#she’s just been letting heart isolate himself for years?????

[chenouttachen]

what the fuck do you mean he’s been deaf for three years and his mum never bothered to learn how to sign

[paarksunghoon]

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”  

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away. 

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well. 

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.” 

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm. 

“Drive safe.” 

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long. 

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them. 

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.  

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash. 

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another. 

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people. 

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another. 

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life. 

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day. 

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life. 

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up. 

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since. 

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb. 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own. 

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time. 

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning. 

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes. 

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist. 

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.” 

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.” 

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.” 

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?” 

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.” 

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay. 

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft. 

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this. 

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.” 

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh. 

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.” 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position. 

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you. 

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.” 

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.” 

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him. 

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.” 

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.” 

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist. 

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door. 

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys. 

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off. 

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car. 

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp. 

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling. 

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile. 

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.” 

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried. 

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.” 

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment. 

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him. 

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him. 

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck. 

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs. 

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over. 

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use. 

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.” 

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.” 

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.” 

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone. 

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.” 

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face. 

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.” 

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose. 

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you. 

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat. 

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.” 

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.” 

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh. 

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head. 

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it. 

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.” 

“If we wake up early enough.” 

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.” 

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep. 

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[loganhowlettsmybf]

logan finally seeing you again after he thinks you died many years ago but you were being held hostage for experiments

Echoes of the past

word count: 1,5k

warnings: deception of grief, mention of abduction and torture

logan gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure. the glass was almost empty, a few swigs left, but enough to blur the edges of his relentless memories. it didn’t help. nothing did. not the liquor, not the fights, not even the passage of time. years had passed since he lost you, and the pain never dulled. you had been taken from him, ripped away by forces darker than anything he'd ever known. they had broken into the place you called home, leaving nothing behind but a trace of your blood.

he had searched everywhere, for years, for a hint, a clue, anything that might lead him to you. but time after time, his efforts met dead ends, and after years of failure, he resigned himself to the cruelest reality: you were gone. dead.

that was supposed to be the end of it. that was supposed to be the closure that allowed him to move on. but he couldn’t. the nightmares never stopped. the ghosts of what you shared together haunted every quiet moment, every breath. and the bottle of whiskey in his hand was just another failed attempt to drown out the echoes of your laughter.

but something had changed. a lead—something tangible—surfaced, out of nowhere, dropped into his lap by a mutant with telepathic powers. "she’s alive," the voice had said in his mind. "she’s still out there."

at first, logan didn’t believe it. he couldn’t let himself believe it. but the mutant had given him coordinates, a remote facility in the mountains where you were supposedly held. logan couldn’t risk ignoring it. and so he went, the last shred of hope dragging him through hell and back.

————————————————————————

the wind howled through the dense trees as logan scaled the side of the mountain. his body moved with a singular purpose, his senses heightened by desperation. he reached the facility, a hulking, abandoned bunker and smashed through the gates without a second thought. inside, the air was stale and cold. the place reeked of rot and death, but logan pushed on, the scent of you pulling him deeper.

he tore through doors and guards alike, the claws in his hands slicing through steel and flesh with ease. he could hear screams in the distance, the final cries of those who had kept you here, and it only fueled his rage. they had taken you from him, stolen years of your life. they were going to pay.

finally, logan reached a door, thicker than the others, with heavy locks that screamed of secrets too dangerous to escape. he tore it down without hesitation, and what he found inside made his heart stop.

you were there, crumpled on the floor, shackled and broken, your body battered and bruised from years of captivity. the sight of you was like a punch to his gut. you looked so fragile, so small compared to the vibrant person you had once been. but the worst part was your eyes, empty and hollow, a shell of the person he had loved.

logan fell to his knees beside you, his breath caught in his throat. "is it really you?" he whispered, voice cracked with disbelief.

you flinched at the sound of his voice, shrinking back against the cold floor as though you expected more pain to come. you didn’t recognize him. not at first. how could you? years of isolation and torment had twisted your reality, left you in a constant state of fear. but then, something in his voice, in the way he said your name, sparked a faint memory.

"logan?" your voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. you blinked up at him, and for a moment, just a moment, he saw a flicker of recognition in your eyes.

"it’s me, darlin’," he choked out, his hands hovering over your form, unsure of where to touch, how to comfort. "i’m here. i’ve got you. i’ve got you now."

tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as the realization hit you. after all these years, after everything they had done to you, logan was here. he was real. but the pain, the fear, the trauma—it all came crashing down on you at once, and you broke.

"i thought… i thought you were dead," you sobbed, your body shaking with the weight of it all. "i thought i was dead."

logan pulled you into his arms, careful of your injuries but desperate to hold you close. "i thought you were gone too," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "i looked for you… god, i looked for you everywhere. i’m so sorry i couldn’t find you sooner."

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his jacket as though he might disappear at any moment. "they… they did things to me, logan. they…"

"i know," he said softly, his voice trembling. "i know. but you’re safe now. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again."

you cried into his chest, years of torment pouring out in a flood of tears that wouldn’t stop. and logan held you, his own tears mixing with yours as he tried to soothe you, tried to take away your pain. but he knew he couldn’t. the scars they had left on you ran deeper than anything he could heal. all he could do was be there for you, hold you tight, and promise that you’d never have to face this alone again.

————————————————————————

the journey back was a blur. logan carried you out of that place, away from the horrors that had kept you imprisoned for so long. he didn’t stop until he found a safe house, far away from everything.

days passed in a strange, delicate rhythm. logan stayed by your side through every nightmare, every flashback, every moment when the weight of what you had been through became too much to bear. he was patient, gentle in a way that felt foreign to him.

at first, you barely spoke, still trapped in the silence that had been forced upon you for so long. but logan didn’t push. he stayed close, making sure you knew he was there whenever you needed him, ready to listen when you were ready to speak.

one night, as you sat together by the fire, wrapped in a blanket he had draped around your shoulders, you finally found your voice.

"they took everything from me," you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the flames. "i thought i’d never be whole again."

logan’s heart broke at your words, at the quiet resignation in your tone. he moved closer, his hand reaching for yours. "you’re not broken,“ he said, his voice gentle but firm. "they didn’t take you from me. you’re still here. you’re still you."

you looked at him then, your eyes searching his for something, maybe hope, maybe reassurance. "but what if i’m not?" you whispered. "what if i’m not the same person you loved?"

logan shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. "you’re the person i love, darlin’. that’s never gonna change."

a small, broken smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and for the first time since he found you, logan saw a glimpse of the person you used to be. it wasn’t much, but it was enough. enough to remind him that healing wasn’t a straight path, it was messy, painful, and sometimes it felt impossible. but it was possible. and he would be there with you every step of the way.

————————————————————————

months passed, and the scars of your captivity began to fade, not completely, not ever completely, but enough that you started to reclaim pieces of yourself. you and logan rebuilt what had been taken from you, brick by brick, moment by moment. the nightmares didn’t stop, and the fear didn’t entirely go away, but you found strength in each other. and slowly, little by little, the cracks in your heart began to heal.

one day, as you stood on the porch of the cabin, watching the sun dip below the horizon, logan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. you leaned back against him, letting out a soft sigh as you felt the warmth of his presence.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the evening.

"for what?" logan asked, his breath warm against your ear.

"for not giving up on me," you said, turning in his arms so you could look into his eyes. "for finding me.”

logan’s eyes softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

tears filled your eyes, but this time, they were tears of something new. not pain, not sorrow, but hope. because even after everything, you had found your way back to each other.

[stsgooo]

Haunted.

✩࿐ summary: geto had suffered enough, why should he let you go too?

warning(s): suicidal thoughts/idealizations, death, poor coping mechanisms, gn!reader, depression, isolation, description of violence, angst no comfort, curse!reader, cult leader geto things, character study vibes, not proofread (sorry). wc; 15.7k

pairing(s): geto suguru/reader, geto suguru/gojo satoru/reader (briefly), geto suguru/gojo satoru

a/n: hii, been a while since i’ve written an x reader fic so hope this abides by everyone’s standards :) as i finished this, i realized that this probably should've been multiple parts because of how long it is, but it was too far gone at that point. anyway, i hope you enjoy and if you don't i would rather not hear about it!

available to read on ao3. | divider 1

I. 2005

SUGURU WAS SURE YOU HAD A DEATH WISH.

Out of everyone, it seemed as if you had some crazy switch in you that just flipped during a battle. It was as if you got tunnel vision and your every move was erratic, death the only option. It did not matter to you whether you lived or died. Saving others was your main and only goal. That scared him to death.

You were powerful. Powerful enough where you didn’t need to go all out on every curse that even hinted at having some type of power over you or others. Yet you always found yourself in Shoko’s room, sporting one cut too many, and a bright grin as if you weren’t pushing the limit. You would wave away any and all concern with that smile.

I’m just fine, you would roll your eyes at their worry. Really, you guys, stop fussing so much.

Suguru had argued with you about it before. Both of you had been sent on a mission to some elementary school, few kids had gone missing. You found the curse, and the kids, and a fight ensued. It was nothing crazy. Not until you practically served yourself on a platter for the curse and told Suguru to run away with the kids. Of course, he didn’t leave. What kind of friend would he be if he just let you die? What kind of sorcerer would he be if he just ran away while you were torn limb by limb? He’d be a failure of a sorcerer and a failure of a friend.

It bothered him. It enraged him how easily you threw your life away for others. A hint of danger and you were willing to get yourself killed over it. The complete disregard for your life in the first year that you all knew each other irked his very soul. Your behavior was worrisome. It confused him.

The buildup to his fight with you was a lot to unpack in itself.

The car ride from the hospital the kids were at was silent. Filled with a tension that unsettled his heart and he was sure unsettled your mind. You made no attempt at small talk or passing a good job, it was just silent. He silently thanked you for it. Because he was sure if you spoke then, he would’ve blown up. He would’ve said horrible things. So he silently thanked you for your silence, your silent allowance to let him think. You even fell asleep and Suguru couldn’t help but ask himself how you could sleep so soundly after such a close brush with death.

Three days later, he could tell Satoru and Shoko noticed the tension.

He knew they noticed it the moment you two returned. Your clothes soiled, face covered in mud and blood, hands all too shaky. Maybe it was the way you walked away from his side to great them. Or it was probably the way he glared at the wavering smile on your lips as you told them everything went fine. It was most definitely that.

Shoko was weary of it. At lunch, she’d sit between him and you. Her words were light as she teased and prodded, but never dared to ask the serious questions. She kept the air free of the awkwardness or the anger brewing. Shoko was kind like that. She was optimistic.

Satoru, however, wasn’t.

Although he seemed to abide by the silent rule not to ask you questions, he was practically grilling Suguru any given moment. He asked what happened. Why was Suguru so angry? Why were you acting so standoff-ish? Had something finally happened between you? Did Suguru get rejected and was he throwing himself a pity party? There were so many things that he threw out into the open like it was silly. As if Satoru derived some entertainment from the tension.

Do you ever notice they’re ready to get themselves killed for others? Suguru had thrown out to Satoru a week after the mission.

Satoru’s eyes lost the amusement and his smile dimmed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. Of course I have. His voice was ridiculously serious and slow, extremely distant. As if recalling something he pushed to the back of his mind often. His attention had cut back to Suguru and shook his head. Man, it’s best to leave this alone. Trust me. Sensei will say something soon enough.

Suguru couldn’t help but worry that their first year teacher’s talk wouldn’t come soon enough.

Things just didn’t make sense to him. He just didn’t understand why you would be so willing to throw yourself into death like it was a blanket on a cold night. Sure, they’re meant to save people, but it didn’t mean death. Not everything had to be final. He feared that you just didn’t know it.

All of it came to a head when all four of you were placed on a mission three weeks after.

At this point, it was apparent that you both were avoiding each other. Different topics that neither of you wanted to address made headway into your dynamic. Distanced you both from one another like it was a bubble. A shield protecting you both from uncomfortable and frankly angry conversations.

But you did it again.

Sure, this time the curse was too much. Things weren’t looking too great for them. But the moment Suguru noticed you were missing from his and Satoru’s side, he felt panicked. He knew what was coming and knew what you’d say.

You caught the curse off guard as you jumped from the top banister, your large hammer at the ready. You shouted something along the lines that they should get out of there. But Suguru nor Satoru dared to run away. He watched, in horror, as you vanished into the curse’s mouth. As he was ready to summon his small arsenal of cursed spirits, the thing was cut from the stomach. Then you got its head.

There was silence as you stood amongst the carnage. Covered in the things purple goopy blood. Then you turned to them with that smile and Suguru lost it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls and converging on you. You looked shocked, eyebrows raised and faltering away from the pride to the confusion. He took in a shaky breath as he felt the built up anger from the past three weeks finally come up. “Do you have to throw yourself into danger like that?”

You frowned at him, then pathetically gestured at the curse. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Suguru pressed his hands against his face, letting out a deeply annoyed groan. “That’s not the point! The point is you threw yourself into its mouth! Like it was nothing!” He pushed himself forward to at least close the distance a little. Despite hearing Satoru’s soft protest, he needed to look you in the eye.

Your irritation was apparent as you furrowed your brow. “It doesn’t matter! Seriously, what’s your issue lately? You’ve been a complete asshole since that mission we went on. I thought you were just feeling bad for those kids, but you’ve acted completely different towards me!” Suguru could only clench his jaw at your obliviousness. There’s no way, right? There was absolutely no way you didn’t see what you were doing to them. To him. But when you said your next words, that thought was out the window. “Okay, so I threw myself into the middle of things, but so what?”

So what? So what. So fucking what?

Suguru felt something deep within him snap. As if there was a car underwater and the glass that was keeping the passengers safe suddenly cracked. His emotions, his clear mind, were the victims of the drowning. Buried deep under your ignorance.

“So what?” He snapped, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he regarded you with unsettled rage. “So what? Are you serious? Like, are you dumb or are you just playing with me because I seriously can’t tell right now!”

You flinched at his tone and he could hear the shift of rubble behind him. “Suguru, hey—“ Satoru tried to de-escalate the situation but he was ignored.

“Excuse me?” You uttered, glaring up at him.

“Whenever we go on missions, you’re the first one throwing yourself at the thing like it isn’t serious. As if there’s not a high possibility that you’ll die! Every single time.” Suguru had a finger against your chest now. He wasn’t even sure when he had reached out, but he could feel the curse’s blood on his fingertip. It was cold and thick. Uncomfortable. But you were covered in it like it was nothing. Everything was nothing to you. “So, I’m asking you: are you dumb or just acting like you are?”

Your eyes were narrowed as you regarded him. “I know it’s dangerous, but sometimes that’s the only option.” Was all you had to say in response.

“You shouldn’t be the first one to die every time!” Suguru was desperate for his point to get across. For you to understand that it wasn’t the matter that it was dangerous— it was the fact that you were so willing and ready to have everyone live without you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You frowned.

Just understand I care. That if you were to die right in front of my eyes, I’d lose it. I’ve only known you for ten months, but I can’t imagine a world where you’re dead. You’re one of my best friends— the first friend I ever made, please don’t make me live longer than you. Were all the selfish things that Suguru wanted to say. That he should’ve said.

Instead, he asked, “Do you just want to die?”

There was a very long silence that kept them all from moving.

The question was posed and he could see it in your eyes. Could hear it in the words you didn’t speak. You looked away from him, shame settled on your face. Suddenly, you looked small compared to your usual large and boisterous self. Have you always been this small? Or was this something he was just realizing now?

It settled in his mind, suddenly, that he was right. His assumptions, rash and brazen, were right.

It made him queasy, lightheaded, as he stared at you.

“Y/N…” He uttered with a pale face. He desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp your shoulder— make some type of contact. But his limbs wouldn’t move. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing or blinking. His mind just repeated the one fact he knew over and over.

You wanted to die. You didn’t care if you died out there, alone, because it was all the same to you. You were waiting for death as it was waiting for you. Like an old friend. You wanted to die.

Suguru felt the overwhelming urge to cry as it all settled. “You want to die?” He couldn’t help the whisper as he stared at you in horror.

Your cheeks were a deep crimson red, tears pooling in your eyes as you took a step back from him. “It-It’s not like that.”

Suguru slowly shook his head. “Y-Yo—“ You shouldn’t feel like that. Is what he wanted to say. But what good would that do? You knew that. You probably prayed you didn’t every day.

“I just— you guys are so important to the school and-and to me! If you guys died, they’d be scrambling and a lot of people would probably suffer. But if I died, then who would even care—?”

“I would!” Suguru couldn’t help the tears that collected in his eyes. Here he was, almost 16, crying in front of you. But he needed you to know he cared. That life wouldn’t be the same without you gracing it. He reached forward, grabbing your hands in a vice like grip. “I would care! If you died I would be miserable and I would miss you like crazy. Don’t say no one would care because, if it doesn’t matter that I care, then everyone would. You’re important to everyone. You matter.”

Your eyes were on him now, wide and unsteady as you regarded him with confusion and disbelief. “Suguru—“

“We would all care. Satoru would be so annoying without your stupid quips. Shoko would be miserable if there wasn’t anyone to get her cigarettes when she forgets. And I…I would lose it if you were dead. I would. I would lose my mind, I’d do something crazy like… like leave everything behind.” It felt wrong to say. To put such weight on you, but he needed to know the role you played. How important you are. He clenched his jaw in determination, eye contact unwavering as he squeezed your hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear on it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you.”

“Better than anything I could say.” He heard Satoru utter behind them, then the tell tale yelp that came after Shoko slapped him upside the head.

You didn’t let that distract you as you fell forward into his arms. Clutching at his uniform as you let out a small cry. He held you up and listened as you dumped years worth of pain into his chest. Suguru couldn’t ever recall seeing you like this before. He never really wanted to see it again. You didn’t say anything in response to his rather embarrassing ramble to you. No, not to that.

Instead, all you said in return was, “thank you.”

II. 2006

Suguru was in love with you and Satoru.

He realized it the afternoon in Okinawa, all of you walking through the aquarium as Riko pointed out various fish that she knew too much information about. Of course, he wasn’t listening. He was much too focused on you and Satoru. The both of you had snuck away to a gift shop— proclaiming that you needed mementoes and souvenirs for your friends back home. You adorned an octopus hat while Satoru had various fish stickers pressed to his cheeks. You both more resembled children on a field trip than highly esteemed sorcerers.

Suguru loved it. He loved you both.

It was a sudden and rather scary realization.

It came over him as you placed another sticker on Satoru's face. The both of you releasing absurd laughs that had no business sounding so lovely. He could feel the small smile blossom on his own lips as Satoru argued that he'd have the "gooey stuff" all of his face later, which made you promise to help him clean it off with a rag. Then you placed a delicate kiss against his cheek. It was so nonchalant, something they should all be used to, but it was always so jarring. Satoru stared at you with wide eyes behind his glasses, then he grinned. Wide and devious.

Suguru's heart soared.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to grab both of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. To promise his heart and his life to you both. It would be easy. It would be mere second nature to him. Suguru may just be realizing how deeply he loved you and Satoru, but he was almost sure that he'd felt this way since month five of your first year.

Surely, it shouldn't be a surprise. You three had been getting bold lately. Shoko was even commenting on it. The late nights in your room, the both of them curled up at your side. The domesticity of one of you returning to your dorm and being greeted by the other two. You all had a routine. A promise to come back through the door and have another fight of arguing over what's for dinner. Or something obscure that he wouldn't put up with with anyone else.

He just wanted to tell you and Satoru that he finally feels normal in the world. With you both by his side. That when he has your skin pressed against his, he feels like he could take on the world. That Satoru makes him feel childish and free like he couldn't be when he was a kid. That his kisses were sweet and soft. He just wanted to tell you that he loved you.

But Suguru saw your eyes stray away from Satoru's and the smile faded away. "We have to give her a choice." You said suddenly.

Both Satoru and Suguru moved their attention to Riko. The girl was standing in front of a expansive tank, watching in amazement as the fish zoomed by. The girl unaware of their watchful eyes as she turned to Kuroi and asked her to enjoy the fish too.

Suguru and Satoru had acknowledged that you were probably the last person who should be on this mission almost immediately. It wasn't that you weren't well fit for it, or that you would be too detached, or not want to get involved— it was that you had warmed up to Riko immediately. The girl had become your shadow. She asked about your technique and how "two idiots" like them were able to be in your presence. She amused you and you amused her. Then she asked you what you thought about her merger and you told her you thought it was something you shouldn't get involved in.

But Suguru and Satoru saw it in your eyes. They knew what you thought the moment Yaga had said the word "erase".

You wanted to save her.

"I knew you'd say that." Satoru snorted, leaning back against the tank they stood before. His eyes rolled upwards to look at the dolphin swim pass across from them. "You're always meddling."

You glared at him. "I don't meddle!"

"You do." Satoru said fondly. "What did I say, Suguru? They'd meet the girl and meddle, right?"

You snapped your eyes to Suguru who shyly stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "You did say that." I did not. Suguru used kinder words— like you cared about Riko and you'd probably not want to see her throw away her barely lived life for Tengen-sama.

You pouted, picking at the railing next to Satoru. "Am I that predictable?"

"Only because we know you so well." Satoru teased with a small smile. Then his eyes cut back to Riko who was gradually making her way further down the area. As much as Satoru would deny it, Suguru could tell that he'd come to grow fond of the girl as well. "What do you propose we do, exactly?"

Now Suguru was looking back to you. He could see the shock in your eyes as they snapped up to Satoru— as if you couldn't believe he was playing into whatever ideas you were tossing around. There was a spark of hope in your eyes and Suguru had to look away to prevent the smile that wanted to spread across his face. Instead, he'd let his heart do that weird skip it usually did whenever you and Satoru were particularly adorable.

"All I want is for her to have a choice," Your voice was compassionate as you started. The look in your eyes distant as you turned your attention towards the small tank in front of you three. The portioned tank that had different beta fishes separated. Together they're deadly. Apart, they find peace. Riko had explained. "The way she's talked about everything... the merger with Tengen-sama— that's what she was born for. She's proud of it. But given the choice, she wanted to spend her last day with her friends. She wanted to go to school and hang out with them because she knew she'd never see them again. Instead of really wanting to do this, she's just doing it because she feels like she has to. Where's the freedom in that?"

Suguru smiled softly at you. "So we give her a choice." He agreed with a small nod, finding satisfaction with the brightness in your eyes.

"We'll have to fight Tengen, you know that?" Satoru kept his eyes steady on Riko as he questioned the two of you. Both of you blink, obviously not having considered that detail. "They'll put up a fight— probably other sorcerers too. Freeing Riko might mean we leave Jujutsu High."

Suguru let his mind wander. Would he really mind if the three of you left? Not really. If the three of you have to fight Tengen-sama, then he'd gladly fight them by your side. If you both wanted, he'd destroy the world. Then gladly live his final moments with you both at his side. That was a fact that he knew to be true in his soul.

"I'll gladly do so." You answered without hesitation. Of course you would, you self sacrificial fool. A bitter part of Suguru said. There was no question that you'd put your life on the line for Riko. "If her choice is to live life, then I'll fight Tengen."

"And you'll win?" Satoru asked.

You raised an eyebrow. "We're the strongest, aren't we? Us three?"

Something about your words made Suguru 100% sure that he wouldn't allow you both to walk alone in the world. Together, there wasn't anything you three couldn't take on.

Satoru finally turned from Riko to stare at you with a self assured smirk.

Oh, Suguru thought with a stutter in his heart. He'd already made up his mind before you did.

"Well, well! I thought you were above all that we're the strongest crap!" Satoru teased, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you rolled your eyes. "Don't be so entitled, Satoru. You're making Haibara and Nanami feel less than, Satoru. You sound ignorant, Satoru. Look who's high and mighty now!"

"Oh, stop!" You pushed his arm away, but your smile was fond. You turned back to the beta fish. "Sure, it's a little entitled, but right now, I'm being nice."

"Thank you, thank you, my beloved royalty." Satoru dramatically bowed before you. You uttered something about him being dramatic, which went ignored. The white haired sorcerer reached over and slapped Suguru's arm, peeking at him fondly from behind his glasses. "Suguru, bow for your deity!"

Suguru was about to decline, until you spoke up. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Don't do that." Suddenly, he felt inclined to follow suit.

Both of them were now bowed behind you, uttering their dramatic praises as you blushed, attempting to ignore them as people walked pass and stared. Suguru peeked up at you as you watched the beta fish swim around. In that moment, he prayed that nothing changed.

Things weren't right.

Things weren't right but you were so calm.

Silently, Suguru could only shoot a thankful glance in your direction as the elevator creaked under the strain of four people. He could tell you were worried but your expression was determined to stay pieced together. Satoru was above ground, fighting against that man— Suguru couldn't think about it. It was too much in the mess of things.

The elevator came to a screeching halt and there was no hesitation on your part to push the doors open. You seemed quicker, your movements a little stilted as you exited the elevator and, instead of looking at the three behind you, you kept your gaze on the various entrances. He could tell you were irritated. He could tell you were worried. Or nervous.

No, you were scared.

His attention turned towards Riko and Kuroi who were exchanging a heartfelt, tearful goodbye. They clutched onto each other— Kuroi told her to be brave and Riko promised she would. Then they separated and Suguru promised that he'd come back once everything was done to escort Kuroi to safety.

The trek to the Star Corridor was long and quite.

There wasn't much Suguru could say to comfort you because there wasn't much he could reassure himself with. His worries for Satoru were overbearing in his mind and he couldn't try and fool himself into trying to bear the weight of your anxiety as well. Both of you knew this, so you didn't dare try to comfort one another.

There's nothing wrong. Everything's going to be okay. We're the strongest. Satoru will join us once this is over. Were the things Suguru soothed himself with.

"Is this...?" Riko uttered as they finally broke through to the outskirts of where Tengen homes themself.

"Yes," Suguru confirmed as he came to a stop beside the younger girl. "We're just outside of where Master Tengen resides. This is the country's base for primary barriers. The main hall of the tombs of the Star Corridor."

"Basically, it's their home." You said flatly, coming to Riko's other side, your eyes moving over the vast area. It was quiet, dark, and looked isolated. Nothing that brought any welcomeness for the eternity to come.

Suguru tried not to let his gaze linger on the woeful look painting your face now. He cleared his throat and pointed. "Go down the stairs and pass the gate. Then head toward the base of that huge tree. It's protected by a different barrier than the one around Jujutsu High. Only those invited may enter. You'll be protected by Master Tengen until the merger."

Riko's expression turned sorrowful as she followed the path Suguru paved with her eyes. This was the end. Her fun and the little life she lived was at its finish. She clenched her hands at her sides and made a move to continue forward, without them.

"Or we can turn back and go home to Kuroi."

Riko's eyes snapped to you. Your eyes were compassionate and a small smile graced your features that was more reassuring than any words that could be spoken. She looked a little pale, but the glow of hope suddenly appeared.

"What?" The girl uttered.

You turned to her fully, keep your expression soft. "When our taecher assigned us this mission, he used the word 'erase'. It's like, deep down, he knew something was wrong with this and, for a muscle guy, he doesn't usually beat around the bush." You looked like you wanted to chuckle at your own jab at Yaga, but didn't have the energy. Instead, you sighed. "I talked to Suguru and Satoru and we all came to the decision that if the kid who is the Star Plasma Vessel should refuse the merger then we call it off."

Riko's eyes widened even further and tears were on the cusp of falling as she stared at the both of you.

"We're the strongest," Suguru offered gently, offering a closed eyed smile to the girl. "No matter what you choose, we promise to protect your future."

Riko's lips quivered as her eyes bounced between you two and the vast nothingness of Tengen's home. She took in a shaky breath. "Ever since I was born, I've been told I'm special and different. Being special was normal for me. I've survived till now by staying away from danger... My parents died in a car crash. I don't remember it. I'm not say or lonely anymore." She started to fiddle with her hands as her words grew more unsteady. You moved to press against her side, hands rested against her shoulders. "That's why... with the merger, I thought I'd be okay... leaving everyone. No matter how painful it became, I believed that, some day, the sadness and loneliness would disappear."

"You just need the right person." You uttered to her, her eyes snapping up at you as tears silently streamed down her face. "You need that one person to prove that there's beautiful things out there— that there's kindness and love. I know. I understand, Riko."

