#But also supports unfamiliar familiar

[my-name-is-bunnyfoxy]

POV: You want to join an art challenge for August regarding TMNT but the person hosting it is someone who wrote a Mikey gets adopted by the Rise turtles and you also fear that you doing it would come off as you supporting the creator meaning you support their fanfic that doesn't give any respect to 2012 and makes Mikey look like a damn crybaby and also for some reason calls him Casper and not to mention this person supports Unfamiliar Familiar

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

[sillyblues]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: miguel tells you how annoying you are

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: last and second part of annoying is here!! thank you so much for the huge support yall broke my app my notifications weren’t loading properly lmao THANK YOU! this was supposed to be just a short one but here we are with a part two and a bit bigger word count m’gonna need rest and need more time for the preggo fic

part 1

Wordlessly, you left the team. You returned to your own Earth and did your own thing again. There was a slight tinge of unfamiliarity, knowing that you might never work with other spider people, your friends, again, but you forced the feeling down.

Miguel’s outburst haunted you wherever you went. Even as you fought villains that disturbed the peacefulness of your home, even as you mingled with the other civilians and hung out with your friends, even as you laid down in the comfort of your bed, his words would constantly echo through your head, and they would threaten the fall of your tears every single time.

If Miguel thought you were annoying, what about your other friends? Do they think you were bothersome as well? Maybe, you bitterly thought as you brought your knees to your face. Maybe the civilians don’t like you as well. The thought of the people you treasure and care for so dearly, the people whom you devoted most of your life to save, the people whom you risk getting hurt every day for, hating you, left you breathless.

More tears fell, and you gasped. The ache in your heart was too much to bear and seemed to sting your entire being. You clutched your chest as you laid sideways on your bed, pillows and blanket long scattered on the floor. You tried to muffle your cries, but it was useless, as they still vibrated through the room of your apartment.

Oh, god. Please don’t hate me. Don’t hate me, please. Don’thatemepleasedon’thatemeplease—

“[Name]?” the familiar voice momentarily halted you in your weeping. You slowly rose a bit, supporting yourself on your arm and looked towards the source of it. Peter’s worried look greeted you as he crawled himself out of your window. 

“Oh, [Name].” you wavered at his heartbroken voice. He immediately rushed in to hug you. He sat on your bed beside you and embraced you. He rocked you back and forth, one hand on the back of your head that leaned into the crook of his neck, and one hand caressed your back.

“P-Peter, I ca– I can’t,” you hiccupped, and with shaking fingers, you gripped his suit tight. You felt your heart would burst with the way it was beating so fast and hard, ringing in your ears. “I can’t— I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay, [Name]. I got you. I’m here, okay?” his voice was slightly muffled by the top of your head, but you could still hear him. “I want you to listen to me. Stay with me, yeah?”

You tried your best to respond, but it felt like your body wasn’t listening to you. He pulled back a little and held your face in his hands. You look at his eyes full of undisguised concern overflowing, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hate you too. You gathered what was left of your little strength and nodded weakly.

“Can you tell me three things around your room?” you try to look around as you cling to his arms. You looked away from his eyes and looked around you. Your old lampshade provided you with dim lighting in your dark, cold room. Your messy books were in disarray on the table. You saw a mirror. You saw yourself and how miserable you looked. Your face was wet with tears, and your eyes were red. You also saw how Peter looked at you with such solicitude, and you want to cry all over again.

“Um, lampshade.” You said and winced at the painful scratch in your throat and your hoarse voice. “Books. Mirror.”

“Good job. You did well. Can you move three body parts for me?” you unclasped your hands from his arms and tried to clench and unclench them. You wiggled your head out of his hold, embarrassment starting to creep onto you being seen so sticky and so wet and such a mess. It was fortunate that he understood and he chuckled. You were silent for a moment, and you didn't know what else to move so you settled on headbutting Peter.

“Ow! Of all things, really? Can't believe this is what I get,” he grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. You giggled at his exaggerated expression and unknowingly to you, your tears had stopped flowing, and only hiccups remained.

“Are you feeling better, [Name]? You can talk to me, my shoulder is vacant for you. Or do you want me to just stay quiet? Because yeah, I can do either. Just tell me what to do,” you chuckled even more at that. “I’ll even give you a pass for laughing at me.”

Seeing Peter comfort you like that, there was a sense of relief wash over you. It was obvious he was being genuine with you and if he wasn't, he most likely wouldn't even have the patience to sit with you and let you cry on him.

“It's nothing, um, it's just that,” you sighed as you weakly played with your fingers. The words are lodged in your throat, and you slowly breathe out. He looked at you with encouragement to take it slow, to breathe and you did. “I found out people at the headquarters think I talk too much and they didn’t really like me. Then I made Miguel mad, and I learned how I was annoying him. He probably hates me. And, uh, it got me thinking, what if you and Jess and Hobie think the same way? What if everyone thinks the same way?”

There was an urge to cry again, but it felt like you had cried it all out. There was none left for you to cry anymore.

“Wow, I knew Miguel was all bite and no bark, but I didn’t expect he’d bite that deep. What the hell is wrong with him?” the genuine disbelief made you sputter and chuckle. 

“First of all, whoever doesn’t like you is automatically wrong. I mean, who could not like you? You literally make everyone’s day. Jess loves gushing with you about her husband, and Hobie loves talking about how his punk stuff and fighting the literal government which I think it’s really pretty cool of him don’t tell him that he’s going to tell me I should do it as well and I just can’t,” he said. “And I love talking to you because you’re funny and so positive you just know how to make me cheer up. Besides, I’m talking too much now, aren’t I? Always have been. But did you think I was annoying?”

“No! I never once thought you were one.” You replied without a beat.

“Exactly. Us either. Look, [Name], everyone loves you. Trust me when I say that.” He said with confidence and finality that you had no choice but to believe him,

“But, Miguel..”

“He's stupid. I know. Don’t mind what he said because it’s all bullshit anyways.” He grins. “Lyla told me what happened. I’m not taking his side because what he said is just wrong and I get you, you know? Having to hear all of that hurts. But from the bottom of my heart, I think Miguel did not mean what he said. Like, all the pent-up stress got to his head and boom, it suddenly burst out. I’m not saying that it was a valid reason, no. I just wanted to let you know that he doesn’t truly think you’re annoying, you know?”

“Besides, from all the time I knew him, I had never seen him genuinely enjoy his time with someone nor mope so bad when you didn’t come to the headquarters anymore.” He said with a deadpan expression at the end.

“Pfft, really?”

“Yes, really.”

There was a pause, it wasn’t awkward but it made you appreciate him more for coming here for you. He smiled at you and you did too, leaning on his shoulder for support. He hugged you sideways, one arm rubbing the side of your arm and you closed your eyes.

“I missed you, [Name]. We all did.”

“...I missed you all too.”

.

.

.

The decision to come back to the headquarters was a bit hard but you took it slow with Peter’s support. He never rushed you nor forced you to come back which you really appreciated and when you did return, you were sure you didn’t regret it. Jess and Hobie immediately latched onto you, they hugged you tight and told you how much they missed you so bad. They asked you how had you been, if you were alright, if were you hurt, and all that. Seeing their sincere worry for you, you smiled hard enough to hurt your cheeks and slowly you were going back to the old, happy you.

What changed right now was that you avoided Miguel. When you first returned to the headquarters, Miguel was there a bit far away from you. You could feel his earnest gaze at you and you looked at him briefly. The bags underneath his eyes seemed to be bigger and you wonder if he had gotten a bit bigger too. A reminder of his words rang instantly through your head and you breathed deeply silently. You quickly looked away as soon as you laid your eyes on him and that remained true for a couple of weeks.

During the briefing of your missions, he would look at you expectantly as if you would stand beside him like you always did. But you usually stood nearby Hobie who was at the entrance of his office. Sometimes you stood beside Jess and Peter which was a bit near him but not quite so.

“You’re not gonna be near him?” Hobie once asked as he lay down on a flat surface. He nudged his head in Miguel’s direction who was looking at you a couple of times as he talked about the mission details. You smiled bitterly. 

“Aight, guess I got more time to catch up with you, huh?” the tip of his lips lifted up, “Wanna leg it and come join the protest in my home?”

“Oh no.” you silently snorted.

“What? It’s fun and we’re doing the right thing, you know.”

“Hobie, are you listening?” Miguel’s voice interrupted you both. You look away, not yet keen on looking at him.

“Yes, big boss. Ears open for you, don’t worry about me,” he stretched his arms before he folded them to lay his head on his clasped fingers. You wondered why he hadn’t called you when you weren’t really listening to him as well. Maybe he targeted Hobie on purpose to make you feel uncomfortable? You bit your lip. No, that can’t be. Peter said Miguel didn’t hate you and you trusted him so despite the voices haunting voices once more, you decided to believe in him.

Sometimes, you two would meet outside the building on his favourite Mexican stand outside the building. Maybe it was a habit formed over the time you knew him that you would buy him his empanadas. Now that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him just yet, you bought some for yourself. You could not deny that you missed buying his food, only to eat half of it yourself.

“Ah, it’s [Name]! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Mrs. Flores exclaimed as soon as she saw your walking figure towards her. You two have gotten close a bit back then and has since then insisted you to call her ‘Abuela’. “Have you lost weight? You’ve gotten smaller since I last saw you!”

You didn’t think you did but before you could deny she was immediately cooking some empanadas, “Just wait, I’ll cook some for you, okay? No need to pay.”

“Abuela, thank you, but I can’t accept this without payment. Please, let me pay,” you opened your wallet and took some money but she wasn’t having it.

“No! I told you I don’t need any money! Do I look like I need some, huh? Don’t make me angry,” she threateningly pointed her clamps at you. You just sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness was stronger than any villain you had fought. Suddenly, a figure crept behind you and you paid it no mind, figuring it was some other customer but the voice surprised you.

“Buenas tardes, Señora. Lo de siempre por favor.” You looked at Miguel in reflex. He wore a plain white shirt and trousers and oh, he was so close to you. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but hesitation dripped from him so you took the opportunity to look away and stepped to your side to create some distance between you.

“Oh, ¿es tú novio, [Name]? ¡Lo sabía! Why didn’t you say so? He’s been the one buying empanadas instead when you were gone.” You choked on your own saliva and embarrassment immediately crept up your cheeks. You coughed it out as she side-eyed you. Miguel was silent and you wonder if he wasn’t going to clear this misunderstanding up.

“You had a fight, didn’t you?”

“No, Abuela, he’s not my boyfriend—”

“He isn’t? ¡Qué hombre más estúpido! Are your eyes not properly working? What are you still waiting for?” she snorted at him. The bubbling noises from the oil fill the silence as you didn’t really know how to respond in this situation. 

“Well whatever, you will fix it, won’t you?” she glared at him. In that moment, you felt loved once more and you were starting to truly believe that those who said you were annoying were wrong. You bit your lip. You did not deny to yourself that you were expecting to hear his answer.

“I will.” He replied with such determination and resolution as he looked at you. Your heart throbbed, you saw how much he wanted to fix things right with you and you didn’t know how to feel. Glad? Happy? But you also felt upset at yourself because you almost wanted to smile just because of that and it felt like you were too easy in forgiving him even though he hurt you so much. You quickly dismissed the confusing feelings down and when Abuela gave you the empanadas, you hurriedly slipped some bills while you took the food and almost ran off.

But everything would have to come to an end, including this avoidance of yours of him. You sorted out your thoughts, and your feelings, each day as you avoided him like a plague after numerous encounters because you feared that if you saw him one more time, you would burst out and say things that you didn’t mean like he did. 

On the day that you decided to finally stop everything and just talk to him, you were beaten to it by Miguel. You were looking through the windows in the building and stared at the beautiful blue skies and the white clouds that decorated it. The flying cars and the mega train running vertically were like the birds and the beam of sunlight back in your home and you were reminded of the differences you and Miguel had. 

“[Name],” his voice was so soft, so unlike the tone he had the day he yelled at you. You admit you had gotten comfortable with the pain you felt since that day that you still wanted to evade his gazes and attempts to reach out to you. But the rational part of you, the one that grew from the pain, knew you had to meet his eyes this time. To let him reach you this time. And so you did. You looked at him, you looked at his eyes that were looking at you so desperately, so hesitatingly.

“Can we talk, please? Just the two of us,” he said but to you, it felt like he pleaded with the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw was clenched, awaiting your words that seemed like it would decide his fate.

“Okay,” you breathed out and he did too. The crease on his forehead slowly thinned out and his shoulders moved back. You knew that if someone different saw Miguel like this, they would think he was normal and that he wasn’t acting differently. But you knew better. Despite the tough shell he portrayed, there was a man vulnerable just like you. You just had a soft shell.

You two went to his office and the door closed behind you two. He asked Lyla to not let anyone enter for at least a while so nobody would disturb you both. She saw you and waved brightly at you. She then nodded and finally disappeared.

“Before you say anything, can you honestly answer this one question I have? Just one, please,” you asked him, nerves started to creep onto you and you wanted to look away so bad but you have to search for the truth in his eyes. You have to know his answer to your question.

“Sure, yes. I’ll be honest, I swear.” He promised you.

“Did you ever really think I was annoying? That all I do was nothing but cause trouble for you?”

“Never.” 

“Liar.” You were disappointed. You were not as stupid and oblivious as others thought of you. There was a part of yourself that knew that you were bothering them. That you were bothering him. But you couldn’t help it. You cared for him and if talking too much, if bothering him would make him distracted from the grief and the pain he had from Gabriella then you would gladly do it.

“No, I wasn’t lying, [Name]—” you looked away. He couldn’t even be honest with you. Were you that unworthy of honesty? That was all you had asked. You clenched your fist and let your nails dig into your palm. “Listen to me, please.”

You start to walk away.

“[Name], por favor,”

You were nearing the exit.

“I— fuck it, yes! I didn’t like you because you were so annoying. I hated you.” You immediately looked back at him. Disbelief was obvious in your face and tears fell from your eyes. You felt a sense of betrayal at this. If he hated me so much, then why did he let me so close to him? Were you just a show to him? Were you entertaining? He was approaching you and strength had left your legs from the shock at what he said but you remained still.

“I hated the way you talked so much I felt like I was losing a part of myself because I wanted to know more about you and listen to you talk. I hated the way you know so much about me. I felt like you could see through me and I was so scared that you would hate me if you knew what I truly am. I hated the way you cared for me like no other because I cared for you too and I was so terrified to lose you too. I hated the way you’re so reckless, you don’t care if you get hurt as long as it’s for others.” He stopped in front of you and tears were also coming out from his eyes. “I hated the way you captured my whole attention whenever you’re there by my side because I can’t look at anything else anymore. I can’t work properly anymore. I can’t think properly anymore and– and I, oh fuck.”

What?

“You’re so annoying because you distract me so much. I hated you because I fell for you and you’re all I could think about and I just don’t know anymore,” he shakily breathed out. His figure was so big but at this moment, you felt like he was so small. His tears ran continuously like a furious stream and you were sure yours were too.

“When you left, it didn’t feel right anymore. I missed you talking to me. I missed you eating my food. I missed you annoying me. I missed you so much it hurts.” His voice turned hoarse and you finally moved. You caressed your hand on his cheeks and he leaned his face against your touch. “Lo siento, [Name]. I really am. Es la verdad, por favor créeme. Por favor…”

“Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried out as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. But you couldn’t really blame him. Because he was the same as you. Despite his flying cars and vertical running train and your birds and beam of sunlight, there was still the same blue sky and white clouds. Despite his tough shell and your soft one, you two were just as vulnerable as the other.

“I’m sorry, don’t hate me please…” he croaked out and gripped onto your suit tight. You leaned back a bit to hold his face in your palms. His face was wet, his hair was a mess, and he looked so haggard. You lean your forehead against his.

“I don’t, I promise. I could never hate you and I hate you for it as well,” you giggled amidst your tears. 

Really, he was such a stupid man and you were so annoying.

tag-list: (i'm sorry if i wasn't able to tag you!) @nxrdamp @um-well @nanasdumbworld @myconglomerateromance @sleepyamaya @harlekin6 @bittersw33t-lotus @saturnknows @miggyoharaswife @innergardentoadpony @asobriquet @mimooyi @misscaller06 @sciencethot @vainillasmil157 @just-a-mothboi @katsukiswrld @zukiizuks @cumbermovels @bigmood-myman @momos-peaches @lunrai @saint-chlorine @themoonsaynotocircus @deputy-videogamer @brittney69 @armins-ocean-seashell @galadrien02 @ranp01 @witherfag @eileen201804 @daryldixonh0e @chinglewingledingledong @mystar-girl57 @lorarri @poopoobuttsy @scarletsloveletter @mimimarvelingmarvel @tfygcdy @skulfan1 @roryrose327 @gamersansblog

[dendroseelie]

unfamiliar feelings | kinich x reader

kinich turns up at your door injured, with an apology and feelings he's not familiar with

word count - 1.8k+

pairing - kinich x reader

warnings - mentions of blood

author's note: uhhh hello genshinblr, i'm veryyy new on here :) and this is my first work on here! i would love it if you could interact - however you'd like, and i would especially love it if you share your thoughts on it! it's a little more rushed than i would have preferred. i've been under the weather but i wanted to put something out at least sooo here it is :) a lil some thing on my fav boy lately heheh anyway feel free to drop in and leave a request if you'd like :) side note folks: saliva is actually good for healing your wounds so don't forget to make out with ur crush when your lips get busted lol

masterlist

request here | rules

“Did I wake you?”

Kinich’s voice is quieter than usual as you open the door to him at some 2:13 am in the night. The shadows being cast upon his face make it difficult for you to see his expressions but the tremble of his body sparks concern through you.

“Kinich, what are you doing here?”

Kinich lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. You step forward as he teeters on his feet, arms wrapping around his torso in support. A gasp leaves your mouth as his body moves from under the shadows and into the soft night light. Blood. Blood and cuts over his face. You’re horrified even more when you realize that you feel some wetness under your hand where your arm wraps around him.

“Uh, I needed some help,” Kinich mutters, body tense as he tries not to lean all his weight on you.

Kinich never asks for help. Things could go awry in a million ways, but Kinich refused to rely on anyone. His pride as most people say, or perhaps his past, as you think, stops him from ever leaning on someone. So to find him at your doorstep at two in the middle of the night, asking for help - must mean it's serious. And that makes your heart sink.

