#will this make it up for the angst yesterday

[redcherrykook]

──── ⊱ ☆ ⊰ Evidence of a criminal bond- part one

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

enemies to lovers at the detectives office

Jeon Jungkook has been your annoying coworker at the detective´s office for what feels like ages. What happens when he gets assigned as your partner against crime for seouls´s ongoing case of the masked serial killer? Will a vulcano and a tornado manage to find peace in each others chaos, while trying to catch the person responsible for the horror unleashed upon the nation?

content warning: please keep in mind this au revolves around the job as a criminal detective, therefore dealing with darker topics, including sensitive topics such as SA, m^rder, assault, robbery, blackmail, sex work, trauma, therapy.

A large portion of this work is fiction, while some aspects also have valid foundations in actual crime cases as well as psychologically related crime studies and research

further content: slow burn, angst, misunderstandings, comfort, eventual smut, trying to work it out for each other, a lot of plot/work focus, side characters such as officer Kim Namjoon and criminal psychologist Park Jimin, good ending

no taglist! - sorry for misspellings and typos!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

6:53 am

Static buzzing sounds around the entire office, a hasty jog through the chattered people and with a slam of your big leather bag to your slightly decorated desk, finally, you arrive at work.

the ordinary, bustling with people in cool blazers and coffes, couple cops and a large story board cluttered with red marker and pictures, at least that's what the countless shows make it out to be,

it wasn't like that in real life

While, surely, there are an array of different people having serious conversations, while there may the occasional cop visit, this whole, rushed overly analyzed office doesn't come close to your neat workspace.

Days mostly consist of reading through the piles upon piles of boring paperwork left by your superiors and attorneys, or investigating some string of robberies that are operated by biker gangs,

Some prostitution rings disguised as karaoke bars or massage parlors,

Nothing like a serial killer, no nothing even close has hit your very own, very organized desk in the span of your bloomed carreer

In fact, seoul hasn't seen an unpleasant visitor like that in 30 long years, three full decades

Wind rushes through the heated room as a window opens down the hall, most likely in an effort to flush out the stress that spans throughout the people- yesterdays events have left the investigation sleepless, having seen the on scene cops and crime scene investigators while passing through the door,

It was fairly easy to tell who it was,

a souless, empty glaze clouds their colorful irises- dark, deep circles making it clear that these people were there when it happened

"What the fuck did you do Hwang?"

your head shoots up, locking eyes with someone you did not wish to see right when starting your shift- with the entire department working on a serial killer case, irritated and occupied with following a majority baseless leads- the last thing you need is him.

"Thats quite the different tone from yesterday Jeon"

he scoffs, cocking his head while pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his darkwash jeans

"Yeah? Well i called you and-" he sighs, "Explicitly told you not to take the case didn't I?" you nod, irritated at his obvious anger that you knew you had absolutely no business in,

you didn't take the case, hell, you had just arrived at the office

"look, it's too early to blame your issues on me-"

"Blame?" the disbelief in his tone messes with your already risen cortisol, only deepening the wrinkles of your frown, probably prolonging the sprouting of grey hair on your scalp.

"Hwang? Jeon? You already received the order?"

The monotone voice of your superior, also known as chief, makes both of your heads turn to face him in all his pale, 6'2" middle aged glory, the suddeness creating a small Oasis of peace between the two of you, stopping your petty argument for a bit

You had now wished that this blatant, confusing misunderstanding will be easily dissolved,

"There must have been a mix up" he states, his face curling into the typical shit eating grin that is etched into his features, like clockwork, it always appeared whenever he thought he was in the right.

the bubble of hope bursts in a split second, stabbed in full force

"As partners?" you blurt out, eyes practically bulging from your skull, the absurd implication of being Jungkook's partner makes your chief sigh, nodding his head in something you can only label disappointment

"Yes. I deem both of you as highly qualified, young individuals. i'm sure i don't need to remind you how serious this is" the chief explains, the same monotone voice now sounding like a cruel joke, however the lack of sleep and evident annoyance plastered on his face doesn't allow room for further complications

As expected, it earns him a shake from Jungkook's head, looking down and taking a breath to prepare himself to complain,

You were faster,

"We will do it. Thank you chief"

your heartbeat hammers in your chest, almost making you feel sick,

It isn't solely that now, you're being responsible for this huge nation wide case,

As abstract and insignificant as it may sound, alongside that, you're facing the difficult task of working with detective Jeon

"I am relying on your ability to stay professional and not let your personal fuedes get in the way" chief gestures his fingers between the two of you, resting his droopy eyes half lidded on yours, haunted by the Terrors of the previous night as he strides off,

Looking over to you newly aquired partner, he looks back at you with a clenched jaw, meeting your tranquill gaze as he speaks,

"Unbelieveable"

11:23 pm

You find out that working with him is in fact, difficult.

15 long hours had passed since your mangled, conjoined mess of what can be roughly considered as partnership had started,

This would have been hundretfold less hair pulling without the countless complains and microagressions,

"Can you move? I can't read this"

you huff, pushing the rolling chair further to the side of your desk, creating even more of a chasm beetween your two bodies,

This reffering to the monster of a case file that had ben handed to you- consisting of every possible report, witness statement, newspaper, autopsy report, possible subject you name it,

it was there- written somwhere in the horribly unorganized pile of paperwork

It slumps down your heavy shoulders, weight down by the hope and responsibility over the country,

"I can't get a read on this bastard" he utters, shutting his eyes. The same frustration that courses through your veins also shows on him and the way he rubs his forhead with his large hands,

The issue is, surprisingly there is nothing in this everything,

"Me neither. The witness statements all contradict themselves and there isn't anything helpful in the other reports" he watches you erratically reorganize the papers for the hundreth time, humming in agreement,

While you had been sitting at this bitingly cold, empty office for the past 15 hours, analyzing every line- reading between them, speculating upon the relevancy of each syllable, on duty officers are being chased around the city like headless chicken, led by baseless tips that somehow- always end up in sheer nothingness.

Nonetheless, you had read every word, soaked up ever piece of Informationen like a greedy sponge without a filter,

Jungkook is on his third cup of coffee, stratically pacing his caffeine intake to maximise his ability to stay awake,

"The department that had this case before us were nutjobs" he says, making you let out a small laugh, a rare occasion which cuts through tension and inevitable irritation that corresponds with this unexpected partnership

A long sigh of desperation follows as you recall what you have managed to gather in the past 15 hours, recalling the possible profiling there is to make on your killer,

Witnesses all contradict each other apart from stating that the victims had been in contact with an ominous man previous to their deaths caused by the rivers ghost- that man presumably being him

"All we have is his patterns. Women, all dismembered and thrown in the river" you tell him, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest,

he nods, granting you a look,

"Very throughly dismembered it says in the autopsies, clean cuts at the right spots. That sick creep must be a surgeon or something" jungkook adds, swiping through his hair

"Yeah, or a butcher" you agree, retracting your mind to the details of the killings. There had been no traces of dna found any where on the crime scene, no hair, fingerprints even scraps of clothes- something rarely seen in murders no matter how premeditated- even if the perpetrator had worn gloves, leaving without a speck is practically impossible,

how does he do it?

Aditionally, by how meticulously dismembered the body parts were, it transmitts the notion that the killer must be experienced,

"Possibly cumpulsions? He's uncharactaristically clean" your question makes jungkook think for a second, contemplating, "i figured. But that usually implies a history of mental illness"

"Yeah, and that narrows it down if he's on file"

you pause, "We should look into that"

He hums before turning the bright screen of your pc torwards him, guiding the mouse along the pad,

"The only reliable witnisses we have are the on scene cops. Let me write a email for an interview" he whispers, prominently groaning as you pry the mouse away from his hands, rolling your eyes at him

"Let me write it, it's my pc" your voice falls into a lower grumble,

"Oh okay miss, didn't know i couldn't use your pc, partner" jungkooks lips turn into a mocking grin, you lamely tell him to shut up

he pushes himself away from the desk, sliding the rolling chair back as he releases himself from the suffocating shakles of a long shift,

"I'm leaving. Another hour of this and i'm going insane" as he puts on his thick black coat, the dim light above you flickers, without a further note, his presence leaving subsides, resulting to your solitude inside the four walls of the eceptionally empty, staticly buzzing office

Your fingers type away at the keyboard, the blue, bright light eliciting from the screen strains your exhausted eyes with all their might, in the email directed towards your loyal friends and helpers, you´re practically begging them for an interview the following day

As you finally press send, your face crashes down into your hands- fingers rubbing the crumbled remains of what once was your mascara into your skin, highlighting the lack of rest you so clearly suffer from

With the obnoxiously loud sound of heels clicking on the floor and the shutting of the floor hall doors, the department falls entirely empty,

gushes of frosting wind hit your skin upon your exit already inhaling the smoke from your freshly lit cigarette, you attempt to make the trainride home to pass in the blink of an eye by disassociating into thought, thoughts that expectedly, revolve around what you had spend the past hours of existance with,

It felt surreal, that he must be out here right when you are as well,

In the same city, inhaling the same polluted air

"This stupid woman"

Jungkook pulls into his usual spot down at the apartment block, the tall lights shining a oddly comforting, yellow glimmer on his street

His hands slam on the steering wheel, blowing out air from his puckered lips as his head falls back- final relief, while simultaneously, dreading to be back at work in a meer time of 7 hours

Reverting back to the thought of you, he curses underneath his slightly labored breath,

he doesn't hate you- at least that what he tells himself, in all rationality, his unfounded fascination with your patheticly annoying "i can do it all" attitude is precisely that, unfounded

The keys jingle between his rough fingers, revealing his dark apartment, before a very hungry- playful Doberman greets him with a jump and about a million licks to his hands,

"heeyy bam.. you hungry bro?" Bam barks and Jungkook giggles in return, throwing his coat onto the hanger while the dog strides happily torwards the empty food bowl

On the other side of town, a siren blares- red, blue lights reflect on your fogged up kitchen window as the vehicle speeds down the road,

both of you silently prayed that it wouldn't be his fault once again

[ariestrxsh]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, some fluff, some angst, mommy kink, edging, handjob, sub!virgin!matt, experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 author's note: here are parts one, two, and three to me & u. 💖 thanks for being patient with me while i took so long to get this out, and there will be a part five to this story in the near future.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: while spending time with matt, you start to find out more about his past, which leads to your first disagreement with one another.

me & u part four

"What if I came and cleaned it up for you with my mouth?" You said in a sultry tone through the phone. You smirked at Matt through the window after you watched him finish using his new sex toy, but he'd already grabbed an old t-shirt and was wiping up the mess he made.

"I'll tell you what. You can clean up the next one," he said in a breathy voice on the other end of the line. "I'd be honored," you replied, squeezing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension you were feeling.

"I'd love it if you came over, though. My dad's gone," Matt bit his lip. "What are we gonna do?" You asked him. "Anything you want," he responded. "Anything?" You wondered in a flirtatious tone. "Within reason," Matt chuckled at how dirty-minded you were.

"I'll be over soon," you replied, hanging up the phone and hurrying over to the neighbor boy's house. You let yourself in through Matt's front door, taking in all of the changes that had taken place since you'd last been over.

There were actually kitchen appliances on the counters and portraits on the wall of Matt in his younger years. You smiled, running your fingers along the frames and the glass before making your way up the staircase.

You turned the door knob to Matt's room, and as you swung open the door, he was pulling his zipper closed and still trying to catch his breath. He looked up at you and smiled. "So, what do you think of your new fleshlight?" You teased Matt.

"I think you know what I think," Matt playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you like it," you leaned up against his door frame and looked him up and down. "Like is an understatement," he said, taking his toy to his bathroom to rinse it out. "Your house is coming together nicely," you called to him from his bedroom as your eyes glossed over the new additions to his space.

"Thanks. My dad and I had a lot of time to unpack today," Matt called back to you. You sifted through a few vinyls Matt had stored on a shelf beneath his record player. "I didn't know you were a music fan," you told him. "I mean, who doesn't love music?" Matt asked, coming back into the room and studying the way you ran your dainty fingers across his music collection.

"Yeah, but you listen to really good music," you replied, taking a Led Zeppelin album off of the shelf and slipping the record into the player. Traveling Riverside Blues came through clearly on the speaker. "What can I say? I have my dad's taste," he shrugged. You picked up Matt's journal off his desk and started flitting through the pages.

"May I?" You asked, glancing up at him. "I mean, I just came on the phone with you. I don't see why you can't read my journal," Matt chuckled and reached around to rub the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

There was nothing written for the day the two of you had met, but there was an entry written for the day after. "I met my new neighbor yesterday. She's kind of a slut," your jaw dropped as you read the words on the page and peered up to look at Matt.

"Look, I know that wasn't the nicest way to put it," Matt said, walking towards you, prepared to de-escalate your anger. "Don't worry. It turns me on to be called that," your shocked expression turned to a smirk, and you continued reading the next sentence.

"She's really hot, and she seems to know what she wants. I like that about her. She's nothing like May. Who's May?" You wondered, glancing up from the leather book again. "My ex-girlfriend," Matt timidly told you.

"I didn't know you had dated anyone before," you relayed in a surprised tone. "We dated for about three years, but she's the only girlfriend I've ever had," Matt admitted to you. "Three years? Why'd you guys break up?" You wondered aloud.

There was a moment of silence before Matt answered you. "We ended things because I moved away," Matt said with a somber tone in his voice. Your stomach dropped. "So you guys broke up recently," you replied, fiddling with the leather cover. "Yeah, fairly recently," Matt said.

"So, you're not over her yet? I mean, it would be crazy if you were. It was a three-year long relationship that ended recently," You insinuated, trying to hold back the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes.

"I mean, I don't even know what it means to get over someone. I've never had to do it before," Matt said defensively. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" You narrowed your gaze at him.

"It didn't come up, and I was waiting until the right time to tell you," he answered you. "Do you still love her?" You wondered with a hurt look on your face, and Matt stood silently, staring at you for a moment.

You shut off the record player. "It's a simple question, Matthew. Are you still in love with her?" You interrogated him with a bit of anger in your tone now, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We ended things a couple weeks ago. How am I supposed to say no?" Matt asked, raising the volume of voice. "Do you guys still talk?" You wondered, taking a step closer to him.

"She texted me last night and asked me how I liked my new house. I was too high to answer her, but I texted her back this morning," Matt hesitantly admitted, shrugging his shoulder and sticking his hands in his pockets.

You didn't want Matt to see you cry, so you spun around without saying another word, bounded down the stairs, and ran out the front door. You headed for your backyard to be alone and collect your thoughts, climbing up the ladder to your treehouse as hot tears started falling from your eyes.

You knew that Matt and May weren't together anymore, but it was the fact that he still had leftover feelings for a girl he'd probably still be dating if he lived in the same state as her. Not only was he still in love with another girl, but a girl that, in his words, was very different from you.

On top of it all, you had always struggled with jealousy in relationships. Your mind raced through the worst-case scenarios. What would happen if Matt went back to visit May, or what if she traveled here to visit him? You wondered if it would change the way he felt about you.

You were wiping your tears with the back of your hand and sniffling when Matt poked his head up from under the treehouse as he followed you up the ladder. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he timidly said, looking at you with his big, blue eyes. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

You wanted to shout at him and tell him to leave you alone. You wanted to say anything to hurt him to make him feel what you were feeling. You wanted to hide behind your tough facade, secretly afraid to be vulnerable with him, but you couldn't look at him and imagine being mean to him or raising your voice at him.

"I don't want you to be in love with May," you blurted out as you started to sob again. Matt climbed into the shelter with you, his journal in hand, placing it in his lap as he sat beside you, wiping away your tears.

"It's just still fresh. That's all. It was three years, and the reason we broke up was beyond our control, but it doesn't make sense for us to be together, and now that I've met you.." Matt trailed off, rubbing your back.

"Since you met me, what?" You asked softly, lifting your head. "Well, you didn't even finish the journal entry, silly." Matt handed you his leather notebook, and despite your hesitancy to read on and hurt your own feelings worse, you opened it back up to the page you left off on.

"She's nothing like May. The more time I spend around her, the more I realize things I didn't really like about May and my relationship with her. Like how passive she was, how she always kept me guessing about how she felt about me, and the way she never disagreed with anything I said or challenged any of my beliefs," you read aloud.

"Wait, you actually like that I'm disagreeable and direct?" You asked, peering up at him, surprised because those were usually the qualities people criticized you for. "Yeah, those are my favorite things about you. It's refreshing to meet someone like you," Matt told you, looking into your eyes.

