of "no rules, just us." it irks you, to think you've lost your role as a friend because you opened your legs.

"nae. said ah was goin' home." he punctuates it with his first full thrust. you gasp, not sure if its at his words or the oh-so-right fit of his cock in your cunt. "oh. i-fuck, johnny. is this-" he cuts you off with a kiss, messy and wet as he licks into your mouth. "dinnae ask questions ye ken th' answer to, bon." he says like a promise, working himself into you as he finds a good rhythm. all you can do is whine and moan, months of having to keep quiet bubbling over the surface as you melt into him. he was right- it doesn't take long. you're pliable from your orgasms, content to let him use you until he comes, warmth spilling from your thighs. he doesn't pull out, instead collapsing into you with his head in the crook of your neck like before.

you squirm at the stickiness between your thighs, but he just clucks his tongue at you like you imagine he would to a farm animal. "'m tryin' to sleep. be good." you sigh and resign yourself to sleep, yet again under the spell that is your best friend, john mactavish.

more best friend!johnny here!

-

this ask is literally from months ago, my bad!!!!!!!

pov got ghosted so im diving into writing again.

[talksungchan]

strangers who knew each other very well 𐙚 jung sungchan

༄.° WORD COUNT: 18.6k ༄.° PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader ༄.° TAGS & WARNINGS: exes!au, angst, fluff, slightly aged up riize ༄.° SONGSPO: scott street - phoebe bridgers ; woojooin - seo youngju ; spring into summer - lizzy mcalpine

༄.° SYNOPSIS: you're back in town for the first time in four years because your best friend is getting married. it sounds easy enough, apart from the fact that you broke the best man's heart 4 years ago and haven't dared shown your face since. ༄.° NOTES: inspired by hong sijun and son jua from melo movie aka my all time favourite k-drama second couple !! the title comes from the episode that focuses on them in the drama <3 this is kinda similar to my other second chance romance sungchan fic, but i think i wrote it differently enough to be a worthwhile separate fic :>

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i. anyway, don't be a stranger

You knew this day was coming, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

The train screeches to a halt and the passengers around you get up in a buzz to collect their belongings and crowd around the double doors.

You watch stoically as they step out of the train for an adventure in the big city or to return to their busy lives. You stay still, clutching your carry-on suitcase and just wait, maybe even until you're kicked off the train.

Seoul Station is the last stop on the route, but you're in half a mind to jump platforms and get on the next train going to somewhere you hoped was far away from here.

"Ma'am," you hear a voice call out to you kindly and you turn to face a young woman with a slightly concerned look on her face, "Is this your stop? The train ends here."

You blink, "Yeah, it is. Sorry- I'll get going."

"Have a good day," she wishes you sweetly, but you know that's a luxury you will find hard to come by these days.

You pry your large suitcase from the luggage compartment and step out into the station.  You're still underground, but it hurts like no other to finally step foot in your home for the first time in years. Breathing this air doesn't feel refreshing; it feels like you're suffocating.

Sluggishly, you navigate the maze that was the station until you surface to the public area. You're not that familiar with the place anymore; it's been a long time, but you make it up to where you had arranged to meet your best friend, finding her already there.

"My Y/N," Hana envelops you into a tight, warm hug as soon as she lays eyes on your solemn face, "How are you?"

"I'm good, Hana," you reassure her as best as you could muster.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't get you from the airport," she apologises as she pries your luggage out of your grip, "Taro had the car, but he's on his way to pick us up outside."

You faintly remember her saying something about last minute wedding errands he had to run that precluded your best friend being able to pick you up herself off the plane.

"I could have made it to your house by myself," you chide, "I used to live here, after all."

Hana's smile falters for a second at your voluntary mention of the past, but she brushes you off, "I wanted to welcome you back."

You notice her avoidance of the word home and you're thankful because a reminder of what was once a happy memory has turned into the opposite is something you've been trying to forget.

She leads you out of the busy station and to a pick-up zone outside. It's a sweltering summer day with the sun beating down relentlessly. It's something you haven't missed about Seoul after trading your extreme weathers for the grey skies across the world.

"Look, Y/N," Hana begins hesitantly as you watch the cars zoom past you, "Thank you for coming all the way here and doing this for me. I know it's gonna be hard for you, but I'm still here for you, okay?"

You knock shoulders lightly, "What kind of a best friend would I be if I missed your wedding? We've been planning our weddings since we learned what one was."

Hana chuckles lightly, mind flashing back to the days you spent designing wedding dresses and choosing songs for your wedding playlists, "I know right?"

You fall into silence as you both reminisce. Everyone thought you were going to get married first. You always wanted to get married young, ever since you met your first love at 14 and started dating at 16. You had everything you wanted planned out- the cake, the flowers, the shoes, the gifts, the groom.

Life doesn't always work out the way you want it to- you learned that at 22.

"I'm an adult, Han," you exhale, "I promise it'll all be okay. I can do this."

"You're the best, Y/N. I really missed you, by the way," Hana admits as her eyes lock onto a car.

It's only been 7 months since you last saw each other, but you spent the first 22 years of your lives practically conjoined until you moved away 4 years ago. You'll never forget the shock and joy you experienced when she turned up at your door alone out of nowhere with a rock on her finger and a gift box asking you to be her maid of honour for her wedding set in 7 months time.

"I missed you too," you return fondly.

A large, black car stops in front of you and the window rolls down to reveal a face you haven't seen in a while.

"If it isn't the Y/N back in Seoul," Shotaro flashes you his famous smile from the driver's side. You wave at him excitedly and drag your bags to the boot that he's opened from the inside. It's a busy road and he can't hop out and help, but between you and Hana, you fit the bags into the spacious boot. It's not even that much- you've only packed to stay two weeks.

You climb into the backseat and Shotaro turns around to take in the fact that you're really here. You reach over to squeeze his shoulder, "I haven't got to say congratulations in person yet, so congratulations on the wedding. You bet that we're going to have another best friend talk soon."

Shotaro and Hana choke in surprise at your menacing words. The Japanese man crinkles his eyelids in amusement, "I wouldn't have expected anything less, but thank you Y/N."

When they started dating years ago, you had cornered Shotaro at a house party and warned him so terrifyingly about what you would do if he ever broke your best friend's heart that he couldn't look you in the eye for the rest of the week. It was fair anyway, considering the talk your own best friend had given your first love when you started dating.

The drive to their house was a fair journey that you spent with your eyes screwed tight pretending to be asleep. You couldn't bare the thought of having to look out the window and catch the familiar streets you had grown up on and made so many memories on. This trip was always going to end in heartbreak for you, but you wish to delay the onset.

Hana calls your name softly when you arrive and you do a slow-blink to try to convince her. You don't know if she believes it, but she doesn't say anything otherwise.

It's weird that you haven't stepped foot in her adult home after you made her childhood home your second one and lived in the same apartment through your college years. You can still picture her teenage bedroom with the pink walls and the Fin.K.L poster across her double bed. You spent hours and hours in your college rooms eating ice cream and watching films together. Now, you don't even know the number outside her door.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Hana smiles proudly as she unlocks the front door.

They live in a very nice area, afforded by Shotaro's idol choreographer salary and Hana's lawyer income. It's obviously a beautiful home, decorated very cosy with sprinkles of their personality dotted around.

They show you to the guest bedroom and point out all the items Hana prepared for your two week stay in the house, despite the fact that in ten days' time, they were jetting off to their honeymoon the morning after the wedding. She had put together an adorable and thoughtful welcome basket with everything you might need and your heart clenches at the kindness of your best friend.

Over these years, Hana has been patient in coming to you versus you coming to her. Your blatant refusal to come back to Korea has limited your live meet-ups to once a year, twice if you could find some wiggle room in your budgets, but her wedding meant you couldn't put it off any longer and had to face your fears.

While Hana was your best friend, Shotaro had his own best friend acting as his best man. You always knew this was coming- even from the moment you introduced your best friend to your first love's best friend in freshman year of college.

He wasn't the only reason you were avoiding coming back, but he was the main one. You'd like to think that time heals all and maybe it has, or maybe it's just shoved that little pocket of pain deeper and deeper out of sight until the day you finally are forced to face it. Unfortunately for you, that day has come.

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Hana was kind enough to give you the night to settle before everything kicked into full force. She knew it would be too much for you to get off the plane and have to face your ex-boyfriend, so she pushed the meeting that required both of you as much as she could until there was no time left.

You woke up bright and early, although your stomach was in ropes at the thought of seeing him again. You hoped that the very long list of errands you had to do would distract you enough from all the emotions swirling in your stomach.

It was only 1pm, but you had already visited the bridal shop to do a fitting of your maid of honour dress, considering you couldn't try it on when you were over 5000 miles away. Thankfully, it didn't need a lot of alterations and you could pick it up in the next few days. She continued distracting you by trying on her wedding dress in front of you, causing you to shed a few tears. You were virtually present during her dress hunt, but seeing it for the first time in person really made it sink in that your very best friend in this world was getting married.

The very next thing in your agenda was a meeting with the wedding planner to finalise the timings of the day. You were going to meet at a café- a safe and public space for you to finally see your ex-boyfriend after a number of years that you wished you stopped counting.

Hana parks her car along the road opposite the café and the second you stepped out the car, you were slapped across the face by the side-profile of your first love through the large window, a wide smile on his features as he chatted with his best friend.

Hana squeezes your hand, "Tell me if it gets too much. I know it's gonna be hard."

Sungchan looks so familiar that your heart squeezes at the sight of him. It's the body that you fell asleep across for years on end, the hair you used to run your fingers through when you talked late at night, the smile that made your heart race every day- it was still him.

Your breath hitches when he begins to turn in your direction. Before you can make eye contact, Hana tugs at you to enter the café, murmuring reassurances towards you that she was going to be here for you- even at her own wedding events, she was still being selfless.

"Hana, Y/N," Shotaro calls the two of you over as soon as the door jingles open and he spots you, "I ordered your drinks."

Hana squeals at the sight of the indulgent hot chocolates, but worriedly looks over at you to see your reaction. You're looking down at your feet and Sungchan is staring straight up at you.

"Hey, Sungchan. How are you?" Hana chuckles awkwardly, tugging you to her side to sit down at the round table. When the wedding planner arrives, they'd sit between you and Sungchan, so you could have that distance.

"Good, Hana, thanks," he breaths out as the corners of his mouth drop, "Hi, Y/N. It's been a while."

Your eyes shoot up to meet his, "Uhm, yeah. Hi, Sungchan."

It feels like you haven't said that name out loud in years- it brought you too much pain before. You're immediately saved by the wedding planner, thankfully, who appears out of nowhere and apologises profusely for her delay. She denies ordering a coffee, and begins to spread binder, papers and tablets all over the table.

Hana squeezes your hand under the table and your eyes point down to your thighs.

"Maid of honour and best man, I take it? It's nice to meet you both," the planner Jian smiles sweetly after catching her breath, "How'd you guys know the couple?"

You nod with a terse smile, "Childhood best friends."

Sungchan lets you finish before he bumps shoulder with Shotaro, "College roommates. We've been attached at the hip ever since."

"Looking forward to your speeches on the day then," she muses, "Shall we get started?"

You focus your efforts into concentrating through the meeting and trying to not let the pit growing in your stomach distract you. You were here to help out your best friend and her soon-to-be husband, so you gave your opinion when you felt it necessary and not much more.

You haven't been physically present through the past few months, but Hana had clued you in to everything she was doing as it was happening. You'd been discussing your dream days for years on end, so you felt like you had good opinions for the final touches of the plan.

After two hours going through every single detail, you wrapped up and Hana was beginning to talk about what she was going to cook for dinner.

"We have some salmon in the freezer, I think. That's enough for the three of us," she links arms with you as soon as you stand up, practically dragging you out of the store to avoid any more time alone with your ex-boyfriend.

"I was gonna go home after this, remember? My parents are unfortunately expecting me," you remind her regrettably. It's been a while since you saw your family- maybe a year now?

"Oh. Do you want me to come? I can drive you! I haven't seen your parents in a long time-"

You hear a cough behind you, "I'm heading that way actually. It's my dad's birthday soon so we're gonna have a meal at home. I can take you, but only if you're comfortable with that."

Sungchan's confident and unwavering tone freezes you on the spot, your eye moving to the side to gauge your best friend's reaction. Her eyes transform into sorrow as she presses her lips together. Hana looks at Sungchan, "It's okay, I can take her. I want to."

It makes sense why Sungchan would offer a lift practicality-wise. His family lived on the next road over from your house and you used to walk to school together after he moved to your school at 14.

Shotaro sighs behind Sungchan, "Hana, we still have that Zoom meeting with the venue co-ordinators. It's in like 40 minutes."

Hana curses under her breath, "Well then I'm sure Y/N will be fine taking the subway. Right?"

You're looking down at your feet, unable to even see the expression on Sungchan's face. You don't know his motivation to offer you a ride 45 minutes across the city to your old neighbourhood, and as pure as you know his heart is, you genuinely don't know how you could cope sitting in a confined space with your first love for that amount of time.

In the corner of your eyes, you see him shrug nonchalantly, "Whatever's easiest for you. See you guys soon."

You lift your head up in time to watch him wave goodbye and turn around. His face is seemingly neutral, but you hadn't spent 8 years of your life learning everything there was to possibly know about him to not be able to read the emotions behind his eyes at the very moment.

"Wait, Sungchan," you slip out of your friend's grasp, "I'll come with you."

Hana catches your wrist and hisses under her breath, "Y/N, what? Are you sure about this?"

You try to give her a convincing smile, "I'll text you when I'm coming back, okay? I don't think I'll be too late anyway."

Shotaro waves you off with a puzzled glance and you do a small jog to catch up to the distance he traversed with his long legs.

Sungchan gives you a half smile and shoves his hands into his pocket, "What made you change your mind?"

You nibble on your lower lip, "It's about to be rush hour on the subway. It'll be impossible to get a seat."

Sungchan nods at your response and points out his car across the street. It's a lot nicer and newer than the car he used to take you around Seoul in. You wondered briefly when he got rid of it.

Wordlessly, you enter into the passenger side, buckling your seatbelt and trying to keep your eyes trained in front of you. If you thought too much about the situation you put yourself in, you feared you might jump out of the moving car.

He turned on the radio to a quiet, but comfortable volume. A new song that's dominating the charts is playing as he reverses out of his spot and joins the cars on the roads.

"When did you get back?" Sungchan reluctantly begins.

You were hoping for a silent car ride, but you knew that was just in your dreams, "Yesterday evening."

"How was your flight?"

"Long. It's about 13 hours straight in the air," you hum.

"Is it? Wouldn't know- I've never been to London," it's not obvious, but there's something deeper that you can't figure out in his tone- is it snide? Snark?

"The climate's quite different over there," you reply back shortly, "It was hard to get used to."

"There must have been something you loved there so much that it kept you away for 4 years," he says, "Or something you hate here."

You swallow nervously, "Can we not do this, Sungchan?"

He scoffs, "When will we ever?"

"Is it necessary? I thought we said what we needed to say back then," you huff, letting your eyes flutter close in frustration. You should've known this wasn't going to be an amicable ride- that that disappointment in his eyes when he was walking away wasn't something to latch onto and hope, "I'm only here for 2 weeks. Can we just be civil until their wedding? That's what I'm here for."

"So even after 4 years, you have nothing to say to me?" his voice cracks in the most delicate way and if you looked to the side, you'd see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel tightly.

"What do you want me to say, Sungchan?" you sigh in defeat.

"I don't know, Y/N," he runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly, "Do you regret it? Leaving?"

Your heart constricts in your chest as you shook your head, "I can't."

"What?"

"I can't regret leaving. Otherwise everything I did it for and did there becomes nothing," you confess, "I shouldn't."

Sungchan exhales a puff of air into the car, "This is gonna be so much harder than I thought it would be."

You agree silently and don't say another word for the whole drive.

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ii. and i can wish all that i want, but it won't bring us together

Shotaro and Hana decided to forgo the traditional bachelor and bachelorette parties. They themselves were far too busy for that, let alone thinking about the time and effort it would take to coordinate 6+ people on each side to do an activity or vacation. Plus, on Hana's side, some of her bridesmaids weren't all too familiar with each other having come from different periods of her life, so she didn't think that cooping all of you up in a vacation home a week before her wedding was worth her energy. She loved you all separately, but that didn't mean you would all have to be best friends.

Thus, the couple decided on a joint dinner hosted in their home just to get everyone acquainted with each other. You'd spent the afternoon with the other girls picking out jewellery you wanted to all wear for the wedding and returned home to find a spread of food prepared by the private chef the couple hired.

Despite the fact that you were dreading to face Sungchan again after the disastrous ride home, you were also excited to see Shotaro's other groomsmen, who were also old friends of yours from both high school and college.

When you entered their home again after your group shopping trip, you were immediately crushed by a tall figure.

"Y/N-noona," you hear Anton sniff as he hugged you, "Do you still remember me?"

You gasp and let out a nervous chuckle, "Don't be silly- hey Chanyoung. Long time no see, right?"

One of the worst parts about your breakup with Sungchan was having to relinquish your relationship with the boys too. It wasn't that they had to choose sides or anything, but you just thought it was easier for everyone involved. Of course, you still texted them occasionally on birthday, holidays and randomly throughout the year, but you hadn't seen any of them other than Shotaro since the breakup.

"Stop hogging her. We all haven't seen her in four years," Seunghan bumps Anton out of the way to envelop you into a comforting hug, "I almost forgot what you looked like, noona. You don't post on SNS."

"Has anyone entertained the idea that she's actually a British spy now?" Eunseok smirks as he takes his turn hugging you, "Welcome back Y/N."

Before Shotaro came into the picture in college, Eunseok and Sungchan were the first package deal. They were the closest in age to one another and were family friends growing up. Eunseok was the reason Sungchan moved to your school when his family relocated to the area. They adopted Shotaro in college and found the other boys along the way.

You've known Eunseok as long as you've known Sungchan and he was one of the ones who took the breakup the hardest out of all of your friends. Hana was your best friend since childhood and Eunseok was Sungchan's- that's when it felt like people had to take sides, no matter how close you also were with Eunseok.

"I missed you guys," you whisper lowly into Eunseok's embrace.

"You should have invited us to London," Sohee sniffles when he takes his turn hugging you. Wonbin joins the two of you in a group hug.

"Well then I'm inviting you now. I'd like to take you to Buckingham Palace so you can see your twins," you joke at Sohee, ruffling his hair, "Bin, how are you?"

"I'm great, noona. Honestly," he smiles softly at you. You've never had the deepest nor most complex relationship with Wonbin, but you take comfort knowing you're both satisfied at the low-maintenance friendship you've formed.

You realise quickly that a member of the wedding party is missing when you spot Shotaro mingling with the bridesmaids. Eunseok seems to read your mind immediately, "Sungchan's in the kitchen."

"Did he tell you?"

"About the car ride?" Eunseok grimaces and you mirror his expression, "Everyone knew this was gonna be hard. Neither of you should force anything or expect anything from yourselves."

You sigh, "I know. Doing that just makes everything worse. Besides, this week is about Taro and Hana. I don't want to draw attention from them or cause any problems that might affect them too."

Eunseok nods understandingly, "I guess so. But just think about yourself okay? That's who should be the most important person to yourself always."

You spot Hana trying to beckon you over, so you excuse yourself from Eunseok and wander over to your best friend, who slides her arm around your waist.

Four out of the 5 other bridesmaids are all her friends from the law firm she began working at since graduation 4 years ago. The other one is her cousin who lives in the opposite end of the country, but who she visited every summer and holidays. You're all around the same age, but you haven't had the chance to meet them or even speak to them outside of the bridesmaid group-chat Hana put you all in 6 months ago until today.

"How's it seeing the boys again?" Shotaro hands you a flute of what you think is a mimosa.

"I missed them," you admit simply with a small smile.

"You went to college with all of them, right?" Taehee questions curiously, "You really haven't seen any of them since you moved to London?"

"Taro and Hana have visited me a few times in London, but that's it," you press your lips together, "It was just a lot of things that stopped me from coming back."

You haven't said anything to the other girls about your ex-boyfriend, mainly because this week was not about you and your finicky relationship, so they're all none-the-wiser to your situation.

"Shall we go over to the dining room?" Hana suggests, sniffing the air when the chef throws open the dining room door and the smell of the food floods out, "I'm so hungry!"

Their usual dining room table has been replaced with a temporary set up for the 13 of you in a large, round table. You stick by Hana's side and immediately take the seat next to her, sighing in relief when Eunseok takes the other seat beside you. You try not to look up, but you practically feel Sungchan's presence in the room when he enters and takes a seat on the other side of the table, flanked by Seunghan and Anton.

When the starter is brought out, you're engaged in a conversation with Eunseok and the bridesmaid beside him about the places you've travelled in Europe. Mina's well-travelled herself and Eunseok is far too fascinated hearing what you've been getting up to since you left.

"Did you visit Paris? You must have," Mina wonders, "It's so close to London- I'd be going every weekend!"

Your heart drops and you swallow, "No, not since I left Korea."

"You've visited before?"

You hold yourself back from looking up, "In the past, just once."

"Isn't it lovely? It's one of my favourite cities in the world," Mina gushes excitedly, "I love art and museums, so Paris is my element!"

You recall back to the summer before your senior year of college and the week you spent running around Paris in the evening, dancing along the Seine and holding your first love under the moonlight. Every time you were invited to Paris since then, something would stop you going- it would only remind you of the most beautiful week you had spent with Sungchan as your anniversary trip.

By the time the entrées arrive, the conversation has moved onto updates from Eunseok- how much his little brother has grown since you last saw him, how his family got an adorable new dog and how his parents are getting older. Your families were friends too, just like Hana's family and Sungchan's family. It's a shame you missed out on so much, but you know it's your fault anyway.

You make it through dinner by ignoring that steady thrum in your veins and the pumping of your heart just being in the same room as the one who haunts your memories, but it becomes harder when the couple moves you into the living room to mingle and chat with flutes of mixed alcohol.

"We actually have a task to do for tonight," Hana smirks slyly as you all turn towards her, "We haven't actually figured out who you're gonna walk down the aisle with."

"We thought it'd be better to choose after seeing who looks good together," Shotaro shrugs, "Height differences and that."

Hana claps her hands definitely, "Okay, everyone just go stand with a partner and then me and Taro will shuffle as we see fit."

You freeze, having not been informed of this by your best friend beforehand. With a glimpse of hope, you tug at Eunseok's sleeve and he looks at you with a confused glance.

Jiwoo frowns at you across the room, "Wait- I get it for the rest of us but the maid of honour and best man are walking down together, right?"

Your face probably mirrors Sungchan's - like a deer caught in headlights as you both begin to chuckle awkwardly.

Hana's eyes widen as she looks at you apologetically, "I suppose so. Though it doesn't have to be."

"It makes most sense that way," Taehee agrees beside Anton.

"Um, then Sungchan and Y/N, you guys can just sit down or help us match," Shotaro quickly splutters out.

Nodding in agreement, you float over to Hana's side again, like two opposite poles on a magnet. She smiles at you sheepishly and you subtly dismiss her. It's her wedding- you just had to suck it up. Sungchan takes a seat away from where you were standing, trying to busy himself on his phone.

In the end, it took an excessive amount of time to decide on the final pairings, made all the more difficult by the absence of the girls' heels that played a part in the decision-making. You had no idea that something so trivial could take up so much of an evening and cause such hilarious tiffs fuelled by wine. 

Hana gasps from the corner, "Wait, where's the camera? I want pictures of everyone for the scrapbook."

Shotaro retrieves a baby blue polaroid camera displayed on their book shelf and loads a new cartridge of film inside. Your heart is beating fast as Hana shoo's each couple against a deemed-aesthetic backdrop and snaps a single, quick photo of the two that prints out in just seconds.

Surely she wouldn't do that to you, right?

But when her head turns towards you and a soft, pleading smile graces her features, you're resigned to standing up and following the orders she's sending telepathically.

"Sungchan, c'mere. I need one of you and Y/N," Hana calls out gently.

Wordlessly, he rises from the spot he's been planted on for the better part of an hour and positions himself beside you, with a good distance separating your shoulders.

Hana raises the camera to her eye, but she clicks her tongue in frustration, "I can't get you both in."

"Just step backwards," Sungchan advises, his tone light, but with an edge.

"I want all the pictures at the same angle," she counters, "Just move a little closer together."

"Y/N won't bite, right?" Mina laughs jokingly, to which you try your best to give a convincing chuckle.

He shuffles a little closer to you, the fabric of your shirts brushing against each other delicately. You're focused on keeping the smile on your face as neutral and natural as possible, silently pleading your best friend with your eyes to hurry up.

She finally counts down and clicks the button, the flash blinding you for a split second. Before you could even fully regain your vision, Sungchan has already traversed the room to join Seunghan and Wonbin nosy through the bookshelf.

Ouch. He really wants nothing to do with you.

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iii. you left me no choice but to stay here forever

Exactly one week before the wedding, Hana bursts into your room with a panicked look.

"What's wrong?" you gasp at her state, scrambling up from the edge of the bed where you were scrolling lazily on your phone.

"Taro forgot to pick up the wedding rings," Hana pants out, clear frustration in her eyes, "The jeweller's going out of town tomorrow."

"Oh!" your own eyes widen, "Do you need me to go pick them up then?"

"Yeah, please! If you can," she smooths out the white dress she was wearing, "I'd do it but it's the opposite direction to where we need to go and we're already running hella late."

You stand up and steady her by her shoulders, "Don't worry about it. That's what I'm here for, yeah? To make your life easier."

Hana relaxes with a sigh of relief and pulls you into a hug, "What would I do without you?"

The couple were off to another one of their endless wedding appointments, which was seemingly going to take up their whole day. It was still just the morning, but Shotaro was running down the stairs already, calling for Hana to get in the car.

"I'll text you the address, okay? I'll also text the jeweller that you'll be coming," she smiles gratefully before disappearing out of the front door.

Instead of buying traditional wedding rings at a famous store, they decided to have their own personal set made that was completely tailor-made and customised for them at a small, local business. You thought it was sweet how they wanted to design the ring that would symbolise their union and love together instead of any old, generic piece of metal.

Taking the subway over to the store wasn't a bad experience- it was a hot walk over to the station, but the carriages were air conditioned and not terribly busy. It's a stark contrast to the hot, cramped and dirty tube of your current home city.

The jeweller's shop is in a part of the city near your old university; you used to frequent the area a lot, so you were experiencing major nostalgia walking the streets again after a long time. You even contemplated visiting your favourite stores and coffee shop after picking up the rings, hoping that taking a trip down memory lane won't hurt you too much.