You hurry and tug him inside - he stumbles along.

“What happened?” Your voice drips with concern, the haze that usually slips in with the dwindling hours of the night completely fades.

You carefully aid him to sit on the small couch in your living room and turn to flip on the lights. The sight that greets you as you turn back to face him, makes you freeze in your tracks. “Kinich…”

His lip is busted and there’s a cut above his eyebrow, blood dripping along the side of his face. Your eyes move lower and see a gash over his chest and on the side of his torso. A deep ache squeezes through your heart and you rush into motion.

This is not how you last saw Kinich earlier in the afternoon when you had gotten into an argument, as always, about a commission he accepted. It was not out of the ordinary for you and Kinich to not see eye to eye about how you wanted to do things. This, in general, led to a lot of squabbles - however much of it Kinich would even entertain at all really.

Over the years, you and Kinich had developed somewhat of a friendship, at least whatever semblance of a friendship Kinich allows himself the privilege of. You spent a lot of time hanging out - you, him and Mualani were often found together. And between Mualani’s enthusiasm and his lack thereof, you were somewhere in the middle, somewhere more within Kinich’s comfort zone. And if you were being completely honest…you had grown something similar to a soft spot for this guy over the years. That did not mean Kinich did not frustrate you to the end of your wits.

Either way, holding fondness and affection for Kinich felt like extreme sports given the way he lived - uncaring of how things affected himself and in turn others. The boy was notorious for the way he seemed to hold no concern about his well-being and his tendency to accept dangerous, risky commissions that often felt like he was putting his safety on the line. To add to your worry, he was also hellbent on not accepting help.

So to no one’s surprise when he accepted another commission this morning - one which required him to into a particularly dangerous part of the wildlife all alone - you had gotten into an argument, a more serious one. You were trying to convince him to not take it up. The area was infamous for aggressive saurians and even some ruthless treasure hoarders who were not kind to ‘trespassers’. Kinich refused to drop the commission, insistent on doing it. When you suggested that he take someone along, another experienced adventurer, he had shut you down.

“This commission is paying good money. Sharing the commission means splitting the money, I don’t want to do that.” You doubt that was the only reason, he just did not want additional help, as always. Typical Kinich.

When you offered to tag along, pushing him to let you accompany him he had glared at you. Eyes fierce, words spiteful - “Y/N, you’re only going to make this trip more difficult for me. I don’t need an additional burden to look out for. And can you stop hovering around me like I’m a stupid kid? For Archon’s sake, stop doing that.”

His words had stung. Tears had quickly spring to your eyes and you had looked away from Kinich. So many thoughts rushed into your mind - were you overbearing? Did you bother him too much? He looked so frustrated. Did he dislike you? Just an inconvenience. A burden.

You had swallowed the hurt and nodded. “Okay…” You had whispered, before turning and breaking into a sprint toward your home. He hadn’t stopped you and you didn’t wait around to see the guilt slip into his eyes, fingers twitching by his side aching to stop you and apologize. But he didn’t. You went home and he went on the commission.

You’d come home and cried for some time, eyes red and swollen by the time Mualani came to check in on you in the evening. You didn’t tell her why, but she figured something had happened between you and Kinich. She kept you company and tried cheering you up with some gossip from her clan and stories from the market. After dinner, she had left and you had gotten into bed early with a book to keep your mind off the boy.

Now, you stood over the same boy who sat on your couch bloodied and bruised. You carefully yet swiftly assess the severity of his wounds before you head back into your bathroom to fetch your first aid box. You quickly sit in front of him. His face is contorted in pain and it tugs at your heartstrings.

“Can you help me take your shirt off? This one seems bad, let’s look at this first.”

Kinich murmurs his agreement and sits up straight to assist you in unzipping his top. Your hands come in contact with the bare skin of his shoulders as you push off the black fabric. Kinich trembles beneath your touch. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The gash across his abdomen comes into view as Kinich collapses back against the couch and you suck in a deep breath at the sight. “Kinich… What the fuck did you get into?”

You quickly get into work, sanitizing the area and cleaning it up with antiseptic wipes to get a better look at the wound. It doesn’t seem deep enough to require stitches but it’s bad enough to scar. Bad enough for the blood to have soaked through his top. “I think you should check with the town healer tomorrow, Kinich.”

“It’s okay, I don’t think it’s that bad,” he said, all the while wincing at the sting of the alcohol. His muscles ripple under your touch, goosebumps littering his skin as you work. 

You press your lips, holding back your words. Ever so stubborn. You wanted to avoid a repeat of the afternoon, now was not the time. You work in silence after that, the only sound being that of Kinich’s winces and the sharp breaths he sucks in through his teeth.

After you bandage his abdomen securely enough, you move on to the wounds on his face. You watch his face closely before leaning in. Your own breath stutters at the proximity and you find yourself clearing your throat as you apply ointment over his eyebrow.

Kinich’s eyes never leave you. His gaze seems fixed upon you. As you move on to cleaning his busted lips, he catches your eyes and the intense look in his makes your movements pause.

“What?” You ask, heat burning your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. For what I said… Earlier in the day.”

You nod, movements resuming as you dab the cotton ball to his lip. “You should be.”

You retract your touch, reaching out for the ointment. Kinich’s hand shoots up to grab yours. “Y/N… I truly am sorry.” He sighs. A pained expression flickers through his face and you’re almost worried his pain is getting worse but then he takes in a deep breath. He schools his expressions, eyes fluttering shut for a second before the sun-like gaze is back on yours. “I- I’m not the best at this. At asking for help or simply accepting it. I’m- I’m not familiar with having someone…someone caring for me the way you do. I’ve learned to be alone. I had to learn to be alone very early on and you know why.” He looks away, cheeks flushing pink. “Sometimes I don’t know what to do with the care you show for me. It’s not something I’m used to, not something I know. B-but I do know that I like that you care. I like that you look out for me. And I want to do the same for you.”

“Kinich…”

“I’m not that dense, Y/N. I know a thing or two about feelings. But…I’m sorry that I’m not too good at knowing what to do with these feelings. So…I wanted to start with apologizing.”

“Apology accepted.” You smile, fingers aching to touch. So you do. You raise your palm to cup his cheek, making him meet your gaze. “You were an absolute dick to me earlier and I did not like how you spoke to me. I care about you Kinich. So, so deeply. I know feelings like this are…well, daunting to come to terms with. But, they’re something I want to share with you.”

A small smile curves onto his lips. He shifts his face to press a kiss into the inside of the palm on his cheek. A shiver runs through you at the feather-light brush of his lips. Your eyes zero in on his mouth. Kinich’s smile deepens. His hand reaches out, slipping under your hair, settling on the nape of your neck, your eyes flitter close. He tugs you closer before you can figure out what’s happening. His lips press into yours, and something warm erupts beneath your ribcage, blooming through you like the first, soft rays of dawn splitting through the clouds. You lean in closer, angling your head so you can get a better taste of what lingers upon his soft, soft lips. Kinich’s lips are so soft. He tastes like honey, the rawest kind - sweet and bitter at the same time. There’s a hint of blood, you realize belatedly as your teeth graze the plushness of his bottom lip. The hiss of pain leaving him is what makes you pull apart. Both your lips are glistening with spit, swollen and redder. 

“Sorry,” you whisper abashedly, unable to meet his eyes. “Uh, I forgot about that, let me just put on the ointment.”

As you fidget to fish out the long-forgotten ointment, Kinich stops you for the second time that night. A lop-sided smirk perched upon his inviting lips, eyes mirthful. “Well,” he begins as he tugs you closer. “You know what they say about the healing properties of saliva…”

“Kinich!”

[narnian-neverlander]

What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

I’m also very much using a translator for the Czech parts, so please bear with me and absolutely lemme know if you spot anything wrong!

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje lásko, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláčku, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděli. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

[milf-murdock]

The Accident

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Simon gets the call that you’ve been in an accident and are in the hospital.  Warnings: Health scare, mention of hospitals, accident (non graphic), brief mention of injuries (non graphic), hurt/comfort, Soft Simon  A/N: This piece is dedicated to a very sweet anon who has been through a lot. Anon, I hope this brings you some comfort <3 I’ve also decided to submit it to @glitterypirateduck's May Writing Challenge! This is one of my favorite tropes, so I hope you all enjoy! Special thank you to @sim0nril3y for taking a look and for all the support

The knife glides effortlessly through the tomato, the metal utensil familiar in Simon’s grip. He makes quick work of the produce, fingers moving rapidly and precisely. “Knife skills aren’t just for the field,” he chuckles to himself as he adds the chopped remains to a bowl before turning his blade on a shallot. 

Just as he slices into the root, the clattering vibration of his phone against the countertop interrupts. Simon frowns at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. Not many people had this number; he wasn’t one to get stray phone calls, which is exactly how he likes it. He has half a mind to send it to voicemail, but something tugs at his edges. At the last second he swipes across the screen and raises the phone to his ear. The line is empty for a moment. 

“Simon?” The sound of your hoarse voice has Simon’s spine straightening, instantly on high alert. 

“What’s happened.” The sharp words come out more like a statement than a question. Simon’s heartbeat quickens. 

“I’m okay,” you start, but your wobbly voice betrays you. "But there was an accident—" Simon is in motion. Dinner is forgotten on the counter as he heads for the door, stepping into his boots on the way. 

“Where are you?” There’s a commotion in the background, some kind of beeping that Simon can’t make out. He catches your hesitation as you wait to reply. 

“Love. Where. Are. You.” His words are clipped, and for a split second he fears the phone might actually splinter in his hands given how hard he’s clenching the device. 

“I’m in A&E. I—the ambulance just brought me here.” 

Simon’s world tilts before him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breathing in deep. One single stabilizing breath is all he allows himself before opening his eyes, resolute determination clear on his face as a decade of training takes over. 

“I’m on my way.” The phone clicks off as he grabs the keys off the hook by the door and rushes to the car.

The drive is a blur; he doesn’t pay attention to how fast he’s going, or what color the stoplights may be. Traffic laws are relative—he’s a man on a mission. His sole focus is getting to you. His heart pounds in his chest as he navigates the final turn, the hospital finally coming into view. 

The car barely comes to a full and complete stop at the entryway before Simon’s door flies open. 

“Sir, you can’t park here!” A disgruntled attendant calls out to him as he exits the vehicle, but Simon doesn’t even slow down, stepping around the irritated employee before barreling through the hospital entrance. 

Only to be brought to a halt at the open lobby before him. 

Shit. He hadn’t even thought to ask what room you were in. The frustration intertwines with the panic, and Simon has to force it down. 

He’s here. He’ll find you. 

And so Simon finds himself at the mercy of the kind, elderly receptionist, who seems to be taking her sweet time locating your information. 

Simon tries not to crack the counter beneath his grip, foot tapping against the ground in irritation. You could be in surgery, you could be bleeding out, any number of things could be happening right this moment, and there is nothing he can do. Simon silences these thoughts, keeping the panic at bay. “Keep it together, lieutenant,” he reminds himself silently. 

The receptionist, Shelley, her name tag reads, is unfazed by his erratic state, eyes squinting as she adjusts her glasses and leans back from the screen. Simon runs a hand down his face, using every ounce of self control he has to keep up a semblance of propriety. 

“Ahh,” Shelley announces triumphantly. “Here they are! I found them.” She turns her gaze to the hulking man in front of her, taking in his large form and tentatively eyeing the tattoos along his forearm. “Sorry, what was your relation to the patient again?” She asks, a note of uncertainty laces her tone. 

“I’m—” he hesitates. No words come to the tip of his tongue. He’s not a boyfriend for christ’s sake. Not your husband, though he wished more than ever he could use that word right now. 

“Spouse? Partner?” Shelley raises an eyebrow, trying to help fill in the blanks here.

Simon swallowed hard. “Yeah, partner. Just, can you tell me where they are? Please.”  

He’s not sure what comes over him as he tacks on that final plea. The desperation is clear in his words, but he couldn’t care less. Fuck it, he is desperate. Desperate to see you. Desperate to know you are okay—see it with his own eyes, feel your hands in his. 

Shelley’s pointed gaze turns to one of sympathy. “Room 315, dear. The lift is to the right.” 

The words are barely out of her mouth before Simon’s in motion once more. No time for the lift, he thinks to himself as he heads to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. Brown eyes frantically scan every room number as he searches for yours before finally finding the correct digits outside the room furthest down the hall. The metal of the door handle is cool beneath his touch as he pushes open the door, charging into the room.

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, eyes frantically scanning your body, taking stock of each and every visible injury. He can hardly control the wave of emotions that threaten to pull him down as he takes in your bruised and bandaged appearance. 

They’ve already set your arm in a sling, and there’s a large bulk encompassing your entire right leg, the bulk of it obvious even under the thin hospital blanket. An array of cuts and scrapes mar your perfect face, and the sudden onset of pure, unadulterated rage threatens to swallow him whole. 

‘I’m going to kill them,’ the words echo in his mind–a dozen violent deaths planned out for whoever did this to you. 

“Simon,” your hoarse voice calls out to him, but he can’t hear you over the sound of the roaring in his head. 

‘I’m going to hunt them down. And I’m going to fucking kill them for this.’

“Simon,” you say his name louder, firmer, and attempt to sit yourself up. Pain radiates through your body, piercing through the haze of pain meds, and you can’t help the cry of pain that escapes your lips. 

That is what pulls Simon out. On instinct, his feet move towards your bed, hand reaching out to clasp around your free hand. 

Your lower lip trembles. “Simon.” The word is pitiful on your lips–a plea, a prayer, a cry for help. 

It’s enough to pull Simon from the depths of this rage–revenge can wait. 

“I’m here.” Simon’s voice wraps around you like a warm blanket, and the dam breaks, tears flowing fast and freely. “It was awful,” you gasp out between sobs. Simon makes soothing shushing sounds as he holds your hand tight in his own, his other hand reaching up to gently brush the tears away, taking care to avoid the scrapes that litter your skin as you recount what details you can remember of the accident. 

“Shh, love, it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “‘M sorry I wasn’t there, babe.” Bile threatens to rise in the back of his throat as the guilt settles in.

“Should’ve been there, should’ve never left your fucking side.” He stares at the layers of gauze wrapped around your leg, hidden beneath the thin blanket. 

“Simon. Look at me,” you insist, waiting for those brown eyes to turn back to you. “Don’t go down that road, Si. There was nothing you could have done to stop this.” 

“You don’t know that,” he bites back. Simon immediately regrets the harshness of his note. “You don’t know that,” he tries again, softer this time. “Should’ve been there.” He runs a hand over his face, the adrenaline is fading, causing the events of the past hour to finally catch up to him. He exhales sharply and looks back up at you, eyes determined. 

“But ‘m here now. It’s over. I’m here.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “And I’m not going anywhere, love.”

True to his word, Simon stays by your bedside the entire three day stay in the hospital. He denies your pleas to go home and sleep in his own bed, insisting on sleeping in the rough, uncomfortable hospital recliner. Not only was the furniture laughably small for a man of his stature, but after the first night, Simon is convinced it was designed as some kind of long-term-torture device. Not once does he complain though, dismissing your worries with a casual wave of his hand. “Slept in worse conditions in the field, love. This beats a forest floor.” Though by night two, Simon isn’t so sure. 

He’s always struggled with nightmares, but those nights in the hospital, his dreams turn to something worse: losing you in a car accident. The scene replays over and over in his mind’s eye until he’s woken up with a start, covered in sweat, and gasping for air. His eyes instantly lock on to the vital signs monitor above you, watching the thin green line of your heartbeat bounce up and down in a steady rhythm. He slows his own breathing down to match pace with yours, staring down at you as you sleep soundly. He watches the subtle rise and fall of your chest, further confirmation that you’re alive. 

When he finally gets to bring you home, he acts as though you’re made of fine china, driving ten under the speed limit. He carefully guides you into the house, hands ready to catch you as you struggle with the metal crutches. 

“Fuck,” you spit in frustration. “They made it look so easy in the hospital.” 

After the second time you almost trip over them, Simon’s exasperation gets the best of him. 

“Easy, swee’heart,” he implores, a note of desperation in his voice. “Just got you back, yeah? Can’t have you goin’ right back to A&E.” 

He wishes more than anything he could just scoop you up into his arms and carry you straight to the bedroom, but with your leg in its current state, he has to settle for just hovering, perpetually at the ready to catch and support you. He swears the walk from the car to getting you settled in bed takes an entire year off his life. 

That first night back at home together, Simon lays awake, watching you sleep. The combination of finally being back in the comfort of your own bed, along with the lack of obnoxiously loud machines beeping and being encumbered by wires, means you fall asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow. Simon lays beside you, as close as he dares to get, still so weary of your injuries. He leans over to press a gentle kiss to your temple, just above where a deep cut runs down your face. His finger hovers just above your skin as he traces the shape. “‘M sorry, love. I promise, I’ll take care of ya. This won’t happen again.” His words are barely above a whisper, drowned out by the soft snores of your breathing. He presses one more gentle kiss to you before turning out the light. 

[tbaluver]

Hello! I’ve recently gotten into love and deepspace. I love your writing and I was hoping to request some Sylus fluff or a headcannon of all the boys! Whichever you prefer. I’d love to see them comforting or caring for a chronically ill reader. I got diagnosed with POTS recently and doing even basic task has become a struggle. If that’s something you’d like to write, I think it’d be really cute. Thank you!!

Taking Care Of Their Chronically Ill S/O- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff / comfort a/n: hihi punny ! i hope you're enjoying the game !! and i'm really sorry to hear you're going through this and it's remember to know you're not alone in this. i hope you're able to get the support and care you need to make things easier. if you ever need someone to talk to or get your mind off anything, i'm here for you! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) i hope you this was alright and i hope you enjoy this and if i have the time ill try to write a sylus fluff !! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You would have to tell him what exactly you're going through to know what is going on. He'll research and look up everything on what you're going through until he's sure he knows what he has to do. He'll do his best to learn the necessary terminologies for whatever you're going through.

Obviously he would want to help. He'll reassure you that he is fine with helping you even if it were the smallest tasks like grabbing something for you or helping you write down something. He would never find anything you asked for to be a burden as long as it helps you take the weight off your shoulders.