"I'm sorry I stormed off," you apologized. "I'm not upset," Matt assured you. "I just wasn't sure whether I was supposed to follow you or not."

You two sat silently for a few moments, just staring into each other's eyes, and the magnetic force between you and Matt pulled you each closer to one another until your lips were locked. The chemistry between you both when you'd kiss was undeniable, and you could each confirm that you felt it through your body language in the way your hands would wander, never being able to pull each other close enough.

"Do you wanna get high and go lay on your floor and Iisten to your records?" You asked him, looking into his blue eyes and caressing his face once you pulled back from the kiss. "Sure, but I'm only taking one hit," Matt looked at you, wide-eyed and smiling.

"That's really all you need," you smiled back at him, reaching for your stash and pulling a pre-rolled joint out of a plastic bag. You lit it up, exhaling smoke and watching it dissipate into the air.

"Do you wanna shotgun kiss again?" You asked Matt. "Shotgun kiss?" He reiterated in a confused tone. "Yeah, it's where I take a hit, and then we kiss, and I blow it into your mouth," you smirked at him. He nodded at you, leaning in as you took a drag, the cherry end of the joint glowing and crackling as you gently pulled from it.

Your lips softly brushed up against Matt's, blowing out the weed smoke as he breathed in and gave him a couple of pecks before pulling away. He exhaled, expelling the wispy, grey smoke from his lungs. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Matt laughed in between coughs.

You took a few more hits while you silently stared at the cute boy beside you. You watched as his eyelids grew heavy and the whites of his eyes turned a bit red. "Let's go check out your record collection," you suggested to Matt, nudging him in the arm and putting out the joint.

The two of you descended the ladder as the sun sank lower below the horizon, leaving behind a bright orange sky in its wake. You followed Matt's silhouette out your gate and back over the path that led to his house.

You found yourself lying on Matt's giant rug in the middle of his room while he laid his head next to yours but had his feet pointed in the opposite direction. You both stared up at the ceiling as Riders on the Storm by The Doors came through over the speaker of the record player, sounding textured and crisp.

"Can I stay the night here?" You asked Matt, peering over at him and his glazed over expression. "I don't see why not," Matt shrugged, looking at you wide-eyed. He did want you to stay the night, but he was afraid that you had certain sexual expectations about how the night would go.

"I'm not ready to have sex with you yet," Matt blurted out, searching your expression for a reaction and wondering if he was being too presumptuous by saying that. "That's okay. I understand. Could we maybe do other stuff?" You nibbled on your lip, looking at him hungrily. "I think I'd be okay with that," Matt nervously replied, nodding at you timidly.

The two of you enjoyed your highs a bit longer as The Doors' L.A. Woman album played through its track list until you were both too tired to keep your eyes open. Matt switched off the light, and you, the record player.

The two of you climbed into Matt's bed, stripping down into your underwear, nestling under the covers, and cuddling. Matt couldn't help but to get hard with your half-naked body curled up so closely to his with your nose nuzzled into his neck.

You guys heard Matt's dad pull up in his loud, rust-colored pickup truck, casting shadows across the bedroom as the headlights danced through the window. It's not that Matt wasn't allowed to have girls sleep over, but he certainly didn't think his father would approve of it, so the two of you silently decided to keep your staying the night a secret.

A couple hours later, you woke up to some movement in the bed. You figured Matt must have been tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. You listened a little more closely, and you heard soft noises and labored breathing coming from him.

It wasn't long after Matt's dad came in through the door that he trudged up the stairs and made his way into his bathroom, turning on the shower and getting ready for bed. You and Matt laid in the dark, the only bit of light pouring into the room from a nearby street lamp, and you fell asleep shortly after in each other's arms.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you caught a glimpse of desire on his face while he grinded against his pillow, desperate for relief. You watched quietly for a few minutes as he rutted into his blankets and listened as your name faintly fell from his lips. You smirked at how needy he was being.

"Need some help?" Your voice broke through his breathy whimpers. "What?" He asked, immediately stopping and acting like he'd just woken up. "Help me with what? I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, you naughty boy. Are you lying to me right now?" You moved closer to him, speaking in a low whisper while you tenderly grabbed him by his jaw. "Wanna try that again, hmm? You gonna tell me you weren't just humping your pillow?" You asked in a quiet voice.

"I'm sorry, mommy. It's so hard. It hurts," he whined in a bratty tone. You started slowly kissing Matt's neck, and you felt his body tighten against you. "I'm gonna make it feel all better," you moaned against his ear.

"My dad's asleep in the next room," Matt said quietly before letting out a stifled moan. "Makes it more hot that way, doesn't it? When it's a secret? When you have to keep your volume low? When it's risky and you could be caught if you're too loud?" You cooed, gently brushing your fingers over the fabric of his underwear, exciting him even further.

"Mmm. I dont know," he softly purred as you caressed his member. "I'll stop if you want me to. You know, so your dad doesn't hear us," you teased, whispering into his ear and delicately touching your lips to his ear lobe before kissing it. "No. Please. Keep going," he moaned quietly.

You slipped your hand into the waistband of his boxers and started running your fingers along his length while your lips moved back down to his neck. You could feel each of his veins as you lightly grazed him, testing how much teasing he could take.

He kept anticipating you wrapping your fingers around his thickness and sighing every time you didn't. "Why are you teasing so much?" He softly whimpered. You gave him a gentle squeeze, quietly chuckling at his neediness.

Finally, with his cock in your grip, you started to move your hand up and down, stroking his length while soft, delicate whimpers poured from his lips. "How do you like that, baby?" You asked in a voice just barely louder than a whisper.

"I love it, mommy. Please don't stop," he begged in a hushed volume. "Good boy," you cooed back as you started to pick up the pace a bit. "You can't finish until I tell you to," you added at the end.

He let out a long sigh. "But mommy. I'm already so close," he quietly cried. "Then you'd better get ahold of yourself," you responded in a sultry moan. He nodded at you obediently.

You couldn't tell how big he was because it was dark in the room, and you were jerking him off under his blanket, but it felt bigger than average. You noted that your fingers struggled to wrap around his girth, and your strokes felt long as you pumped his length back and forth. You couldn't wait until the day you'd get to see it.

You felt a wet warmth between your legs as you listened to the boy whimper beneath you while you continued sucking on his neck. "Mommy, please," he whispered. "Please, what?" You softly cooed against his hot skin.

"Please let me cum," he said in a strangled moan. "Not yet, baby." You smirked as you brushed your thumb over the tip, spreading around his pre-cum and eliciting more clear liquid from his sensitive slit.

"Mommy," he desperately whined, struggling to keep his volume down. "Sh, sh, sh," you whispered back into his ear while you stroked him mercilessly, admiring his facial expression that was saturated with pleasure in the dim, cool light offered by the street lamp.

His eyebrows were brought together, causing a little wrinkle between them, and his eyes were tightly closed. He caught his lip between his teeth in an attempt to muffle his pleasured sounds, which he did poorly.

You slowed down, taunting him some more. "No more teasing," Matt said in a breathy voice. "Oh. Please, mommy. Mmm. Need to - oh - need to cum so bad," Matt managed to get out in a series of broken moans and stifled whimpers.

You sped the pace back up for him, covering every inch of his cock, sending ripples of satisfaction through his body. "Please," he said once more. "Wait," you told him in a quiet, stern voice. He nodded at you with a submissive expression on his face.

You slowed down again, drawing out the process, really making him beg for it. He huffed in response. "If you wanna get an attitude with me, I'll stop and leave you unfinished," you replied, slowing the pace of your strokes.

"Mommy, please. I'm sorry. I won't get an attitude," he weakly answered, gripping your wrist to keep you from removing your hand from his dick. "Then be a good boy for mommy, okay?" You whispered, taking your free hand and tilting Matt's chin so that he was looking at you. He nodded, releasing his grasp on you.

You pumped back and forth again, fisting his cock while he started writhing under your control. "Good boy. You're doing such a good job," you cooed. Your name passed through his lips a few more times along with a few oohs and aahs.

"Mommy, please," Matt sobbed. You ignored his pleas, continuing your strokes, paying special attention to the head every time you brushed against it.

You felt him twitch against your palm, his dick begging for sweet release. Matt was so close to the edge, graciously trying to hold out just for you, but he wasn't used to waiting to cum or asking for permission to finish, but he was discovering how much he liked it.

He was so grateful when these next words left your mouth because he didn't know how much more he could take.

"You've been such a good boy. Why don't you cum for mommy?" You whispered into his ear before you went back to kissing his neck. "Yes, mommy," he pathetically whined. He'd been waiting.

You saw the muscles in his face tighten in the dim light as his cock pulsated in your hand, blowing his load into your palm. His orgasm lasted several seconds due to how much you'd edged him, and he emitted a few guttural groans before a smile overcame his expression.

"Good boy," you whispered once more, kissing his forehead. He looked up at you breathlessly with his big, blue eyes and a satisfied grin on his face.

You got up and wandered into Matt's bathroom to clean the evidence off your hands, and once you got back into Matt's bed, the two of you wrapped yourselves up in each other.

You woke up early on Wednesday to the sound of the birds chirping and the morning sun peeking in through Matt's window as it came up over the hills.

You drifted back off to sleep, your legs intertwined with his and your head buried into his chest while you listened to the sound of his slowing heartbeat as his vitals returned to normal after his climax. Soon, you and Matt were both soundly asleep again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You let out a big yawn, and you heard the cute boy beside you begin to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and your image became clearer as he adjusted to the change in lighting.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you said in a soft murmur. "Good morning, baby. You're up early," he mumbled back in his sexy morning voice. "I know. I have to work today," you told him, climbing out of bed and putting back on the clothes you'd wandered out of last night.

Matt reached for you with a pouty look on his face when he realized he wasn't going to get to see you until after your shift. You leaned in and kissed him. "How do you usually get to work?" Matt wondered out loud.

"I usually just walk. It's only a few blocks," you shrugged. "If you get back in this bed and cuddle with me for ten more minutes, I'll take you to work in the truck," Matt smiled up at you. "Deal," you replied, climbing back into bed and wrapping your arms around Matt for a few minutes longer.

"If you want to go run over to your place and get dressed for work, I'll go start up the truck," Matt offered, grinning at you. "That would be really sweet of you," you softly replied. The two of you left Matt's room, tiptoeing down the stairs and trying to stay as quiet as possible to keep from waking Matt's dad and blowing your little secret.

All your efforts were for naught when you and Matt made your way into the kitchen, realizing Matt's dad was already awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his Bible, and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Oh, good morning. I didn't realize you stayed over last night," his dad said, peering up at you both from the page, his gaze dancing between you and Matt. "Morning, Mr. Sturniolo," you timidly said, avoiding addressing the sleepover.

"Uh, hi Dad," Matt responded, reaching behind his head and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I'm gonna take the truck to go drop my friend off at work really quick," Matt said, picking the keys up off the counter.

"Why don't I come with you guys? So I can learn a little more about your friend here?" Matt's dad asked, getting up from his seat at the table and extending his arm for Matt to hand over the keys.

Matt gulped, knowing that on top of figuring out you had stayed the night, now he was also going to know what you did for work. He reluctantly forked over the keys. "I'll meet you guys at the truck in about a half hour," you said, giving Matt a quick, awkward side hug.

You couldn't get out of the situation quickly enough.

The whole time you were showering, changing into clean clothes, and brushing your hair and your teeth, you were dreading how awkward the drive over was going to be. You resented that this was only your second interaction with Matt's dad, who you really wanted to like you and approve of you.

You were afraid it would go how any other relationship you'd had went. Their parents would either outwardly not like you, judging you based on all the most scandalous things about your personality and not bothering to get to know the other aspects of you better.

Or worse, the parents would pretend to like you to your face and then would badmouth you to your partner in private, telling them how much better they could be doing and how bad of an influence you are.

You braced yourself for it all as you sauntered out the door and headed for the orange truck.

"You ready?" Matt asked as he opened the door for you. You nodded and nestled in between the two men as Matt climbed into the truck behind you.

"So, what do you do for work?" Matt's dad asked you, pulling out of the driveway. "I work in retail. It's this way," you said, trying to avoid giving too much detail about your job and pointing in the direction of the road he needed to take.

"What do your parents do for work?" His dad wondered. "My mom is a flight attendant, and my dad was a pilot, but now he works in air traffic," you responded.

"Ah, so they work in similar fields," Matt's dad nodded. "Yeah, they met at work. Fun fact, I was actually conceived on a plane," you told them both. "Shit. Sorry. That was an overshare," you said, putting your palm over your mouth once you realized you'd just sworn in front of Matt's very Christian dad.

He didn't laugh or find your quirkiness charming. Matt looked at you wide-eyed, knowing your humor wasn't going to land well with his father.

You continued giving him directions to your retail job, which wasn't totally a lie, and he cleared his throat and gave Matt a look when the three of you pulled into the parking lot of a sex shop. Matt stepped out of the truck to let you out.

"Well, this has been fun," you said sarcastically, feeling the thick tension in the air as your feet hit the pavement. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Sturniolo. Matt, I'll call you on my lunch break," you told him, leaning in and giving him a tender peck on the lips.

You could feel how warm and red your face was as you turned around and headed for the front door of your job. Your coworker, Carly was at the register, giving you an inquisitive look and watching the scene play out.

"Did your cute neighbor boy take you to work?" She asked, giving Matt a little subtle wave, and he waved back, giving Carly a shy smile.

"Yeah, and his very Christian father after he caught me sleeping over. Oh, and he didn't know I worked in the adult entertainment industry until about a minute ago," you added, looking at Carly with a deer in headlights look.

"Oh. That sounds like a very awkward morning," she said, trying to contain her laugher. "It's fine. You can laugh. It is comical, really. I just hope he's not in the truck, telling Matt that I'm a harlot and trying to convince him to stop hanging out with me," you expressed to Carly, tears forming in your eyes.

Her face softened, and she took on an expression of pity. "I'm so sorry. Come here. You know, no matter what his dad says about you, I'm sure Matt's still gonna like you," she said, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back while she comforted you. You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye before it had a chance to fall. "Thank you for saying that."

Meanwhile, in the rusty-colored Dodge Dakota, your worst fears were unfolding. "Matt, what on earth are you thinking? Running around with a girl like that?" He asked angrily as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dad-" Matt started to say, but the older man cut him off. "She works at a place called Temptations. You don't see anything wrong with that? You think God wants you canoodling with a girl like that," he replied, giving Matt a somber look.

"A girl like that? What does that even mean? There's so much more to her than that," Matt defended you, raising his voice a bit. "Son, just be careful. Girls like that are trouble. I don't know if this is some kind of overcorrection because you're upset about May-" Matt's dad started.

"How dare you bring up May?" Matt glared at his father. "I'm just saying, son. You and May made sense together," his dad replied, shrugging. "Actually, dad. We didn't. May and I stayed together for so long because neither one of us wanted to admit we were incompatible," Matt scoffed. "What?" Matt's dad asked, completely taken aback by his kid's comment.

Matt and May's relationship was picture perfect on the outside. They didn't argue, they didn't complain about one another to their friends and families, and everyone envied what they had. Everyone thought they'd be together forever, including the two of them.

"I know this new girl is completely different from May. She's not a Christian. She's loud and domineering. She's aggressive, and she's overbearing. And she's honest. Maybe even too honest. She always says what's on her mind even if other people aren't going to like it. And I don't love her despite those qualities. I love her because of those qualities," Matt huffed, silencing his dad.

The two men sat quietly beside each other in the truck, mulling over what the other had said. Matt's dad was a lot of things, but unsupportive wasn't one of them.

A few more moments passed before his father finally spoke up. "Fine. Invite her over for dinner. I want to get to know the girl you love."

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[xo-hoon]

25 Days Later — p.sh

Continuation of 25 Days Later

pairing: ethical serial dater!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, fake to real relationship trope

synopsis: For Park Sunghoon, relationships should remain uncomplicated. With life already filled with complexities, he believes that dating should only last for twenty-five days—just enough time to enjoy each other's company before parting ways. And there’s Yoon Y/n, who was driven by her curiosity rather than romance, finds herself intrigued by Sunghoon's unconventional plan, prompting her to join him for these twenty-five days. Yet, beneath their playful interactions, an unpredictable tension hints that things may not be as simple as they appear.

word count: 4k

warnings: EXTREME FLUFF! hoon’s a sweet heart (i’m goona cry), mentions of accidents, someone died, hoon being jealous, very very very slight angst. Grammatical and typographical errors ahead!

a/n: It’s finally done! I had a lot of troubles writing this fanfic and experienced many, MANY (MANY) breakdowns throughout the process, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

I really really hope that ya’ll would enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. 🫶🏻

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

here you go, bae @zara2318 🧎🏻‍♀️

Day 25

If Jake and the others were to see him now, they'd probably laugh. He was hardly recognizable as the Park Sunghoon they knew. The old him wouldn't have bothered chasing after a woman who clearly didn't want him anymore. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't that simple for you to break things off.