When you reach the shop, it's empty save a couple sat across an attendant looking at rings together at a table in the corner. At the check-out desk, an older gentleman is polishing a set of gold rings.

"Hi, my name is Y/N! I'm here to pick up the wedding rings for Hana and Shotaro," you inform the man.

His eyes crinkle with a smile, "Ah, you came first. Wait here while I get them. Feel free to take a look around as well."

You frown at his words but dismiss them as you spot the case filled with rings of all styles and metals. There's some engagement rings with dazzling precious stones and intricate bands, but there's also a bunch of unique sets of rings that you assume are ready to sell.

When you were younger, you used to think that you wanted the largest diamond with the most elaborate designs and stones to show off. As you grew older, you realised that you just wanted a ring that would signify the love your other half had for you, no matter the size or price.

Your finger traces along the display case, humming lightly as you evaluate them all and try to guess what Hana and Shotaro's rings would look like. Would they be silver or gold? Would they have diamonds? Would they be engraved?

"Y/N?" the deep voice startles you from behind and you jump on the spot.

You turn, meeting face-to-face with Sungchan. Your heart skips a beat.

"Sungchan, what are you doing here?"

His eyebrows are tugged together in confusion, "Shotaro asked me to pick up the wedding rings."

Your mouth dries, "Ah. Hana asked me to do the same."

"Really? They didn't talk about it?" Sungchan frowns.

"They were in a rush, to be fair," you say awkwardly.

"Oh, okay. Well if you're here, then I guess I'll go," he nods, turning his body towards the door, "See ya."

"Oh, you must be the best man!" the jeweller laughs a full-bellied laugh as he emerges from the back, "Must have been some miscommunication with the bridge and groom as I got two separate messages telling me they each sent someone here."

"Yeah, that's me," Sungchan chuckles, "If I'm not needed then I'll head off."

"Have a look at the rings," the jeweller beckons the two of you over instead to a free desk with chairs on either side, "We'll be shutting the store down tomorrow for a couple of weeks, so inspect and make sure it's all okay. I have some information to pass along to the couple too."

Reluctantly, Sungchan approaches the table with you and takes the plush seat beside you. In another universe, you look just like the other couple in store, grinning at each other with lovestruck smiles as you tried on different rings. You push the thought away and swallow the mass in your throat down.

The jeweller takes out two red leather boxes from inside a small carrier bag that has a sticker with their names on it. He sets out the boxes in front of you and moves the bag aside.

"The couple requested the rings to be engraved so there's no risk of you taking away the wrong rings anyway," he clarifies as he picks up one of the boxes, "This one's for the bride."

When he opens it up, you're floored in awe at the beauty of the ring. It's a band of beautiful diamonds sparkling under the light of the store. He tilts the ring and brings it up closer to your eyes until you can see the small letters on the inside- S&H.

"It's beautiful," you whisper.

He twists the ring around in his grip, "No diamonds missing, no cracks or gaps or breaks, yes?"

When you nod in confirmation, he shows it to Sungchan who wordlessly inspects the precious stones. The jeweller places it back in the box and does the same with Shotaro's ring, which has less diamonds but is still shiny.

He puts the boxes back in the bag and shows you the booklets he had places inside, "There's ring care instructions, the certificates for the warranty and what to do if there's anything wrong with the ring."

You nod as you take in the information.

His eyes soften, "Please send my regards to the lovely couple. I am heartbroken to not be able to send them off with their rings. I hope they love it."

"I'm sure they will," you hum as you take the small bag from him, "Thank you."

He spots the absence of metal on your fingers as you reach over, "Ah, no wedding or engagement ring on you, hm? Come and visit my store in the future if you happen to need one."

The back of your neck heats up, "No ring on me. I'll keep you in mind."

"What about you, best man? A lucky lady in your life?" he turns to your companion and drops him a wink, "Gotta get as much business as possible."

Sungchan flashes his bare fingers, "I'll come to you if the time ever comes."

Four years ago, you imagined that you would be way past this stage. It twists your heart to know your best friend gets to do all of it first. You're inexplicably happy for her that she's found the love of her life that she wants to spend forever with, but you always wished you could be doing these steps together. You both always wanted to get engaged at similar times, to get married in consecutive years, to have kids all at the same time, but you've fallen behind already.

"Y/N?" the jeweller calls out softly, breaking your trance, "Everything alright?"

You offer a small smile, "Yeah, sorry. Thank you for your time and the rings."

He waves you off with a genuine smile and you leave the store with Sungchan following behind you.

You take one brief look at him and his unsettled expression and murmur, "See you again soon."

"Wait, how'd you get here? By train?" you nod at him and he sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Come. I'll drop you off back at their place."

"That's not necessary. I can handle myself-"

Sungchan gives you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed, "You're carrying around rings worth thousands. Can't risk you losing them or getting robbed."

You look down at the bag, embossed with the logo of the jeweller's, "Uhm, you can just take it if you want and give it to them when you next see them."

"I'm sure they'd wanna see their rings as soon as possible when they get home," Sungchan argues, "Just get in the car with me, Y/N. We don't even have to speak."

Your mouth flattens into a grimace as he begins stomping towards his car parked along the road. Wordlessly, you climb into the passenger seat and secure the bag on your lap. He starts the car and turns on the radio loud enough where you couldn't hold a conversation over it.

You make it 15 minutes into the journey by watching the city go by through the window in front of you. You recognise most places, but it still is not completely all familiar.

It's hard to relax when you're in the car again with the person whose heart you broke. Your fingers grip into the bag and you try to control your breathing so your heart wouldn't run as fast.

"You're getting a call," Sungchan murmurs as he turns the radio down.

You're about to tell him that it's okay and you'll take it later, but when you take out the phone, you see it's your mother. She's a busy woman who doesn't always get the time to speak with you, so you always try to answer her calls.

You mumble a sorry to Sungchan and raise the phone to your ears, "Mhm, mother?"

"Hi my darling, I was just calling to check up on you. What are you up to?"

"I just picked up the wedding rings because Hana and Taro are busy and the store's closing for a bit," you tell her, "I'm on my way back to their house."

She gasps in delight, "How exciting! You're taking a taxi back? It sounds like you're in a car."

You debate internally whether you should tell her, "Sungchan is driving me back to their house. We were both accidentally sent over to the jeweller's."

"Sungchan?" her voice is reluctant and shaky as she utters his name.

"He's the best man," you can tell he's listening by the way his grip tightens on the steering wheel and his knuckles are turning white.

"Of course, you said," your mother remembers what you told her at dinner a few nights ago, "I'll leave you to it. Say hello to Sungchan for me- I haven't seen him and his family in a while. Will they be at the wedding?"

"I suppose," you murmur, "Love you, bye."

Your mother parrots the sentiment before the line clicks.

"My mother says hello," you tell him quietly.

Sungchan forces a small smile, "Thanks. It's been a long time."

Your heart aches at the thought of just how much your family loved and adored your first boyfriend. You started dating and hanging out when you were still teens in your childhood homes, so he and his family got friendly with yours and eventually became close. You've taken endless group trips together and merged your family so well, thinking that you were going to be forever.

The rest of the drive is done in near silence. Sungchan doesn't turn the radio up again, but he also doesn't utter a single word. You felt like you could hear your heartbeat in the quiet.

When he pulls up to the drive, he barely gives you a look as he gets out the car, "I just need to get my jacket I left the other night."

You swallow and nod, following him to the front door where you enter the passcode to get into the house.  You don't really know what to do with yourself after you placed the bag on their coffee table.

Is it rude if you go to your room? Should you offer him a drink? Do you just wait by the door until he leaves?

Sungchan finds his jacket in a closet along the stairwell and he drapes it across his arm. You're waiting awkwardly in the middle of the front room when he stops in front of you with an unreadable, frustrated expression. He squints his eyes slightly at you before letting out a soft sigh.

"What?" the word drops from your mouth quietly.

He shakes his head, "It hurts to look at you."

The words feel like poison injected straight into your veins. Your mouth goes dry and hangs open, "Do you hate me?"

Of course he does. Of course he hates you.

You left him.

"I thought I did. I carried so much resentment over the past 4 years but looking at you again like this," Sungchan pauses and meets your eyes, "It just... hurts."

"I'm sorry," your head hangs low, "I'll be gone soon. You don't have to worry. You don't have to see me at all after all this."

Sungchan lets out a sarcastic, dry chuckle, "I wish that could be the case. What about when they have their first child? What about when the others start getting married too?"

You open your mouth to try and say something, but he continues, "I thought I was finally moving on or at least forgetting. It was a hard 3 years. Then, Shotaro tells me he's proposing and Hana says you're going to be the maid of honour and that in 7 months you'll be back in Seoul. I spent 7 months thinking about what to say to you when I see you again. 7 months wondering what it was going to be like between us. And then you come back and you can't even look me in the eyes. And I don't know what to say to you. And you're saying that I never have to see you again after. What do I even do with myself, Y/N?"

"I'm sorry," it's all you can say as you choke up and tears start forming on your lashes. You feel so pathetic, knowing there was nothing in the world you could say to make this easier.

"Even if you are, that doesn't fix anything," his voice cracks, "Do you actually not regret leaving? Leaving me?"

He brings you back to the other day in his car and you swallow nervously, "Of course I do, but I felt like it was the only choice I had back then. It was getting harder and harder to be with each other. We were fighting all the time for no reason and I had no idea how to fix us. And then I got that job offer I couldn't turn down and you got a good job here in Seoul."

Sungchan's hands ball into fists, "Every couple goes through hard times. I would have gone to the ends of the universe to fight for us. You were everything to me. Was I not to you?"

You snap, "You don't know how hard it was to leave."

"And you don't know how much worse it is to be the one left behind," his voice raises slightly in frustration as you realise that he's crying too, crystal tears falling from his pretty eyes, "What went wrong with us, Y/N? I still don't understand."

"I had no idea who I was without you. We spent every waking moment tethered to each other. Don't you think we needed to grow?" you whisper, "We were fighting so much I thought you would begin to resent me and that it meant we had outgrown each other."

"I wish we could have talked more about it before you left. You gave me no choice, Y/N. You just moved across the world and left me behind," the pain in his voice is evident, "I know I wasn't being a good boyfriend at the end. It was stressful starting that job and becoming an adult in the real world after college, but if you'd given me the chance-"

"There's no point talking about the what-if's," you interrupt him, "It'll only hurt us more."

"Do you still love me?" he questions suddenly.

Your face pales as you look up at him. His tears are flowing so fast, but so delicately- you wish you could reach up and dry his tears with your fingers, not too dissimilar from the way he used to kiss the tears off your cheeks in the past whenever you would have squabbles.

"What?"

He gulps, "I've spent 12 years loving you since the moment I met you. I'm so scared that I'm going to love you for the rest of my life."

"Sungchan-"

"I can't let you leave again without telling you. You have to know it's only ever going to be you."

Sungchan sniffles as he takes a step closer to you. His jacket that was on his arm is discarded on the floor.

"I'm so sorry," you whimper again as your eyes flutter shut. You bite your lip to try and control the tears.

Before you realise what was happening, you feel the soft pad of his thumb tug your lip out and then the pressure of his own mouth against yours as he captured your hot tears in his kiss. And like it was a reflex, you melt into his body and part your lips, giving him access and trying to forget that this was a terrible, terrible thing to do.

His large hands come up to cradle your face and he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. You're both sobbing into the kiss, but you can't pull away even if you wanted to.

You haven't kissed anyone in 4 years and Sungchan's lips on yours feels like you finally came home to him. It's desperate, sloppy and you're both choking on your own tears as you move your mouth against his. Your heart and your brain have disconnected from each other and your hands are gripping the fabric of the jacket he was currently wearing like your life depends on it.

Time freezes in this moment with him and you don't know how long you're kissing for until you've both stopped crying and your mouth goes numb.

He presses his forehead against yours, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too."

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iv. but you come back with gravity

You don't say anything to Hana when she knocks on your door later on in the evening once they returned. She texts you after, asking if you were awake and if you wanted dinner. You wait 30 minutes before replying that you were in and out of sleep, exhausted from all the exploring you told her that you did after collecting the rings. You're thankful she leaves you alone after that but not before apologising over the mix up with Sungchan and that she hoped he didn't bring you any trouble.

You toss and turn in the bed all night.

When the next day comes, you force yourself out at the crack of dawn, commandeering over the kitchen to cook your friends some breakfast. It was the least you could do for them as they hosted you. You knew Hana would be awake soon since she was still working remotely for a few days. Shotaro, on the other hand, could afford to take some leave by busying himself more than usual in the months prior to the wedding to make up for it.

When Hana comes down yawning, you greet her tiredly, "Hey."

"Awww, my Y/N cooked for me?" she pouted sweetly at you, "You're too sweet. I could get used to this; why don't you come back and live in our spare room forever?"

Your stomach flips on itself, "Do you think I should?"

Hana was about to bring a mouthful of egg into her mouth when she stills, "I mean I was joking but I don't think you are. You want to move back?"

The image of Sungchan from yesterday with tears in his eyes is burned into your brain and you can see him every time you blink, "No... it's just that-"

"Whatever it is, I would say move back. I'm the first- no the second person who wants you back here," she quips.

"Who's the first?"

She glares at you like you're stupid before tossing a piece of kimchi on top of your rice, "Did something happen yesterday? With Sungchan? Did he say something to you?"

You're in half a mind to blurt out the truth, but you stop yourself. You're here for your best friend and to make her life easier before her wedding, not to add problems. Maybe when she's back from her honeymoon and you're alone again in your flat in London you could tell her over FaceTime, but you hold your breath for now.

"No," you shake your head, "You getting married just has me thinking about my future. Like where I'm gonna end up and settle."

She shoots you a sympathetic look, "When did life suddenly whizz by? One second we're giggling by our lockers writing confession notes and the next we're thinking about where to root our lives. Anyway, I want you here, but more importantly, I want you where you're happy. I can tell it's been hard for you to come back here."

"I'm just kind of lost in life. I thought I could build a life in London and stay there forever. I have- kind of, but there's nothing that's actually keeping me there. If I packed up and moved away, no one is missing me," you sigh.

Hana claps like she suddenly had a bright idea, "You know what you should do while you're here? Open a dating app! Maybe you'll find your reason to stay."

You look at her like she's grown 10 heads, cause WTAF?

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," you deadpan.

Hana rolls her eyes, "Seriously? Why not? Are you still in love with him or something? I thought that seeing him again would give you closure and you can finally move on."

You stay silent and she groans, putting her head in her hands, "Jesus, it's done the opposite, hasn't it? Made you feel things again?"

"This is not about me. Or Sungchan. Stop, stop," you frantically dismiss her, "No talking about my tragic love life. You're literally getting married!"

Hana sighs at you, "I am, but doesn't mean I can't care and worry about you. I have enough of myself to share with those I love, honestly. Getting married to Taro is gonna be one of the greatest things ever, but you know, I love him every single day regardless and not much has to change. It's a big deal to us but life still goes on for everyone else."

"I'm so happy you guys have each other," you tell her, voice dropping to a whisper.

"It's all thanks to you and him," she reminds you, "And if you realised that you still love him, I won't judge. I just don't want either of you to get hurt again."

You nod slowly, trying to internalise her words, "I'll be okay, right?"

She reaches across the table and squeezes your hand, "You're gonna be fine, my love. Whatever happens."

You finish up breakfast talking about what you were gonna do during the day instead. It was 6 days until the wedding and you were scheduled to pick up your dress from the tailors after they finished the adjustments. Hana was going to do some work first and then you both would go out and get the dress together, then have some brunch with some of your old friends from college. A lot of them stayed in town, but you both had lost touch with some of them after your move and Hana's fancy job she got straight out of school.

Spending the rest of the morning trying to relax proved to be futile. Every time you were left alone with your thoughts, all you could think about was Sungchan's lips on yours, the pressure of his body caging you in- and then the emptiness you felt when he ran away as soon as.

How could he tell you that he still loved you and proceed to flee after kissing you? Your brain and heart are in complete tatters.

You're still thinking about him by the time Hana knocks and tells you she finished up her work and you think about him the whole drive over to the bridal shop.

You think about him when you try on the dress again. You think about whether he'd think you're pretty in the dress. You think about the wedding dress you'd have picked if life went to plan.

On the whole walk to the brunch restaurant, Hana gave up on trying to capture your attention. She just links your arms together and hums into the air.

Minjeong and Jimin are already sat at the table when you arrive and they spring up in delight at the sight of you and crush you between them.

"Holy crap, you've been away as long as we knew you," Minjeong whines as you all sit down. Like the boys, you messaged her on special occasions and haven't substantially talked since, but you'll always hold a lot of love for the few friends you made in college.

Minjeong and Jimin lived in the apartment next to yours for your entire college journey. They too were best friends from childhood and you and Hana mirrored them in so many ways.

"How are you? How's London?" Jimin asks curiously.

"It's weird to be back, for sure," you smile slightly, "But I'm happy to see you guys again. London's London- busy, gloomy, grey."

"Did you make friends okay over there? Find a new man?" Minjeong raises her eyebrows. Jimin elbows her in the side and gives you a sheepish look.

It wasn't like you made a public statement that you and Sungchan broke up, but people must have noticed something was up when you started posting in the UK and disappeared off each other's social media accounts.

"Still just me," you chuckle, "Anyway, what are you guys wearing to the wedding?"

Jimin claps her hands excitedly and rushes to her phone to show you the photos of their dresses. They're coming in complimentary pastel yellow dresses with frills and all.

"You guys are gonna look so good! Like cute little twins as always," Hana squeals in approval, "No dates for either of you?"

Winter grimaces, "We've not been as lucky as you in that department. I don't know if we scare each other's potential suitors off."

"Taro was terrified of Y/N for a while, remember?," Hana reminisces fondly, "He was my first proper boyfriend, so Y/N really lay on the act thick to make sure he would treat me well."

"And my screening process worked, didn't it? You're the one getting married in 6 days," you quip at her.

"Yes, I have you to thank of course," she nuzzles into your side, "Why does it now seem like I'm not going to be attending any of your weddings anytime soon? I want to attend one that's not my own!"

Jimin snorts, "I can get eloped for you, if you want. What age did you guys want to get married?"

Winter sighs, "I wanted to get married out of college," and then gives the stink eye to her best friend who mutters under her breath that she should have tried harder then.

"Around this age would have been nice, I think," you say sadly, playing with the rings on your fingers and trying to imagine how they would look beside a wedding or engagement ring.

"I told her to go on a dating app earlier, but she said no," Hana informs them.

"That's modern dating now, unfortunately. We can't all have high school or college sweethearts," Jimin purses her lips in thought, "Or how about you just get back together with your ex?"

It's Winter's turn to smack her friend's arm in shock, "Yah, that's so out of pocket, Jimin! Sorry Y/N."

You attempt to keep your face neutral as Jimin giggles innocently, "Sorry Y/N. It's just that I heard that he's been single this whole time. You've seen him recently, right?"

"He's Taro's best man," Hana nods, "We've had a few wedding events and dinners since Y/N got here."

"It's not really up to me, I think. I'm the one that up and left."

Winter reaches across the table to grab your hand and comfort you, "You must've had your reasons, Y/N-ie. Sorry, I know you probably don't want to talk about it."

"It's fine- it's just complicated," you smile softly in reassurance.

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v. i could go on and on and on, and i will go on and on and on until it all comes back

4 days out from the wedding and you find yourself alone in Seoul again. Hana and Shotaro decided they needed a spa day to relax just before it got incredibly intense over the weekend and asked if you wanted to join. Of course, you weren't going to sandwich yourself in the nearly newlywed's plans.

You remember the café near the jeweller's you wanted to visit, eager to see how time has changed the shop just as it had changed you. Taking the subway was tiring, of course, but you occupy your time by people-watching through every stop. It's a weekday, so the carriage isn't so busy during the middle of the day. You're lucky enough to find a row of seats and be able to rest your feet.

The walk to the café from the station isn't long, but you walk slow and take in your surroundings on the sunny day. It's hard when your memories are so entwined with the one you didn't have anymore.

Every corner you turn, you can still picture you and Sungchan there walking, holding hands and bright-eyed. He'll probably have said something ridiculous that made you laugh and you'll have playfully hit him on his arm and cuddled into his side as he dropped a kiss on the top of your head.

Being in Seoul brings back all the nostalgia of your youth.

You order a refreshing iced drink, slightly sad that you don't recognise the cashier behind the till. Your feet carry you to an empty table before you can realise it's the one you liked to sit at before- by a window, far away enough from both the front door and the toilet, and with a view of the main street in front to watch the world go by. You know there's a charging port at your feet and that it takes 12 steps to get to the stand with the tissues, sugars and stirrers. You know that you've spent many hours hunched over on the seat, trying to complete each essay and assignment. You know what you like off the menu and what you don't. You know that it's where you had your first date with Sungchan in the city when your parents let you out at 16 together.

It hurts to remember the very first time you were here, giggling, flustered and nervous for your very first date with a boy- the same boy you'd been infatuated with since the first time you laid eyes on him 2 years prior. Sungchan had carried your bag on his shoulder the whole train ride over and tried his best to look all tall and tough to protect you in the big city despite it being one of his first times going to the city without an adult. He had opened all the doors for you, pulled out all the chairs and paid for all your drinks and food as he listened to you ramble about cute cakes and pastries.

You had talked about your high school exams, what you wanted to do in college and how you imagined your futures. He had told you all about his sweet family, his love for football and things you never got to know about him in a group situation.

On the way home, with the sun about to set, he held your hand the whole way.

You stop reminiscing when a figure takes a seat in front of you, and then you're thrown straight back in.

"What are you doing here?" you ask Sungchan tentatively, unsure what to make of his presence.

"Hana told me you might come here today. I was going to come to the house to see you," Sungchan says simply, playing with his fingers, "I didn't really have any way to reach you."

Of course- your Korean number was long deactivated, you had unfollowed each other on social media and your temporary number was shared only with those you deemed it necessary.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, expression slightly menacing from the way it brought a pang to your heart to look at him. You knew exactly how he felt when he said it hurt to look at you.

"You left, Sungchan. You told me you missed me and then you left," you murmured quietly, suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings.

He sighs longingly, "I know. I'm sorry for that. But my head's a mess, I'm confused and I don't know where we stand."

"You're the one that kissed me," you continue accusing him.

"You kissed me back and I didn't expect it. You told me you missed me," he bores his eyes into yours, "But you're going to leave again in a few days and I don't know if my heart can handle it again to watch you walk away."

"What's our options here?" you grip the cup in your hands tightly, "We just forget everything happened, just get through the wedding and then never look back?"

"Is that what you want?" there's a tinge of hurt in his voice.

"What I want and what I can have are two different things."

He pauses and then swallows, "What do you want?"

"You said it- it's only ever going to be you," you confess.

There's no point lying to him; you know each other better than you know yourselves- or at least you did. He knows your soul like it's his own, learned you inside and out over the years you grew up beside each other. You might've changed a bit away from each other, but you were each other's anchor in your formative years. Of course he knows you.

You watch his eyes transform with hope and then hesitancy, "What's stopping us from being together then?"

"We haven't spoken in 4 years and the most we've done here is argue," you remind him, "And I could love you with all my heart and every inch of my being, but that doesn't mean we'll work again."

Sungchan looks at you with those big, brown eyes that transports you 10 years back, in the very same seat, as he asked you to be his girlfriend, "Can we just try?"

10 years ago, you had blushed and hid your face in your hands. He had laughed sweetly, melodiously, prying your fingers away from your visage. You had giggled out a small 'yes' and he had entangled your fingers together in glee.

But now you're 10 years older, cheeks less puffy and the passage of time eroding at the innocent naïvety you both held. But love has no timeline, hope even less.

You're the one to reach over to his restless fingers and entwine them in yours, "Yes."

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You have more questions than you have answers. You have more anxiety than you have reassurance. Your head spins the minute you attempt to solve all the newfound puzzles and dilemmas in your head, but you try to bury them back deep into your brain so you could focus on your task at hand and what you came here for.

Like most brides before their wedding, Hana was starting to get a bit nervous. She had absolutely no doubt about marrying Shotaro of course, but it was a lot of stress to deal with all the moving parts and logistics of actually holding the wedding. Every evening, you've been sitting with the couple, going through their to-do-lists and wedding plans to make sure you didn't miss a single detail.

To be honest, there's nothing left to do until the rehearsal dinner you were hosting tomorrow, which was the day before the wedding. Overthinking details unnecessarily would just add stress to the couple, so you've been trying to reassure them everything was going to be perfect.

"It's actually so close," Hana exhales slowly, as she closes her eyes and tries to relax.

You're sat outside in the lawn chairs of their garden, basking in the late afternoon summer sun, "My best friend is going to be a married woman in 2 days."

"And then you're going to leave again," you can hear the pout in her voice, "When's the next time we can take time off work so we can properly hang out without the wedding planning being the center of attention? HR probably won't let me for another 6 months, but I'm itching to come visit you in London already."

"Don't act like your wedding isn't the most exciting thing that's ever happened to either of us," you scoff at her.

"It is, but it's literally consumed our entire life," Hana puffs out, "I'm excited to see it come together, though. Make sure you try and have fun at the wedding too, okay? I know I asked you for a lot of favours as my maid of honour, but I still want you to have a good time. Maybe meet one of Taro's cousins or studio friends."

You flush red at the sudden thought in your head, "Don't say anything, okay, but Sungchan and I are gonna, um, come to your wedding together-" Hana slaps her hand over her mouth and you sit up, "I said don't say anything!"

Over the past 2 days, you'd been texting and chatting on the phone a lot in the times you could. He was still working during the day as a hot-shot physiotherapist for one of the elite football teams in the city, so he didn't have time to see you when you were available. You'd agreed to be each other's dates to your best friends' wedding, even though the time you would spent with each other was probably going to be very limited with your duties. It's the thought that counts.

Hana's peering at you with the widest, most shocked eyes, "What did I miss? What the hell?"

"It's nothing," it's everything, "We just got to talking a bit, decided to see if it might go anywhere and stick this time. We're taking it like really slow."

Hana rolls her eyes, "How slow do you have to go? You're already each other's greatest love- oh don't give me that look!" she reaches out to poke your exasperated expression, "I get it. You don't want to get hurt and you don't want to hurt each other. Just don't stand in the way of your own happiness."

"I'm sorry to make it about me," you sigh, "We're not going to be obvious at your wedding or anything."