He'll pick up anything on the floor and ensure that the house is generally safer for you. He would also try to find yummy foods that you can eat in your condition. He would also try them out with you so you don't feel alone.

I think he would also be good at making you feel validated and understood on the days when any pressure seems to build up.

He would try to stay up with you if you had a rough and sleepless night and make sure you can relax as much as possible first. He'll read you anything or watch movies with you or do whatever you want to get your mind off any discomfort.

Zayne:

He's always reading up on your symptoms and possible treatments for you. He would also have your routines memorized and know when to take your meds or ointments. If he wasn't able to stay home with you, he would text or call on his break to make sure you're okay and if you've taken what you need.

He never makes you feel like it's your fault or your a burden whenever you apologize to do something for you. He is more than happy to help and assures you there is nothing to apologize for. He is happy to be there and with you in any way he can be.

He'll also have a mini notebook or he'll have his notes app that tracks everything that happened to you. Things like foods you can't eat or updates from your checkups. Anything he can record just in case he needs to bring it up to the doctor.

Anything that's on your mind, he'll listen quietly to you rants and he'll talk you out of a bad state of mind.

He's familiar with medication due to his patients and his studies. If it's something he'll be unfamiliar with then he'll look up the side effects and makes sure that you at least have something in your stomach before you take it. It's important for him that you tell him what you're feeling. If you find the aftertaste of your medication unpleasant, he'll offer you a sweet treat after, as long as it's something that won't negatively impact your health.

Rafayel:

You'll have to explain what you're going through and as soon as he understands what you're going through, he will make it his priority to cheer you up and take care of you as much as he can.

He will always try to be there for you on your doctors appointments or any major procedures. You don't even need to ask him, he'll already be on his way there. He'll be there for you for support. He would also want to make sure you're being properly cared for.

When you're resting at home, he'll cling to you. He'll happily tell you any stories or talk about anything to you when you lack the energy to talk.

If you're slower than usual, he'll approach you directly to keep you company. If you stay in bed longer when you wake up, he'll ask if you need anything but he'll always bring you food in bed so you have energy. He'll try his best to help you. He'll bring you your favorite sweets, water, blankets, anything you want or need to get through these difficult times.

He'll always remind you how attractive you are, even if you don't feel it. Especially on days where you'll have post or pre-flare up or just a bad day in general where you don't feel like you don't look good. He'll always remind you how beautiful and how loved you are.

If you ever need space, he'll sit by the opposite wall so he's not far from you if you needed anything. If you need him to distract you, he'll chat about anything to you. If you need help with new exercises, he'll practice them with you or show you videos of what he saw online and try them with you.

Sylus:

He'll stand by you through every challenge. Whatever you're facing, he'll be there to support you.

He remains very understanding about what you're going though. He'll never make you feel guilty for being too painful or uncomfortable to do an activity or an outing with him. He'll put those aside and try his best to comfort you. Whatever is troubling you, he'll be there to listen and support you, always ready to care for you.

He is extremely attentive to signals of pain or any discomfort that you may make. He can use his evol to carry you but he's always willing to just carry you himself whenever you're feeling fatigue more than usual. He'll pick you up and bring you to any room you would like to be at. No matter where you would like to stay, he'll make the room comfortable for you. If you want to stay in bed, he'll smooth out the sheets and pat the mattress to make sure there are no crumbs in it and the pillows would be fluffed to your liking.

He'll also cook or bring your favorite meals to you so you can eat comfortably. He'll even run the perfect temperature when you want a bath or a shower and he'll add any herbs or salts to soothe any aches in your body. If your comfortable with it, he'll shower you himself. He doesn't want you too use too much energy and wants you to relax as much as you can.

Will hire the best doctors for you and he'll call the doctors regularly to monitor the progress of your treatments because your health is very important to him. He will sit by your side through every trip to the doctor. He'll be by your side on the bathroom floor or any bad nights.

If there is a time that he cannot be by your side, he'll either have one of the twins or both to watch over you. He'll literally give them specific and direct instructions on what you will need. As long as you feel the weight off your shoulders. Just in case, he'll have Mephisto to watch over you and if anything were to go wrong he'll be home as soon as he can.

During sleepless nights, he'll be right by your side, holding your hand as you both lie in bed. He'll gently kiss your forehead, temple, and hand, offering comfort and reassurance that he's always here for you.

[cry4mina]

Spite

(Vampire!Mina x fem!reader)

Word Count: 4K

Smut

Disclaimer/Summary: this was literally the first thing I ever wrote and sent to a former mutual who will not be named before I started this blog. It was sent to provide points of interest for a specific type of smut they didn’t know how to write.

Since credit wasn’t given when stated it would be- I’ve decided to unearth it from the messages, tweak it, add to it and post it. So if it seems familiar, know that this was what was originally sent to help spark SOME of the ideas for that fic, specifically.

The context of this is reader is trying to save Mina from her alter ego vampire “Sharon” who can hypnotize people and bend them to her will. Reader has feelings for Mina but was unaware of the powers Sharon holds. Mina was chained up before to avoid Sharon hurting anyone. But uhm…she didn’t stay that way.

TW: aggressive smut, vampires, blood, straps, choking, mind control, hypnosis, cursing, feral fucking lmao lemme know if i missed anything!

A/N: Shout out to those who encouraged me to finish this and also @nr1chaedickrider @miinatozakiii @namojoon for also contributing to the subject matter of the fic this went into! 🖤

And a shout out to @ghostykapi for helping me find some pictures for this! 🖤

Your eyes flicker open to a slurry of lightning flashing. The sounds of rain and thunder jolted you of a glorious dream of you and Mina. A wet dream, soft and sweet, passionately tangled together in a heated scene. It felts so real, it’s shame it wasn’t.

Hands reaching up to wipe the slumber off your face. You kicking your feet out of the warm sheets and sit up, yawning and stretching to pull the rest out of your bones and forget the dream you wished you stayed in a little longer.

Unable to remember falling asleep, the last thing you recall is Mina in chains and then everything going black. Chaining her down to the floor to keep her safe was the only option to protect not just you, but everyone around you too.

The difference between Mina and Sharon was night and day.

Mina was caring, kind, and full of love. A warm wave of safety that never ceased to amaze you in how pure she was.

Sharon was malevolent, disturbing, and evil. An iced entity of stoicism that was bloodthirsty and power hungry. Willing to do anything and everything to get what she wants. Chaining her down was the only way to keep her from feeding. Unnecessary death was always to be avoidable as long as she was chained up and away from everyone.

Sharon was powerful already, being able to use hypnosis on those around her with her eyes and touch, manipulating to gain whatever she could. Dangerous, seductive, and violent.

A hint of copper in your mouth makes your face contort, confused on how the metallic flavor was present against your taste buds. Rolling your tongue around mindlessly, trying to figure out if you had a cut in your mouth, you stand up the concern on your face palpable when you realize you don’t know where you are.

An unfamiliar room with large floor to ceiling windows, giving you a view of the storm raging outside. The bed was large with a black wood and a filigree pattern up the canopy supports. Sheets of satin, night stands that matched the frame, the room was dark in design and eerie in feeling.

The feeling of being watched makes you shiver, grabbing your own arms to hold yourself in the discomfort.

“Good Morning, Y/n.” heard creeping out of the shadows, startling you out of your own head, forcing you to fully wake faster than you normally would.

Another shiver down your spine, you recognize the voice, and pan the room to see a glow of red eyes and the faint pale face of Mina.

Sharon had already taken over her, the infected half of her DNA with a mind of it’s own. Using Mina’s body for her own gain, seducing people to lure them in and goring them before they even had a second to realize what was happening.

You take a step back but she matches your movements. You look for an exit in a panic, not knowing the danger that you could be in when it hits you. The eye contact that causes a surge of desire, running hot in your veins, rendering you tense. Your thoughts are haunted by lewd ideas of her…just like the dreams you were having only moments ago but with more of a sadistic twist.

“You really thought it wouldn’t come to this?” She grinned, voice contorting to a slightly deeper tone, giving an unfamiliar tang to the face you see in your dreams.

“I always thought you’d fight back a little harder…maybe actually try to do something about me…” Pacing as she speaks, admiring how you wince at her words. She knows she can’t be stopped especially because of how you felt about Mina. She did have her face after all.

“How do you feel?” the rhetorical question she asks almost passes you by.

You’re too busy blankly staring at her to see how she’s is sizing you up like a snake about to consume a meal after a long while. Her gaze burns a hole into your chest, the heat rising through the beaming chasm that once was where your heart sat, now all consumed by manipulative lust and yearning for her.

“What do you mean “how do I feel?”” trying to play it like you weren’t scared shitless and insatiable, completely soaked in your own arousal as the flashes of her on top of you pass through your mind.

She giggles and steps closer.

The realization hits that there is no escaping this while she is in front of her, her eyes hypnotic in the way they stay on you. You’re losing your sense of self by the second.

There’s no escaping her.

“Don’t you taste it?” She’s just toying with you now, playing with her food before it’s consumed.

Your eyes widen when you grasp what she’s hinting at.

“W-Who am I tasting?” A sudden clash of thunder reverberates in the room, lightening flashes through the windows, erasing the shadows and allowing you to see her blood stained lips.

She continues watching you without blinking to see if you flinch at the sounds. The hunger in her crimson laced eyes was intimidating and indecipherable. Lust fueled or blood driven, you were unsure. Was this just apart of her plan? Bring you here while you were asleep to seduce you and then…death?

“That would be me, actually.”

Sharon maneuvers her hair, shifting it from one shoulder to the other to show the imprint of your teeth in her neck. A normal human teeth bite mark into her neck…you don’t remember doing that. More importantly, what happens to a human when they drink vampire blood?

“You chained me up…I didn’t like that very much. I’m sure you understand.” She leans against the wall, watching you in a predatory way. Taking every slight movement in, making sure to look up at your eyes to keep you under her spell.

Pulling at your shirt to detach it from your body, her eyes on you makes you feel like you’re being hunted, creating a flash of heat within you.

A small chuckle leaves her mouth menacingly as she watches you remove the article of clothing.

“While you were under my spell, I saw everything. Your thoughts…your feelings…your fantasies…” Pausing for a moment to watch the embarrassment fall over your face, knowing that she had seen the dreams of Mina, from the soft sweet ones to the vile filthy ones.

“They intrigued me.” sauntering over to you, placing a finger under your chin exposing a wound on your neck that she had left before you woke up.

Cocking your head at the statement, pulling your face out of her hands as you furrowed your brows in confusion and try to exact your free will and get out before it’s too late.

Even with the ache between your legs urging you to make a move, this wasn’t Mina…this was someone who just looked like Mina…even though you were fighting your desire of her, it was still very much present and you did not want to give in so easily.

“My mark looks good on you…maybe if you’re a good for me, I’ll give you another” her voice drenched in a possessive tone, the inflection of ownership on you rattled you all the way down to your core.

“Excuse me?” You spat, trying to put up a fight against this supernatural trance she’s put you in.

Sharon cupped your face and looked deep within you, violating the privacy of your thoughts. Intrusion into your brain, into your soul.

“I’ve seen it all, you know….Your fantasies about me, the way you dream of me. It’s so pathetic, really.”

Removing her hand from you and turning her back to walk to the door and lock it by the knob and the deadbolt fixated to the frame.

“I’m going to turn you into my play thing.” Hissed with bated breath, spinning around so rapidly that it created a gust of hellish wind.

“When I'm done with you, you’ll only be able to say my name…I’ll remove all those thoughts out of your head until you’re just my worthless toy… Since you’re so desperate for her to touch you…I figured why not show you how she can really be!”

In one swift movement, “Mina” is in front of you with her hand tightly squeezing your throat, digging her nails into the sides of your neck and baring her fangs in an attempt to get you to submit.

It surprises you how much you’re enjoying this, even hating to admit it to yourself. The idea of Mina being rough with you had consumed your thoughts a few times, you just never thought it would be Sharon to enact them.

Pulling at her hands to get her off of you, her other hand swings and smacks you across the face. She knows your thoughts, she knows you want this and the slap was another attempt to get you to see that she was in control and you had no choice but to let her have her way with you.

Bringing your own hand up to cup your cheek, feeling the heat emanating off the slowly developing red mark, you can’t help but wince at the sting.

Swinging your hand out to slap her back, she leans out of the way causing you to completely miss. She had the dominance that you craved but the urge to fight back was louder than the pulsing between your thighs.

“Mina” tightens her grip on your neck, causing your breath to hitch and almost stop completely as she glares into your eyes, the red storms of putrid rage clashing around matching the weather outside.

“Don’t. Do that. Again.” Gritted through her sharp fangs.

She squeezes one last time and then lets go, dropping you to the floor. You collapse and on your knees, gasping for air and trying to remove the vile thoughts you are having about her.

“I can see those…” Looking up to see her alluringly evil smirk painted across her face, a seductive horror anthology was about to take place. This grin was your warning.

Mina licks her lips and pounces, fully knocking you to the floor, straddling you right above your waist to keep you locked into place.

You’re at her mercy, wrapped around her finger, and completely hypnotized by her spell.

Fangs out and hissing as you attempt to struggle underneath her. She forcefully stretches your hands above your head and pins you down with only one of hers. When did she get this strong?

She kisses you roughly, a striking contrast to the Mina you were used to. Moaning into her mouth, you feel the heat that has been building between your thighs. Avoiding clenching them together, you try to use your strength to push her up to get a better angle.

Her hands slowly trailing up your torso, making sure to drag her nails over your fabric covered nipple just to hear you mewl at her touch.

Hand now wrapped around your throat again, she stands up and drags you with her, and tosses you onto the bed.

The frame rattles against the wall and the softness of the blankets welcome you back sooner than expected.

Quickly mounting your waist once more, hands returning to your throat causing you to nervously swallow at what’s to come.

Sharon leans in to your ear and growls “I’m going to ruin you.”

A third shiver travels through your body and you use every ounce of strength to lift Mina off of you and flip her around on her back.

In this moment, your brain is clouded with desire for the person underneath you, thoughts so intense that your efforts to shake the thoughts out were failing and you needed to try to leave before you succumbed to Sharon’s lust driven needs.

You jump up and head toward the exit but halt immediately when you feel a hand on the back of your neck.

Head spun around for you vigorously, you’re met with eyes glowing red. Mindlessly hypnotized by how deep the pools of crimson.

Slick leaking down your thighs as you rip your bra off and toss it, not caring where it landed.

Why is your body laying down without you telling it too?

She’s so stunning, you need her…Lost in the swirling red that sliced through your hopes of escape.

Within seconds, Sharon’s mouth was on your neck again. Dragging her teeth and hissing possessively. Groaning softly at the sensation of her warm fangs over the bite mark that was already present.

Your hand wraps around the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair. Your chests are pressed against each other in the heated whirlwind of the moment. Wanting nothing more than for her to touch you. Anywhere and everywhere.

You let go, allowing her to take you, how ever she wanted.

She felt your submission and smiled fangs fully out and grazing the skin of your neck, leaving small cuts at how razor sharp they were, blood dribbles out slowly. She licks the cuts clean, humming at the taste of your life force.

“You belong to me now” growled at you, causing you to clench around nothing.

SMACK

The sound of her slapping your breast echoes in every corner of the room. Red welts appeared on your chest as she bent down to take your nipple into your mouth. Roughly abusing you as you squirmed underneath her.

You can feel how absolutely ruined your underwear is and shift uncomfortably, trying to unstick yourself from the cloth. Sharon notices and stands up, removing contact from you. Eyebrow furrowing at the lack of touch, you let out a needy whine as she watches and towers over you.

“Take your pants off” crossing her arms and waiting. You hesitate. She grabs you by the face hostilely, pinching your cheeks between her index finger and thumb.

“If you don’t take them off, I’ll rip them off of you. I need to know what you taste like.”

You cocked your eyebrow, challenging her. Pursing your lips as if to dare her. She scoffed and ripped your pants right off your body. The sound of the rip only makes the wet spot on your underwear grow even larger, the craving you had for her was unbearable.

Aggressively pushing you back down on the bed, throwing you around effortlessly like a rag doll. She crossed her arms again, glaring at you.

“Don’t move or you’ll fucking regret it” Sternly, the malice present in her tone, before gracefully strutting towards the dresser in the corner, removing all remaining clothes as she made her way over to it.

You hear a soft demonic whine from the other side of the room.

Sharon returned hastily with a device already fixed at her hips, other end of the double ended strap on already inside her. Her thighs glistening in the sleek essence dripping from her core.

Coasting your tongue on your bottom lip as an invitation, you hunger for her.

Suddenly, your legs are pressed against your chest, her knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your arms above your head, and she’s biting your collarbones and chest leaving trails of fang marks behind in a scattered pattern.

You wince at the pain, feeling yourself falling into the subspace as she navigated around your chest. Slowly descending down to tug on your nipples with her teeth which transitions to licking and sucking the cuts her fangs leave on your tits and listening to you whine for more.

“Please I need y-“ you started to beg for her when she grabs your waistband and rips your underwear clean off your body revealing your soaked state of yearning for her.

“Oh, fuck” breathily escapes your lips.

Sharon takes the tip of her strap and glides it against your slit, eliciting more primal sounds out of you.

“Awh, look at you. Desperate and pathetic for me….or for her…this is your fantasy, no? Don’t you just want her to tease you…to take what’s hers? Too bad I’ll get there before she does.”

It’s hard to hear her talk about Mina like this, knowing it was her body touching you, but she wasn’t present, only this succubus fronting in the warmth of her.

Sharon takes her strap and smacks your clit with it a few times, splattering your slick and returns to sliding it up and down against you. You lift your hips in the same rhythm as her thrusts, unable to look away from the intense eye contact had between the two of you.

“Don’t worry about what she thinks.” reading your mind yet again, at this point you don’t even care she’s being so intrusive.

All you want is her.

All you need is her.

“Mina is enjoying the show.”

She guides the tip to your entrance, pushing her hips into you. Hands on the back of your thighs to keep them against your chest as she enters you, bottoming out in one smooth stroke.

She wastes not a single second more, giving you barely any time to adjust to something being inside you, she pulled back out and snapped back in. Your cunt screams at the mix of pain and pleasure, coating her strap in slick effortlessly.