Fine, maybe he was being arrogant. But you had shared something special with him.

Why would you do that if he meant nothing to you?

No, he refused to believe that what happened between you two was just a fleeting moment brought on by the storm.

And you weren't the type to take such a bold step without good reason. You weren't someone who'd make such a move lightly. He couldn't accept that he was just a passing fascination, a curiosity you explored only to move on to the next person. No, it wasn't that shallow.

Alright, maybe it was just his pride speaking, but he wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

Today, he planned to convince you to give things another chance.

He just hoped you'd agree.

His brow furrowed as he spotted a black sedan parked in front of your house. Slowly, he pulled up beside the unfamiliar car and got out.

Just then, he saw you coming out, laughing with Jiwon, who was following behind. Your smile faded the moment you noticed him, and for a brief second, silence filled the air.

"Hey, man," Jiwon finally broke the tension. "How's it going?"

Fuck off.

He could've said that. But he didn't and just glanced at him briefly and gave him a nod, and then looked back at you.

"Are you heading somewhere?" he asked, despite his racing heart.

"I'm just walking Jiwon to his car."

Sunghoon nodded. "I'll wait for you."

"Ah, I actually have a client waiting on the other side," you explained, referring to the funeral home.

Your voice and gaze pleaded with him.

"Just a quick chat. Five minutes maximum, please,”Sunghoon urged, watching as you considered.

"Alright," you finally agreed. "I'll just walk Jiwon to his car."

"Catch you later, man," Jiwon said, giving a friendly nod.

Sunghoon didn't go inside. Instead, he waited by the door, observing your interaction with Jiwon. He couldn't hear what you were saying, but he saw you laugh at something, and a pang of jealousy hit him.

Why was it so hard for him to see you happy with someone else?

His fists clenched and his jaw tightened when he saw Jiwon give you a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek before getting into his car. You stood there, watching as he drove off. Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew he had no right to feel jealous and needed to get his emotions under control.

You turned to him at last. "Let's go inside," you said, leading him in.

"I thought we already cleared things up yesterday?" Your face was expressionless, the opposite of how you'd looked while talking to Jiwon, and that irritated him even more.

"So, is he the one you're replacing me with?" he asked, his voice tense.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And you knowing the answer to that question is important because?"

Sunghoon swallowed hard. "Y/n, I want another chance." You raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. "I believe what we had was something special. You're definitely not like the other girls I've dated."

You crossed your arms. "And?"

"And you said you appreciated honesty. If you're truly being honest with yourself, you’d recognize that what we had was unique."

"Can you just get to the point?" you said, your impatience showing as you glanced at your watch. "I have a client waiting."

Under different circumstances, you might have laughed at the idea of your so called ‘client’ really waiting for you as if it would grow frustrated when you took too long. But he seemed anxious about it and his words spilled out. "I want another shot. Another twenty-five days with you." You paused, staring at him, before letting out a soft, humorless laugh, your eyes starting to water.

"You really are a hopeless case, Park Sunghoon." You looked down, discreetly wiping your eyes. "Just go home. I need to get back to work."

He reached out to grab your hand, trying to stop you from leaving. "Wait, you haven’t given me your answer yet."

"Seriously?" You rubbed your face in exasperation, then you locked eyes with him, tears welling up. "No, Sunghoon. My answer is no. And please, stop coming back here." You stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

You were still feeling down while working on the body of a forty-two-year-old woman who had died from bone cancer. She had implants in her breasts and buttocks that needed to be removed, making the task labor-intensive, which was fine with you. You preferred to stay busy at that moment rather than let your mind wander back to Sunghoon. You were irritated enough as it was.

You sang along to an Ariana Grande song while your hands were busy dressing the body in a white gown.

"Leave that, Y/n," your mother said as she entered the preparation room. It seemed she was going to take care of the remains of a child who had died in a car accident. "Sunghoon is waiting for you at home."

Your expression soured further, and you continued working. You started applying makeup to your client’s face. "You could have just sent him home. We talked earlier, and there's nothing left to discuss."

"Is there a problem between you two?" She began gathering supplies to clean the body.

"I don’t know about him," you replied.

"Have I mentioned that he’s been here almost every day for the past few days?" she said. "He says you aren’t answering his calls or texts. He’s really worried about you."

You grimaced at the mental image of him. "He probably can’t accept that I broke up with him before our twenty-five days were up."

"Why did you break up so quickly, anyway? Didn’t you enjoy his company?"

You sighed and adjusted the skirt of the body. "Mom, can we talk about this later? I feel like it’s disrespectful to our clients to gossip about that jerk."

Your mother chuckled softly. "Alright, we’ll talk later. I just need to finish this up."

After a few minutes, you completed your task. "I’ll be in the office," you said before leaving her in the preparation room. You tidied yourself up and headed to your mother’s office, only to find your father there.

"Oh, too bad. Sunghoon just left."

You secretly frowned. You thought you would need to wait over an hour before facing the conversation about him. Apparently, you didn’t need to wait for your mother to finish after all; here was yet another person ready to pry.

“We already talked,” you said while booting up your laptop, hoping that if you acted busy, your dad wouldn’t ask too many questions.

After a brief silence, you glanced over at him. You met his intense gaze, as if he were scrutinizing you.

“What?” you asked, a bit anxious.

He smiled. “I always say that ‘life is short’ is the most valuable lesson we learn from this business. But there’s something even more significant.”

Ah, yes. You found this kind of discussion preferable. You would rather engage with a philosophical funeral director than a curious father.

“What’s the more important lesson?” you inquired.

“For me, realizing that life is short has taught me not to hold back my feelings. It’s vital for me to express my love for you all. I don’t want to look back with regret for not telling you how much you matter to me.”

You had heard this from him countless times before, but it was alright—even if it was repetitive, as long as the conversation didn’t veer towards the guy you dated for twenty-five days.

You nod to keep the conversation going. “Your mom, since life is short, prioritizes the eternal life in heaven, which is why she's religious.” He smiled. “Daehi enjoys his life and pursues her dreams because she understands her time is limited.” You shrug. “We’re both the same.”

Your father shakes his head. “That’s not all you’ve learned.” He moves closer to you. “You’re hesitant to commit fully to anything—a job, a person—because you fear you’ll be miserable when they’re gone.”

You blinked, feeling a lump in your throat. Clearing your throat, you joked, “Dad, why didn’t you tell us you took Psychology class?”

“I think this explains why you often change jobs, courses, and interests; you’re reluctant to fully commit to just one. Why didn’t you feel pain when your relationships ended, Y/n? Was it because you didn’t really love them? You never allowed yourself to get attached because, deep down, you believed they would leave you eventually.”

The memory of your first client on the embalming table surfaces, the mother in tears over the dreams that were lost with the death of her eldest child.

But what stuck in your mind was the image of the deceased man's girlfriend, nearly beside herself with grief. Misery shone in her eyes. You later learned that she was pregnant at the time. You didn’t want to experience that kind of pain. If love could end like that, you wanted no part of it.

Your eyes burned with emotion. “Isn’t it natural for anyone to avoid pain, Dad? It’s survival of the fittest, right?”

Your father stepped closer and gently stroked your hair. “But living without love isn’t really living at all, my child. And pain is a part of love. We must accept that.”

Well, all your reservations about loving seemed pointless now. Despite your previous reluctance to love fully, it happened anyway. You fell in love.

While you were busy enjoying your dates and casual conversations, you were completely unaware that the man had already took your heart. The irony was that you, who feared falling in love, ended up in love with someone who couldn’t truly love back. For Sunghoon, relationships lasted only twenty-five days; after that, all feelings expired, and it was time to move on to the next.

That was just how it was.

That's why you avoided the guy; you realized you were already in love with him. You couldn’t even bear to imagine a line of people like Yuri waiting to catch Sunghoon after your breakup. The thought of him with someone else was unbearable.

And now, it was happening—the very thing you feared: getting hurt.

Ah, damn it. This was all Sunghoon’s fault!

Is it possible to un-fall for someone? If only it were that easy.

Day 26

He roughly ran his hands over his face, even tugging at his hair in frustration. "Fuck! Is karma getting back at me?"

He looked up, staring blankly at the ceiling as he recalled Y/n's beautiful face-the sweet smile, the lively laugh, the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, and that night…

After that, he remembered what you looked like the last time you spoke—how you held back your tears, the sadness in your eyes, and the words you said that pierced his heart...

"You really are a hopeless case, Park Sunghoon. Just go home. I need to get back to work."

"No, Sunghoon. My answer is no. And please, stop coming back here."

Why is he such a mess?

"I want another shot. Another twenty-five days with you."

That’s what he requested from you...

Who would be pleased with that!?

He’s such an idiot! That’s not what he truly wants from you. He doesn’t want just twenty-five days; he wants twenty-five thousand days with you. Or even better, twenty-five thousand lifetimes with you.

It seems he’s finally discovered a love similar to that of his parents.

Sunghoon no longer cares about what his friends think. He’s ready to admit to anyone that he’s given in and can’t make any more excuses: he loves you wholeheartedly.

He chuckles at himself now. Why was it so difficult to accept that before? Is there anything wrong with falling in love with a beautiful, kind, and intelligent woman?

Speaking of you, he needs to talk to you and share his feelings before you completely turn away and choose a conceited lawyer instead.

He saved his work and shut down his computer. He quickly took a shower and got dressed. And within minutes, he was driving. If he could, he would push his car to the limit just to reach you faster.

He was eager to see you.

He was almost there. The sign for Yoon’s Funeral Service was in view, and he was about to see the woman he missed so much.

He pressed the gas pedal harder, lost in thoughts of her, when suddenly a motorcycle cut in from the side. Sunghoon swerved to avoid it, but a streetlight appeared in front of him. Before he could react again, his car crashed into it. A loud crash filled his ears as he lost consciousness.

—

You wouldn’t have noticed that you were staring at the picture of you and Sunghoon on your phone if you hadn’t heard Daehi calling out to you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, immediately feeling anxious at the sight of your sister entering your room.

“Sunghoon had an accident, just down the street. He’s in our morgue right now, he—“

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over you.

You weren’t able to let Daehi continue what she was saying as you screamed and rushed down to the funeral home below, nearly tripping in your haste, barely able to see the path through your tear-filled eyes.

This was the nightmare you had feared for all these years.

You didn’t bother putting on a mask or coat; you just ran to the preparation room. There was indeed someone on the embalming table, covered with a white sheet stained with a lot of blood.

You froze near the door and broke down in tears.

A fellow mortician was preparing instruments at the sink on one side of the room and glanced over at you.

“Y/n?” they called out.

You forced yourself to speak. “Just… just give me five minutes, please, Chae.” The employee looked puzzled, but you didn’t notice due to the pain overwhelming you. “Okay, sure?” Chae replied before leaving you alone.

You stepped closer to the body. “You idiot! Damn you, Sunghoon! You made me fall in love with you, and now you’re just gonna leave me!? Again?! You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you I love you…” Despite your trembling knees, you approached the corpse, wanting to see Sunghoon one last time. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pulled back the white sheet.

Your tears hung suspended in the air as you took in the sight of the cadaver: dark skin, a crooked nose, a large face, and a scar on one cheek.

“Y/n?” you heard a familiar voice call out.

You turned and saw Sunghoon standing in the doorway. He had bandages on the side of his forehead and one cheek, looking at you in surprise.

You redirected your gaze back to the body before looking at the young man again. “This isn’t you.”

“It’s not,” he responded.

Daehi suddenly appeared next to him, chuckling as she scratched his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, right? I was saying that Sunghoon got into an accident and is in the morgue because he wanted to help.”

You stared at your sister in shock for a moment. When you finally understood what had happened, your legs gave way beneath you.

God, forgive me for all the sins I’ve committed….

You felt the urge to blame her for the emotional chaos she caused you, but she wasn’t at fault. That was what your sister had meant to say, but you hadn’t allowed her to finish. So, it was partly your fault.

You glared at Daehi. “Why do you always have to make your sentences so unclear? You made me panic.” You wiped your tears and tried to regain your composure.

You walked out of the preparation room, brushing past the two by the door.

You ran into Chae, who seemed ready to start embalming the body you had mistaken for Sunghoon. She looked at you in surprise, likely noticing your puffy eyes and red nose, but she didn’t say anything.

“Thanks, Chae,” you managed to say as you continued outside. You intended to go home, lock yourself in your room, and just like your sister had suggested, you wanted to cry properly.

But you didn’t even make it to the entrance of the funeral parlor. You were still in the casket showroom when someone grabbed your arm.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted you as you turned around.

A surge of emotions hit you all at once—relief that he wasn’t actually dead, embarrassment, sadness, fear…

But you let your annoyance be the only thing he saw.

“What?” you snapped, irritated both from the embarrassment and from realizing how much you actually love him.

A faint smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth, and you noticed for the first time the dried blood on it.

“I’m giving you the chance to say everything you wanted to say to me. That way, when I really do die, you won’t have any regrets—Ow!” He flinched as you punched him in the shoulder.

“You’re so annoying!” you shouted, hitting him repeatedly.

Sunghoon caught hold of your arms to stop you “Come on, have some mercy. I just got out of an accident. I’ll probably have more bruises from you than from the crash.”

You felt a bit sorry for him, but you kept up your glare as he looked ready to burst out laughing at any second. “And you still had the audacity to joke around? Do you think this is funny? I nearly had a heart attack earlier, you jerk!”

Sunghoon pulled you into a hug, and you couldn’t help but relax, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace. "I'm so, so sorry, Y/n. We never meant to scare you," he said softly.

You started to cry against his chest. But this time, it was a tears of pure relief. He held you close, then gently kissed the top of your head. And just like that, all your hurt seemed to dissolve. It felt almost magical.

He raised his hand in a gesture of apology. "I’m really sorry. Scaring you was never our intention."

You reached up, lightly touching the bandage near his eyebrow. "What happened? How did you end up in an accident?"

"I was hurrying to get here," he said. "But don’t get me wrong, I was careful—until a motorbike suddenly cut me off. I swerved to avoid him but ended up crashing into a pole. Luckily, the airbag deployed, so I only got a few scrapes. And guy on the motorbike made it past me safely," he went on. "But he was being reckless, and he ended up cutting off another vehicle. This time, he got hit by a bus."

You closed your eyes, silently praying for the soul of the person left in the morgue, while also thanking the heavens for Sunghoon’s safety. You didn’t even want to think about what you would have done if he hadn’t made it.

"I… I was so scared," you whispered, voice shaky. "I thought… I thought you were gone."

He hugged you tighter, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. Looking up, you saw Sunghoon’s eyes were closed, as if he was savoring having you in his arms. A warm, sweet feeling filled your chest.

"I’ve been dying to do this again; dying to be with you again," Sunghoon whispered, his voice soft and intimate. His eyes opened, and his gaze seemed to pierce right through to your soul. "Why did you suddenly go to Jeju?" he asked, a hint of sulk in his voice.

"I couldn’t say no. It was Jiwon’s sister’s birthday celebration, and she’s my friend, too. Plus, I thought I needed some space to think about us. But I promise, I already turned Jiwon down. Again."

"Good." He smiled. "For days now, my mind’s been filled with nothing but Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. Honestly, I got scared—I thought I was going crazy."

A smile crept onto your face. "Oh? Haven’t you always been a bit crazy?"

"Only for you." He reached out and gently brushed your cheek.

"I’m sorry. The words that came out of my mouth yesterday were wrong. I didn’t mean that I wanted just another twenty-five days with you; I want twenty-five lifetimes with you, Y/n. I love you."

You could only stare into his handsome face, his eyes shimmering with sincerity. There was no way you could say no to him.

"I’d like that, too. Twenty-five lifetimes with you," you replied, making him smile.

"Hold on." He kissed the top of your head before pulling away, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"What’s that for?" you asked, a bit confused.

He started typing on his phone. "I have a letter here that I meant to read to you yesterday. But when I got so annoyed when I saw you with that Jiwon guy that I completely forgot about it.

You chuckled at the sarcastic mention of your former suitor. "Okay, let’s hear it."