She reaches over to take your hand, "Babe, I told you, your happiness is my happiness and I mean it. You know I've always rooted for the two of you."

Hana was the very first supporter of your relationship. While she came to know her soon-to-be husband through you and Sungchan, you only ended up together in the first place by Hana getting fed up of you dancing around each other and basically telling Sungchan to ask you out on a date. She'd spent 2 years listening to you go on and on about the cute guy that moved into the neighbourhood and watched as he fell for you with every waking day. You were both too shy to make a move, until she cornered him and convinced him that you would definitely say yes to a date (even the blind could sense that you'd say yes in a heartbeat).

"I love you. I'm so lucky to have you as my best friend," you sniffle, squeezing her hand.

"Save the confession for your Prince Charming. I think he just got here," Hana nods behind you, in the direction of the house.

"What? You didn't tell me he was coming over? He didn't say!" you scramble up to your feet, afraid to turn around knowing you'd find him leaning against the door frame of the garden door.

"Hey!" you hear his familiar sweet voice.

"Sungchan-ie, come here," Hana beckons him over and motions for you to sit down again, "Come join us. What are you doing here?"

"Taro asked me to hang out," he shrugs and takes the chair besides yours, flashing you a sweet smile as he did so, "Sorry for breaking in, but I thought you two would be out having girl-time and getting pampered."

"Our appointments were pretty efficient," Hana shrugs. You had spent the morning doing your final beauty treatments and touch ups - nails, brows, last-minute hair tweaks, lashes, facials and all. You managed to get through them all quickly and ended up having enough time to lay out in the garden with a cocktail on the side-tables, "Taro should be home soon, though. He's probably caught in some traffic back from the airport as he picked up his family."

"Do you want a drink?" you ask him, motioning to the pair of glasses.

"D'you make that?" he quirks in amusement.

You nod, "I befriended the bartender at the pub I live near. She taught me how to make some good cocktails."

"You're full of surprises," he chuckles at you, "Up for passing on that knowledge?"

You look back at Hana, who simply turns her face away with a smirk as she closed her eyes to appreciate the sun. You get up with Sungchan and motion for him to follow you into the kitchen.

"You told her? That girl cannot keep a neutral expression to save her life," Sungchan utters behind you, his tone amused.

"I said we were going to the wedding together, if that's okay," you prepare the ingredients in front of you.

"Mhm, more than okay. I'm sure she was happy to hear that," he muses, "Did she tell you how thick she laid it on in the weeks before you got here? Every time I saw her, she would remind me that I shouldn't miss my chance when you got here."

You gasp at your scheming best friend, "No way! She's the one that's been telling me to get on a dating app! And wanted to set me up with Taro's colleagues!"

Sungchan pouts in faux betrayal, clutching at his heart like he got shot, "Back-stabber! I thought she was on my side!"

You laugh at his antics, "Nah, I think she was playing the long-game with us. Anyway, watch and learn, yeah?"

Sungchan watches in fascination as you show him how to make a salt and chilli rim and how to mix a cocktail together. He's delighted at the way you shake the drink in the shaker the same way bartenders do it and begs you to let him try. You watch him carefully to make sure that the liquid wouldn't explode everywhere throughout your best friend's house and he's smiling in triumph as he strains out the drink into the cup.

You'd forgotten just how adorable he is when he's not trying to ignore you in the room.

"You're an expert too," you clap happily, "Like it?"

"Best cocktail I've ever had! Thank you!" he proclaims, and then sticks himself by your side, slinging a casual arm around your shoulder to pull you close, "I didn't get to say hi properly. Tell me about your day."

"We just went appointment to appointment," you show him your nails that he coos at, "Went café hopping a bit and then came home to chill since it was so sunny."

"Mhm, it'd be so nice to go to the beach," Sungchan sighs dreamily before his expression changes, "Oh, yeah. When are you going back to London?"

"I've got three full days after the wedding," you try to keep your voice steady, not wanting to give away how unsettled you felt about all the uncertainty, "We can spend that time together, yeah?"

He smiles gently, reaching up to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and then placing his large palm on your cheek, "We can make the most of it. Then I'll find a good time to come see you in London."

It makes your heart skip a beat, "That'd be nice."

Sungchan's eyes furrow together as he maintains his warm touch on you. He leans down, "Can I kiss you?"

You don't reply. Instead, you reach up and press your lips against his. This time it's sweet and full of adoration instead of the angst and desperation of a few days ago. He smiles against your lips and you taste the hint of salt, vodka and a little something sweet. When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against yours and exhales, content and feeling like he can finally breathe again.

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vi. i trust the universe will always bring me to you

The day comes around all too quickly when time had been passing so slow in the week before. The rehearsal dinner was beautiful, but over in a flash and then suddenly, you were in the guesthouse of the venue, watching with teary eyes as your best friend in the world clips her veil on.

Her mother sniffles next to you, clutching your arm tightly. Hana was biting her pink-stained lips, trying to keep herself from crying off her pretty makeup. The room's drop-dead quiet with all eyes trained on her on her special day.

"My beautiful baby," Hana's mother coos at her only daughter when she looked over at you all expectantly for your reactions.

"You're gonna make me cry! Stop it," she whines adorably, but accepts the tight squeeze her mother wraps her in.

She turns to you and you have to look up to blink the tears away before you can hug her again, "The most beautiful bride in the world," you whisper fondly, "I am so happy for you, Hana."

"Thank you for being here with me," she says sincerely, squeezing your hands, "And for being my best friend in the world."

She gives her bridesmaid hugs too until the coordinator tells you it's time for your best friend to get married. You all file out of the room in order to walk over to the ceremony hall, with Hana being the last one to leave. Ahead of you when you get to the entrance, you finally see the boys all huddled around Shotaro, who looked both nervous and giddy at the same time.

Hana stays hidden from the groom, but you spot the tallest boy of the group and tug on his sleeve.

"Y/N," he gasps when he turns around, his gaze softening into pure adoration, "Oh, baby, you look so beautiful."

The dress you picked out with Hana falls perfectly on your body and the colour is the perfect complement to your skin. The fabric drapes delicately in all the right places and hugs where it should. It makes you feel incredible, especially when Sungchan reacts the way he does.

"You look really handsome too, Sungchan," you reach up to straighten his tie as you all file into your orders.

"Shall we?" Sungchan asks nervously, offering his arm out to you as he notices the other pairs link together.

You smile at him, entwining your arms together and pressing yourself into his side. Before you forget, you turn around to see Shotaro rubbing his hands together.

"It's gonna be amazing, Taro," you reassure him.

Shotaro sighs in relief, "I just can't wait to marry her."

You're happy to know your best friend gets the happy ending she deserves.

Sungchan nudges you when the door opens and the pairs start walking down the aisle. It goes by in a heartbeat for you- you don't even remember what happened between the time you started walking and the time you and Sungchan separated to stand on either side of the altar.

When Hana walks in, you almost cry again. She's radiant in white and her eyes are so full and shiny with love as she keeps her eyes on her groom waiting for her. The wedding is beautiful and the vows make everyone laugh and cry.

You meet Sungchan's eyes multiple times through the ceremony and each time, he gives you this subtle, but comforting smile to reassure you that he was there. You wonder if you'd have been in Hana and Shotaro's place earlier had everything not happened.

Ever since she asked you to be her maid of honour, you've been preparing for the speech you were asked to give at the reception. You're nervous the whole time as the MC introduces you and prepares to hand you the mic and Hana gently squeezes your hand before you stand up with a fond look in her eyes. Sungchan on the other side of Shotaro is still looking at you like you hung the stars.

"For those that don't know me, my name is Y/N and Hana has been my best friend since we were born," you begin slowly, taking the time to breathe, "Our parents are friends from the same neighbourhood and we grew up together, practically as twins. When we were young, we were as inseparable as they came and did everything together. We went to all the same schools, all the way up to college, which was when I introduced Shotaro to her.

"Hana was the reason that I was able to date my first love by her meddling in high school. Ever since then, I had wanted to find the perfect match for her to share her heart with and to make her happy. Sorry Shotaro, but Hana has been my other half since birth and I felt like I knew her well enough to know who she'd click with. When I first met Shotaro in that tiny freshman dorm, I knew he'd be perfect for Hana.

"Taro and Hana are two of the most loving, gentle and caring people I have in my life and I can't be any happier to know that my best friend is loved the exact way she deserves. She's the best person I know and knowing I played a part in introducing her to her person makes me so happy. Even though I'm thousands of miles across the world, their love inspires me every day. They've felt like a married couple since the day they started dating and their love hasn't flickered or weaned once since.

"It feels just like yesterday when Hana and I were planning our dream weddings in our childhood bedrooms and here we are now, marrying you off to the love of your life. May the rest of your life together be filled with endless love and happy memories. I love you both so much."

Hana is tearing up by the time you finish your speech and you have to gulp to hold your own tears back. She stands up to hug you tightly and Shotaro follows beside her. They both thank you for the lovely speech and you hand the mic over to Sungchan once he's announced.

"When I met Shotaro on the first day of freshman year, I was honestly terrified. He looked so intimidating and scary up until I found out that it was only because he wasn't quite fluent in Korean yet and was actually from Japan. We were roommates in freshman year, so we got to know each other pretty well. He's been my best friend since and I'm grateful to have such a thoughtful, considerate, sweet and of course, talented, friend in him.

"Taro and Hana's very first date was at a diner on the other side of the city. What you two don't know is that Y/N and I actually followed you there and spied on you in wigs and glasses," you gasp in remembrance at the memory and burst out into a large smile, "And then we swore to each other that we'd keep this secret until your wedding day after your disastrous first date when you both came home crying in frustration because you liked each other so much that you were too nervous on the first date. We had to chaperone your next few dates and it was such an honour for us to watch you fall in love with each other with our very own eyes.

"I met Hana at 14 and I was scared of her for a few years, but even then, I knew she was a crazy loyal best friend to Y/N, who would do anything for her best friend's happiness. Even now, she shows me she cares in all the small and big ways and having the two of them in my life makes me feel very lucky. And even though I cringe at you two for still being in your honeymoon phase 8 years later, I couldn't be any happier that you have each other to have and to hold. Thank you for everything you've done for me and I also love you both very, very much."

Later on in the night after the dinner and cake-cutting, Jiwoo, Seunghan and Sungchan join you at the bar getting the signature cocktails created by the couple.

"You guys did such lovely speeches," Jiwoo says sincerely, clinking her drink against yours.

"Thank you. I didn't want to embarrass them so I held back on that aspect," Sungchan chuckles.

"And you mentioned that Hana set you up with your first love. Are you still together? Are they here?" she asks you curiously, innocent to the situation.

Seunghan coughs into his drink and has to turn around to control his face. Sungchan tenses up beside you, but you look over at him and smile softly, "Yeah, he's here."

Jiwoo's eyes widen in shock as she begins to laugh awkwardly, "Oh! I'm sorry- I didn't know you guys were together! Hana never mentioned!"

"Don't worry, Jiwoo," you reassure her.

"Jiwoo, look- Mina's calling you over," Seunghan points out across the room, where Mina, Taehee and Anton were chatting at a table. Jiwoo flashes a sheepish smile before she disappears away into the crowd. The younger boy looks between the two of you, "I thought that was taboo."

Sungchan rolls his eyes at his friend and places his free hand around your waist to the bewilderment of Seunghan, "None of your business."

He slaps his palm across his mouth, "I knew it! I knew this was going to happen."

"Don't go around telling everyone now," you request from him, "It's Hana and Taro's wedding after all."

"Of course," Seunghan nods enthusiastically and then relaxes into a soft smile, "I'm happy for the two of you, though."

He's whisked away by Eunseok and Wonbin, who both stare confused at your proximity but decide against saying anything as they get chased down by Hana's eccentric grandmother who always loved Eunseok when you were all younger.

Sungchan squeezes at your waist, "How you feeling?"

You look around the room at mostly familiar faces and the sight of your best friends breaking it down on the dance floor, "It's crazy- like, they're really married! When did we all grow up so fast?"

"I know, right? They'll be having kids soon, I bet," Sungchan agrees with a fond stare over at the couple, "The wedding was so beautiful as well."

"But then it's over just like that," you sigh, "Well, I guess those two are going off to their honeymoon literally tonight, so it won't feel like it's over for them yet."

"Oh, tonight? They're just leaving you in the house alone?" Sungchan raises an eyebrow curiously.

"Mhm, Hana didn't want me to book a hotel for just a few days," you say off-handedly, not picking up on his tone.

"Oh," Sungchan gulps, "I don't want you to be alone- do you, maybe, wanna come over?"

When your head whips around to look at him, he's already flushing red. You don't know if it's the alcohol or something else, but he's gnawing on his lip. You just give him a reassuring smile, "I'd like that, actually."

After some dancing with your best friend and childhood friends and some mingling with the parents, you're saying a very tearful goodbye to Hana and Shotaro in the foyer of the venue. Their bags are packed and with them and they're about to head to the airport to jet away.

"Promise you'll come back more often, yeah?" Hana is crying into your shoulder, "Thank you for everything you've done this week. I'm gonna miss you so much."

You have a feeling you'll be back much sooner than another 4 years.

"Enjoy yourself, okay? You're gonna have such a great time, Mrs. Osaki!" you sniffle into her jumper.

You embrace Shotaro in a similar fashion as he also thanks you for the help. He drops a wink as he says, "Check on the house at least once before you go, okay? I know you probably won't be there much."

"No idea what you're talking about," you try to keep a straight face, but you both burst out laughing.

You watch them ride off into the night in a blacked out SUV and try to dry your tears as you feel a weight drop on your shoulders in the form of an arm, "Ready to go? The taxi's coming soon."

Sungchan's presence is warm in the blustery foyer, "Yeah."

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You rest your eyes with your head on his shoulder the entire journey back to Sungchan's place. His hand finds home on your thigh, the pad of his thumb brushing repeatedly over the silk of your dress. His suit jacket sits comfortably around your shoulders as you doze in and out of sleep, but the car stops before you've even realised.

"We're here, Y/N," he whispers to pull you into consciousness. He thanks the driver and rushes around to your door to open it for you.

It's dark when you step out and the nearest street light doesn't illuminate your surroundings enough for you to recognise what part of the city you were in. Sungchan grips your hand in his tightly all the way through the side-street and into the lobby of the apartment building.

He keeps quiet beside you, only the pattering of your heels and his dress shoes echoing into the empty room. You come to your senses quickly and then gasp.

"Sungchan," you freeze beside him.

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I know."

"No one told me," you say quietly as he leads you to the elevator, "Chanie."

"It's home," he shrugs as he presses the floor of the apartment.

You're nervous when you get off at the floor, then it grows as he keys in the code on the pad. You gulp at the order of the numbers- the same sequence it's been since you moved in four and a half years ago.

"Welcome back," Sungchan murmurs behind you. He places his hand on the small of your back to gently guide you inside, since your feet were planted into the ground.

It smells exactly the same as when you left (though more of his scent and none of yours) and then he turns the lights on and you choke up as it looks nearly identical as before. It's the very first home you and your first love moved into together and it breaks your heart all over again to know he's been living here this whole time.

The shoe rack you picked out still sits by the door, but it's only occupied by large men's shoes now. The artwork you and Sungchan bickered about is still hanging above the chest of drawers on the other side of the door where you used to dump keys and bags and other knick knacks you collected for the 6 months you lived here.

"Oh, baby, don't cry," Sungchan is now in front of you, wiping at the tears you didn't even know were falling.

"Why didn't you move out?" you lean into his touch.

"Because this was our first home," he says, "And this was all I had left of you."

You crash your body against his, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly as your tears soaked into his dress shirt, now stained with your makeup.

"Shh, don't cry, my love. It's okay. I was strong enough," Sungchan murmurs into your hair as he presses his lips into your scalp, "You know that I love you, mhm? I always will."

"Channie, I love you," you cry even harder as he squeezes you, "I'm so, so sorry."

"I know. But you came back home to me," Sungchan sighs contently, smoothing your hair down to comfort you, "That's all I can ask for."

"I ruined us."

Sungchan shakes his head, "No, baby. You're here now. It's fine."

"It's all my fault."

Sungchan unwraps your arms from around him and takes your hand to lead you to the bedroom you made home in the past. He sits you down at the edge of the bed as you cry and crouches in front of you, holding your hands.

"You look so, so beautiful, my love. Don't cry, come on," he soothes, "I'm here, Y/N. I'm here."

Sungchan finds a packet of makeup wipes from your bag and swipes gently at your face as you sniffle and try to stop your tears. He goes through a few before the makeup is no longer staining your face and he hands you some tissue to blow your nose from the sobbing. While he waits for you patiently, you look up at the ceiling to try and stop the hot, silent tears that kept escaping.

"Do you think we'd have been married by now?" you ask, guilt surging in your vessels, "We always wanted to get married as soon as possible."

Sungchan's soft gaze falters for a second, but then he comes up to sit next to you and wrap you in his large arms, "It doesn't matter, Y/N. It's not your fault."

"But I left," you mutter.

"And I made you feel like you had to," Sungchan pats you comfortingly, "We'll be better this time, mhm? We'll know better."

"But what if I'm not the same person anymore you used to love?"

Sungchan furrows his brows tightly together, "That's nonsense. The moment I saw you again in that café, I knew. You're still the one who has my heart. I promise."

He holds you a few minutes longer, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you halt the crying. You grip onto him tightly, afraid he was going to leave you- ironic, isn't it?

When you finally calm down, he drags you to the bathroom to brush your teeth together with his spare toothbrush and he washes your face with a foaming cleanser while you do the same to him. When you're applying his moisturiser on your skin, he watches from behind you, arms holding onto your waist as he blinks slowly through the mirror. And when you realise you don't have any clothes, he unzips your dress from the top and dresses you up in one of his favourite shirts, adoring the way it swamps you.

He gives you this look and pulls you under the sheets, immediately tackling you into a hug and covering your body with his.

"This isn't really taking it slow, is it?" you hum, tracing shapes onto his bare arms.

"It is for me," Sungchan's eyes flutter shut in contentment, "If I had things my way, we'd be up on that altar beside Taro and Hana. How does a double wedding sound to you?"

You gasp and break out into laughter as you shove against his body, but he pulls you in tighter, "Shut up. You'd so be the type to propose at someone else's wedding."

He scoffs, as if offended, "Hell no. Do you wanna know how I'd do it?" you miss the way his voice wavers. His eyes are still closed and you're staring into his chest, "In a flower field or meadow, you in a pretty dress. Maybe we'd have a picnic, but it would be definitely be on a sunny day because you're extra happy when the sun is out. I'd set up a camera or something. Say I want to take pictures of us and there's no one else around. And when I succeed in distracting you, I would get down on one knee and you'd turn around and start crying, probably. And you'd love the ring too."

Your voice drops to barely a whisper, "Seems like you've thought about it a lot."

"You were the only person I could have ever imagined spending my life with. And I didn't want to spend any time apart from you," Sungchan admits, "When I bought the ring after saving my first few pays, I got scared and I pulled away. I had no idea it would drive you away in the end. I'm sorry for that."

Your heart stops, "The ring?"

He lets out this heavy sigh as he turns around and reaches over to pull his nightstand drawer open. He digs around into the depths of it and pulls out a box. It looks tiny in the palm of his hands and he presents it to you with his big brown eyes suddenly tearing up. He's doing that thing where he's nibbling on his lips and looking up and away to stop the tears falling.

"I don't want you to feel guilty or sorry. I just need you to know everything before we can start again," he mumbles, "If you want to open it, you can. Of if you don't, you don't have to."

For the countless time since the day started, you're crying again. You're in his arms, again.

"Sungchan," you cry out, "You were going to propose?"

"I wanted forever with you," he coo's sweetly, brushing the hair out of your face to plant kisses on your cheeks, "I still do."

You take the box from his hold and open it slowly, breath hitched. He's right- you love it so much that your stomach twists into itself. You had always wondered what ring would call to your heart- you didn't think you could describe it if someone asked, but Sungchan had known then, even without asking.

"It's a bit dusty now. I haven't looked at it in a while," Sungchan giggles.

Your heart is beating fast, almost out of your chest as you eye the metal and the precious stone. It's even better than any ring you saw in that jewellery store with him. You can feel his eyes locked on you as you take the ring out from its plush cushion and inspect it close up.

The room is only lit with a dim lamp, but the stone sparkles in the dark anyway. You can see something engraved inside the band, but your hands can't stop shaking long enough to read it. Sungchan's looking at you and he looks nearly exactly the same as he did 4 years ago in this very spot.

"Do you like it?" he asks quietly, "I picked it out by myself."

You don't say another word as you toss the box beside you and slip the ring effortlessly on the finger it was intended to rest on. Sungchan opens his mouth but you catch the gasp with your kiss as you smash your lips against his. He makes this strangulated noise as his fingers dig in to the side of your hips to pull you over him and his tongue slips into your mouth.

You kiss fervently, ferociously, having been devoid of his taste for more days than you wish would have passed. The cold metal of the ring digs into the side of his cheek, but Sungchan has never known more bliss than this.

"You can't take it back," Sungchan pants against your lips as he captured them again in a hot kiss. His hands slide up your bare flanks under the loose shirt and you detach from his mouth just to be able to gnaw at the side of his neck in that one spot you remember he loves.

His sweet mouth curses into the still air, "Fuck, Y/N."

"I love you," you murmur into his neck as his hands run wild, "I always will."

Sungchan places a hand over yours, the stone now digging into his palms. It's worth it, he tells himself now. You're here, he tells himself.

"I love you. It'll only ever be you."

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vii. i'm always, forever, runnin' back to you

The city is too polluted for you to ever feel like you're taking in a breath of fresh air. You should probably hold your breath, even.

Though the sky is teetering on the border of blue and grey, the sun still peeks through the clouds and greets you with a diffuse, warm light. You're humming to yourself as you walk down the street, head up to avoid walking into anyone. There's no music in your ears because you want to appreciate the rare sunny days that look like they'll be pulled from under you at any minute.

Your surroundings are familiar, having walked them nearly daily for the past few years, but when it comes to a crossing, you turn left today and instead of right. It's a diversion you take on special occasions- a diversion that takes you to your favourite café in the entire city. They serve the best cakes and pastries that are the cherry on top to anything you have to celebrate. Sometimes it's a promotion, sometimes a birthday and other times just a hard day that you didn't think you would make it out the other side of.

Before it comes into view, your phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey," your best friend's voice rings out through the speaker, "You finished work?"

"Mhm, I'm walking to that café I took you to now," you tell her, "What are you doing up? It must be, what? 2 or 3 in the morning there?"

"Late night at the office anyway with this huge case. I just got home," she sighs and you can finally hear the exhaustion in her voice, "But I also couldn't miss this. I'm proud of you."

"It's kind of a bittersweet feeling," you hum thoughtfully, "Thank you for calling, Han. But get yourself to sleep now."

"Are you at the café now?"

You nod before you realise she can't see you so you affirm verbally as the shop front enters your field of vision. You're met with a surprise that causes a smile to spread on your face.

"Yeah, just got here. I'll talk to you and Taro soon, okay?" you coo at your best friend who bids you farewell before you hang up the phone.

There's a tall figure leaning against the brick wall beside the shop entrance. He's got his hands in both pockets and he's watching your every step with an impatient, but fond stare.

"You said you weren't here yet!"

"Took your time, hm?" his voice is the closest thing that feels like home now until you walk straight into him and wrap your arms around his torso, "Surprise!"

"It's my last time doing that walk," your own voice muffles against his black shirt.

"How was your last day of work?" Sungchan strokes your hair gently as you bury yourself closer.

"I cried a bit saying goodbye to my co-workers," you admit, "But I know this is the right choice. I didn't even mean to stay here this long."

Sungchan hums from above, "Thank you for choosing this, though."

You look around the street you find yourself on in this area of London, knowing it's the last time you'll be here for a long time until you decide to come back and visit.

"Home has always been where you are," you pull away from him to intertwine your hands, "I miss Seoul and everyone there. London has taught me so much, but mostly that I can't live without you. These past 5 months were horrific too."

"Well, we're on the other side now," Sungchan leads you into your favourite café, the one you showed him when he first visited London 5 months ago just a few weeks after your friends' wedding.

You recommend things to order and end up with a generous spread on the table. Sungchan watches with a loving gaze as you arrange the plates to form an aesthetic birds eye view and you snap away with your phone camera.

You handed in your notice as soon as you got back from the wedding, but you had to wait to wrap up the big project that you had just started back then. Sungchan flew to London three weeks after the wedding on a whim and you had spent those two weeks he could work remotely playing house in your apartment in the evenings and showing him around the UK on the weekends. Then, you were apart for 5 months as he saved up his holiday time at his work and you were only connected via late night and early morning video calls to satisfy the itch of being together.

It wasn't always easy, of course. There were some weeks that you were able to spend more time with each other than others and it got frustrating at times, but you always managed to put it back into perspective that it wasn't long until you were reunited again without a looming flight to take you away.

He arrived in London a few days ago, helping to pack up your place while you were tying the last few loose ends at your job. It always felt nice coming back home to him at the end of the day and going back to Seoul feels like such a relief knowing you're going to come back home to him again every day for hopefully the rest of your life.

You and Sungchan share each dish, savouring your last bites for the foreseeable future. He takes photos of you when he thinks you're not looking and you kick against his feet casually. It feels like you're still in your honeymoon phase, even though you should be celebrating 10 years of your relationship this year. To be fair, it's only been 6 months since you've rekindled, but your love still burns bright like it was never encased into a small flicker.

He holds your hand the entire walk home, brushing his thumb on your skin as he talks your ear off about everything and nothing in the world. Being by his side brings you this peace and comfort that you didn't even realise you were lacking, as if your body has just been running on auto-pilot the past few years without him, surviving only long enough until you were finally reunited again.

"Hana's gonna be so excited too," Sungchan exhales, an air of anticipation in his voice.

One thing about you and Hana- you could keep secrets for the benefit of the other. She knew how shocked you'd be when she turned up at your door in London over a year ago with that ring. You decided to turn the table on your best friend, waiting the 6 months until you got back in Seoul to tell her about the ring that was sitting on the ring finger of your hand.

Even your parents don't know yet, wanting to wait until you could tell them in person. In a perfect world, Sungchan would have liked to ask your parents for your hand in marriage beforehand, but considering how excited they were to see you two holding hands and slow-dancing together at the wedding, neither of you think either set of parents would care.

Your mother has been begging for Sungchan to come and visit the house while you've been in London, claiming she was due a catch up with him, but you begged her to relax until you were back in the city.