The girl bursts into tears, a trail of snot ran from her nose as she shook with her cries. "I want to stay with everyone a bit longer!" Her voice seemed to echo around the two of you. "I want to go to more places and see more things with everyone! More!"

Both you and Suguru smiled softly. His hand reached out while you squeezed her shoulders. "Riko, let's go home." He beckoned her forward.

"Yeah!"

Suguru registered the shot last second, but it was too late for him to truly do anything.

He's never quite seen anything like it.

You were smiling, you looked free from your worries for one second.

Then you were falling. Your face slack and eyes blank. You fell against the ground with a deafening thud. Blood pooled around your head, chunks of your brain scattered across the ground. Your eyes.

They're so blank.

Suguru barely registered Riko's scream. His eyes couldn't leave you even as the girl screamed and screamed, hands clutching at her head as she stared at your body beside her.

You were just speaking a moment ago. You were smiling. How could this happen?

Your eyes are so blank.

"Y-Y/N...." Suguru uttered, eyes wide and face pale.

He felt sick. He didn't feel right. This wasn't right. Why were you on the ground? Why were you bleeding? Why can't he move? Why can't he breathe? Are you going to get up? Please get up.

Riko continued to scream. She just wouldn't stop. Her once hopeful eyes were now reduced to horror and terror as she smeared the blood covering the side of her face. None of it hers.

It's yours.

Your eyes are blank.

What are you doing? Get up. Get up. Smile. Just breathe. Get up. Please, I'll do anything. I'll listen to you ramble about those books you love so much. I'll buy you those disgusting snacks you crave. I'll do anything for you.

Please don't die.

Your eyes are blank.

"Oh," groaned a voice that rattled Suguru's soul. "I missed."

Suguru slowly turned his head to stare at the man. The one that had stabbed Satoru through the chest and had talked to him like an old friend. The one that was now standing, clutching a gun in his hand, pouting as if he was amused by his miscalculation.

As if your death was something he hadn't accounted for.

"How..." Suguru's voice doesn't feel like his own. It feels like he's out of body. As if something else is controlling him. He felt something warm on his cheek, but he couldn't reach for it. His limbs felt heavy, his hands cold. What was happening? Why did everything feel so muddled? "How'd you get here?"

Still, Riko screamed.

Still, your eyes were blank.

The man frowned. "How...?" Suddenly, he chuckled and pressed the side of the gun to his temple. "I see. I killed Gojo Satoru."

Suguru was swarmed with an unfamiliar feeling of rage. You and Satoru had once praised him for his ability to remain calm and level headed when things seemed to crumbled around all of you. He was the voice of reason— your moral compass. The map that lightened your way.

Suddenly, he felt like he was reduced to nothing but rage and this empty feeling in his chest.

Your eyes are blank.

Gojo Satoru is dead.

"I see..." Suguru growled, his eyes unmoved from the man across from him. "Then die!"

III. 2007

Suguru didn't feel right.

Although, he hadn't felt right for 11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds.

He hadn't been right since the moment you dropped dead.

Your eyes were blank.

He wasn't enough to fight against Fushiguro Toji. The man had ruthlessly downed him then killed Riko. It was like it was nothing. He came, he killed, then he left.

Suguru had laid amongst the rubble of Toji's doing and stared into your blank eyes. He still wasn't sure how long it was. He couldn't move and he could barely breathe as the blood from his chest trickled to the stone and concrete under him. Your eyes stared lifelessly into his own. Endlessly. A never-ending staring contest that he pleaded to end.

The entire time he laid on the floor of Tengen's barrier. His mind only repeated one thing.

Please get up. Please be alive. Please get up. Please get up.

Your brains had scattered across the floor and your eyes were unmoving but he spent so much time just pleading with you to snap out of it. He thought he was enough. He apologized for not being enough.

Please get up. I promised to prove it to you.

There was a point he passed out. He could remember thinking, thankfully, that he was going to die. And he swore he heard your gurgled call for him.

Then, he woke up.

Shoko had looked distraught. He could still remember the way she eyed him wearily through red rimmed eyes. Cautious as she told him that you were dead. As she told him Satoru was gone.

Gone. But not dead.

Suguru had, very briefly, rejoiced in Satoru's survival.

Shoko said she cleaned your blood off his cheek.

Suguru hated her for a while after that.

He didn't stay at the infirmary for long. Despite Shoko telling him that Yaga wanted to see him and that he shouldn't move around yet, he dragged himself away. He dragged himself to the cult. He dragged himself along the side walk with his mind flashing with images of your blank eyes.

Was that all death was? Nothingness? Did it comfort you? Did it welcome you? Was it everything you imagined?

His mind wouldn't rest.

He could remember as he entered the building. As he heard the resounding and endless applause. He mindlessly entered and was meant with a never-ending crowd, parting as they just clapped, and clapped, and clapped. It rumbled through his ears, bouncing around his brain.

Your eyes were blank.

When the crowd parted, he remembered the clench of his heart as Satoru, bloodied and blank, appeared. He carried Riko's body in his arms. Lifelessly moving forward. His eyes stared right through Suguru.

"You're late," Satoru had teased blankly. His voice distant and flat. It missed its usual punch. "No.... I guess your're early."

Suguru remembered the confusion that washed over him as he stared at the one he loved. "Satoru... is that you...?"

What happened to you?

"It looks like you saw Shoko." Satoru had sounded like he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. Or he didn't care. "Is Y/N there right now?"

Suguru didn't have the heart then. He could remember silently apologizing to you, but he hadn't thought Satoru could handle the news of your death amongst this room.

"Shoko fixed me up fine." His eyes had moved to Riko's limp hand and he felt sick. Her screams were still in his mind. He almost threw up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who messed up. Don't worry about it." Satoru had easily deflected.

Suguru couldn't handle the clapping. They just didn't stop. They clapped, and clapped, and clapped.

Your eyes were blank.

"Suguru," Satoru's voice had stopped him in his tracks. His voice was so detached and so odd. Suguru couldn't handle much change then. He couldn't handle hearing Satoru so different. Not then. "Do you want to kill them all?"

Suguru could remember the shock that shook his body. Could remember the bitterness that immediately followed. The realization that he would love nothing more than to unleash the worst on these people and sum their deaths up as their lives— useless.

"Suguru," He had sworn he heard your voice, distorted and all too sweet. His back stiffened and his eyes widened. "Do you hate them, Suguru?"

He did. He hated them. He wanted them all to burn. He wanted them to suffer. Suguru would've loved nothing more than to have heard all of them plead for their lives. To have the same terror that Riko had when she realized her life was coming to an end. To have that same blank look in their eyes as you had.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's pointless." Suguru had shot down emotionless. He still wasn't sure if he was answering that tiny voice in his head or Satoru, maybe it was both. Who really cared?

"Pointless, huh?" Satoru walked past Suguru and started to make his way outside. "Does there need to be a reason?"

"Of course, it's important." Suguru had easily answered. "Especially as Jujutsu Sorcerers."

11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds later, he believed that was all bullshit.

It surprised him how much and how little could change in a year.

The way everyone seemingly returned to normal and he was left in the past.

Suguru felt like his life was now segregated into two sections: Before the Star Plasma Vessel assignment and after the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. Before and after you.

He realized, quickly and bitterly, that the after you was worse than the before.

Before he knew of your existence, he was happy to be alone. He embraced the fact that kids at school thought him odd, unapproachable. That they would whisper about his habits behind his back. He was happy to know that no one wanted to be around him. It meant they didn't see what he saw. He didn't know anything else.

But the after you was considerably worse.

You had given him that breath of fresh air. That love that he had unknowingly reached out for his entire life. The way you and Satoru had touched him, he didn't even know his heart ached for that type of love. He didn't know he was depraved until you showed him.

He hated it. For a moment, he hated you.

In the first weeks after your death, he felt angry. He was bitter. Even as Satoru rubbed his back in bed. Even as he told Suguru it wasn't his fault. Even as everyone told him that you would hate to see him like that. He felt a hatred. A regret.

For months, he hated you.

He'd ignore topics centered around you. He ignored the day that Shoko and Satoru cleaned out your dorm for a new first year. He was stagnant and blank at the funeral your family held. When everyone walked up to recall memories about you, he didn't. He just listened and he thought that none of them truly captured you. They said you were kind, that you were funny, that you went our of your way to help whoever needed it.

If it was Suguru up there, he would've said you were selfish. That you always put your life on the line when it wasn't needed. That you were arrogant. That you could really make him worry.

But he loved you.

That's what he hated most. Isn't that the worst?

He hated that he loved the way he missed your hugs, your reassurances. He hated that he missed worrying about you. That he wouldn't ever see you again. That he wouldn't join you on a mission and be forced to listen to Yaga or fellow students worry about your sanity. He missed that sometimes you would play into Satoru's words, like saying the three of you were strongest together.

"Hey," Satoru called from across the training yard. Suguru barely looked up. "Have you lost some weight? Are you okay?"

Satoru became "The Strongest". His abilities were starting to blossom and it allowed him to work by himself. The higher-ups sent them alone. And Suguru hadn't felt more confined in his life.

"I'm just a little tired from the summer heat." Suguru easily explained it away, his hands buried deep within his pockets. "It's not a problem."

"Maybe you had too much somen noodles?" Satoru asked, niavely.

"No," Suguru wanted to snap at him. "It's the fact I can't eat without feeling sick. I can't taste anything except the fucking vomit of the curses. I hate it. I hate it. I'm always sick. I'm so hungry. But I can't eat."

Instead, he sighed. "Maybe."

The curse population was springing up like maggots. Everywhere and all consuming. The summer had been busy and Suguru truly was tired. In his heart, he started to blame the mess of last year for the increase of curses. It was easier to blame that than nothing. It was better to put a face to his suffering rather than blame himself.

The repetitiveness of his life was becoming crushing.

An endless cycle of exorcism and consumption.

Exorcise. Consume.

You had once asked him what curses tasted like. Under a beautiful tree and a beautiful night sky. You stared at him from your place on the ground. "Suguru, what does it taste like?"

"It's a taste nobody knows." He had explained. "Like ingesting a rag used to wipe up vomit."

Exorcise. Consume.

"Oh," You had uttered, a heavy frown on your lips as you pondered on it. "I'm sorry."

Exorcise. Consume.

He didn't need your pity then. But it had been nice. It felt nice for someone to pretend they understand the disgust, the bitter tang. He pretended that it helped.

"Thanks."

Then, you asked, "Would it help if you had mints?"

No. "Yes."

That first Christmas you all spent together, you got him mints. And, despite it doing nothing, he still popped one in his mouth every time. False hope that something could push down the disgust he had for his technique, for what he was considered special for. What lengths he went to save people.

For what?

Every since that day, the day you and Riko died, it's been running through Suguru's head. That everything he saw, Toji, your blood, your brains, the never-ending applause of the cult members— it was a hideous evil known to everyone. What he saw wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Still, knowing that, he protects them as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

"We can't lose our way." You had reassured one day when the curse you and him were fighting was particularly ruthless. It had killed so many people that the both of you hadn't been the same for weeks. "Don't lose your way. We just have to follow through with our duty as sorcerers."

The thunderous applause took over that of his heart.

"Monkeys." Suguru uttered in the shower. The first time he whispered it. His eyes unmoving from the wall as the water trickled down, down, and down.

Your eyes were blank.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

His hand clenched above him. "Fucking monkeys."

He snapped the water off and robotically dried himself off.

Suguru felt like he was merely living through the motions. That he was being guided other peoples words and the wind itself. He was merely a leaf being blown away. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to ground himself and force himself to take the wheel. To be in control. He could only watch on.

He found himself hunched over on the bench near the vending machines. He barely acknowledged the rain that poured outside. It was one of those days. Those days where the weather matched his mood and made it considerably worse. Maybe he could get away with hiding inside his dorm. Being curled on the bed and not appearing until the rain was well gone— when Satoru couldn't ask him if he's ate.

He closed his eyes in defeat. How could loneliness possibly feel worse now than it did then? He'd been alone for years before. Why was it worse now?

"Hi! Mister Geto!"

Suguru's eyes snapped open and dragged upwards. "Haibara..."

You liked Haibara. You said so on his first day. When he enthusiastically introduced himself to everyone— gave his blood type and his family history. You had laughed for twenty minuets. You said that Haibara was like a breath of fresh air. He had no idea what he was getting into and he was happy. Suguru said you were looking into it too much. You didn't agree. Then you invited both him and Nanami to join you all on a trip to Shinjuku.

You liked Haibara. He was sweet.

You liked Haibara. So did Suguru.

"Hope all is well!" Haibara continued, seemingly ignorant to the war raging on in Suguru's mind.

You liked Haibara. You trained him. He was sweet.

So did Suguru. "What can I get you to drink?" Suguru asked, pulling some change from his pockets.

"I couldn't possibly—" Haibara's eyes glanced at the vending machine then his eyes brightened. "I'll take a coke!"

Suguru couldn't help the little laugh that broke through his lips. Amusement in his eyes for the first time in a while as he gently dropped the change into the junior's cupped palm. Haibara pratically skipped over to the vending machine, dropping the coins in, and retrieved his coke.

Fully expecting him to carry on with a thanks, Suguru was a little surprised that he sat down beside him and smiled big.

"My mission tomorrow is pretty far away." The boy started, wiggling with excitement.

Suguru smiled softly. "That so? I'll be expecting a souvenir then."

"You got it! Something sweet or savory?"

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

This was the normal. It felt refreshing for everything to be so normal. A silent agreement amongst the second and third years to get everyone who asked a souvenir from their respective mission areas. It made for interesting foods or items. Silly things that he could place on his shelf or for him to take a bite and Satoru to steal the rest. Usually complaining about how no one ever gets him anything. Just like Okinawa when you picked that hat—

Your eyes were empty.

Suguru's smile faded away.

"Haibara..." He spoke, not entirely aware if his junior was speaking before he was. But Haibara's eyes moved to him with curiosity. He bowed his head once again. "Are you okay with being a Jujutsu sorcerer? Doesn't it bother you?"

Immediately, the junior took the question seriously. His chin rested between his finger and thumb, eyes narrowed in thought. "Hm... good question..." He uttered, a vague pout on his lips. "I'm not really the type to think too hard about things..."

"I don't think we should underestimate Haibara or Nanami." You had defended the two new boys against Satoru's beratement one day. Your eyes cut to where they were practicing against Yaga's cursed dolls. "We all started somewhere. I'm sure they'll surprise us one day."

"Giving my all toward something I know I can help with is a great feeling!" Haibara finally answered, snapping his fingers and looking at Suguru head on.

Suguru couldn't help the way his eyes widened. For whatever reason, his answered shocked him. It was a pure answer. Further proof that Suguru was different from everyone else. Proved that he was slowly losing a part of himself. Haibara hadn't been graced with the same tragedy he had. He didn't know the cruelty of people and was still hopeful.

"I see..." Suguru uttered, looking away once again.

"You're right." Spoke another voice that neither of them know. Both of the boys looked over to the woman that stood a few feet from them. She was tall, long blonde hair and she wore a smile on her face. "Are you Geto? What kind of girls are you into?"

Your eyes were blank.

He only stared in return.

"I like girls with healthy appetites!" Haibara answered happily.

Suguru frowned. "Haibara."

"It's fine!" He turned to Surguru with a bright light in his eyes. "She's not a bad person. I'm a pretty good judge of character!"

Suguru felt something in his chest shift.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

"You say that while sitting next to me?" He uttered, sparing the junior a sidelong glance.

"Of course!" Haibara didn't hesitate.

The woman laughed, resting a hand on her hip. "He was being sarcastic, kid!"

No, I'm not. Suguru almost felt compelled to say. But he didn't have the energy. There wasn't any point in arguing with this stranger either. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Something he would happily continue to stay true.

Embarrassed, Haibara excused himself with the woman quickly taking his spot. In an instant, Suguru drew back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is he your junior? Such an honest and cute kid."

Suguru couldn't help the distasteful glare he sent from the side. "As a jujutsu, he shouldn't be so trusting." He said bitterly.

The woman looked a little discouraged by his little jab, but continued on. "And you, Geto? Are you going to answer my question?"

"Answer mine first— who are you?"

The woman raised her chin, a small smirk on her lips. "Special grade sorcerer Yuki Tsukumo. Ring a bell?"

"You're the...?"

Yes. Yes, it did. Suguru thought bitterly.

He could distinctly recall you rambling on about Tsukumo. On how you wished you could be like her. Someone highly recognized and didn't care what the higher-ups said— just lived her life. To Suguru, it sounded like Tsukumo was kind of a failure. But to you, it was as if she was a symbol of something amazing. Proof that something that was suddenly attainable to you.

Suguru had been convinced you just had a crush on her.

"Nice! The what?"

Suguru clenched his jaw at her interruption of his thoughts. "The no-good special grade who doesn't take on any missions and just bums around overseas." He informed her flatly.

The woman's smile slipped away and she pouted heavily. "I hate Jujutsu High!" She fell back, her elbows rested on the back of the bench. She sulking. "Just kidding. But I'm not lying when I say we don't see eye-to-eye. What they do here is treat symptoms. What I want is to get at the root cause."

Suguru couldn't help perking up with interest. "The root cause?" He asked slowly.

"I don't want to exorcise curses after they appear. I want a world where curses don't even exist."

He stared at her in shock. A world without curses? He felt like he could almost rejoice. His heart gave a little skip and he almost felt like things were normal.

"How about a little lesson? Tell me, what are curses anyway?"

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Curses are created when cursed energy leaks from humans. It then gathers like sediment and takes form." He answered easily. It was something taught in their first year, something everyone knows.

"Excellent," Tsukumo encouraged, nodding. "If that's the case, there are two ways to create a world where curses no longer exist: one, eradicate cursed energy from all humanity. Two, teach humans how to control their cursed energy. The first one's not a bad idea. There was a model case for it after all."

"A model case?"

"Someone you're familiar with: Zen'in Toji."

Almost instantly, Suguru felt an anger rush over him. Toji. That was someone else that he tried to avoid thinking about. Usually, it only led to thoughts darker than when he thought about you. He thought about the various things he would've done to Fushiguro if given the chance. The slow and torturous death he would've given to him if he had the chance. He doubted it would eat away the hatred in his heart, but Suguru would take anything to have him suffer as you did. As he did.

"There have been several cases where heavenly restriction has reduced a person's cursed energy to normal levels. But to eradicate one's cursed energy completely... I've searched all over the world, and he's the only one who's ever done it. But that's not the only thing that's interesting about him. Despite not having cursed energy, Zen'in Toji was able to sense curses using his five sense. By eliminating all cursed energy, his body became sharpened to the point where he developed a resistance to curses."

A part of Suguru really wanted to tell Tsukumo that he didn't care. That monster died and he was glad to hear it. Even if he was the only way to get rid of curses, he was overjoyed that the man was dead now.

"Don't feel bad about losing him." Suguru scoffed, face blank. "I wanted to research him but he blew me off. It's too bad he died."

You smiled at Riko. You held her shoulders. You were going to take her home.

Your eyes were blank.

I killed Gojo Satoru.

"Cases of heavenly restriction are few and far between. So my focus is on two." Tsukumo seemed completely unaware of Suguru's mind raging on while she spoke. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Did you know, jujutsu sorcerers don't give birth to curses?"

That snapped Suguru out of his thoughts. He slowly dragged his eyes to stare at the side of the woman's head as she carried on.

"Of course, that's excluding cases where sorcerers become curses after death—" Do you hate them, Suguru? "—The amount of cursed energy that leaks from sorcerers, compared to from non-sorcerers, is extremely low. There is a difference in how much we consume and use cursed energy because of our profession. But the real reason lies in how it flows through us. For sorcerers, it flows heavily within us. If we're talking general terms— if every single human became a jujutsu sorcerer, no curse would ever be born again."

Suguru's world as he knew it, paused.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Those people. Humans. Non-sorcerers. They created the world that killed you. They created a world where he was alone.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"Then why not just kill every non-sorcerer?" He asked softly, not daring to lift his head or eyes from between his feet.

There was a silence between the two of them that made him tense up. He said something wrong. But why didn't it feel wrong? Why didn't the suggestion disgust him or make him sweat? Why did it feel like an idea that was meant to be said?

"Geto," Tsukumo finally spoke, voice slow and calculated. "That is an option."

What?

"In fact, that might be the easiest route!"

Suguru slowly lifted his eyes from the floor and stared at the woman next to him with wide eyes. Now, he felt it. He felt the sweat on his brow. It's an option. "What?" He uttered, tilting his head to try and meet her eye as she stared into the distance. "Um..."

"Weed out non-sorcerers and make them adapt to a jujutsu sorcerer based society. In other words, forced evolution. Kinda like how birds grew wings. Using dear and danger as a catalyst."

It's an option. Suguru couldn't shake his stare. He was holding his breath and just staring at her.

"But," There it is. "I aint' that crazy."

She looked amused, but she didn't know him. She didn't know his feelings and the fact that he hated—

"Do you hate non-sorcerers, Geto?" She asked it sincerely.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

His eyes went back the floor, ashamed. "I don't know." He started with a whisper. "I used to think jujutsu sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers. But recently, I've been doubting whether non-sorcerers are worth fighting for. The preciousness of the weak. The ugliness of the weak. I can no longer tell the difference. The part of me that looks down on non-sorcerers.... the part of me that tries to resist that feeling...."

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

"If being a jujutsu sorcerer is like running a marathon, then the finish line is too unclear." Suguru placed a hand against his forehead, hairs tangled between his fingers. "I don't know what I really feel."

"It's understandable, you know?" Suguru glanced at her with a frown as she eyed him contemplatively. "You watched your friend die, right? It's never easy. Messes you up. I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

You don't.

"Death and mourning something can really conjuring some nasty things in your mind. Like killing non-sorcerers— you want to take that anger out on someone. The anger for your friend's life being taken away." She explained it like it was so easy, as if she knew his next steps when he did not. "But looking down on non-sorcerers... resisting that feeling... those are just possibilities you've thought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you still have to decide."

The conversation didn't lead to anywhere else and Suguru was feeling himself grow more tired the more he stayed away from his dorm. He was about to excuse himself when Tsukumo asked for him to follow her out. She didn't say much on the way out and Suguru was grateful for it.

The woman got on her bike and waved at him. "I'll see ya! I was hoping to say hi to Gojo as well. Bad timing, I guess." She slid her goggles on. "As fellow special grade sorcerers, let's all three of us get along, okay?"

Suguru gave her his best smile, which wasn't much. "I'll send you regards to Gojo."

Tsukumo smiled, starting up her bike. She was about to ride off when she looked back at him. "One last thing. Don't worry about what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel. Whether there was another vessel or another vessel was born— whatever happened, Tengen is stabilized."

He didn't think it possible, but his hatred grew. Tengen is stabilized.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Tengen is stabilized.

Suguru bowed his head as she drove off. "I figured."

What the fuck had you died for, anyway?

Haibara was dead and he'd seen the body. The entire time Suguru thought of you.

As Nanami attempted to hold back tears, as he explained that they were caught off guard by a special grade, Suguru saw you in Haibara's place.

Both of you victims of a system created to protect people who weren't grateful. Who didn't even know you exist. People who had spared both of you not a single glance despite being so caring, so selfless. Who were they to put this unbearable burden on everyone's shoulders then act like you were different?

Haibara was sweet. You liked him. So did Suguru.

Haibara was dead. So were you. Suguru felt hatred build in him.

As he stared at Haibara's bloodied face, he had thought one thing: who would suffer for this death?

Gojo completed the mission. Gojo exorcised the curse. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.

Gojo.

Why should Gojo be the one wrecking havoc? When it was Suguru that was filled with rage? When he was the one that wanted nothing more than to harm the ones that caused this all?

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"What is this?" Suguru asked slowly, staring at the sight before him.

Two girls seemingly coward away from him. Their faces bloodied and bruised. The cage that contained them offered no comfort. Just the cold hard ground and the darkness. They shook under his gaze and he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He couldn't turn around and question the people behind him. He did not know what he'd do if he looked them in the eyes as they explained themselves.

"What do you mean? These two are responsible for the incident, right?" Asked one man.

Suguru clenched his jaw. "No, they are not."

"These two possess strange powers and often attack the villagers."

This was of your own creation.

"I already dealt with the cause for the incident."

"My grandchild nearly died because of these two!" Protested the elderly woman as if she realized that Suguru wasn't going to believe these two were responsible.

The blonde child leaned forward. "That was because they—"

"Shut up you monsters!"

"Your parents were the same! I knew we should've killed you when you were born!"

As the two adults berated the children, Suguru came to a decision. His heart was no longer torn in two. As he stared at the girl's, his resolution was made.

He lifted his finger and a shadowed curse sprouted. "It-It'll be okay..." The girls stared at him with wide eyes, almost relieved. If he were a different man. If he in a different mindset then, he would've cried over the relief that washed over them. "Do...Don't worry... it'll be o-okay."

He ignored how familiar the voice was, how familiar the words were. He'd grown used to finding something that wasn't there in the curses he had collected. The fact that the ones he barely manifested were the ones that sounded like you the most.

Suguru turned around to the villagers and smiled. One that he hadn't managed to conjure up in some time.

"Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?"

The two followed him out and Suguru wasn't sure what words he said, what movement he made, but he could see the horror in their eyes. As he manifested his beloved curses, the one people like them had created, he felt an anger bubble up. Emotions that he had desperately pushed aside in an attempt to continue his life were now running their way to the forefront of his mind.

The grief of losing you. The anger of the complete disregard of you life by the society as a whole. The fact that there was nothing left of you now. Nothing—

"Suguru, do you hate them?"

His body stiffened. His wide eyes dragged from the horrified, begging people before him, to over his shoulder. The shadow that loomed over him now.

He'd read about this before. It was some obscure book he found while researching previous curse manipulators. It talked about various things that he used to prove to Yaga that he was learning something. One section had piqued his interest, but it was never information that he'd use in random day-to-day. Vengeful spirits. Usually, this only happened after sorcerers die without jujutsu being used against them. Their very soul and spirit is corrupted and transformed into something horrible. Something darker than who they truly were in life.

As Suguru stared at the spirit before him now, he knew what he had inadvertently done to you. The way your large body curled around him, wisps of what should be hair floating above you, your body clad in an open and flowing kimono. What caught his eyes the most, were your own eyes. Despite being almost invisible, he was relived. They were not blank. Instead, they looked like they burned with the rage he had held back for years.

It was as if you were the extension of his very soul.

"It should be noted that if you find yourself attached to a vengeful spirit: You must establish a clear master/servant bond. As the spirit is attached to your own soul, they musn't be allowed to overcome you. If exorcism is not an option, then create a clear set of rules. Summon them only when necessary. Vengeful spirits are not to be taken lightly."

"Suguru, do you hate them?" Your eyes did not leave his.

This time, he didn't hesitate nor lie. "Yes."

He heard them whimper in fear.

You moved unnaturally, but he didn't care. "Do you want them to die, Suguru?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Your hand rested on his shoulder and he didnt even care if your talon like nails dug into his flesh. He watched, awestruck, as you turned your feral gaze onto the cowering villagers. "Can I hurt them for you, Suguru?"

Despite your state, despite what it meant for him, he couldn't help but feel the warmth blossom through his chest. He basked in the feeling of your brushed against his shoulder.

"Yes."

An unnatural smile creeped over your face and your shot forward, now clutching your katana.

All Suguru could think was: you're back.

"Suguru....what have you done?"

Geto adjusted his gojogesa with a emotionless mask over his face. The bags that had adorned his eyes for the past year were mostly gone. He was finally able to eat. His mind wasn't constantly ringing with that thunderous applause or the thud of your body. Instead, he was free. There was silence.

Except whenever you spoke.

"Where did you get that energy? Suguru, answer me!"

He had seen Gojo a week ago. He had said his goodbyes, vaguely masked as threat. Geto knew what they were now. Enemies by default. He knew it couldn't be long before the higher-ups found out about the village— known exactly what he'd become that night. He was a curse user.

God, was that a great feeling.

Geto was giddy that night. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt with his freedom. The happiness he felt as he held Nanako and Mimiko in his arms, trekking through the woods to the main street where he dragged them to his parent's house. That whole situation had been something in itself. Their anger, their confusion, the heartbreak for not understanding their son anymore.