"Here it goes." He cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he read. "To my lovely mortician," he began, making you smile. "You brought life to the living dead that I was before I met you. Now, here I am, dying to be yours completely because I simply can’t live without you."

You laughed loudly. "God, Sunghoon! That’s so cheesy!" You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Wait? I’m not finished? I still have a closing line?” he sassily said but laughed as he wrapped his arm around your waist. He looked into your eyes, smiling as he read the final part of his so-called letter. "I’m head over heels, dying for you. Yours truly, Park Sunghoon."

Before you could laugh out loud, he kissed you, silencing your supposed laughter with a passionate embrace that made you melt into him. You moaned softly and kissed him back, realizing how much you missed him… and how much you missed this.

"I love you to death, Yoon Y/n," he whispered against your lips before pulling you into another deep, heated kiss. You clutched the fabric of his shirt, letting your kisses express everything you couldn’t put into words.

Day 803

You looked beautiful in his arms, still catching your breath from what you had just done, but happiness radiated from your face. You reached out and pinched his cheek playfully. "Wow, you’re so good at this!" you gasped. "How did you become such an expert so quickly? Have you been practicing with someone else?"

"No one else. It’s way more enjoyable when I’m with you," he replied, planting a kiss on your lips. "Come on, let’s get up."

You pulled him up from the parachute you had just been lying on. Yes, it was indeed a parachute. You had just finished skydiving. It was your third monthsary when you first introduced him to that extreme sport, and he had become so addicted to the thrill of flying that here you were again for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Life with you—his girlfriend, felt like skydiving—exhilarating, exciting... it was the adrenaline rush of his life.

So much had changed for Sunghoon since you officially became a couple twenty-five days after you first met. Most importantly, he had trashed out his 25-day dating method. People he knew were amused, confused, or even laughed at him, but he didn’t care about their opinions anymore. What mattered to him was that he had seen the light. His life had never been this fun.

Your relationship wasn’t perfect—you had disagreements and problems like anyone else—but you always managed to overcome them. He was confident that you could face anything that came your way because you both had each other's support and love... and, of course, the support of your families.

Now, it felt like he was ready for even more days of joy with you.

Sunghoon sighed contentedly with a smile, pulling you closer to him and kissing your forehead. "I love you." You grinned but didn’t have a response.

"Look over there." He pointed at something flying in the distance.

"Hey, there’s a drone!" you exclaimed. "I wonder if it captured our flight!"

He just smiled at you.

Before long, the drone flew up to you and stopped right at your feet. "What’s this?" you asked, narrowing your eyes as you shot Sunghoon a doubtful look. You noticed a small black coffin taped to the top of the device.

"Just take a look," Sunghoon replied casually.

Together, you both removed the tape from the drone, and then he handed you the small box. Your eyes widened as you examined it. "What now, Park Sunghoon?" you exclaimed, feeling a surge of nerves. It seemed you already guessed what he was planning. "Does your proposal really have to have a Halloween theme?"

He laughed. "What do you mean ‘proposal’? Just open the coffin and see for yourself. You’re so quick to assume, you know that?” he laughed as you playfully punched his arm and slowly opened the tiny box.

"It’s ring!" you squealed when you saw what was inside. You read from the small note attached to the ring.

I’m dying to spend the rest of my life with you.

"Oh my god, Sunghoon, you’re so annoying!" You lightly punched his shoulder.

He cupped your face in his hands, and you felt a rush of butterflies in your stomach from the nerves. You smiled, even though he could tell you were on the verge of tears. He let the words pour out with all the overwhelming emotions inside him. "You’ve brought my faith back to life. You’ve revived my long-lost dreams of finding a love like my parents had." He sighed. "I’m completely down bad dead in love with you. Please m-marry me, Yoon Y/n."

Tears filled your eyes. With love shining brightly, you replied, "Okay, fine. I’ll marry you. I couldn’t say not to a poor thing, can’t I?"

He laughed and wrapped you in a tight embrace, holding the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1880 - labyrinth of my heart

chapter summary: When walking the streets of Chicago he spots you across the street, so real, so alive. Logan takes this as a second chance; but fear slowly slithers up, making him wonder if he'll lose you all over again.

word count: 9.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: first, i want to say thank you so much for the support and love for this series! this is way shorter than the first chapter, only because i wanted the ending to feel abrupt to hopefully make it feel more realistic. anyways, i'm super excited for next chapter since it's a concept i haven't ever really done before. but for now, enjoy this while it lasts :)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, character death

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

Logan left New York City after you died, going back to Victor who told him exactly what he expected to hear, ‘you shouldn’t have fallen in love,’ and ‘the only people we can trust is each other’.

The Civil War had begun seven years after your death as he and Victor fought for the North for four whole years. There was one thing he always kept with him, the ring he bought for you, that he never got to use. It stayed in his pocket at all times, never leaving, always there.

He had been doing the same thing he was doing before he met you, moving around the country, never staying in a spot for too long, doing odd jobs to stay afloat.

Logan found himself in Chicago, walking along the sidewalk, the faint sound of a train in the distance. The air was heavy with the scent of coal smoke, the city bustling with life in the late afternoon. Men in long coats and women in modest dresses hurried past him, some tipping their hats in his direction as he walked by. It was just another city to him, another place he would pass through on his way to nowhere in particular.

It had been 26 years since you died. Twenty-six long years, but to Logan, it still felt like yesterday. The weight of your loss hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had only grown heavier. Every town, every face he saw, reminded him of you in some way. That soft smile you always wore, the way you’d brush your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. He kept your memory alive in the smallest of ways. The ring he’d never had the chance to give you stayed in his pocket, its presence a constant, painful reminder.

He walked without a destination, his mind lost in the past as his feet carried him down the streets of Chicago. The city had a pulse of its own, far different from the quiet life in New York where you’d once lived, where you had died in his arms. He hadn't felt truly alive since then—just going through the motions of life, the decades slipping by as if time itself didn’t matter.

As Logan neared a small schoolhouse, something caught his eye. A group of children were gathered outside, their laughter echoing through the street as they played. But it wasn’t the children that caused Logan to stop. It was the woman standing among them, her smile bright as she helped one of the younger boys tie his shoe. The world around him seemed to blur, fading away as his gaze locked onto her.

It was you.

Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. He blinked, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but there you were, the same face, the same gentle presence. You looked exactly as you had all those years ago—maybe a little younger, maybe a little different, but unmistakably you.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you laugh with the children, completely unaware of his presence. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. You were dead. He had been there. He had held you as you took your last breath, felt the life leave your body. And yet, here you were, as if the last 26 years had never happened.

Logan’s feet moved on their own, pulling him closer to the schoolyard. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry. His mind raced with a thousand questions. How could this be? Was it some kind of dream? A cruel trick?

But the closer he got, the more real you became. You were wearing a simple dress, your hair tied up in a way he hadn’t seen before, and yet everything about you felt so familiar. The way you carried yourself, the warmth in your eyes as you spoke to the children—it was all you.

“Excuse me, miss,” he called out, his voice rougher than he intended.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his for the first time, and Logan felt his heart lurch. It was like being thrown back in time—like the years between this moment and the day you died had vanished. You looked at him with a polite curiosity, but there was no recognition in your eyes. No flicker of memory. To you, he was just a stranger.

“Yes, can I help you?” you asked, your voice soft, kind.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain what was running through his mind? How could he tell you that he had loved you, that he had lost you, and that now—somehow—you were standing in front of him again?

“I... I thought I knew you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. He didn’t trust himself to say more. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the ring in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever.

You smiled, but it was the smile of someone trying to be polite, not of someone who knew him. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” you said. “I’m Y/N. I’m the schoolteacher here.”

Logan swallowed hard. Of course, you wouldn’t remember. You had no idea who he was, no memory of the life you’d lived before. To you, this was just another day, another moment. But to Logan, it was everything. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You were here, alive again, but you weren’t his Y/N. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m Logan,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, his heart aching in a way that felt both familiar and new.

You nodded, offering another warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. Was there something you needed?”

Logan shook his head slowly, still reeling from the shock of seeing you again. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I... I just thought you looked like someone I used to know.”

You tilted your head slightly, a curious look in your eyes. “I get that sometimes. Chicago’s a big city, but it can feel small.”

Logan nodded, though his mind was far from this moment. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of miracle—a second chance. But what could he do with it? Could he approach you, tell you everything? Or would that only drive you away?

Before he could say anything more, the school bell rang, and the children started to gather their things. You glanced back at the sound, then looked at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I have to get back to my class. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Logan nodded, his throat too tight to respond with words. He watched as you turned and walked back toward the schoolhouse, his heart aching with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

For the first time in 26 years, Logan felt hope stir in his chest. You were here. You were alive. And even if you didn’t remember him, even if you didn’t know who he was... he couldn’t walk away. Not this time.

---

Logan stayed near the schoolyard most afternoons, hidden just enough not to draw attention, watching you from a distance. It felt strange, almost painful, standing there, knowing you had no idea who he was. Every time you emerged from the schoolhouse with Ida, another schoolteacher, chatting and laughing, the urge to approach you tugged at him. But fear held him back—fear that you’d think he was insane, or worse, that you’d reject him outright.

He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets, feeling the cool metal of the ring press against his palm. It had been with him through wars, across states, through lifetimes. And now, here you were, alive again, and he still didn’t know what to do with it.

It was absurd, the way his heart raced just from seeing you walk down the street. How after all these years—after so much pain—hope could sneak its way back in. This wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Logan wasn’t the type to believe in magic or miracles, but what else could explain this?

As he lingered, the school bell rang, signaling the end of another day. Children poured out of the building, laughing and running. A few hung on your arms as you walked them down the steps, their chatter filling the air.

Logan shifted from foot to foot, nerves prickling along his spine. Just talk to her, idiot. You’ve been through worse.

But when you stepped into the street, Ida at your side as usual, the words died in his throat.

“Y/N, you coming for dinner at my place tonight?” Ida asked, tucking a stray curl beneath her bonnet.

You smiled, brushing your hands on your skirts. “Can’t tonight, but I’ll stop by tomorrow. The kids wore me out today.”

Ida chuckled. “You’ll turn into an old maid before you’re thirty at this rate.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laugh was warm. Logan felt the sound of it settle deep in his chest—like an old memory coming back to life. It was a laugh he hadn’t heard in 26 years, and it took everything in him not to run to you right then and there.

As you and Ida turned the corner toward the tenement, Logan followed at a distance. His heart hammered against his ribs. He just needed a moment, a chance to say something—anything.

Finally, the two of you paused outside the building. Ida gave you a quick hug before heading upstairs, leaving you alone on the stoop. You stood there for a moment, adjusting your shawl against the evening chill.

This is it. Now or never.

Logan forced his feet to move, crossing the street toward you.

You looked up as he approached, a little surprised but not alarmed. “Logan, wasn’t it?”

His throat felt tight, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Logan.”

You smiled softly, the same kind smile that had haunted his dreams. “What brings you by?”

He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “I... I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but there was no fear, only curiosity. “About what?”

Logan shifted his weight, his hands tightening around the edges of his coat. The ring in his pocket seemed to burn against his skin, a reminder of everything unsaid.

“I... You remind me of someone,” he admitted, voice low. “Someone I lost a long time ago.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze steady but gentle. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence between you—heavy, charged with the weight of all the things Logan couldn’t say. You didn’t know him, didn’t know what you’d meant to him in another life, but standing here, so close to you again, it felt like the world had tilted back into place.

“You... wanna walk for a bit?” Logan asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Something in his expression must’ve stirred your kindness, because you nodded. “Alright.”

The two of you started down the sidewalk together, the city humming around you. Logan kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, fingers brushing the ring again and again like a talisman.

“So, how long have you been in Chicago?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Logan shrugged. “Not long. Just passing through.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s a good place to get lost in for a while.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm after that—small talk, nothing too deep. Logan told you bits and pieces about his travels, careful not to reveal too much. He learned that you’d moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, taking the teaching job because it felt right.

“I’ve always liked working with kids,” you said with a soft smile. “There’s something... hopeful about it, you know?”

Logan nodded, though hope had been a foreign concept to him for a long time. But walking beside you now, listening to your voice, he felt something stir in him—a flicker of warmth he thought he’d lost forever.

As the evening deepened and the sky turned a dusky purple, you reached your building again. You stopped on the stoop, turning to face him.

“Thank you for the walk,” you said, your smile gentle. “It was nice.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still—like the universe had bent just enough to give him this moment with you. And even though you didn’t remember him, didn’t know the history you shared, Logan knew he couldn’t let you slip away again.

“Y/N...” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head, waiting.

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “Can I see you again?”

Your smile widened, something warm flickering in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

Logan gave a short nod, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Good,” he murmured.

And for the first time in 26 years, Logan allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he’d found his way back to you.

---

You had taken up Ida’s offer after all, you lived in the same building so it wasn’t like it was out of the way for you.

“Oh, hey! Thought you weren’t gonna come by.”

You shrugged, taking off your shawl, “changed my mind.” You sat down on the couch and told Ida about your walk with Logan, and she listened intently.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed him. He’s been watching the schoolyard for the past few weeks.”

"Wait, what do you mean, ‘he’s been watching the schoolyard for weeks?’” you asked, your brows knitting together as you leaned forward.

Ida waved her hand dismissively but gave you a sly smile. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. He hasn’t been creepy about it or anything. Just... noticed him hanging around, that’s all. Kind of hard to miss a guy like that, don’t you think?”

You blinked, a sudden flush creeping up your neck. “A guy like what?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” she teased, sitting down across from you. “Tall, rugged... that serious, brooding look. You’re telling me you didn’t notice? He’s practically been glued to the corner across from the schoolhouse for days.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking back to the walk you’d just had with Logan. You hadn’t seen him watching the school, but now that Ida mentioned it... there had been something in his eyes. A familiarity you couldn’t quite place, like he was looking at you but seeing something—or someone—else.

“I didn’t know he was hanging around,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “But... he seems kind. Sad, but kind.”

Ida leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest with a thoughtful hum. “Sad, huh? You picked up on that, too?”

You nodded, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. There had been a weight to Logan’s presence, something unspoken in his voice, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Ida shrugged, her teasing expression softening. “Who knows? The world’s a tough place. We all got our own burdens to carry. But... maybe he’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what?”

“Maybe someone to share the load,” she replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe that someone’s you.”

You shook your head, the idea seeming too far-fetched. “I don’t even know him, Ida. I mean, we just talked for the first time today.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Ida said, getting up to grab a pot of tea from the stove. “You felt something, right? That’s not nothing.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I guess. He did say I reminded him of someone he lost.”

Ida paused, setting the teapot down carefully. “Lost, huh? That would explain the sad part. But... why hang around you then? What’s he hoping to find?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. The idea that Logan had been watching you, even unknowingly, made something stir in your chest—a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite name.

Ida handed you a cup of tea, sitting back down beside you. “Well, maybe next time you see him, you can ask.”

You looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ask him why he’s hanging around the schoolyard?���

Ida laughed softly. “Maybe not that bluntly, but yeah. There’s something about him, Y/N. Might be worth finding out what.”

You sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you. Maybe Ida was right. Maybe Logan was carrying something heavy, and maybe—just maybe—you could help.

---

The next day, you found yourself more aware of your surroundings as you walked to the schoolhouse. Every sound, every movement seemed sharper. You scanned the street, looking for a familiar figure, but Logan wasn’t there—at least, not that you could see.

The day went on as usual, though you felt a bit distracted, your mind drifting to the walk you’d shared with him. There was something about Logan that pulled at you, a quiet intensity that you couldn’t shake. He was a mystery, and part of you wanted to solve it.

When the school day ended, you lingered outside a little longer than usual, hoping—half-expecting—that he might show up again. The children ran off, their laughter echoing down the street as they disappeared into their homes. You smiled at the sight, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan standing just a few feet away. He had approached so quietly you hadn’t even heard him.

“Logan,” you said, surprised but not unwelcome. “I didn’t see you.”

He gave a small shrug, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You smiled softly, your heartbeat slowing as the initial surprise wore off. “It’s alright. Just didn’t expect to see you today.”

Logan shifted his weight, his gaze flicking to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wanted to see if you’d like to take another walk. If you’re not too tired, that is.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. There was something in his voice—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. And despite not knowing him well, you found yourself wanting to say yes.

“I’d like that,” you said, stepping down from the schoolhouse stoop.

The two of you started walking again, this time in a different direction, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the street. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, though, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Logan walked beside you, his steps steady but deliberate, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Why’ve you been hanging around the school?” you finally asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ida said she noticed you there for a while.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, and he didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “I wasn’t trying to... I don’t know. I guess I was just... drawn there.”