"We'll have so much to do when we get back to Seoul," you hum along, "Hana and Taro seemed kinda stressed doing all of it too."

"But now they've experienced it, they can help us," Sungchan shrugs and goes quiet for a second before he starts kind of giggling.

Though it makes your heart burst at his adorable nature, you look at him quizzically, "What?"

"We're getting married," he continues that cute noise as he squeezes your hand in a pulsatile manner, "I'm getting married to the love of my life."

You roll your eyes playfully but your cheeks are turning pink as joy blooms in the depths of your bones, "Yeah, yeah, and lucky you, you didn't even have to organise a proposal."

Sungchan gasps and he splats your still-entwined hands over his heart like he was just shot, "Y/N," he whines, "I told you I would organise one! You don't know how much I want to properly propose to you."

You chuckle at him softly and nudge his side, "I'm just playing. You know that our moment was perfect. It was so very us."

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna plan the most perfect wedding for us too," he smiles down at you.

"What did I do to deserve such a sweetheart like you?" you press a kiss into the back of his hand as the two of you enter the tube station together.

You know he hates it whenever you talk about feeling guilty for the past or not being enough for him. You've been working through your feelings over these months, trying to be more open while he does his best to reassure you. But Sungchan gives you this look, just perfectly content in this moment, "I'm just for you, and you're just for me. It'll always be that way. Now let's go home."

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for reading. find my masterlist here & all likes, comments, reblogs and feedback are so, so appreciated <3

[dizzyditzblitz]

a little comf writing with Shadow Milk (Sage of Truth) x Wife!Reader for myself h

tw: mentions of bed rotting, heavy depression, and overall lack of care for one's self. light mention of nudity/undressing, yet within a sfw manner.

did NOT proofread

Something had been missing for a couple of days, yet it was hard for Shadow Milk to really put his finger on it. He was so busy with his students, weighted with work,.... what else was he missing?

Y/N.

His eyes lit up in connecting that missing piece. He felt fairly guilty for not checking up on her sooner, but he quickly made way to their bedroom.

Shadow Milk gently pushed open the door and was hit with borderline complete darkeness. His heart sunk at the vague shape of his wife's back on the bed.

" My love..? " Shadow Milk called out quietly, putting his walking stick against the wall as he approached the bed,

Y/N slowly raised her head, but made no effort to respond verbally,

Shadow Milk let out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding, happy she was still alive,

" Sweetheart.. " His hand found her back, leaning over to look at her face,

The open door illuminated just enough for him to see. And it shattered his heart.

She looked so defeated. So broken. He could feel her hair caked with grease. How cold she was. How she lost some weight,

And his conscience immediately swallowed him whole with guilt for not finding her sooner. But he also scolded himself; this was about her, not him.

" Would you like me to lay down with you..? " Shadow Milk whispered to Y/N,

Shadow Milk slowly stepped over her, scooping her and the blankets she was swaddled in with him. He carefully adjusted her and essentially enveloped her entire being with his,

He made sure she was comfy as best as possible, which prompted the question:

" Are you comfortable..? " He asked,

Y/N gave a small nod, shifting a bit closer to her husband.

Shadow Milk watched her, and his heart ached for her. He hated when she got like this, not because it was burdening to him, but because he knew it was burdening to her.

They kept cuddled for a couple minutes, maybe an hour, until Shadow Milk decided to try and help coax her out of her episode,

" How about I call out for the next couple of days.. and we do your favorite things..hm? " He asked, gently pushing the blanket away from her face,

" I don't want to bother you.. " She finally spoke, her voice barely even audible due to how little she's spoken in the past few days—if at all,

Shadow Milk offered a little laugh, " Nonsense, my love, " He reassured, giving her a little squeeze,

Y/N was too tired to protest, so she gave a single nod, her body weight slowly relaxing again,

Shadow Milk looked at her for a few more moments, remembering she's probably lacked with her personal hygiene and didn't want her to get sick,

" How about I go run you a bath, hm..? " He asked, slowly getting up and letting her lay back down on the bed,

Y/N gave a small noise, whether it was agreement or not, was a different story. Yet Shadow Milk smiled and placed a soft kiss on her temple,

He went and turned on the bathroom light, keeping the door open so she could adjust to the sudden light. The water could be heard running.. and the scent of blueberries and lavender filled the bathroom and their bedroom,

After some minutes, he returned with a small smile,

" Alright, love, let's unwrap you like the precious gift you are.. " He gently cooed, carefully pulling and removing the blankets that kept around Y/N,

She protested a little with a whine but relented nonetheless when feeling Shadow Milk scoop her up. Y/N kept close, her body slowly adjusting to the temperature change; it was cold,

Shadow Milk smiled and brought her into the bathroom. He sat her down on the lid of the toilet seat, placing a soft kiss on her forehead,

" I'm proud of you, " Shadow Milk gently praised, " for getting up and allowing me to help you, " He continued,

Y/N's eyes didn't open despite the praise, nor did she really unfold from the fetal-like position. Instead, she felt her tears slowly fall as if she was trying to express her gratitude despite all things considered,

Shadow Milk carefully kissed her tears away and softly guided her to removing the clothes she had been wearing for the past few days,

Y/N shivered, finally crossing her arms to retain body heat, shivering a little,

" I'm almost done, promise, " He reassured, collecting all articles of clothing and putting them in the hamper,

Shadow Milk guided her gently, trying to get Y/N to use her legs and help ease her body back into moving,

Y/N slowly stepped into the warm tub, her body slowly sinking down into the water and relaxing.

Shadow Milk smiled brightly, happy to see her relax. He carefully let go of her hand and removed his own outfit, tossing his own into the hamper and stepping himself into the tub with his wife, his hair ironically taking up decent space. So he put his hair in a high bun,

Y/N leaned against Shadow Milk, him leaning in return to remind her he was still here; even despite being side by side.

The two settled in the water for a little while until Shadow Milk sat up, grabbing the shampoo,

" C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you washed.. " He explained,

Y/N, due to the lavender and feeling a little better, gave a soft nod and slowly sat in front of Shadow Milk.

Wetting her hair and putting some shampoo in his palm, he began to massage and thoroughly was Y/N's hair.

Y/N melted and even slowly began to doze off as she felt him shampoo and condition her hair. But when he was finished, Y/N opened her heavy eyes when hearing another soap cap pop open,

" Can you stand for me..? " Shadow Milk asked quietly, offering his hand to Y/N,

She gave a silent nod, taking his hand and allowing Shadow Milk to lift her up to her feet; she stumbled a little but quickly caught herself. At least it woke her up a bit.

Shadow Milk softly laughed again and began to carefully wash his wife's body. He was careful, gentle, and made sure he was being respectful and left her dignity intact.

Once all cleaned, Y/N was rinsed off, and all was clean. Well, almost all.

Once more, Shadow Milk grabbed a toothbrush and toothpaste,

" Open, " He requested in a murmur,

Y/N relented and allowed her teeth to be brushed, her head resting a bit in his palm. She rinsed her mouth.

" There, " Shadow Milk mused softly, " my beloved is all clean, " He crooned and gave Y/N a soft kiss,

Y/N returned the gentle kiss, her lips finally pulling into a smile,

Shadow Milk's eyes lit up, hands cupping her face after putting down the toothbrush, " There's that's smile, my sweet smile, " he hushed,

Y/N couldn't help but giggle and snuggle her head in his palms, her cheeks squishing,

Shadow Milk's heart swelled it, knocked him breathless, " Oh how you rival the sun.. " He whispered under his breath.

Y/N's smile stayed, and Shadow Milk carefully guided her out the tub. He helped dry Y/N off, giving her one of his sweaters. It was her favorite.

With both dressed, Shadow Milk put the blankets and sheets in the wash and began to cook Y/N's favorite meal.

It took a little time, but Shadow Milk was successful and gently pulled Y/N out of her depressive episode. He had silently swore and reminded himself to check up more often, and try not to be far too swarmed with work he would forget his love.

His sweetheart.

[eddiazx]

blame it on the alcohol - evan buckley x reader

(because I was inspired by the episode of the Rookie)

It was awkward. It always is when the two of you were in the same room these days.

Buck and you had been broken up for three weeks, but the tension was still fresh and raw. The two of you didn't know how to navigate a professional yet friendly relationship. It would've been easier to avoid each other after the split, but you both worked at the 118 and considered the team like family, so neither one of you had the intention of leaving despite the weirdness.

Chim had suggested the team go out for drinks after a particularly gruelling shift. You would've declined, but frankly, you were tired of avoiding gatherings with your friends because of Buck.

When you knock back your 7th tequila shot of the night, you realize that Chim and Hen were singing karaoke on stage, and Eddie had stepped out to call Chris - leaving you alone at the table with none other than the man you broke up with.

Buck's blue eyes are clear and observing you steadily. Even in your inebriated state, you notice that he had been nursing the same beer for the past two hours.

You blame the tequila when you ask softly, "do you still love me?"

Buck inhales sharply at the unexpected question, but his eyes never waver from yours. "I never stopped."

You blame the tequila again when your eyes start to water. "You think we made a mistake breaking up?"

"Every single day for the past few weeks. I haven't been the same without you."

"Take me home?" You ask, and it's obvious you're not referring to your own too-quiet apartment, but about Buck's loft. Buck nods, signalling to the waiter to pay the bill, and mouthing something at Hen and Chim before he envelopes his warm hand in yours to bring you home where you belonged - with him.

The next morning, you wake to your head pounding and your mouth dry, but clad in Buck's sweater and loose shorts that he had urged you to change into last night. Your face is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat like all is right in the world.

When you roll yourself off of him to settle onto the pillow, Buck slowly blinks awake. His lips quirk up into a hesitant but stunning smile. "Morning. Do you remember what we talked about last night?"

"I do. And I don't regret it." You answer honestly.

"Good." Buck exhales in relief, before he presses the softest kiss onto your lips. He can't help but moan into the kiss; he went three weeks without your touch, so it was the perfect reprieve after weeks of loss and longing. You move to straddle his hips without breaking contact, his morning wood pressing just right against your clothed core.

"I missed you so much, you know that?" You murmur while rolling your hips against his.

"I missed you too. Last night was the best sleep I've had in the past few weeks. Missed having you next to me in bed." Buck admits, thrusting his hips upwards at your pace.

When your hips start moving faster, trying to chase the high, Buck presses his thumb against your clit through the layers of clothes, and watches in fascination as you come apart on top of him. He follows not long after, spilling into his boxers.

You get off of Buck almost immediately, and before Buck can be too disappointed, you're pulling him up and into the shower for another round of make-up sex.

[ophelieverse]

if you are still taking requests I have one:Jace returning to Winterfell to reader,who is Cregan younger sister,to make the “song of ice and fire” become true after his mother told him😌please and thank you❤️

✩ ‧₊˚ and his will be the song of ice and fire

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

-Summary:during his first stay at Winterfell,Jace and Y/n got much closer than they should.Now,after knowing the prophecy about the song of ice and fire from his mother,Jace is determined to make it true with the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.

-Warnings:spoilers of the last episode,reader is a Stark,Jace cheats of Baela(him and reader pull a Rhaegar and Lyanna)smutty time,asoiaf classic warnings.

•-thank you so much for requesting and let me know what you guys think,sending you lots of love

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

On that night in early Winter,as a milky moon shines white above the hills,the snow falls soft to whitewash the gentle slopes and the houses in the valley of Winterfell.The air smells of the last breath of smoke blown out of a fireplace,ice,earth and wood.

It's late,and many lights are already off,but the fire of torches along the streets still shine.The tavern lanterns are also still lit,as are some fireplaces or oil lamps in homes.The world is immersed in the peaceful quiet of that cold night,which already brings with it the algid squeeze of winter now closer and closer.

In the secluded area of the cold godswood,in the gardens of the castle of Winterfell,silence envelopes the floral landscape like a lover embrace and Jacaerys worries that the unrequited sound of his beating heart could be heard throughout the whole realm.

The blood-red leaves in the branches of the weirdwood tree danced calmly in the breezy wind,the snow had stopped falling from the black sky leaving only the white stars to shine.The torches lights were too close and too bright,Jace eyes were hurting and his cold hands were trying to warm up in the ones of his future bride.

The young prince is really trying to focus on the soft words,the promises of eternal love and loyalty,of the Septon that works for House Stark.But they sounded so foreign to him,almost as if they were another language.It’s impossible for him to focus on anything else outside the fact that he’s really getting married.

During his life,Jacaerys has never knew well how weddings ceremonies actually worked,but he was pretty sure that this one,his,wasn’t what people would call a normal one.He has a vague memory of his mother second wedding,just the day after the worst night of his life,but he still could remember a loving couple becoming one in the heart and soul.Promising each other,in the house culture,love and devotion,eternal loyalty.

He also remembered the wedding of his uncle and aunt,Aegon and Helaena,in the big and bright Temple in King’s Landing.How two children spouted oaths that they didn’t believed in,framed by perfect swaths of red,green and yellow.Smiling faces of their families,proud to be reunited for such a joyful moment.Then the celebration after in the castle,the people dancing and laughing,the melodious music and singing,the delights of the night.

Meanwhile this wedding,his,was quiet and rushed.Reserved and in the dark shade of the forest.There are no wonderful colors for decorations,no smiling families members or friends,aside from Cregan who was chosen as a witness to the union,and Jacaerys is in the middle of an icy tundra of suffocating silence.

Y/n is standing in front of him,adorned in pure pearly white just like the snow at her feet.She wasn’t just beautiful,she was otherworldly and vaguely threatening.Bright eyes,rosy cheeks and red lips,hair falling in the wind,the smile of and enchanting enchantress and the nature of a young she wolf.Blue winter roses crowned on her head,she looked like a religious icon,someone people sacrificed themselves for.

Jacaerys had spent weeks with her during his stay in the North and he couldn’t forget her for days.He had engraved her name in the palm of his hands,the way she would laugh with him,the way she carried herself and looked at him,forever in his heart.It was impossible to not grow to love her,the beautiful lady was made of magic and stardust.

The logics and sermons,the words and phrases of the Septon weren’t the one to convince him to swear his allegiance and love,the way she held his hands and softly smiled at him driven deeper into his soul.Y/n had wrapped herself into his ribs,crawling right inside his heart,to keep him warm.

He was born for her and she was born for him.The ice and the fire,it was written in the destiny.

His mother words still echoed in his mind as he looked at Y/n.The song of ice and fire would be the product of their love,a son or a daughter that would have ruled and kept the realm together and safe.Someone who would inherit the blood of the old Valyria,the blood of the dragons and gods,fire and warmth from their father.And the blood of the first men,the old gods,the ice of the true north from their mother.

Y/n was his truth,Jacaerys was the dream,she was the ice and he was the fire.

She made him sick with desire,she always did since the moment he was first introduced to her.With the desire to have her,to possess her,to have her around him forever.And now he had the perfect opportunity,the perfect excuse for his betrayal to Baela and his mother who had betrothed them months ago.

Now he could still believe that he was a good person with a purpose,not only because of his own selfish dream to be with Y/n and to marry her just because her figure hunted his memory and his carnal needs.Because he was growing to love her and wanted to grow old with her.It was for the realm,he was repeating to himself over and over to shut down the guilt,and it would be what he would tell his mother and cousin when he and his new wife would go to Dragonstone after their wedding.For the realm,for the world and the Targaryen dynasty.

Jacaerys is dressed in pure black,trembling in his furry cloak,he’s trying to calm down his breathing that relies heavily through his nose in forms of little white clouds.Idly he wonders if this was a funeral ceremony instead of a wedding,but this was the best they could manage in such short time.

The young prince had came to Winterfell,flying on dragon back,with the last lights of the sun and everything was orchestrated in secrecy as fast as they could.The child that would be born from him and Y/n needed to be fully legitimate,he didn’t wanted to risk a bastard just like he was,not when the child wouldn’t have become the protector of the realm,the one from Aegon the Conqueror dream.

Y/n was promised to Lord Jason Lannister eldest son and Jacaerys was promised to his cousin Baela.Everything of this was the highest of treason but the war was already there and they couldn’t go back now.His mind couldn’t help but circling around and back to the empty and oddly depressing atmosphere around them.

Before them a old and solemn man was going through some chants about the gods witnessing the union and behind them a grand total of just two whole guest.Cregan stood there,wrapped around his cloak,still and silent like a statue,Vermax was a few feet away looking at the scene like he could understand what was going on.

«In the sight of the Seven,I hereby see you these two souls,binding them as one for eternity.Look upon one another and say the words.»the Septon words were spoken with decision under the torches fire.

Jacaerys swallows thickly and feels like he’s been choked by the cloak that now is heavier on his shoulders.A beads of sweats drips down on his forehead and make his hair stuck on his neck even in the cold air.He wants nothing more than loose his collar and breathe deeply.All that clothing is far too stiff and uncomfortable and he feels like a stranger in his own body.He has to tell himself,as he close his eyes,that this would be over sooner that he’ll realize.

His mouth feels dry as he wet his lips before speaking his vows«Father.Smith.Warrior.Mother.Maiden. Crone.Stranger.I am hers,and she is mine,from this day,till the end of my days.»his voice was firm as he held her hand tightly.

Y/n smiled at him,she tried to be brave just like he was.Her hands were shaking in his,her nerves had eaten her alive the whole night,from the moment she had put on her mother old dress,to this very moment.Now she couldn’t go back.

She really started to love Jacaerys,how could she not?He was so gentle with his words,so kind with the way he touched and looked at her,perfect in everything that he did.And the fact that him,such a beautiful and loving man,had chosen her as his wife and future mother of his children,was dream coming true.As a child,she often dreamed of becoming a princess and to marry a prince,just like the ones in her fairytales.

But now she would’ve had to be the future Queen in a kingdom divided in two,with a war that was screaming outside their door.Jacaerys seemed to read her mind,squeezing her hands lovingly and nodding his head to reassure her,in a way to tell her that she wasn’t alone and that they would be together in the bad and the good.

«Father.Smith.Warrior.Mother.Maiden.Crone.Stranger.I am his and he is mine,from this day,till the end of my days.»Y/n pronounced every single word softly without taking her eyes off her husband.

Maybe this was really a funeral because,as she spoke,Y/n realized that there was no turning back now,they would not be just a prince and lady anymore.When did everything became so complicated?She started to get melancholic as she started to register how much her life had changed in few seconds,that the best part of her new life was also the hardest.

Just a few weeks ago she was running around the godswood with Jacaerys as she was teaching him about the old gods and the legends in the north and now all of her dreams and ambitions were threatened by her husband family.A family that she was part of now.

They were supposed to change the world by bringing their child into it,but the world was about to change them and it certainly wasn’t a change for the better.The greens usurping the throne,prince Aemond killing prince Lucerys proves that.

Y/n head was hurting as she thought about that.And she couldn’t forget about the part where both her and Jacaerys were promised to other people.They would be viewed as traitors among his family,his uncle Daemon wouldn’t take the news kindly and he certainly wouldn’t congratulate them.Y/n father also didn’t knew about any of this and she still feared his reaction.

Regardless all of that,of having the world against them.Both Jacaerys and Y/n didn’t cared about all the venomous things people will say about them or the things that they would have to go through,because if they were given a second chance they would do it all over again.They were loving each other too much to let the other go.

«With this kiss I pledge my love.»Jacaerys said to her,moving his hand to caress carefully her freezing cheek.

His lips felt soft and surprisingly warm against her cold ones.And just like that they were officially married in the sight of the Seven and law.

There is no time for celebrations,no music and tables filled with joy,decorations and all sort of foods.Instead they found themselves in Y/n chambers,the one she grew up in,the one that saw her going from a little girl that played with her dolls to a married woman.

The sheets were changed clean,some fresh flowers were put to adorn the headboard and right on the small table at the center of the table there was wine and some fruits.Cregan had to be the one organizing the whole thing as a small gift.

Y/n takes off her cloak and picks up a small red berry.Jacaerys does the same,moving around the room quietly,he raised his eyes and caught her attention with a sweet smile,so tender and yet so seductive,his lips shiny and wet with a clear juice that slowly dripped down his chin.

«Let me help my wife.»his voice sounded more confident now that it was just the two of them and no one else.

The word,wife,made Y/n feel hot against her chest and down her legs.Standing behind her,Jacaerys wrapped her in his arms.She shuddered when she felt his lips on her neck and along her shoulder:she closed her eyes and abandoned herself against his chest,sighing.

«Jace,husband.»whispered the beautiful lady,her eyes closed and her head slightly tilted back.

«From our love will come the child that this world needs.»Jacaerys had said between the kisses«And I will take care of both of you.»he continued.

«You promise?»Y/n voice was just breathless whisper.

«Nothing will happen to you,»his hand crawled down her stomach leaving shivers on her clothed skin,only to stop at her lower belly.

«But…your family…your mother and uncle-»she tried,biting her lip when he started to suck gently behind her ear.

«Our family will understand.»he corrected her«My mother knows the truth and she will grow to love you just like I do,especially after we will make her a grandmother.»he reassured her sweetly.

A shiver flashed down her back and inflamed her loins.The young prince lowered her shoulder strap to discover her breasts and squeezed it slowly between his fingers,flaring in turn as he felt the nipple turged against his palm.

Y/n staggered,her heart throbbing,her breath shortness and her legs were already trembling but Jacaerys was quick to support her:he lifted her in his arms and took her to the thalamus,on which he gently laid her,a splendid candid flower that seemed to fill that place of shadow with light and of which it was impossible for him to do without.

«My beautiful princess,my beautiful wife.»he murmured against her lips kneeling above her,her eyes shiny,her face turned on despite the pallor.

Y/n took his head in her hands,dipped her fingers between his long curly black hair like a crow's wing;she felt his whole body quiver himing,his heart beating fiercely,and like every time he made her understand that he wanted her,a glance was enough for her to make sure of his devotion:she beat her eyelashes darkening the beautiful irises for a moment,licking her lips;she barely curved them,aware that that gesture drove him crazy,she slowly pulled a flap of the dress to herself by uncovering one leg and flexed it,letting the toe of her foot slide down his thigh,continuing to look at him intensely.

Below the fabric of his pants,Jacaerys felt the delicacy and sensuality of her touch.The tremor of excitement that attacked him was violent, lightning-fast:he stared at her for a moment and couldn't resist any longer.He impatiently freed her from the gown leaving her naked and just as quickly he undressed himself,the look that ran longingly on every corner of her body,unable to give up admiring her as the first time and like every time.

«I’m yours.»Jacaerys promised her,whispering against her lips«Nothing will ever take me away from you.»he kissed her sweetly.

She whimpered and her heart started to beat faster«I’m yours.»she repeated.

He sank with his nose and mouth between the curves of her chest,grabbed her soft hips,stroked her thighs and bottom.Y/n flared all up as she felt his lips pop greedily on her breasts,squeezing volupously around one of his nipples as he brushed it with his tongue and teased the other with his thumb.Pervaded with chills,she widened her legs and clawed her fingers on the sheets;she lifted her pelvis sighing,longing for it anxiously.

The pleasure exploded when he began to draw with the arabesque index finger in the center of her body:she moaned,her breasts shaken by palpitations,her nipples turgid and sore from the pleasure of kisses and caresses,the groin and lower abdomen on fire.

Jacaerys stretched out on her,wrapped her every horizon in darkness:all her muscles were pulsing, the heartbeat that became gradually more frenetic from the burning need to love her,to get drunk on her.He looked at her again he could never have satiated himself to admire her beautiful face - and as soon as she returned his gaze,sweet and sensual every time more,the voluptuousness clouded his mind.

He sank between her thighs,tearing a lament from her that he suffocated with his lips;he clinged her tightly in his arms and kissed her with trepidation,proud and passionate as he pushed himself into her.Y/n clung to his shoulders pressing against his chest with her breasts and belly,her thighs squeezed to his hips:she felt like screaming again, but her tongue danced unbridled in her mouth,the movement of the hips energetic against her,providing her with each push a pang of intense,deep,absolute enjoyment.

The prince hands ran over her body with ardor,she felt his fingers demanding and sweet at the same time on the flesh,in the throes of estasy,she could do nothing but indulge in passion,following the fast pace with which he was moving inside,shadow inside the light,light wrapped in shadow.

«Jace,oh my gods!»Y/n had breathed closing her eyes and pulling the hair at the nape of his neck.

Going crazy with pleasure to hear his bride enjoy,Jacaerys pushed with greater vigor,eager to increase her enjoyment to a great demour,excited by her moans and delighted by the fervor with which she clenched herself by scratching his back with her nails.

«Y/n,oh my sweet little wife.»he groaned against her her,sweat covering his forehead.

He loved her,impetuously and madly,letting himself be stunned by her sighs,her heartbeats,her scent,similar to a flower that spreads his fragrance moved by the north wind caress.

Y/n quivered below him,the breast prey to his incessant caresses,the mouth half of his insatiable kisses;she felt his love to pierce her with tenacity,the pleasure to become more and more powerful and intoxicating and when she reached her peak she screamed,overwhelmed by the intensity of that embrace:this time Jacaerys did not hold back her scream and in turn could not hold back a moan as he made sure to release inside of her.

Appealing to the last forces Jacaerys had left,he bent down to kiss her and finally overturned at her side,panting.Exhausted,Y/n abandoned herself against the bed,her long hair spread in waves on her pillows.

Jace hurried to cover her with the sheet so that she wouldn't get cold and smiled at her,as soon as he felt her fingers touch his cheek.For a moment he stood to contemplate her eyes,her lips,her smile...she was even more beautiful,after love.

«Y/n,»he whispered as he came back to hold her tenderly to himself«I love you.»

She sought shelter in his arms,fulfilled and satiated with strong emotions but still eager for him.She placed her head on his chest and let his caress her hair«I love you too Jace.»she answered.

He smiled,placing a hand on her warm and sweaty skin of her lower belly where he hope a new life would start to grow soon«I promise you,our child will change the world.»he whispered.

They fell asleep together,ice and fire united.And the next day they would still be like this,in each other's arms,bound by passion,seduced by love.Creating a new life together that would have changed everything.

[buckysouvenir]

in the hex, episode 9: a new beginning

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n summary: Y/N, a witch with no memory of her true nature, lives a seemingly perfect life with her husband, Bucky Barnes, in a quiet, idyllic 1950s town. Everything seems picture-perfect—Y/N and Bucky are a deeply loving couple, content in their everyday routine. They share playful moments, enjoy simple pleasures, and have a deep connection that feels unshakable. Their life is peaceful, with no hint of anything out of the ordinary. However, things aren’t what they seem. authors note: last episode!!!! i'm so happy and thankful for all the messages, likes and comments! ♡ as promised, if you guys are still interested, i could make some spin offs.

last episode | in the hex masterlist

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

The first thing Y/N feels is warmth.