“Look at how fucking wet you are and I’m just getting started. Someone is eager to be my whore, isn’t that right?”

Unable to focus on anything else other than the desire for her to keep going, you nod your head between gasps, moving your hands to the back of your thighs where hers were so she could use hers how she wanted.

Sharon slows down her pace until halting her motion, watching and waiting for you to answer.

“Say it.” spite-fueled harsh whispers emulating the tone of her seriousness.

“Yes, yes, please…fucking please!” the longing for her was too much, you fear for what you’d become if it wasn’t satiated.

Sharon maniacal laughs turn into grunts when she begins to slam her hips into you again. All you care about is her touch, mesmerized by every single moment of contact and the glare she gives you.

Sharon moaned at the sensation of her clit rubbing on the leather of the harness and the rocking of the silicone inside her.

The coil in your stomach tightens with each sound you both make, threatening to break as she kept jackhammering into you, tip kissing your cervix with each groan had between the two of you.

“M-more…fu-uh-uh-uh-ck, please” slurring your words as you tried to wrap your legs around her to push her deeper into you.

Lowly growling at you and prying your legs from her hips, she pushed them down to your chest again. Fighting the urge to drain you for defiance.

You were her toy and she was going to do this her way.

The pace quickened as she plowed into you. Blurred vision, stars in your eyes, coming close to your high when she let out a snarl and pulled out. Using her strength she flipped you over, pushing your face into the sheets.

“Arch your fucking back” Sharon placed a cold hand on your spine pushing down while lifting your ass in the air.

A finger found its way to your folds. Teasing you and watching the slick drip out of you.

Removing her finger, she bent down and started sucking on your clit. Gasping and writhing as she rhythmically licked your sensitive bud, building up brick by brick the sensations she wanted you to feel.

Dragging her nails up and down your thighs and her tongue continued to dance on your folds, being sure to taste every drop of you.

Two fingers suddenly plunged in and curled towards your G-spot. Pressing down repeatedly causing you to lose touch with any left over moments of reality you still had.

“I’m gonna cum” you scream into the sheets as you start to contract around her fingers.

Essence belonging to you drips down her hand. She’s continuing to pump into you and bring you to your moment of ecstasy. Blissfully being devoured by a demon who looked like an angel.

A devious smirk wipes across her face as she continues to let you ride out the orgasm she gifted you.

You’re completely in shambles, unable to speak full sentences, legs shaking and not willing to hold the weight of your body anymore.

Frozen hands wrap around your waist, you can feel your body being held up.

“Don’t think I’m finished with you yet!” a smack to your pussy startles you.

Feeling her slide the strap back in with ease, both moaning as she pulls out to the tip and continues the deadly pace she had before.

Screaming underneath her with no sense of control, you were overstimulated in the best way, the sensitivity of having just cum was a mere thought when the need for her took over again.

Sharon continued to fuck you senseless, snarling behind you as she pumped, craving her own climax. You felt her hips stutter and falter as she growled, trying to keep her pace.

“Use me, Make me yours -fuck fuck fuck-, Sh-Sharon” you whined, knowing it would push her right over the edge and into the raptured to heaven moment you just had yourself.

She snarled and sank her teeth into your shoulder, moans muffled by your flesh and the tension of her jaw while her hips haphazardly jerk, not letting you out of her venomous bite.

The sound of her cumming, the feeling of her digging her teeth into you, and the movements of her strap set off into another pulsating moment of pure unadulterated bliss, cumming around her, gripping her and making it difficult for her to keep her already unsteady rhythm as she tried to ride out her own orgasm.

She slowly came to a stop and gently draped her body on your back, softly wrapping her arms around you while she caught her breath, licking up the blood gushing from her deep bite.

Her warm torso resting against you was heaven, in and of itself.

You both laid there, chests heaving when she pulled out of you. The sudden emptiness and the stroke of it makes you gasp and whimper again. She undid the device from around her hips, putting it on the night stand to be cleaned tomorrow.

She looked over at you, making eye contact. You notice that her eyes are brown like before, you blink a few times at her. She puts her hands up in defense, eyes widened at how quickly you realized she was back to Mina.

“I can explain!”

[thankskenpenders]

After a recent interview where Iizuka said it was possible for IDW characters to show up in the games, I've seen some discussion about how the characters need to be introduced "the right way" for people who don't read the comics. And, like, this is obviously true to some extent. You want to convey why people unfamiliar with them should care about these characters, instead of just assuming everyone already knows who they are and their whole backstories and everything. (Anyone who's watched Disney+ Star Wars already has some easy examples of times where they were like "you guys already know this character from the cartoons, right?" and casual fans were completely lost.) But I think people are overestimating how much work this would actually take, especially people who argue that the characters need full-blown reintroductions in the games that depict their backstories all over again and treat them as characters Sonic doesn't already know

I think it's easy to forget that not everyone who plays Sonic games has played every Sonic game. Kids especially. Every single major recurring character in the games debuted before today's generation of Sonic kids was born, and as such every new game is someone's introduction to those characters. The games with the introductions for the Chaotix, Blaze, Silver, Omega, Cream, the Babylon Rogues, Fang, Mighty, Ray, etc. are straight up not available at all on modern hardware without resorting to emulation. To many people picking up Team Sonic Racing or Mania or whatever, those characters are already some random characters Sonic apparently already knows from some previous story. These are not things that every single person who picks up a new Sonic game is intimately familiar with. And yet the games don't feel the need to stop and recount their entire backstories every time they appear.

Also, like, even if you have played every single game, Sonic already has a long history of introducing new characters with little to no fanfare, often treating them as characters Sonic has already met. Core characters like Tails, Amy, and Metal Sonic were really just dropped into Genesis era sequels with no explanation for people who didn't read the manual (i.e.: most players). Sonic has a kid sidekick and a girl who has a crush on him and a robot duplicate now, just roll with it. The modern era would continue to do this with characters like the reimagined Team Chaotix, or Orbot and Cubot, who just appeared in the games one day with no setup. We got along just fine.

(This is to say nothing of the nature of the creative medium the IDW characters originate from, where every new comic arc is treated as somebody's first and supporting characters are periodically given reintroductions to get newer readers up to speed. We've been over Whisper's backstory multiple times now.)

Again, obviously I do want characters like Tangle, Whisper, and Surge to show up in the games with compelling introductions that do the characters justice, but I think people are overthinking how much effort that actually takes. You do not need a whole elaborate adaptation of Whisper and Surge's backstories in the games just for them to have a cameo. You can have Sonic already know them, and if the details are even relevant you can convey that stuff in other ways - brief exposition in the dialogue, context clues, in-game character bios, new stories that showcase their important character traits without 1:1 recreating the stories that have already been told, out-of-game promotional videos and animated shorts like the ones they did to get people up to speed on who the hell Fang is, etc. This is pretty basic stuff when writing for a long-running multimedia franchise.

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓾𝓵𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼

pairing: san x nurse!reader ft wooyoung au: strangers to lovers | nurse genre: angst with happy ending word count:13.4k synopsis: he fell first, she fell harder. warning(s): mentions of cancer, character death, grief, hospitals. author note: get your tissues, it's a long one.

San stared at the ceiling tiles, their bland uniformity etched into his memory after a year and a half of treatment. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting uneven shadows across the sterile room. He exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had become second nature during these long, grueling sessions.

It was his last day of chemotherapy.

The thought tasted bittersweet. The end of this chapter, yes, but also the end of the routine that had strangely grounded him in the chaos of fighting for his life. A mix of relief, apprehension, and the faintest sliver of hope swirled in his chest.

He glanced down at his wrist, where the IV dripped steadily into his veins, delivering the last of the poison that was somehow saving him. His fingers tightened into a fist, the effort reminding him he was still here—still fighting.

“ doing alright there mr. choi?”

San turned his head, the soft voice pulling him out of his thoughts. The nurse was approaching with a familiar, radiant smile and a small snack in her hand. Her kindness had been a constant through the grueling months, her gentle humor and warm presence something he always looked forward to.

She set the snack down on the tray beside him, brushing her hands off casually. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled made his heart skip a beat. It was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—but it struck him with an unexpected intensity.

And then, guilt crept in, sharp and unrelenting. He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t. He had a girlfriend—a sweetheart who had stood by his side through every hospital visit, every sleepless night, every doubt and fear. She was his rock, his reason to keep fighting.

So why did he feel this flutter of something unfamiliar whenever he saw you?

San smiled softly, nodding his head as he pushed the thoughts aside. “I’m fine. How are you, Nurse Yn?”

Your name rolled off his tongue with a certain ease, one that felt too familiar for comfort. You paused in your step, turning back toward him with that radiant smile still lighting up your face.

“Me? I’m good,” you replied, leaning slightly against the edge of his chair as you folded your arms. “Though I think I’ll miss seeing you around here, Mr. Choi. It’s not every day I meet someone who’s mastered sarcasm as well as you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “It’s a talent. Comes with sitting in these chairs for too long.”

Your laugh joined his, and for a moment, the sterile hospital room felt a little brighter. But there it was again—that flutter in his chest, that traitorous feeling he couldn’t ignore.

you smiled at him sweetly, placing the snacks by his table side. “ congratulations by the way! youre last chemo today.”

San’s lips curved into a shy smile, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the thin hospital blanket. “Thanks. Feels… surreal, honestly.”

“Oh, come on. I’m sure your girlfriend is ecstatic to have you cancer-free,” you teased lightly, your tone playful yet warm.

San’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, but he quickly masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah, she is. She’s been my biggest supporter through all of this.”

Your eyes lit up, and you nodded approvingly. “She sounds like a keeper. I’m glad you had someone like that by your side.”

He forced another smile, though your words felt like a subtle jab at the guilt simmering in his chest. Of course, his girlfriend was amazing—loyal, loving, and unwavering in her support. She was everything anyone could ever hope for in a partner.

So why did his heart keep skipping a beat every time you smiled at him like that?

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “She really is.”

You didn’t seem to notice the shift in his tone as you gave him a cheerful thumbs-up. “Well, she’ll be thrilled to celebrate this milestone with you. You deserve it, San.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the table where the snack you’d brought him sat untouched.

As you turned to tend to another patient, San leaned back in his chair, staring at the same ceiling tiles that had been his constant companions for the past year and a half.

He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the confusing thoughts. His girlfriend had stood by him through everything. He loved her. He owed her his life.

But when he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, laughing softly with another patient, he couldn’t help but wonder why you still lingered in his mind.

The doctor shook his girlfriend’s hand firmly, offering her a kind smile before turning to San, who sat slumped in the wheelchair. The nausea was overwhelming, making every movement feel heavier than it should. He didn’t have the strength to walk out of the hospital on his own, and he hated the helplessness of it all.

He felt the jerk of the wheelchair as his girlfriend began to push him toward the exit. The muffled hum of the hospital filled his ears—voices blending together, footsteps echoing faintly, machines beeping in the distance.

And then he heard your voice.

It cut through the noise like a melody he didn’t realize he’d been straining to hear.

San turned his head, his sluggish movements betraying his exhaustion. There you were, standing a few feet away, your smile as bright as ever as you laughed with an elderly patient. You were holding their hand gently, the warmth in your touch evident even from where he sat.

It was such a simple moment, so unremarkable to anyone else. But to San, it felt like time slowed, his chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of chemo.

“San?” His girlfriend’s voice pulled him back, her tone laced with concern. “You okay?”

He blinked, tearing his gaze away from you and nodding quickly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Just… tired.”

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get you home.”

San leaned back in the wheelchair, closing his eyes as they moved toward the exit. But no matter how hard he tried, the sound of your laugh and the image of your radiant smile refused to leave his mind.

“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Choi!”

Your voice rang out, clear and bright, cutting through the muffled haze of the hospital sounds. It echoed just enough to draw attention, and San felt his heart thump loudly in his chest.

He couldn’t stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder, his tired eyes landing on you. You were walking toward them with that same warm smile, clipboard in hand, your steps light and purposeful.

San’s girlfriend stopped pushing the wheelchair and turned to face you. “Oh, hi!” she said cheerfully, her voice tinged with gratitude. “Thank you so much for taking care of San. You’ve been such a blessing.”

You waved off the compliment modestly, laughing softly. “It’s my job, really. But seeing patients like San make it all worth it. He’s been incredible through this whole process.”

San swallowed hard, your words making something twist in his chest. He wanted to respond, to thank you properly, but the lump in his throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, he nodded slightly, offering you a small, tired smile.

“I’m so glad he’s finished,” you continued, glancing at him with a sparkle of pride in your eyes. “You’ve fought so hard, Mr. Choi. You should be really proud of yourself.”

His girlfriend beamed, squeezing his shoulder again. “I know I’m proud of him.”

San forced another smile, the warmth of her words clashing with the flutter in his chest as he looked at you. You weren’t supposed to make him feel this way, but the way you smiled, the way your voice seemed to carry so much light—it was almost impossible not to.

“Well,” you said after a moment, stepping back slightly, “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say goodbye and wish you all the best. Take care, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he finally managed, his voice raspy but sincere.

You gave one last cheerful wave before turning to head back down the hall, your presence leaving a lingering warmth in the air.

As his girlfriend started pushing the wheelchair again, San leaned back, staring up at the ceiling tiles. His chest felt heavy, but his heart… his heart was still racing.

When you walked back to the nurses’ station, a small sigh escaped your lips as you set down the clipboard and started organizing the files scattered across the desk. You barely had a moment to gather your thoughts before one of your colleagues sidled up beside you, a sly grin already plastered on their face.

“Sad Mr. Lover Boy is gone, hm?” they teased, their tone dripping with playful mischief.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to your colleague with a faint laugh. "So not appropriate, Jen," you said, shaking your head.

Jen smirked, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "Oh, come on. I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. Mr. Lover Boy had heart eyes for you."

Another colleague joined in, grinning. "She’s not wrong, you know. The guy practically lit up whenever you walked into the room."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands for a moment. "He’s a patient. A patient with a girlfriend, I might add. That’s the end of it."

Jen shrugged, still grinning. "Hey, I didn’t say you did anything wrong. But you can’t deny the connection. Even she noticed it—did you see how tight her grip was on his wheelchair?”

Your blush deepened, and you waved them off. "Alright, that’s enough gossip for today. Go do something useful!"

They laughed but eventually dispersed, leaving you alone at the station. You leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath as you stared at the hallway where you’d last seen San.

Their words swirled in your mind, unwelcome and unsettling. You told yourself it didn’t matter. San was gone, and so was the strange fluttering feeling you’d tucked away every time you saw him.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Yn let out a sigh of relief as she finally slipped into the driver’s seat of her car. The tension from the long day began to melt away as she leaned back against the seat, letting the quiet hum of the vehicle surround her. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she reached up and pulled down the visor.

There it was—the photo she always kept tucked into the little slot. You and Wooyoung, beaming at the camera, his arm thrown casually around your shoulders. The memory of that day warmed your heart, and for a moment, the heaviness of the day’s events didn’t feel so overwhelming.

“Another day, Woo,” you murmured, your smile widening as your fingertips brushed the edge of the photo. “Another day down.”

The thought of him brought a sense of comfort, grounding you in a way nothing else could. No matter how chaotic or emotional your workday had been, Wooyoung was your constant—a reminder. Your motive to continue.

As you pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, a sigh of relief left your lips. Home. Finally. The day had been long, draining in ways you didn’t expect, and all you wanted now was to collapse onto the couch and let yourself unwind.

But just as your hand reached for the door handle, the sharp ring of your phone broke the silence, making you groan aloud. You fished it out of your bag, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debated ignoring it.

Of course, it was work. You glanced at the caller ID and let out another groan, already bracing yourself for whatever crisis couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

With a resigned sigh, you answered, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Yn, hey—it’s Jen,” came the familiar voice, slightly rushed but apologetic. “Sorry to call you so late, but we’ve got a bit of an issue.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the remnants of your energy slipping away. “What’s going on?”

“One of the patients from earlier today—Mr. Choi—he had a follow-up appointment scheduled, but there’s been a mix-up with his paperwork. The doctor’s asking if you could clarify a few things since you were the last one to update his chart.”

San. His name alone was enough to make your stomach twist, though you quickly shook it off. “Right now?”

“Yeah, I know it’s late, but it’s just a quick question. Won’t take more than a minute, I promise.”

You exhaled slowly, already unlocking the car door to grab your work bag from the passenger seat. “Alright, give me a second to find the notes. Hold on.”

As you rifled through your bag, you couldn’t help but feel a strange pang in your chest. Of all the patients they could have called you about, it had to be him.

As you rifled through your bag, flipping past loose papers and half-empty pens, you couldn’t ignore the strange pang in your chest. Of all the patients they could have called you about, it had to be him.

San.

His name lingered in your mind like an echo, stirring up a mix of emotions you weren’t sure you wanted to unpack. You tried to focus on the task at hand, pulling out the small notebook where you jotted down quick notes throughout the day.

“Got it,” you said into the phone, flipping through the pages. “What do they need to know?”

Jen hummed on the other end, her tone shifting to something a little lighter. “They’re just wondering if you remember updating his discharge instructions. The system’s showing a discrepancy, and the doc doesn’t want him leaving without proper follow-up care.”

Your brow furrowed as you scanned your notes. You could picture the moment clearly—his tired eyes, the soft thanks in his voice as you handed him the folder. “Yeah, I gave him the instructions. Everything’s in his folder. Maybe there was a system glitch?”

“Figures,” Jen muttered. “Alright, I’ll let them know. Sorry to bother you with this.”

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment before ending the call, slipping your phone back into your bag. The day felt impossibly long as you stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against your skin. With a deep breath, you walked toward your front door, fumbling for your keys.

As you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the familiar comfort of home wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The faint scent of lavender from the diffuser greeted you, and the soft hum of the fridge in the quiet kitchen was oddly soothing.

Dropping your bag onto the nearest chair, you kicked off your shoes and let out a long sigh. The weight of the day pressed on you, but it was a relief to finally be in your own space.

You wandered to the living room, flipping on a dim lamp before collapsing onto the couch. Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to shake the lingering thoughts of work—and of him.

But as much as you wanted to let it all fade, the image of San’s tired yet grateful smile flashed in your mind. You groaned softly, running a hand through your hair.