“Drawn there?” you echoed, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “Yeah. Like I said before, you remind me of someone.”

You didn’t press, sensing that whatever it was, it was personal. Instead, you walked in silence for a few more steps before Logan stopped abruptly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face you fully. His eyes were intense, but there was something almost apologetic in them. “If I am, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

Logan studied your face, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, almost as if he was relieved.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

The conversation shifted after that, lightening as you talked about small things—the city, your students, even the weather. Logan listened more than he spoke, but you could feel him relax bit by bit, the tension in his posture easing as the afternoon wore on.

When you reached your building again, Logan stopped with you on the stoop. There was a moment of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, offering him a small smile.

Logan looked at you for a long beat before nodding. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you turned to head inside, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan was still standing there, watching you with that same look in his eyes—the one that made you feel like you were more than just a stranger to him.

And in that moment, you realized... you didn’t want to be just a stranger to him either.

---

After about a week of Logan walking you home, it became a familiar routine. Each time, you’d stand on the stoop, exchanging a few words before you’d head inside, always with that lingering feeling of something left unsaid. But tonight was different—the air was colder, and the wind was biting, so when you reached your building, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not going out in that cold again,” you said firmly, reaching for his arm. He tensed slightly under your touch, but you ignored it, tugging him toward the door. “Ten minutes outside in the cold, you need to warm up before you go.”

Logan didn’t protest, but you could sense his hesitation. He glanced around the dimly lit hallway as you led him up the stairs to your small apartment.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I won’t keep you long. Just until you can feel your fingers again.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, following you inside. Once you were both in, you motioned for him to sit down on the worn couch, tossing your shawl onto a chair as you made your way to the stove to boil some water for tea.

Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the modest space, before finally sitting down. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate.

“You don’t gotta fuss,” he muttered, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “I’m alright.”

“Humor me,” you replied with a soft smile, setting a kettle on the stove. “Besides, I’ve been dragging you along on these walks. Least I can do is make sure you’re not freezing to death.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into the couch. His eyes followed your movements, though his expression stayed guarded. He looked... cautious, like he wasn’t sure how to be here with you, in this space. It was strange, this carefulness, coming from a man who seemed so unbreakable.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” you asked, turning to face him while the water heated up. “We’ve been walking for a week, and I feel like I barely know you.”

Logan’s gaze shifted, and you could tell he was weighing his words. “Not much to tell,” he said after a beat. “Just a guy who’s been around a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “That’s it? No family, no friends? You just... wander?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers idly tracing the worn fabric of the couch. “Had family once. Friends, too. Lost most of ‘em.”

There was a heaviness in his voice, and you could feel the weight of his words. You didn’t push him, though. Instead, you poured the hot water into two cups, walking over and handing him one.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan took the cup but didn’t drink right away. He stared down into the tea, his expression unreadable. “Life’s hard for everyone,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sat down beside him, the warmth from the cup seeping into your hands. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, sipping tea and letting the quiet fill the space. There was something about being near him that made you feel calm, like the world slowed down for a little while when he was around.

“Why’d you let me walk with you?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice rougher than before.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Most people wouldn’t... They’d be scared, or they’d push me away. But you... you let me stay.”

You frowned, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know... I guess I just felt like... I should.” You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze. “Besides, you’re not exactly a scary guy. Brooding, sure, but not scary.”

A small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not afraid of much, are you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not really. I mean, what’s the point of being afraid? Life’s hard enough without worrying about things that might not even happen.”

Logan’s smile faded, replaced by that familiar look of sadness. He stared into his cup for a moment, then set it down on the table in front of him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess you’re right.”

The silence stretched between you again, but this time it felt heavier, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air. You could feel it, pressing down on both of you, but neither of you seemed ready to break it.

Finally, Logan stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. “I should go,” he said, though he didn’t make a move toward the door.

You stood up too, your heart pounding a little harder than usual. “Logan...”

He turned to face you, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah?”

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm again. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without saying a word, he nodded once, a silent acknowledgment that you didn’t need to explain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly before turning to leave.

You watched him go, your heart heavy but hopeful. There was something between you—something unspoken, something old—and you weren’t ready to let it go.

Not yet.

---

It had taken a few more days to convince Logan to come back into your apartment. You weren’t sure how you convinced him this time, but you were happy that you did.

Your apartment smelled nice and homey. Before you had left for work, you had put bread in the oven to bake, and now, as you came back home with Logan in tow, it was finished. The warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread filled the room as you stepped inside. Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering for a moment before following you in, his expression unreadable but curious.

You busied yourself with the bread, slicing into the crust and offering Logan a piece. He took it, though his attention seemed more focused on you than the food.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a bite.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from him being here. "I was thinking..." you started, turning to grab a couple of plates from the cupboard. "Maybe we could go into the city tomorrow? It’s market day. There's a lot to see, and it’d be nice to get out of the schoolhouse routine for a bit."

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. "Market, huh?"

"Yeah, you know, just... walk around. Maybe pick up a few things." You looked over at him, half expecting him to decline, but to your surprise, he didn’t.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but without hesitation. "I’ll come with you."

You smiled, feeling a small flutter of excitement in your chest. "Great. It’ll be fun. I promise."

---

The next day, you found yourself walking through the bustling streets of Chicago with Logan by your side. The market was crowded, full of people haggling and chatting, the air thick with the smell of fresh produce, spices, and the occasional whiff of roasting meat. It was a world away from the quiet walks you'd shared, and you could feel Logan's unease in the busy atmosphere. But he stayed close, his hand brushing yours more than once as you wove through the crowd.

"Do you come here often?" Logan asked, his eyes scanning the vendors with mild interest.

"Once or twice a month," you replied. "I like the energy here. Makes the city feel alive, you know?"

Logan grunted in response, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. You could tell he wasn’t used to this—being around so many people—but he stuck close to you, his presence protective without being overbearing.

After a while, you stopped at a stall selling flowers. The colors were vibrant, a burst of life in the middle of the dusty street. You picked up a small bouquet of wildflowers, smiling as you held them up.

"These are my favorite," you said, glancing up at Logan. "They're simple but... I don't know, they make me happy."

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at the flowers in your hand, then back at you. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the vendor before you could protest.

"Logan, you don’t have to—"

"Consider it a thank you," he said quietly, cutting you off. "For the bread."

You blinked, surprised but touched by the gesture. "Well, thank you."

He nodded, and the two of you continued walking, the flowers resting in the crook of your arm as the city bustled around you. For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the market fading into the background as the two of you wandered further from the busy streets. Eventually, you found a quiet park at the edge of the city, a small, peaceful space away from the noise.

You sat down on a bench, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. Logan sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes always scanning the area, as if he couldn’t fully let his guard down.

"Do you ever stop looking over your shoulder?" you asked, half teasing but curious.

Logan’s mouth twitched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Old habit."

You studied him for a moment, sensing there was more behind those words. He had a way of holding himself, like he was always ready for something, always waiting. It made you wonder just how much he’d seen, how much he’d lived through.

"I’m glad you came with me today," you said softly, looking out at the park. "I feel like I’ve been stuck in a routine for a while now. It’s nice to just... do something different."

Logan glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "I’m glad I came too," he admitted, his voice low.

There was something in the way he said it, something that made your heart skip a beat. The air between you felt different, charged with a quiet tension that neither of you seemed willing to break. You wondered if he felt it too—the strange pull between you, like something just beneath the surface was waiting to be uncovered.

After a long pause, Logan spoke again. "I ain’t good at... this." He gestured vaguely, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "Being close to people."

You turned to him, surprised by the admission. "You’re doing fine," you said gently.

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he shook his head. "It’s not that simple."

You felt a pang of something—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. Whatever it was, it made you reach out, your hand lightly brushing his. "You don’t have to explain," you said softly. "I get it."

Logan’s eyes flickered down to where your hand rested near his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, his rough fingers brushing against yours in the faintest of touches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—like maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in.

---

As you walked to the tenement building after work one day, you glanced over at Logan. “You ever been to the exhibition hall in the city?”

Logan looked over to you, slightly puzzled by the question. “The exhibition?”

You nodded, turning toward him. “There’s a display of inventions and art from all over. I heard they’ve got this new thing—electric lights. I was thinking about going this weekend, and… maybe you’d like to come with me?”

For a moment, Logan just stared at you, as if unsure what to say. The idea of stepping out into the city, surrounded by people, probably wasn’t something he did often. But he shifted slightly, his eyes softening in that way they did when you caught him off guard.

“You want me to go with you?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” you said, smiling. “We’ve been walking the same few streets for days. Thought it might be nice to do something different. Besides, I’m curious about those lights. They say it’s going to change the way people live.”

Logan gave a low, thoughtful hum, and for a moment, you worried he might decline. But then he nodded slowly, his expression softening further. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Your smile widened. “Great! We can meet at my place on Saturday afternoon, then head out.”

The conversation drifted back into easier topics—your students, a new bakery that had opened nearby, and the way the city seemed to grow busier every day. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this small invitation marked a shift, a way to see more of who Logan was beyond the quiet man who walked beside you in silence. Maybe out in the world, you’d understand him better.

---

Saturday came quickly, and the two of you walked side by side through the busy streets, the sounds of horses and carriages filling the air. You led Logan through the bustling avenues toward the exhibition hall, your excitement barely contained.

“Ever seen anything like this?” you asked, glancing up at him as the towering hall came into view.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the building, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not in a while.”

Inside, the hall was a wonder of modern marvels. Booths lined with mechanical inventions, sculptures, and paintings from around the world. The hum of excitement filled the air, and the bright new electric lights cast a strange, almost magical glow over everything.

You wandered the displays together, your curiosity leading the way. Logan stayed close, his attention less on the inventions and more on you. Every now and then, he'd glance at a piece of machinery or a strange-looking contraption, but his eyes kept drifting back to your face, watching the way your expression changed with each new discovery.

"This is incredible," you murmured, leaning in to get a closer look at a large machine labeled as an ‘automatic loom.’ You smiled at Logan, your excitement clear. "Can you imagine how much time this would save?"

Logan nodded, though you could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "Yeah, I can see how it'd be useful."

You moved to the next display, but Logan lingered for a moment. When he finally caught up, you were already studying a painting—a soft, pastoral scene that contrasted with the industrial energy around you.

"It's beautiful, isn’t it?" you said, glancing at him.

Logan’s gaze flicked to the painting, but quickly returned to you. "Yeah," he said, though it was clear he wasn’t talking about the art.

You felt his eyes on you again and looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something there—something that made your heart skip. Logan had always been protective, always hovering just close enough to shield you if need be. But this felt different, like there was more to it now.

"You sure this ain’t boring for you?" you asked, trying to lighten the moment. "I know you’re not one for crowds."

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his version of a chuckle. "It’s fine. Long as you’re enjoying yourself."

You smiled, touched by the sentiment. "I am. Thanks for coming with me."

For a while, you wandered together in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the exhibition hall. The crowds around you buzzed with excitement, but the space between you and Logan felt almost separate—like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

At one point, you stopped in front of a display showcasing early electric light bulbs. "Look at that," you said, pointing to the glass bulbs flickering with soft light. "They’re saying these will replace gas lamps soon."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Doesn’t seem right, replacing something that’s worked for so long."

"Change is good sometimes," you said, glancing at him. "It keeps things moving forward."

Logan met your eyes, his expression soft but thoughtful. "Guess I’ve never been good with change."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the weight behind his words. "Maybe you just haven’t found the right reason to embrace it yet."

For a moment, Logan didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you, like he was trying to make sense of something. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Maybe."

As the afternoon wore on, the two of you eventually stepped outside the exhibition hall, the sun low in the sky and the city’s evening glow starting to take over. The air felt cooler now, a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

You walked beside Logan in comfortable silence, but the charged undercurrent between you hadn’t faded. It felt like something had shifted—like you’d both acknowledged a deeper connection, even if neither of you had fully put it into words yet.

"You want to get something to eat?" Logan asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you said, smiling up at him. "There’s a place not far from here. They make the best stew."

Logan nodded, falling into step beside you again as you made your way toward the small restaurant you had in mind. The quiet between you was easy, but there was an unspoken understanding that something had changed between the two of you today. Neither of you said it out loud, but you didn’t need to.

As you entered the restaurant, the warm scent of food filled the air, and you found a table near the back, away from the main crowd. Logan took the seat across from you, his eyes scanning the room out of habit, but eventually settling back on you.

"This place isn’t so bad," he said, giving a small nod of approval.

You laughed softly. "Glad it meets your standards."

Logan smirked, but there was a softness behind it. As the two of you talked over dinner, you realized just how much you enjoyed moments like this—quiet, simple, yet meaningful. It wasn’t about grand gestures or fancy places; it was about being together, about the way Logan made you feel safe and seen.

---

One day, after inviting Logan into your apartment once again, you set out to make tea like you always do.

You felt a cough building up in your throat, so you grabbed a small handkerchief from the counter and coughed into it. You had seen the school doctor while you were at work, and he said you just had a mild cold.

Logan, who was sitting on the couch, immediately turned his head to you, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He’d heard that cough before—26 years ago.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You turned around, still holding the handkerchief to your mouth. "Yeah?" you answered casually, noticing the tension in his voice but thinking nothing of it. “Just a little cough, nothing serious. I saw the doctor earlier, and he said it’s just a cold.”

Logan stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He took a step closer, his mind racing back to 1854, to your last days—bedridden and coughing, just like this. He had lost you then, watching helplessly as the illness took you. He couldn't shake the feeling, the memory, and the fear that history might repeat itself.

"Cold, huh?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge to it.

"Yeah, no big deal." You smiled, folding the handkerchief and putting it back in your pocket. "Really, Logan, I’m fine."

Logan’s jaw tightened. He had seen too much, lived too long to believe in coincidence. This was too familiar, too painful. And yet, here you were—alive, vibrant. This time, he couldn’t lose you again. He wouldn't.

"You should take it easy," he said, stepping closer, his tone gentler now. "You been workin' too hard at that school."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing his concern but not quite understanding the depth of it. "I’m fine, really. It’s just a little cold. Nothing that rest and tea won’t fix."

Logan didn’t argue, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently brushed his fingers against your arm, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him. This wasn’t 1854. But the memory haunted him.

You noticed the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he was afraid to lose you. "Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his. "What’s really going on?"

Logan’s breath hitched for a moment, and he fought the urge to pull you closer, to tell you everything. But how could he? How could he explain that you’d been here before—that he’d watched you die, that he’d loved you once in another life, in another time? Instead, he just shook his head, the weight of those memories too heavy to share.

"Just... don’t push yourself too hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "I’ve seen people get worse when they don’t take care of themselves."

You nodded, though his intensity still lingered in your mind. "I promise, I’ll rest." You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, you’ll make sure I do, right?"

Logan’s lips quirked into the smallest smile, but there was still something distant in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "I will."

The moment hung in the air, the unspoken weight of Logan’s past pressing down on him, though you couldn’t see it. You were the same, and yet not. The woman he had once loved and lost was standing right in front of him, alive, but without any memory of that life you’d shared.

---

You didn’t see Logan for a few days, which was unusual, ever since he started walking with you he had never missed a day.

You couldn’t help but worry a tad bit, it wasn’t like him to just not be there. Even Ida had made a few comments, including now as you sat in her apartment, just a few doors down from your own, sipping tea.

“He hasn’t been by at all?” Ida asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “That man never misses a day. He’s usually lurking outside, waitin’ to walk you home.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s been three days now.”

Ida leaned forward, her hands folded on the table. “You don’t think somethin’s happened to him, do ya? That man is tough, sure, but even the toughest get into trouble sometimes.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to entertain the thought. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just needed some time alone. He’s... not the type to explain himself much.”

Ida hummed, though she didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But if he doesn’t show up soon, you ought to go find him. He’s a good man, Y/N, and you’ve only known him a month, but it’s clear he cares about you.”

The truth of her words settled over you, heavy and unspoken. You cared about Logan too. Even if you didn’t quite understand the pull between you, it was there—undeniable. And the fact that he hadn’t shown up, without so much as a word, made your chest tighten with worry.

Later that evening, after you’d left Ida’s apartment and returned to your own, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Logan had become part of your routine, part of your day-to-day life. And now that he was gone, it felt like something was missing.

Just as you were about to turn in for the night, a knock sounded at the door.

Your heart jumped, and you rushed to open it, half expecting—half hoping—it would be Logan.

And there he was.