Not the sterile chill of the hospital room, not the distant hum of machines—warmth. A steady, grounding presence beside her.

Her fingers twitch.

There’s a sharp inhale. The warmth shifts, a gentle pressure enveloping her hand.

She blinks. The light is soft, filtered through white hospital curtains. The air smells faintly of antiseptic. Her entire body feels heavy, sore, like she’s been asleep for too long.

And then she sees him.

Bucky.

Sitting beside her, still gripping her hand. His eyes are wide, stunned, like he hadn’t fully believed she’d wake up.

Y/N swallows, her throat dry. "Hey."

It’s barely a whisper, but it breaks something in him.

Bucky exhales sharply, his grip tightening like he’s afraid she’ll disappear. "Hey."

She tries to sit up, but a sharp pain shoots through her ribs. Bucky is up in an instant, hands gentle as he helps her ease back against the pillows.

"Easy," he murmurs. "You took a pretty bad hit."

Y/N exhales, wincing. "Yeah… I remember."

And she does.

The Hex. Wanda. The illusion. The battle that shattered everything.

She remembers the way Bucky had held her, the way he had whispered for her to stay. The way he had looked at her—like losing her would destroy him.

And she remembers the way she had felt.

How much she had wanted to stay with him.

She looks at him now, drinking in the sight of him. The dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders sag like he’s been holding the weight of the world.

"How long?" she asks.

"Three days." His voice is rough. "You scared the hell out of me, Y/N."

Something flickers in her chest, something warm and aching. She squeezes his hand. "I’m sorry."

Bucky shakes his head. "Just—don’t do that again."

The corner of her lips quirks. "I’ll try not to get caught in a reality-warping illusion again, got it."

A breath of laughter escapes him, but there’s no real humor in it. His thumb brushes over her knuckles, absent-minded, like he’s memorizing the feel of her skin.

Silence settles between them.

Not awkward. Not tense. Just heavy—weighted with things unsaid.

She swallows. "It was real, wasn’t it?"

Bucky stills.

He doesn’t pretend not to understand.

"Yeah." His voice is soft, almost hesitant. "It was."

The feelings they developed inside the Hex—manufactured or not—were real.

And that realization is terrifying.

"It’s funny," she murmurs, staring down at their joined hands. "In the Hex, I thought we had all this history. I thought we were something we weren’t. But the whole time, we were just... teammates."

Bucky is quiet.

Then, slowly, he says, "Were we?"

Y/N looks up at him.

His expression is unreadable, but his grip on her hand tightens. "I didn’t just fall for you because of the Hex, Y/N." His voice is quiet, rough around the edges. "I think… maybe I was already halfway there."

Her breath catches.

Bucky shifts, his fingers brushing against hers. "Maybe I didn’t see it before. Maybe I didn’t let myself. But being there—with you—it didn’t feel fake."

Y/N exhales shakily. "No. It didn’t."

Bucky watches her closely, like he’s waiting for her to say something, to make the call.

"So what happens now?" she whispers.

He takes a breath. "That’s up to you."

It’s an unspoken confession. A quiet truth between them.

Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe they’re still piecing themselves back together after everything that happened.

But right now, in this moment—

Y/N simply squeezes his hand, a small, tired smile on her lips. "Then let’s figure it out together."

Bucky nods, something soft and unguarded in his gaze.

And for the first time in a long time—

They’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.

#taglist: @whisperingashgarden @baw1066 @mirrorballbb @skittslackoffilter @fan4astic @torntaltos @lovebabybellah @annoylinglyaries @thewiselionessss

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode four : participation prize . . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Dual pov . .

Setting: 3 years ago . . 

You looked down at your shoes, the expensive pair the brand that sponsored you had provided for the event of the 'century' they call it, and you just wished mentally you drowned a glass of something to ease your nerves before you got into the car. It was your first award show as an actor—as an official actor, and it was right after your first gig had blown up and a few months after your 4 year relationship with your fiancé had ended. 

You took a deep breathe, sinking into the leather fabric of the carseat, your anxiety off the charts, you didn't know how to react—well you knew you shouldn't react in the first place—all that media training would be for nothing if you fucked up now, and the idea of fucking up in itself made the anxiety boil . . they didn't quite explain what fucking up entails, just not to go againest your brand . .  but what even is your brand at this point?

The media was so unpredictable and so was your newfound fanbase, just yesterday you could remember how much of your fanbase turned on you because you joined the influencer to celebrity train by accepting an acting gig—and now you're being praised—your anxiety grew as you recalled how many friends had turned on you that day, as the trailer released, and now you're nominated for three different awards for your role? How fucking stupid. 

You could hear the cheers of the crowd as the car closed in on the red carpet, and you found it overwhelming—suddenly the makeup on your face, the designer clothes that weighed you down . . felt all too overbearing for you to take . . but as the car door opened and you were guided outside . . you put your best face on and walked down that carpet, because you got this far, might as well live through it. 

Time: 1:23 pm Location: arena

Vil sat down on his assigned chair and table at the Arena, a little sigh escaped his lips as he let his nerves finally cool down, he wasn't normally overwhelmed, he worked hard to trample those feelings of unease, anxiety, and perhaps even a bit of envy down to the mud, to the very corner of his very being, so it would never have to be touched.  

He saw someone in blue, walking towards a table just a bit far from his, and he didn't recognize them—to be fair there were tons of new faces all around, this year has been particularly . .  welcoming, if that's what he could even call it—but he couldn’t really make out their face either . . so maybe he’s mistaken.

An hour has passed, and Vil should be sleeping right now, he really fucking should be—relaxing in his new apartment at The Chateau . . it's newly furnished . . his silk bed sheets—he's pretty sure he's drowned about half a bottle worth of champagne as the announcer seems to be worse than last year, why do they feel the need to prolong every second possible and yet give the winners less than 30 seconds worth of time to speak?

Time: 3:33 pm Location: arena

You feel sick to your stomach, sitting alone at your table—you don't know if it was on purpose, or if the people who were supposed to be sitting beside you just hadn't bothered to turn up for tonight's event—or if they were ignoring you, your not aware at all and that just made your anxiety so much worse. 

You honestly felt sick, you haven't even eaten anything just in case you threw up . .  and yet right now, that seemed to be affecting you worse, the emptiness in your stomach made you feel weirdly uncomfortable, and yet you couldn't get up, not when your category was so close to being presented—what if your seat was empty when the camera lands on you? What would the people say? What would your sponsors do? What would— 

"And the winner of best lead actor in a romance film—", the announcer fiddled with the envelope, opening it and throwing it somewhere on the stage, "Y/n L/n!"—everyone started clapping, and for a second all of your surroundings went still, your body stilling from shock and your breathing for the first time in the whole night regulated back to normal . .  after all this fucking time it all felt . .  okay. 

You wanted to cry, tears of joy. You didn’t. And made your way up to the stage like a rational person. 

Time: 3:35 pm Location: arena 

Vil stares at you coming up to the stage, the way you struggled up the stairs—because of course you did—the way your shoulders seem to shake just slightly, and how you gulped on screen—so unprofessional . . you looked like you were about to cry . . and that made him feel . . angry? Angry. 

Vil clenched and unclenched his fists as he leaned back into his chair mumbling, "They look like they're going to break down", and Rook turned to face him, here on attendance in place of his wife, "You got all that from them climbing the stairs?", he asked with a raised brow, drinking his . .  whatever that was. 

“I’m an actor, of course I did.” 

Perhaps it was anger, maybe even envy . . or maybe he just hated that he liked looking at you—or your voice—or .  .  . Vil’s mind went quiet for a moment. 

And bitterness washed over him, he was never upset with losing an award, no not since he’s been in and out of therapy but something about losing to an influencer hurt him—hurt his pride, someone who stood on camera for 30 seconds doing little to nothing . . beating him. 

Wow, way to wreck a man's pride. 

Vil turned to face you as you walked back, eyeing your every movement . . Did you know you walked weird? At a 30 degree angle to be exact.

Rook mention <333

Sorry for the late update our wifi was so slow making and downloading graphics was actually hell and I had to eat.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

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© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[tossawary]

There's a really quick joke in BTAS that genuinely got me. It's in the episode "Eternal Youth", where Alfred and his girlfriend(?) Maggie Page go to a health spa being run by a mysterious woman named Demeter. Of course, this turns out to be Poison Ivy.

And when Batman has to go to this spa to save Alfred and Maggie, and he's confronted by Poison Ivy as she reveals herself, he says (I'm paraphrasing because I can't remember exactly) something like, "Only you, Poison Ivy, would name yourself after the Greek goddess of plants."

Poison Ivy has two henchwomen in this episode (who unfortunately never show up again) calling themselves Lily and Violet, also present. And either Lily or Violet responds, with something like, "Ooh, someone graduated high school literature."

And then the confrontation continues, but that joke fucking got me, because that IS a common level of mystery-crafting in comics and also this show specifically. Superheroes apparently have to know their Greek and Roman mythology (not just because of Wonder Woman's rogues) because there's a high chance a villain is going to pretentiously name some project by looking up mythology in an encyclopedia.

It also makes me think that it must be REAL easy for the Gotham rogues to frame each other for anything, which is sure to cause grudges and fights between them if it gets found out. Everyone has conveniently themed themselves! Maybe it fools Batman sometimes and maybe it doesn't!

"Aha, a green envelope with a purple question mark! It must be the Riddler again," says Robin. "When did he get out?"

But Batman just inspects the card and says, "Wrong type of paper. Wrong shade of green. Nygma is picky about the quality of his printing. Someone picked this card up from the greeting card section of the local pharmacy."

"Oh, huh, you're right," Robin replies. "Holy marketing mistake, Batman, why do they even sell these?"

"I wish they wouldn't."

[damn-stark]

Chapter 11 Eternal eclipse

Chapter 11 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- This chapter was an emotional one to write, more than the previous one

Warning- ANGST, talks of violence and death, thoughts of suicide, spoilers for season 2, Remember this is a rewrite not an AU, so the major stuff that happens in the show will happen here :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader (platonic of course :), OC x Fem!reader

Episode- 2x03

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

What sweet escape is there from the deafening echoes of your father’s screams torturing your every waking second?

What mercy will erase the violent memories of him getting violently beaten to death?

What trick can you play on fate so it can cut your life line and stop you from hearing your father's last words repeating again and again, adding to that merciless torture?

“Don't look…baby.”

What is the answer to all your loaded questions? If it was not Abby, then what?

You look around the clinic bathroom for a quick answer, something that will let you join him quickly, but you find nothing until…you look past your reflection. There in the depths of that steaming bath water is your answer…

Nothing can be as painful as the torture you went through, and will go through from here on out, so there’s no hesitation or fear. You were supposed to undress and wait, but you dip in the bath, getting quickly enveloped by the steaming water, and seeing darkness when you close your eyes.

A part of you expects all that grief and trauma to follow you, but there’s a peaceful abyss in the darkness, so you sink under and wait to finally be complete with your family.

It’s the only way to know peace again. It’s the only way to end the pain that awaits you. It’s…the only way to be with him again…

Yet…you can almost muster a laugh when you hear the door open, letting in fate’s intervention. Your husband, Apollo.

Said man sees you completely sunken in and reaches in to pat your shoulder, making you rise from the water and not care to wipe the water off your eyes when you open them. You just sit there with your eyes downcast and dark, with the horror still clinging to you.

“I told you to wait for me,” he says the same way he’s been speaking to you since you reunited in the middle of the street; softly and like he’s afraid that if he speaks any louder, he’ll hurt you in some way.

“At least you helped by loosening up that dry blood,” he adds so he knows he’s not scolding you, he’s just reminding you kindly of what he told you—“I'm going to start with your face, okay, my love?”

You don’t respond or acknowledge him, you simply sit still as he rubs soap on the rag and then gently touches your face to gently and slowly scrub your father’s blood off your face.

“Maria and Tommy will be back, they just have to take care of other things around town,” Apollo fills the morbid silence. “Our friends will come visit soon, and my dad will take Teddy home later. If not, Maria said he can spend the night with her.”

Finally, after a long silence, you shake your head, letting him know without a need for words that you want Teddy to be home, and he doesn’t argue against it, not in your state.

Apollo would actually not dare to try and upset you at all, thanks to Maria and Jesse, he knows why you returned home in such a disarray. He doesn’t know what exactly happened or how exactly you got hurt, but he knows enough to ask for time off work to be with you and be extremely gentle with his words and actions.

He wants to know how you ended up getting hurt, but he can’t bring himself to ask, so he has no choice but to wait to read the reports. Until then, he just washes the blood off your face, and when there’s no trace of red left, he moves onto your hands, skipping your throat because the nurses had cleared that area when they tended to your wounds. However, when he starts scrubbing your hands, he notices how filed down your nails are, and the cuts on all ten of your fingertips, almost as if you had scraped your fingers until they bled.

Once again, he doesn’t ask; he just tends to you quietly until finally you lift your eyes off the water and pull one hand away to start signing.

Now, he doesn’t know as much as you do, but he knows the alphabet, so he understands when you sign, “ELLIE.”

“Oh,” he gasps and lets his hand hang over the bathtub to give you the answer you seek. “She had some broken ribs. They’re tending to her now by the best doctor, Mia,” he lets you know with a smile in hopes you’ll mirror it, but you just express faint relief and a light nod.

“She’ll need to stay here until she heals,” Apollo continues to share. “Which is good knowing her. She’d probably try and get back to work tomorrow.”

You nod again in agreement and then pull yourself closer to the edge of the tub to ask after someone else.

“DINA,” you sign, making Apollo continue scrubbing your hand.

“She’ll be fine. The drugs have worn off, and they'll tend to that frostbite on her hand,” he lets you know, making you let out a short and deep breath of relief before you continue to look down at the water.

“And you,” he adds sweetly and with another sweet smile. “Will get to go home today. There’s no need to stay with a bruised throat. I think you’ll be more comfortable at home anyway.”

Home…

It’s supposed to bring you peace. It’s meant to be an escape from the everyday commotion of work and this apocalyptic life. You hoped with every fiber of your being that it would be an eternal escape anyway, and in some way, it is some escape. Home does offer some peace, but only because it offers sanctuary from the outside world.

You don’t fear that the infected will roam the streets, that’s not why you don’t leave home when you step foot in it. Home doesn’t keep the violent and painful memories away; no, you have those every day and every night.

When you close your eyes the first night at home, you think you’ll be in that peaceful abyss once again, but you end up back in that lodge, seeing your dad slowly slip away right in front of you.

Every single night it’s like you’re being tortured, feeling every raw ounce of grief and crippling pain. It reaches the point that Theo needs to start sleeping in his own room so he wouldn’t be startled awake by your screaming. You had advised Apollo to do the same, but he refused to, so every night, like clockwork, he wakes up to you screaming and offers you the comfort of his soothing embrace.

Apollo is the sweet reminder that you’re not there again, so you keep him close. Being near him or in his embrace eases your pain and makes days easier to navigate, but he’s not enough to ward away your paranoia. It’s why you don’t leave home for three months, because home is a sanctuary. Home keeps you from failing your dad again, it keeps you from being taken back to that lodge again and watching him get beaten to death.

Albeit eventually, sometime throughout those three months, Apollo has to return to work. He’s the head of the construction unit now, you see, because the previous one died, so who else can fill his shoes but the man he mentored?

Yet you’re not alone. You’re never alone when he’s gone. If it’s not your Uncle Tommy, it’s Maria, or Mia. Even Dina is around sometimes, but you’re never at home alone.

That would annoy anyone; it would annoy you when it hit a certain point, but why would a corpse be annoyed?

That’s what you are. A shell of a person who has a beating heart, working lungs, but no soul. It was sucked right out of you, leaving you roaming the earth like a corpse.

You do eat, but hardly. You take care of your son, but every achievement he makes passes over your head. You listen to Apollo, your Uncle Tommy, Maria, your friends, and Dina talk, but you never respond to anyone besides mindless nods and blinks.

Life just passes by. The snow melts, the bitter coldness begins to leave, and day by day spring slowly takes over the earth, but everything might as well be bitter, dull, and lifeless because you don’t bother to care.

It comes to a point where everyone who loves you, except for Ellie and Jesse, meet up at your house to talk about you, thinking you’re busy putting Theo to sleep. Albeit he's quick to fall under the spell, so you overhear everything that is said.

“It’s been 3 months, Mia,” you hear Uncle Tommy raise his voice at your friend. “If something is wrong with her, you need to tell us.”

“N-No,” Mia argues. “Nothing is wrong with her. Her wounds have healed. She should be able to talk now.”

“Then?” Your uncle quips with worry.

Mia sighs, and there’s a moment of silence before you hear Gail, Mia’s adopted mom, speak up for her daughter. “It's a trauma response. She may not be doing it on purpose. It’s her mind's reaction to everything that happened that day, but now it all depends on her. You can’t force her to speak. She needs to decide on her own.”

“And if she never does?” Maria asks with the same concern that everyone in that living room carries.

“Then she never does,” Gail puts it bluntly. “But either way, I’m going to start her therapy tomorrow. That's what you still want, Apollo?”

A second of silence passes before you hear your husband speak. “Yeah. We've been putting it off for long enough, and I…I don’t know how to help her anymore. Her nightmares don’t stop, and I…I don’t want her to suffer anymore. She doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t eat. I…don’t want this to take her. So please. Come.”

Tears slip from your eyes, and you rest your head against the wall as you take in his words and think about everyone gathered in your home, worried about you.

You don’t want them to be worried. You don’t want to be a burden. It’s all just…impossible.

Life…without him…

If you make a sweet escape, no one will worry. You’ll be no one’s burden, and most importantly, you’ll be with them again; Sarah and your mother, whom you never got to meet but was your dad's great love, according to your Uncle. Most importantly, you’ll be with your dad again. You crave that sweet afterlife so dearly…

An end to the pain…

However, one of the reasons you don’t take that path suddenly stirs awake and looks up at you with his father's sweet eyes, making you wipe your tears off your cheeks and muster a soft smile.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

And then, in the silence of the day is an interruption. A disturbance in your day-to-day life.

Yet even though you were broken from the spell you were under, you don’t move to open the door after a visitor rapped their fist on the wooden door. You don’t pretend to be busy, you remain seated in your rocking chair with your blanket covering your legs and your crocheting project in the same state it’s been for the past three months, just a square.

The visitor, on the other hand, walks into the living room trailing after your Uncle Tommy, revealing themselves to be Gail. As predicted.

“Hello,” she greets as she walks past your Uncle to stand at his side and face your pathetic state, and since you can’t speak, you just offer her a tight-lipped smile before you look down at your crochet square and pick up the needles to pretend to be busy.

“Well, make yourself at home. I’ll be close by,” your Uncle Tommy interjects in the awkward silence, taking no time to turn away and walk off, leaving you alone with Gail and her intentions, you really don’t plan to entertain.

“Well, you can put that shit down, we both know you weren’t doing it before I got here anyway,” she says bluntly, making you pause and wait a moment before you drop the needles and keep looking away.

“We’re also not going to pretend that you don’t know why I’m here. You’re smarter than that, so get up and come with me.”

You draw out a deep breath and slowly raise your head to face her with a glum look, making her think you’re going to give her a hard time, but you pull the blanket off your lap and toss it on the couch before you rise off your seat.

“Good,” she praises you and doesn’t fret to walk off. You follow after her at a normal pace, not giving much thought to her grabbing a bag next to the doorframe, and not asking questions about where she’s taking you. You follow her until you notice that she’s heading to the backyard. That's when you stop in front of the back door, hoping that the door will close behind her, securing you inside, but Gail is quick to notice that your footsteps are not trailing after her, so she turns and manages to catch the door before it closes.

“Come,” she beckons you outside. “Just to your backyard.”

You step back, telling her that you refuse to follow along now, but she takes a step past the door as she keeps it open, and hardens her gaze.

“There’s no point in making you,” she argues. “But if you want to be difficult, I will be difficult right back. Come. Outside. I need you to see something.”

You think about her threat and know she means it, but what is her persistence compared to what she wants to show you?

You have an idea as to what she may want to show you after all, and even the thought of it makes you want to cry.

“Ellie gets out of the clinic in a week,” she then cuts through the silence to share that bit of information about a girl you haven’t gone to see in three months.

“Do you want her to see you the way you are? Is that the example you want to give your sister?” She cuts deep, forcing you to think about what she said and come up with an answer, which is no. You don’t want her to see you the way you are. That’s not the image you want her to have of you after she gets out of the hospital.

You want her to see someone…handling her grief. An example of strength so she can be so and know that it will be okay. Yet how can you be the very picture of that with the way you look now?

Thus, you drag out a deep breath and step forward, making Gail offer you a tight-lipped smile before she continues her path outside.

This time, you trail after her, and the moment you step outside, you gasp deeply as you’re hit with the simple touch of fresh air. You then immediately shield your eyes from the sun’s rays breaking through the branches of the great oak trees that live around your backyard, and duck your head whilst your shoulders tense up as you’re offended by all the noise that travels through the sky.

When you finally manage to catch up to Gail by the garden of wildflowers, your discomfort slowly washes away. The sun still slightly burns your skin and bothers your eyes, and the noise is just as annoying, but you don’t let it drive you inside. You let it all be as you keep your eyes on the vivid green leaves that decorate the oak tree.

“Look down here and tell me what this garden means to you,” she gets right to business with a strict and professional voice.

You remain defiant though and let your eyes wander the trees, feeling the sun stop burning and start feeling warm and kind against your skin.

“Look,” she presses with her voice raised, and so you proceed to blink and drag your eyes down, but you keep every feeling, thought, and memory at bay.

“So?” Gail probes.

You simply shrug, making her sigh and crouch to study the little yellow rue flowers that take part in the great wild garden.

“I think these Rue flowers are lovely,” Gail shares her thoughts, making you cross your arms over your chest. “When did you plant these?”

You don’t say anything, of course and since she already knows the answer, she continues for you.

“Was it after you came back five years ago? They’re very pretty.”

You bite your lip and glance away.

“These purple ones are really nice too,” she adds, and so you grip onto your arms and keep your eyes averted.

“Everything is just so lovely. I think there’s a purity to flowers. Grace. A resilience and a rather dependable beauty in this new life. You know? Infected roam the earth, bad people live amongst us, but this…these flowers are something you can always count on when you want to see something so perfectly beautiful. Furthermore, when you can’t see them, at least you know they’re still here, growing tall even through it all.”

You look down and see the picture she paints with the flowers. You can understand everything she says, but every personal meaning you have connected to all that’s beautiful is still kept away.

You meant to lock it away in the dark corner of your mind, but you weren’t strong enough, so it came rushing down. The only thing keeping it from completely crushing you is your fight to keep it at bay.

“Oh, ok,” Gail sighs and pushes herself to her feet before she pulls out something small from her bag that fits in her balled hand.

“If this doesn’t mean anything, then you won't mind if I torch it, right?” She says and catches all your attention.

“Tell me,” she huffs and reveals a match and a striker as she opens her hand. “What does this wildflower garden mean to you?”

You watch her pull out a match and hold it up between her and you.

“The yellow flowers are Rue flowers. You planted them with your dad in memory of your mother. Am I right?” She asks, and since she doesn’t get an immediate answer, she answers for you. “Yes, I am right.”

You swallow thickly and drop your arms to your sides to ball your hands tightly in defiance of what she threatens to bring out.

“The rest of these beautiful flowers are a reminder of who you’ve lost, right? Right.” She nods. “But mostly your sister. The one you and your dad adored. The one who looked after the both of you. The one you would spend breakfasts with just before she had to go to school and your dad had to go to work—”

You shake your head, and your eyes begin to sting along with your throat as your mind slowly gives signs of pain.

“These flowers aren’t just a reminder of her. But of that life with her and him. They’re the reminder that no matter what, your sister and now your dad will always be with you. Even if the flowers themselves aren’t showing, you know that they’re still here, underground, in the same way your dad is and will always be here. With you. Even if he’s not alive, he’s still here…with you. So what if I torch it?”

She won’t do it.

She won’t dare to, so you don’t give her what she wants or what she threatens to set free.

You remain defiant, so she chuckles maliciously and lights the match before she holds it up between you and her again.

“You think I won’t do it?” She reads your mind and smirks at you before she tilts her hand down to let the match dangle between her fingertips.

“Watch me,” she snaps, and you see her loosen her grip, making your heart begin to race with fear.

“I won’t let it burn my fingers,” she adds and looks down at the match before, in the blink of an eye, she lets the match go, causing your eyes to widen, and a breath to catch in your throat seconds before you reach over with the attempt to catch it.

Albeit you’re too slow, the match hits the ground, and the flames don’t hesitate to start wanting to consume everything in its path. So before they can kill the beautiful wild garden that holds everything sweet and hopeful, you quickly stomp out the fire and look at her bewildered and with tears welling in your eyes.

“Tell me,” she insists softer, and this time, after she almost took it all away, you feel it break like a weak dam.

Everything you tried so hard to keep away comes bursting out like a cascade of water, and when that happens, there’s no way of trying to put it all back in. It’s too late and impossible. Everything comes apart.

Every attempt to keep every feeling back washes away. The memories of the day you lost your dad are loud, and his last words are even louder, but it’s every single memory where he wasn’t being tortured, where you were happy, and when he was simply alive, that consume you completely, dragging you under the surface where you can’t breathe because of the emotions that come rushing up your throat, and where you can’t see because of the tears that cover your eyes.

The only way to breathe is by coming up for air, so you do. You surface and take that breath, and when you do, you can’t help it, you start to let out a mighty, painful wail like never before as if you had been holding everything back and only now were able to let it out.

It hurts. It really fucking hurts. It’s like every part of you is on fire, but you can’t stop. You let it all out and continue to wail for the father you loved and lost.

You lose your balance and fall on your knees. You almost fall on your hands, but there to catch you is none other than your Uncle Tommy, who had been on standby by Gail’s instructions.

“It’s okay, baby girl. It’s okay.” He whispers as he cradles you. “I’m here.”

You grip onto him and part your lips to utter your first words in months. “He’s…he’s gone,” you say hoarsely and wail again before you bury your face in his chest and sob like the day he died.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “He is, but never forgotten.” He whispers, and you cherish it as you weep and continue to weep. The pain of grief and loss doesn’t wash away with all your tears, nor does it just go away when you muster the will to speak again. Maybe grief will be a long companion, but the wildflowers are vivid with color, the sky is a sweet hue of blue, and the sun is brightly yellow.