“Get a grip, Yn,” you muttered to yourself. “He’s just a patient. That’s all.”

Still, no matter how many times you told yourself that, the flutter in your chest refused to subside.

San lay sprawled on the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion. The nausea from earlier had subsided, but the lingering weariness of the day clung to him like a fog. The television flickered in front of him, playing some sitcom he wasn’t paying attention to.

The rustling sounds from the kitchen broke the stillness, his girlfriend moving about as she prepared something—tea, maybe, or a light snack. She had insisted he rest, taking over the household tasks without complaint, but San felt detached, like he was watching the scene unfold from outside himself.

His gaze stayed fixed on the screen, though his mind was far away.

The sound of your voice lingered in his memory, soft and warm, echoing with an unshakable clarity. He had tried to brush it off, tried to focus on the relief of being done with chemo and the unwavering support of his girlfriend. But no matter how much he fought it, you kept creeping back into his thoughts.

“San?”

His girlfriend’s voice snapped him out of his daze. He blinked, turning his head toward her. She stood at the edge of the couch, a steaming mug in her hands and concern etched across her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her tone gentle. “You’ve been really quiet.”

San forced a small smile, sitting up slightly. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice raspier than he intended. “Just tired, that’s all.”

She gave him a soft nod, setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of him. “That’s to be expected. It’s been a big day.”

He hummed in agreement, leaning back against the cushions as she sat down beside him. Her hand rested lightly on his knee, a gesture of comfort that he appreciated but couldn’t quite reciprocate in the way she deserved.

“That nurse—she was overly friendly, don’t you think?” his girlfriend said, her voice casual but tinged with something more as she sipped the tea she had just made.

San’s eyes opened slowly, his expression neutral as he glanced at her. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, the words catching him off guard.

“She’s just kind,” he said after a beat, his tone even. “That’s her job.”

His girlfriend raised an eyebrow, setting the mug down on the table. “Kind, sure. But the way she was talking to you… it felt a little much, don’t you think?”

San shook his head, the weight of the conversation pressing on him. "Love, she was just doing her job," he said, his voice quieter now, trying to end the discussion before it went any further.

But his girlfriend rolled her eyes, clearly not convinced. "Tsk, but when the other nurses came in and checked by—"

"Please, Sumin," San interrupted, a bit more forcefully now. "We're supposed to be celebrating. Why are we bringing up the nurse?"

Sumin paused, taken aback by the tone in his voice. She stared at him for a moment, as though trying to read the shift in his demeanor, but after a beat, she sighed and leaned back against the couch.

"Alright, alright. We’ll drop it," she muttered, taking another sip of her tea. Her gaze softened as she watched him, noticing the way he’d suddenly withdrawn into himself. "I just... I don’t know, San. I don’t like the way she was looking at you."

San let out a long breath, running a hand over his face as he tried to calm the bubbling frustration inside. The conversation had shifted in a direction he hadn’t wanted, and the weight of it all felt heavier than he’d expected. He just wanted to relax, to unwind, but his mind kept returning to you, to the lingering impression your kindness had left on him.

Sumin huffed, clearly irritated with the tension. She stood up abruptly, her phone in hand as she moved toward the other side of the room. The air between them grew colder, the unspoken words hanging heavily in the silence.

San glanced over at her, a mix of guilt and frustration stirring in his chest. He didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to make her feel insecure or misunderstood. But something about your presence, the way you’d looked at him, kept tugging at him, and it was hard to ignore.

Sumin’s voice cut through the quiet, distant but sharp. “I’m just going to check my social media. Let me know if you need anything.” Her tone was stiff, a hint of coldness lacing her words as she sat down, her attention fully absorbed by her phone.

San didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, not just between him and Sumin, but within himself. The ache in his chest, the confusion swirling in his thoughts—it was all a lot to handle, and it left him staring at the TV, the images flickering past without any real meaning.

San leaned against the shopping cart, absently pushing it forward as he followed Sumin down the aisles of the store. The soft, almost monotonous hum of the background music drifted through the air, blending with the occasional clink of other shoppers' carts.

He glanced around, half-heartedly scanning the shelves but not really seeing anything. Sumin, on the other hand, seemed fully focused on the task at hand, picking out items with a sense of purpose. Her steps were quick, her eyes scanning the shelves for whatever it was she had on her list, while San moved more slowly, trailing behind her as his thoughts wandered.

" oh? Mr. and Mrs. choi?"

San froze, his hand pausing on the shopping cart as a voice called out to them.

He looked up, immediately recognizing the voice—and the face that belonged to it. You stood a few feet away, holding a basket in your hands, a bright smile on your face as you glanced between San and Sumin. The unexpected sight of you in the store caught him off guard, sending a rush of warmth to his cheeks, despite the fact that he tried to hide it behind a neutral expression.

Sumin, ever perceptive, narrowed her eyes slightly at the sight of you, but she quickly masked any reaction, giving you a polite smile.

"Yn," San whispered under his breath, the name slipping from his lips before he could stop it. His mind was racing, and the sight of you had thrown him off balance in ways he couldn’t quite explain. The way your smile had made his heart flutter, how your presence lingered even after you had walked away—he couldn’t shake it.

Sumin’s eyes burned with a quiet but unmistakable anger as she stared at you, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She shifted her focus back to San, her expression tense as she spoke under her breath, but her eyes never left you for long.

You, sensing the shift in the air, offered a polite, friendly smile, trying to keep the interaction light. “Glad to see you up and around, Mr. Choi,” you said with a warm tone, but there was a subtle distance in your posture as you sensed the tension between them.

San felt the heat rise in his chest as he caught the brief but intense exchange. He could feel the awkwardness radiating from both Sumin and you, and he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap without making things worse.

He glanced at Sumin, her jaw clenched as she stood rigid beside him, and then back to you, who had taken a slight step back, as if to create more space between them.

Trying to ease the growing discomfort, San cleared his throat. "Yeah, I’m just happy to be out and about," he said, forcing a lightness into his voice. "It’s been a long road, but things are getting back to normal."

You nodded, your smile never wavering. “I’m happy to hear that, Mr. Choi. You deserve a break after everything.” Your eyes flickered briefly to Sumin before returning to San, sensing the quiet tension that was beginning to hang between the three of you.

" well, san and i -"

" noona you disappeared on me!" the boy said, his voice filled with a playful tone, his small hands tugging gently at your sleeve.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart lifting at the sight of him. "Oh, hey, bud. Sorry," you said, crouching down to his level to meet his eager eyes. "I didn’t mean to leave you waiting. You ready to go?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, his grin wide as he bounced on his feet. His presence immediately lightened the tension that had been simmering around you. You glanced back at San and Sumin, the momentary shift in attention allowing you to break the uncomfortable silence.

Sumin, however, wasn’t as quick to let go of her earlier judgment. She glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, her gaze flicking back to San. There was a strained tension between her smile and the coolness in her eyes, but she said nothing more, her focus moving to the small boy by your side.

San’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the small boy tug at your sleeve, a sudden realization making his chest tighten. The boy had called you "Ynie," which wasn’t an uncommon nickname for someone who was close to a child, but the way he’d looked up at you, with such familiarity and affection—it left San wondering.

Is he yours?

The question lingered in his mind, but the thought felt impossible to entertain. If the boy were yours, surely he would’ve called you something else, like eomma—Instead, you seemed to be nothing but a caretaker, a kind presence in the boy’s life, but nothing more.

You waved goodbye to San and his girlfriend, offering a polite smile despite the lingering tension you could feel in the air. The small boy beside you was still beaming, his energy infectious as he tugged at your hand, eager to get going.

“Let’s go, noona!” he chirped, his excitement making it easy to forget the uncomfortable encounter. You couldn’t help but smile down at him, your heart lightening at the sight of his innocence and joy.

“Alright, bud. Let’s go home,” you said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you steered him toward the checkout. You could still feel San’s gaze on you from behind, but you quickly pushed that feeling aside. There was no reason to dwell on it, no reason to let it distract you.

The boy chattered away as you moved through the aisles, his innocent questions and thoughts filling the space around you. You gave him your full attention, smiling and nodding as you helped him pick out a treat at the counter. But even as you interacted with him, your mind kept drifting back to the encounter with San—how his presence had made your heart race and how his distracted gaze had lingered on you longer than it should have.

As you arrived home, Jun's energy was practically overflowing. He raced inside ahead of you, bouncing up and down with excitement as he bolted for the door. "I’m hungry, noona! Can we have the snacks now?" he asked, his voice full of enthusiasm.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you followed behind, the bag of groceries hanging loosely in your hand. "Hold on there, kiddo," you said, playfully trying to catch up to him. "Let me at least get the groceries inside before we have a snack party."

Jun pouted but gave in, following you to the kitchen with his usual boundless energy. "You take too long," he teased as you set the bags on the counter.

"Patience, Jun," you teased back, starting to unpack the groceries. "You know we need to get everything ready first."

Jun crossed his arms, a mock serious expression on his face. "I was born with patience," he declared dramatically, causing you to chuckle.

You smiled, setting aside the groceries as you started to sort out the snacks he’d been asking for. " if you're anything like your father was, then absolutely not." you said, your voice light with amusement as you began to pull out the snacks he’d been eager to get his hands on.

Jun’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face as he eagerly leaned forward. "I’m nothing like appa" he protested, shaking his head dramatically.

You smiled, squatting to his level as you ruffled his hair, " weither you like it or not bud, you're exactly like your appa."

Jun’s eyes searched your face, his smile softening as the question lingered between you. "Do you think appa is proud of me?" he asked again, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

Your heart ached at the weight of his words, the pain in his small voice that he tried so hard to hide behind that brave little smile. You kneeled down to his level, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as you spoke softly, your own heart swelling with a mix of love and sadness.

"The proudest father in the world, baby," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Your appa would be so proud of you. Everything you do, every step you take… he’s watching over you, and I know he’s so proud of the person you're becoming."

Jun’s eyes shimmered for a moment, a mix of hope and longing in his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped his arms around you in a quiet hug. You held him close, your heart full of love as you gently pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"You’re everything to him," you added quietly, holding him tighter. "And I promise, he’s proud of you every day."

Jun held on for a few moments longer, his small body pressed against yours, as if seeking comfort in your words. Eventually, he pulled away slightly, wiping at his eyes before giving you a sheepish smile.

"Thanks, Ynie," he said softly, his voice returning to its usual tone, though there was a vulnerability in it that hadn’t been there before.

⋆ ˚♡｡⋆˚𐙚 flashback ~

You stood by the window, a soft smile spreading across your face as you watched Wooyoung and Jun in the backyard. The sound of their laughter filled the air, light and carefree, a beautiful reminder of how much joy they brought into each other’s lives. Wooyoung was pushing Jun on the swing, his playful voice carrying over to you.

"Higher, appa! Higher!" Jun’s excited shout made you chuckle, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the sight of them.

Wooyoung laughed, pushing the swing higher, his grin wide as he looked up at Jun. "You sure about that, bud?" he teased, his voice full of affection. "You might fly off at this rate!"

Jun laughed even harder, his small hands gripping the chains tightly as he soared back and forth. "I’m not scared!" he shouted, his voice filled with pure joy. "I trust you, appa!"

You made your way to the screen door, opening it with your hip as you wiped your hands on the towel. The scent of dinner still lingered in the air, mixing with the fresh breeze from outside.

"Boys, dinner is done!" you called out, your voice carrying over to where Wooyoung and Jun were still playing in the backyard.

Jun’s head whipped around immediately, his eyes lighting up. "Dinner!" he shouted excitedly, and before you could even blink, he was darting toward the door.

Wooyoung turned to follow him, laughing. "Guess we’ve got a hungry one here," he teased, shaking his head. He gave Jun a playful nudge before walking toward you, his eyes filled with warmth.

You felt a warm smile tug at your lips as Wooyoung placed a soft kiss on yours, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. "Thanks for making dinner," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of affection that made your heart flutter.

"Someone has to keep this little family fed, right?"

You smiled at Wooyoung’s words as you moved toward the table. His gaze was warm, full of unspoken understanding. "Excited to tell him?" he asked, his voice soft but carrying an edge of curiosity.

You nodded, a rush of emotions stirring within you as you glanced over at Jun, who was eagerly waiting for you to sit down. There was a sense of anticipation building in your chest, the moment finally arriving where you’d share something important with both of them. Something that would change everything.

As you moved towards the chair, Wooyoung was already there, pulling it out for you with a gentle smile. "Always the gentleman," you teased lightly, settling into the chair. He grinned, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he gave you a small wink.

You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, before turning to Jun. "So, bud," you began, your voice warm yet full of meaning, "there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you."

Jun’s eyes lit up with curiosity, the playful glint in his gaze giving way to genuine attention. "What is it,noona?" he asked, his voice full of eagerness.

Just as you were about to speak, Wooyoung began to cough aggressively. Your eyes widened in panic as Wooyoung’s coughs became more violent, his hand instinctively reaching up to his chest as he gasped for air. His face turned slightly pale, and for a moment, you could feel your heart stop in your chest.

Your heart raced as you rushed over to Wooyoung, your hands trembling as you reached him. But just as you were about to help, everything seemed to blur for a moment. Wooyoung's face was contorted in pain, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and his body stiffened as though he was struggling to hold on.

"Wooyoung!" you cried out, your voice breaking with panic. The last thing wooyoung saw was you reaching out to him as Jun wails pierced the air.

" san it's so obvious you like her! Just tell me so we can get this relationship over with!" Sumin cried out.

" fine, i do sumin happy?! " San said, walking away.

Sumin scoffed, grabbing her purse with a sharp motion, her hands trembling with frustration. "You’re unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, as she stormed toward the door. She spun around just before exiting, throwing a final glance at San.

"Fine," she said, her voice cold and brittle, "if that’s how you want it, then so be it."

San stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his chest tight with anger and regret. He couldn’t believe it had come to this—everything had felt like it was falling apart, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"Goodbye, Sumin," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "I’m sorry."

Without another word, Sumin slammed the door behind her. The sound of it echoed in the empty apartment, leaving San standing in silence, his mind racing.

He couldn’t deny the pang in his chest. He had hurt her. He knew he had. But his heart was telling him something different now. And for the first time in a long while, he was left with a deep sense of uncertainty about everything that had once felt so sure.

San stared at the phone in his hand, the hospital’s number still flashing on the screen. His fingers hovered over the call button, his heart racing with uncertainty. It hadn’t even been a full day since Sumin left, and here he was, grappling with the weight of his decisions. The tension between him and Sumin had reached its breaking point, and now, the silence that followed felt like an echo of everything he had been avoiding.

But in this moment, his mind kept drifting back to you. He had tried to ignore the way his heart raced every time you crossed his mind, the pull toward you that he could no longer push aside. He couldn’t deny it anymore. No more distractions, no more pretending.

He wasn't ready to jump straight into something new, but the thought of seeing you again, hearing your voice without the barriers of work and the hospital—it felt like a chance to breathe. A chance to find out where things could go without the weight of his past decisions holding him back.

His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment longer before he exhaled slowly. No hospitals, no needles. Just you and me. The thought grounded him, the promise of something simpler, something real.

With a deep breath, he pressed the call button, the sound of the phone ringing in his ear as he waited. Each passing second felt heavier than the last.

" something hospital - how can i help you?" the voice said over the line.

" can i leave a message for nurse yn?"

You stepped into the nurse's office, the familiar scent of antiseptic filling the air. Your eyes immediately went to the desk, where a note was placed neatly in the center, its presence unusual and out of place. You frowned, the confusion evident on your face as you scanned the room. No one was around—just the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights above.

Curiosity piqued, you walked over to the desk and picked up the note. It was simple, the handwriting neat and deliberate.

choi san xxx-xxx-xxxx

You stared at the note in your hand, the name Choi San and the number written underneath it standing out starkly. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a mix of surprise and confusion flood over you. The familiarity of the name sent a jolt through your chest, though you couldn’t quite place why.

" told ya~"

Jen’s teasing voice broke through the tension, and you couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit caught off guard. She handed you one of the cups of coffee with a knowing grin, as if she had seen this coming all along.

You felt a nervous chuckle escape your lips, trying to hide your embarrassment behind the steam of the coffee. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, your cheeks still warm. The note had thrown you off balance, and Jen’s teasing only made it worse.

Jen raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “Come on, babe. The way you looked at that note, the way your face lit up when you saw his name… I’m not blind, you know.”

You sighed, taking a sip of your coffee to hide your flustered expression, but there was no escaping Jen’s sharp eye. She had always been able to read you like a book.

“I’m just… confused,” you muttered, staring at the note in your hands again. “I don’t even know why he’d send me this.”

Jen shrugged, her smile softening as she leaned against the counter. “Maybe he just wants to talk. Maybe he needs something from you. You never know what’s going on in his head.”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, still unsure what to make of the situation. Your thoughts were a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You hadn’t expected to hear from him again, especially not this way.

“Do you think I should call him?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Jen took another sip of her coffee, giving you a knowing look. “If you want answers, you’ll have to find out. But don’t let him catch you off guard, okay? You deserve to know what’s going on.”

Her words hung in the air, and you nodded slowly, the decision weighing heavily on your mind.

You sat down heavily, the sticky note in one hand and your phone in the other. Your gaze flicked back to the framed picture you always turned to after long shifts—Wooyoung’s bright, carefree smile staring back at you, a bittersweet reminder of the life you had built and the love you had lost.

Your thumb hovered over the phone screen, the number scrawled on the note replaying in your mind. Choi San. The name felt heavier now, layered with the weight of questions you didn’t know how to ask.

You glanced back at Wooyoung’s photo, as if silently seeking guidance. His grin seemed as warm as ever, a comforting presence that had always grounded you. What would you say, Woo? What would you want me to do?

The thought only made your chest ache more. You had moved forward, for Jun, for yourself—but had you really opened your heart again? This note, this unexpected reach from someone you never thought would step into your life like this, was testing that resolve in ways you hadn’t prepared for.

Taking a shaky breath, you fumbled with your phone, typing in the number slowly. Your heart raced with every digit, your mind cycling through what-ifs. What if this was nothing? What if it was something? What if you weren’t ready for the answers?

You stared at the number on the screen for a long moment before pressing the call button, your breath hitching as the line began to ring.