Geto had simply taken what he needed for the twins, then left you to take care of his parents.

"You feel it, don't you, Gojo? You see them."

There was an assortment of things that Geto found himself doing after he defected. He suddenly found himself in the place of taking care of two twin girls that clung to his clothes and followed his every word like he was the Buddha guiding them towards enlightenment. There big eyes screamed the thank you's that he did not need or would accept. Still, he could tell that they were trying to prove that they were useful to him. Whatever that meant coming from a pair of 6 year olds.

The second thing he'd started was taking over the Star Plasma Religious Group. Although he heard they had disbanded a year prior, it appeared that they were just absorbed by another money hungry fool scamming them for every last cent they had. Not that he was about to go bad mouthing other people's methods for something he was about to do himself. It was surprisingly easy to take over a religious group when you had a vengeful spirit hanging off of you. The men, although easy to get on his side, he still killed. There was no point to their existence now. Not when he had his own plans outside from worshipping the likes of Tengen.

The last thing he was taking care of was you.

"....What did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. They're was always with me."

Geto's adventure back into the books covering vengeful spirits was actually welcomed this time around. As a younger student, he hadn't really cared to think about what would happen to him if he happened to die in a terribly normal way. But now it was something he regarded with the utmost fascination. The different descriptions of vengeful spirits made him ponder exactly what you were.

Violent and seeking revenge. Sad and lost. Unaware they're dead and seeking guidance. Plague that spreads death, leeching off certain hosts. Clingy, they seek approval from the attached for their actions. These spirits had a connection with the host in their life and feel something unfinished in their death.

He could remember the look in Gojo's eyes as his eyes strained to look over Geto's shoulder. The fear and the realization that washed over him. The anger in his eyes as he seemed to grieve over not only Suguru, but you as well. The waver in his voice as he asked Geto what he had done. It almost made Geto feel bad.

Almost.

Gojo had his life laid out for himself. The higher-ups knew what they could do with him. He was practically bred and born for his role amongst everything. He'd live and die the jujutsu society. Something that always unsettled Suguru, but something Geto accepted. He came second. Last compared to jujutsu.

At least he had you. It was you and him first. Then Gojo. He could make this work again. He wouldn't let anything happen to you again.

Geto shifted his attention elsewhere as he flattened his robes.

God, he really did look the part now, didn't he? Except, maybe, the hair. But he wasn't doing anything about it.

"This place is still a religious group to the public, are you okay with that?" Asked one of the nameless faces that Geto would encounter in his life.

He over looked the stage before him with a flat expression. "As long as I can collect curses and money, that's all right." He reassured.

The man frowned, looking at Geto with some vague confusion. "Are you really going out there like that?"

He let a grin spread across his lips. "Why not? Bluffing and looking the part is important."

"Master Geto..."

He spared the twins a soft glance, a reassuring smile gracing his features. He reached down and ruffled their hair gently. "Be sure to watch closely." He whispered to them, watching with a warmth in his heart as they smiled and giggled at one another. "Have they gathered?"

"Directors, representatives. The chairman. And a lot more money waiting."

Geto grinned, taking the microphone from the man, and making his way out onto the stage.

The last time he'd been in the building they were giving a thunderous applause for Riko's death and, by extension, yours. He had been waiting a year to see them all again. To look them in the eyes and find a proper way to make them suffer. To make them feel the same fear or suffering that you and Riko had in your last moments.

"Can everyone hear me? Thank you for waiting, I'll keep this short." He announced as he came to a stop before them all. Nameless faces, judgmental side eyes, questionable whispers to one another. They did not remember Suguru. But he would make sure they remembered Geto. "As of this moment, this group is mine. We'll have a new name as well. You all will obey me."

Instantly, there was a scattered rise of opposition in the crowd.

Geto's grin faltered as he listened to the various questions of exactly who was he made their way to him. He could hear the anger and the confusion. His frustration heightened.

"Well, isn't that a shame." He dragged a hand over his face, eyes grazing the crowd before he grinned one more. He tried to look as inviting as he could, waving a hand at one man in particular. "Mister Sonoda! Could you please come up to the stage? Yes, that's right, you!"

As the older man stood from his seat and hobbled his way up, Geto narrowed his eyes. Despite his smile, his eyes couldn't hide the contempt and the hatred he had for the man before him. He could see that he noticed in the way he faltered on the steps. But pushed through and stood by Geto's eyes.

He made eye contact with Sonoda, then— "Y/N."

He found it easy to summon you. To watch you tear away at the man who had so brazenly ordered Riko's death. To listen to the garbled expressions of hatred you exclaimed as you tore his enemies limb-by-limb. It felt like it was some form a justice. To finally see the horror in their eyes, the blankness of it all. Bittersweet for him to watch.

However, he couldn't stand there and watch you in awe forever. He had people to take under his control.

Geto turned his attention back to the crowd. Satisfaction grew in his chest as he saw the horror and shock fall over their faces. Easily, Geto threw the microphone away.

"Now then, let's try this again." He scowled at the crowd, feeling you loom over his shoulder once again. He used his thumb to brush away some of the blood. "Obey me, monkeys."

III. 2015

"Are you mad at me, Suguru?"

Things had been going smoothly for Geto in the past eight years.

The cult, because that's what he considered it, was running finely. Those who owed money, gave it to him, or else. Those who followed, followed with loyalty, or else. Those who served no purpose, were dealt with. He had created a normal amongst the congregation. A standard that he himself had wanted to watch them scramble to keep. A constant state of panic or devotion for them that fed into his, honestly, growing ego.

Things like his family kept him rather humble.

The girls had grown accustomed to their lives with Geto. They seemed to thrive and love under his care. All of them had grown to a routine that they cherished with one another. They even seemed accustomed to you. The fear and confusion of others wasn't found in their eyes or hearts. Geto never properly explained what happened after death if certain things didn't take place, but they understood anyone. They knew you were important to him— by extension making you important to them.

The other members of the family— Laure, Miguel, Manami, Toshihisa— had a vague understanding of exactly what a vengeful spirit entailed. Although, they weren't jumping at the opportunity to really talk about it. Laure had attempted once, but the conversation died out quickly due to the look on Geto's face. The man was quick to drop the topic once he saw the expression painting the leader's face. Allegedly, he looked ready to kill.

Earlier that day, though, Miguel was braver. And Geto was in a far clearer mood.

"How did it happen?" The man's deep voice asked gently from where he sat across from Geto. Once the confusion set in of his sudden question, he raised an eyebrow at the apparent shadow rested behind his chair. "How did they get cursed?"

Geto himself had thought about it for years. He wondered what point you had been damned blessed to be attached to his soul even after death. It took him a long time. In the mix of things, death and decay, the sharp turn of his ideals— he had barely any time to really think about what made you this spirit clinging onto his life.

Some books said that it could be the connection shared by the host and spirit before death. Others said that hosts had the ability to curse the spirit themselves. That their desperation and their inability to let go was the true reason that sorcerers would live on as something horrible. Something completely opposite as to who they were in life.

He had pushed the thoughts away before they could ever really come to fruition. The possibility that he had been the one to create you into this. The thought alone was enough to twist his stomach. So instead he ignored it. He lived in blissful ignorance.

"Just happens sometimes after death." Geto answered flatly, turning his attention back to his book. He knew there was curiosity amongst his family to know things about you. Afterall, you were considered a part of the family, but there was simply no room to have conversation with you. You either grew hostile or confused and sought Geto out for answers. "Sorcerers whenever they're killed by a non-curse way or something another.

"Hm," Miguel's hum had remained unconvinced as his eyes trailed back to you. As your fingers hovered over the corner of the seat, but you didn't peek out. "There was a couple in my village back home. They were considered the ideal relationship at the time— I was a kid and thought so too. They were kind people. I always enjoyed getting special treatment from the wife, she was like a mother. She was one of the only other people I ever met in my home country that could see curses. Everything was good. But then her husband went and died from sickness. There was something different from the moment she died. She went a little crazy and one day she went and got real angry. Then— boom, there's her husband. But he was different. He was like yours."

Geto hadn't really known what to make of that rather non-sensical story at the time. He had just stared at Miguel before nodding slowly in return. "That's tragic." He wasn't interested in the possibilities.

"Nanako told me it was hard on you when they died." Miguel carried on as if he hadn't very visibly paused for Geto to speak his heart out. "Said that you said it was the reason you're the way you are now."

There was moments where Geto felt frustration with the twins. Their willingness to be so open with the family. Their ability to talk about their emotions so easily. The fact that they couldn't keep a secret for their lives.

The conversation about you had come up when the house was particularly restless and they were morbidly curious. They asked what you were like alive. What he was like as a kid. What the both of you were like in high school. How did you die.

He had looked off distantly and recalled the details— although he left out the gorey, unlikeable parts. He left in the parts where he was sad, that he had a hard time. He explained it in a way that kids like them could understand and use later to make sure they didn't end up the same way. Isolated and full of hatred.

Then, he made the mistake of mentioning Gojo. Their questions fell on deaf ears as he wished them goodnight and tried to drown out the memories of his youth.

"Don't get on her case about it. She's was just curious what certain things meant." Miguel must've taken his silence as anger because he stared at Geto with pleasantly narrowed eyes. "Have you ever considered exactly what happened to them?"

The question wasn't hostile or had any nefarious undertones.

He might as well had threatened Geto though.

Your eyes were blank.

"Please get up."

Geto had quickly excused himself, claiming that he needed to head to bed. He didn't miss the disappointment in Miguel's eyes or the fact that he had tensed up as you drew closer. He didn't want to think about it. What had taken place before, during, and after your death. He didn't need the questions—

"Please get up."

Tonight he couldn't escape it.

Eight years worth of questions and mystery filled his mind. The things he didn't dare address or ponder upon.

Sitting against his headboard, staring blankly into the darkness, he knew exactly how things ended up like this.

Him, a pathetic boy, staring into your lifeless eyes— he had begged for you to be alive. He had laid there with tears in his eyes, a pain in his chest, and a wavering plead breaking from his lips. Before he had fallen unconscious, he reached out his hand.

He reached out his hand.

Your eyes were blank.

Geto knew that he had cursed you. That his pleads and desperately attempt at touching you one last time had somehow damned you. He didn't need to know how it worked. He just knew that it was his fault.

The disgust in Gojo's eyes, the heartbreak, the shock. It was all things Geto deserved. For he had robbed you of the eternal rest you deserved.

The tears collected in his eyes and, for the first time in eight years, he felt a heavy bought of regret press against his chest.

He's known you longer dead than you were alive. Two years of his life had ruled onto the next eight. He had let his grief blind him. He was desperate to not let you go. To keep up some illusion in his head that he would be able to keep you there. To not let you fade away.

Selfish. He'd never been selfish before your death.

"Suguru?"

Your voice, distorted and garbled, was not something that he wanted to hear in that moment. Whatever reason, you were beside the bed now, head rested against your arms. He barely spared you a glance as the tears spilled over.

Selfish. Here you were now. Some weird sense in you to come out and comfort him. He had done this to you. An eternity to comfort him.

Selfish.

"Suguru, are you angry?" You sounded concerned, an odd sound that it didn't seem to fit you now.

Geto clenched his jaw, flexing his fingers. "Only at myself." He uttered.

You inched forward on the bed, a heavy frown spread across your face. "Why are you angry at yourself?"

He finally dragged his eyes to you, lids heavy and face almost as lifeless as your own. "I cursed you." He said it quietly but it felt extremely loud in his empty room. He looked for any realization in your eyes, any type of anger directed at him, but there was nothing. You just stared in return. You should be enraged. "I cursed you. Don't you understand what that means?"

Still, you didn't look angry.

"You saved me—"

"No, no, I didn't." Geto interrupted, closing his eyes in mild irritation. "I didn't... save you. I cursed you. I-I cursed you to stay by my side as I kill. As I kill in your name, you should be angry, Y/N."

“But… they’ve hurt you.” You say it with such confusion and sincerity that it makes him sick.

It’s then that he realizes what this all meant.

If you were alive now, you would look at him with all the rage in the world. You would damn him. You would be disgusted. If you were alive you would probably try to get him to see it all differently. You would tell him that staying with Gojo would’ve been better than this isolation, than this constant feeling in his chest. You would’ve known better than him.

It was then that he realized that he still blamed you for a lot. He wasn’t sure if things would be the same if just Riko died. Or maybe if you all had lived. Would he still be drawn to the same fate only later? Sometimes he was hopeful that he would be the same. Other times he wished he didn’t. All of it led to one thing: his anger for you.

There were some nights he would stay up and think about what you would do in his position. You would forgive them, try to use death as a chance to grow. You were much kinder than him. Or maybe you would be driven insane. None of you had quite tasted death until that mission. You probably would’ve handled things much differently than him if you had seen where Haibara ended up.

Bitterly, Geto thought, you probably would’ve given up.

Your sadness was always prone to taking you down. To whisper those forbidden and nasty things to you until you just wanted to bleed. You admitted to him and Gojo once that you didn’t even think you would make it to high school once. It scared them both, but you always got back up.

Yeah, you wouldn’t handle the sadness.

With a clenched jaw, Geto reached out and held your face. “I made you into this. You only kill and feel that way because that’s how I feel. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you hate me?” He so desperately wanted you to see it from his point of view. He wanted the logic of it all to hit your brain and for you to finally finish what Toji and Gojo couldn’t— properly kill him.

However, just as you were in life, you would never take his life.

“I don’t care about those things.” You uttered in that distorted voice, those eyes of yours filled with emotions that he couldn’t hand pick. “Have I done something to upset you, Suguru?”

"No." Geto answered without hesitation. He pinched his eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I just want you to understand what this is."

He could feel your nail ghost over his thigh. "I understand."

Geto didn't believe you did, but he didn't have the energy to fight you. Not anymore. A part of him would always long to have a good long argument with you. But now it felt different. It felt as if it were all fabricated.

You were too agreeable now.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me.

But he supposed this was his punishment now. For being so desperate.

He rested his hand on top of your head. "Thanks for listening, I guess."

He can deal with the guilt later.

IV. 2017

Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

At least, a part of him was aware that death with a very high likely once he looked Gojo Satoru in the eye and declared war. Maybe even before that as he overlooked the mess of blood and limbs Rika had left behind at the elementary.

Either way, Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

"Hey," You had spoke one day as the three of them lounge in the courtyard. You had your uniform jacket open and your hair loose from the headband you wore to keep it out of your face. A good memory if it weren't for your next question. "Is it good to live a dishonorable life and have a honorable death, or a honorable life with a dishonorable death?"

"Huh? Why would you ask that now?" Satoru had pouted.

You had shrugged. "I mean, Yaga-sensei says that to be a sorcerer we'll have to live with our regrets, but he never talks about honor."

Satoru, in true fashion, rolled his eyes at you before taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Because it's a bunch of self righteous mumbo-jumbo." He had said through a mouth full.

"Whatever." Your eyes dragged to Suguru. Your face had blossomed into a soft smile. "What do you think, Suguru?"

Suguru had frowned, biting on his lower lip as he thought. "I think what we all consider honorable varies. At the end of the day, you'll have to look back on your life yourself and decide whether you lived it worth wild." As you and Satoru stared at him with raised eyebrows, he shyly shrugged. "Don't worry about how honorable or dishonorable you'll be to others— just live a life that'll make you happy."

While you stared at him with someone akin to awe, Satoru stared blankly at him before bowing. "Truly inspirational, Suguru-sama, please invoke more of your wisdom on us!"

You had defended Suguru fervently as Satoru crowed against your assault. Then, he had been unwavering in his beliefs.

Now, Geto Suguru, stumbling down the ally with a missing arm, knew that all was bullshit.

There was nothing honorable or dishonorable about death. It was all a matter how people viewed you at the time. No one would be truly satisfied with their death because there would be a long list of things they wished they had done or hadn't done in their life.

As Yaga had said, they would all die with regrets.

His plans to obtain Rika had been rooted from a place of pure selfishness. His need to find alternative needs that didn't include using you in the most indescribable and unforgiveable way. He knew, deep down, that if he had used you the way that he planed to use Rika's powers— he would never forgive himself.

He hadn't even wanted to use you against Okkotsu Yuta. But that kid was something else. Most definitely a protege of Gojo Satoru. He could recall the caught off guard look on Okkotsu's face once you appeared. The confusion and the shock that overtook him as you wrapped yourself around Geto Suguru. He had uttered something that made the man falter.

"You're like me?"

There were so many things something that could mean.

You're like me: you're cursed with a love by your side, permanently protecting you against things that you didn't think were dangerous.

You're like me: someone had died so close to you that couldn't quite detach themselves from your soul.

You're like me: you cursed another because you couldn't accept that death was final?

Yes, Geto Suguru bitterly thought as his drive to kill Okkotsu grew. I did.

Now, Geto Suguru couldn't even feel you brewing with his soul. He didn't even think there'd be a difference if you ever left him. But there was this odd sense of loneliness deep within him that made him sick (definitely had nothing to do with the intense blood loss). His stomach churned as his mind silently cried out for you.

Was this true death? Nothing left to hold onto, just the memories and emptiness?

You're like me: you can't live without them.

Geto Suguru fell against the wall of the alley with a bitter scoff. Of course he couldn't. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he spent the last 10 years attach his very life and soul around you. Tried to act like a big boy whenever he was asked what he would do if he was freed from this curse.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Your eyes were blank.

"You finally made it," Geto Suguru snorted as he shifted his eyes over to the looming figure feet from him. "Satoru."

There was something so jarring seeing him now.

Compared to when he arrived a month prior, Gojo Satoru lacked those bandages around his eyes. Those blinding and once comforting pair of sky blues were staring into his very soul blankly. Did he realize that he wasn't coming to say goodbye to you? To free you from a monster like Geto Suguru? That he had actually used you in a last ditch effort to obtain Rika?

He was sure he was aware now.

"You'll be the one to take me down, huh?" He kept a hold on his shoulder as he dragged his eyes away from Gojo Satoru to avoid the unbearable guilt that overcame him. Years of regret and what if's overtaking his mind. "How's my family?"

As long as Nanako and Mimiko were safe, he could die without regret.

"They all got away. Kyoto was your doing too, wasn't it?" Gojo Satoru's voice was as telling as it was 10 years ago. As saddened and angered as the day he had walked away from it all.

"Yeah, unlike you, I'm a kind person. You sent those two here knowing I'd defeat them.... just so you could trigger Okkotsu's growth." He had been thinking about it since the moment Okkotsu's eyes had darkened. The unbearable grief that took over the boy as he eyed his unmoving and bloody friends.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's called trust. People with beliefs like yours wouldn't kill a young sorcerer without reason."

Geto Suguru laughed. "Trust, huh?" He couldn't help the amusement flow through him. After all these years... "I didn't realize you still felt any connection with me."

His counterpart responded with a scoff. "Suguru." It was said with the weight of a thousand lonely days— as if Satoru had thought the same. As if nothing had changed. The man clenched his jaw, ducking his eyes from view as he spoke once again: "Any last words?"

Geto Suguru drew in a heavy breath, things were really getting hazy now— almost feather light. "No matter what, I'll always hate those monkeys." His words were said with the disdain and hatred of the past ten years. Then he thought about where he was 10 years ago. The grief and the isolation that overtook him. He grew quiet. "But it's not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu High. It's just that in this world... I couldn't wear a heartfelt smile."

Satoru stood there in silence. Seeming to take in the words carefully.

"Anything else?" He uttered.

Suguru frowned, ducking his head. There was one thing he had been thinking about for the past two years that grappled him in the most unnerving ways. "Do you think they'll forgive me?" His question was soft and barely there— he was barely there himself anyway.

Satoru scoffed, except it sounded more fond than before. "They were always too forgiving of us. If you're worried about your purgatory being apologizing to them for eternity, then you're fine— it'd be too easy anyway." He joked softly, except his blank expression didn't quite add to the comfort or joke of it all.

I'd spend the rest of time apologizing. Suguru fought the urge to say.

"I figured."

"Suguru," Satoru took attentive steps forward, crouching down to his level. Their eyes met and there was something almost tangiable in that gaze of his. "I love you. I forgive you."

Suguru couldn't help the shock that flushed over his body. As the pain seemed to leave him completely, he used the last bits of his strength to show Satoru a true smile. The only one he could really conjure.

"You could at least curse me at the end."

As Satoru stared at him, as Yuta Okkotsu celebrated with his friends the victory and their safety, and as Suguru took his last breaths, his eyes trailed over Satoru's shoulder.

You stared back with a kind smile. Looking more alive than you had in the past ten years, you wore the clothes you had the day you died, your normal boring uniform. Suguru hated to admit he missed seeing those terrible uniforms.

"Suguru."

[targaryenluvs]

SHADOW / EVAN BUCKLEY

PAIRINGS: Evan Buckley x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Evan would go to great lengths to make sure his girlfriend never leaves.

WARNINGS: Stalking, baby trapping, sexual depictions, obsessive behaviour, invasion of privacy, babying, isolation

WORDCOUNT: 3.3K Words

A/N: Uhm, let’s not talk about this…

Evan was in love.

For the first time in his life he was truly, head over heels for someone. Even he himself couldn’t believe it. His friends all noticed the change in demeanour. The excessive happiness that he seemed to radiate at all time. They couldn’t find it in themselves to be anything but happy for him.

He’d had his fair share of relationships, but of course they didn’t last. Whether it was off on travels, untrustworthiness or a bad connection. They didn’t last. But with you, he knew you were the one. From the way you looked up at him, the way you smiled when he held your hand. You never judged him, dealt with his family issues as well as his own recklessness.

You were perfect, in every way. And Buck knew it. It’s why when he found out you were think about breaking up with him that he found himself spiralling.

He’d been using your phone to text Bobby, to tell him he wasn’t coming in the next day. You’d both planned to have a beach day, since the both of you had been busy lately. After texting Bobby, a text from your friend has caught his eye.

Just break up with him!

Evan could feel his heart racing, what the hell?

So he pressed on the conversation and found his worst nightmare. You’d been talking to her about how you found yourself with less time alone, almost always being dragged out to a restaurant or some other place by Buck. You felt smothered, but didn’t have the heart to tell him. If you’d told him he was being clingy he would’ve tried to dial it back. But speaking about him behind his back? To your bitch of a friend?

It wasn’t right of you. And it wasn’t right of her to encourage these thoughts. She’d met Evan before, multiple times. She always talked about how perfect the two of you were for each other. And here she was, trying to get you to leave him, your soulmate.

So he texted her, on your behalf.

I’m not breaking up with him, don’t text me. I don’t want to see you anymore.

Then he blocked her number.

“Evan?” His head rose from the pillow, looking down at you as you walked into the apartment. “Yeah babe? Everything okay?” He heard you jogging up the stairs, “Maya blocked me, I think. I tried to talk to her on Insta and she told me to screw myself. I don’t know what I did wrong.” Bucks heart hurt at the sight of you crying.

“Oh baby, you didn’t do anything. You shouldn’t be thinking about a friend who can be so rude with no explanation. C’mere.” He held his arms out for you as you settled into his arms, tears dampening his shirt. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” He cradled your head against his chest. “I— I just don’t know what I did.”

“Shh, don’t waste your energy on her. Okay?” Your head lifted, “Okay…” He could sense your uncertainty, you’d been friends with Maya for a while, almost a year. He knew it’d be hard for you to get over it, but it was for the best. Evan knew what was best for you.

Your boyfriend was acting strangely, to say the least.

He’d been much more involved with your friends now. Always asking after them, what you guys were doing, whether or not Maya came back in touch. It felt as if you couldn’t breathe in their presence without a million texts from him.

Evan ❤️

Where are you right now?

Who’s with you?

When are you coming home?

Home. He always assumed you were coming to his place. As if you were already living together when you’d only been together for five months. Even when you brought it up to him, he’d brush his actions off.

“I mean we’re practically living together already no? What’s the point in you having your things somewhere else when you can have it here. Saves you a trip in the morning baby.” Evan murmured into your neck as you stood in the bathroom. “I… I have my own place Evan. I like having my own place. It’s not just my things that are there. It’s my place.” His arms briefly tightened around you at the sound of your protest.

“I know, but don’t you want to live with me? Be with me?” Buck retracted his face from your neck, his arms circling around your neck as your hands held on to his arms. “I do! I do want to be with you. I am with you baby.” His frown disappeared in a second, replaced with an unsettling smile. “That’s what I thought.” He kissed your cheek before walking out the door.

You stared into the mirror. What the hell does that mean? That’s what I thought? You shook your head in an attempt to collect your thoughts. Did you want to be in this relationship? Where you felt like you were being babysat? As if Buck was your parent, always asking where you were and who with. As if you couldn’t handle yourself, needing supervision.

It took you another month to realise this isn’t what you wanted in a relationship. You wanted to be equals, to rely on eachother and trust each other. The ability to go out and not give your exact location every ten minutes. To not feel as if you have an overwhelming pressure behind you, always looming. Like a shadow.

But it was a month too long. You’d given Evan even more access into your life. He’d sweet talked you into sharing your live location with you. Even your bank account was accessible to him, being able to overlook your transactions. He had keys to your apartment and even his face ID on your phone (not that you knew he had access to your phone).

You’d confided in your best friend. And she’d encouraged you the whole time. She herself hadn’t noticed Evan’s overbearing behaviour, he always handled himself properly in public. Not a single person would suspect him of being so controlling. He was to sweet for that. And even if they noticed his clinginess, they viewed it as a sweet trait.

He loves you so much he can’t breathe without you. Half of his personality had become you. His wallpaper was a photo of the two of you, his password was now your birthday. His pantry and fridge were filled with your favourite foods, even when you weren’t staying over.

It was all you. Evan finally had someone to love, to spoil and to hold with all his might. He’d be damned if someone tried to take you from him. So when he used your phone to call an Uber since you’d both walked to the restaurant, imagine his surprise and anger in finding another friend of yours against him.

Y/n: I think I’ll tell him tonight, at his place. Somewhere he feels comfortable and won’t be embarrassed.

Rebekah: Good idea, I hope he takes it well. I don’t think he means to cling in all honesty. Might just be a subconscious decision since he hasn’t had many long term relationships. Hopefully he finds someone for him.

Y/n: I know, me too. I just feel so bad, he’s had like two or three girlfriends before me and none of them worked out :(

Rebekah: I know babe, but don’t stay with him out of pity. That’s even worse for him.

Y/n: It’s not pity, I’m not still with him out of pity. I really do love him, but I can’t help feeling as if I have no space. He’s always asking for where I am, and with whom. It’s overbearing. And he seemingly can’t handle me being independent, as if I need him to do everything for me. I’m not a child.

Rebekah: You aren’t, no where near it. I get that you love him, but this isn’t healthy. You both deserve better. Some girls love a guy who cares so much. Wishing you all the best, I have a wine bottle waiting for us x

Y/n: Maybe I can wait to do it another night? I’m having a good time, reminds me why I love him :(

Rebekah: No!! If you keep going you’ll never get away.

Y/n: Pleaseeee??

Rebekah: Breakup sex isn’t a horrible idea. Might soften the blow lmao 🤣

Y/n: That’s not what I meant! I’m gonna go, and am NOT leaving to have sex.

Rebekah: Whatever you say, happy break up day xx 💋

Happy break up day? What a bitch.

If there was one aspect of your relationship that never suffered, it was in the bedroom. And Evan couldn’t help but notice when he was closing your open apps, your cycle tracking app. His thumb hovered over it, he looked around to make sure you weren’t returning from the bathroom. Only a few words stuck out for Evan.

High chance of getting pregnant.

You soaked in the ride back to Evans place. One more night with him, that’s all you were giving him. The idea of breaking up with sounded alright over text, but actually facing it? Your hands were sweating, heart racing. You didn’t want to let go, but you knew you had to.

Now or never.

Your eyes darted around Evans apartment, soaking it all up for your last time, when his hands came around your waist as he kissed your neck. “A bit eager aren’t we?” You joked as his hold tightened, “Mhm.” He grabbed you by the hips before turning you to face him, “You look amazing, and you smell so good.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliments, Evan always knew how to make a girl blush.

“I do?” His hands cradled your face, kissing you on the forehead, “You do baby.” Evan’s hands travelled down to your butt, “Up.” He only needed one word, and so did you. He carried you up the stairs, then softly laying you down on the bed.