He stood in the doorway, his coat damp from the light rain outside, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes, though, were what caught you—the familiar intensity, but with something else lurking beneath. Something darker.

“Logan,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “Where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”

Logan stepped into your small apartment, his broad frame somehow filling the space, making it feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything right away, just ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.

“I needed time,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Time for what?” you asked gently, sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t easy for him.

Logan glanced at you, then looked away, as if he couldn’t meet your eyes. His jaw tightened, and you could see the struggle on his face—like he was wrestling with something deep inside. After a long pause, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words sounding foreign in his mouth, like he wasn’t used to saying them.

You blinked, taken aback. Logan was the last person you ever expected to hear those words from. “Scared of what?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you saw the vulnerability there, raw and unguarded. “Of losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… we’ve only known each other for a month,” you said softly, though the words felt strange even as they left your mouth. Because deep down, it felt like you’d known him much longer—like this connection between you was more than just a month in the making.

“I know,” Logan said, his voice rough. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something desperate and pained, like he was holding onto you with everything he had. You wanted to ask him why, to understand what had happened in his past to make him feel this way. But instead, you just reached out, your hand finding his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m right here.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and before you could say anything more, he stepped closer, his hand cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch rough but gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of your apartment, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was urgent, almost desperate, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. His lips moved against yours with a fierceness that took your breath away, and for a moment, all you could do was hold onto him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as you kissed him back.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, and you wanted to promise him that he wouldn’t—that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. But something about the way he said it made you hesitate, made you wonder what he wasn’t telling you.

“Logan…” you started, your voice soft. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His hand dropped from your face, and he took a step back, his expression guarded once again. The walls he’d let down just moments ago seemed to be rising back up.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he said finally, his voice low. “I’ve lost people before. People I cared about. I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but there was something else there too—something unspoken. “Logan… who did you lose?”

His eyes flickered with pain, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he just shook his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You wanted to press him, to understand, but you also knew that Logan wasn’t someone who opened up easily. So instead, you just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. He stiffened at first, but then his arms slowly came around you, pulling you close as if he was afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” you whispered against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that was all you could offer him. And for now, it seemed to be enough.

---

You and Ida sat in the back of the rattling carriage, bundled against the cold, the wheels creaking beneath the weight of your bags from the market. The late afternoon sky was heavy with clouds, promising rain before nightfall and a storm by morning.

“Supposed to come down hard tomorrow,” Ida said, clutching her shawl tighter. “Glad we got everything done now. Don’t wanna be caught in that mess.”

You smiled, shifting a bag of potatoes off your lap. “It’ll be nice to have an excuse to stay in and rest. Logan’s been after me about taking it easy anyway.”

Ida gave you a knowing look, her brow lifting. “That man likes you, Y/N. More than you think.”

You shrugged, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “I know he cares. He’s just… different. Keeps to himself.”

“He’s different, alright,” Ida muttered, peering out the carriage window. “But he’s not the type to care about someone without good reason. Don’t let that one get away.”

You didn’t respond, but your thoughts drifted to Logan—how he had kissed you that night, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. There was something ancient in his touch, like he had carried the weight of loss for far too long. You didn’t fully understand it, but you felt it—something deeper than words or time.

The carriage jolted suddenly, jerking you forward in your seat. The horse up front whinnied, wild and panicked.

“Whoa!” the driver shouted, yanking hard on the reins.

You clutched Ida’s arm, your heart racing. “What’s going on?”

The driver cursed, standing in his seat to get a better look. “The damn harness snapped! The horse—”

Before he could finish, the horse bolted, the broken leather straps slapping wildly behind it. The carriage lurched, and you and Ida were thrown sideways. The wheels screamed as they spun out of control, the driver shouting as he fought to keep it steady.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

The world tilted violently as the carriage careened off the road, slamming into a ditch. Bags spilled across the floor, and you hit your shoulder hard against the side wall. Ida’s scream filled your ears, but the noise was drowned out by the thunder of the collapsing carriage, wood splintering and wheels buckling beneath the weight.

And then—nothing.

The carriage stopped, shuddering to a halt in a twisted heap at the bottom of the ditch. The rain started, light at first, pattering against the wreckage.

---

Logan was walking back toward your tenement building, the collar of his coat turned up against the cold drizzle, when he saw it—just beyond the next block, down by the road.

The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.

A carriage, overturned, one of the wheels still spinning lazily. The horse was gone, its reins dangling uselessly from the harness. People were gathering, but no one dared approach the wreckage yet.

Logan’s heart stopped. He knew—he just knew.

His feet moved before he could think. He sprinted toward the wreck, rain falling harder now, soaking through his clothes. His boots hit the muddy road with heavy thuds, splashing water as he ran faster than any ordinary man should.

By the time he reached the scene, a bystander had climbed down, trying to pry the splintered door open. Logan shoved him aside without a word, claws itching under his skin, ready to tear the door off if need be.

“Someone’s inside!” the man stammered. “Two women—”

Logan didn’t wait. His hands found the edge of the door, and with a growl of effort, he yanked it off the hinges. Inside the crumpled interior, he saw you, half-buried beneath scattered bags.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, raw and frantic. He dropped to his knees and pulled you free, cradling you in his arms.

You stirred, barely conscious, your head lolling against his chest. Blood streaked your temple, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Logan…?” you whispered, confused, your hand weakly grasping his coat.

“I got you,” Logan said, his voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.” But even as he said it, dread gnawed at him—this wasn’t fine. It was happening again.

Ida groaned nearby, struggling to sit up, but Logan’s focus was locked on you. He pressed a hand against your side, where your ribs felt wrong under his touch. He could feel the heat of your blood seeping into his fingers.

“No, no, no…” Logan whispered, shaking his head. The storm raged around him, but all he could hear was the shallow rasp of your breathing.

You looked up at him, your gaze unfocused, but your lips curled into the faintest smile. “I told you… I’d rest…”

“Don’t,” Logan begged, his forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. You hear me? Stay.”

You blinked slowly, your hand slipping from his coat. “I… tried…”

Logan clenched his jaw, biting down hard against the scream building in his chest. His healing mutation would keep him alive through anything—but it couldn’t save you. Not now. Not again.

He kissed your forehead, his breath shuddering. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. Not like this…”

Your breath hitched once, then stopped.

“No,” Logan whispered, rocking you in his arms. “No, no, no…”

His hands trembled as he pulled you closer, your lifeless body limp against him. The rain poured down harder, drumming on the wreckage, but Logan didn’t care. He sat there, holding you, feeling the familiar, soul-crushing emptiness settle in his chest like an old wound tearing open again.

And still, he held you. Because this time, just like 26 years ago, he couldn’t let go.

in this chapter logan is 48 years old and reader is around 22-24 years old. just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[joemama-2]

ten reasons i love you

pairing: gojo x fem reader tags/warnings: angst, angst, angst, light fluff, smut, death, divider by @cafekitsune

word count: 2459

Reason #1: you’re patient

Sometimes, I get a little jealous. I wish I were like you, and I try to be, but no one could ever be like you. You handled every situation, every wrongdoing, every argument, every fight, with grace. A simple and natural elegance.

Every time, it proved why I fell in love with you. 

But, I love when you’re patient with me. I know I can be hard to handle sometimes, annoying, or an “ass”, whichever name you decided to grace me with that day. You stayed with me, even when sometimes I wished you hadn’t. Because I knew you deserved, deserve, better.

“Can’t you just tell me all the reasons now?”

“Nope, that would ruin the surprise. You get your next reason next week.”

A gentle kiss to the forehead, followed by one to your cheeks, nose, and then lips.

Reason #2: the way you laugh

I know it’s getting hard to do that now, but when you finally do, it’s the most pleasant sound my ears have ever heard, that my body has ever felt when you giggle against my neck. It sounds like a sweet melody, one that makes you warm. One that makes you smile, without noticing. 

I don’t think anyone could ever have as beautiful as laugh as you do. Even then, it wouldn’t compete.

The way you laugh sounds so natural like you don’t care who hears. I miss your laughs so much. Whenever I hear it, in that moment, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Because you’re perfect. 

It’s the sound of joy that fills up a room and my heart. I wish I could listen to it forever.

“I didn’t take you for a poet.”

Satoru laughs, dimple more prominent. “I can be cute when I want to.”

You smile, followed by your oh-so-precious laugh. He practically melts on the spot. He can hear the rattling in your chest he’s unfortunately become familiar with. But his face doesn’t fall, instead, he holds you closer and presses a kiss to your hairline. 

It feels like just yesterday when you both got the news, when your lives changed. It’s the second week, but he just prays for time to slow down. For he’s not ready for the future. 

Reason #3: your determination

It’s so beautiful to see. The way you try and try, even after failure. The way you never give up. Maybe it’s because you’re a bit stubborn, but you never back down. It’s a quiet strength about you that I hope you can make loud one day.

You’re fierce, but quiet. Determinated, but timid. I’ve never seen those combinations before, but now that I have, I love it. 

“I wish I was still strong enough.”

His heart breaks at the sight before him, along with your resigned tone of voice. Pushing some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Listen,” he murmurs, head titling. “You are strong, then and now. You will always be strong. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I know you. And I know you’re not ready to give up, just like I’m not giving up on you. We’ll both fight this. In the end, I’ll buy you that ice cream you really like.”

Tears fill your eyes, a sad smile playing on your lips. “Okay, I can’t wait.”

Reason #4: your creativity

I know you’re trying to find ways to take your mind off the now, I am too. I didn’t think someone was capable of picking up on hobbies so fast, but the gloves you knitted me say otherwise. Oh, and the cute little crotchet animals that now take residency on my side of the bed. But I’ll let that slide, just for you. (The little gray bunny is my enemy, btw.)

I wish I was as creative as you. It’s like your juices just get flowing and once you start, you don’t stop. I love seeing it happen in real-time. It makes you happy, I know that. So it makes me happy too.

I’ve been getting more yarn now when I’m out, it’s kind of just like second nature now, I guess. They’re starting to pile up, but I hope one day they’ll all be gone. 

“Keep her off her feet more.” The doctor tells Satoru, who currently stands with a pensive expression, fingers curling around your own. “Your wife needs all the rest she can get, so if you can, keep her on bedrest with less strenuous activities.”

Bedrest. 

That word alone shakes you to your core, a prime example of your deteriorating condition. You can hear your weakened heart pound in your ears, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If you’re being advised to be put on bed rest, what hope is left for you?

Almost none.

Reason #5: how you care about people

“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” You huff out, a wince soon taking over. 

Satoru’s comforting hand places itself on your pale one, smiling. “Just keep reading.”

With one final breath out, your eyes travel down to the small journal, reading today’s entry.

You have a certain way of making people feel seen. Including others in conversation, making sure no one is left out. You listen when needed, comfort when needed, and give advice when needed. Even if you’re not doing the best yourself.

You make people feel important, make me feel important. You look beyond titles and hierarchies and just see…me. 

If someone’s at their lowest, you make them feel seen. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it, and I love it.

You don’t even know you’re reaching out for him until his arms wrap securely around your waist. Careful not to drop his full weight onto your frail body. But god do you wish he did, you missed how things were before.

Hot tears stain his shirt and Satoru feels his own set begin to let loose. He’s always been good at comforting you when you’re crying, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cry with you. 

Reason #6: the way you make the mundane beautiful 

“Mundane.” You repeat, coughing. 

“Mundane.” Satoru confirms, holding your hands. “Do you think mundane is bad?”

“I feel like I can’t even do mundane things now.”

His head shakes. “You can, and you do. Life is mundane with you, but it’s also exciting, beautiful.”

With a jut of his chin towards the journal, you take the hint and continue reading.

How you can turn something so ordinary into something magical is still beyond me. Maybe you’re a secret witch (I would like that). You look for the beauty in things.

The way the sun hits the leaves, the sound of rain, or the way our hands fit together. You see the world in a way no one else does.

I see the beauty in you too. When your nose crinkles because of my “smelly” socks, your head tilting when you’re confused, or even that look you give me when I say something stupid or funny. I like admiring you, and I like the way you admire. 

Reason #7: how you make me a better person

There’s a resounding thump noise as you throw the journal into the wall. Health slowly failing along with your own mental stability. Satoru holds back a frown, feeling himself uncomfortably shift beside you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He gently asks.

“I don’t wanna read anymore.” Your voice is bordering on unrecognizable, the rattling in your chest more prominent.

He heaves a small sigh, walking over to pick the book up and back to you. Sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully regarding you with an examining gaze. “Why not?”

Many reasons. “I-It just makes me emotional, Satoru.” 

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything!” You shout, looking at him with a pitiful expression. “I’m already fucked up as it is, I don’t wanna cry anymore!”

God, is this really testing his emotional resilience. But that’s not what you need right now. “I know, I know you don’t, baby. But look at it like this,” he scoots closer, fingers intertwining with yours. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, it means we’re still human, it makes us feel….complete sometimes. And I know you’re trying hard to hold everything in, I see it. But please, just let everything out, don’t worry about the mess. Because I’m here.”

Your hands tremble, no longer fighting back your tears as you hesitantly reach for the outstretched journal and read, tears wetting the page. He holds you close.

You challenge me, in the best way. You push me to be more rational, logical, to be more punctual and caring. You push me to be the best me, you encourage my beliefs and ideas, and you’re there for me when something doesn’t fall through.

Without you, I can’t be who I am today. Without you, I’m not me.

You’ve made me the best me, by just being yourself. 

Next week, you’re saying bye to your forever home. Being forced to spend your last days in an uncomfortable hospital with a scent that you hate. This is the last time you’ll walk these halls, use that stove, watch that TV, sleep in that bed.

You cling to him like a lifeline, sometimes you wish he was. 

Soft cries fill the otherwise dim and quiet room, his arms wrapped around your body. Your arms are around his neck, legs opened wide enough so he can fully accommodate his body between them. The way he deliciously slides in and out, in the slowest and gentlest manner, all for your sake. Small moans and grunts fall from your guys’ lips.

The last time he’ll ever make love to you.

“Reason #8: the way you love me.” 

You almost break down even more at the sound of his cracking voice, noticing the shaky inhale he does as he looks down at you, hips moving in a steady motion. 

“You love me so fully, so unconditionally.” he starts off, grunting quietly as your walls squeeze around him. “It’s not about perfection with you. It’s about the way you choose me. Every day, even when we’re not at our best. I know I’m loved because you show it, every moment, in a thousand little ways.”

His lips kiss and gently suck on your pulse point, tongue darting out to lick and savor your sweaty skin. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot in a rhythm that has you whimpering out, nails digging into his shoulders. Your head tilts back slightly, he guides it back with one free hand and kisses you passionately. 

He swallows your moans and tastes your tears. His tears fall onto your cheeks, mixing in with everything. 

This isn’t just about sex, but it’s about being one with each other. It’s about savoring each other like it’s your last breath, melting into each other’s bodies, and loving you in the most intimate way.

He commits this to memory. 

Satoru stays by your side every day and every night. He doesn’t leave, even when he’s prompted by you to eat and sleep. But he can’t, not when this could be the last time he’ll ever talk to you. 

You look so fragile, so out of place in the hospital bed. The gown one size too big and he just wanted to take you in his arms and into a far-away place. Away from the hospital, away from this heart condition, and just with him. 

You can barely even keep your eyes fully open, multiple wires running through your body to keep you conscious. But you still hold onto his hand, tightly, as if you never want to let go.

And you don’t. Neither does Satoru,

Pale skin and dry lips. Everything about you screams illness. No matter that, you force yourself to stay coherent while he reads. 

“Reason #:9”, he looks at you, “the way you feel like home.”

Satoru forces his voice to remain steady, smiling at you. “Being with you is a safe place, a shelter from this cruel and dirty world. No matter where I am, where you are, where we are, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. You make me feel seen, understood, loved. Nothing else matters but us. Your touch, your voice, your presence, that’s all home to me, and I’m so happy I finally found my home.”

Warm tears slowly trickle down your cheeks, your smile feeling like it’s too hard to handle. “You’re my home too, Satoru. I….I don’t wanna leave home.”

A shaky breath. “You won’t.” His hand squeezes you tighter, planting a chaste kiss on your cracked lips. “I’ll always be here, I’ll always follow you. Just keep holding onto me, okay?”

“O-okay.” You croak out, sniffling. 

That night, he falls asleep with you. Holding you like he always does. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. Your warmth keeps him going, but it also makes him sleepy.

It’s only then does he realizes something. 

He’s happy. He’s so, so happy. He’s with you, you’re with him, and everything else fades away. Because it’s just you two. As much as it hurts, he wants you to go peacefully, and with him.