On the third ring, the call connected. A quiet rustling came through the line before his voice filled your ear, soft and hesitant.

“Hello?” San said, his tone carrying a mix of uncertainty and warmth that sent a jolt through your chest.

Your breath hitched, the sound of his voice catching you off guard. It had been so long since you’d heard it outside the structured confines of the hospital, and yet it was unmistakably him.

“Hi… San,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to shake the nerves threatening to overwhelm you. “It’s… it’s Yn.”

There was a brief pause, but you could hear the faint exhale of relief on the other end.

“I was hoping you’d call,” he admitted quietly. “I—uh—left the note. I wasn’t sure if you’d… you know, want to.”

You blinked, gripping the phone tighter as his words settled in. “Why wouldn’t I?” you asked softly, though your heart raced at the vulnerability in his tone. “What’s going on, San?”

There was another pause, as if he were gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, more tentative.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said. “Not as a patient. Just… me. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, San, I’m not sure that’s—” you began, hesitation lacing your voice.

“Please?” he interrupted, his voice gentle but filled with an urgency that tugged at your heart. “Just… hear me out. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitated, your gaze falling on the photo of Wooyoung again. His smile seemed to encourage you, as if silently reminding you of the strength you carried through everything.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a moment before responding. “Alright, San. I’ll hear you out. What’s on your mind?”

The line went silent for a second, but you could hear him exhale softly, as if the weight of your agreement gave him a sliver of relief.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone sincere. “Can we meet? Somewhere outside the hospital. I just… need to talk to you in person.”

Your grip on the phone tightened slightly. Meeting him felt like stepping into uncharted territory, but there was something in his voice—something genuine, almost vulnerable—that made it hard to say no.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Where and when?”

A pause, then San replied, “There’s a coffee shop near the park. Tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you?”

You nodded to yourself, already feeling the weight of the decision. “I’ll be there,” you said softly.

San sat at a corner table in the cozy coffee shop, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of him. The gentle hum of conversations around him and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee should have been comforting, but all he could focus on was the growing knot of nerves in his stomach.

He glanced at the time on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. You weren’t late—if anything, he’d arrived too early—but the anticipation was eating at him. His mind replayed every possible outcome of this meeting, from the worst-case scenarios to the faint glimmer of hope that you’d understand why he’d reached out.

The barista called out an order, and San glanced toward the door, half expecting to see you walk in. When you weren’t there, he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake. Was this too soon? Was he crossing a line?

Yet, amidst all the doubts, the memory of your kindness kept him rooted to the spot. The way you’d looked at him, spoken to him, treated him like more than just another patient—it had stayed with him, giving him a sense of connection he hadn’t felt in a long time.

As San shifted in his seat, he spotted the same little boy from the other day, the one who had called you noona in the store. His heart skipped a beat, recognizing the familiar figure, and his eyes followed the boy as he walked in, hand in hand with you.

"Come on, sweetie, let’s sit down, and I’ll get you your drink, okay?" you said softly, your voice full of warmth and care as you guided the boy to a nearby table. He nodded eagerly, eyes wide with excitement as he followed your lead.

San’s throat tightened, his thoughts racing. Is he yours? He couldn’t help but wonder, the sight of you and the boy together stirring a whirl of emotions in his chest. The boy wasn’t calling you “eomma,” but the bond between the two of you was undeniable, and it only added to the questions swirling in his mind.

You glanced over at San, catching his gaze as you sat the boy down. There was a moment of awkwardness, a flicker of realization in your eyes as you seemed to register that he had seen you with the boy. You smiled gently, though there was a touch of hesitation behind it.

“Sorry, I hope it’s okay if he sits with us for a bit,” you said, walking back over to San’s table. " the babysitter canceled last minute."

San nodded, trying to keep his composure, but the curiosity burned in the back of his mind. “Of course, it’s fine,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual. He glanced at the boy again, then back at you. “Is… he yours?”

The boy looked up briefly at San, his eyes curious but friendly, before diving back into his coloring. You took the seat across from San, giving the boy a quick glance to ensure he was comfortable before turning your attention back to the man in front of you.

Your smile faltered for a second, but you shook your head gently. “No,” you answered, your voice calm. “He’s not mine. it's complicated."

San nodded slowly, his gaze shifting between you and the boy as he absorbed your words. “Complicated,” he echoed softly, his curiosity clearly piqued but restrained.

The boy seemed oblivious to the conversation, his focus entirely on the colorful swirls and shapes he was creating in his book. The sight brought a faint smile to San’s face, though his mind was racing with questions he wasn’t sure he should ask.

" i can stay here with him while you order your drink? i don't mind," San said softly.

You smiled, " thanks, i'll be quick. "

San watched as you stood up, giving him a grateful smile before heading toward the counter to place your order. Once you were out of earshot, his attention shifted to the boy, who was still engrossed in his coloring.

“Hi there,” San said softly, leaning slightly forward in his chair. “What are you working on?”

The boy glanced up, his eyes bright with curiosity. “A dragon,” he said proudly, holding up the page for San to see. The crude but colorful sketch of a dragon filled the page, its wings stretching wide and its tail curling at the bottom.

“Wow,” San said, his smile widening. “That’s a really cool dragon. What’s his name?”

The boy tapped his chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “Jun. Like me!”

San chuckled, nodding. “That’s a perfect name for a dragon. You must be pretty brave if you named him after yourself.”

Jun straightened up in his chair, puffing out his chest a little. “I’m the bravest! No dragon is scarier than me.”

“Is that so?” San replied, amused by the boy’s confidence. “Well, it looks like Jun the Dragon is lucky to have such a brave friend.”

Jun beamed at the compliment and went back to his coloring, clearly pleased. San leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he watched the boy for a moment. There was something endearing about his energy and innocence, and it was easy to see why you cared for him so much.

When you returned, drink in hand, you caught the tail end of their interaction. “I see you two are getting along,” you said, a hint of amusement in your voice as you sat back down.

San smiled at you, his expression warm. “He’s a great kid,” he said sincerely. “And he’s got some serious dragon-drawing skills.”

Jun grinned, holding up his masterpiece for you to see. “Look, noona! hyung said it’s cool!”

You hummed in acknowledgment, smoothing Jun’s hair gently as he returned to his coloring, his small hands moving confidently over the page. Then, shifting your attention back to San, you asked softly, “Why did you want to meet today?”

San hesitated, his fingers lightly drumming on the edge of the table as he seemed to weigh his words. “I guess… I wanted to talk to you outside of the hospital,” he said finally, his voice quiet but earnest.

Your brow furrowed slightly, your gaze searching his face. “Talk about what?”

He took a breath, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before meeting yours again. “About everything,” he admitted. “About how much you helped me. How much you mattered during… everything I went through. I don’t think I ever really said thank you. Not properly.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the depth of his words. “San,” you began, shaking your head lightly, “you don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.”

“It wasn’t just your job,” he insisted, his tone firmer now. “You made me feel like I wasn’t just a patient. Like I was still a person, even when I felt like everything else in my life was falling apart.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came. The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it left you momentarily speechless.

“You didn’t give me the pity eyes that everyone else did,” he said, his voice softer now but no less heartfelt. “Like I was going to die in the next few hours. You… you made me feel normal, which I hadn’t felt since I lost my hair.”

Your heart ached at his confession, the weight of his vulnerability settling between you. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“San,” you finally said, your tone gentle. He smiled faintly, his fingers tracing an invisible pattern on the table.

" and ... i fell for you yn."

The words hung in the air, like a quiet confession that shifted the atmosphere around you. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t expected that, not in the slightest.

“San,” you whispered, your voice softer now, a mix of surprise and something else stirring inside of you. You searched his eyes for any hint of doubt, but all you found was sincerity—raw and unguarded.

He gave a small, almost apologetic shrug, as if to make light of the weight of what he’d just said. “I know it’s probably not the right time,” he added, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, “but it’s the truth. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it without making things complicated, but…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table, the vulnerability in his eyes deepening.

You felt a lump form in your throat, unsure of how to respond. This was unexpected—more than you were prepared for. You had always been so careful, so focused on keeping things simple, especially with Jun around.

Jun, completely oblivious to the quiet tension, looked up from his coloring with a big grin. “Noona, do you think my dragon could fly?”

You chuckled softly, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Of course it can fly, bud. Dragons can do anything.” You glanced at San, your heart still racing.

" i know , i know we barely know each other but please. I would love to get to know you," San said softly.

You took a slow breath, feeling a mix of emotions stirring inside of you. His words were sincere, and there was an earnestness in his tone that made your heart flutter, despite the hesitations you had. You hadn’t expected this from San—this openness, this vulnerability.

"I get it, San," you began, your voice gentle, "and I’m flattered. Truly. But things are complicated right now, with Jun and everything…" You trailed off, unsure of how to explain the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You hadn’t even considered the possibility of something more with him, not when you were still healing from past wounds, and not when your life revolved around caring for Jun.

" and i'd love to get to know jun too," San smiled, holding his hand out.

You looked at San's outstretched hand, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and there was a warmth to his smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things could work out.

Jun, who had been engrossed in his coloring, looked up at the mention of his name. His curiosity piqued, he glanced at you, then at San, before slowly nodding his head. "You wanna be my friend too?" he asked, his voice sweet and innocent.

San chuckled softly, crouching down to Jun's level. "I’d love to be your friend, Jun," he said, his voice gentle, extending his hand to him.

Jun’s eyes brightened, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he reached out, shaking San’s hand enthusiastically. "Okay! You can help me with my dragon, then!"

You smiled at the exchange, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. Watching San interact with Jun so easily, with such genuine care, made something inside of you shift, even more so than his words had. It was one thing to say he wanted to get to know you, but showing kindness to Jun, without hesitation, felt like something entirely different.

"Deal," San said, his voice light with amusement. "I’m an expert on dragons."

Jun giggled, turning back to his coloring book. "I’m gonna make him fly across the sky!"

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jun’s enthusiasm, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. Maybe this could work—maybe there was something here worth exploring.

With a soft smile, you looked back at San, meeting his gaze. He smiled at you, and you swore you heart flutter.

You paced in your kitchen floor, your mind racing with thoughts. Jun’s soft humming from the table, and his grandmother beside him.

"Yn, darling, you've been pacing for hours. Come sit down, you're making me dizzy." a gentle smile on her face as she sipped her tea.

You paused, guilt flickering in your chest. "Sorry, Mrs. Jung," you muttered, leaning against the counter. Your gaze drifted to Jun, who was completely absorbed in his drawing.

"Sweetheart," Mrs. Jung began, setting her cup down on the table. " what's wrong?"

You let out a long breath, trying to gather your thoughts as you looked at Mrs. Jung, her eyes full of concern. You had always been able to talk to her, but right now, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat.

" i'm nervous. I haven't gone on a date since woo and -" your breathe hitched as Mrs. jung gave a knowing smile.

" hey bud, why don't you go and watch tv for a bit hm?" Mrs. Jung said, picking up Jun from the chair.

You watched as Mrs. Jung gently carried Jun to the living room, her movements calm and steady as she set him down with a soft pat on the head. Jun didn’t seem to notice the shift in the room as he scampered off to the TV, humming to himself as the sounds of cartoons began to fill the house.

Once they were out of earshot, Mrs. Jung returned to the kitchen, her eyes soft with understanding. "It’s normal to feel nervous, sweetheart," she said, her voice gentle but firm. " wooyoung would of wanted you to go on this date."

Your breath caught at the mention of Wooyoung’s name. It had been so long since you’d allowed yourself to think about him in such a way, and hearing his name spoken so gently from Mrs. Jung’s lips made the flood of emotions inside you hard to contain.

You exhaled shakily, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to rise. "I don’t know if I can ever be ready," you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of your heartache. "I don’t want to forget Wooyoung. It feels like… it feels like betraying him, moving on."

Mrs. Jung gave a soft, knowing smile, her eyes filled with compassion. "Darling, you're not betraying him. Loving again doesn’t erase the love you had for my son. It’s a different kind of love. It doesn’t replace what you shared, but it allows you to heal, to open up to new experiences. He would want you to be happy, to live your life fully."

You wiped at your eyes, not wanting to admit the vulnerability you were feeling. "But how do I even try? How do I know it’s right?"

" sweetheart, you'll never know. It's going to be a leap of faith."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in your chest. A leap of faith. It sounded so simple when she said it, but the thought of trusting again—of allowing someone in, especially after all the pain—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what would happen if you jumped.

"But what if I fall? What if it’s too much?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking slightly.

Mrs. Jung gave you a soft, reassuring smile, her hands resting on the counter as she spoke. "You might fall, sweetheart. But you’ll get back up. You’ll always get back up. yn, you went back to work 2 months after Wooyoung died. Honey, no one has the heart like you do."

Her words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, everything went still. You hadn’t realized how much you had buried that part of yourself, the part that had pushed through, day after day, despite the overwhelming grief. Two months. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Mrs. Jung was right. You had gotten up. You had gone back to work, to your routines, to life in a way you never thought you could. It hadn’t been easy, and some days it had felt like you were moving through everything in a haze, but you had done it.

You looked at her, blinking back the unexpected tears that had begun to gather in your eyes. "I don’t feel like I’ve done much, Mrs. Jung. I feel like I’ve just been… existing."

She shook her head, her expression gentle but firm. "Sweetheart, surviving is an achievement in itself. You kept going. You didn’t let the pain swallow you whole. That’s strength. That’s courage."

You swallowed, the tightness in your chest loosening slightly as you absorbed her words. "I didn’t feel strong, though. I still don’t always feel like I’m okay."

Mrs. Jung smiled softly, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "That’s okay. Being strong doesn’t mean you always feel like you are. It’s about getting back up, even when you feel like you can’t. And, honey, you’ve done that. You’re doing that right now."

A shaky breath escaped you as you nodded, feeling the weight of everything—of the grief, of the uncertainty, of the pain—begin to settle in a different way. It wasn’t gone, but maybe it didn’t have to define everything. Maybe you didn’t have to have everything figured out right now. Maybe you just had to keep moving, one step at a time.

" and you have Jun yn. Wooyoung left Jun in your care because he knew. He knew you'll be the one to get back on your feet. "

Mrs. Jung’s gaze softened, her hands gently rubbing your back in comfort. " now, let's get you all dolled up for this date. Gotta meet the man who swoop my daughter."

The knock on the door alarmed you as you heard Jun small, ' i'll get it'.

" jun, no let grandma answer the door!" you called out,

Jun’s voice echoed from the hallway, his little feet padding quickly toward the front door. "I can do it, noona! I’ll get it!"

You rushed after him, but by the time you reached the door, Jun had already opened it wide. You froze for a moment, catching sight of the person standing there.

San stood at the threshold, looking every bit as nervous as you felt. His smile was gentle, the bouquet of flowers in his hand as he looked down at Jun.

" hey little man"

Jun looked up at San with wide, curious eyes. "Hi! You brought flowers for noona?" he asked, his excitement bubbling over.

San smiled down at him, his nerves easing a little at the boy's innocent curiosity. "Yeah, I did. I thought she might like them."

Jun nodded seriously, then gave San a big grin. "Noona loves flowers!"

You couldn’t help but smile at Jun’s straightforwardness. The tension in the air seemed to lift as San chuckled softly, ruffling Jun’s hair. "I hope so, buddy."

"Alright, go ahead, buddy. You can put them in the vase," you said, guiding Jun back inside. "Let me get the door."

As Jun scurried off to the kitchen, you turned back to San, your heart fluttering a little at the gesture. You hadn’t expected flowers, but there they were—bright and fresh, a simple but meaningful token.

San shifted on his feet, looking a little unsure but smiling nonetheless. "I know it’s a little forward, but I thought it might be a nice start."

You took a small breath and stepped forward, reaching out to accept the bouquet. "It’s perfect," you said softly, your voice warm. "Thank you, San."

"Glad you like it," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that made your heart skip a beat.

There was a brief moment of silence between you two, the sound of Jun's giggles from the kitchen filling the space. You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Come on in, I think Jun is making his special snack," you said with a small smile.

San gave a relieved chuckle and stepped inside, the warmth of his smile growing. "I’ll be glad to see what he’s cooking up."

As you led him into the living room, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. Mrs. Jung coming into view as San greeted her.

Mrs. Jung smiled warmly at San as she stepped into the living room, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Hello, San. It’s nice to finally meet you," she said, her tone friendly and inviting.

San looked a little caught off guard but quickly regained his composure, offering a polite smile.

You felt a slight blush rise to your cheeks at the ease with which they were talking. Mrs. Jung had a way of making anyone feel comfortable, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a little too soon for her to meet San. She, however, didn’t seem to mind.

"I’ve heard a lot about you," Mrs. Jung continued, winking playfully at you. "Yn talks about you often, you know."

You felt your face heat up, your hands instinctively reaching to adjust the flowers in your hands. " mrs. jung!"

She chuckled, as Jun came into view. " halmeoni, noona is going to be San hyung friend!"

Mrs. Jung raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye as she looked at Jun. "Oh really? Is that what you think, little one?"

Jun nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. "Yup! San hyung is cool, and he’s nice to noona!" He turned to San, his eyes bright.

San chuckled softly at Jun’s enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, feeling a little lighter despite the nervous energy that had been buzzing around you since the start of the evening. It seemed like Jun had already given his seal of approval.

" you kids go have fun. Jun and I will be here," Mrs. Jung said, giving you a wink.

San smiled, " we can maybe get a snack before the movie?"

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds perfect," you said, your heart lightening at the idea of spending time with San, just the two of you.

Jun, from his spot in the living room, cheered. "Movie time! Don’t take too long, noona!" He giggled, making you laugh too.

"Don’t worry, we won’t be long," you reassured him, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. You placed a kiss on his forehead before turning back to San, your nerves replaced with a sense of calm as you took in the moment.

San smiled at you, his expression genuine and kind. "Alright, snack it is then," he said, gently taking your hand and leading you towards the door.

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air wrapped around you, but it didn’t feel cold. With San by your side, it felt like everything was in the right place. You both walked side by side, the evening stretching out ahead of you, full of possibilities.

~

You laughed at San's joke, his coat wrapped around your shoulder as he chuckled. You leaned into the warmth of his coat, feeling a little more at ease with every step. His laughter was easy and light, and it made you feel like the world had shifted just a bit, making everything feel more manageable.