Evan was swift in taking your dress off, then his own outfit. “I love you.” He spoke as he thrust into you, your hands held on tightly to his hair, “Oh god Evan!” He couldn’t contain his smirk, he loved you like this. An absolute mess, all for him.

“Say it back.” His fingers dug into your hips.

“Ow! What?” Your brain was foggy, Evans words went in and out your ears.

“Say. It. Back.” His voice held no sweetness, it was purely demanding. His pace was brutal, and again it felt as if you couldn’t breathe. The pleasure was overwhelming, you felt so good. “I…” Your heart was racing again, it felt wrong to tell him you loved him.

His teeth bit down on your collarbone, “I love you!”

You shouldn’t have said it back. It was all that you could think about as his demeanour changed again, a lovesick grin on his face as he kissed you passionately. His hands felt heavy on your skin, burning into you. All you could feel was Evan. Your head was hazy as he carried you, bridal style. The water was warm, and so was he.

Evan slid in behind you in the bath, his arms were strong around you. He took his time in cleaning you off, savouring the moment. “You hungry?” He sounded so casual, as if he hadn’t literally bruised you moments before. “A little.” Your voice was quiet for some reason, you didn’t know why. “We’ll have anything you want.”

That night you spent with him was one of the weirdest of your life. You felt safe with him, more so than you felt with anyone else. But you couldn’t shake the memories of prior times. Him literally crashing a birthday party to make sure you were where you said you were. Evan dragging you back into bed when you needed to work. Him telling you to not reach for the top shelf, saying it was ‘too much for you’. Or him cutting up your food.

Everytime he looked at you, you felt conflicted.

Was this what love was? Uncertainty? Through the night you found yourself tired. Your brain was constantly filing through a million thoughts, about Evan, about yourself and your life. You loved him, but would it be wrong to stay with someone who seemingly infiltrated every aspect of your life? You didn’t know, all you knew was that the pizza was amazing and he was snuggly.

So you stayed the night. You’d fallen asleep in his arms halfway through ‘Me Before You’. You’d spent majority of the movie arguing over whether she should’ve stayed with him or left. And whether he should’ve lived to be with her. “It’s not right! He’s miserable! She should be understanding of him wanting to leave! Which she is in the end.” Evan shook his head as he tossed his slice into the box. “You’re so wrong.” You gasped.

“He should stayed for her. He knew she loved him and it was selfish of him to leave.”

“He was miserable Evan!”

“Would you leave me if I lost my ability to walk?”

Well that sentence shut you up quickly. “I—, I wouldn’t. I’d stay with you. But the movie is different, she meets him afterwards. He’s already miserable, and she makes it better, yes. But he knows he can’t give her the life she deserves. So he’s selfless in letting her go. And also, if you wanted to go, I’d support you. I’d be sad, yes, but you’re not happy. And I’d want you to be happy.”

“I’d never tell you to leave me. You’re too good to let go. Having you by my side is all I need.” You remained staring at the screen, unable to move. “Thank you.” Evan raised his eyebrows at your dismissal of his words.

“I love you Y/n.”

You turned to him with a small smile, “Love you too.” And within ten minutes, you were sleeping in his arms. Evan glanced down at you with a smile before pulling out his phone. He typed out the date of yesterday. It seemed like a date he’d need to remember. And it was lucky, in about nine months, he’d be holding a mini you in his arms.

You woke up with Evans arm draped over you, locking you in place. You slipped out slowly, grabbing a shirt and leggings of yours. You’d failed in breaking up with him, you knew you had. Last night had sucked you right back in to the storm that was Evan Buckley.

He looked at peace when he slept. Content. Maybe you could have a talk with him about boundaries. You weren’t ready to let go of him yet. And it was exactly what he was counting on, he’d wormed his way into your life. To the point where you weren’t sure what life was like without him.

Evan kept his eyes closed as you left. Letting you think you’d gotten away without him knowing. Last night was amazing in his opinion, and when you didn’t respond through out the day he surprisingly kept his cool. He had a good feeling about the night, and if he was lucky, you’d come crawling back either way.

The day had been quiet, you ran some errands, completed your laundry. And with only one text for Evan compared to the usual twenty.

Have a good day ❤️

You found yourself smiling at the text. Simple and sweet. Maybe he’d read your mind and was now reeling back? God you hoped he was adjusting his behaviour. And through the rest of the week, he didn’t show up. He didn’t randomly come to pick you up from work, or bombard you with calls and texts when you went out for drinks. You’d become so accustomed to telling him your location that he didn’t have to ask.

You called every day, barely over an hour. Just debriefing eachother about your days and gossiping. It felt as if you were both improving in your relationship. You were lowering your guard, and he was working his way in. He wasn’t being too pushy, and you weren’t being protective.

And it was a new chapter in your eyes. Since he’d stayed that way. You found yourself even happier than usual. Going out with him more willingly, especially to dinners with the 118. In two months, they saw more of Bucks girlfriend then they had in the previous 7-8 months.

And whilst you may not have noticed any changes of your own physically, Evan sure did. He felt them, your chest was heavier, and a slight bump was developing. You’d recently been an avid sushi lover when it came to eating out, and you’d been having cravings.

You’d confided in Evan about missing your period, and whilst he acted concerned, it was probably the best news he’d ever gotten. He’d come home the next day after his shift with about six different home pregnancy tests. And you’d been willing to take them.

His world stopped when each one came out positive. But first he had to gauge your reaction, the relief was unmatched when you turned to him with a smile. “We’re having a kid.” You whispered as he nodded, “A mini you, or me.” Tears fell down your face as you squealed before jumping onto him. He laughed as you buried your face into his shoulder before facing him, “You’re gonna be a daddy.” And he couldn’t help but cry himself.

You were going to be a family.

Evan was outstanding when it came to taking care of you. Anything you needed was in front of you within the hour. You’re tired? Here’s a pillow, blanket and soothing sounds to help you sleep. You’re hungry? Here’s every craving that he’s logged of yours, with delivery on the way. You’re sore? He’s got oil in his hands and eager look on his face, to which you tease him.

“Missed me that much huh?”

“You have no idea.” He whispered before kissing you.

It was a Friday dinner at Bobby and Athena’s when you announced the pregnancy to them. To which you were met with blank stares which eventually erupted into cheers and hugs.

“Oh god, Bucks having a kid before me.” Chimney shuddered as Evan slapped his bicep, “Evans going to be an amazing father.” You smiled as he grinned, “Why thank you Mrs Buckley.” He kissed you before you could react, is marriage around the corner for you?

“Well actually…” Maddie spoke out as you all turned, “Oh my god, are we pregnant at the same time?” Her small nod caused chaos to erupt amongst the home, “Two new additions to the family!” Bobby cheered. Chimneys mind was close to exploding as he hugged her.

“I’m so happy they all know.” You spoke happily as Evan sighed, “I can’t believe she’s pregnant.” You kissed his cheek before holding his hands, “Do we need to have the butterflies and bees talk?” He rolled his eyes as you pretended to pout, and he poked your cheek.

“Can’t believe we’re going to be a family. The three of us, forever.” Evan kissed the top of your head as Athena and Bobby smiled, “They’re going to be great parents.” Bobby nodded along, “Can’t believe Buck’s going to be a father. I remember his first day, and now he has a whole family.” He couldn’t help the slight tears in his eyes.

As Evan stood in the middle of the room he felt happier than ever. He had a family he loved and a family member on the way. He knew he finally had everything the could’ve ever wanted. Especially with the girl he loved in his arms, and he’d never let go.

[here-for-fanart]

My Opinion on Timebomb Fics

(Disclaimer: This is by no means serious criticism. I love all Timebomb fics. Thank you to the authors that write them. You're one of the reasons I'm alive today. This is just my opinion on the Timebomb canon dynamic and what I wish there was more of.)

Can we agree, it is hard as hell to write the Timebomb dynamic correctly? I stan maybe a handful of Timebomb fics, and even some of those have the wrong dynamic to me. To me, Timebomb is the peak of enemies to lovers, because the conflicts between them are nearly impossible to resolve. For the fics to feel canon to me, they have to have:

• Jinx remaining Jinx. Any fics that take her back to being Powder (or even call her Powder), or cure her insanity with the power of love, don't work for me. She's Jinx, and she's worked hard to get to the level of crazy she's at. What makes Jinx the better version of Powder is that she has Powder's heart, but she's more cunning, reckless, and dangerously capable. She thinks outside of the box and never conforms to anyone's rules, unless it benefits her. Anything that changes that is out of character, in my opinion.

• Ekko having an attraction and romantic feelings towards Jinx, outside of his history with Powder. I want him to feel all the guilt and angst, because here is the crazy, psychotic killer who has been murdering his friends, but he thinks she's attractive and wants to date her. Ekko liking Jinx solely because she used to be Powder, or as an older version of Powder, is lazy writing to me. I want the mental anguish of an Ekko who hates himself, because Powder is gone, and this demon is in her place, and he's STILL falling for her. I want him to question his own sanity at some point, because why does he like THIS? I want Ekko to fall for her, before he sees any hint of Powder in her. Seeing the old Powder in Jinx should be a bonus to his love for her, not the foundation of it.

• Belligerent Teamwork. They are enemies and have been for years. I don't like the fics where they just fall into easy teamwork, as if they were picking up where they left off as kids. I want them to be at each other's throats about decisions. Jinx is a lone wolf with problems following authority, and Ekko has been the leader of the Firelights for years. There is gonna be some tension. Who's in charge? Ha, let them fight for dominance. 😈

• Jinx being bad at romance/sex/love. This is the girl who has been isolated for a lot of her life. Even when she was with the gang in the first three episodes of season 1, she felt like an outlier. With her trust issues, there's no way she was comfortable enough to explore her sexuality and get to know people on an intimate level. At least, not healthily. At most, I'd give her reckless one-night stands or having killed her old exes during a psychotic episode. Other than that, I think Ekko is the more experienced between them.

• A healthy respect for each other. Even if Jinx is frothing at the mouth mad, or Ekko is being a coward in Jinx's eyes, I want them to still have an underlying respect for each other. Ekko should never think less of Jinx for her mental instability. And Jinx, while ruthless, should respect Ekko's decision to put his people before himself. Even if they disagree and do not understand each other's decisions, they should respect each other in their private thoughts.

____________

That's just a few things I'd want in a fic. I'm pretty sure my opinion will change with the new season, but it's a welcome change. Thank you again to all the writers who write the fics I read and provide me with my dopamine/serotonin fix on a daily basis. I appreciate all your hard work!

Is there anything you guys wish Timebomb fics had? I'd love to hear it.

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Hc on the first time Bruce clearly says I love you

(quick note : Bruce tends to show his love through actions that scream "I love you with all my soul" rather than saying it outright. But hey, let’s have some fun with this)

To Dick - He's 12. Him, Bruce and Alfred just came home from a day out. They spent the day at an amusement park for his bday. Dick has never been happier, so just before he runs back to his room, he turns abruptly to Bruce, almost tripping him and with the brightest smile, he says it. "That was sooo cool ! Thank you, I love you !". Bruce is taken aback but the smile is too blinding which pushes him to not overthink : "I love you too, Dick."

To Jason - After a long period of distancing himself, Jason is finally back with the Batfamily. The tension is still there, but Jason is more open to being around Bruce. One morning, Bruce is in the kitchen having breakfast when Jason walks in. For the first time in a long time, Jason opens the fridge and grabs something to eat. Bruce watches him, feeling moved by the casual domesticity. “Jason ?” He says softly. “Mmh?” “Thank you for being around. I love you." Bruce doesn't immediately realize that he said it, and when he does, Bruce practically runs away.

To Cass - She’s gotten into calligraphy and creates a “Love you” sign, which she slides under Bruce's bedroom door. The next morning, Bruce comes into the kitchen holding up the sign, looking preoccupied. Or is he choked up ? Anyway, “Who made this ?” he asks. Cass raises her hand with a shy smile. Without hesitation, Bruce strides over and pulls her into a hug. “I love you too, kiddo.”

To Clark - On the field, Clark has gone rogue due to red kryptonite. After a grueling battle, the League manages to subdue him and Batman uses kryptonite to neutralize him. This time, however, they're not sure Superman's going to snap out of it. Exhausted both physically and emotionally, Bruce drives the kryptonite into his chest and whispers, "I’m sorry, Clark. I... I love you. Please come back." (bonus points if it buys into the cliché and is what makes Clark come back)

To Damian - He's having a particularly rough time, feeling inadequate, but also misunderstood because ultimately he's still a kid and doesn't know yet how to express himself. That night, he lashes out and pushes everyone away, isolating himself. Bruce's heart breaks when he realizes what's really happening and tells him through the locked door : “I want you to know something important: I love you, and I’m really proud of you, no matter what.” Damian swings the door open and clings onto his father with all his might that night.

To Alfred - Bruce is young and has been Batman for just a couple years. Earlier that night, he sees a father and son playing in the park. It's simple, but, through his whole night out, his mind is relentlessly thinking of them. When he arrives home, Alfred is waiting for him, ready to provide comfort. As always. Bruce is taking off his mask, and when he looks at Alfred, he sees a father. "Alfred. I don’t say it enough-- I don't say it at all but... I love you."

To Tim - Bruce is stuck on a case, and lacking on so many others. The past month has been extremely tough. The cases are piling on but he's burning out, he has his nose to the grindstone. Tim gets home after being away for a couple weeks. Immediately, he gets on the cases too and, because he has a clearer and fresher perspective, he points out a few crucial points. Bruce, dark-circled and unkempt, looks up abruptly : "Y--yes, that's right... How did I not-- Damnit finally ! I goddamn love you, Tim."

[chxrryhansen]

౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Cherry’s SStan Series Rec List

here are my sebastian stan series fic recs! they are mostly bucky barnes series but mainly Au’s! i will be creating separate lists for cevans one shots and sstan one shots😚

Clockwork - @sgt-seabass

When life seems to be finally back on track, a visit by a mob boss to your dainty town changes everything. (Dark!Alpha Nick Fowler)

The Soldat And The Sparrow - @navybrat817

Your fire burns for the Winter Soldier. And one day, you'll be free. Both of you.

For The Love Of The Game - @pellucid-constellations

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

The Heart Is A Deep Ocean - @dreamlessinparis

Titanic was known as the ship of dreams. For you, it was the dream of getting home, or so you thought. From the moment you locked eyes with James Buchanan Barnes, all those dreams changed and your life was never the same.

Everything’s Better In WestView - @espinosaurusrexex

Bucky and Y/N sneak into Westview to have the perfect life. Away from late Steve and Tony, Vision and Natasha, they let themselves be consumed by suburban magic. To their surprise, however, some of these people aren’t so dead in the town. And there are some other weird things happening that make them question their sanity. But that’s okay, right? ‘Cause everything’s better in Westview.

The Bride Of Soldat - @vampy-doll

In the summer of 1986, a young woman goes missing whenever HYDRA kidnaps her to be their next experiment for the reward of their Soldat. Now, post blip, Bucky starts to remember defining details of his love, his match made in hell, and is determined to find her. But after years of isolation and torture after his escape, she isn’t who he remembers. Now they’re trying to piece together who she was pre-HYDRA to teach her how to live, without his undying love and obsession of her getting in the way. But when one head is cut off, two more shall grow in its place, leaving them to discover those behind her abduction.

Awake My Soul - @foreverindreamlandd

It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Guiding Light - @wkemeup

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

The Witness - @wkemeup

Owner of a bar full of criminals, maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you’re the sole witness to a hydra hit. In comes Detective Barnes, the quick-witted, flirtatious cop who somehow became a regular at your misfit bar. When he takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

Under Oath - @ugh-supersoldiers

The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all.

Just One Kiss - @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

He’s Hazardous To My Health - @writing-for-marvel

Bucky Barnes is a beefy paramedic with a traumatic past, who has left a trail of broken hearts behind him. You are a resident doctor new to town, who barely has time to date between long shifts. When your paths cross in your ER during a disaster, is it the start of something magical, or are you destined to be just another of Bucky’s former flames?

Just Try - @waiting4inspiration

Perfectly happy with your life at the Avengers’ compound, an alpha walks into your life, flipping it completely over and revealing secrets you hoped you had buried a long time ago.

Дорогая - @waiting4inspiration

Bucky's Winter Soldier programming has been triggered. Turns out the Winter Soldier has a thing for you.

Red Ties - @sebstan2020

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend Owens. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Delicate Edges - @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Pride And Privacy - @adrinktostopyourthirst

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

Feelings Are Fatal - @sunmoonandeddie

After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

Appointments - @noctumbra

bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him. 

Lazarus - @sagechanoafterdark

Things are complicated between you and James Barnes. For you, life doesn’t mean much when you never stay dead for very long. But it might just be an ex-soviet assassin that convinces you to start living again.

Its A Deal - @justreadingfics

You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.  

The Two Of Us - @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

Snow - @delaber

Tired of your constant bickering, Sam sends you and Bucky on a mission alone. When the worst possible outcome happens and you’re forced to spend several days together in a small cabin, you finally get to see a different, more pleasurable side to the man whose flesh you’ve always had a thorn in.

All Good Things - @sagechanoafterdark

After only three days of dealing with the annoying specter haunting you, you break the rules and accidently give a ghost a body. So what do you do when you find out the man you’re now sharing your your apartment with isn’t really a ghost and that haunted touch is a little warmer than you realized?

Welcome Home… Soldat? - @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Heavy Metal Lover - @mypoisonedvine

every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional. (Sub!Bucky Barnes + Dominatrix!Reader)

Parent-Teacher Conference - @coffeecatsandcandles

James Barnes, a widowed single dad, had forgotten what love felt like and let it crush him, taking his daughter, Rebecca, with him. He was cold, rude, and arrogant, being one of the few teachers at Westview High School the students seemed to absolutely despise. But when you show up, a hopeful math teacher who’d previously taught Rebecca’s kindergarten class, and are adored by your students and colleagues- James’s attitude starts to change.

Duck & Cover - @whirlybirbs

you’re the howling commandos’ new medic (Sniper!Bucky Barnes)

Winter’s Mate - @maggyme13

The Winter Soldier threatens to get out of control with his instincts taking over more and more. After years of supressed ruts his body built up a resistance and Hydra need to find another solution. Deciding it would be the easiest to just give in. Hydra kidnapped the reader to turn her into a Omega in Heat using injections whenever needed.

Key’s In Your Ignition - @georgiapeach30513

Caught up in a sexual relationship with your father’s Vice President, and trying to not get caught.  Blind to everything else that’s going on in the club, and even your old crush, Bucky Barnes.  Not even noticing your brother and best friend flirting, until your father suddenly passes, and things in the club drastically change. (Ari Levinson + Bucky Barnes + Harvard Hottie- Hayden)

[bootsukki]

"AITA for pushing my best friend away?"

masterlist

warnings: english is not my first language!! use of (y/n), teenagers in love lol

This it my first time posting here and I really don't know how to use Reddit but...

I (17M) have been friends with this girl (17F) since my first year of high school. I've never been really sociable and I can only say that, until then, I had one friend but ever since I met her, I have considered her a really close friend.

We go to the same class and I’ve been getting this weird feeling whenever I see her or when we talk. It has been happening for a while now, but ever since we came back from break, it has affected me mentally. I can't concentrate on tasks and I need to prepare for my final exams and university entrance exams so I have decided to just, ignore her, I guess?

The thing is that the feeling has not gone away and it has grown and I don't know what to do. Maybe she's not the problem and I just have anxiety for the future? idk.

Am I the asshole for pushing her away without an explanation? I'm the worst with social interactions.

It was the middle of Tsukishima's third year, a time that should have been filled with the usual grind of studying, volleyball practice, and casual banter with friends. But lately, something had shifted. And it had everything to do with his best friend (Y/N).

She had been friends with Tsukishima for more than three years. Tsukishima could not remember what brought him closer to her, but he remembered clearly that he first noticed her his second day at Karasuno. (Y/N) was not afraid of challening him and his sharp tongue, and somehow, even when he didn't mean to, he let his cold demeanor down whenever she was with him. If he was being honest, being friends with her was easy and everybody knew it.

It was easy until he spent a week away visiting Akiteru. Then, he started to feel it - a weird and unfamiliar tightness in his chest whenever he saw her texts on his screen and the heat on his cheeks whenever he opened her Instagram story. He dismissed it as home sickness. Truth be told, he had not been away from home for more than a few days and even when they had no school, (Y/N) and Yamaguchi were always trying to hang out with him but, why would his heart skip a beat whenever his phone pinged with a notification?

Then, it became worse. Back at school, his heart quickened whenever he heard her laugh or when her hand would softly brush his trying to reach a pencil. It made no sense to him and the uncertainty gnawed at him, annoyed as well. He needed to concentrate on getting a good grade for his university entrance exam and needed no distractions.

So, he began to isolate himself and push her away.

It started small—avoiding eye contact, muttering curt answers when she asked how his day was. Soon, he stopped texting her back, stopped waiting for her after classes, and made excuses when (Y/N) asked to hang out. She didn’t seem to notice at first, still bright and hopeful, assuming that Tsukki was just being his usual, antisocial self. But then she started frowning more, voice dropping when asking him if there was something worng and sighing whenever her texts weren't answered.

Tsukishima opened his laptop to see that his Reddit post had comments on it and opened it quickly.

"Hey! YTA bruh."

"you have feelings for her lol i can feel it from this side of the screen... weird feeling and can't concentrate on tasks!! bro, you are in love with this girl but yeh, YTA for pushing her away without saying a damn thing so you need to fix this if you want her to be your friend or girlfriend lmao good luck"

"you're just a teenager in love, talk to her"

Like her? Not even like her, LOVE her? Tsukishima shook his head, blushing sightly at the sight of those words on his screen. He didn't like her like that, right?

Tsukishima turned his computer off, laying his head on the desk, closing his eyes. The closer he got to (Y/N), the harder it became to ignore those feelings happening inside him. He hated it. He hated the vulnerability that came with trying to find out his true feelings for her, because, even if he wanted to avoid them, they were completely true.

Since the beginning of their friendship, he always found her pretty and as time passed as he got to know her, he knew he was completely fucked.

Why did he let it get so hard? He could never tell her. What would she say? She would probably reject him and ruin their whole friendship and that what something he did not want at all. Not now that they were going to the same universitry but he was not like Kuroo, who told him stories about his university flings or Bokuto, who had no problem telling anyone what he felt.

(Y/N) deserved someone better than him, someone that could communicate their problems and love her unconditionally. Tsukishima sighed deeply, moving from his desk to his bed, looking at his phone, trying to find her last messages that he had not responded. If he told her how he felt, she’d probably laugh it off or, worse, feel sorry for him.

And so, he kept her at arm’s length, until one afternoon.

"Tsukki, wait!" (Y/N)'s voice rang out and Tsukishima froze. He had just finished volleyball practice and was walking back to the volleyball club room when he heard rapid footsteps walking up the stairs.

He turned slowly, adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, looking at the shorter girl, still in her uniform, up and down.

"What?'" His tone was flat but she didn't back down, instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him angrily.

She stepped closer. "You've been avoiding me." Her eyes searched his face for an answer. "For like... two weeks now. Care to explain why?"

Tsukishima clenched his jaw, hands tigheting into fists at his side. She was completely right and the truth was sitting like a weight on his chest. He had no escape now and had to make a decision: tell you the truth and suffer the consequences of her rejection or lie and hope she believes his lie.

He was about to open his mouth but the sight of (Y/N)'s face stopped him. There was no sight of anger but of concern and hurt that broke his heart. He was a complete asshole.

"Did I do something to upset you? I-"

"No." Tsukishima replied, heart pounding. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then?" She stepped even closer to him, little space between them. "I don't understand why you've been pushing me away and not answering my texts or even looking at me."

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't but her saddened eyes bore into him, desperate for an answer and he crumbled under her gaze, like always.

"You need to talk to me, Tsukki." She whispered. "Please."

"I..." He took a deep breath, eyes darting away from her face. "I like you."

The silence that followed felt deafening and she blinked, stunned at the soft words spoken by the boy. He turned away, heat rising to his cheeks.

"I don't expect you to like me back." he said "But I... I suppose I needed to tell you even though that may have totally ruined our friendship."

(Y/N) stepped closer to him and, trembling, hugged him from behind, his, still, sweaty body, jumping from the sudden closeness of her body to his.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was gentle and low, as if she was hiding her face too and her touch sent a shiver down Tsukishima's spine.

"It's stupid, right?"

She giggled, shaking her had. "You're an idiot, Tsukishima Kei." She stopped hugging her for a second and he turned, eyes widening at her rosy cheeks and big smile. "I've liked you for a year now."

"What?"

She blushed again, looking into his golden eyes. "I thought you'd never notice or that you didn't want to hurt my feelings."

Tsukishima stared at the girl in front of him, trying to process her words. He didn't know what to say to her. He had never had a girlfriend or even had a girl approach him like this. He had his first kiss with a girl on Kageyama's birhtday party last year but that was it.

"I... I don't know how to proceed." He admitted. "The... Boyfriend-girlfriend thing? I'll screw things up."

She laughed softly and nodded. "You want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Duh."

She smiled and nodded again. "That's okay. I don't know either but... We'll figure it out?"

For a moment, Tsukishima stood there, watching (Y/N) as she played with the sleeve of his jacket. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain some control at the thought of (Y/N) being his girlfriend but he took a step closer, reaching for one of her hands, interwining his fingers with hers while his other hand went to her face, caressing her cheek softly.

His heart thudded heavily in his chest as (Y/N) stood on her tiptoes, tilting her head slighty and eyes closing as her lips brushed against his, tentative, as if she were asking for permission and he froze once again, but, without a second thought, he leaned into the kiss, his hand slipping from her cheek to her waist, pulling her just a bit closer.

Just as he was about to pull away, a loud, familiar voice echoed down the hall.

"WOAHHHH! WHAT IS THIS?!"

Tsukishima froze, his lips still hovering close to (Y/N)'s as his eyes snapped open in horror. Both of them quickly turned to see Hinata standing a few feet away, mouth agape, eyes wide in shock and delight.

Before either could react, Yamaguchi came jogging up behind Hinata, looking confused.

"Hinata, why are you yelling—" His words died in his throat as he took in the sight of (Y/N) and Tsukishima, still standing too close, cheeks flushed from the kiss.

"Oh," Yamaguchi said, a grin spreading across his face. "Ohhhh."

"Tsukishima!" Hinata’s voice was full of glee, as if he had just stumbled upon the best gossip of his life. "You were kissing (Y/N)!" His tone was incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just seen.

"I knew something was up!" Hinata continued, practically bouncing in place with excitement. " I never thought I'd see the day!"

Tsukishima pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the heat rise to his face. "Shut up, Hinata."

But Hinata was on a roll. "Kissing in the hallway, huh? That’s so unlike you, Tsukki!" He paused dramatically, eyes widening even further. "Wait—are you dating?!" Hinata gasped, then leaned forward with a mischievous grin. "So, how long has this been going on, huh? How many secret kisses? How many dates? Tell me everything!"

Tsukishima, already at his limit, glared at Hinata with a deadly expression, his lips pressed into a tight line. "If you don’t shut up in the next three seconds, I’m going to kill you."

But Hinata, fearless as ever, just grinned wider. "You’re in love, Tsukishima! Admit it! You’re all soft now!"

Yamaguchi snickered, clearly enjoying the sight of his usually stoic best friend looking so flustered. Hinata, sensing he had pushed enough buttons for one day, held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! I’ll stop! But seriously, this is amazing! I can’t wait to tell Kageyama!"

"Don’t you dare," Tsukishima growled, his voice dangerous low, glaring at the orange-haired ball of energy. But as much as he wanted to snap, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips when he looked down at (Y/N).

He rolled his eyes, squeezing (Y/N)'s arm as he walked past her, heading towards the club room. "Wait here, I'll walk you home."

Hinata, ever the observant one when it came to emotions, pointed dramatically at Tsukishima. "See! He’s smiling! He likes this! He’s totally in love!

"Hinata, shut the hell up."

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

update: hey reddit, I looked at all your comments and decided to talk things with her which was great. Made her my girlfriend and had our first date yesterday, it was great and I think she enjoyed it a lot. Thanks for all your advice.