“I think…these flowers will look just perfect in your garden.” Your Uncle says after Gail left, and you were able to stop crying, and able to pull yourself away. “Don’t you think?” He asks and pulls out a couple of lovely blue Irises still connected to its root, begging for it to be part of the dirt so as to not die.

“Gail brought them for you to plant,” he says, giving you the answer as to why Gail was carrying a bag that she left here.

“Where should we put them?” Your Uncle asks and brings the flowers down to a spot already occupied by many a flower. “Here?”

You scoff and remark at him hoarsely. “Are you jokin’?”

He sniffles and flashes you a sly grin before he gets on his feet, making you mirror his actions.

“There,” you point out and lead him to the spot to give your new flowers a place to thrive.

After a while. After you planted the Irises and spent time in your wildflower garden, basking in the sun your body has lacked for three months. Apollo comes home from work, finding you and your uncle sitting on the bench swing.

“Hey,” he says with an air of disbelief and hope as he sees you outside for the first time in months.

“Hey, Apollo,” your uncle greets your husband as he walks over to join you by the bench swing.

“Hi,” you still can’t get your voice to sound clear, but it’s not like it matters to Apollo; he still looks at you with shock, pride, and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he gasps and quickens his pace to reach you faster, making you get off the bench swing to let him embrace you and undoubtedly hug him back.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” he coos as he holds the back of your neck with one hand and rubs your back with the other.

“Teddy?” You ask for your one-year-old.

“He was sleeping, so I put him to bed.”

You hum before you hug Apollo tighter, not saying it then, but demonstrating how much you love him.

You can’t even begin to fathom how alone he must’ve felt in the time you didn’t talk, and you were there physically, but mentally, you just weren’t there.

He could’ve given up or not been so patient, but he never complained or turned his back. He held you every time you woke up screaming and when you’d cry in the middle of the day.

“Well,” your uncle breaks you and Apollo apart, but you don’t stray from one another. He keeps his arm around your waist and you tuck your hand in his coat pocket—“I’m going to head out now. You’ll be okay?”

You sigh shakily and nod ever so lightly. “Yeah. Tell Maria not to come tomorrow. I…don’t know what I’m going to do, but I know I don’t need to be looked after anymore. Thank you.”

Your uncle scoffs. “Of course, Sunny. Don’t mention it, but how about dinner, then? At our place? It’s okay, don't bring anything with you.”

Without needing it to be discussed, you nod to give your uncle the okay, making him smile before he begins to head out.

However, before he can leave, you break away from Apollo to catch your Uncle in an embrace. “Thank you, Uncle Tommy,” you whisper shakily.

“You don’t have to mention it okay?” He assures you. “It was nothing. We’re family. Always.”

You nod, and he holds you closer before he interjects.

“You remember where we put your dad to rest, yes?” He asks.

“Yeah. I remember,” you let him know and then pull back. “Get home safe.”

He scoffs and nods before he waves Apollo goodbye and then leaves, leaving you and Apollo alone in the garden where you look at the flowers and think of everything you need to tell him. Everything he needs to hear after three months of you being…not here.

“Apollo,” you don’t hesitate to say, and look away from the flowers to meet his already attentive gaze. “I—”

“Don’t say it,” he cuts you off and closes the gap to be face to face with nothing but an inch of space left between you—“it was really nothing and we made a promise to each other the day we got married. For better or for worse,” he repeats those sacred vows. “I meant them and I live by them not only because you’re my best friend, but because I am in love with you and I couldn’t abandon you when you needed me most.”

You move in, leaving no gap left to be able to grab his hand and be physically connected. “But that’s it, you didn’t abandon me, and for that I will always be grateful. So thank you…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

He shakes his head and brings his other hand up to cradle your cheek with his warm palm. “And you don’t have to. Ever so don’t look at it that way because you’d never want me to see it that way. Right?”

“No.” You shake your head right away, making him flash you a smile before he lets your hand fall to hold your face with both hands and keep your eyes on his so as not to stray even an inch.

“Tell me, what do you feel now?” He asks.

You cup his hands and sigh. “Like I’m here…my heart was beating and my lungs were drawing in air before, but I was never here. My body was only an empty shell. But now…now I’m here and it hurts so much worse, but,” your voice trembles. “I want to try and…make it hurt less. I want to keep talking to Gail.”

Apollo sighs with relief and then caresses your cheeks. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “Really. I’m proud of you.”

You draw in a shaky breath before you drop your head on his shoulder, letting him press a gentle kiss on top of your head before he wraps his arms around you once again.

“I’m here,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you whisper back and let a silence linger before you break it with a desire. “I want to go pay my respects. I want to see my dad's grave.”

“Of course. We can go whenever you want.”

“Now,” you blurt and pull away to find his gaze. “Please.”

Once again, Apollo is too kind, he gives in. “Okay. Let me just let our friends know. They want to accompany you, if that’s okay?”

You nod. “Yes, of course. I’ll get Teddy ready and we can go.”

He hums, and without delay, you do as you agreed upon. You wait for Teddy to wake up first, and then after he’s ready, you gather your friends, ride out of town, and find yourselves in Jackson’s cemetery occupied by all of the loved ones everyone’s lost.

You have never had to come until now, but you find no trouble in finding your father. You wish you had struggled to find his grave to have time to process the fact that he’s buried here and that you’ll never get to see him again, but you find his name amongst the row of other dead and instead linger behind to take time to process the fact that he won’t be waiting for you, or meeting up with you. You have to walk to his tomb placed where he’ll be forever. Even when you’re nothing but bones as well.

No one rushes you, though. They let you take your time and wait with you until you’re finally able to approach the tomb.

“Hi Daddy,” you greet, and for the first time in thirty years, you cast a shadow over him. “I know…it’s been a while. I know I wasn’t here when they buried you, but…I’m here,” you cry and crouch down, reading the words carved on the wooden tomb.

‘Joel Miller’

‘09-26-1967 - 01-01-2029’

‘Beloved Brother and Father’

“I’m sorry,” you blurt after you read the carved letters. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I,” you stammer. “I did try. I’m sorry.”

Footsteps close in on you before a shadow casts over your figure, swallowing your shadow before you feel a warm hand on your shoulder as they crouch down by your side, revealing themselves to be Apollo and Theo in his arms.

Apollo doesn’t proceed to say anything; he just stays by your side with his hand on your shoulder, stopping you from saying everything else you had to say, everything that was already written out in your mind after months of thinking about it, and leaving you with that weight on your chest.

“Teddy, why don’t you put the flowers down for your grandpa,” Apollo tells Theo, who’s already come to visit your dad with your Uncle Tommy and Maria.

“Just there,” Apollo instructs your son before letting him go, making you hand him a bunch of yellow Rue flowers that Teddy places down without a struggle.

“Good job, Teddy,” Apollo praises him, making the boy turn to smile with glee, and causing you to clap for him and his great achievement.

“Good job, baby,” you follow up by saying as you wipe the tears off your cheeks and offer him a sweet smile, making the boy get the idea to walk over to you to hook his arms around your neck and cling onto you instead of his dad.

“You did good,” you whisper to him and cradle the back of his head, remembering at that moment the first time your dad saw Theo and held him.

He was so happy that you thought his heart would give out with joy. He also struggled to hand Theo back, so you thought he’d leave with him.

Now…your son will grow up and not even remember him. He’ll know him by all the things you’ll tell him. Other than that, he’s too young to remember how much your dad absolutely loved him, all because…

You drop your head and hold Theo close as if seeking that embrace from your father in someone who’s a part of him. You know it will never be the same, but a part of your dad lives in your son.

“Why,” you pause and clear your throat of that ball of emotions caught in your throat. “Why don’t you say hi to Grandpa?”

Theo pulls away, but keeps one hand around you as he turns to face the tomb. “Ha,” he tries his best to say. “Ha!”

You giggle and kiss his cheek before you stand up with your son in arms, causing Apollo’s hand to slip off your shoulder before he slowly mirrors you and stays by your side.

“I will follow you,” Atlas breaks his silence as he sees you on your feet. “If you want to get justice for what those bastards did, I will follow you.”

“I will too,” Mia proclaims, abandoning her mother-like role in your friend group and showing a fierce and dangerous devotion. “I follow you too. It wasn’t right what they did.”

You keep your eyes on your dad's tomb and hear Mia’s husband chime in next.

“I know I joined your friend group because of Mia, but you’re special to me now too. All of you. And Joel was a good man. I will follow you too.” He pledges and all their words warm your heart. They make you happy, and they let you know that even if you’ve been a bad friend for the past three months, you can still rely on them like before.

Yet as touched as you feel, you know revenge is not what you want.

“Thank you,” you interject and pull your eyes off your dad's tomb. “Thank you, all of you, for your support. I appreciate it more than you know. I do.” You nod and then sigh deeply. “But,” you pause and look at each and every one of them. “That’s not who we are. I’m angry. Sad beyond measure, but I’m not going to gain anything going after the woman who…killed my dad. That’s not going to make my pain any less, and that’s not what I want Teddy to know either.” You express yourself with confidence because no matter what you feel, you know that’s not the path you want to take. That’s not who you are.

“Thank you, though. It really means a lot,” you add softly and look back at your dad's tomb, feeling that weight on your chest push down so heavily that you feel it pushing on your heart.

You don’t like the feeling, but you can’t find a way to get rid of it. Not even finishing what you were sharing before you got interrupted would have been the solution. They were just a manifestation of what you feel and have been feeling, so you don't know what the cure is.

It’s not revenge.

Is it time?

Or…

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“You don’t think she’ll be mad at me, huh, Teddy Bear?” You ask your son rhetorically, but he looks over at you and blinks as if processing what you asked.

Teddy ultimately doesn’t respond, so you don’t prolong the moment; you secure the bag of goodies around your shoulder and then knock on the door and wait.

Moments later, there’s a response from the other side of the hospital room.

“Come in.”

You open the door and slowly push it open, revealing to Ellie, the patient, that it’s you. After three long months, it’s finally you.

“Holy shit,” Ellie gasps as she sits up straighter and looks at you with her eyes wide. “I thought you were dead. Or completely forgot about me.”

You close the door behind you after you walk in and then respond to her absurd comments. Which are reasonable, but it’s still absurd.

“No,” you argue with your voice still a hint hoarse. “I just…”

“Lost your voice,” Ellie cuts you off more seriously now. “Yeah, I know.”

You set Teddy down and he doesn’t hesitate to roam, taking advantage that he’s not being held, whilst you approach Ellie with your lips drooped and your eyes dull out of guilt and shame.

“It’s not only that,” you share. “It’s…I…felt guilty,” you confess and rob Ellie of her smile and make her slowly frown. “You shouldn’t have walked in seeing that and me on the floor not being able to…uhm,” you pause and clear your throat to avoid crying more than you already have. “Well…stop her. I should’ve,” you pause again and put down your bag of goodies as you stop at the edge of her bed. “I should’ve stopped her even if it had gotten me hurt or killed.”

Ellie stares at you hard for a moment, with the wheels behind her eyes churning fast as different thoughts form.

“For that, I’m sorry,” you finish saying and drop your eyes to try and fight back the tears that well in your eyes, regardless of your attempts.

“I think Joel would have died with you if you died saving him,” Ellie says softly, pulling your eyes off the ground to look at her with sadness—“and,” she continues. “It was a tough situation, so don’t apologize. Besides, he wasn’t my dad. He was yours. I should be the one who’s sorry.”

You take in her words and take a seat beside her to hold her hand.

Ellie looks down at your touch with surprise, expecting an estrangement now that your dad wasn’t alive to keep you talking to her, or expecting anything else but your touch.

“You loved him,” you argue with a small and wobbly smile. “And he loved you. There’s nothing to be sorry about. You lost him too.”

Ellie’s eyes flicker down to your interlaced hands before she meets your watery gaze and breathes out shakily as if dropping a mask that hurt her so much to carry. After that, for the first time, she moves in and surprises you with an embrace.

There’s no awkwardness. Just vulnerability that she lets you see, just like that time after David.

Yet it’s that same vulnerability that makes a different kind of guilt creep in. Yet, you don’t let it affect you at this moment. You hold her tightly, feeling a spark of bliss in your heart that only she was able to make you feel.

“You know…” you pause as you sniff her. “You smell like sweat.”

You pull back and study her face, catching a sheet of sweat glistening over her face, proving that what you smelt was right.

“I hope you haven’t been doing something you’re not supposed to,” you manage to tease her. “My best friend is the doctor of this clinic.”

Ellie scoffs and shakes her face with an obvious lying expression. “Nope, I’ve been sitting here…all day. Every day.”

You know she’s lying, but you’re not annoying about it. Instead, you pick up your bag of goodies and then place it over her legs.

“That’s for you,” you let her know with a happy little smile. “Before the outbreak, if you were in this situation, people would’ve brought balloons and stuffed animals, but this is now, and you get out in a week, so,” you breathe out and pat the bag. “I brought you a bag with foods you like and things to keep you entertained. This last week will be hell, so I think it’ll help make the days pass by faster.”

Ellie groans as she grabs the bag to rummage through it, causing Teddy to walk over with curiosity. “Wouldn’t your doctor let me go now? I feel so much better.” She says.

“Sorry.” You offer her a pitiful frown. “But that’s something I cannot make her do. Trust me. Unless you want her pestering you for a week.”

“No,” she grumbles. “They already check on me more than they should.”

You look over your shoulder to make sure no one is coming and then look at Ellie again as you pick Teddy off the ground and sit him on the bed. “I’m sorry about Dina,” you finally address the situation you’ve overheard Dina ramble about the times she’d visit. “I can maybe start giving her the cold shoulder,” you offer. “Albeit she did visit me and stay with me so…maybe I can keep it strictly professional.”

Ellie scoffs as she pulls out a brownie and breaks it in half to share with Teddy as he grows ever so curious. “Nah, I…learned not to be bothered by what she did. It’s Dina. I assumed she’d forget about it. It’s okay. However, I am sorry she visited you.” She says with a teasing look.

You shrug. “Well, I was out of it, but it was nice. We…share a memory that will always keep us connected, so I’m quite touched she went. It’s Jesse whom I haven’t seen. Has he come to visit you?”

Ellie nods with her mouth full, thus making crumbs fall out of her mouth just like Teddy. “Yeah,” she says with her mouth full. “Plenty of times.”

You hum and wonder again why he didn’t visit you. It’s not like you were impossible to reach, you never left your house.

But alas, you push it aside for now and face her with a faint smile. “After you’re out of the hospital, you are welcome to come stay at my place if going back home is difficult.”

Ellie swallows her snack and slowly lifts her gaze to find yours with nothing to say. She just sighs as her face grows serious and glum.

“Thank you,” she offers you, with no say if she’s going to accept your offer or not.

You don’t pester her about it as long as she knows that’s an option.

“Have you gone to his house?” She asks and looks at Teddy as he asks for more of her brownies.

“Uh,” you swallow thickly. “No. Not yet. I thought about going after this, but I-I don’t know. Maybe...”

She hums and grabs another brownie to share with Teddy.

From there on, you can’t think about anything else but stopping by at your dad's house. You argue with yourself between wanting to go and waiting for a different day.

Gail says it’s okay to take things slow. You’re talking again and no longer trapped in your trauma, so you shouldn’t want to do everything at once, but it’s been three months. That’s what you keep telling yourself until you decide not to go.

You’ll go on a different day, maybe when Ellie goes.

Alas, after the hospital, you find yourself in your dad's street, slowly walking up to his house, fully expecting to see him sitting on his porch enjoying the warm sun until you reach his house and see old and new flowers, drawings, and notes in front of his house in his stead.

The porch is abandoned and has a cold shadow covering the wooden chair where he liked to sit and where you found him for the last time, just at the start of the New Year.

Maybe if you walked to the front door and knocked he’d answer, you thought foolishly until you once again noticed the dozen of notes and bouquets left in memory of him, becoming a cruel reminder that no one would answer the door. No one would sit on that porch again to play the guitar in the sun, or try to fight his sleep as he tried to read.

Maybe if you went inside, you’d feel like a part of him was still there. All of his stuff has gone untouched after all, but when you approach the end of that driveway to prepare to walk to the front door, you come to a sudden stop.

No matter how much you wanted to move, your grief would not let you take a step forward because you knew he would not be there. You knew that you’d no longer have dinners at his house or have movie nights. You'll no longer come and find him and Teddy asleep on the couch, and you’ll no longer have someone to share a cup of coffee.

His house will be alone and a harsher reminder of what you won’t have anymore, so instead of going in, you hang around the fence to read everything everyone wrote and let Teddy see and touch all the things that call his attention.

There’s things that make you smile, but there are more things that make you cry as you read how much he impacted everyone who lived in Jackson.

It all brings you close to finding the strength to walk inside, but alas, you still can’t, so you linger where you are for a moment. When you get ready to leave, you hear someone walk over, so you stop and pretend you don’t hear.

That is until you hear Jesse say your name, causing you to turn and face him with Teddy in your arms.

“Jesse,” you greet with a hint of joy and the hint of a smile, but it’s a blink and you’ll miss it type of smile.

“Were you just coming out of your dad's house?” He asks as he glances over.

“No.” You shake your head and steal a glance at the house before you look at all the things and then at him. “I…couldn’t…you know? But it’s okay, Gail says it’s okay to take my time.”

Jesse nods in comprehension and gulps before he glances at the ground and doesn’t prolong the moment. “I saw you walking out of the clinic, and I thought I’d follow you to uh, tell you first, I’m sorry that I haven’t gone to visit you.”

You watch him and hang onto every word, but wonder why someone usually so confident is struggling to speak.

“And two…I’m sorry,” he says in a quieter voice than the one you’re used to hearing. ���I should’ve gotten there sooner. Maybe that would’ve made a difference. Maybe he would still be here and you would have your dad, but I didn’t even catch the ones who did it. For that, I’m so deeply sorry,” he shares what’s kept him away with genuine guilt and shame.

“Oh, Jesse,” you whisper and close the gap between you to grab his shoulder so he can at last look you in the eyes—“you did nothing wrong. Nor do you have anything to be sorry about. Maybe if you had been there you would have gotten hurt too, or worse. What happened that day happened for a reason. So please know that I have never blamed you. I actually wondered where you’ve been.”

He scoffs. “Trying to think of the right thing to say,” he shares. “I just couldn’t bring myself to face you. We are patrol partners after all. Friends too. I just…felt ashamed I let my friend down.”

You smile softly and gently shake his shoulder. “Well, as your friend I want to tell you that there’s nothin’ to be ashamed about. Ok?”

Without making things hard, he nods in comprehension, so you offer him one last smile before you let him go and bring up a question. “You workin’?”

“I have some time until my next shift,” he says, so you nod and then share what you have in mind.

“Okay, cool, come over. I was just thinkin’ about gettin’ some lunch.”

——

*A WEEK LATER*

“You need to take that goat back to the barn,” your uncle tells you for the…third time. Not like you’ll listen or consider it. “It’s goin’ to get attached to ya…more than it already has.”

“What should I name it?” You ignore him as you look at the 1 week old baby goat who was ignored by his mama. “You know that some people believe goats are the devil,” your uncle tries to spook you so you'll leave the goat be, but you get a bright idea for a name.

“Ha, Lucifer!” You snap your fingers. “Isn’t that such a good name?” You tell the baby goat over your shoulder, as it doesn’t fall behind.

“Don't worry,” you now address your uncle as you glance at him trailing at your side. “It’s just until it’s weaned and just while I’m here working on the farm.”

Your uncle sighs since he knows better.

“It seems you're slowly getting your color back,” your Uncle points out as he smoothly changes the subject. “You feelin’ stronger?”

You nod softly. “Yeah. The sun doesn’t bother me anymore, and I’ve been trying to push myself when I’m doing my work.”

“Ok, but as long as you’re not straining yourself,” he warns. “Continue to take things slowly. You’re in no rush. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You huff and flash him a smile, leaving a short silence as you approach the area you’re working at to fix the chicken coop.

Albeit when your eyes land on the area, there in the fenced area between the cows and the chickens are Dina and Ellie.

“Maybe you should give that same advice to someone else,” you whisper to your uncle as you both know that they’re up to something since Ellie is here just after she got out of the clinic after three months.

“If she asks what I’m guessing she’s going to ask, then I will,” he responds before you reach the area and acknowledge both girls.

“Hey Dina,” you greet as you open the fence door and walk in with the goat trailing behind you and your uncle trailing behind the goat.

“Hey…aw! Hello there, goat!” Dina says back with more enthusiasm for the goat than you.

“Ellie, I’m glad to see you’re out and about after just getting out of the clinic,” you direct at her, causing her to offer you a feigned smile.

“They said I should get fresh air,” she quips, making you feign a laugh.

“Girls,” your Uncle greets them. “What brings you out here on your day off? And on your first day out of the clinic, Ellie. Weren’t we all gatherin’ at Sunny’s house later to welcome you?”

She nods faintly. “Yeah,” she brushes him off. “But later I won’t get the chance to share what I just learned, so thankfully you’re both here so I can save some breath.”

You and your uncle share nervous looks before Ellie spills what brought her to the farm while you and your Uncle are working. And it’s nothing good.

It seems Dina finally told her about the girl and her friends who killed your dad, and now Ellie is requesting what you were afraid she’d want. Revenge.

That’s why you haven’t told her about what you know and why you told her you forgot, blaming everything on the trauma of the day. Yet it seems Dina doesn’t have the same precaution in mind. She doesn’t seem to know Ellie like you know Ellie, or else she would’ve never told her.

Alas…Ellie knows, and now she’s here telling your uncle and you to go with her to Seattle, so maybe Ellie doesn’t know you.

Yet you don’t turn her down right away and tell her that. Nor does your uncle turn her down either. Whereas Ellie makes your uncle genuinely ponder, you walk away to grab more wire and pretend to be thinking about the plan when, in reality, you just need time to breathe and gather your thoughts as memories of that day threaten to flood your mind.

You think about Abby, Owen, Mel, Nora, and Manny too. You see their faces every day, but you don’t see red like Ellie. You see betrayal, guilt, a deep aching pain, and a great sadness that threatens to take you down by adding to that unbearable weight that gets closer and closer to crushing your heart.

You hurt differently than it hurts Ellie, and that’s the only reason why you return to where they are to listen, but not even consider it.

“Well?” Ellie questions you and your uncle after you come back, making you put the wire down and take a seat next to your uncle before you bend down to pick the goat off the ground and cradle it in your arms.

“I gotta think about this,” your uncle breaks the silence, saying what you were going to lie about, so you end up being quiet and let Ellie retort.

“Think about what? Let’s fucking get these guys.”

Your Uncle glances over at you as you keep your eyes on the goat, as you try your hardest to fight your emotions.

“Ellie,” your Uncle argues and looks away. “It ain’t that simple. The town is still recovering. So are you.”

“Uh, we get where you’re coming from—” Dina interjects, but gets caught off by Ellie countering with annoyance.

“No, we don’t get where you’re coming from, I don’t get where you’re coming from.”

You clench your jaw and start to caress the baby goat while also slowly starting to rub your thigh.

“If it had been you, or her,” Ellie refers to you too. “Joel would be halfway to Seattle before the sun came up.” She argues, but she argues wrong. She argues completely wrong in your dad's defense. He might’ve been an angry man. He might’ve had a reputation, but he…wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t take a path toward revenge. He only got defensive.

“He’d be halfway to Seattle to save our lives,” your Uncle counters correctly. “But when we lost people, no. It would just break him like it was his fault. I saw that time and time again. And don’t talk to me like I didn’t know him. He was my brother.”

There’s a silence where you finally pick your head up to look over at Ellie, catching her sigh and averting her gaze, which in turn makes your uncle continue more gentler and understanding.

“Listen, I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t do this. But if we’re gonna put a posse together, we gotta do it right, which means taking it to Maria.”

Ellie’s jaw drops as she’s about to argue against your Uncle, but your Uncle beats her to talking, knowing what she had to say. “Yes, it’s fuckin’ necessary…”

You scoff softly and smirk in amusement.

“She’s gonna want a council meeting,” your Uncle continues. “Open it up to the town. Everyone who wants to get heard gets heard.”

“But you two will back us, right?” Ellie asks, and you catch the hope in her eyes.

Yet even that doesn’t change your mind. Albeit, you still lie and nod so she doesn’t argue with you.

“Of course, I will,” your Uncle gives his genuine response, releasing some tension off Ellie.

“Come here,” your Uncle says as he gets up to wrap her in an embrace that she seems to be tense in for a few seconds before you see her ease.

“And you,” your uncle directs at Dina, keeping to herself in the distance. “You hold out information on me again, you got rendering detail for a month.” He warns her as he and Ellie let go, making Dina scrunch her nose.

“Alright,” your Uncle puts an end to the matter, making Ellie and Dina walk away with the attempt to leave, albeit your Uncle stops Ellie before she can walk past the gate.

“Ellie. We buried our dead ten miles south of town. If you want to visit him.”

You let the goat go and continue doing your job.

“When we're on our way to Seattle,” she says and then leaves after Dina, leaving your Uncle with much to think about.

“You’re actually considering it?” You ask after you made sure Ellie wasn’t near anymore.

Your Uncle pushes himself off the fence and then answers. “‘Course. I’m not thrilled that she wants to pursue revenge, but if she wants to ask the council for permission, I’ll give it to her…will you?”

“I don’t have a say,” you deadpan, making your uncle sigh.

“No, but Apollo does, and what you say goes,” he says what you know and what you were pretending to be dumb about—“Will you tell him to accept?”

You don’t stop working, you keep going and give him a simple answer. “You want the truth? No. It’s not good for her to go down this path. It will get her hurt or worse.”

“Yes,” your uncle quickly argues as he approaches you now. “But if we deny her, she'll find a way to do it behind our backs. It doesn’t end well when you try to forbid the young ones from doin’ something. You were the same, and Teddy and any other kids you might have will be the same.”

You finally stop what you’re doing and look back at him. “I heard her out,” you quip. “I was about to walk away, but I heard her out. I will continue to hear her out when she speaks to the council, but my answer won’t change. She won’t like it, but it’s something I’m more than glad to risk…and it’s because I love her. Now, can we talk about something else and finish this?”

Without any more arguments, your uncle keeps his thoughts to himself to respect your choice.

Later that day, when everyone gathers in your house for the get-together you threw for Ellie, she asks Apollo the same thing she asked you, and he gives her hope since you hadn’t discussed it with him, but your Uncle is right, what you say goes. Your voice is heard one way or another through your husband, and he makes sure to ask for your opinion the next day when you’re lying in bed before you have to start the day.