" i swear, he's my little brother but man do i question if he's adopted or not," San said.

You giggled, " he sounds like a handful. Kinda like Jun"

San laughed, shaking his head. "A handful is an understatement," he said, his voice light but affectionate. "He’s always got a million ideas running through his head, and somehow, he convinces me to go along with them."

" jun is much like his father.." You said softly, looking up at the stars as San walked beside you.

San's steps slowed as he listened to your words, his eyes flicking to the stars above before he turned his attention back to you. He could hear the softness in your voice, the weight of the sentiment behind it.

" what was Jun's dad like, if you don't mind me asking?" San looked at you, watching your features to make sure you're comfortable.

You took a deep breath, pausing for a moment as you thought about how to answer. The memories of Wooyoung were still so fresh, but talking about him didn’t feel as painful as it once did. Maybe it was because San had made you feel like it was okay to share, like it was safe to open up again.

"wooyoung was full of energy, always joking around, always trying to make people laugh. He had this way of making even the hardest days feel lighter, like nothing was ever too serious when he was around. But when it came to the people he loved, he was incredibly protective. He’d do anything for them."

You smiled, remembering the little moments, the big gestures. "He was stubborn, though. Very stubborn. He always thought he knew best, even when he didn’t. But in the end, he had a heart of gold." You paused, your smile faltering just slightly. "He was the kind of person who could light up a room with just his presence, and he didn’t even have to try."

San listened intently, his expression soft and empathetic. "Sounds like he really cared about those around him."

You nodded, your chest tight as you spoke. "He did. He cared a lot. Especially about Jun. He’d always say that Jun would be his greatest legacy. That no matter what, he’d make sure Jun knew how much he was loved, even if he couldn’t be there to show him."

San gave you a knowing look, his voice gentle as he spoke. "It sounds like Wooyoung left behind a lot of love. And Jun’s lucky to have had him as his dad."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words. " he is and i wouldn't have changed it for the world,"

San smiled gently, his eyes soft as he looked at you. There was a sense of admiration in his gaze, something that made you feel seen in a way that was comforting. "It’s clear how much he meant to you, and how much you mean to Jun," he said quietly, his tone sincere. "I can see why you’re such a strong person. You’ve carried so much love, and you’ve kept going for both of them."

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I don’t always feel strong, but I try. For Jun, especially." You glanced over at San, the quiet support he offered making you feel more grounded. "Some days are harder than others, but I just remind myself that Wooyoung wouldn’t want us to stop living."

San's voice was gentle but firm. "And he wouldn’t want you to carry it all alone either." His gaze held yours, his words unspoken but clear. "I’m here, whenever you need someone to talk to, or even just to be there."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through you. San held his hand out for you, and without hesitation you grabbed it. San's hand was warm, his grip firm but gentle as your fingers intertwined. It felt natural, as if this simple gesture carried the reassurance you didn’t know you needed. He gave your hand a small squeeze, his smile soft as he glanced at you.

San’s gaze was soft, yet it held an intensity that made your breath catch. His hand lingered near your face, the gentle brush of his fingers against your skin sending a warmth radiating through you. The world seemed to quiet in that moment, the sounds of the city fading into the background as his eyes searched yours.

"Yn..." San’s voice was soft, almost reverent, as if your name held more weight than you realized. It wasn’t just the way he said it—it was the look in his eyes, a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you met his gaze. His hands moved gently to your waist, the warmth of his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. San pulled you closer, closing the space between you with an ease that felt natural, as if this moment had always been waiting to happen.

His eyes searched yours, his expression open and sincere, the question hanging delicately in the air. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice almost trembling with anticipation.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there under the soft glow of the streetlights.

You nodded slowly, your voice failing you, but the small smile on your lips told him everything he needed to know. "Yes," you whispered, so softly it was almost carried away by the breeze.

San’s smile widened, the vulnerability in his eyes replaced by a warmth that made you feel weightless. His hands, still resting on your waist, gently guided you closer as he leaned in. His movements were slow, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted, but you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed.

When his lips met yours, it was soft and tentative at first, like a question waiting to be answered. But as you leaned into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt for balance, the kiss deepened, becoming something sweeter, something filled with a quiet passion that left you breathless.

The world seemed to stand still, the noise of the city fading into nothingness. All you could feel was him—the warmth of his hands, the softness of his lips, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your own. It was a kiss that felt like a promise, unspoken but deeply understood.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting lightly against his, San’s smile was radiant, his cheeks flushed. "I’ve been wanting to do that for so long," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed softly, your own cheeks warm as you looked up at him. "I’m glad you did," you replied, your voice full of honesty.

In that moment, everything felt right.

one year later....

Jun's laughter echoed across the backyard, his little hands gripping San’s head for balance as he perched on San's shoulders. His giggles were infectious, drawing matching smiles from you and Mrs. Jung as you watched the two from the porch.

“Higher, hyung! Higher!” Jun squealed, kicking his legs excitedly. San pretended to wobble, earning another round of delighted laughter from the boy.

"Careful now," Mrs. Jung warned lightly, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "We don’t need a trip to the emergency room today."

San chuckled, steadying Jun with a firm grip on his legs. "Don’t worry, Mrs. Jung. I've got him."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Jun’s got you wrapped around his little finger already, doesn’t he?"

San glanced back at you, a wide grin on his face. "What can I say? The kid’s irresistible."

Jun leaned forward, his face upside down as he looked at you. "Noona! Hyung is the best! Can we keep him?"

Both you and Mrs. Jung burst into laughter at his innocent plea, while San’s face flushed slightly. He reached up to ruffle Jun's hair, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I think you’re stuck with me now, bud."

Mrs. Jung gave you a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with warmth. "Well, he’s certainly fitting in nicely," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you watched San and Jun together, the sight stirring something deep within you. You hummed in acknowledgment as you took a sip from your drink. Mrs. Jung brought out a piece of paper.

Your breath caught as you stared at the papers in Mrs. Jung’s hands, the weight of their significance settling over you. The edges of the document were slightly worn, as though it had been handled carefully many times before.

“Are those…?” you whispered, unable to finish the sentence, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mrs. Jung nodded, her expression tender. "Adoption papers for Jun," she confirmed softly. "With Wooyoung’s signature."

You felt your knees weaken, and you instinctively reached for the porch railing to steady yourself. Your gaze darted between the papers and Mrs. Jung’s face, searching for an explanation, even though you already knew what this meant.

" honey, he knew you would of signed these paper in a heartbeat but he also wanted Jun to have the best step father and from the looks of it, San is an amazing father towards Jun already."

Your lips quivered as Mrs. Jung’s words sank in, each one weaving into the tender ache in your heart. You looked at her, the understanding and love in her eyes making your emotions bubble up to the surface.

“He really thought of everything, didn’t he?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You glanced over at San, who was now holding Jun’s hands and spinning him around gently, their laughter blending together in perfect harmony.

Mrs. Jung smiled knowingly, her hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Wooyoung loved you, sweetheart. He loved Jun. He wanted both of you to be happy, even if he couldn’t be here to see it. And I think,” she said, her voice soft but certain, “he knew that someone like San would come into your life.”

Your gaze lingered on San, watching the way he interacted with Jun—kind, patient, and full of joy. It was almost as if Wooyoung’s wishes were coming to life before your eyes.

“He’s been so good to Jun,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “And to me.”

Mrs. Jung chuckled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “It’s clear as day, Ynie. San isn’t just good to Jun. He loves you both.”

You held the papers close to your chest, the weight of them feeling lighter than before. San sensing your discomfort looked at you as he set Jun down. San’s brow furrowed slightly, concern evident in his gaze as he approached you. Jun ran off to grab his favorite toy, leaving the two of you standing together in the gentle afternoon sun.

“Hey,” San said softly, his voice steady and warm. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, though the papers pressed against your chest felt like they were carrying years of memories and emotions. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

San tilted his head, his eyes searching yours for the truth. “You sure? You’ve got that look… like there’s a lot on your mind.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped you as you lowered the papers, glancing at them before looking back up at him. “It’s just… a lot. Mrs. Jung gave me these.” You held the papers out, your hands trembling slightly. “They’re adoption papers for Jun. Wooyoung signed them before he… before he passed.”

San’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze flickering to the papers and then back to you. He stepped closer, his voice gentle but resolute. His smile grew as Jun came by your side - a velvet box in his hand as he handed it to San.

San knelt to Jun's level, his smile soft and full of warmth. "You sure you want to help me with this, buddy?" he asked gently, ruffling Jun's hair.

Jun nodded eagerly, his little hands clasped together as he bounced on his toes. "Uh-huh! You said it’s for noona, and I wanna help!"

You tilted your head in confusion, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of the velvet box. “San, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

San straightened, the box resting firmly in his hand as he turned to face you. His expression was open, filled with vulnerability and determination all at once. He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled in the sunlight.

“Yn,” San began, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling in his eyes. “Meeting you and Jun has changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You’ve shown me strength, love, and what it means to truly care for someone. And Jun… he’s an amazing kid because of you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you watched him kneel down, the moment feeling surreal.

“I don’t want to just be a part of your life,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want to be there for every moment—the good, the bad, and everything in between. I want to be a family with you and Jun. So, Yn… will you marry me?”

Jun tugged on your sleeve, his grin infectious. “Say yes, noona! Say yes!”

You laughed through your tears, your hand flying to your mouth as your emotions overwhelmed you. Looking down at San, at Jun’s hopeful face, and at the ring that symbolized a new beginning, you felt your heart soar.

“Yes,” you whispered, then louder, “Yes, I will.”

San’s face broke into a radiant smile as he stood, slipping the ring onto your finger before wrapping you in a tight embrace. Jun cheered loudly, wrapping his small arms around both of you, completing the picture of a family you never thought you’d find again.

[landososcar]

packing it up ; LN4

— pairing(s) ; college hockey player!lando x figure skater!reader

— summary ; in which lando's transfer to a new school not only brings him a new team, classes, and friends, but a girl who will change his life forever.

— warnings ; not edited, i'm not american, im also not a figure skater so there's probs plenty of inaccuracies lolll

chapter two — prev … next

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

that night, i couldn’t stop replaying the dinner conversation in my head. lily’s unwavering support wasn’t surprising—she’d always been in my corner—but lando? his empathy had caught me completely off guard. i didn’t know if it made me feel comforted or embarrassed. 

as i lay in bed staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

i sat up, my heart skipping a beat as i reread the message. my thumbs hovered over the screen, but i had no idea how to respond. why would lando go out of his way to talk to his mum about me? we weren’t close; i barely knew him.

but as i put my phone down, a spark of hope flickered in my chest.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

the next morning, i returned to the rink, throwing myself into practice with a determination that bordered on desperation. the icy air bit at my cheeks as i glided across the ice, pushing my body to its limits. the rhythmic sound of my blades slicing through the rink was usually soothing, but today it wasn’t enough to quiet my thoughts and the knot in my chest wouldn’t loosen.

i was mid-spin when a warm, unfamiliar voice called out from the edge of the rink.

“beautiful form.” startled, i faltered slightly but regained my balance before turning toward the source. a woman stood near the boards, dressed in a stylish coat and scarf, her posture poised and confident. there was something familiar about her—the same warm eyes, the same gentle smile, “you must be y/n.”

i skated over, unsure of what to say. “that’s me. and you are...?”

“cisca norris,” she said, extending a hand. “lando’s mum. he told me a bit about your situation, and i thought i’d come take a look.”

my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “oh, i—he didn’t need to do that.”

she smiled kindly. “he’s a good boy, my lando. and a little stubborn when he wants to help. i’m glad he told me, though. i can see you’re very talented.”

“thank you,” i said, still feeling flustered. “but i don’t even have a partner or a coach anymore. i’m kind of stuck.”

her expression softened. “you’re not stuck. you’re just at a crossroads. if you’re willing to put in the work, i’d be happy to help.”

“you’d... coach me?” my voice cracked slightly, disbelief colouring the words. i didn’t know what to say – i didn’t want to be a burden to her, and i didn’t know how to repay her.

she nodded. “i haven’t coached in years, but i still know what it takes. and i’ve got a really good feeling about you, y/n.”

i blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion. “thank you, b-but i don’t know how to repay you for this… i don’t know what to say.”

“say you’ll show up tomorrow ready to work,” she said smiling, “we’ll take it one step at a time.” i nodded almost desperately and she must’ve seen the water brimming on my eyes because she went to pull me into a hug, “and as for payment,” she said gently, “just make sure my son is feeling at home, would you?”

i laughed softly, wiping my eyes. “i was gonna do that anyway.”

“i thought you might say that,” she said with a smile, brushing an invisible strand of hair from my face before we parted.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

as i got back to my dorm for the night, i was greeted by my best friend’s beautiful smile. lily was sprawled across her bed, headphones on and sketchbook in hand, her pencil moving in quick, confident strokes.

she looked up as i closed the door behind me, her eyes lighting up. “hey! how was the rink?”

i kicked off my shoes, my heart still buzzing from the day’s events. “you’re not going to believe this.”

her eyebrows shot up in intrigue as she sat up straighter. “spill. right now.”

i tossed my bag onto my bed and sank into the desk chair, still trying to process everything myself. “okay, so... lando talked to his mum about me. apparently, she’s a former skating coach.”

lily’s jaw dropped. “no way.”

“and not only that—she came to the rink today. she offered to coach me, lily. can you believe it? out of nowhere, she just... showed up and said she wanted to help.”

for a moment, lily just stared at me, then she let out an excited squeal, throwing her arms in the air. “i knew it! i told you lando was the best! and his mum? she sounds like an actual legend.”

i laughed, her enthusiasm infectious. “she is. i mean, she’s amazing. the way she coaches, the way she just... believes in me. i don’t even know how to thank her—or him, for that matter.”

lily rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin in her hands. “you thank her by killing it at practice tomorrow. and as for lando...” she smirked mischievously. “you could always bake him cookies or something. or, you know, just say thank you like a normal person.”

i rolled my eyes, though i couldn’t help but smile. “i’ll figure it out. but honestly, it feels like things might actually be looking up for the first time in forever.”

lily beamed at me, her expression softening. “of course they are. you’re incredible, y/n. you just needed the right people in your corner. and now you’ve got them.”

warmth spread through me, easing some of the tension that had been weighing me down for weeks. i didn’t say it out loud, but lily’s unwavering belief in me meant just as much as cisca’s. maybe, just maybe, she was right. maybe things really were finally looking up.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

the next morning, i arrived at the rink early, my nerves humming with anticipation as i laced up my skates, the sharp cold of the ice already creeping through my layers. today wasn’t just another practice.it was the first step toward figuring out my future—and maybe, just maybe, rebuilding what i thought i’d lost.

as i stood on the ice, stretching and warming up, cisca arrived. she walked in with a graceful confidence that made her instantly commanding yet approachable. a small bag hung from her shoulder, and her warm smile made me feel instantly at ease.

“good morning, y/n,” she greeted, her voice as gentle as it had been the day before.

“good morning,” i replied, my voice trembling slightly with nerves.

she set her bag down on the bench and pulled out a notebook, “i have to admit, i missed this,” she said, almost to herself. “it’s been a while since i’ve coached, but it all comes back so easily.”

i couldn’t help but smile, her enthusiasm was a little contagious. “thank you for doing this. it means more to me than i can say.”

she waved a hand dismissively, though her smile softened. “lando said he’s been told you’re very talented,” she paused with a smile, “i think you’ve got some amazing friends willing to help you however they can… let’s get started.”

the next hour passed in a blur of movement and focus, diving into the intricacies of technique. cisca’s coaching style was unlike anything i’d experienced. she was direct, offering feedback that was honest but never harsh. when i struggled with a step or faltered during a spin, she didn’t scold; she analyzed.

“your jump is good, but let’s work on the timing of your takeoff,” she said at one point, skating out onto the ice to demonstrate. “if you push off too early, you lose momentum. watch me.”

she executed the jump with ease, landing gracefully and turning back to me with an encouraging nod. “now you.”

i tried again, this time paying closer attention to her tips, and when i landed smoothly, she clapped lightly. “there it is! perfect.”

her praise sent a swell of pride through me, something i hadn’t felt in months. maria had always been strict and demanding, rarely offering compliments unless the move was flawless. with cisca, it felt different. her belief in me wasn’t conditional; it was unwavering.

by the end of the session, my muscles ached in a satisfying way, and my spirits were higher than they’d been in weeks. i sat on the bench unlacing my skates when cisca joined me, her expression thoughtful.

“you’re a hard worker,” she said, breaking the comfortable silence. “that’s a quality even the most talented skaters can lack. if you keep that up, you’re going to go far.”

i looked at her, unsure how to put my gratitude into words. “thank you,” i said, my voice soft. “for everything. i don’t know how to repay you.”

her hand rested lightly on mine, her touch warm and reassuring. “you don’t owe me anything, y/n. i’m happy to help. and honestly,” she added with a playful smile, “you’ve already made it worth my while just by showing up and giving it your all.”

i chuckled, feeling my cheeks warm. “still... thank you.”

she leaned back slightly, her gaze turning more serious. “and don’t forget what i said yesterday—make sure lando feels at home here. he’s putting on a brave face, but i know my son. he’s adjusting, too.”

the mention of lando made me pause, her words stirring something in me. “i will,” i promised. “he’s been so kind to me already. he must get it from you.”

cisca smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that reminded me of lando. “he’s got his moments,” she said with a wink.

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

later that afternoon, i found myself walking back toward the skating arena. lando had practice, and while i hadn’t planned on going, cisca’s words lingered in my mind. i owed him at least a thank-you.

the unmistakable sound of skates cutting across ice greeted me as i stepped inside. the cold air nipped at my cheeks, but the energy of the rink was infectious. players zipped back and forth, their movements sharp and deliberate, the clatter of sticks and pucks echoing through the space.

it didn’t take long to spot him. lando moved with a precision that stood out, his focus intense as he weaved through the defence. even as someone unfamiliar with hockey, i could tell he was good—really good.

when he skated off the ice for a break, he noticed me standing near the boards. his face lit up with surprise as he walked over, his cheeks flushed from exertion. “y/n! didn’t expect to see you here.”

i smiled, feeling slightly awkward because of the other men around us, but pushing through it. “i just wanted to say thank you. for talking to your mum. she’s... amazing. i can’t believe she’s helping me.”

he grinned, leaning casually against the boards. “told you she was the best. so, how’d it go?”