[naeverse]

Tangled in his Webs

Art generated by: Niji • Journey Request from: @migueloharacumslut Ask: And I have a request I forgot rather I submitted or not. Mad scientist Miguel x therapist reader Miguel gets put in a psych ward because he got caught experimenting on people and himself trying to turned them in to spider people. He’s been in the psych ward for five years and he needs to be cleared to go back in the world. That’s where the reader comes in to clear him only he manipulates her into thinking he is sane. During their session Miguel becomes obsessed with the reader and little does he know she is obsessed with him too. At night she touched herself to the thought of him. When Miguel get out he finds her. Make the sex nastyyy, hard and rough little choking wouldn’t hurt either. Please and thank you ! 😊 A/N: I really loved this idea and enjoyed writing Scientist Miguel so much. Might write him more lol, but thank you @migueloharacumslut for the idea. Also this is the first part and a second one will be following this one, hope you enjoy!

💉staring: Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Therapist Reader

      🩵preview:  “I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” 

🔬summary:  As an evaluation therapist at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing, you are assigned a new patient—one who is complex, captivating, and dangerously drawing you in more than you ever expected.

⚗️tw/cw (Just for this part): Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Fingering, Masturbation, Psychopathy, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Restraints

🔭Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear)

     🩵Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥼Word Count: 7.7k 

**This fanfiction is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life individuals or events is purely coincidental. It does not intend to diagnose or represent any real mental health conditions. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning. You felt a dull ache and soreness in your throat, accompanied by a pervasive feeling of weakness throughout your body. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead and adjusting to the suffocating sterile scent of antiseptic, you noticed that you were lying on your back against a hard, cold surface.

With furrowed eyebrows, you attempted to sit up, only to be thwarted back by the metal restraints tightly bound around your wrists and ankles.

‘What the heck!?’ 

You thought, panic and fear beginning to grip you. Your eyes darted down to discover yourself clad only in your undergarments—a delicate white, laced satin set—leaving you exposed to the chilling breeze that consistently swept through the well-lit space.

You couldn't remember how you got here; your groggy mind unable to piece together the events that led to your presence upon the metal table. The faint hum of machinery echoed from far away, punctuated by distant murmurs that made your heart drop.

With dazed eyes, you looked around your surroundings to be met with the overbearing shade of a bright white that covered the walls of what looked to be a lab of some sorts. Countertops were lined with an array of perfectly arranged scientific instruments, machines, and beakers.

Shelves held neatly labeled containers, each housing an assortment of chemicals and biological specimens. Despite being well-lit, there were little to no windows present, intensifying the feeling of isolation within the controlled environment. 

The place seemed devoid of humanity, replaced by a location where experimentation and analysis were handled freely without compassion or warmth.

But one thing about the lab really stood out to you: two jars sitting upon the shelves—one full of bloody red eyes and the other with abnormally sharp canines.

The sight almost made you vomit, hastily turning to look away. Your heart and breath were picking up, fear clawing at your being. Although how morbid the otherworldly body parts were, they triggered something in your head.

The more you thought upon it, awareness seeped in like an unwelcome guest; slowly, you began to remember.

The mental facility...

Red eyes...

The flowers...

Sharp canines...

Black glasses...

His release...

Him.

The wine...

Then darkness...

The memories came rushing back so quickly that you weren’t able to keep up, until it all came back to...

Him...

A wave of regret and stupidity overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you felt so worthless.

You should have known...

You should have fucking known...

‘He wasn’t well. He wasn’t fine. You were wrong, so wrong-’

“Good… You are awake.”

The bone-chilling voice of your captor filled the room, sending a familiar chill down your back. With trembling lips, you turned your head to see the backside of a massive male entering the room. His coffee-brown locks styled neatly upon his head, a white lab coat adorning his huge build along with black dress pants and oxfords.

The scientist wore clean attire, perfect for working in the lab, but his outfit was beyond your concern. 

You knew who he was, but you didn’t want to believe it.

You gulped, watching him slap on a pair of white latex gloves upon his large, calloused palms before beginning to inspect the scientific tools that sat upon the nearby counter.

"And here I thought you would have been excited to see me again..." he said in a husky voice, responding to your silence—his Latino accent unmistakable, along with a hint of amusement found in his tone. You felt like an idiot for falling for him, for becoming so fascinated with a madman like him...

But you were still in denial.

You weren’t going to believe it was him until you saw his face...

“T-T-Turn around…” You said hoarsely, the pain in your throat distant underneath the layers of fear and anxiety coursing through your body. At your demand, the large scientist laughed. “Turn around?” He asked slowly, silence following his inquiry, making your body run cold.

Suddenly, he spun around, slamming his palms onto the metal table you laid upon. The abruptness and loud noise made you jump, and a gasp erupted from your lips. His eyes stared directly into yours, holding the same madness that you believed he had cured when you initially met him. But, like before, it wasn’t the insanity in his gaze that made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach...

It was his eyes... 

His teeth...

The scientist’s crimson eyes looked down at you, taking in your discolored skin and half-lidded eyes that were still under a drowsy spell. “I turned around now, are you happy?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Do you recognize me now, dear?” 

Your eyes widened, the look upon your face enough to show the mad scientist that you did, in fact, remember who he was— but you were too speechless to respond, causing the male to chuckle.

“Do I need to give you any more proof that it is I?”

His snickering seemed to reverberate off the walls of your mind as the fluorescent lights of his lab bounced off his razor sharp canines.

With trembling lips and dilated pupils, you looked over his face, your heart breaking more and more because…

It was, indeed, him...

The mad scientist... 

The sexy patient... 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara…

The man you fell for…

White, close-toed wedges clicked upon the mental facility's aged linoleum tiles, the floor's once-bright patterns now a faded, discolored mosaic covered with scuff marks and indistinct stains that revealed the struggles of all who shuffled through the dimly lit corridor. The mental facility, unintentionally, gave off an eerie atmosphere with walls clad in faded, peeling paint and ceilings with bright, flickering fluorescent lights that cast irregular shadows along the cold institutional floor, further giving anyone who traversed the halls the creeps.

You, a therapist meant to evaluate patients for release, were given a new challenge—a patient that held a sadistic background coupled with a remarkable intellect that made many wonders how he found himself inside 'Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing.'

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was your new patient's name, an intelligent scientist who became a little twisted after his discovery of gene splicing. In his pursuit of advancing the human race, he became obsessed with the idea and creation of spider-human hybrids. After many experimentations of creating what is referred to as mutates, he was unsuccessful. Before he could continue with his study, he was arrested and sentenced to seven years here at the institution where it seems he’d made progress.

Whilst you walked towards his cell, taking the seemingly endless halls of the asylum, you looked over his file. Inside were documents containing his personal information, such as full name, date of birth, emergency contact, and next of kin. In the brown folder were also his medical history, psychiatric assessment, diagnostic evaluations, and much more information collected during his time at the institution; however, there were four pieces of his folder that piqued your interest:

Observation logs, Treatment plan, Risk assessment, and lastly, incident reports.

You studied each of the documents to discover the important details that needed to be surveyed before seeing the scientist in person.

_____________________________________ 

Miguel O’Hara - Mental Health File

Patient Information:

Full name: Miguel O’Hara

Date of Birth: 10/13/2070

Appointed into: Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing

Admission Date: 11/10/2099

Emergency Contact: N/A

Next Of Kin: N/A

**The patient has explicitly communicated a desire for their next of kin not to be associated with their mental health treatment, and no detailed information about family members was recorded to respect the patient’s privacy.**

Diagnosis:

Primary Diagnosis: Psychopathy

Secondary Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

Treatment Team:

Primary Therapist: Dr. Jessica Owens, Licensed Clinical Psychologist

Psychiatrist: Dr. Peter B. Parker, MD

Nursing Staff: Nurse Mary Jane Watson, RN

_____________________________________ 

Treatment Plan: 

Medications 

Fluoxetine (Prozac) 

Dosage: 20 mg daily

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is prescribed Fluoxetine to address symptoms of irritability that derives from his disorder of Antisocial Personality. 

Lorazepam (Ativan)

Dosage: 0.5 mg as needed (PRN) for anxiety

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is given Lorazepam on an as-needed basis to manage anxiety-related symptoms or impulsivity.

**Its used closely monitored due to the risk of misuse**

Lamotrigine (Lamictal) 

Dosage: Gradual titration starting at 25 mg, with adjustments based on response. 

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara’s treatment plan included Lamotrigine to help stabilize mood swings or emotional dysregulation. 

_____________________________________ 

Incident reports 

Date: 2/3/2100

Incident: Verbal altercation with another patient during group therapy 

Action Taken: Immediate de-escalation and one-on-one session with Dr. Peter B. Parker. 

Date: 6/21/2100

Incident: Refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education 

Date: 10/3/2100

Incident: Refused to attend scheduled group therapy and became verbally aggressive towards staff members

Action Taken: Security staff was called to ensure the safety of other patients and staff. Miguel was later engaged in a one-on-one session to explore the reasons behind his resistance to group participation. 

Date: 1/4/2101

Incident: 2nd occurence of refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education and therapeutic engagement by Dr. Jessica Owens to address any fears or misconceptions related to his prescribed medications. 

Date: 4/18/2101

Incident: Observed by Nurse Mary Jane Watson of the patient hoarding various items in his room, including non-permissible objects. 

Action taken: Staff conducted a room check, confiscated unauthorized items, and discussed appropriate belongings with Miguel. A follow-up session with his therapist, Dr. Jessica Owens was scheduled to explore any underlying concern. 

Date: 3/21/2102

Incident:  Engaged in a physical altercation with another patient during a recreational activity 

Action taken: Immediate intervention by staff to separate the individuals involved. Both parties were assessed for injuries, and a report was filed. Increased monitoring and a review of Miguel’s treatment plan were conducted to address potential triggers for aggressive behavior

_____________________________________

Risk Assessments: 

Current Risk level: Moderate 

Factors: History of aggression, resistance to treatment, potential for manipulative behavior 

Interventions: Increased monitoring, ongoing assessment for potential triggers 

_____________________________________

Observation Logs: 

Date/Time: 8/16/2102, 2:30 PM

Observation: Miguel exhibited signs of increased irritability during the group mindfulness session. Requested to leave the session prematurely. 

Staff comments: Noted Miguel’s discomfort during mindfulness exercises. Alternative relaxation techniques were explored for future sessions. 

Date/Time: 12/2/2103, 10:00 AM

Observation: Miguel was observed engaging in a one-on-one conversation with staff during morning indoor activities. Discussed personal interests and aspirations. 

Staff comments: Encouraged Miguel’s open communication. Noted his ability to articulate personal interest, fostering a sense of connection with staff. 

Date/Time: 2/15/2104, 6:45 PM 

Observations: Spends most of his time in the facility’s library, engrossed in reading.

Staff Comments: Positive use of leisure time observed. Reading contributed to a sense of routine and engagement. 

Date/Time: 6/23/2104, 8:30 PM 

Observations: Attended the evening group therapy, contributing to discussions on coping strategies. Demonstrated empathy towards a fellow patient sharing personal challenges.

Staff Comments: Noted Miguel’s willingness to engage in group discussions and support peers. Positive progress in developing empathy and interpersonal skills. 

**Miguel O’Hara has exhibited excellent improvement and staff believes he can be released in 2105, instead of 2107.**

_____________________________________

You closed his folder, taking a look at the photo that decorated the front. Like many patients at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing (NYS-MH), Miguel O’Hara didn’t look like a dangerous individual; he was actually quite handsome—with dark, wavy locks that framed his olive, chiseled face and amber eyes shielded by a pair of black eyeglasses; Dr. O’Hara wasn’t a bad-looking guy.

To ponder upon the atrocities, he could have committed for the sake of science was baffling as you gazed at the photo. The more you inspected the image, the happier you became at the fact he was doing better - better enough to be released back into society.

It was why you were here, anyway…

You tucked the folder under your arm and continued your walk towards his room, passing steel doors that lined the corridor, each secured with heavy bolts and reinforced locks to keep the patients contained and prevent them from harming themselves or others. Occasionally, muffled echoes of distant cries and disjointed whispers seeped through the cracks, adding to the unsettling symphony of the troubled minds that dwelled within.

You've walked these halls many times, but there was something about today that really made your skin crawl. So, it was relieving when you finally found Miguel O’Hara’s room, number 209.

Two guards stood on either side of his door, present only for emergencies. With a deep breath and slight adjustments to the white top, black blazer, and bodycon skirt that covered you, you gave each of them a nod and unlocked his door with a key, entering Miguel’s room…

Upon stepping inside, you instantly took notice of the soft, muted tones of blues and greens dominating the color palette, bringing a sense of serenity to the room. The patient's sleeping area contained the normal necessities—a comfortable bed with crisp, clean linens and a modest seating area. The furniture was arranged in an open and uncluttered manner, with personal touches here and there by the patient himself or for safety precautions. 

For his adoration for reading and science, a small shelf was placed inside his room, displaying a few books and a potted plant, offering familiarity to the scientist.

Your eyes shifted to the large, muscular male who sat upon his bed, dressed in a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and slip-on shoes. His massive backside faced you as it seemed he was engrossed in writing, his huge hand moving gracefully upon the page he was working on.

You cast a glance at the camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling in his room, placed there for monitoring and to ensure the patient, and others remain safe. After making sure the camera blinks red twice, showing its activity, you approach him with light steps.

"Miguel O’Hara?" you called out to him in a soft voice, not wishing to disrupt him. All of his movements came to a halt, his body rigid as his large hand placed the pen he was using into the open journal before slowly closing it. You watched him set the book down beside him on the bed, wondering if the handsome male you saw on the photo would be the same seated before you.

It seemed you were watching with batted breath for him to turn around and when he did, the sight of him shocked you and made your heart skip a beat.

You knew from his photo, the male would be gorgeous—so attractive that if he weren't your patient, you'd probably gush over him from afar. But it wasn't his attractiveness that made your breath hitch.

He looked completely different.

He looked…

Otherworldly.

With a cold expression, you stared back at a pair of crimson eyes covered with black eyeglasses, a small smile spreading across his tanned lips, revealing a set of sharp canines. “You must be the therapist that is to evaluate me. Right, Querida?” He inquired with a hum, his deep voice holding a Latino accent. 

You gulped at the intensity of his abnormal scarlet orbs, subconsciously clenching his brown folder in your hands and giving him a nod. “Y-Yes, I am,” you replied, stepping back to give the large male room to stand, and when he did…

He was like a giant…

The bed creaked at his ascent as his massive being towered over you, your head tilting up to maintain eye contact. Choking back how intimidated you were, you gestured over to the small seating area of two white cushioned chairs and a table in the corner of his room. “L-Let’s sit over here to talk,” you proposed, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing down at you like a mere ant before his tight-lipped smile returned.

With an approving grunt, he stepped in front of you; with his powerful, long legs, it took him little to no time to reach the comfort area and settle down into the white chair, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. You followed behind him, moving to sit across from your new patient and shifting into a comfortable position.

When your eyes met the male's, his crimson eyes were already staring at you, lingering upon your body in a way that made you feel like a microbe under a telescope. You gave him a polite smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling that always rose within you when speaking with the patients. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. My name is Dr. Y/LN, and as you’ve been informed, I am the therapist here to evaluate you for your release.” You explained sweetly, watching every part of the patient, who remained completely motionless, simply continuing to stare back at you with an expression devoid of all emotion.

“It’s nice to see a new face, doctor. It can get rather boring here,” he uttered, using his middle finger to push his black eyeglasses up the bridge of his broad nose.

You placed his folder down upon the table, turning it to not reveal his photo on the front; you've learned from past experiences that the sight tended to worry them. Bringing your legs to cross over each other, you clasped your hands, placing them on your lap. “Boring?” you asked with furrowed brows. “Why don’t we speak about your time here first, Dr. O’Hara? Is that okay with you?” The inquiry left your lips in a soothing tone, one that calmed most patients upon hearing it; but with this patient, you couldn’t quite tell—he hid his emotions too well.

“Well, maybe not boring…repetitive is a better word,” he corrected himself. “But, dear, I’m fine with speaking of my time here.” He replied with a smile, placing his hands upon the armrests and widening his stance. Your eyes drifted to run along his inviting toned thighs adorned by a pair of gray sweatpants that did little to conceal the curves of the muscles underneath. 

You also took notice of his posture; taking a mental note of openness from the patient before you asked your question, “Well then, may I ask how you are doing during morning activities? It's stated that you prefer Creative Arts Therapy in the mornings, correct?”

He nodded, his sharp canines peeking out from between his lips as he spoke. “Indeed, mostly during Creative Arts Therapy, I write,” he explained in a deep voice. “I’ve grown to learn that to better settle my thoughts is to put them on paper.”

“And that is an excellent form of therapy that you’ve discovered for yourself, Dr. O’Hara. May I ask, what exactly do you write?” You asked, trying to ignore the faint sight of madness in his crimson orbs. “I write down my thoughts, ideas, and aspirations,” he simply said. 

You hummed, giving him a smile. “How about future plans? Do you write about those?” At your question, he snickered, giving you a wry, dismissive head shake. “I…don’t write much on that,” he replied. “I’ll hate to get my hopes up,” he added in an amused, yet somewhat disheartened tone.

“Get your hopes up?” you inquired, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “May you elaborate, Dr. O’Hara?” The male nodded, his large fingers stroking the armrest of his chair in a deep caress. “I do not wish to anticipate that I will be released early,” his caresses of the chair never ceasing, and his eyes trained on his moving fingers.

You studied him, taking in his deflated voice and how he spoke in a slow manner. Your gaze shifted to take in the intricate motion his fingers moved upon the armrest as there were multiple reasons a patient would do such a thing.

He could be nervous, frustrated, impatient, or simply doing it to comfort himself. Recalling his mannerisms from previously, you could cross out your thought of him being nervous; the way the scientist carried himself was in a way of confidence that couldn’t be faked, so it left you with the last three—frustration, impatience, or comfort.

Without further observation, you couldn’t pinpoint his reasoning for his odd gesture, instead giving him a soft grin and replying to his previous words of anticipation. “I understand your concerns about getting your hopes up, especially considering that you were rewarded with an early release date based on your wonderful behavior as of late,” you sympathized, “So it’s completely normal to feel cautious about expectations,” you said, taking in the abnormally muscular male before you. 

“But let’s explore these feelings, shall we? Let’s say you are released in the next two weeks; what would your life look like, Dr. O’Hara?” you asked, deeply intrigued by his answer.

A moment of silence filled the room after your inquiry, the doctor continuing to make intricate patterns upon the armrest with his finger before his red eyes returned back to you. A nervous chuckle rumbled from his chest—the sound restoring life back into the room. “Ahh, I always get stumped on that question. It's another reason I haven’t written much about it in my journal.”

You nodded, placing your hands upon your legs. “Well, let’s start small,” you proposed with a grin. “You seem to have taken a liking to the hobby of writing while staying here at NYS-MH. Would you like to expand on that?” Miguel gave you a thoughtful hum, his pointer finger continuing to glide against the armrest of his chair. 

“I’ve…always wanted to write a book.” Your eyes snapped from his fingers to rest upon his chiseled face, surprise and amazement present upon your facial features at his desire. “Oh really? And what would that book be about?”

“Genetics, of course.” He chuckled, the mention of his past interest that caused his descent into madness making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes narrowed, the amazement fading from your being. You leaned back into your chair, keeping your composure.

“Are you still interested in Genetics, Dr. O’Hara?” Your inquiry being met with a nod from the patient, one that he didn’t hesitate on responding with. “I’ve worked in the field for almost my entire life and I’m exceptionally good at it.” He explained with a voice of knowledge in a low, deep whisper. “So why would I abandon my hard-earned skills and education?” 

His reasoning on his maintained attachment to the field was an excellent one, but like many things, it could be a trigger; causing the once cured doctor to revert back to his old ways of sadism and horrendous acts for the sake of science. This potential trigger would not only bring harm to everyone once more but erase the hard work that Miguel had achieved at the mental institution to fix. 

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I…understand your desire to write a book about Genetics. It’s an intriguing subject.” You said, preparing yourself to ask a question that would surely strike the doctor. “But considering the circumstance of your past experiments and the impact they had, how do you plan to approach the topic responsibly?” You asked, watching his reaction closely in anticipation. 

After your question it seemed as if everything stopped—froze even… 

You gazed at Miguel taking in his tanned face that stared back at you. His crimson eyes were empty behind his black frames and his posture was completely still in his seat. 

You’ll think he was a statue…

“Dr. O’Hara?” You called out to him which seemed to snap him from his thoughts. His red eyes slowly shifted to you, his tanned lips pulling into a small smile. 

“Responsibility, my dear therapist, is such a heavy word…” He said with a smirk. “But I wish to ask, what compelled you to work with the mental? It’s a challenging profession for those with weaker minds.” Miguel said, casting an odd aura upon the room with his every word. “I should know…many say they are for the discovery of science and when the time presents itself, they get cold feet.” He stated, his finger ceasing its movement upon the armrest. 

It wasn't unusual for a patient to desire to ask you a question, but the way he gazed at you with his intense eyes and how his gravelly voice caused a shiver to run down your spine made you hesitant, which the patient seemed to have noticed. “I only ask since you handle your job so beautifully.” He complimented, his eyes taking in your seated position. “I only wish to know what led you here before me.” The words left the patient’s lips in an ominous manner, however, upon saying such a thing his olive face held a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

His fanged grin, oddly, sent a wave of warmth through your being and caused you to forget your reply to his question. You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your composure and recall your departed answer. “W-well, I…umm… entered this field by the simple fact of being interested in psychology a-and the way the mind works.” You replied once you found the words, unable to hide the stammering of your voice due to how unnerving everything was becoming. Miguel nodded slowly, running his tongue along the tip of his fang, the action drawing your attention. 

“Your interest in the subject of the mind is rather…fascinating.” Abruptly, he leaned up in his seat, resting his elbows upon his knees and invading your personal space. Your heart skipped a beat at his suddenness and at being able to see just how abnormal and captivating his scarlet eyes and sharp fangs were; it caused goosebumps to rise upon your skin at the mere sight. 

“I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” He grinned, the fluorescent lights of his room bouncing off his sharp fangs as his eyes were filled with a hint of amusement, though it was impossible to ignore how it seemed he was toying with you. 

“I…see individuals, like you, as people who have become lost in the darkness and just need assistance in finding the light once more.” You stated, his eyebrow raising and a chuckle escaping him at your answer. “A bold claim…” He said, his eyes tracing your figure and lingering upon how tightly you were now grasping your skirt.  

“For a little thing like you…” 

Miguel muttered imperceptibly that you almost didn't hear him. “E-Excuse me?” You asked in shock and with furrowed eyebrows causing the patient to snicker, shaking his head. “Just that your view is a unique way of thinking and a…intriguing one, in fact.” He said, leaning back in his chair and adopting a relaxed position once more. 

“It’s really fascinating how intellectual you are, doctor.” He grinned. “Few possess the ability to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts of the mental. I applaud you on that.” Miguel praised, returning back to running his palm along the white armrest whilst giving you his undivided attention. 

In your gut, you knew his recalling of the statement said previously was false, you were certain he said something that was out of the norm. 

But could you have mistaken? 

You took in his face, taking note of how he gazed at you. The scientist was attractive, and normally during your job you were able to ignore that appealing quality and complete the task at hand, but right now, it seems impossible. 

The way his red eyes ran along your body like he was undressing you, made you blush. You couldn’t explain it, but you were stuck between your desires and your sense of reason. 

You were aware of Miguel’s sadistic mannerisms and how there could be a chance he wasn’t fully well as he lets on, it was why you were here, but the longer you spoke with him, the more the task at hand was leaving you. 

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he gave you at times. 

“M-May I ask how have you been feeling lately? Any changes?” You asked, changing the topic and settling your eyes upon Miguel once more to see him smirking. “It’s all been the same, doctor.” He began. “We have group therapies on Wednesday, daily morning activities and indoor activities…” He said, wetting his lips with the swipe of his tongue, the sight causing the tips of your ears to burn red. 

Sometime while he was speaking, you shamefully zoned out to taking in how sexy he looked. 

His white shirt tightly hugged his body, giving one a view of his hardened nipples, defined pecs, and washboard abs. Every curve of muscle was accentuated under the white fabric that teased anyone who saw. The muscles of his legs pressed against his gray sweatpants, and your eyes widened slightly at being able to make out the enormity that rested against his thigh.  The sight causing you to bite your lip…

“Querida?” 

The sexy patient called out to you, snapping you from your trance. “Y-Yes!?” You inquired, clearing your throat and taking a more assertive and relaxed position to try and dismiss your previous lack of professionalism. Miguel snickered. “It seemed you were off somewhere else…and here I thought that was my job.” He joked, causing you to chuckle nervously. 

“M-My apologies. You may continue.” You replied, wishing to proceed as if none of that happened. Miguel smirked, his crimson eyes roaming along your body before his finger began to tap upon the armrest.

“In my leisure, I write in my journal, read, or tend to my plant.” He finished, keeping it short and gesturing to the bookshelf in the room that held a pot of beautiful flowers. You smiled seeing how the black flowers bloomed upon the shelf. 

“May I ask, what is it that you write in your journal?” You asked, looking back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ethical if I asked what you write in your diary, would it, doctor?” He inquired, causing you to instantly become regretful of your words. You casted him an apologetic look. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“No…it’s fine. Your fascination is interesting…” He trailed off, a tap of his finger following your words. You glanced back over at his plant once more, the flower really captivating you. “The plant is family to the Calla Lilies.” Miguel answered before you could even ask, looking over at you as you continued to inspect the plant from your seat. “Hmm…I’ve never seen a plant like this.” 

“Because this plant, in particular, is very rare.” He explained. “Native to South Africa, Escape, is a very rare find.” Miguel said with a fanged grin. “It’s why I made it mandatory that it was brought with me when I was assigned at NYS-MH.” 

You stared in awe at the abnormally black flower. This was your first time seeing a plant of pitch blackness that hadn’t already withered away, but Miguel’s next words grabbed your attention. 

“But one day while tending to my flowers, I hit an…epiphany of sorts.”  Miguel told you, causing you to cock your head in puzzlement. 

His words intrigued you…

“May I ask what epiphany you reached, Dr. O’Hara?” At your question, Miguel gave you a look of appreciation and sincerity. “I understand that upon my arrival, I wasn’t…in the best state of mind.” He said with a sigh. “But after being here, I feel like I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” You asked, bringing a small smile to his lips. “I…believe I’m ready to see the world again.” He answered, giving you a genuine look of certainty. 

His realization filled you with gratification. You reached for his brown folder, believing he had, indeed, improved. The first major step for the patient was seeing that they were initially unwell, which the patient had achieved. 

“I’m greatly pleased with your recognition of this epiphany of yours, Dr. O’Hara.” You said, holding his folder in your hands. “But I believe you are ready to answer some more serious questions.” You said, glancing up at him. “Are you ready?” You asked, seeking permission of his state of mind before proceeding. 

With a nod from Miguel, you opened his folder, pulling out a few of his documents to begin asking more serious questions regarding them. “I’ve noticed in your next of kin that you asked for them to not be aware of your mental treatment.” You began, looking up at Miguel to see him already gazing back at you, his crimson orbs trained on you. The sight made your heart flutter. “M-May I ask how you would cope on the outside without your familial relations knowing of t-the treatments and necessary tools you've learned whilst being here?” At your inquiry, Miguel’s face hardened, his crimson eyes darkening.

“Well, you see, my dear therapist, family can be a bit…overwhelming.” He uttered, tapping his finger against the armrest once more like a metronome; his eye contact never breaking. “I’ve decided to take a more independent route for now.” He explained in a deep, slow voice. “But friends, colleagues—people who don't burden me with unnecessary questions about the past are who I seek.” He said, his voice holding a hint of coldness as his jaw clenched. 

“Because, it’s important to focus on the present and the future, rather than the past, don’t you think…

Doctor?” 

You gulped, his words seeming to have you in a vice. It was as if he had some kind of control over you, all of the rules and regulations you learned whilst being an evaluation therapist at NYS-MH faded from your mind. You couldn’t figure out what you found so enticing about him. 

Was it the way he looked or behaved? How he seemed to speak with such intellect in a tone of voice that could lull one to sleep?   