So, as the hours pass and when he opens his eyes. He’s met with a cold body, an unmoving form in his arms. And tears mixing in with your hair as he hugs you tight one last time.

“Reason #10.”

He sets the bouquet of white roses down on the cold stone, kneeling down before it. Your name stares back at him. 

“The best one, in my opinion. You know….I really hate how I couldn’t tell you this last one in person. But you’re still listening, aren’t you?” He places his hand above your name and a small gust of wind replies back. He smiles. 

“The way you taught me to live.”

“You taught me to how to live, not just in ‘big moments’, but in the small ones too. The moments that matter. The times we spent together, the quiet talks, the laughter, the shared silences. You’ve shown me that life isn’t about counting days—it’s about making days count.”

After leaving, he can’t help but cry. Fingers twitching by his sides, ears ringing. He blocks out the world. Until there’s a small rustling in the bushes beside him. He stops and looks.

He laughs.

“Guess you’re still keeping an eye on me, huh?”

Staring back, a cute little gray bunny. Its ears twitch, as if acknowledging him.

He takes a step closer, then kneels down, his voice softening. "Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I promise."

He looks at the bunny one last time before standing up and walking away, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort. 

[shares-a-vest]

Pineapple Breath & Onion Boy (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.2k | Rated: T for Flirtatious Banter/Suggestive Language | cw: Mild reference to Period-Typical Homophobia (if you squint - Eddie is just conscious about being affectionate with Steve in a public space), Food Mention, Inferred Smoking (Eddie is playing with a lighter)

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Pizza, Contemplating the Future, Side Clarkson, Pet Names, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Lightest Angst in the first half

Note: Working on my drabble yesterday had me rudely confronting myself with a Drafts. Buuut it gave me the motivation to come back to this one! Yay writing!

-🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕-

Eddie leans back on one of the faded red plastic chairs outside Gino’s Pizzeria and flicks his cigarette lighter.

He then turns it off, then back on again. Then off again… Anything to distract himself from the desperate grumbling in his belly – a feeling that has grown painful now that he can smell pepperoni wafting outside.

The chair gives a warning wobble beneath him, the back legs of the thing holding his weight as he looks up at Steve, who looks all cozy in his cream-coloured corded sweater and maroon jacket. Even if he is standing there with his arms folded and a frown knitting his brows as he looks on down Main Street.

Wayne and Scott had disappeared in that direction a few minutes ago, trekking down the block to fetch their Chinese takeout, while Eddie and Steve waited for their pizzas.

Pizzas plural. Because Eddie refuses to partake in Steve’s new and frankly, disgusting preference for pineapple.

It has been their little quartet’s Friday Night routine for a couple of months now and Eddie thinks he must end up looking the same each and every time: staring up at his boyfriend. Steve looks pretty as a picture as his eyes glisten under the streetlight and his breath puffs out in a feint cloud in the crisp night air.

He looks a dream, really.

Not that he ever looks anything less, thank you very much!

Eddie knows Steve is lost in some thought, the kind that pinches his brows together and downturns his mouth into a mindless pout rather than one that is truly grumpy.

At least Eddie thinks it’s all that before Steve sucks in a breath and sighs, deep and wistful as his beautiful hazel eyes grow bigger.

That look makes Eddie tip forward in his chair with a sharp snap. He shoves his lighter back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, frowning himself now as he tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch his boyfriend’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is met with silence for a moment before Steve gives a soft and wistful sigh.

“You think when we’re old, we’ll be like Wayne and Scott?” Steve asks, still looking down the street.

“Jesus Christ, no!” Eddie scoffs, “I don’t plan on gettin’ old.”

Steve whips around and looks down at him with an even deeper frown and, yep – that’s a Worried Pout.

“What?” he near whimpers.

Eddie jumps up, groaning a little as his back pangs with deep regret over him tilting back on that stupid rickety chair. He waves a hand nonchalantly.

But Steve doesn’t budge. He looks hurt.

Eddie steps into his personal space and offers a small smile - one that he knows will showcase his dimples and make Steve melt like mozzarella cheese.

“Y’know what I mean,” he clarifies, “I do not intend to become some old fart, whose idea of a good time is going on a fishing trip while his boyfriend collects frogs.”

Steve somehow tightens the fold of his arms as he looks him over.

“Eddie, you like looking for frogs,” he retorts, his brows easing up a little, “Anyway, don’t you think they’re cute?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, here we go.”

“I mean it,” Steve defends, “Scott gets home from school and putters about for a while. Then, he finishes up some work exactly one hour before Wayne walks in the door. And then, they go about deciding on their takeout order – even though they always get the same thing! And when we get home, they’ll eat in front of the television, Wayne will clean up and then they watch the TV until Wayne starts to doze off and they go to bed.”

He finishes up with a sigh and looks back down Main Street again, appearing a little sheepish now as if he got a little too carried away with his longing there for a moment. It’s a look that tightens something in Eddie’s chest – one that makes him step even closer.

Or at least as close as he should get to his boyfriend out on the main thoroughfare of Hawkins.

He sucks in a breath and looks ahead too, wanting to kiss that look off Steve’s face.

But for the moment, he settles for a bump to the shoulder.

“We’re gonna be all that one day, aren’t we?” he says just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, upbeat but nonetheless quiet.

Eddie leans in, “Follow me, sugar.”

He tugs on Steve’s jacket sleeve and promptly spins on his heel to disappear around the corner of the building. The dumpsters behind the local pizza shop aren’t the most romantic of settings – but sue him for having a Rolodex of potential public makeout spots at the ready.

Eddie can feel Steve’s warm breath on his neck as they reach the far end of the building, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns to lean against the wall and palms around for any part of Steve to come along with him.

Steve crowds him against the building and as soon as he pushes them flush together, Eddie becomes all too aware of how whisps of his hair stick to the cool brick behind him. He gasps.

“Oh, no! What if I lose my hair!” he shrieks.

Steve grumbles, insulted, “What if I lose my hair?”

“Wha-cha – Stevie!” Eddie splutters, “My hair is just as important as yours!”

Steve smirks and reaches for his hairline, brushing back his bangs. He scrunches his nose.

“Hmm,” he hums with closer inspection, “It’s looking okay… for now.”

Eddie hisses at him.

“Get your damn dirty paws off-a me,” he grouses. Eddie flicks his bangs back into place with an exaggerated hmfph before he straightens up and snakes his arms around Steve’s middle, pulling him tighter still, “Steve, I promise as I stand here before you, behind the hallowed halls of Gino’s Pizzeria – ”

“ – Eddie, the owner’s name is Frank.”

“Fine! Frank – he of bountiful cheese and delicious tomato sauce. I do declare that I will still love you, even if I turn into a balding old grump with a permanent frown and bad knees.”

“And will you still love me if I become a middle school teacher, all chipper and cheery?”

“Meh, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Eddie shrugs.

“What if I grew a moustache?” Steve grins.

“That’s taking it too far!” Eddie practically shouts, squeezing the air out of his boyfriend in the process.

Steve gives a wheezing giggle as he runs his thumb and index finger over the soft stubble he has above his plush top lip. Eddie captures the mocking digits in his own hand and bites down, earning a wicked whine.

Steve shivers and gives a warning, “Edward…”

“Now,” Eddie begins, lowering the register of his voice, “Ravish me!”

Steve leans forward and presses the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ravish you later,” he pulls back and winks.

But Eddie recoils, nearly knocking his head back against the pizzeria’s brick wall.

“When you have pineapple breath?” he spits with a dramatic grimace.

“Says you, Onion Boy.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, “We’re both stinky.”

The rusty bell of the pizza shop’s front door sounds and Eddie is sure Wayne and Scott have already made it back, always more efficient in calling ahead with their own takeout order.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve smiles, lacing their fingers together.

[ninjagirlstar5]

So, uh, I know recent news have been...not great. Particularly in the US. And I think it's important to acknowledge that.

However, I also think it's important to take care of our mental health and do something fun since we'd only be hurting ourselves with constant doom scrolling and fixating on the bad stuff 24/7.

So, I decided to officially open up simple Art Requests! And what I mean by that is I'm going to be drawing characters in the style of AVA/M stick figures! Both regular and in chibi style.

Examples:

(If you follow @/a-student-out-of-time, you probably already seen this little chibi drawing of Umeko Hayase, who belongs to the mod himself, I made for fun since I sent this in an ask yesterday. I'm using this drawing since it best represents what I will do for the chibi sticks.)

All art requests for this will be digital and fully colored, but won't be fully rendered. I want to keep the drawings simple and easy to make for myself for as long as I keep requests open.

With that out of the way, here are some rules for what to send in:

Requests for AVA/M characters are obviously welcome and I will be using my own designs & headcanons for them when completing your requests.

For those who followed me for my DRA & SDRA2 stuff (mostly SDRA2), I will also do art for characters from the duology! They will just be turned into stick figures, hehe. (I may even do canon characters from the Danganronpa series in general if anyone sends requests for them.)

(Also, if you want either AIkado or IRLkado in your request, please specify which one you want. Same goes for other characters in SDRA2 if you want their teenager or adult versions.)

OCs (and sonas) are also allowed, whether Danganronpa, AVA/M, or not! A reference is required, though. And if your OC isn't a stick for AVA/M, I suggest giving me a specific color you want me to use for the OC that you feel fits them best since these will be done in the stick figure style.

No NSFW! I do not make that kind of stuff in my art, and anyone that requests that will be ignored or blocked if repeatedly asked.

Shipping is allowed, but anything that involves incest, child/minor x adult, and abusers x victims will be ignored and blocked. And yes, that includes adopted siblings/children, so no Mikako X Yamato and Mango X Purple nonsense. I will smite you on sight.

While I do enjoy toxic yaoi/yuri (*gestures to my Sannotori stuff*), the point of these art requests is to make fun and fluffy stuff, so if you request a ship like Sannotori, I will make sweet and kind art for them.

I have the right to NOT do a ship if I'm uncomfortable with it or just don't like it. (ex. Mango X Navy, Alan X Anyone, Chosen X Second/Orange, Mikado X Sora or Yuki, Mitch X Anyone, etc.)

(This includes shipping in SDRA2 in general due to a certain twist that makes it...a little strange. While I'm pretty sure all the characters are adults, I decided that it's best to treat it as more of a case by case basis and how big the age gaps are.)

I will draw a max of three characters per request.

If the request is a ship, please specify it to be romantic, otherwise I will assume it's just a friendly interaction between two (or more) characters. Or use their ship name (with the characters' names as well just to make sure I know which ones I'm doing).

If you have a specific scene for a request, tell me in your ask. Otherwise I will just do whatever comes to mind first. Edit: I forgot to mention this but this applies to which style you want me to do between regular stick or chibi. My bad. ^^;

Requests will be fluff and kind only! As mentioned before, the point of this is to do something nice and relaxing for everyone involved. And personally, I am not in the mood to make angst. Please respect that.

(Funny shitpost requests are also allowed, of course.)

I will only take requests through my asks, no where else.

And I believe that's it. This list of rules may get updated if anything else is brought to my attention, but yeah! I think I'm gonna leave these requests open for about a month so this will last until December 7th, 2024, at midnight! Any requests I haven't gotten around to by the deadline will still be completed if they're ones I want to do but anything sent after the date will be ignored.

Feel free to send in requests!

[shittyjakeenglish]

Day 173

postcanon/epilogues. oh hes? hes not okay is he??

[autisticlalna]

where did Wanderer get that clock from, do you think?

[psychotic-nonsense]

Steddie Week Day 4: Trade / Body swap

------- it starts off super rough, warning for suicidal thoughts/intent and brief descriptions of gore -------

Steve is going to die.

He went to his room for privacy. His thoughts have gotten so loud lately, headaches so deep he can hardly see, and he just needed a moment to breathe.

But then he went to sit on his bed, and fell straight through it into the Upside Down.

Panicked, Steve had scrambled to get up. A hand had reached down to help, and without thinking, he grabed it.

Then he recoiled with how cold and rotten it felt. He looked up to face its owner, and was met with Barbara Holland. Half eaten, swollen faced, glossy eyed, dead Barbara.

When he tried to crawl away from her, two hands reached down to forcefully haul him up from the ground. Hands that were soaking wet, filling the thick air with an equally suffocating metallic stench. As soon as Steve regained his footing, he whirled around and backed away from the moving corpses.

It's Billy Hargrove. Bloody, beaten, black veined Hargrove, skinny from the chunks taken out of his torso and swaying with the imbalance of it.

They began speaking, bemoaning in their haunting voices how he let them die and left them to rot, Steve the Hero running like the true coward he was. The forest came alive with the chittering of Demobats, underneath it all an unrelenting mantra. I told you to make him pay, why did I have to pay in his stead, you didn't even kill him, you lost you lost you lost and I died for nothing-

And Steve didn't hear anymore. Because he ran.

He's being Cursed, no one knows it, and he's going to die.

No matter how far he runs, the forest gets no smaller, the calls of animal and ghost alike getting no quieter. He strains, runs though he can't breathe, crying out for help. But all that does is worsen the voices. Calling him a failure, selfish, why does he get to live, why did they have to die-

Steve loses his footing. Skids forward over the rough ground further than he should, unable to stop. Then his feet fall over a sudden ledge and he isn't slowing down and his clawing hands are barely able to catch a stray hanging branch before he's dangling over a cliffside.

His breaths are heaving, and his hands tense hard to keep hold of the branch. He knows he shouldn't but the creature sounds have only gotten louder, so he looks down.

Hundreds of feet down it's a rolling mess of black vines, dark smoke, and demo-creatures. They're all lunging for him, their snarls and screeches mixing with the ghostly moans, urging him to just give in submit fall.

A sudden crack breaks through the mess of sound. Steve turns back around, sees the rock holding up his branch begin to splinter, and he's going to die.

In between his desperate panting, words fall out. Words he means that no one who matters will ever hear. "I'm-I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Dustin, Nancy... R-Robin, Barb, Hargrove... I should- should've been more... I'm sorry, I can't-" He's cracking, the last of his desperation crumbling with the further breaks in the rocks. "I can't do it, I'm not... I'm not Max- Max, I'm sorry..." And as the cracks grow and his fingers slip, the tears finally fall. "I'm s-sorry, Ed... Eddie, I'm so sorry... It should've been me..."

And at the same time the crack finishes its journey, Steve lets go.

Everything quiets. Everything goes slow. It's almost freeing, knowing it's all going to be over, even though the terrified faces of his family flash through his head with every tear that falls. He doesn't want it to be over, he wants to live... but what right does he have-

Someone's calling out his name. A voice that gets his eyes to open, shocked at the blatant fear and desperation in it. Someone's falling right behind him, before him, reaching out for him.

Eddie. Eddie Munson. With all the same terror and need and pleading eyes that Steve remembers.

Steve automatically reaches back, shock urging him to beg just once more, somehow catching Eddie's hand. Immediately, he's crushed to Eddie's chest. Arms hold him tight, hands clenching hard at Steve's clothes.

Eddie feels real. Breathes and sobs like he's real. Warmth pulses through his clothes like he's real. Each brush of skin feels solid and soft and desperate and real.

So Steve holds him back. Tight, desperate to not lose him in their fall, no matter how real this may be. Shoves his face into Eddie's shoulder and closes his eyes and feels.

At least he won't go alone... At least in the end, he's not alone...

And then, like an electric shock, the world wakes up with noise. A familiar voice invades his senses, lamenting about a Mr. Crowley, as the world lights up in pure bright white behind his eyes-

Then another shock and he's gasping for air, falling from his suspension onto his bed and rolling off onto the floor.

Steve heaves, trying to regain his senses. The voices of his family surround him, echoing in his delirium, worried and scared. He breathes deep, attempting to respond... but his own voice beats him to it.

He finally opens his eyes, looking up from the ground he was kneeling over. There's no one around him, he's alone in his room.

His room that looks vaguely... fuzzy. And, come to think of it, uncomfortably wrong. There's a large mirror that rests opposite his bed that's now on the wrong wall, and the reflection is clearer than his own surroundings.

Except it's less of a reflection, and more of a portal. Through it, he sees his own body, sitting where Steve is kneeling, and staring at his hands. Shock and confusion is evident in every tremble of his fingers, and this reflection doesn't respond when someone says Steve's name.

There's something about it that feels familiar, a presence that Steve has longed to feel again for months. Steve unconsciously copies the reflection's position, and reaches out unsteadily. He wants to grab what he sees, catch the eye of it at the very least, just to know this is real like it was before.