“I want you to vote no,” you don’t hesitate to share without a doubt. “Whatever she might say, vote no.”

Apollo takes in your words and debates them himself only because Ellie is trusting him with this important decision that may or may not depend on him, and saying no feels like hurting her in some way.

“What if she gets the votes regardless,” Apollo brings up, so you drag yourself back, causing his leg to slip off yours, and feeling a hint of coldness as you pull your head away from his chest to face him with your gaze pointed.

“Then she gets them, but at least I’ll know I tried to put my foot down,” you rebuttal and look into his eyes, catching his doubt, so you sigh deeply and argue in your defense.

“What will getting revenge do?” You ask him. “It's not going to heal her grief. It’s not going to bring him back either. She’s just going to get hurt or worse. I get that she’s angry, I am too, but that’s why we handle it. We don’t chase people across the country for something that can’t be undone.”

Apollo sighs deeply and nods stiffly. “I understand,” he mutters. “She’s just putting her trust in me, you know?”

You swallow thickly and nod. “Yeah, I know. She’s putting her trust in me, too, but we’re the ones looking after her now, Apollo. We have to watch over her and make sure she doesn’t get herself killed. She deserves a good and long life. She won’t get that if she leaves.”

Apollo’s eyes linger on you, letting you see his resolve over the matter, but making you feel bad that he also has to go against her.

“Thank you,” you whisper and cup his cheek before you stroke your hand back to cradle the side of his head, making him smile a loving smile as he strokes your chin and then grabs the back of your head, letting you take that as a sign to nuzzle against him again.

“Will you go today?” He asks with worry. “You don’t have to, I’ll vote no.”

“Mia and Atlas are going to sit with me,” you let him know. “And either way, I’m there to support Ellie. I’ll hear what she has to say.”

He hums, and you go quiet to enjoy the little time you have left in silence before you have to get up. After that, you start your day, and the council meeting approaches soon thereafter, meaning you don’t have to handle your nerves all day. Thankfully.

Yet the same topic Ellie brought up the day before with your Uncle Tommy is brought up again, and you get uncomfortable as violent memories threaten to overwhelm you. You almost get up to leave, but you muster the strength to fight them off because your friends are with you to remind you that you’re not in that lodge, and your dad is no longer suffering.

You’re okay, and he’s…dead…

“Which is why I keep saying we need to invest more in turkeys and less in chickens,” Scott, a Jackson Hole resident and speaker for today's council meeting gets off topic, which you kind of enjoy so the matter can be delayed and your decision along with it—“and that brings me back to my earlier point about corn. Corn, some of you have heard me say, is not the easiest crop to grow, but it’s among the fastest. You can plot a graph that shows ease and resources versus time to harvest and get a li—”

“Scott,” your Uncle cuts his rambling off. “I’m sorry, but we gotta keep you on target here.”

“But it’s an open meeting. The bylaws say that—”

“Maybe we should stick to what everyone else came here to discuss,” Maria interjects now.

“I don’t really have an opinion on the Seattle thing,” Scott inputs now, ending the matter once and for all.

“Okay. Thank you,” Maria says and moves down the list of speakers. “So, that was Scott. Next is Rachel.”

You shift in your seat and keep focused, but as murmuring goes around the room and a baby goes fussy, you can’t catch a word that’s said. If it even was said.

“Can’t hear you!” Someone shouts for the entire crowd, making people go quiet and causing some shifting to happen before you finally hear Rachel’s voice.

“I said that Joel meant so much to so many of us. But he wasn’t the only one.”

You blink repeatedly and drop your eyes to your hands clasped on your lap.

“I-I lost my sister that day,” Rachel continues to say. “A lot of people in here buried family. And now, you wanna send, what are you saying, 16 of our best? Well, while they’re gone, who’s gonna be on the wall if Raiders come? A wall that’s barely mended. And none of you up there can promise us that all 16 will come back. So my heart is with you,” she says and says your name along with Tommy and Ellie’s before she finishes sharing her opinion.

“We are too hurt, and it is too soon.”

You sigh and lift your head to look at Jesse, Apollo, your Uncle, and Maria, all up on that platform as Maria brings an end to Rachel’s time.

“Thank you, Rachel. Next is Carlisle,” she moves on, making the old man stand from his seat to address the crowd.

“I’ll be quick,” he clears his throat. “‘Cause this one’s simple to me. People came and killed Joel. So, why wouldn’t we wanna take our vengeance?”

You clench your jaw and sigh deeply with distress caused by the worry that he’s going to encourage the request.

“Well, because we’re not supposed to.”

You peer over your shoulder and look at the man as he’s caught you by surprise.

“Forgive and be forgiven. No grudges. No revenge. And I’m not even a Christian. I’ve always seen the wisdom in that. That’s what separates us from the Raiders, and the murderers. Our capacity for mercy.”

You take in his words with relief, hoping that his honest and wise words will sway the council to vote no.

Yet your relief is then turned to anxiety when Seth, of all people, cuts in.

“Those sons of bitches don’t deserve our mercy.”

You clench your hands into fists and gain Apollo’s surprised and worried gaze from his place on that platform, so you end up holding in what threatens to break you and express the same surprise, but also share your anxiety on the matter.

“Well, of course they don’t deserve it,” Carlisle argues in between all of the crowds murmuring. “That’s what makes it mercy.”

“Well, to hell with that,” Seth exclaims as he gets up. “And to hell with you for saying it, Carlisle.”

“Seth, sit down,” Maria tries to bring an end to the interruption, but Seth becomes a pain in the ass and holds his ground.

“No.”

“You’re not on the list.”

“No!” He screams louder, causing you to drop your head and exhale deeply.

“What the hell are we all talking about here?” Seth continues. “Boo-hoo, it’s not fair. What, we gotta forgive everybody when they show up and piss in our eye? They came into our house. They took one of ours. My God, somebody shoots your brother, you wanna take the locks off your doors? Grow up!”

You begin to nervously rub your thigh, to the point that Atlas notices and tries his best to try and reassure you by putting his hand over yours.

When you feel his touch you look at him and offer him a faint thankful smile before you wrap your hand around his to keep clinging onto that support as Seth goes on.

“You idiots, they’ll come back. They’ll come back because we didn’t make ‘em pay. And when they come back, they’ll be laughing. And you’ll all deserve it. Bunch of goddamn victims.”

The old man sits down, bringing down an awkward silence that you almost want to leave, but you hold on and listen to the last speaker, Ellie.

After Maria finally gives her the floor, she makes the room go silent for a minute before she gets up and pulls out a paper that she reads off of. Surprisingly enough.

“I normally don’t write things down,” Ellie starts off by saying. “Because I normally don’t think before I talk, which has gotten me in trouble before, a lot.”

Oh? She’s rhyming?

“And it’s cost me in ways that sometimes couldn’t be undone. But I can’t afford that right now because I know what I’m asking is a lot. I’m asking us to risk more people and resources, and at the worst possible time. And I want everyone to know, it’s not because I want revenge.”

Oh?

“It’s not,” Ellie tries to make her lie clear, but she’s not fooling you—“what I want is what you used to give people. I want justice. Because it’s either that, or we do nothing. That’s what everyone else out there is going to do for us. Nothing,” she says with more passion. “A whole world of people who won’t lift a finger if something bad happens to me or you. We have a word for these people. They’re called strangers.”

Atlas snorts quietly over Ellie’s words, so you let his hand go and slowly glare at him, making him go serious right away.

“Well, I don’t think that we’re strangers to each other,” you hear Ellie continue. “And I want to know that I can count on you. And I swear, if someone hurts any of you or the people you love, you can count on me...”

You take this time to smile in amusement at Ellie’s complete bullshit attempt to sway the council's vote.

“…that's what holds all this together. Not potluck dinners or New Year’s Eve dances. Definitely not a wall, because that thing got busted through. But Jackson is still here. I’ll accept whatever the council decides. But I’m asking you, please…do what it takes to see that justice is done. Not for me. Not even for Joel. I am asking you, please do it for us,” she finishes her letter in an emotional ending that she even adds tears to. Whether the tears are genuine or not you don’t know, they probably are but that won't change the fact that it’s all still bullshit.

“Thank you,” Maria tells her, bringing an end to the discussion to finally move on to the voting—“The council will now vote on the proposal to send a party of 16 citizens to Seattle to find the people who killed Joel and execute them.”

As the voting begins, Apollo steals a glance at you, and you steal a glance at him and trust he’ll do what you asked, but it’s the others that make you nervous and make you sit at the edge of your seat as if that would help. It only makes you more anxious.

Either way, like watching a clock, the process seems to move more slowly than anticipated. A couple of minutes drag on, and you almost can’t take it, but alas, all the votes are given to Amy-Beth, the one person who will share the votes with the crowd without fear that she’ll lie.

“Amy-Beth?” Maria encourages, and so said girl starts.

“Yes.”

You swallow thickly and sit up straighter.

“No. Yes. No. No. Yes. No, no. No. No. No.”

You let out a shaky, relieved breath and sit back without that fear clinging onto you a moment longer.

“The vote is 8 to 3,” Amy-Beth clarifies. “The proposal is rejected.”

Murmurs spread around the room, but no one interjects this time because the word is officially given now. There’s no do-overs, just disappointment from only a handful of people. The only one you care about, you don’t look at though. Not yet.

“Adjourned,” Maria releases the meeting, making people not linger back. Everyone but the council and you get up, causing a cluster of people as they all want to leave at the same time. That’s why you finally drift your gaze to Ellie, so your gaze won't be detected as she's leaving.

Alas, when you look at the other side of the room where she had been sitting at, you actually end up catching Ellie’s gaze.

You try not to read too much into it. You don’t want to catch the betrayal she feels because, instead of getting at least 4 definite votes in support of her, she only got three, and it was obvious to guess that you lied and voted against her. You haven’t been able to look at her all day. All you greeted her with was a quick good morning, and you sat at the other side of the room with your best friends at your sides.

You lied and made Apollo vote against Ellie’s request. Against the one thing she desperately wanted. The one significant matter that required your support more than anything, and the one matter that she trusted you to have her back on, but you lied and turned your back on her and that hurt and betrayal is plain to see because of the dark shadow that cast over her face as if intentional so you won't miss a thing.

Alas, as ashamed as you feel. You feel no regrets. You’re determined to stand your ground, and that’s obvious to Ellie as the sun keeps basking your face as if…intentional.

——

*LATER*

After the council meeting, you had purposely stayed behind, welcoming people’s pity and sweet consolations to avoid facing Ellie’s disappointment and anger, but you can’t hide forever, and when you return home, sitting on your porch steps is Ellie waiting for you.

She makes herself easy to see and makes sure you know that she’s not here for pleasantries. She knows you know why she’s here, so you hand Teddy to Apollo and usher them inside.

Once the front door is closed, leaving the porch just to you and Ellie, she is quick to get to the point. “Why did you do it?”

You draw in a deep breath and turn away from the door to face her and exhale deeply before you respond. Or at least you try to, because just as you part your lips, she cuts in abruptly.

“You said you would support me, and you had Apollo vote no, why?” She asks as you see her teeter over an edge where her balance all depends on what you’re going to say.

“Because I don’t want you to go down that path,” you say, and manage to keep her from falling into a pit of anger. “I know it was messed up to lie, but it’s not like you would change your mind if I said no that day you asked.”

“No,” she interjects before you keep going.

“Exactly—”

“But you still lied,” she cuts you off with a narrowed glare. “You said I would get your vote to go get justice for Joel, and instead you want me to, what? Sit idly by?”

You shake your head. “No. I want you to grieve the right way, Ellie. I need you to open yourself up to letting yourself grieve.”

Ellie scoffs and shakes her head before she snaps, causing her grip to loosen. “So what? So I can turn to you and be depressed and pathetic for three months?!”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel her words stab your heart.

“Do you not get what I’m trying to do?” Ellie continues to argue, raising her voice with the anger that seeps through. “I’m trying to get justice! You were there! You saw them! We have to make them pay!” She exclaims almost desperately.

“I was there,” you interject this time before she keeps ranting. “I know! I live through that day of my life every day and every night. I see their faces and see him die over and over again. I,” you pause and sigh to collect yourself and try to explain your reasoning behind your protest.

“I miss him too,” you say instead. “But what you want to do won’t get him back. Nothing you do will get him back, so why risk your life? Why risk anyone else’s life over it? Revenge won’t make you feel better, Ellie.”

Said girl holds your gaze with annoyance before she shakes her head and retorts. “That’s a whole bunch of bullshit and you’re a liar. If you really loved Joel, you would have voted yes,” she doesn’t hesitate from saying, making you gasp softly and feel your eyes immediately well with tears as you feel a sharp heartache.

Yet you don’t dare and use such harsh words like she did. You keep your head up and watch her give you her back.

“I’m going to do this with or without you. I don’t care,” she grumbles and walks off the porch, expecting no response, but before she can leave, you blurt.

“What about all the risks my dad took for you to be here? Will you just make that go to waste? Because if you go, there’s no chance you’re coming back. You will get hurt, or worse, so what will make those sacrifices he took to save you?”

Ellie stops in her tracks and keeps her back turned to you for a tense silence that seemed to drag on for hours, when it's only been a few seconds where you unknowingly lose her in that pit of anger.

“You know,” she mutters before she slowly turns to face you with her face contorted with rage and her eyes oozing with that terrible and blinding feeling.

“You know why he made those sacrifices,” she continues sneering as she strides back to you. However, you don’t let her make it all the way to the porch because you meet her halfway.

“Why did those people kill him?” She suddenly asks something she’s never hinted at wanting to know. She asks for the first time, letting you see a flicker of sadness in her eyes this time.

“The truth,” she blurts as her eyes well with tears, and you gulp and falter.

“They were…after revenge,” you put it simply because you’re sure there’s no shortage of people your dad pissed off. “Just like you’re after revenge, that’s why—”

“Oh shut up,” she hisses and steps forward while she keeps holding your eyes with her watery gaze and pinched eyebrows. “They were from Salt Lake…right?” She asks as she begins to slowly uncover the truth you never got to share, and the truth that threatens to unveil something else you kept a secret

“Right?!” Ellie snaps, making you blink and lower your gaze to nod stiffly and hope she doesn’t probe about the other matter.

“They killed him because of what he did, right?” She asks, getting closer to that secret.

“Right,” you answer, and look at her so she doesn’t catch anything suspicious.

Nevertheless, your attempts are futile.

“And you knew what he did?” She probes as she narrows her gaze to a glowering glare. “You knew and you lied, right? That’s why you were never mad at him, and you…” she scoffs and holds her chest. “And you told me you didn’t know. You let me believe that I could trust you. Right?!” She exclaims, causing you to let out a shaky breath and nod.

“Right,” you whisper shakily before you step toward her and grab her hands to try and make her understand. “But I need you to understand that I did it for you. I was too late to stop him, I wanted to, I really did, but I was too late, so why would I mortify you even more by telling you the truth? So I kept it from you so you could have a good life. Ellie…you deserve a good life. Please—”

“You were too late,” she repeats and nods stiffly before she huffs and spats hurtful words. “It seems you’re always too late. Always too weak. That’s why Henry is dead,” she hisses quietly, making you slowly let her hands go as you're hit with disbelief.

“And that’s why Joel is dead,” she hurts you with those last words, feeling as if the knife in your heart got twisted for something you already blame yourself for. All because you tried to stop her from walking away, and all because you brought up your dad's sacrifices to have her be here.

You unknowingly opened a can of worms, and now you’re the one hurt because of it.

“I won’t sit by like you,” she spats and points her finger at you as tears finally break out of her eyes and roll down her cheeks. “I will make them pay, and I will hate you,” she sneers. “I will hate you for the rest of my life.”

She turns around swiftly and storms away, leaving you more hurt by those words than what she said before, because it feels like another great loss.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Seattle anyone?

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @maplecohen @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @hardbeingcasual @rana030 @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @sunsumonner @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl @g4ns3y @izzzzy-the-amazing @aphr0d1teh @lovelyygirl8 @ivy-taylorsversion @mmkkzz @avitute @fuckmebobboys @kitdjarin1

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jungkook x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.  inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up.

part one: the storm, the envelope and the granddaughter ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ next. masterlist

i. the storm

  for the first time in a long time, your eyes flutter open to the golden curtains of the sun and not the blaring noise of a royalty-free iphone alarm. the rays are harsh and welcoming all at once, as you blink away the stinging sensation and adjust to the muddy path ahead. there was no mistake about it, the town withstood an unforgiving storm last night. however, mud coating the wheels of your bus seemed to be the only indication, as you became distracted with the kiss of summer from the skies above and the clear cerulean painted across cotton candy clouds. 

  memories of amber valley became bygone over the years, as memories always do. but, amber valley seemed to be a long lost chase you haven’t won in years and the older you became, the town disappeared entirely. it was like the smell of your favourite scented markers and the feeling rumbling at the pit of your stomach on the first day of school - nothing but faint ideas from your childhood. 

  “we’re not going to visit grandpa this summer?”

  at age twelve, you couldn’t fathom missing out on the midsummer festival or being away from your horse, marshmallow. for that age, absolutely everything felt like the end of the world, whether it was missing an episode of your favourite show or not getting an invite to a classmate’s sleepover. it was a little different for you, though, as you looked at your dad’s dull eyes. they’d been dull since the divorce went through that february. they never shone since and that’s how you knew things weren’t going to be the same.

  he shook his head at you, but never met your eyes. “no, i’m sorry. he’s coming up for to the city at the end of july, though - “ it would be later in life, precisely at age 25 and months removed from your grandfather’s funeral, when you would learn that he only began coming up to the city to regularly see a hepatologist, “ - so you can see him on your birthday.”

  you did, in fact, see grandpa for your birthday and for the rest of the years to come. he laughed with his whole body and his smile never failed to reach his eyes when he gave you updates on the farm and amber valley. grandpa did his best, but time passing came with you losing your bright eyes whenever he spoke fondly of his town. it was inevitable, when the big city enveloped your teenage self and you became more concerned with interests that come with the turn of youth - clothes, parties and boys.

  now, there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of those ideas. you stood by this at heart, embracing femininity and defending it alongside your love for science and life. you grew up and began wearing high heels to dates, to university lectures and finally, to your 9-5 on the busiest corner of your city’s financial district. you had long outgrown your riding boots, likely tucked away at the back of your closet in your studio apartment. you began just politely smiling and nodding when your grandfather shared local amber valley gossip about individuals who were just names to you now, also tucked away at the back of your mind.

  even though you eventually grew past the age where you needed your parents’ permission to make the trek over to amber valley, past the period of time where your mother refused to speak to your father to coordinate your trip to see your grandfather, the idea of returning to the valley never crossed your mind. like summer camp, it was something you thought you didn’t need anymore and preferred spending your school-less months with your friends in your hometown, working away at your first part-time job and getting your first ever drivers’ license. a seventeen year old city girl wouldn’t want to waste her summer at her grandfather’s old farm.

  “mrs. oh’s husband just left the valley for his deployment overseas. may god watch over that family.” it was one of the last times you saw grandpa, late on christmas eve when everyone else went to bed. your mom, her new husband and your little sister had bade their goodnight’s by 10pm and left the two of you sipping honey lemon tea by the fireplace. 

  your mom’s new husband made a lot of money. that was one of the first things you noticed about him and it was so different from the two bedroom inner city apartment you were raised in. it was certainly different from your grandpa’s farmhouse, where the television only got three channels and all of the windows never fully opened because they would fall apart entirely if you pulled too far. you and your grandpa mused these thoughts on their white leather couch, when the conversation slowly moved back to how the old farm was going.

  you tried to sound interested. “oh really?” the reality was you couldn’t remember if the oh family was the one that ran the general store or the one couple who seemed to be constantly fighting, on the verge of divorce.

  grandpa grunted in response. “mhm. thankfully, they have jungkook helping out around the store. ah, the wasted potential with that boy, but such a kind heart.”

  “jungkook..?”

  “oh, you remember him! the two of you would always bike by the beach,” he said. “i’ll never forget, you two would always come back and show me the seashells you collected that day. always made a competition out of everything.”

  he chuckled and you joined in, hiding the despondence for being unable to recall. grandpa didn’t seem to notice, though, continuing to discuss amber valley. cranberries and pumpkins were the strongest crops of the fall, mayor kim was re-elected for a third time and something about the town soon getting their first chain convenience store since amber valley’s founding. then, grandpa’s face lost his smile and a serious expression formed on his ageing features. he asked you about your job and how life was for you.

  by now, you’re 22 and working an entry-level position with nothing but a bachelor’s in your pocket and a hunger to climb the corporate ranks. like any fresh college graduate, there was no meaning to life if it weren’t for paying overpriced rent, mimosa sundays, dating apps, and maybe remembering to go to the gym every now and then. the life you lived was loud from city traffic and heavy from looming student debt. 

  “my job is..okay. i’m just starting out and i’m really just trying to do my best,” you replied.

  grandpa, still with a serious look, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “it gets stressful, doesn’t it?”

  you opened your mouth to respond again, but failed to find your voice this time. your stress was found in a growing caffeine addiction and getting too tired to give your parents a call on the weekends. adulthood was everything you expected and nothing you expected. you secured a job that you dedicated four years of studies to and just like that, was pushed into a world of hustle and bustle and nothing in between. once this realization settled, you tried to hide it by cracking a faint smile. grandpa saw through it, though - he always did. 

  “well, darling, if it ever does get too stressful..” you became confused when grandpa reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. he handed it to you and you turned it over, finding no writing other than your name in your grandfather’s decorative penmanship.

  you asked, “what is this, grandpa?”

  he finally smiled again, but shook his head. “a gift. it’s yours for when you find that you need a break from the challenges of life.”

  grandpa only gave gifts from the heart. only, this time, you wouldn’t know that he was giving you his entire heart and soul. you had taken this envelope and slid it in the drawer of your desk at home, where you tirelessly worked after hours, even after returning from the office. it was hidden away, but always poked your curiosity at the back of your mind. however, you restrained from opening it, even when it eventually became one of the last things you had from grandpa. 

  ii. the envelope

the only time you took the pristine envelope out of your desk was on the day of his funeral. 

  it was no surprise that grandpa wanted to be buried in amber valley, his home for over fifty years and his birthplace. it was once your heart’s home, too, once upon a time when you were a child skipping rocks by the town river and rode your horse through mustard-hued sunflower fields. for that, you were nervous to return and confront the realities of your coming of age in the face of a town that only lived in your memories, sickeningly reminding you of the years that have gone past.

  wedged between your mother and father who had only began speaking to one another as of three years ago, you stared blankly at the onyx coffin that, in about 20 seconds, was gone from your sight and lowered into the ground. it happened all too quick. you clenched your arm tighter, squeezing the envelope tucked underneath and protecting it from the rain. your very last summer in the valley was marked by constant rain and wind and once again, you greet the town amidst storms.

  the drive was quick, having gone directly to service after the three hour drive from the city. you couldn’t make much of the town through the gloom and suddenly, the valley was so much colder than you remember. like your being since your grandfather’s passing, it lost its colour. it was unwelcoming and felt like a punishment for your neglect over the years. amber valley was unforgiving as much as it was perfection. 

  you couldn’t make out much of the attendees through the gloom, either. many of them appeared absolutely devastated, sobbing and cold-faced at the goodbye of a beloved neighbour. your grandfather was always well-liked amongst the townspeople, helping out his friends with mundane tasks whenever he had free time away from the farm and shared his warm personality at community events. this was affirmed through the stories that were shared about him at the service, recognizable for his distinct good heart, but seemed so far away for you, having detached yourself from amber valley.

  “oh, an unfamiliar face! what’s your name, dear?” a man around your father’s age with salt and pepper hair was handing out hor d'oeuvres at the post-service gathering in the church basement. he seemed to be the most upbeat one in the room - though, it wasn’t saying much, considering the occasion.

  you told him your name, while looking around for either one of your parents. being in a room of strangers wasn’t your favourite activity, especially following a funeral. the last thing you wanted to do was socialize, feeling like you weren’t even in your own body all day. while you were saddened and to an extent, numb, you knew your grandfather’s passing was coming up. his illness was going to catch up to him and you spent months mentally preparing yourself for the day you would have to say goodbye. despite not being surprised, your grief was accompanied by the painful nostalgia of the town that raised you in the summertime.

  the man looked at you, appearing to search your face for something. “you’re the old man’s granddaughter? bunny?”

  the nickname almost made you flinch, having not heard it in so long that you were surprised you recognized it. you began searching the man’s face, too, also looking for some signs of familiarity. for so many years of your childhood, you were almost exclusively called this nickname by adults and friends alike.

  there wasn’t room for a response when the man pulled over another individual by his sleeve, merely attempting to walk by in peace. this one was a man closer to your age and you were too distracted by the glisten of his facial piercings to scan for recognition. the second thing you noticed the adornment of tattoos peeked from below his sleeve and trailed onto his hands. the third and final thing you noticed about him was how gentle his hands were. this was realized because the sight of this man made you drop whatever was in your own hands in surprise.

  the only thing you were holding was your grandfather’s envelope, no longer pristine and stained with a few raindrops. you noticed that you had been clutching onto this keepsake the entire service. you bent down to reach for it, when he also attempted to make the save for you. your hands brushed and you looked up at his eyes, suddenly taken away by confusion.

  “jungkook, you remember bunny?” 

  you forgot the older man was in your presence, as he was the one who pulled jungkook over in the first place. jungkook. this was the little boy you spent hours running around with all those years ago. although you seemed to forget when your grandfather had last brought him up, those moments began to rain down on you upon taking sight of him for the first time in years. you had barely looked, but it hit you.

  jungkook handed the envelope over to you and you cleared your throat, standing up properly and trying not to wobble on your favourite high heels. he also stood up and seemed to mirror your confusion, not understanding who was the person in front of him. you muttered a thank you and fixed an imaginary snag on your cardigan.

  “i just go by my first name now,” you said through a tight smile to both men, still feeling like your gut was punched in after hearing the nickname that your grandpa coined,

  “oh, of course. you’re all grown up now!” the man exclaimed. “do you remember me? mr. kim?”

  the truth was that you didn’t remember him by face, but instead remembered that your father mentioned a man of this name being the mayor. if he was the same person, mr. kim’s father was the previous town mayor, as well, and was your grandfather’s best friend before his own untimely passing. given his larger than life presence, it was same to assume that the man in front of you was the tiny valley’s politician.