You were puzzled…

But you were certain something was happening, and it was greatly affecting you and your ability to think clearly. 

You hesitantly nodded, clenching his folder and feeling your cheeks redden once again.  “T-That is correct.” You agreed, not believing what you were saying. “I would understand your desire to look past your previous mistakes and move forward.” You uttered, trying to keep your attention on the patient. 

“Indeed…Mistakes.” He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips, his finger seeming to tap against the armchair after your words. Your eyes looked from his hand and to his face, studying how his coffee-brown locks blowned gently in the breeze from the vent overhead, and to his defined cheekbones and broad nose that made him even more captivating… 

 “Have any more questions for me, doctor?” 

You jumped at his inqury, noticing you were just staring at him. 

What the hell was wrong with you?!

A little disheveled, you fumbled through the folder for the next pages of information you sought, picking up his documents on his treatment plan of medications and his incident reports. “Umm…I-I wanted to ask about your medications.” You began, wetting your lips and holding the papers up to hide behind them. “T-There were two occurrences where you refused to take your medication. M-may I ask why you refused?” You asked, peeking around the paper to see the patient adjust his black eyeglasses upon his face along with the repeated thudding of his finger upon the chair. 

“I must ask, how would you feel if someone took away your identity?” 

“W-what?!” You asked in surprise, lowering the pages hastily. A laugh rumbled from his broad chest, giving you a clear view of his otherworldly fangs that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. “You heard me, doctor.” He stated in a manner that was to be amusing but only made one disturbed. 

“What if someone was trying to force you to be someone else? Someone you are not?” He asked, causing you to chew your inner cheek and ponder his question. “I…I guess I wouldn’t like that.” 

“Indeed…” He replied. “Any creature would despise the fact of forced transformation of oneself. It’s the reason you cannot simply change a savage tiger to being a tamed kitten in your home.” The dark-haired male explained. “It’s because a tiger would always cling to its savage ways, it's what keeps them alive—it’s what they enjoy.”  

“That’s…a great analogy, Dr. O’Hara.” 

“Why thank you, dear.” Miguel replied with a smirk before his old expression shifted to hold furrowed eyebrows and a frown—a set of facial features that instantly tugged at your heart. “But…the true reason I refused my medication was because…” He heaved a deep sigh, biting his lip. “The depressants make me sleepy and tired all the time, and…the idea of having to depend on medicine to stabilize my irritability and emotions is rather disheartening to me.” He said in a sorrowful voice. “I refused them because I believe I can be better without them.” 

You listened closely to his words, taking note of his concerns and feeling rather empathetic. “In all honesty, how would you explain your current mental health condition?” You asked, placing your compassionate eyes upon him. 

He gave you a heartfelt smile, one that made your heart soar. “Like I said previously, I feel better, Doctor.” Miguel said in genuinely. “I’ve seen the errors in my ways and am deeply disgusted by what I’ve done to innocent individuals…t-too myself.” He said, looking away at the ground in shame. 

“I wish to return back into society and start anew.” He replied. “Be the man that I’ve wanted to be—not some madman who allowed his idea to get too out of hand that led to the deaths of innocence.” Miguel professed to you with an emotional and hearty voice. 

You nodded slowly as you noticed his scarlet eyes flicker down to your hands that held the brown folder. “Doctor…

May I?” 

Dr. O’Hara asked, extending his large, calloused hand to you, seeking your palm. Your eyes widened, thickly gulping and looking back up to meet his red orbs that seemed to suck you in—enticing you to take it. 

Physical connection with patients were strictly forbidden, but the sadden look of desperation upon his face led you to take his hand. You placed the brown folder upon the table before resting your hand in his large palm, and instantly yours looked to have shrunken in size. With a fluttering heart and belly, you met his eyes and instantly melted under his crimson eyes. 

“Please, Cariño. I assure you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”  

The patient affirmed, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze, following his heartfelt promise. Your breath caught in your throat at his genuine gaze and words. 

From his evaluation, you couldn’t help but agree that he was ready…

He didn’t utter a word of sadism or show signs of insanity, revealing his first diagnosis of Psychopathy was treated or can be suppressed. He exhibited signs of sympathy for his victims, and also didn’t become angry at triggering questions, displaying that his second diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder was also cured or treated. 

Like he said…

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was ready. 

You gave him a small smile, placing your free hand atop of his as Miguel’s eyes shifted down to your kind gesture and back onto your face. “Okay…I believe you.” You said, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’ll be sure to send in your evaluation report that you are good to go.” You told him, but as an evaluation therapist you weren’t supposed to say, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. 

Giving him a departed smile, you released his hands and collected your things. His touch still burned into your skin and left you yearning for more of him. 

You felt his abnormal eyes on you as you went to the door. Suddenly, upon putting your hand on the doorknob, a cold shiver ran down your back—one that instantly made you come to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unsettling sensation, causing you to bite your lip in nervousness.

“And Miguel…” You called out to him, using his name and looking over your shoulder at the dark-haired male. His tanned, chiseled face held an expression of hidden joy and interest as he turned towards you, his attention captured by your call whilst he remained seated in his chair

You clenched the folder tightly, hastily shifting your gaze to meet his scarlet eyes—the previous feeling of discomfort and unease vanishing.

“I-I hope you keep your word.” You said in a voice full of reverence. Miguel returned your words with a reassuring smirk, his sharp canines poking from over his bottom lip. 

“You have my word, Doctor.  I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

After turning in Dr. Miguel O'Hara’s evaluation report and going home, the scientist was still on your mind.

The way the doctor looked at you with his beautiful red eyes from behind his black spectacles, with a gaze of interest, to the fanged smiles and smirks he gave you—merely thinking about it made your cheeks redden.

You bit your lip, feeling a need to cure this desire for him, but you decided to push it away. You couldn’t feel this way about him…

You couldn’t…

…

..

But you did…

Extremely…

You lay under the blankets of your bed, tossing and turning as every time you closed your eyes to sleep, he would fill your mind. 

Especially the glimpse you got of his package. 

How his massive member was accentuated underneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, revealing how thick and long he was. 

The remembrance made you drool… 

It had been forever since you’d touched yourself. Being a therapist at a mental facility was a rather time-consuming job, and you weren’t really interested in the many men who tried to get your attention.

Until him… 

Why did it have to be him of all people? 

It was a guilty pleasure, that was for sure—to have fallen so hard for this doctor, your patient who had many wounds that still needed healing.

But oddly, his wounds only pulled you in even more…

You bit your lip, allowing your hands to begin roaming along your body, imagining they were his calloused ones—remembering how his large hands practically engulfed yours when holding his hand, and how rough they felt.

Oh, how good it would feel if they were the ones touching you. 

Giving your clothed breasts a squeeze through your shirt, you moaned softly. Despite his past of being sadistic and cruel to others, you imagined him being gentle with you—caressing your body and touching you in a way that stole your breath every time. You arched your back as your thumb barely flicked over your pebbled nipples, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Your panties were heavily drenched in your juices due to your core's insistent pleas for stimulation and touch. Finally satisfying yourself, with a sharp tug, you pulled your panties down, freeing your pulsating pussy. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, hastily getting into a comfortable position on your back and allowing your legs to fall apart. With closed eyes, you allowed thoughts of Dr. O'Hara to guide your movements. 

His massive hand ran along your abdomen, teasing you with his skilled fingertips and trailing lower. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers brushed softly along your throbbing bud and soppy folds, spreading your juices along the sensitive area.

You imagined Dr. O'Hara above you, his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smirked down at you, pressing his large middle finger into your entrance. You moaned, feeling his finger filling your tight walls. 

Whimpers escaped your lips at how good his finger felt inside of you, your back arching in desire for more of him. His smirk broadened at your eagerness, as he slowly drew his finger out to the tip before pushing back in, quickly finding a rhythm and keeping at it with each thrust.

Your toes curled, burying your face in your inner elbow as you continued to finger your wet pussy, wishing Dr. O'Hara was here, but imagining would have to do. It wasnt long before a heat began to pool in your lower belly, your breathing picking up. 

"Taking my fingers so well, dear," Dr. O'Hara whispered into your ear, gently nipping along your lobe and throat, his fangs grazing your skin. You whined into your arm, his fingers picking up speed and hooking just right inside your pussy, bringing you to your blissful end. 

With a loud cry, your thighs trembled horribly as your juices spilled in hot spurts, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath. 

Your eyes fluttered close, trying to overcome the buzz that overwhelmed your body after your release. It took a moment, but when you caught your breath and your vision settled, you withdrew your fingers from your pussy, casting your eyes upon them to see that they, not Dr. O'Hara's, were covered in your juices. You exhaled in disappointment. 

Despite how good it felt imagining it was him, you couldn't help wanting Dr. O'Hara in the physical…

"I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?" 

As you lay there, still tinglinh from your pleasurable moment, his words filled your head, leaving you to ponder his question once more. 

Did you believe him to be a puzzle that only you could solve? In the moment, you said no, but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to thoroughly fix him.

Like many patients upon being released, they still faced numerous challenges, including reentering society, finding a job, and avoiding triggers, after departing from NYS-MH.

He was going to need help, and with all your heart, you wanted to be there for him. 

And you were going to. 

No matter what…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of 'Tangled in his Webs.' 😆I really enjoyed writing Miguel in this persona as it was different and honestly fun, especially with him being a darker character. It was rather new for me writing in this manner, despite some challenges here and there, I'm overall proud of the outcome and I hope you are too!

@migueloharacumslut, thanks so much for the request, and I hope you are even more happier that it's to be more than one part, lol. But once again, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 💙💙

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[amethystwrytes]

Safe. (Part Three)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem. Reader x Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only.

Chapter WC: 5.5k

Read Part One and Part Two here.

~ PART THREE ~

“Okay, let’s look at the options,” Christopher starts hanging dress bags around the room. “I think this red would look really great with-,”

“No,” you say quickly. You would rather give blood until you pass out than play dress up for a night out that you’re dreading. 

“Oh-kay,” he blinks, then goes over to unzip the next bag, “This one is a lavender number, and I know it’s not Spring, but hear me out-,”

“No.” 

Christopher looks like his eye is about to start twitching and his lips move into a tight line, “Did you maybe have something in mind?” 

“Is there a black option?” you ask. Black feels appropriate. 

“Black option,” he claps his hands together and looks around at his bags, “Of course there’s a black option, there’s always a black option.” He runs across the room and unzips another bag, pulling out the skirt of a black satin gown with a slit that makes you blush from where you sit but you said black - and if you refuse this one, Chris might actually strangle you with the straps of a high heel. 

When you emerge from the closet Christophers eyes widen, “Holy shit,” he says. 

“Don’t start,” you roll your eyes, then turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror. You do have to admit that it fits perfectly, it looks as if it was custom made just for you. The slit in the front is dangerously high, and the neckline is dangerously low - it’s a dangerous dress, you think. Which feels even more appropriate for the evening, you want to be dangerous. 

“You look…phenomenal actually,” Chris smiles.

“Thanks,” you blush. 

“I don’t do hair and makeup, but Jisoo will be here around 5pm to doll you up, she works at the salon Minhos wife used to own, she’s very good,” Christopher says, lining up some shoe options. 

Your eyes widen and the very breath in your lungs seems to deflate, “Minho has a wife?”

Chris pauses for a moment and looks around the room as if you aren’t completely alone in the house. “He used to, she died - she was killed by one of Kims men when she was out visiting a friend. They saw the SUV and thought it was Minho.” 

“Fuck,” you cover your mouth with your hand, “I didn’t know that.” 

“Well you wouldn’t, it happened three years ago, and he never talks about it anymore. He was a complete mess for a long time, barely spoke, didn’t seem to give a fuck about the job anymore, none of us were sure if he was ever going to come around, a lot of the guards left and ran off to Kim of all fucking people. The ones who stayed were well rewarded when he finally started to put himself back together, but he doesn’t talk about it, he’s never been the same,” he shares. 

Could that be why he reacted to your rejection the way he did? Is there actually some vulnerable piece inside him that hurts? You think about this long after Christopher is gone, and while Jisoo the stranger does your hair and makeup. You try to laugh at her jokes, carry on a normal conversation with the first female you’ve interacted with in months, but still, you can’t stop yourself from picturing a grieving Minho, his heart slowly turning to cold stone, uncaring - and for the first time since you’ve known him, you feel sorry for him, and you care about him. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

From inside the car that’s dropping you off you see Minho, Seungmin and Hyunjin waiting in front of the Casino for you. Your stomach drops, and a mixture of excitement and dread overwhelm you. 

The car stops and Minho opens the door and offers you his hand as you get out, you try to keep it still so no one sees how shaky and nervous you are. 

“My God,” he looks you up and down, “You are stunning,” Minho traces your jawline with the tip of his finger. 

You shake your head, “Chris brought really beautiful dresses and Jisoo-,” 

“Nuh-uh,” Minho argues, “This is all you love, and you look amazing,” he smiles and offers you his arm. You take it, briefly making eye contact with Hyunjin, who isn’t even trying to hide the fact he’s staring at you. You clear your throat and brush imaginary wrinkles out of the satin. 

“You look pretty,” Seungmin says, looking anywhere but at you. 

Your eyes widen, “Sorry…is there an insult coming or did you actually just compliment me?” 

Seungmins eyes narrow, “Don’t push it…shut up,” he sneers before hurriedly skulking off into the casino. 

You’ve seen Minho’s Mirroh Casino lit up like a Christmas Tree towering over buildings on the edge of downtown for years - though you had no idea it belonged to him of course until you met him several months ago. You’d never stepped foot inside, in your previous life you didn’t really have the time nor the money to be spending evenings in a high end Casino. Then, after you started working for him, your nights were spent bandaging wounds, taking inventory of items, and anticipating the next injury - the thought of going out so far from your mind that it never even occurred to you. 

You keep mostly quiet as Minho walks you around, introducing you to people you’ve never seen, will probably never see again. You alternate between being awestruck at the extravagance of the place, politely making conversation with him and his associates, and pretending like you aren’t thinking about his tragically dead wife. You wish you could ask him if he’s okay, give him a hug - just do something. 

“Can you find something to keep yourself occupied, love? I need to have a private conversation with Mr. Jung for a few moments, play anything you’d like, I have you covered Kitten,” he rubs a gentle circle on your back and kisses your temple before departing towards a set of stairs. 

You’re not a gambler, and you’re about as skilled at Casino games as you are with open heart surgery. Which is to say, not at all. You stand in the middle of the giant space trying to decide, but probably just looking like an idiot. 

“You look lost,” Hyunjins voice comes up behind and you and you spin around, happy to have someone to talk to so you don’t look so clueless. 

“This isn’t really my scene,” you chuckle, fidgeting with your hands. 

“I didn’t want to comment on it before, but, when you got out of that car you took my breath away,” he smiles, “I’ve never seen someone look so beautiful,” he whispers. 

You look at him, “Be careful, I’ve been glued to Minho all night and I don’t need anyone in here reporting to him that the second his back is turned I’m falling all over you,” you warn him. 

“You’re probably right, but I’ve got a slew of new ideas for sketches, this dress should be illegal,” he grins. 

“Hyunjin,” your voice is a warning, you lower your voice, “I’ve been thinking about what happened the other night, the kiss,” you say quietly. 

“And?” 

“I feel safe with you,” you tell him honestly, “you’re the first person I’ve come across since starting all this that I’m not afraid of, that makes me smile, when you walk into view all my tension relaxes, and I know as long as you’re there everything will be okay. That’s how you make me feel. All I want is for you to wrap your arms around me and hold me and just exist in that feeling.”  

“Why do I feel a but coming?” he sighs, pretending to be interested in a coin machine. 

“But…I can’t just waltz up to Minho and tell him I can’t be his plus one, and that I can’t continue,” you scoff, trying to think of a word that described your relationship, “Can’t continue whatever the fuck he and I are doing, because I have feelings for you. Can you imagine how that will turn out?” 

“I get that,” Hyunjin nods, “but I want you to know that I care about you deeply, I’m enamored with you, I think about you all the time, and I’m fine just being grateful for every second alone I might get with you. I don’t care if I have to keep it to myself, I keep so much shit a secret that it’s just my normal state of mind at this point, I can keep you a secret.” 

You stare at him, wishing you could throw your arms around him and kiss him, thank him for being such a light in the shadows for you, and apologize for taking so long to see him, and for not being able to take his hand in yours this very moment. 

“Blackjack,” he says, nodding over to a nearby table. 

“Pardon?” 

“Go play blackjack, it’s easy, and even if you bust every time Minho will take care of it. It’ll give you something to do, I’ve got to get back to my post, but I didn’t want the night to go by without me telling you how beautiful you look, or how I feel,” he smiles, “Have fun tonight, beautiful.” 

You watch him go before deciding to take his advice and sit down at the Blackjack table. 

To your utter shock you win four games in a row, and you find that you actually might be having a good time. 

“Evening,” a deep voice greets as a tall man takes a seat beside you. 

“Good evening,” you respond. 

“Good fortune at this table I hope? ‘Cause I’ve been getting slammed,” he jokes and you smile. 

“So far so good,” you laugh, “but I’m sure my luck is overdue to run out any minute.” 

“Ah, that’s the thing about luck, it’s fleeting,” he says seriously, his tone makes you uncomfortable. “Especially when you’re friends with Lee Minho,” he adds in a lower cadence. 

At this you look at him out of the corner of your eye but say nothing, you’ll play out the hand then leave. 

“I will say that it’s nice to see him out and about with someone, we all figured he’d get tired of the blowjobs from Han Jisungs adorable little mouth at some point,” he chuckles darkly, and you nearly gasp at his audacity. “I have to say, you’re an absolute vision, how much is he paying you for the evening?” 

“I’m not being paid to be here you asshole,” you spit, “and you are playing a very dangerous game,” you warn. When the dealer flips her cards you’ve lost, and you get up from the table. 

“Sit down, ___, we’re just having a chat,” he motions you with his fingers and something in his voice sounds so incredibly dangerous that you’re afraid to defy him. 

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about everyone,” the man grins, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke in your face, you fan it away and look at your cards, “I know your name. I know that until four months ago you were working your ass off at the Anam Hospital until you found Lee bleeding in the parking lot, refusing to go into the emergency room, and you broke every rule in your precious book while you stole medical supplies and treated him in a van in the lot.” 

“Then I guess you already knew I wasn’t a paid escort, so either you’re just a fucking loser trying to insult me or you got a point to make with all this precious info - so make it,” you bite back. 

The man chuckles and takes another puff, “I like you. Know why? You got a mouth on you, despite being so fucking scared all the time - don’t deny it,” he shoots you a look when you start to argue, “You’re scared to death of what your life has become, I can smell the fear on you, but that mouth of yours doesn’t know when to quit huh?” 

“Must be the nurse in me,” you spit, “Do you want something? You got a rash or a burning sensation you need treated? Otherwise I’d like to go do literally anything else than sit here next to you.” 

“Don’t worry, I need to get back to my own date over there,” he points and you follow the line to see a pretty woman staring at him from across the room looking like she wants to leave, same, you think. 

“Then go,” you tell him. 

“I just want to know one thing,” he asks, throwing his cards down as he stands up, “Do you love each other?

“What?”

“You heard me.” 

“What do you care?” you demand instead of answering the ridiculous question. 

He smiles and snubs his cigarette out, “So that’s a no,” he laughs, “Good. I won’t feel so bad then,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering off with a shit eating grin. 

“Who are you?” 

The man just laughs and without looking back says, “I’ll be seeing you.” 

You watch as he approaches his pretty date and kisses her, then leads her toward the exit. You have zero time to think about the insane conversation before you feel someone's hand come down on your arm. 

“Get up,” Hyunjins voice is low and nervous.

“Oh - okay? What-,” 

“You were just speaking to Kim fucking Taehyung,” Hyunjin spits. 

“That was him? Oh shit…I didn’t know, Hyunjin I didn’t…” 

“Did you tell him anything that he can use against us?” Hyunjin asks urgently. 

“No! I barely said anything, he was just an asshole, I didn’t say anything!” 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Hyunjin shakes his head. 

“Is Minho angry with me?” you’re scared again, and Kim Taehyungs voice echoes in your head - can everyone smell how scared you are all the time? 

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin stops you in front of two giant mahogany doors that presumably lead into Minhos private office. “Go on. It’ll all be okay.” 

You slide through the door Hyunjin opens for you and feel it shut with a heavy thud. Minho is alone, pouring two drinks and bringing them over to a lavish sitting area. You stay frozen to the spot, unsure of what’s to come. 

“Well, sit down,” he gestures to the sofa and you slowly make your way over, gently setting yourself on the cushion, unable to find any comfortable position. 

Minho hands you one of the glasses of amber liquid and you’re happy to have something to do with your hands.

“Hyunjin told you who you were just speaking with?” he asks, sipping his own glass.

You nod, “He said it was Kim Taehyung, but Minho you must believe me when I tell you that I had no idea who that man was, and all he did was insult me, insult you, then walk away, I told him nothing.” 

“I know,” he shrugs. “You don’t think I have microphones at every table in this building?” 

“So…you’re not upset with me?” your voice sounds so small in the gigantic space. 

Minho’s face scrunches up, “I really fucked with your head the other day, didn’t I?” he sighs, “No, ___, I’m not upset with you.” 

You visibly relax with relief and take a long sip of scotch, though typically you can’t stand the stuff. 

“Kim Taehyung and I have an exceptionally brutal, bloody history,” Minho explains, and you remember Christophers story about his wife being killed by Kims men. “We go through wanes and waxes of feuds, the fact that he had the audacity to walk into my Casino tonight tells me we’re about to march into another period of fighting for territory in the city, but I’m no longer interested in trying to negotiate or spill the blood of our guys - this time I’m going to kill him, or be killed, but I swear to God, it will end with one of us dead,” he says so coldly, so resolutely that it sends chills down your spine. 

“Minho…” you say his name, a sadness on it that you can’t quite explain. 

He looks at you from over his glass, that dark, wild danger seeping from somewhere deep in his eyes. It’s terrifying, but it’s also intoxicating. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you find yourself scooting across the couch, capturing the side of his face with your palm. You kind of hate that it makes you happy when he seems to melt into your hand. 

He sets his glass down and pulls you onto him, his lips coming down on yours, hands tightly gripping your hips. 

“Have I told you how delectable you look tonight?” he whispers, bunching the fabric of your dress up until you’re exposed from the waist down. 

“You might have,” you smile at him, brushing your fingers through his dark hair, giving the ends a little tug. 

He groans then lifts you up momentarily before dropping you roughly onto your back on the sofa. You watch as he towers over you, loosening his tie with one hand and downing the rest of his drink with the other before tossing the glass to some unseen place. 

“Good enough to eat,” he licks his lips and stares down at you in a way that sets your whole body ablaze. You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you watch him lower his mouth between your legs. He doesn’t waste time teasing or playing, he just moves the ridiculous, pointless thong you wore to the side and wraps his lips around your clit. 

You gasp, your fingers flying to his hair. You pant and try to stay quiet as he sucks and licks, the thought of a Casino full of people below seems to only fuel how hot the situation is. 

“Please…Minho…” 

“Want me to stop Kitten?” he smiles, wiping the wetness from his lips and chin. 

“No,” you shake your head back and forth frantically, your eyes darting down to the hardness bulging behind his pants. You slip your fingers under your underwear and pull, he helps you remove them easily. 

“My girl gets whatever she wants,” he chuckles darkly, removing his belt and unzipping his fly, shimmying his pants and boxers down his thighs. He hitches your thigh around his hips and lowers himself, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. 

“Mmm,” you whine, screwing your eyes shut, fresh manicure pawing at his hips to bring him closer, “please.” 

With that, he pushes into you deep and hard and you gasp, your back arching off the sofa as his hips thrust, snapping against the back of your thighs. He grabs your hands and pins them over your head, fucking into you like it’s going to fix every problem he’s ever had. You try to meet his thrusts with your hips, lifting yourself off the couch just so, and it ends up hitting the most delicious spot, you can’t stop your eyes from nearly rolling back into your brain. 

“Oh fuck,” you groan, “oh fuck, keep going, right there…fuck.” 

“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect little slut,” he grunts, unpinning your hands. He slides his fingers gently around your throat, not squeezing but anchoring you down while he drives his cock into you like you asked. You can feel the whitehot pull in the pit of your abdomen, you dig your nails into his arms and he moans from deep within, he stills himself and spills into you just as you reach your own climax. 

He continues to pump in and out of you slowly, your eyes meet briefly and he’s about to say something when the door to his office opens. 

“Sir, Mr. Park has the intel-,” Hyunjins voice stops abruptly and you flinch, “Shit. I’m sorry,” he says and you don’t have to see his face to hear the surprise in his voice, surprise laced with hurt. 

“It’s fine,” Minho stands and pulls his pants back up while you lay motionless in front of him, out of Hyunjins line of sight, “Tell Park to give me five minutes, and arrange for ___s car to be pulled around please.” 

“Yes sir.” 

You sit up when you hear the door close, grab your panties off the floor and slide them back on. This was one hundred percent you, and you’re torn between feeling disgusted with yourself, and also wanting to ask Minho to come home with you. What has gotten into you? 

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” Minho says, and you wonder if he can sense your desire to not part ways just yet. 

“Okay,” you stand, voice quiet and legs still wobbly. 

“I don’t really let people in,” he says, “I don’t really want to, it’s not worth caring about people when you stand to lose them, but you’re making it very hard for me ___.” 

You’ve no idea what to say to that. The door opens again, and you brace yourself to look Hyunjin in the eyes right after he caught you fucking Minho after bearing his soul to you, but this time it’s Seungmin peeking his head in, “Car’s ready sir.” 

“Go on,” Minho nods to the door, “Get home safe.” 

You nod and turn on your heels, Seungmin silently escorts you down to the car, opens the door for you and shuts it, all without a word, thankfully. You don’t see Hyunjin again, and for that you’re also thankful, though you wager that it’s intentional on his part. 

You ride home, watching lights blur together as you get lost in your own thoughts. You don’t think about Minho or Hyunjin, you push those away violently. Instead you think of inventory, think of stitches, practice them in your head, and think of how you miss the hospital. How you miss the fact that between rounds, white boards, charting, and drama you never had a spare second to get lost in bad thoughts, guilty thoughts. At one point you’d have traded it for just about anything, but now you crave it. You want your old life back. Though you think it’s probably too late for that. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You’ve just gotten out of the shower and tucked yourself into bed when you hear the pounding on the door. You look at your phone - no missed calls or texts. The pounding continues and you push the blankets off of you, wrap a robe around you, grab your phone and make your way downstairs. 

You bet it’s Hyunjin, coming to tell you that he was wrong, that he never wants to see you or speak to you or even draw you on paper ever again. You almost open the door, but then Minhos voice in your head stops you. 

If anyone ever comes knocking and they haven’t called first, tell them they have to give you the password before you unlock the door. Hellevator. If they can’t produce that specific word then don’t you dare open the door, and call me immediately. 

Your hand freezes on the handle, “Give me the password!” you yell through the door, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest harder with every passing second of no answer. You unlock the phone in your hand and start to find the only contact you have saved in it. 

Suddenly one of the metal chairs on the front porch comes crashing through the window. You scream, running towards the kitchen for a knife. When you dare to look back you see three men closing in on you,  masks on their face, it’s the most terrifying image you’ve ever experienced. Like something out of a nightmare.  

Foolishly you point the knife at them, but the nearest man seems unimpressed as he forcefully smacks it out of your hand. 

“No, no!” you scream and try to run, but it seems like all you do is run straight into another mans chest, he turns you around, holding your hands painfully behind your back. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you cry, throat searing with pain from the sheer volume of your voice. 

“Shut her up!” 

A thick, meaty fist comes down hard against the side of your jaw, you feel the inside of your cheek fill with blood almost instantly and you wonder if a tooth has been knocked out. Before you can process that, a hand comes down on your shoulder to hold you still against the man behind you, and the same meaty fist against your jaw comes down directly into your gut, knocking the wind out of you. Your knees buckle and the man from behind releases you, so you fall to the floor with a  hard smack. 

The men take turns kicking you in the back, the chest, the legs. The pain is so severe you black out every few seconds, only to come back to consciousness for another kick. 