Then another shock travels through his body, but this time, it lands hard in his fingertips and temples. He recoils sharply, face tensing up with a groan of pain.

But to this, his family reacts. Steve's eyes go wide, and he's suddenly met with reality. No fuzzy surroundings, with everyone right beside him. He shakes his shocked hand, rubs it, watches it flex and move just to convince himself. The presence from before is still there, but stronger now, like the person is right beside him.

He remembers the mirror, looks over at it, and freezes.

The others take notice, look at it too. Then they're freaking out, asking if anyone else can see it too, because it can't be real. Yet to Steve, it feels so so real.

The mirror reflects the room, but wrong. Fuzzy, without the others who are present. Where Steve's reflection should be isn't Steve. It's Eddie.

Dressed the same as he was in his final moments. Eyes as wide as the night they first found him. And that presence - the one Steve only felt during an Upside Down walk, at the front of a winnebago, in front of a trailer covered in vines - no longer feels like its beside Steve. Rather, like it's nestled right inside his heart, his brain.

Like Eddie's sharing the space there with Steve.

[m1d-45]

(what about me?)

summary: even gods get lonely, it just takes them a bit longer than most. but when it hits, it hurts, and hard.

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: major spoilers for mondstat archon quest, mentions of wine, little guy is sad and alone about it :(

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist >

starsnatch cliff is empty more times than it isn’t.

it was a common destination for couples, the silence a welcome break from the bustle of the city of freedom. the stars up above were unblocked, bright, the full rotation of constellations visible by just tilting one’s head to the sky. two majors, twin sets of stars, the three minors orbiting, staring down, watching. the same form, night after night, a bard in green driving away the aspiring couples often enough they learnt to stop trying. a body is there, physically occupying the space, but with how little is being done, the cliff still feels empty. the stars watch, seeing all, as the same body comes and sits, as the same eyes turn to the sky, vacant with memory.

venti didn’t know which constellations were in rotation—he did, that was a lie, he knew every single one and their owners—nor how long they’d be up—liar, liar, liar—but he watched the sky anyway, spinning a cecelia in his hand. the stem was worn, some of the juice clinging to his fingers, but he didn’t set it down. to the left, to the right, the six petals twisting outside of his field of view.

the god of freedom found himself coming back to the same cliff every night, sometimes leaving the angels share earlier to get there quicker. he walked, picking a cecelia as he did, and sat in the same spot at the peak of the cliff.

was he truly free, he wondered, if the stars kept calling him back?

(he knew he was. it was his choice to return, his choice to stay until the sun rose, to take naps in the afternoon to make up for the sleep before coming back, back, back, night after day after night)

the galaxy streaking its way across the sky, blue and purple and greens mixing and blurring, broken only by the bright shine of stars. planets, all locked in their own orbit, worlds he’d never be able to see, all within his sight yet all out of his grasp.

his eyes fell on a star at random.

who lived there, he wondered? what was beyond the atmosphere he knew? how far was the next planet? was there even intelligent life? surely, there must be—you wouldn’t create only one planet with life on it, right? you’d create many races, aliens he couldn’t imagine, all created to thrive on their world and serve under you.

(were they treating you better? had you exited your resting world already, and found another planet to keep you occupied? was teyvat not enough for you? you… you’d tell them if they weren’t doing enough, right? you’d say? you wouldn’t just leave them in the dark, right?)

he wondered how far away you’d gone. he remembered you—of course he did, your visage was engraved in his mind, miles deep and never to erode—and your last moments on teyvat, how you’d promised the archons that you would return soon. that you wouldn’t be far.

of course, ‘far’ was relative. and what was time to a god? how long was ‘soon’ for you? how long would it be until he could be blessed with your presence again? the little of your aura that bled through your vessels wasn’t enough- it wasn’t, and he was horribly selfish for thinking so, but it wasn’t. not when he’d been able to lay his eyes upon your true form, not when he’d felt your skin beneath his as he led you through mondstat for the first time. the small glimpse of you that seeped into the air around your vessels may be enough to rest weary souls, but for a god?

you were the shining light of teyvat, always everywhere. traveling from nation to nation, occasionally visiting off-world but never for long, never, he never had to go without you for more than a year or two at a time, he never had to feel erosion start to sap at his life-

the stars grew blurry, and venti hastily wiped the tears away, continuing to search the sky.

he knew he was eroding. every god was. memories, resilience, patience, all of it fading. mortals (part of his mind flinched, but he was right, he was mortal, he could die) weren’t meant for the power of the divine, the gnoses grating against the walls of their soul. it was never a problem before, not when they had you, you to temper the flame of creation, you to brush your hand over a wayward god and breathe life back into their heart, you with your endless compassion, to accept what felt like overwhelming and discard it as trivial.

barbatos was eroding without you. every god was. the ley lines were acting up, the abyss growing stronger, the eons without your presence turning teyvat into a hollow husk. and yet, the pathetic little he discarded from your vessels had begun to heal it anyway.

why did you use vessels? you had to know it was easier to descend yourself, right? to let flowers bloom in your wake and the breeze brush grass from your clothes, to tuck ei’s hair behind her ear and let empathy back into her mind. your vessels did a lot, but they could not manage all- murata, focalors, the tsaritsa and her wretched fatui- you could fix it all, all with a blink and a smile, a gentle hand across the earth to sew it at the seams.

he was being idealistic. he knew he was. and yet, he could not help but to wish—wish, he wanted to laugh at the irony—that your return ‘soon’ would be within his lifetime.

he wanted to see you again. he wanted the scars across his soul to heal, for his empty, cracked cup to be filled with you. he wanted to go back to how it was, when ei could smile freely and the tsaritsa wasn’t so cold, when the wind blew softly, carrying the sound of laughter. time only turned one way, yet he wanted to reverse it, to force the universe in rewind, to when his greatest worry was which song to play you at lunch. he wanted to bring a bottle of dandelion wine and watch as morax insisted upon osmanthus, as rukkhadevata rolled her eyes with a smile and suggested how about tea instead, it’s barely noon.

he was selfish. every god was, to an extent, but he…

as venti looked up at the stars, he couldn’t help but pray that one of them was you.

[sleeve-sleeve]

ok first murder drones now spooky month depression

[timechange]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 — “don’t need money, don’t take fame.”

APRIL 28, 2011

“Dad?”

Marty is never, ever gonna get tired of hearing that. He immediately stops, setting his pen down and the freshly signed CDs aside and giving his full attention to Emmett, who is hanging around the doorway like he still isn’t sure, after almost thirteen years, if he’s allowed to come in.

“Hey, kiddo,” Marty greets warmly, his son flashing him a small smile. “What’s goin’ on?”

Emmett looks around before stepping inside, and Marty is reminded of when Ellie, after input from Jules and Verne, assigned everyone animals when she was nine. Uncle Doc’s a mantis shrimp, she’d proclaimed, Auntie Clara’s a bear, Dad’s a whale, Mom’s a raven, and Emmett’s a pangolin! While he’s not sure about the rest of her picks, her choice for her brother… Yeah, at times like this he can see the resemblance.

“Dad…” he tries again. “Dad, did we ruin your life?”

Marty’s kind of glad his abject, heart shattering horror at that statement coming from his son outweighs his impulse to laugh in disbelief at a statement that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Of course not,” he reassures, opening his arms just in case his boy didn’t feel like he was too big for a hug. His son folds himself into him, burying his head in his shoulder. “The day you and Ellie were born,” Marty tells him, rubbing his back, “was pretty much the best day of my life.”

“…Even though Mom almost broke your hand?” Emmett asks, voice muffled, and Marty laughs.

“Yeah, even then. Y’know, if I could go back,” which he could, but his boy didn’t need to know that right yet, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Emmett starts to pull away and Marty lets him go, but still holds him at arm’s length.

“Now,” father asks son, “where’s all this coming from, huh? You’re not hanging around that Tannen kid again, are you?”

Emmett’s face twists in disgust.

“No, Dad, are you nuts? That whole family’s crazy.”

“Attaboy,” Marty says proudly.

“...I found some of your old concert videos on YouTube,” Emmett finally admits. “And Dad… you look like you’re havin’ the time of your life. How come you gave it all up? It was because of us, wasn’t it?” His brown eyes are big and watery and Marty squeezes his shoulders.

“Aw, Em,” Marty sighs. “I had a blast on tour, you’re right. Hangin’ out with the guys, getting to see the world… It was a lot of fun for a while, but when it stopped being fun, we quit. And I have a blast here, too, with you and your sister and your mom. If you ask me… that right there’s the adventure of a lifetime. I love music, and I’m always gonna play music, but it was never about any kinda fame or fortune for me.” What would superstardom be like? He can barely keep up with the merch and the interviews and the producers and the long nights at the recording studios and the music videos as it is. He’d hate being so far away from home, never getting a moment’s peace, never being able to breathe.

“Then… what was it about?” Emmett asks.

“Believing in myself,” Marty says after a moment of thought. “Getting my voice heard. Y’know, I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“Really?” Emmett breathes, awestruck, as if unable to conceive such a thing. “But everybody says you’re like Ellie.”

“And I am.” It takes the wind out of him sometimes, how similar he and his daughter are. She’s just as fiery, just as creative, just as stubborn. Everyone’s always thought that, just like how people have always compared Emmett to Jennifer. But when he looks at his daughter, so often he sees his wife’s determination and intelligence, and when he looks at his son… sometimes he has to double check he’s not in the DeLorean.

“But I’m also like you, Em. It’s hard as hell being a kid, y’know? I remember. You got so many ideas and so many thoughts and you feel like you’re in this world that you don’t really understand yet and that’s gonna shoot you down every chance it gets. I just wanted somebody to see me, but that’s a scary thing. I tried real hard to pretend like I was tough and to make like I wasn’t afraid of anything… but I was terrified, kid. Still am, sometimes.” Marty rubs the back of his neck. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s okay not to be sure of yourself yet, and it’s okay to be open about your feelings. And whenever you wanna talk, I’m here for you, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Got it?”

“Got it.” Emmett smiles and hugs him again. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too. So damn much.” Marty kisses the top of his son’s head and ruffles his dirty blond hair, which is immediately greeted with protest.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 25: "They're not breathing!" + Storm

Read it on Ao3

- Hyrule & Legend

- Summary: Hyrule uses the last of his magic to save his brother's life

CW for temporary character death, blood and injury

-------------

He’s not breathing.

Hyrule stares down his brother, his predecessor (for goodness sake, they just figured that one out), broken and bleeding and pale. 

“Legend…”

He murmurs his name as a prayer, a plea, a demand. His voice cracks at the end, betraying the sorrow that swells within him like the waves he has seen in Wind’s Hyrule.

He waits for the response, reassuring and teasing, probably with a hint of sarcasm. And while he waits, the rain pours down and the thunder shakes the earth and the lightning streaks across the sky. It storms in a mockery of the boy who hates storms, yet faces them with all the ferocity they embody, all the fervor and bravery.

The boy who has fallen before them and risen again.

“Come on, Ledge.”

Shaking fingers press to a pulse point, searching for the weakest flutter of a heartbeat. Nothing.

No response. No thunder of a hero’s pounding heart. 

Hyrule chokes on a ragged sob.

It had all happened so fast, too fast to understand, too fast to stop. The fight had been long and arduous. The monsters just kept coming and with it only being the two of them, it had begun to grow exhausting. And when a towering stal-monster had swung its claymore there had been no time to lunge for his brother.

Hyrule cringes, remembering the nauseating sound of the weapon connecting with Legend’s body. He had gone flying, hit the ground in a tangle of bloodied limbs, and not moved since.

But I need you to. Please, Legend. 

Their potions are gone, horribly understocked to begin with (they hadn’t thought they were headed towards a fight; it was just supposed to be a quick patrol), and drunk early in the battle. He’s all but drained of magic. There is hardly enough to perform something simple, much less a healing spell. 

But he has to do something, he can’t just sit here and wait for the moment when the others arrive (if they ever do, if some of the plentiful monsters didn’t slip away and attack them too). He can’t just sit here and watch Legend die.

(No, he’s not already dead even though his chest no longer rises and falls and he is limp and pale and devoid of the life he holds and fights for. Hyrule won’t let himself believe anything else.)

Doing nothing isn’t an option. So, Hyrule takes a deep breath and steels himself. Using magic that isn’t truly there is always excruciating (he would know, he has done it more times than he’d like to admit). But he’ll live. And most important of all, so will Legend.

The rain beats down and the thunder still rolls across the plains. Hyrule turns his face up into it, eyes closed, allowing it a moment to wash the blood from him, the fear. Lightning flashes so bright he can see it through his eyelids.

And in one swift movement he reaches out and places his hands on Legend’s chest. 

Usually, magic pours out of him, an effortless waterfall of the power that fills his very being. This time he drags it out kicking and screaming, forcing it through his veins, scraping as it goes. It shoots through his trembling fingertips, hot and agonizing, and Hyrule directs it into Legend. Every little bit of it.

He will give everything until that heart beats again. Even down to the last drop of magic. 

His body protests, desperately trying to hang on to the fading shreds of power, shrieking in warning. Hyrule’s vision swims with shades of light and darkness. The rushing in his ears drowns out even the thunder. Everything hurts. His insides are on fire, his veins burning up, his head pounding out the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat. 

Let go, everything within him screams at him, begs him. Stop this before you lose everything.

He cries out, sharp and strangled and hoarse, face upturned to the sky. The rain is like molten lava now, yet he shivers beneath its touch. His world has narrowed to nothing except this – pain and the goal he endures it to achieve. 

Not much longer now and he will have no choice but to succumb to the rising darkness.

It comes like the onward march of life, inevitable and terrifying. Hyrule battles against it.

Not yet. I can’t stop yet.

Come on, Legend. Breathe!

The chest beneath him jolts and spasms. Someone begins to cough, hacking and breathless. A slumbering heart flutters to life.

Hyrule drags open his eyes. A pair of sharp blues meet his hazel, blinking dazedly at him. 

“R-rulie?” 

Hyrule lets out something between a sob and a laugh.

It worked. Oh, thank Hylia, it worked!

“H-hey Ledge,” he slurs, voice thick with exhaustion and remnant pain. His body still aches, phantom agony snaking up his limbs. 

You pushed too hard, it whispers, in his veins and in his head. He ignores it.

It’s nothing he doesn’t already know. And to be honest, he doesn’t care. Legend is alive, and that’s all that matters. 

“What happened?” Legend glances around, pupils dilating slightly as he tries to comprehend the rain-drenched destruction around him. Then, he looks back at Hyrule, taking in his undoubtedly sorry state. “Rulie did…did you...” 

He drags his gaze up to meet his once more, something broken within them. It makes Hyrule startle slightly. He has never seen Legend look like that before. So open and vulnerable, so hopeful, yet so sad.

“Did you save me?”

Hyrule gives him a shaky smile. “I couldn’t just let my best friend die.”

Legend swallows, throat bobbing with the effort. “But…but your magic…”

Hyrule leans forward and puts a hand on his shoulder. The ground tilts threateningly in response. It won’t be long and he’ll be lying down beside Legend. 

Ah, well. A nap sounds nice anyway.

“I’m…I’m okay, Ledge. It’ll replenish. It’s not the first time I’ve done something l-like this.”

Legend just stares at him for a moment. Then, he lets his head fall back into the mud with a defeated splash. A shaky chuckle escapes from cracked, bloodied lips. But it is a triumphant sound, a declaration that he is back, that he is alive.

“You idiot.”

The urge to lay down is too strong to deny any longer. With a trembling sigh, Hyrule settles down beside his brother, cringing a bit as the chilly mud clings to his battered body. His hand travels down to find Legend’s and he entwines their fingers, smiling a bit as he realizes his grasp is warm. 

It had been growing cold just a few moments ago. And Legend is all flame and fire, all blinding light that can’t be put out. It isn’t right for him to look and feel like ice.

“You’re the idiot who almost died on me,” he mumbles, scooting a little closer. “Don’t you dare do that again.”

Legend gives his hand a weak squeeze. For a long moment he is quiet and Hyrule begins to drift off in the serene embrace of the dwindling rain. When he speaks his voice is hardly above an exhausted, strained whisper. But Hyrule hears it all the same.

“Thanks, Rulie. I owe you one.”

And as Hyrule fades away, he smiles.

He’d do it again. A thousand times, he would do it again.

[coloursofaparadox]

i just want more media and literature where the protagonist gets like. dehumanized. or demonized or possessed or changed into something that's not quite human one day and then they just have existential crises about it. and they suffer. is that too much to ask