  “mayor kim, of course.” you hoped you sounded convincing.

  jungkook was still standing to the side, the same confused look etched on his face. “you’re the girl that tricked me into eating mud that one time?” he blurted, as if an imaginary lightblub flashed above his head

  that took you by surprise and you almost snorted. “i didn’t trick you, you just went for it.” the quick snap back also took you by surprise, having left behind a bit of your normal self in the city before coming down to the valley for the funeral, as well as your instant recollection.

  somehow, this memory was clear as day and you could remember jungkook as a seven year old with a horrible bowl cut and missing teeth. you wore light-up sneakers and candy bracelets that day, sitting on the porch of your grandfather’s farmhouse with him and were exchanging dares to see who would give up first. maybe that was why your grandpa said you two were - 

  “ - always competitive,” jungkook said.

  although the two of you surely shared countless more memories, it was this one that stood against the test of time and it showed when it immediately hit you with a laugh. it took jungkook a second, too, but he eventually gave in and joined with his own. you hadn’t realized it until his swollen eyes became crescents in his giggles, but he seemed to be having his own trouble of a day.

  “there it is, jungkook! nice to see you finally cheer up a bit,” mayor kim encouraged and jungkook’s chuckle immediately fell back to a straight face, almost intentionally. you suspected that this was not the first time today that mayor kim was on his case.

  before mayor kim could add on, his attention gravitated towards something at the other end of the room. he sighed and set down the hor d'oeuvres, checking the time on his wrist dressed with gold. 

  “oh, i’m being called over,” he sighed and turned back to you. “it was a pleasure seeing you again, i hope to see you around town before you have to go back to the city.”

  swiftly, mayor kim weaved his way through the crowd and just like that, it was just you and jungkook.

  you took this opportunity to give jungkook an actual once over, comparing it to the faint image you had of this man from when you were children. undeniably, he was handsome, but you were more concerned with the fact that this was still the little boy you spent your summers with. he grew into his face and you didn’t realize that you accidentally said this out loud.

  jungkook looked as much taken aback as he was amused. “oh, you got jokes, huh? that’s what you learned growing up in the city?” he teased.

  “i didn’t mean it like that - “ you started, but he waved you off with a laugh.

  the conversation was a bit overwhelming, considering you were still stuck in a church basement following your grandfather’s funeral service and could not locate your parents anywhere. jungkook recognized this in your face and eased into a sympathetic smile. somehow, you felt okay enough around him to drop your tense shoulders for the first time that day.

  “i’m sorry, i should be giving my condolences. your grandpa was a loved man by everyone here.”

  looking around the room, it was clear. everyone had shared fond stories and were making toasts in his honour. you felt out of place, but more so because you felt like you should have been joining in with the attendees. instead of being a kind of extended family that once saw you grow up, these people were strangers. you weren’t sure if anyone recognized you, having tried to lay low and not draw any attention to yourself. the only times you seemed to have caught anyone’s eye was when you were sat beside your parents at the burial, but no one dared approach you then.

  “you were like a son to him, too,” you offered. it was true, given the amount of time you spent with jungkook as a child, maybe even going so far to call him your best friend at one point. 

  he let out a long breath, eyes moving to the enlarged portrait of your grandfather propped up on the wall. “that’s nice of you to say. i miss him already. i’m sure you feel the same.”

  you learned quickly that, in light of your disappearance from your grandfather’s farm over the years, jungkook was the one who began helping out and taking over what were your old chores. your grandfather was physically able, but he kept the young boy around for company and made feeding the chickens an excuse to have his presence. hearing this made your heart drop, feeling an unknown sense of regret that you didn’t know existed when it came to the farm.

  “it’s not like that!” jungkook cut in, seeing the tears well up in your eyes. “he would always talk about the two of you going on adventures in the city and how he loved spending time with you whenever he came up to visit. he knew that’s where your heart was.”

  you sniffled a bit, having already promised yourself to limit your breakdowns to two that day, and took a second to reel it in. “sorry…i don’t mean to - “ you sighed. 

  “it’s okay. it’s weird being back here, huh?” 

  it was weird. it was so damn weird that the air of amber valley stuck with you for the months following, like bubblegum in your hair and a melody on loop in your head. you couldn’t shake it. not when you were working an extra 20 hours overtime in a week, not when you became stuck in traffic everyday, and especially not when your boyfriend of three years dumped you because you “changed” so much since the start of the year.

  and, it was true. you changed a lot since your conversation with your grandfather on christmas eve, with his words echoing about the stressors of life everyday. it opened your eyes to how much you were really struggling and it wasn’t simply you who had changed, but your outlook on life. ever since you were twelve years old, everything shifted to the fastlane and years breezed by you in the blink of an eye. everything moved so fast and you never got a chance to catch your breath. one moment, you were 15, sneaking a sip of your first ever drink, and the next, you were 24 and drinking straight out of the wine bottle on a tuesday evening. you wondered how you suddenly found yourself jaded at a 9-5 black hole of a job that sucked out your energy and passions. 

  these days made you think about what truly deserved your energy and what truly were your passions. did you like your everyday routine of gluing on false lashes and slipping on pantyhose? were you happy, alone in your apartment with not even a cat to talk to? your parents had their own worlds and new lives to deal with and long stopped asking why you never call. your friends were co-workers, having no time to meet anyone new. you didn’t even have time for hobbies, given how tired you were every time you finished work and the amount of overtime you did.

  one thursday night, you arrived home from work at 10:13pm and decided you had enough. it was constraining, nearly strangling you with exhaustion everyday. you spent the entire day wondering was “it” was and when you kicked off your loafers by your doorstep, it hit you. this was what your grandfather was talking about.

  almost walking with fear of what was to come, you creeped over to your desk. after your grandpa’s funeral, his envelope no longer lived underneath manila folders in your drawer, but found a place on the surface. you kept it there, as it mocked you every time you opened up your work laptop after hours. you didn’t realize why you left it in plain sight, until this moment when you came to terms with the fact that you were reminding yourself of him.

  “if you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. i’d lost sight of what mattered most in life. . . real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place where i truly belong.”

  it took you precisely two weeks to pack up your things after opening the envelope. nobody could convince you not to. your mother complained that you were wasting your degree and your father had concerns about the massive role you were about to take on all by yourself. it didn’t matter.

  two weeks later, you met amber valley and its sunlight for the first time in years, pretending that the storm ceased and the sun shone to welcome you back. 

  iii. the granddaughter

the sun faded quickly when you realized the bus dropped you off on a plain dirt road in the middle of nowhere. the movers took the rest of your belongings separately, so you were left with nothing but a duffel bag and a cell phone that couldn’t find any signal.

  “oops,” was all you could say. you didn’t think it was a crazy idea, that there would be service at the very least.

  it took you a few moments to let the situation settle in and for you to realize that you were abandoned in a place that was unfamiliar to you. was it unfamiliar? you looked around, seeing nothing but fields on fields and accepted that there was no way you could even try to remember where you were, even with the help of the maps app. you knew you made it to town, but you were certainly left at the farthest point of the borders. 

  and then, you heard it.

  it was over at least ten years since you last rode, but your ears perked up at the sound of a horse’s gallop naturally. you had to squint, but it was unmistakable.

  they were going in the other direction and they were going fast, so you had to think fast. you tried yelling and waving your arms, but quickly saw that it was useless. so, you dropped your bg and brought your hands to your mouth, releasing the loudest whistle that your vocal chords could handle.  

  the horse and its rider kept going and for a few seconds, you thought you lost hope. but, then, as you were about to pick up your bag in shame, you watched them take a wide turn back around. they were headed to you.

  you waved your arms back and forth again, affirming that you needed their attention. as they came closer, you could make out a figure of a man with chestnut brown hair peeking out underneath his cowboy hat. he wore medium wash, stained jeans and a plain white t-shirt. 

  “that was the loudest whistle i’ve ever heard,” he hollered, drawing closer to you.

  you shook your head bashfully. “didn’t even know i remembered how to do that.”

  “pretty sure the whole town heard. my name is namjoon, are you visiting someone here?”

  likely a few years older than you, you tried to recall someone named namjoon from your memories. his appearance didn’t ring a bell, so you were searching your brain for his name or if you heard it from somewhere.

  you told him your name and then squinted at him, pausing for several moments before speaking again. “are you. . .joonie?”  

his eyebrows shot up immediately, looking at you like he couldn’t understand what language you were speaking. “pardon me?”

  joonie. he was mayor kim’s eldest son, who was sent to a fancy arts camp every summer when you were younger. you only met him a few times throughout the years, as he often arrived back the same week you were due to leave your grandpa to go back to your parents, but one feature stuck in your mind always. his dimples. you thought you recognized namjoon’s polite smile and piecing it together with his name seemed to be the key. 

  “i’m pretty sure you’re mayor kim’s kid. i’m bad with faces, but you’re joonie, aren’t you?” the confidence in your voice was fuelled by the fact that no one really left amber valley. it was the kind of place where families would raise their children with the kids they grew up with themselves. 

  namjoon seemed to still be calculating your appearance in his head when you heard the faint noise of galloping once again. the two of you looked over to see another person on a horse who was looking around the field, likely looking for namjoon. the man in question brought his hand to his mouth and released a whistle similar to yours - though, you did gloat silently because yours was, in fact, louder.

  still, it was enough to get the person’s attention and they finally made eye contact with the two of you. they began approaching and you could make out that it was a man’s figure. still, even with how small of a town amber valley was, you were surprised to see who it was.

  “jungkook!”

  “namjoon, i just spent fucking 15 minutes looking for you - “

  you tried to keep your expression neutral when you saw that it was actually jungkook on the horse. he wore an all-black outfit of cargo pants and a wife beater tank that exposed his tattooed arms. it made it hard to keep your expression the same.

“oh, hey. did you come to collect something from your grandpa’s property?” jungkook suddenly ignored his previous frustration at namjoon, cleared his throat and dropped his voice by an octave, in addition to cutting his voice’s volume by a cool half. he swiftly hopped off his horse, too cleanly to be casual.

  namjoon’s confusion only doubled, darting eyes between the two of you. “sorry, have you guys met?” he didn’t miss the way that jungkook straightened his shoulders without even trying to be subtle.

  you missed it, though, having cut away your stare to double check if your phone managed to get any signal. none. sighing, you shook your head at jungkook, as he began explaining to namjoon.

  “ - we called her bunny. remember bunny?” he nudged towards you.

  namjoon looked back at you again and concern formed. “you’re the granddaughter. oh, you were at the funeral - i’m sorry about your loss. your grandpa was such a great person.”

  you put on the same tight smile every time someone mentioned him. the worst of the grief came back on some days, but you learned how to manage it day by day as time went on. jungkook watched you do so and cleared his throat.

  “the old bus stop is the worst,” he interrupted, gesturing towards the tiny sign that indicated that it was in service. “people get lost all the time when they arrive. well, we don’t really have a lot of people visiting by bus - “

  you couldn’t help but cut in. “i’m not visiting.”

  the two men gave you and your single chanel duffel bag a blank stare and wondered if the idea was so hard to believe. it was for your parents, who both thought you caught them on some sort of prank show when you told them about grandpa’s envelope. you were wearing platform mary janes and a leather skirt in the dead of the june sun, so maybe they had a reason to be confused.

  there was a moment of silence, so you decided to speak again. “yeah, i’m not visiting. um, i’ve decided to take over my grandfather’s farm. i’m moving to amber valley permanently.”

[zyafics]

BEFORE DAWN | Jason Todd

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Ex!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — Jason suffers from a failed mission and needs you. Word Count — 3.0k.

Content — angst, hurt/no comfort.

Zya's Notes — this is my first time writing Jason, bear with me.

Loss is a frequent echo in Jason's life.

Weighted to the depth of his soul, anchored by his part. Since his birth, nothing but the blanket of death envelops his life—from his mother, to his time with the Joker, to the Lazarus pit that brought his resurrection. Because even if it did bring him back to life, the innocence behind his eyes was gone.

You've always known this. From the very first day you met him, Jason warned you he was damaged. At first, you assumed it to be a precaution he gave all his lovers because he didn't see himself as something worth loving. Some of that remains accurate. However, over time, you learned more about his secrets and tales and discovered his statement wasn't an exaggeration.

Because it's easy to love Jason Todd.

But it's just as easy to hate him.

Kicking off his boots, Jason steps inside his apartment and disengages his helmet from his head. He sets the red mask on his shelf, maneuvering to his cabinets in search for the hardest liquors in stock.

Tonight had been a rough mission. Despite the countless lives he saved, he still couldn't rescue a child from the massacre. All he remembers is the piercing screams, the little girl's pleas for help, his hushed reassurances that he's almost there.

But he wasn't. All there was left was silence.

Jason uncaps the glass and swallows a large gulp, moving to his bedroom. He lands on his bed with a thump, a groan slipping through gritted teeth from the pain.

There had been phone calls and pings from the Batcave, where he was sure the rest of the family had found surveillance of his gruesome mission, but he didn't have the energy to answer. Louder than the rest, he hears the moronic ringtone Dick set for his number playing on a loop, like an irritating itch that refuses to die down. Ignoring them all, Jason drinks from his bottle until there's nothing but droplets left.

That's when he hears a shy creak from the front door.

His body hums with heightened nerves, not easily seduced by the copious quantities of bitter alcohol Jason tried to force down his throat. He highlights every sound echoing through his empty apartment—the leisure clicks of heels against hardwood, calculating the distance it travels—and by the time his bedroom door cracks open, you peek through.

At first, he thought he'd imagined you. That happens. A side effect of the Lazarus pit, Jason managed to control it after years of training—to distinguish between what's real and not. But it comes back on occasion. However, nothing was worse than the episode months after you broke up with Jason.

"Hi, Jay."

Jason blinks. His hallucinations never spoke. They always observed and trailed after him as a figment of his imagination, a shadow from the corner of his peripheral. But they always remained silent. Taunting, even.

That's how he knows this is real. You're really here.

He should feel a cool sense of relief wash over him. It's been months of anguish and grief from missing you and wanting you back. It didn't matter that the breakup shattered him, he knew that if he saw you again, he would welcome you back with open arms.

But none of that arrives. All that came is hurt.

"What are you doing here?" He rasps, and despite his attempt at keeping his hostility at bay, they seep out like spits of venom.

You flinch, gripping the doorknob tighter as you resist the urge to run. "Dick called me."

He huffs, "Dick's always in my business."

"Maybe it's because he cares about you."

"If he cared about me, he would've been here."

Jason's words weren't aimed at his older brother. It's a direct shot to your chest, but Jason doesn't have a speck of remorse. His eyes are bloodshot, making his irises glow, and his expression hardens into sharp lines. You'd told Dick this was a bad idea, that Jason would want nothing to do with you, but the eldest refuted that you're the only one he would be willing to listen to.

Perhaps, once upon a time. But not now.

It's easy for you to leave, turn your heel, and exit the apartment complex without another exchange. But you don't. It's only been a few months since you last saw Jason, but you can't pretend that you don't miss him. Don't long for him every night. Don't check the news and headlines for any articles regarding Red Hood and his nefarious activities after dark.

Pushing the door wider, you step into the familiar bedroom and approach Jason, each step feels heavier than the last. He eyes you carefully as if you're prey entering a trap, and you grab the bottle clung to his chest before looking at the empty content.

His hooded gaze raises, "Didn't know I was supposed to share."

You scoff, but your shoulders loosen slightly. You set the bottle down on his nightstand, grabbing his muscular arm and hauling him up from the mattress, with difficulty because of the weight of his gear. Like a practiced choreography, you unlatch his belt, to the straps around his pecs, and unload them to the closet where it's stashed for the next day.

Jason says nothing as you return to the space before him, making a conscious choice to not meet his stare. You're surprised by his lack of resistance, especially as you drag him to the nearby bathroom, flicking the light on, and setting him in front of the sink counter.

When you pull out the aid kit from under the cabinets, Jason finally breaks the unbearable silence. "You remembered."

Your breathing lulls and you sink in the memories of the past. Long nights of patching Jason up, after his encounters with criminals and felons—the whips of clashing blades and the graze of bullets on skin. You even took a medical course at Gotham College to better equip yourself on how to take care of your boyfriend.

Well, ex.

"How could I forget?" Your voice is quiet, almost indistinguishable, but Jason clings to every little word. "I was the one restocking it."

"Do you remember your training?"

"Of course I do," you say. "They don't give out As for anybody."

A faint smile breaks out across Jason's face, even if he didn't want it to, and you lift your head to discover the easygoing expression. You return with your own grin, and a moment, suspended in time, there's a place where you forget the broken status of your relationship.

Despite the rough exterior Jason tries to exert, attempting to hold you at arm's length, his eyes soften upon meeting yours, tracing your features as a way to drink you in after months of agony and separation. They linger on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, wondering if they still taste the same as before.

But as quickly as it came, it left. Jason turns away, curling his hands into fists, his jaw sharpening by the grind of his teeth. Remnants of his anger remain, pulsing, eruptive, and targeted at you. It dulls with every passing moment in your presence, but it isn't fair. You can't return exactly as you were as if you didn't add to his misery.

"Jason?"

"Just finish up," he snaps, stonewalling his emotions to keep himself safe. "I don't have all night."

You sigh. Unraveling the roll of gauze, you examine the cuts and bruises on his shoulders and forearms. It isn't too bad. Jason has always been good at protecting himself—and you—so you believed the blood soaking his shirt was mostly his opponents rather than his.

When you grab the isopropyl alcohol, the can is light. "It's empty," you murmur, setting the gauze back in the kit. Jason glances at the bottle in your hands.

"It's—"

"I know," you mumble with a nod, slipping out of the suffocating bathroom before clinically moving through your old apartment, and finding another bottle behind one of his doors. When you're about to return, you catch a whiff of lavender in the air and freeze, searching the room to find a lit candle sitting on the island in his kitchen.

Your expression softens, admiring the glass filled with wax before you make your way back to the bathroom. Jason's attention is set on your phone sitting on the counter's edge.

"Someone texted you," Jason informs, his arms crossed against his chest as his gaze drifts to your face.

"Oh," you set the bottle down as you pick up your phone, reading the message.

Jason studies your expression, wondering who it could be. He didn't check out of respect for your privacy, and he's holding his tongue from asking, but a curious thought pounds at the edge of his mind. Did you move on? He couldn't resist by then. "Who is it?"

"Tim," you answer, setting the screen face-down on the countertop. "Also, Damian. He says to 'get some rest, Todd,' and that you still owe him a match tomorrow morning."

You punctuate your sentence with a soft smile, hoping to simulate the feelings from before, but Jason doesn't return the gesture. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and a sting surges through his veins. "Didn't know you still kept in contact with my brothers."

"Didn't know you still kept the candle."

If Jason was surprised by your response, he doesn't reveal it. He leans against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into his spine as his arms remain crossed over his chest. "You were right. The aroma covers the smell of blood."

Your lips curve with surprise, your eyes brightening from his admission. "I was right?"

"Don't let it get into your head."

"I wanna hear it again."

He says your name as a scold, but you merely beam from his words. There were some suggestions you gave Jason when you lived with him—making his place less James Bond and more homey. Before you came, he tracked grim and mud into the living area, wafted a tingeing scent of copper, and covered the entire apartment in weaponry and computers. You adjusted some things, but they were accepted with reluctance, and you hadn't expect Jason to keep any when you left.

Jason mirrors a gentle smile on his face as he watches the excitement radiate from you, reminding him of an easier time. That's how the start of your relationship felt—giddily, charming, and loveable.

"Your turn," Jason declares, uncrossing his arms and returning them to his side.

"There's not much to say." You admit somberly. "I keep in touch to make sure everything's okay."

"With everyone?"

"Dick, Tim, Damian..." You trail off, contemplating adding the last member. "And Bruce."

You study Jason's face as he absorbs the information, but nothing helps you identify his emotions. That's one of the difficult things about being with Jason. He never reveals his true emotions to you, always making you guess his thoughts. He doesn't tell you when he's hurt, or angry, or happy, because he keeps it all to himself.

At first, it didn't bother you, because you knew he didn't trust easily. But, sometimes, it feels like he didn't trust you at all.

You can't bring yourself to ask, to beg him to talk, so you go back to helping him with his wounds. In the silence, you clean the cuts, layering a thin layer of ointment cream over the scars, and bandage him up. By the time you're done, Jason remains as quiet as he was before.

That's truly all Dick asked you to do. He couldn't get into contact with Jason, and knowing an unannounced visit from Nightwing would do nothing but provoke an argument, he thought to ask you to check-in. To make sure he isn't beating himself up over the loss in his mission.

You didn't have to clean him up. Take off his gears. Make sure he isn't hurt. But you did.

As you make your way out of the bathroom, you glance at the exit. Jason can return to his bed on his own two feet, and as you're about to bid a polite farewell, Jason cuts you off.

"Why didn't you ever check up on me?"

The question startles you. Turning to see him exit from the bathroom, Jason stops a couple feet away from the bed, keeping a safe distance from you. His gaze never wavers.

"Jason..." You swallow a bile forming in your throat. You didn't want to give him some pseudo-bullshit to comfort him. He has always appreciated the truth. "We were broken up."

He huffs, "Which was something I didn't want."

"I know."

"It destroyed me,"

"I know,"

"I needed you," he confesses with such rawness, you can't help but falter from the sound. Your hands clench into fists by your side, nails digging into your palms to ease the ache in your chest.

"I..." You stammer. "It was hard for me. Being your girlfriend."

The good has always been good; euphoric and phenomenal. But the bad had been bad; miserable and troublesome. You couldn't handle the whiplash of emotions, of being pulled to absolute highs one night to being dragged to complete lows. It was too much for your little heart.

"I love you, and I'll always will, but I just... It was hard."

Jason stares at you, and behind his strong demeanor, something cracks behind the armor. He swallows thickly, his mind running a hundred miles an hour trying to rationalize your confession. "Did you... did you move on?"

"Jay..."

"No, I don't want that," he asserts, despite knowing a positive answer would wreck him, "I want to hear it. Was it easy to forget about me?"

"Jason, please," you beg, throbbing pain eliciting from your clenched palms as tears crowd your vision. "It took everything of me to step inside your apartment. To see you. When Dick called me, I truly didn't want to go, but he said you needed me."

His breathing slows. Pieces forming together. "And you came."

You nod once. "And I came."

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling with unsteady beats, and you can't help but take this as an opportunity to bid a formal farewell. You can't take it. But just before you can take two steps towards the bedroom door, Jason calls out with a rough voice. "Stay."

It takes everything of him to say that. Vulnerability seeps into the very crevices of his words, to his dark eyes, waiting for your answer—waiting for you to deny him. "I'm... I'm not asking for anything else. I don't expect anything. But I need you tonight."

Your eyes soften. You know how hard is for Jason to talk about his emotions, about his needs. You know it isn't good for you, every rational bone in your body telling you to leave, but you resist against them. Extending your hand, Jason doesn't hesitate to take it into his palm, pulling you into the bed.

It's so easy. You slip under the covers, crawling over to Jason's side as you lay your head on his chest, laminating the irregular beats of his heart. His arm settles around your waist, brushing against your thin tee, in an act so endearing, so natural, it's almost forgotten that this is the first intimate touch in months.

It hurts to be around Jason. To remember the good times. To recount the worst. His breathing remains unsteady—not because there's any damage to his lungs, but because that too is a side effect of the Lazarus pit. When you first dated him, you thought every night's rest was his last.

It causes you to tighten your grip around his torso, needing to keep him real. Alive. Your breathing becomes steady when you feel his hand glide over your skin in soothing strokes.

"I thought you hated me," Jason admits after a long stretch of silence.

"I could never hate you," you whisper. "That's not possible."

"You left me."

You don't answer that. Abandonment can be constituted as hate in Jason's world and there's nothing you can say to make him believe differently. Lifting your head from his chest, your eyes wash over his relaxed features. The fluff of white hair in the mass of dark roots, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, jaw, and the crooked outline of his nose. It's as if you're trying to commit to memory all the changes that have happened since you've been gone.

"I'm here now."

Jason nods and you return back to your previous position. It's always been difficult for him to find his slumber, but he manages to find it easy with your presence.

But as he falls asleep, you can't seem to follow him. For a moment, you wonder why everything was such a problem. Why couldn't you have stayed in this relationship if the both of you brought to each other a sense of peace no one else can encapsulate? But, then you remember.

It's the mornings. The morning after every bad mission, every disaster under the domain of Red Hood. Jason would return to the streets, becoming more reckless, vicious, and death-prone than ever before to make up for the loss he had the previous night.

And it killed you. Sitting in this apartment, obsessively checking for any articles about how Red Hood finally struck his last time. Even though Jason may have been raised from the dead, given the opportunity of a second chance, he lives his life as if it's his first.

Jason goes out into the world believing he's invincible. And maybe he is. Maybe he can beat death once again. And again. And again. But you can't sit around and watch. Because every night, every day spent wondering if he is hurt, if whether he's going to walk through the front door, kills you.

So, by morning, when the sun filters through his blinds and a warm ray lands on Jason's scarred and healing skin, his muscles throbs with pain, and his head pounding with a mild case of hangover, he slowly opens his eyes one by one.

And he remembers. He remembers everything the night before. How you came. How you stayed. And when his hand drifts to the place on his chest, to find any remnant of you, he discovers nothing but the wisps of air.

Because before dawn, you're gone.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

y'all remember that episode of violet evergarden where there was a sick, dying mother who knew she wouldn't live long enough to see her daughter grow up so she had a bunch of letters written in advance so every year on her birthday she'd get to read them until she turned 50 or something?

that concept but it's a modern au, roger knows he's dying and might not live long enough to see ace be born let alone a little after, so he has a bunch written for ace in advance. rouge dying in childbirth was unexpected so sadly she has none prepped, but she is mentioned in plenty of these letters with lots of polaroids in each envelope

so every year on ace's birthday he gets a new letter to read and dadan always has sabo and luffy give him privacy

some letters are probably filled with anecdotes like how roger and rouge met and their first date. at first rouge was so nervous for their first date she pretended she was sick but roger came over with flowers, a little bit of chocolate and soup

one letter talked about potential names they thought of and how they finally agreed on two names. ann for a girl, ace for a boy. in one letter they mention how ace was kicking a lot that particular month and must have been very excited to see the world

maybe one particular letter is a bit melancholic. the one for ace's 18th birthday where roger ponders how much ace has grown up, that he hopes he and rouge are living happily without him and wondering which parent ace looks more like. he hopes he looks more like rouge because she's beautiful. maybe tells ace that if his mother hasn't moved on yet, ace should tell her to go on a date or two