You’re not sure how long they do this. It could be minutes or hours, but finally they seem to stop. One of them bends down, grabs you by the hair and pulls your face off the floor. 

“Tell your boyfriend Mr. Kim is waiting for his next move,” he laughs, then shoves your face into the floor violently, you can feel the blood seeping from your nostrils now. 

You lay there, you can see their boots moving towards the door, shuffling out. The digital clock on the entry table says it’s just after midnight. You lay your head back down on the floor and close your eyes. When you open them back up it’s almost two in the morning. The house is dark, but you see the reflection of the refrigerator light glinting off your phone a few feet away. You lay your hands flat against the hardwood and try to drag yourself. Everything hurts, it hurts so bad, and you have no idea how bad the damage could be. You could be bleeding out internally for all you know. You try again, this time you move your legs just a little for momentum. It takes several tries before you move more than just wiggling your body. 

Finally you make it to the phone, you unlock it, still on Minhos contact. You hit the call button and listen to the ringing echo in your ear. 

“Hello?” he answers and you start crying into the phone in painful sobs. 

“___? What’s wrong?” 

“Help,” you manage to gasp into the phone between screams and sobs, the taste of salty, bloody spit covering your tongue, your lips. 

“I’m coming baby, hold on.” 

Then everything goes dark again. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You hear the voices first, though everything sounds like it’s underwater. It’s when you feel the hands on you that you shoot up, screaming, flailing, begging them to stop. 

“__!! It’s me! It’s Hyunjin, sweetheart please!” 

“Give her a bit of space.” 

“God, they really fucked her up.” 

“What should we do?” 

All voices seem to be coming from different people, or they could be coming from the same person, you don’t know. You don’t care. 

“__, open your eyes, it’s alright, you’re safe now.” 

Safe. The very concept feels so far away right now that you actually laugh. You slowly open your eyes and wince at the bright light. Minho kneels before you, an indescribable expression on his face. Concern? Anger? Horror? You aren’t sure. You can feel your back propped up against someone, Hyunjin, you can smell his cologne. Seungmin and Changbin stand off in the background, hands in their pockets, looking at you like…well, like you’ve had the shit kicked out of you. 

“Can you stand darling?” Minho extends his hand to you, but you won’t touch it. 

You shake your head, the simple act a painful one, “You need to take me to a hospital,” you moan, “I need to get checked out, everything hurts so bad,” you sniff. You feel the tears spill down your face, hot and searing against your sore skin. Even crying hurts. 

“I’ll take you, come on,” Hyunjin says from behind. 

“You can’t go to any hospital,” Seungmin reminds him. “Especially with her all fucked up like this? They’ll throw down every red flag they can.” 

“He’s right,” Minho nods. 

“I don’t give a shit!” Hyunjin yells and it makes your ears ring, “What are they going to do? I don’t even have so much as a fucking parking ticket to my name, detain me? Big fucking deal!” 

“They’ll detain you, and as soon as Kims cops get word you’re in there, the only way you’ll come out is in a body bag,” Minho explains. 

The mention of the Kim name floods your thoughts with the deep, guttural words of the men who did this to you. 

“He said…” your lip shakes and you can’t get the words out. Minho kneels back down and grabs your hands with his. “They said to tell my boyfriend Mr. Kim is waiting for your next move.” 

Minhos jaw clenches, though you suspect he knew Kim was behind it regardless of the message. He stands back up and drags his hand down his face, “Seungmin, call Chris. He won’t be on anyone’s radar anywhere, he can escort her to the hospital. Changbin, call Felix and ask him to take the others to the new safehouse and get it set up for her, this one’s dead, no one comes back here.” 

Changbin pulls his phone out and leaves the room. Hyunjin continues to hold you on the floor, rocking you gently in his arms. 

“Even if Chris isn’t on any radars, they’re still going to know what happened to her,” Seungmin nods towards where you sit on the floor. 

“They can tell the staff she fell down the stairs,” Hyunjin suggests but to your surprise both you and Seungmin scoff at this. 

“They never believe that shit,” you say quietly. “I’ll tell them I got mugged walking home, Chris was a good samaritan that found me and brought me in, he can go wait in the car until I’m ready to be discharged, but I have to make sure nothing is bleeding internally, those bastards had to be wearing steel toed boots,” you groan, clutching your stomach. 

Seungmin nods with a sad smile and walks off to make the call. 

“We can’t let this go unpunished,” Hyunjin growls from behind you. 

“And we won’t,” Minho looks down at him with a lethal visage. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“What did they say?” Christopher asks as you struggle sliding into the passenger seat. 

“I’m not dying,” you pant, resting your head against the back of the seat. “Three cracked ribs, lots of deep bruising, a few lacerations but nothing that can’t be fixed with some pain killers and ice packs.” 

“Good,” he nods, “Minho and Hyunjin have been calling nonstop, do you want to call them back?” 

You shake your head, “No.” 

“Works for me,” he shrugs, “Did the hospital ask any questions?” 

“Obviously,” you scoff, “but I told them the same thing we said when we got there. You found me mugged, that’s why I didn’t have my ID or anything on me, I didn’t get to see who did it but he was wearing a mask and heavy black boots. They asked the police to come in and I gave them my statement but you and I both know they won’t look very hard. Eighty percent of the cops in this town are crooked, they probably already know who did this anyway. I doubt I’ll hear from them, especially since the address I gave them I won’t ever go back to again.” 

“Yeah,” Chris shakes his head, “I’m sorry sweetie, this all just…really fucking sucks for you. The new house is gorgeous though, if it’s any consolation, I think you’ll like it.” 

“I’m sure it’s nice,” you say, staring out the window, “but I won’t be staying long.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m out, and I know I shouldn’t be telling you this but I really don’t give a shit. I’m done. I’m not sticking around to wait for those…monsters to come back and finish me off, or get gunned down on my way to the fucking grocery store. No. I am out.” 

Chris reaches over and takes your hand in his with a gentle squeeze, “I hear what you’re saying, and I hope that you get what you want, but honey - and I say this with all the love - don’t hold your breath.”

Endnotes:

Endnotes:

Taglist: @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @hpnsfwaddict @simpforleeknaur @the-sweetest-rosie @hyunjinhoexxx @aeri-skzver @mbioooo0000 @seungminindabuilding @moni-logues @shioriyametho @jamlessstars @tirena1 @bswrldd @chartrucewhore @yaorzu-blog all for wanting to be tagged!! I appreciate you <3 If your name is in bold I still can't tag you for some reason, so I apologize!!

As per usual, if you've made it this far, here is your virtual smooch! Thank you for reading <3

[gyorouis]

𐙚 WHY I LOVE YOU - CSB.

— soobin had always known you better than anyone else, and it made the silence between you two more unbearable.

genre: fluff, slight angst but it's just because soobin loves reader sm! established relationship, romance, slice of life.

pairing: boyfriend!soobin x afab!reader

warning: emotional content, themes of self-isolation and self-sabotage, mild conflict, reconciliation, if i forgot anything pls let me know!

wordcount: 7.8k

now playing: orange & lemons — hanggang kailan ୨ৎ

“soobinie~” a sweet voice called out, effortlessly cutting through the hum of conversation that filled the room. soobin’s head turned instinctively, and as his eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up with a warmth that radiated from the depths of his heart. those eyes—bright and full of the same gentle affection that had captured his heart back in college—met his gaze, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“there she is,” taehyun whispered, nudging soobin with a knowing grin.

soobin’s smile softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that only you could bring out of him. “love,” he greeted you, his voice tender. his soft hand made it’s way to your back to caress it.

you beamed, your happiness evident as you took in the sight of everyone gathered around the table. “how are you guys? i haven’t seen you all in so long!” you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with the joy of reunion.

beomgyu glanced up from his phone, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “yeah, i think the last time we all got together was christmas last year, right?” he chuckled, though his attention quickly drifted back to his phone. every now and then, his eyes would dart around the venue, as if he was searching for someone amidst the crowd.

you chuckled, shaking your head. “actually, i’ve been meaning to ask you guys to come over this weekend,” you began, a teasing glint in your eyes as you turned to soobin. “soobin’s been nagging me about how much he misses you all, and he practically begged me to invite you.”

soobin’s eyes widened in mock horror, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. “love, i told you not to tell them that,” he protested, his voice tinged with playful embarrassment.

you shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as you reached out to caress his shoulder. “why not? it’s exactly what you said,” you teased, watching the way he sighed in defeat, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

“you’re still like that? that’s adorable,” hueningkai chimed in, his voice laced with amusement as he watched the interaction between the two of you.

you turned your attention to hueningkai, grinning. “yeah, he’s still too easy to tease,” you confirmed, casting a loving glance at soobin, who now sat up a little straighter, a playful smirk beginning to form on his lips.

“and she still cries whenever we fight,” soobin shot back, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t entirely joking.

“oh yeah! remember that time? soobin actually cried himself to sleep when you wouldn’t talk to him for days,” beomgyu added, his voice teasing as he finally looked up from his phone, a mischievous grin on his face.

soobin’s expression shifted as he shot beomgyu a sharp look. “just shut your mouth and focus on your phone,” he warned, though the laughter in his eyes betrayed any real annoyance.

you blinked, your curiosity piqued. “eh? when was that?” you asked, turning to soobin with a puzzled expression.

taehyun couldn’t resist jumping in. “it’s happened so many times, she doesn’t even remember,” he joked, and the entire table erupted into laughter once more.

leaning closer to soobin, you whispered softly, “when did that happen, love?”soobin’s lips curled into a fond smile as he let his mind wander back to that moment in time. his heart swelled with the memory, but before he could answer, he found himself pulled even further back—back to the very first time he had ever laid eyes on you. the memory was so vivid, so full of color and emotion, that it felt like he was living it all over again. the moment that had changed everything for him—the moment he realized that his life would never be the same because of you.

the clinking of glasses and the low murmur of sophisticated conversation filled the grand dining hall. soobin, dressed in a tailored suit that made him feel more like a stranger to himself, stood quietly at the edge of the room, his hands neatly clasped in front of him. these business dinners were a common occurrence in his life, but they never got any less daunting. the weight of expectations from his father and the high society crowd often left him feeling out of place, like he was wearing a mask that didn’t quite fit.

he scanned the room, his eyes sweeping over the sea of unfamiliar faces, until they landed on someone who stood out from the rest. you. you were dressed elegantly, yet there was something refreshingly unpretentious about you. unlike the other guests, who seemed engrossed in their conversations, you were gazing out of the large windows, your expression serene, as if you were somewhere else entirely. the way the soft lighting played on your features made you look almost ethereal, and soobin found himself drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

it was as if the noise of the room faded, leaving just the two of you in that moment. summoning the courage that often eluded him in these settings, he made his way toward you, his heart pounding with a mix of nerves and anticipation. each step felt like it was taking him closer to something significant, something that would alter the course of his life in ways he couldn’t yet comprehend.

“hi,” he greeted, his voice a little softer than he intended. you turned towards him, your eyes meeting his, and the world seemed to stand still. there was a warmth in your gaze that made the formal setting feel a little less intimidating, a little more like a place where he could just be himself.

“hello,” you replied, a small, polite smile gracing your lips. there was something in the way you looked at him that made him feel like you weren’t just seeing the polished exterior he had to present at these events—you were seeing him.

“i’m soobin,” he introduced himself, trying to ignore the awkwardness that threatened to creep into his voice. “my father... well, he’s hosting this dinner.”

“i know who you are,” you said, your smile widening slightly. “i’m y/n. my father works closely with yours. i think we’ve seen each other at a few events, but we’ve never had the chance to talk.” your voice was calm, steady, and it put him at ease in a way he hadn’t expected.

he nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your gaze. “yeah, these events tend to be a bit... overwhelming.”

you chuckled softly, and the sound of it was like music to his ears, a melody that he wanted to hear again and again. “they do. but it’s nice to finally meet you. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

“good things, i hope?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, though there was an edge of genuine curiosity in his voice.

“mostly,” you teased, and the ease with which you responded made him relax, the tension in his shoulders easing. “i’ve heard you’re quite the scholar.”

soobin’s cheeks tinged pink at the compliment. “i try my best.” there was something endearing about how flustered he felt in your presence, something that made him want to impress you even more.

the conversation flowed effortlessly from there, as if you’d known each other for much longer than just these few minutes. you talked about everything from school to your favorite books, and as the night wore on, soobin found himself completely captivated by you. there was a warmth and genuineness in your words that made him feel like he could talk to you forever, like you were a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stifling atmosphere of the evening.

the way you listened to him, truly listened, with a soft smile and an occasional laugh, made him feel seen in a way that was rare for him. most people saw him as the polished, perfect son of a powerful businessman, but you... you saw something more, something deeper. and that scared him just as much as it thrilled him.

before he knew it, the dinner was winding down, and guests began to make their polite goodbyes. soobin realized with a pang of regret that the evening was coming to an end, and he wasn’t ready to let go of this connection just yet. as you both stood near the entrance, waiting for your parents to finish their farewells, soobin turned to you, a hesitant smile on his lips.

“i really enjoyed talking to you tonight,” he said earnestly, his heart pounding in his chest. “i don’t usually enjoy these events, but... tonight was different.” there was a vulnerability in his words, an unspoken hope that you felt the same way.

you looked up at him, your eyes twinkling with the same gentle affection that would one day become so familiar to him. “i enjoyed it too, soobin. maybe we’ll run into each other again soon.”

“i hope so,” he replied, and he meant it with every fiber of his being. the thought of seeing you again filled him with a quiet anticipation, a hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something special.

as your parents called for you, you gave him one last smile, a soft, lingering look that stayed with him long after you walked out of the grand hall. soobin found himself watching you until you disappeared from view. he didn’t know it then, but that was the moment his life had truly begun to change—the moment he met you.

just a week after meeting you, the universe seemed to have more amazing plans in store for both of you. the university campus buzzed with energy during the university week. booths lined the pathways, each one offering something different—food, games, crafts, and a hundred other distractions that drew students in like moths to a flame. soobin wandered through the crowd with yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai, their laughter and banter blending with the lively atmosphere around them.

“i can’t believe you convinced me to skip studying for this,” taehyun muttered, though his lips twitched into a reluctant smile as he watched yeonjun try to win a stuffed animal at one of the game booths.

“come on, you needed a break,” hueningkai chimed in, nudging taehyun with his elbow. “besides, it’s not like you’re actually missing anything important. just think of it as a mental health day.”

“he’s right,” beomgyu added, his eyes scanning the various stalls. soobin chuckled at their playful arguments, but his mind was only half in the conversation. the vibrant colors of the booths and the excited chatter of students filled the air, yet there was something else that caught his attention, something—or rather, someone—that made everything else fade into the background.

it was you.

standing by a fruit stall, you were dressed casually, yet effortlessly chic. your hair cascaded around your shoulders, catching the sunlight and framing your face perfectly. you were smiling, a soft, genuine smile that reached your eyes as you chatted with the vendor, selecting a few fresh strawberries from the display. the sight of you—so natural, so unguarded—took his breath away. he had no idea you went to the same university, but now that he saw you, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed you sooner.

“soobin, you okay?” yeonjun’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. he blinked, realizing he had been staring.

“uh, yeah,” soobin replied quickly, trying to sound casual. “i just... i think i see someone i know.” his voice trailed off, his gaze drifting back to you.

the others followed his line of sight, their expressions shifting from curiosity to knowing grins as they spotted you.

“well, well, well,” beomgyu drawled, a teasing lilt in his voice. “who’s this mysterious girl that’s got our soobin all starry-eyed?”

soobin’s cheeks flushed, but he didn’t deny it. “i met her at one of my dad’s business dinners,” he explained, his eyes never leaving you. “i didn’t know she went here.”

“so what are you waiting for?” yeonjun urged, nudging soobin forward. “go talk to her. we’ll cover for you if anyone asks.”

“yeah, man,” hueningkai added with a grin. “you don’t get chances like this every day.”

soobin hesitated for only a moment before he nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. “okay, i’m going,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

as he made his way through the crowd, the noise around him seemed to fade into a distant hum. his focus was solely on you, the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, the way the sun highlighted the soft waves in your hair, and the way you seemed so at ease in your own world.

when he reached the fruit stall, you looked up, and your eyes met his. recognition flickered across your face, followed by a warm smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“soobin?” you said, a note of surprise in your voice. “what are you doing here?”

“hey,” he greeted, trying to keep his voice steady. “i, uh, didn’t realize we go to the same university.”

you laughed softly, the sound making his heart flutter. “small world, huh? i didn’t know either. it’s nice to see a familiar face in such a big crowd.”

“yeah, it is,” soobin agreed, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease as you continued to smile at him. “what have you been up to? enjoying the university week?”

“yeah, i’ve been checking out the booths and trying all the snacks,” you replied, holding up the small basket of strawberries you’d just purchased. “want one?”

“sure,” soobin said, accepting the strawberry you offered him. as he bit into the juicy fruit, he found himself smiling too. “these are really good.”

“aren’t they? i’ve been coming to this stall since they opened,” you said with a grin. “there’s just something about fresh fruit that makes everything better.”

“i couldn’t agree more,” soobin said, feeling more at ease now that you were talking. he glanced around the bustling campus, then back at you. “do you... maybe want to check out some more booths together?”

your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “i’d love that.”

the rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. you and soobin tried different snacks, played games at the booths, and even got caught up in a spontaneous dance performance by a group of students. everything felt so natural, so right, that it was easy to forget about the world outside this little bubble you’d created together.

as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the campus, you found yourselves sitting on a bench near the fountain, the gentle sound of water mingling with the distant music from the celebration.

“this was really nice,” you said, leaning back and closing your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the day settle into your bones. “i didn’t expect to have such a good time today.”

“me neither,” soobin replied, watching you with a soft smile. “i’m glad we got to spend it together.”

you opened your eyes and turned to him, your expression thoughtful. “couldn't agree more.”

over the next few weeks, soobin found himself increasingly eager to see you again. it began subtly. one evening, as you were heading back to your dorm after a long day of classes, you noticed soobin standing near the entrance, seemingly engrossed in his phone. his eyes lit up when he saw you, and he greeted you with that warm, familiar smile.

“hey,” he said casually, as if it were perfectly normal for him to be there.

“hey, soobin,” you replied, slightly surprised. “what’s up?”

“oh, just waiting for a friend,” he said with a shrug. “what about you?”

“just heading back to my room,” you said, trying to shake off the odd feeling. “care to join me for a coffee? it’s been a long day.”

“i’d love to,” soobin said, falling into step beside you as you walked towards the café.

this happened a few more times over the next few weeks. soobin would suddenly appear near your building, as if by coincidence, just when you were about to head out or take a break. each time, he greeted you with that same easy smile and casual demeanor, making it seem like he was always in the right place at the right time.

one day, as you were walking to the library, you saw him sitting on a bench, pretending to read a book. his eyes met yours, and he waved enthusiastically.

“hi again,” he said, his tone cheerful.

“hi, soobin,” you replied, trying to mask your curiosity. “you seem to be around here a lot lately.”

“yeah,” he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. “i guess i just like this spot. it’s peaceful.”

you chuckled softly. “well, it’s nice to see you.”

the conversations continued effortlessly, and you began to enjoy these spontaneous encounters. the first time you noticed it, it was a chilly autumn afternoon. you had just finished a long day of classes and were walking back to your dorm, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your feet. as you approached the entrance to your building, you saw him—soobin, standing casually by the front steps, as if he had just happened to be there. his eyes lit up when he saw you, and he waved.

“hey, fancy seeing you here,” he greeted with a smile that seemed just a little too perfect for a coincidence.

you raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your curiosity. “hey, soobin. what brings you here?”

“oh, just passing by,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “thought i’d see if you were around.”

you shrugged off the odd feeling, chalking it up to chance. after all, it was a big campus, and he could have been in the area for any number of reasons. but as the days went by, these chance encounters started to become more frequent.

one morning, as you were heading to the library, you spotted soobin in the distance, sitting on a bench, engrossed in a book, again. the same book that you’ve been seeing him read. he looked up just as you approached and smiled warmly.

“good morning,” he called out, his voice carrying through the crisp air.

“good morning,” you replied, your curiosity piqued. “you seem to be here a lot lately.”

“yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “guess i just enjoy this spot. it’s nice and quiet.”

“it is,” you agreed, sitting down beside him. “do you come here often?”

“only when i get a chance,” he said, glancing at you with a look that seemed to say there was more to it. “it’s a good place to clear my head.”

the two of you chatted for a while, the conversation flowing easily as always. but what you didn’t know was that this was no random occurrence. soobin had planned it with his friends. they had been giving him tips on where you would be, thanks to their own observations and a bit of discreet information sharing.

a few days later, you were at the campus café, waiting in line for your coffee when soobin appeared at the counter, ordering the same drink as you. he gave you a friendly wave when he saw you.

“what a coincidence,” you remarked, raising an eyebrow.

“seems like it,” he said with a grin, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “mind if i join you?”

“sure,” you said, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

they were always pleasant encounters, but the repetition made you wonder if there was more to them. you mentioned it to your friend, mina, who laughed it off.

“maybe he’s just really into the same places you are,” she suggested, though there was a hint of teasing in her voice.

then came a rainy afternoon. you were huddled under an umbrella, making your way to a small bookstore you loved. as you reached the entrance, you saw soobin leaning against the door frame, checking his phone. he looked up and his face brightened.

“again?” you asked, feigning surprise.

“again,” he replied with a chuckle. “you seem to have great taste in bookstores.”

“or you just follow me around,” you teased.

soobin laughed, shaking his head. “i swear, it’s just a coincidence.”

this was all part of a plan that had been set in motion by soobin and his friends. they had been working behind the scenes to make these “accidental” meetings happen. beomgyu and yeonjun, who had a knack for knowing your schedule, were often the ones feeding soobin with tips about where you might be. taehyun and hueningkai, always ready with a bit of distraction, made sure that soobin was always in the right place at the right time.

one evening, after another of these coincidental encounters, soobin and his friends gathered at a café near campus. the group was huddled around a table, laughing and chatting about their day.

“so, how’s the mission going?” beomgyu asked, sipping his coffee.

“it’s going well,” soobin replied, glancing at his phone. “we’ve managed to bump into her a lot.”

“it’s like magic,” hueningkai teased. “almost like you’re everywhere she is.”

“i just hope she doesn’t catch on.”

“she’s smart,” yeonjun warned, “but she also likes you. if you keep this up, you might just win her over.” soobin smiled, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

and as for you, while you couldn’t deny the growing affection you felt for soobin, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that these meetings were more than just coincidence. you just weren’t sure yet whether to laugh about it or confront him about it.

one afternoon, as you and soobin wandered through a park, the warm sunlight filtering through the leaves, you decided to broach a topic that had been on your mind for a while.

“soobin,” you began, a playful edge to your voice, “do you have some kind of magical power that makes you show up wherever i am?”

he looked at you, his eyes twinkling with a mix of surprise and amusement. “maybe i do,” he said with a grin. “or maybe i just really enjoy your company.”

“you know,” you said, teasingly, “if you keep this up, people might start talking.”

“let them talk,” he replied, his smile widening.

as the two of you continued your walk, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. the laughter and chatter of the park faded into the background as you both reveled in the easy comfort of each other’s presence. it was in this quiet, stolen moment that you began to wonder if these coincidences might be leading to something more than you had ever imagined.

your curiosity got the better of you, and you suddenly asked, “i’m starting to think that you like me.”

soobin’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he grinned, that familiar, mischievous glint in his eyes. “you’re not so slow,” he said, his tone teasing. “oh, so i was right…” you chuckled, covering your face as a blush spread across your cheeks. “when did it start?” you added, still grinning.

“the business party,” he admitted bluntly, his tone carrying a mix of nostalgia and warmth.

“wow… just… wow. that long?” you asked, incredulous. “yeah. is there a problem?” he asked, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

“yeah,” you said, your tone serious but with a twinkle of amusement. soobin’s face fell, panic flashing in his eyes as he avoided meeting your gaze. “w-why?” he stammered.

“because it took you too long to confess when i’ve been waiting for you to,” you said, trying to hide your smile.

soobin looked up at you, his eyes meeting your sweet gaze. “waiting, since?” he asked.

you rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “i don’t know when exactly, but i probably started liking you when I would run into you ‘accidentally,’” you said, making air quotes around the word “accidentally.”

“am i obvious?” he asked shyly, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“too obvious,” you said with a laugh, “that I was starting to get frustrated because you wouldn’t just come to me and say, ‘hey, i like you, let’s go out.’ i mean, i would say yes immediately. you just have to tell me—”

but your words were cut off when soobin pulled you closer. his eyes searched yours for a moment, and then he asked, “would you mind if i kiss you?”

you were taken aback by his sudden courage, but you found yourself smiling warmly. “i don’t mind,” you said softly.

slowly, as if savoring every moment, soobin’s lips met yours. the kiss was gentle at first, a tender exploration that spoke volumes of the feelings that had been building between you. in that shared, quiet space, everything else seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you and the promise of something beautiful unfolding.

as your relationship with soobin deepened, the two of you discovered so much about each other, learning the small quirks and habits that made you both unique. each moment, each discovery, only brought you closer. one of the things soobin quickly learned about you was your love for movies, especially ones with complex plots that made you think. every friday, you and soobin would settle in for a movie night, a bowl of popcorn between you, and a stack of your favorite films on the coffee table. it became a ritual, a quiet time that the two of you cherished.

“you always pick the best movies,” soobin remarked one evening, as the credits rolled on another mind-bending thriller.

you smiled, snuggling closer to him on the couch. “i just like movies that make you think, you know? ones that stay with you long after they’re over.”

soobin nodded, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “i’ve noticed,” he said, his voice soft. “you always have that little furrow between your brows when you’re really into the plot, like you’re trying to solve the puzzle before it ends.”

you laughed, nudging him playfully. “you’re so observant, soobin. i didn’t even realize i did that.”

“it’s one of the things i love about you,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you’re always thinking, always analyzing. it’s fascinating to watch.”

soobin also learned that you had a weakness for a particular type of snack: spicy chips. it wasn’t just a casual liking; it was an obsession. he noticed how your eyes would light up whenever you spotted a bag in the store, how you’d always grab one or two, even if you had plenty at home.

one afternoon, after a particularly long day from school, you came home to find a surprise waiting for you. on the kitchen counter was a small basket filled with all your favorite snacks, including a few bags of your beloved spicy chips. a small note was attached to the basket, written in soobin’s neat handwriting: just in case you need a pick-me-up. love, soobin.

you smiled to yourself, feeling a warm rush of affection for him. “you’re too good to me, soobin,” you said as you found him in the living room, leaning over the back of the couch to give him a kiss on the cheek.

he looked up at you with a shy smile. “i just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed. i know how much you love those chips.”

“i do,” you said, laughing softly. “but i love you more.”

as the months went by, soobin also learned the little things about your daily routines. he noticed how you liked to start your mornings with a cup of tea instead of coffee, how you always needed a few minutes to yourself after waking up, just to gather your thoughts for the day ahead. he made a habit of quietly making your tea for you in the mornings, leaving it on the kitchen counter for you to find when you came downstairs.

“you’re spoiling me like a child” you teased one morning as you took a sip of the tea he had prepared for you.

“i just want to make your mornings a little easier,” soobin said with a smile, leaning against the counter as he watched you.

“you always know exactly what i need,” you said, your voice soft with gratitude. “even when i don’t say anything.”

“i pay attention,” he said simply. “i like knowing the little things about you. it’s what makes us… us.”

soobin also learned about your fears, the things that made you anxious or worried. he noticed how you would get quiet whenever something was bothering you, how you would retreat into yourself, trying to work through your thoughts alone. it took time, but he gradually learned how to gently coax you out of those moments, offering comfort and understanding without pushing too hard.

one night, after a particularly stressful day, you found yourself overwhelmed by worries that you couldn’t quite shake. you were sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, when soobin came in and sat beside you.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked softly, his hand resting on your back.

you sighed, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “just… everything,” you admitted. “sometimes it feels like it’s all too much.”

soobin nodded, understanding without needing to ask for details. “you don’t have to go through it alone,” he said gently. “i’m here, and i’ll always be here. whatever it is, we can face it together.”

you looked at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, soobin.”

“you’ll never have to find out,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “i’m not going anywhere.”

soobin had always been observant, especially when it came to you. he noticed the little things—the way your eyes would dart away when you were avoiding something, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when you were trying to hide how you really felt. it was something that became more apparent as time went on, particularly when the stress of school began to weigh heavily on you.

one afternoon, as the two of you sat together in the university courtyard, soobin noticed that you seemed distant. you were both supposed to be studying for an upcoming exam, but while soobin’s notes were spread out in front of him, yours remained untouched. instead, you were staring off into the distance, your expression blank.

“hey,” soobin said softly, reaching out to touch your hand. “are you okay?”

you blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and turned to him with a forced smile. “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking.”

he wasn’t convinced. “you sure? you’ve been really quiet lately.”

you nodded, trying to brush off his concern. “just tired, that’s all.”

but soobin knew better. he had seen this before—the way you would retreat into yourself when things got overwhelming. it was your way of coping, but it also meant shutting out the people who cared about you. he hated seeing you like this, carrying all that weight alone.

a few days later, the pattern continued. you’d been more withdrawn than usual, spending most of your time buried in your books, but soobin could see the tension in your posture, the way your hands trembled slightly when you thought no one was looking. it was obvious that something was bothering you, but every time he asked, you just shrugged it off with a half-hearted “i’m fine.”

one evening, after another long day of classes, soobin decided he couldn’t just let this continue. you were sitting at your desk in your room, your laptop open but your attention elsewhere. he knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you looked up, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. “about what?”

“about you,” he said, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. “i’ve noticed you’ve been really quiet lately. and i know you keep saying you’re fine, but… i don’t think you are.”

you sighed, closing your laptop and leaning back in your chair. “i’m just… stressed. school, everything. it’s a lot.”

“i know it is,” soobin said, his eyes soft with concern. “but you don’t have to go through it alone. you know that, right?”

you looked down at your hands, avoiding his gaze. “i don’t want to be a burden.”

“you’re not a burden,” he said firmly, reaching out to take your hand. “i care about you, and it hurts me to see you struggling like this. i want to help, but i can’t if you keep pushing me away.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in. “i just… i don’t know how to ask for help,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“you don’t have to ask,” soobin said, squeezing your hand gently. “i’m here for you, always. whether you want to talk, or just need someone to sit with you in silence, i’m here.”

tears welled up in your eyes, the emotions you’d been bottling up finally coming to the surface. “i’m scared, soobin,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “scared of failing, scared of letting everyone down… letting you down.”

“you could never let me down,” soobin said, his voice soft but unwavering. “you’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for. and no matter what happens, i’ll be here for you, okay? we’ll get through this together.”

you nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks trying to let go of the walls you’d built around yourself. soobin pulled you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as you cried softly against his shoulder.

but despite his reassurances, you found yourself slipping back into old habits. the demands of school, the pressure to excel—it all felt like too much. and so you started shutting soobin out again, telling yourself that you didn’t want to burden him with your problems.

whenever soobin tried to talk to you about what was bothering you, you brushed him off with the same excuse: “i’m fine, really. just tired.”

he could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped under the weight of everything you were carrying. it broke his heart to see you like this, but no matter how hard he tried, you wouldn’t let him in.

it all came to a head on the day of your second anniversary. the day was supposed to be special, a celebration of two years together. soobin had been planning for weeks, arranging a surprise dinner, getting you a thoughtful gift. he couldn’t wait to see the smile on your face when he surprised you.

but when he arrived at your apartment that evening, his excitement was quickly dashed. you greeted him with a tired expression, your eyes puffy and red as if you’d been crying. the room was dark, the usual warmth replaced with a cold silence that made soobin’s heart sink.

“hey,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “what’s wrong?”

you shook your head, trying to force a smile. “nothing, just… had a rough day.”

soobin could see right through you, but he didn’t want to push too hard. instead, he pulled you into a hug, hoping to comfort you. “come on, let’s sit down. i brought your favorite.”

he led you to the couch and sat down beside you, pulling you close. “you seem to be forgetting something,” he teased gently, trying to lighten the mood.

you looked at him, confused. “what did i forget? oh my god, i’m sorry.”

“think about it,” soobin said, a playful smile on his face.

“just tell me already,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice.

“no, i won’t. guess it,” he teased, his tone light.

but instead of laughing, you felt a surge of irritation. everything felt overwhelming—the stress of school, the weight of your problems, and now soobin’s playful teasing. it was too much.

“soobin, just stop,” you snapped, your voice harsher than you intended.

he blinked, taken aback by your sudden outburst. “what’s wrong?”

“everything!” you burst out, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i’m stressed, i’m exhausted, and i can’t handle it anymore! and now you’re sitting here teasing me like everything’s fine when it’s not!”

soobin’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly composed himself. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know you were going through this…” he said softly, his voice filled with concern.

“how would you know when you never ask?” you shot back, tears welling up in your eyes. “i’m drowning here, soobin, and you’re acting like everything’s okay!”

“i always do, love. i always ask,” soobin said, his voice breaking slightly. “but you always push me away…”

the room fell into a heavy silence, your harsh words hanging in the air. soobin looked at you with such sadness in his eyes, it made your heart ache.

“let’s talk tomorrow,” he said quietly, his voice full of hurt. “come on, let me wash you up.”

he led you to the bathroom, his hands gentle as he helped you wash away the tears and the stress of the day. you were both quiet, the tension from your argument still lingering in the air.

as he wiped your face with a towel, he finally broke the silence. “i’ll leave something for you to eat tomorrow. please eat, okay?” his voice was soft, almost pleading.

you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. after sending you to bed, he caressed your face gently, his touch tender despite everything that had happened. “rest now. i’ll leave when you’re asleep.”

you felt tears prick at your eyes again as you watched him, his caring nature only making the guilt in your chest grow heavier. you wanted to apologize, to ask him to stay the night, but the words wouldn’t come out.

soobin leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his touch full of love and understanding. “happy anniversary, love. i love you,” he whispered.

as your eyes slowly drifted shut, exhausted from crying, you felt soobin’s hand gently brush your hair back. he stayed for a moment, watching you as you fell asleep, before quietly leaving the room.

later that night, soobin found himself sitting on a bench in a nearby park, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. he pulled out his phone and called beomgyu, his voice trembling as he explained what had happened.

“give her time,” beomgyu advised after listening to soobin’s story. “she’s going through a lot, and sometimes people just need space to process everything.”

“but what if she needs me?” soobin asked, his voice laced with worry.

“she does,” beomgyu replied, “but you can’t force her to open up. just let her know you’re there for her, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

“i guess you’re right,” soobin sighed, his heart heavy.

taehyun, who had been listening quietly, chimed in. “you shouldn’t have left her alone in the first place. if you really love her, you should stay and support her.”

beomgyu frowned, disagreeing. “soobin’s here because he doesn’t want to push her too hard. he knows what she needs.”

soobin remained silent, torn between his friends’ advice. he knew they both had valid points, but he wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was.

when he returned to his apartment, he felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. he sat down on his bed, his mind replaying the events of the evening over and over.

meanwhile, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. you felt a deep sense of regret for how you had treated soobin, but you didn’t know how to make things right. the weight of your responsibilities and the stress of school had been overwhelming, and you hadn’t meant to take it out on him.

soobin had always known you better than anyone else, and it was that knowledge that made the silence between you two even more unbearable. days had passed since your argument on your anniversary, and while soobin had tried to give you the space you needed, the emptiness in his chest grew with each passing moment without you.

he missed everything about you—your laughter, your warmth, the way your eyes sparkled when you were excited. but most of all, he missed the way you made him feel like he was the luckiest person in the world just by being by his side.

one evening, as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, soobin found himself walking towards your apartment, his heart pounding in his chest. he couldn’t wait any longer; he needed to see you, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you.

when he reached your door, he hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorbell. he wasn’t sure how you would react, but he knew that he had to try. taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

a few moments later, the door opened, and there you stood, your eyes wide with surprise. you looked tired, but beautiful as ever, and the sight of you made soobin’s heart ache.

“soobin…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “can we talk?”

you nodded, stepping aside to let him in. the two of you stood in the middle of your living room, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words.

“i’ve missed you,” soobin finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve missed you so much.”

your eyes filled with tears, and you looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “i’m so sorry, soobin… for everything. i didn’t mean to push you away. i just… i didn’t know how to handle everything.”

soobin stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “you don’t have to apologize, love. i’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me the most. i should have tried harder to understand what you were going through.”

you shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “no, it’s not your fault. i was scared, soobin. scared that i wasn’t good enough, that i was letting you down… and instead of talking to you, i pushed you away.”

soobin’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed against his chest. “shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “i’m here now, and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll get through this together, i promise.”

you clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear. “i don’t want to lose you, soobin,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest.

“you won’t lose me,” soobin said firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back. “i love you, more than anything in this world. nothing will ever change that.”

you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “i love you too, soobin. i’ve never stopped loving you.”

soobin smiled, his eyes soft with affection as he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “then that’s all that matters,” he said softly. “we’ll take it one step at a time, together.”

he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i’ve been so worried about you,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “i just want you to be happy.”

“i am happy,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “as long as i have you, i’m happy.”

soobin’s heart swelled with love, and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, pouring all of his feelings into that one kiss. it was soft, sweet, and filled with all the love and devotion he had for you.

when he pulled back, he looked into your eyes, his own shining with tears. “we’re going to be okay,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “as long as we have each other, we can get through anything.”

you nodded, a small smile finally breaking through the tears. “together,” you echoed, your voice filled with hope.

soobin smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days. he pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight, as if he never wanted to let you go.

the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away. in that moment, nothing else mattered but the love you shared—the love that had weathered storms, faced challenges, and come out stronger on the other side.

and so, slowly but surely, you began to let soobin back into your life. it wasn’t easy, and there were still days when you struggled, but knowing that he was there for you made all the difference. he continued to support you, never pushing you too hard, but always reminding you that he was there whenever you needed him.

as the weeks went by, you began to feel more like yourself again. the weight of your responsibilities didn’t seem as overwhelming anymore, and you were able to focus on the things that really mattered—your relationship with soobin, your friends, and your own well-being.

and through it all, soobin remained by your side, his love for you unwavering. he never once made you feel like you were a burden, and he always reminded you of how proud he was of you, no matter what.

it was in those moments that you realized just how lucky you were to have someone like soobin in your life. someone who loved you, flaws and all, and who was willing to stand by you through the ups and downs.

“so you really cried that time?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

soobin shrugged his shoulders, trying to maintain a nonchalant air. “they’re over-exaggerating everything.”

“sure, sure,” you said, grinning.

you both laughed together, the sound of your shared amusement filling the room. soobin playfully nudged you, and you nudged him back, each of you trying to outdo the other in a light-hearted battle of teasing.

the table filled with memories of youth, all of you continued to chat and laugh, the warmth of the evening filled with shared stories and laughter, a reminder of how far you had come and how much more you had to look forward to.

as the night drew to a close, you and soobin knew that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, with love, laughter, and a bond that had only grown stronger over time. taehyun on the other hand starts noticing beomgyu fidgeting on his seat, “you good man?” he asks. “how do i look?” he asks, touching his hair. “chill dude, have you seen her around?” taehyun’s eyes roamed around the venue. “oh fuck,” taehyun whispers. “why?” beomgyu panics, “she’s here, dude.” his voice was a little loud and it had everyone’s attention. “who’s here?” kai asks. “beomgyu’s heartbreaker.” 

gyo's note: heyyy, i'm sorry i didn’t get to post yesterday, and i might change the posting schedule for alumni homecoming. this will be the last post for the week; the rest will be posted next week, starting on monday. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ i kind of had a hard time writing this bcs i haven't had a healthy relationship before (ᵕ—ᴗ—) lol, but yeah, i hope you liked it! if you made it to this part, thank you so much. you will be loved, xoxo.

✮ 2024 gyorouis, all rights reserved.

[clip-the-simp]

A Logan Holiday

Ao3 Master list

Pairing: Logan Howlett // Wolverine x mutant!fem!reader

Word count: 2,536

Cw: slight proofreading, fluff, slight angst, winter holidays, language, alcohol, talks of war (?), this really is just kinda fluffy.

Summary: The reader tried to find Logan to celebrate the winter holidays. She finds him isolating himself from the festivities but doesn’t allow him to sulk in peace.

A/N: I got the writing bug and it’s for Logan. 7 year old me should NOT have been so down bad for this man but she was. But I guess that’s what happens when you have raging parental issues. Enjoy this very out of season dribble.

The air had chilled from the winter that settled in during December. Snow dusted over the grounds of the Xavier Institute as it fell softly from the sky. Most of the children had gone home for the winter break but there were always a few that stuck around the mansion. However, even with many of the school's inhabitants gone, the halls were still lively with the holiday spirit.

Gambit along with Rouge were busy in the kitchen whipping up treats for everyone to enjoy. Their laughs could be heard from the hall as you passed which filled your heart with warmth.

Jubilee tasked herself with the responsibility to run through the mansion halls and decorat to her heart's content. She had nearly ran into you multiple times from not paying attention but it was understandable. Her and Kurt had challenged one another to see who was the better decorator. And from the look of things Jubilee was going to win this one.

Jean and Scott were busy putting up a pine tree in the massive living room. The tree towered over everyone who stood near it but that just gave ample opportunity for decorating. Scott of course took the lower branches while Jean used her abilities to fly to the top. Presents laid under the tree for everyone who stayed for the winter and it brought a smile to your face as you thought about all the love that filled the school.

Leaning against the door frame, you couldn’t help but think about how much you would enjoy spending this time with Logan but he was nowhere to be found. He had run off that morning and you couldn’t track him down. You knew he didn’t like the holidays but you wish he wouldn’t run off like he did. There was a hand suddenly on your shoulder that forced you out of your thoughts. Startled, you jumped around and found Ororo behind you. She looked just as shocked at your reaction as you were.

“Wow now it’s just me.” She reassured you with a smile. Having taken her hand off your shoulder, she returned it to her hot coffee mug that was in her other hand. You let out a sheepish chuckle as you caught yourself.

“Sorry Ororo. Been a little in my head this evening.” You leaned back against the door frame and continued watching as Jean placed the star at the top of the tree. Ororo hummed an understanding note with a nod.

“You’re worried about Logan, aren’t you?” She questioned as she took a slow sip from her drink. You gave her a weak smile at her acknowledgment. Everyone knew you were close to Logan, but no one knew just how close.

It was a one sided kinda love. The two of you had lived through the same worldly events. With every war you had found your way back to him. Although he never had noticed you. Your role was always that of a medic and since Logan never needed medical attention he had never taken notice of you. Sure there were many occasions he would bring a fellow soldier back from the battlefield, bloody and barely holding on to life, but he never stayed long. Through every war you had been there to watch him and his brother fight both on and off the field. When a war would end the two of you would part ways for the time, but war never changed and it always brought you back.

During the Vietnam war however was when you thought you lost him forever. After Logan’s brother Victor had killed a commanding officer they were sent to be executed. You knew it wouldn’t work but there was still a pain in your chest from knowing you wouldn’t see Logan again. That was until many years later when Scott had hauled Logan’s limp body into the institute which caused your heart to seize in your chest. But even with Logan being so close now you didn’t dare confuse that love you still felt for him. Not only because of your cowardice but also due to his lack of memory. There was no chance you would pursue what only you could remember of him.

So you decided to build a new. Scrubbing your memories of the old Logan for ones to make with the one standing today. He was still mostly the same gruff man you knew, but he no longer remembered what all had happened to him. With those thoughts floating though your head you shook them away to bring yourself back to the moment. Ororo looked at you with a soft smile and gentle eyes.

“How did you know?” You asked jokingly as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your smile became more stable as you straightened your posture. “You haven’t seen him have you?”

“Not since this morning. But Charles may have better knowledge of his whereabouts.” She offered before stepping through the large doorway. You watched as she settled herself down on the couch in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled and kept the room warm despite the large windows that covered most of the walls in the room.

Deciding to take Ororo’s suggestion you went to find The Professor. If you remembered correctly he and Hank had settled into the library to play chess while reminiscing on the past. Making your way there you bumped into Kurt who teleported right in front of you causing him to run into your chest.

“Oh, sorry! Gotta run! Can’t have Jubs beat me!” And with that he was gone in a flash. A chuckle left your lips as you made it to the library where you found Charles. The men sat at a table with a chest bored in front of them, but as you entered both raised their heads to look at you.

“Hello professor, I’m sorry to bother you but have you seen Logan?” Your words came out more rushed then had been intended but you were starting to get antsy. He couldn’t have just dropped off the face of the earth. All the vehicles were still in the garage so you know he was here somewhere.

“I haven’t my dear. But we both know how he gets around the holidays.” The Professor informed you with a wariness in his voice. Charles was the only one to know of your history with Logan and understood your care for the man. You let out a sigh as another attempt to find Logan failed.

“I know. But Thank you Professor, I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. See ya.” You bid farewell to the two chess players before walking to your room. It was almost driving you mad trying to find Logan. Deciding to take a break you went to your room to change and grab the gift you had for the Wolverine. You had been walking around the mansion in your sweatpants and a festive long sleeve shirt but decided it was time to take the search outside.

As you finished changing into your jeans and put on a jacket over your long sleeve you looked out the window. When looking outside you’re immediately greeted with the pond, but if you look farther you can see some of the trees that scatter the grounds, limbs bare of leaves. In one of those trees you had spotted a shadowy figure amongst its branches. There was no doubt in your mind who it was. So in a quick fashion. You laced up your shoes, grabbed the gift off your night stand, and ran out the door as you tucked it into a large inner pocket of your jacket.

The air bit at your exposed skin as you stepped out. The snow was still falling steadily to the ground as you found yourself outside. Not wanting to get your shoes to wet you formed a small disk of light particles and jumped on.

Your mutation allowed you to manipulate atoms on a subatomic level which you used to your utmost advantage. But you never used them in the ways a villain would, only ever utilizing them for shield defense or healing small injuries on others.

Maneuvering the disk under your feet you made your way over to the tree Logan resided in. It didn’t take long before you were at the base of the tree. Dissolving the light you had used leaving you standing in the snow behind Logen, you stared up at him.

Logan’s face was lit only by the full moon that hung high in the sky, casting a glow over his features. His brows were furrowed while deep in thought as he slumped over the tree limb he was perched on. You couldn’t help admiring him even if he seems upset. Taking a moment to clear your throat you began to speak.

“Mind if I join you?” You heard a grumble from the man as he registered your existence. Taking a moment to unslouch his shoulders he looked down at you .

“I just can’t seem to lose you can I?” Logan gruffed as he watched you summon another disk to lift you up into the tree. His eyes trained on your every move as you plopped down beside him on the sturdy branch.

“You have no idea.” You retorted as you let your legs swing back and forth. He raised his eyebrow at that remark which caused you to pale slightly. “Why don’t you come inside? It’s a lot warmer and you wouldn’t be alone.” You quickly changed the subject back to your mission. A slight growl left Logan’s throat as he slumped back into his previous stance.

“That’s why I’m out here, kid. I want to be alone.” His eyes became fixed on the vast yard that laid before him. The snow was building steadily over the grass as the temperature continued to drop.

“Well that’s too damn bad.” You informed him which only caused his brow to furrow deeper. His leather jacket tightened against his back as he inhaled. Logan knew you weren’t going to just leave him. No matter how mean he got or how unsavory, you stayed. He never understood why and figured he never would.

“But since you’re not going to come in,” you opened up your jacket to pull out the present. He turned his attention back to you and his eyes widened just a fraction. “here. I got you a little something.”

It wasn’t wrapped due to its odd shape but you figured he wouldn’t mind too much. As you handed it over he took a moment to examine it. On an overnight mission in Ireland Logan and yourself had found a local pub. He wasn’t too picky when it came to his whisky but you couldn’t help notice the way he enjoyed this particular brand.

So on the last day of the mission you had wandered back into that same bar and bribed the bartender to sell you an unopened bottle. You were lucky to not have been caught with the liquor on your way back into the institute.

It clicked in Logan’s head instantly as he turned the bottle over in his hands. The Amber liquid sloshed steadily around the glass as he turned it. You watched as he examined it, slowly starting to become self conscious of the gift. His silence wasn’t helping either. The cold had started to bite through your jacket causing you to pull the zipper up your neck. Your gaze fell to the ground below as you started to ramble.

“I saw how you enjoyed it while we were in Ireland so I just thought-“ you were cut off as Logan pulled you into his side. His hand rested on your waist as he brought you closer. The warmth he radiated through his own jacket soothed the chill that had begun to settle into your bones. You looked up at Logan a bit astonished and found he was already looking at you.

“Thank you.” He said simply. There was a genuine appreciation in his tone which caused your face to warm. He was so close which sent your system into overload. Your body grew hot as a spark shot up your spine from the contact.

“No problem.” You replied with a slight shake in your voice. Logan’s grip on your waist disappeared as he shuffled beside you. Too focused on the loss of contact you were startled when his jacket was draped over your shoulders. The smell of his cigars and a lingering scent of pine filled your nose. You couldn’t help tucking yourself further into the warm leather, pulling your arms through the sleeves.

“Thank you. Guess my jacket wasn’t as thick as I thought it was.” You sheepishly admitted. Logan let out a chuckle before placing his arm back around you. His other hand still gripped the bottle of Whisky.

“You should get back inside before you catch a cold.” He warned, his thumb slowly rubbing your side. You let out a chuckle before poking at his shoulder.

“I’m not leaving without you.” A smile bloomed across your face as he let out a sigh. He knew you weren’t lying when you said that. There had been many occasions you had done it before, he both loved and hated that about you. With a grumble he removed his arm from around your waist and jumped down from the tree.

“Come on then.” He said before placing the bottle of whisky in the snow and reached a hand up towards you. A look of skepticism passed over your face as your head tilted to the side.

“Are you going to catch me?” You couldn’t help but ask. There was no doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t. Logan never deliberately hurt you, except for a few times during training. But you had asked him to not hold back, so he didn’t.

“Always.” Logan reassured you with a smile across his face. The branch wasn’t too high up but it would still hurt like a bitch if you landed wrong. So with cautious movement you pushed yourself off and within seconds you were against Logan’s chest. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he held you flush to his body.

You didn’t want to let go. It felt so right being this close to him in his embrace. However you knew that moment had to come to an end. He put you down so your feet were on solid ground before turning to pick up the whisky bottle. Your grip tightened on Logan’s jacket as he began to walk toward the mansion. You summoned one last disk before gliding beside him. Hovering off the ground you were now eye level with Logan.

“I knew you’d come around.” You leaned in to elbow him, he was so easy to tease. Sure Logan had a bad temper and an even worse past, but even with his gruff exterior he was a sweet guy underneath. As much as he didn’t want to admit it. He looked over at you and placed an arm across your shoulders. Hand resting on your shoulder and giving a slight squeeze.

“Shut up.” He grumbled.

[yanderefarm]

Can I asked for Emil's hand in marriage oh wait we already have that reaction to you wanting a divorce, or realization that you had fallen out of love with him but is only staying to keep your family safe (like you try to keep up the loving but he can tell)

I think maybe he'll try to isolate you so you can only look at him and will warm up to him again?

Or to be more cruel, tell him you fell in love with someone else...

cw;; angst, hurt no comfort,

let's make emil sad as a treat.not really the yandere aspect i think you were expecting. he definitely does keep you locked on the grounds without much freedom but he can't make himself take away whatever happiness you can find.

still male reader he calls u queen bc ur his husband.

he truly shouldn't have been surprised when you fell in love with someone else. he knew in his heart you only stayed with him because of your family but all the time you spent by his side had let him get comfortable. oh he was so comfortable with you, he let you closer to him than even his own mother had been. he let someone other than her into his heart for the first time in 20 years and now you were throwing him away. it hurt. it hurt more than the worst injury he had sustained. it hurt all the more that he couldn't be angry with you. he knew he could threaten your family again, force you to love him again but he knew that would just make you hate him.

"i can allow you a concubine however you must remain married to me. if you take a female concubine and she gets pregnant the baby will become my heir. you must continue your duties as queen and your concubine will not be permitted to attend important royal events. are these terms to your liking?"

"... i almost expected you to be more emotional about this. but i suppose we were both just playing our parts in the end, huh?"

"... that's correct. any romance you might have gleamed from our relationship was just part of the farce."

"hah.. i knew you didn't have a heart. can we add the addendum that i won't be required to share a room with you anymore? I'd like to move into the queen's palace."

the pen in his hand snapped spilling ink all over the new contract you had been drafting together.

"ugh emil please don't go flying off the handle. i just want to try to quietly live my life with him.. it won't get in the way of my duties."

you talk to him so casually, if anyone else had talked like that to him they would have lost their tongue. why don't you realize how much he loves you? maybe you do, maybe you find his love disgusting. he knows he's not worth loving, his own mother abandoned him to die. it takes all his will to stay calm as he crumples up the ruined parchment and throws it away. he pulls out a fresh sheet of paper and begins writing the contract again.

"i hope you remember you're not allowed to leave the grounds without my permission. I'll be assigning you new knights as well since you'll be in a different palace."

"i suppose i shouldn't complain about the new watch dogs since you're letting me stay in the queen's palace. I'm glad you're being understanding."

"... anything my queen asks for."

he could never bring himself to say i love you, the words like acid on his tongue. this was the closest he could come to and it wasn't enough. it would never be enough.

[mymarifae]

every time someone says "an should have been vbs's leader" or "saki should have been leo/need's leader" i want to . slam my head through concrete. oh you missed the point so bad

1. the "leader" thing is kind of really fucking insignificant outside of where each group's story begins and promo materials. it doesn't mean one character is the "main character" of the group. project sekai doesn't HAVE a main character in the first place it's not that kind of story. each individual character is equally important to not only their group's story but the over-arching story of the whole game

2. leo/need's story begins with ichika because she is ultimately the one that brings them all back together. not saki. it is ichika's determination and frankly stubbornness that gets through to shiho and honami. like, saki was literally ready to give up on reconnecting with honami! (out of love and respect for her choices but like) if she was the focus leo/need would have been honami-less!! but ichika refuses to let it go. much like she refused to let go of their friendships throughout all of middle school.

when the story begins, we see ichika burnt out and hopeless. but that's only after years of trying and trying and trying and trying again to reconnect with shiho and later honami. this fandom does not understand ichika's character well . she's not meek and she doesn't back down easily she's not some like... fumbling "girlflop" she's incredibly driven and strong-willed. she lost some of that due to depression and isolation but as of leo/need's most recent arc ender she has pretty much regained her fiery spirit. she's leo/need's lead singer and MC for a reason

3. vivid bad squad's story opens with kohane because she's the only one who hasn't grown up/partially grown up on vivid street. if an or akito had been the "leader" we would have lost the magic of getting to know vivid street and its people and unique culture. it's all average every day life for them, but kohane is experiencing it all for the first time. it's only through her eyes that the audience can understand just how very special vivid street is

4. one more thing: you could say that the "leaders" represent the themes of each group and the general direction of their story arcs. vivid bad squad, among several other things, is all about improvement and growth and overcoming challenges and creating something new and finding a place to call home within a community. who better to represent that but the socially anxious newbie who never felt like she belongs anywhere and would never do anything with her life?

leo/need is about love and the ability to endure all hardships and preserve that love . it's about having a heart big enough to hope for the impossible and the willpower to make it reality. ichika, in all her hard-headed stubborn painfully persistent glory, is perfect for that.

similarly, mafuyu isn't nightcord's leader because nightcord is ultimately about healing. hope. finding a way to make life worth living again. these aren't paths he would have chosen on his own. he gave up on himself a long time ago. as did ena and mizuki, in their own ways. the best person to represent hope is the one who refuses to give up on anyone and stubbornly believes she can save them all

wonderlands x showtime is about moving forward to a brighter future and not letting the past keep you shackled in place. it's also about having lofty dreams and the selfishness to pursue those dreams. both of these things are why emu Isn't wxs's leader; she lacks that selfishness (i'm not using this word in a negative sense btw; i think being selfish can be a good thing. and sometimes being selfless is a bad one) tsukasa (and rui) has, and she often clings to the past.

and as far as more more jump and all their own themes of hope and never giving up go, of course their leader has to be minori. she brought three disillusioned, jaded ex-idols hope and reignited their passion! she's the walking embodiment of hope itself