“she’s incredible,” i said earnestly. “i feel like i might actually have a chance now. i don’t know how to repay either of you.”

“you don’t need to,” he said easily. “mum wouldn’t do it if she didn’t believe in you. and honestly, i’m glad i could help. you’ve been through enough.”

his sincerity caught me off guard, and for a moment, i just looked at him, unsure what to say. finally, i smiled. “well, i owe you at least a coffee or something.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “i’ll hold you to that.” i laughed, watching him skate back onto the ice with the rest of his team before heading out of the bulky double doors and back to lily and i’s shared dorm. 

later that night, as i laid in bed trying to rid my mind of the pretty boy with the brown curls so i could sleep, my phone lit up with a notification. i sighed and debated on checking it, knowing the light from my phone would completely restart my attempt at sleeping. i grabbed it from the bed side table and couldnt help the upturn of my lips when i saw what it said.

landonorris started following you!

⸝⸝ ʚ 𖥔❆ ! ⌗ °•˚❆ ˖⋆*ೃ ༄

a/n ; i’m so sorry this took so long lmaooo chapter 3 is pretty much done so i’ll post it asap (fr this time)

taglist (comment or send an ask to be added<3) ; @leclercdream @britenysbitch @cabbyhabs @jule239 @tvdtw4ever @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @f1and1d4eva @sid-is-gr8

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty-Seven

The fallout from Silco's most recent stunt sends shockwaves through the Haven... but not as much as his latest attempt to ensnare you.

Ongoing Silco x fem!reader fic (no reader description, no use of 'Y/N')

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: Drug mentions, mentions of addiction and relapse, mentions of poisoning, innuendo, unprotected sex, restraints, emotional conversations, references to Silco's operations in Arcane Season One

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

The fallout from Silco’s stunt kept the Haven occupied for almost a month. 

Not only had he leaked Shimmer into the streets, he had ordered his distributors to offer it at one-third the usual price. Anyone who wasn’t fully recovered had been unable to refuse an offer like that, and the patient relapses you’d seen in the neighborhood had numbered in the triple digits.

The only thing that had kept you going was that the neighborhood had poured out support for the Haven. Jazper and Ronid had come by with two additional doctors, hired temporarily to help assist with the recovery efforts. The other members of the Undercity Innovation Committee had donated other things: enough food to support the Haven without sparing volunteers for kitchen duty, free electrical and maintenance work, help writing grant proposals, and some extra donation money. 

Even people who had nothing to do with governing the Undercity had reached out to support the Haven, doing everything from clearing rubble from the entrance to guarding the building at night. 

It was humbling, and you worked around the clock to take care of everyone who had chosen to keep fighting their addiction. 

Fortunately for both the Haven and the struggles of its patients, Silco’s Shimmer sale seemed to have been an isolated incident. The dealers had been pulled from the area and no one had seen them since that fateful night. It didn’t speed the recovery of the people who had been impacted, but it helped reduce the number of people who came in needing help. 

An unexpected downside to Silco’s new, self-imposed business limitations was that he was doing his best to start communicating with you again. 

Every day, you found a letter waiting outside of your door. More often than not, you found a different letter waiting on your desk at the end of the day. You had briefly started avoiding your office, but the envelopes appeared on your pillow. 

No matter how many people you asked, no one admitted to delivering letters for Silco. Clearly, he had someone at the Haven who was willing to do some work on his behalf. The problem was that you had no idea how to figure out who it was. There were more unfamiliar faces in the Haven than familiar ones, these days, and it wasn’t as if you could start turning people away on suspicion that they were working for the head Chem Baron himself. 

You suspected that Silco wanted to meet. It was only a suspicion, since you refused to read any of the letters. You didn’t know who was delivering them, so it wasn’t as if you could send them back to him unopened to make your point. You settled for burning them, leaving enough for whoever was sneaking into your office to see that you had never opened a single envelope.

But at last, the number of patients began to dwindle. Having beaten their Shimmer addictions back for the moment, people left the Haven. Some of them came back to work with other patients or to volunteer on a more permanent basis. That helped, but you were still relieved when the number of patients from the surprise Shimmer release returned to the single digits. 

The day your borrowed doctors left the Haven was the day you finally relaxed. The remainder of the patients were in the final stages of their withdrawal and actively working toward recovery. Things were wrapping up nicely, but there was also the benefit of having fewer people in the Haven who could be delivering Silco’s letters. 

And yes, you did feel bad about counting that as a benefit. 

You stopped by your office that night, tired almost beyond reason. Perhaps that was the reason you were filled with near-rage at the sight of the envelope on your desk. 

You snatched it up from the desk, but your hands refused to obey your commands from there. Instead of flinging it into the fireplace, they ripped it open and pulled the page free. Silco’s angular writing was difficult to read in the shivering light of the fire, but you managed. 

My dearest philanthropist, 

I would say that I have given up all hope of you reading my letters, but I know two things: firstly, that you are insatiably curious. If you were not, I believe our association would not have lasted nearly so long as it has. 

Secondly, and more importantly, you know that I would not reach out idly. Surely you know me well enough by now to suspect that I would make an offer. 

Of course, you would have recognized far earlier than this that I was interested in bargaining with you, but it has been reported to me that you have yet to open a single one of my letters. 

Before I propose any further deals, I will assume you are still upset about your lost opportunity to work for Piltover. Have you not yet realized that I acted as I did as a favor to you? Piltover has never worked toward any ends that did not benefit them directly. It is likely that they would have positioned you as a scapegoat when their task force failed… and it would have. 

In any case, you would have lost your reputation in the Undercity as surely as you believe it has suffered across the river. The recovery of a reputation in Zaun is a far longer and more arduous process than it is in Piltover. 

I find myself rambling in this letter, and I blame you. With no guarantee of when you will finally open one of my messages, I am forced to write from somewhere softer than my mind. Perhaps not my heart, but somewhere nearer its vicinity than I am accustomed. 

Allow me to make my offer before this letter grows still longer: come to The Last Drop. I want to discuss terms with you face-to-face. For my end of the deal, I will vow to keep Shimmer from ever entering the Haven’s neighborhood again. You can decide what you are willing to give in exchange. 

I hope to see you soon, sweetheart.

- Silco 

You stared at the page long after you had finished reading. You didn’t trust Silco’s offer - not in the slightest. But if there was a chance you could keep Shimmer off of the streets permanently, wouldn’t you be far more foolish not to look into it? 

That was what had gotten you into this mess, and the one before it, and the one before that, but what was your alternative? If there was any hope you could help someone, how could you refuse to take the risk? Even if you were the one who would suffer if that hope turned out to be false. 

You didn’t burn the envelope. Not because you were tired, or feeling sentimental. If you were going to show up at The Last Drop, you were going to make sure Silco knew you were coming. Whoever was leaving the envelopes had clearly told him that they were going unread. With any luck, they would report back to him that you had read this one. 

Silco would know what it meant. 

You slept soundly that night, dreams held at bay for the first time in well over a week. The plan had been formulated, and there was nothing left to do until the following day. 

Just after ten the next morning, you left the Haven. Okkan had wanted to come with you, but you had assured him and Fletcher that you were fine. Yi was sleeping after her late guard shift; she would have been much more difficult to convince. 

The Lanes were quiet, as they always were in the morning. In the weak midmorning light, you could almost consider them peaceful. Fortunately, you also weren’t stupid, so you kept your guard up to avoid any enterprising and motivated pickpockets deciding to practice their craft first-thing in the morning. 

The door to The Last Drop was unlocked, and you let yourself in without a fuss. If the unlocked door hadn’t convinced you that Silco knew you were coming, the sight of the main bar would have. 

The mismatched tables and chairs that typically filled the space in front of the bar had been cleared away. Instead, there was a small table draped with a white tablecloth and topped with a small flower arrangement. Chairs sat on either side of the table, angled so that neither had its back to the main door. 

“Good morning,” Silco greeted, walking around the bar. 

He looked incredibly… domestic. His sleeves were rolled up so he could carry a silver tray with a cover on it. You watched dumbly as he set the tray on the table, worried for a moment that it would hold a severed head or something equally horrifying, but he removed the cover to reveal breakfast. 

The plates, both bearing your favorite breakfast - when had he found that out? - were placed in front of either seat, while a smaller dish of pastries ended up beside the flowers. Silco tucked the tray and the cover behind the bar and rejoined you.

“Do not worry,” he told you with a smile. “I remember that you do not trust the food I offer you. You choose your preferred seat and I will gladly sample everything first so you know it is trustworthy.” 

You frowned for a moment, wracking your mind for what he could be talking about. At last, a shadowy memory appeared, one in which you were waiting for your first meeting with Silco. You hadn’t touched the food he had sent out for you. Apparently, he was determined that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. 

You took a seat, watching as Silco sat opposite you. He cut a bite of food, checking to be sure that you were watching him. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you told him quietly. He paused, eyes searching your face intently. “If you were going to kill me, you would just kill me. Poison isn’t really your style.” 

Silco’s smile faded. “I would prefer that you trust me because I have proven myself trustworthy, but I suppose that is a point well-made. Poison has never been a favorite tool of mine, and never one I would deploy against you.” 

You hummed skeptically and took a bite of your breakfast without further comment. 

“If I may,” Silco said, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, “what drove you to open one of my letters?” 

You pondered the question, taking a sip of water before offering your answer. “I’m not really sure. Maybe I just hoped you had something worthwhile to say.” 

Silco’s polite smile turned to something sharper. “And I assume, from your presence here, that you were satisfied?” 

The way he purred ‘satisfied’ wreaked havoc on your body, not least because your psyche had decided that now was the perfect time to play back all of the hyper-realistic dreams you’d had about him over the past month. 

With any luck, none of that was showing on your face. “Maybe I’m just curious to see what price you plan to ask in exchange for keeping Shimmer off of the streets.” 

Silco’s face grew serious once more. “I meant what I wrote. You name what you are willing to give for it.” 

“Last time, you had a specific price in mind,” you remarked, half-hoping for another smirk. 

Silco didn’t take the bait. “I mean for this to be a negotiation, one taking place between two equal parties. You name your offer and I will decide if it is fair.” 

A distinct throb between your thighs let you know that your libido would be thrilled to make the same deal as you had last time. Your brain warned that it was a bad idea, but that voice was growing steadily quieter under the flood of lust surging through your body.

It would be easier, you realized, if Silco just wanted your body. If you could narrow down what he wanted to something as simple and limited as the option to fuck you a few times a month. 

But in the light of your newly realized feelings, you couldn't ignore that he hadn't done that. Silco hadn't given any hint of what he might want from you, but he also hadn't limited you to making offers based on physical pleasure. 

It was so much worse. You would rather keep yourself from having any hope at all rather than risk everything for the slim possibility that he felt a shadow of what you did. 

You set your fork down, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You had come here for a purpose - to keep Shimmer away from the Haven. It didn't matter if doing that meant denying yourself. You were used to that. The important thing was helping people. That was all that had ever been important. 

“If we want this to be a business discussion, maybe we should go to your office,” you suggested. Silco watched you blankly, and you expanded, “I've seen you do quite a bit of business and none of it ever happened in an empty bar.”

“Would you care to finish your breakfast first?” Silco asked. 

Your stomach was right with nerves, with fear that you wouldn't be able to come to an agreement with him. Even the few bites you had taken were sitting heavily. 

You shook your head. “Not unless you need the time to finish yours.” 

Silco stood immediately. “Unnecessary. Follow me.” 

You were amused despite yourself as you followed Silco to his office. It wasn't as if you hadn't been there before - you knew the way. But if he wanted to lead, there was something more to it. Maybe he just wanted to prove that he was willing to have you at his back. 

Silco’s office was precisely the same as it had been the last time you were there. The desk spoke of the messy mind and busy life of someone doing his best to rule a city. The wicked-looking lance he used for his eye was kept carefully behind the desk, but it was softened slightly by the neon doodles on the handle. The furniture was just as austere as ever, though it was less intimidating when you could vividly remember every time you had been sprawled naked across each surface. 

Somehow, it felt like home, and that made your stomach tighten reflexively with nerves.

Silco sat behind his desk, motioning for you to sit across from him. When you did, he folded his hands on the desk’s surface, fixing you with a mismatched stare. “If you prefer to get straight to business, let us do so. What are you willing to give me in exchange for the Haven’s neighborhood remaining free of Shimmer?” 

You smiled mirthlessly. “I have nothing you want.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far, my dear,” Silco said, openly admiring you. 

The exchange was familiar, a faint echo of the conversation that had started you both on this path. There was a gleam in Silco’s eyes, a fond reminiscence that made you want to smile at him in earnest. 

But you gathered your willpower and shook your head. “We can’t make that deal again, remember? When you came to the Haven last month, you said that was the only chance to resume our original deal. I turned you down.”

“I could be persuaded to make an exception.” 

You arched a brow. “Really? This would be the first time I’ve ever seen it. Why?” 

“I miss you,” he admitted openly. When you frowned, he leaned toward you. “No lies or manipulations - I have missed you. I have felt your absence every day since we ended our meetings.”

“You missed me, so you released Shimmer outside of the Haven?” you asked, wincing at the open hurt in your voice. “You missed me so badly that the only thing you could do was try to destroy everything I’ve worked toward for the past few years of my life?” 

“I had to-” Silco broke off with a rueful laugh. “I had to give you a reason to come back to me.” 

You gaped. “So you-?” 

Silco raised his hand, cutting off your protestations. “No, pet, let me say this. I need to, and I need you to listen. And if you still hate me afterward, I will let you live in peace. No more Shimmer and no more contact with me, I give you my word.” 

After a moment of consideration, you sat back in your chair and motioned for him to continue. 

With a deep breath, he did. “I know you have no need for me. Everything I provided for you, you are well capable of getting for yourself. You have managed without my security team, you found support for your Haven that has nothing to do with my donations, and you stood against Shimmer sales in the area. You have built a fine enterprise. I- I have nothing to offer you anymore.”

“So I had to resort to underhanded dealings.” Silco shook his head with a rueful little smile. “Perhaps you do not realize how well the Haven withstood my Shimmer. I pulled my dealers, but they were far less profitable than I had expected. I would have withdrawn them regardless. I did regret my actions, but they were born of desperation. You wouldn’t agree to a new deal, and I realized how capable you are even without assistance from me. ”

Silco pressed his hands against the desk’s surface, making grim eye contact with you. “I hoped that I could push you into answering me. More than that, I hoped to force you into making another deal with me, into seeing that you could not survive down here without my protection. I was wrong. You have made a place for yourself here and - more importantly - you have found a way to care for the people of Zaun. I see what you have done to change and shape their lives and it has forced me to accept what I have known for months: I am yours.” 

The kind thing would be to say something in reply to that revelation. You wanted to, but it was so far from anything you had expected him to say that you couldn’t do anything but gape at him. Silco’s gaze stayed trained on your face, but there was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that spoke of nervousness. 

“If-” You broke off to clear your throat, trying to make your voice sound less waveringly uncertain. “If you aren’t being sincere, please don’t say that. Don’t joke about it or use it to manipulate me. Please.” 

“Manipulate you?” Silco repeated, sounding irritated. “Pet, you don’t seem to understand that I have done the very opposite. I have given you the keys to everything I can offer. I have given you the simplest possible way to manipulate me.” 

“I wouldn’t,” you assured him instantly. He lifted a brow and you repeated, “I wouldn’t.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” he asked. “You could everything you wanted without being required to give anything in return-”

“Because I care about you, Silco,” you snapped. 

Immediately afterward, a deathly silence fell in the office and you leapt to your feet. There was nothing to do but leave after that. 

You didn’t make it even halfway to the door before Silco caught your arm, holding you steady as he stared down into your face. 

“If you are being insincere, please don’t say that.” You might have thought he was mocking you if he hadn’t looked so terribly concerned.

“Silco, why would I possibly lie about that?” you asked. “If you’re right and you’ve given me everything, why would I lie about my feelings? To not use the keys you gave me?” 

“You-” It wasn’t often that you saw Silco thrown off his game, but he seemed to struggle to find the right words. “You love me?” 

Strictly speaking, neither of you had said anything about love. But in the privacy of your thoughts, you had realized weeks ago that your feelings for Silco had run deeper than you had ever assumed. There was no other reason you would still care about him after everything he had done. 

Besides, you had already come this far. 

“Yes.” 

Silco was studying you with the stunned, slightly suspicious look of a mad scientist watching a successful experiment and you were starting to think this entire meeting had been a mistake. 

“Maybe we should-” 

Your suggestion was left forever unfinished as Silco kissed you suddenly, deeply, and with such fierceness that it took your breath away. When your lungs were screaming, you pushed him away. He didn’t go far, staying close enough that you could feel his rapid breathing across your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Feels like we should talk about this.” 

Silco chuckled against your neck. “I can think of several more productive ways we could spend our time…” 

Everything in your body voiced a sudden and vehement opinion that Silco was right, and that sounded like a much better idea. You lifted your face for another kiss and Silco was quick to indulge you. 

The next few minutes were a bit of a blur. There was kissing and touching and the marvelous scent of Silco - how could you have missed one person so much? - and when it was over, you were lying naked on his bed. Silco was finishing stripping off his own clothes, eyes already devouring you with a predatory eagerness that probably should have scared you. 

When he was as bare as you, Silco joined you on the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, kissing every bit of skin he could reach and exploring the rest with his wandering hands. You arched against him, fighting for as much contact as possible. It was like your body was drinking him in, soaking up everything you had been missing out on since your deal had been on pause. 

Silco’s fingers were even more dextrous than you remembered, plying your flesh and molding you still closer. If there was a breath of space between you, it was only so that he could sneak a touch into that same spot. You felt like you were on fire, but it only drove you to kiss him with more desperation. 

When you couldn’t stand it anymore, you reached down and took his length in a firm grip. The heat of him throbbed in your hand and Silco’s natural eye went heavy-lidded. He leaned forward to press another kiss to your lips, pulling away just far enough to whisper, “Missed you, pet.” 

It reminded you so strongly of the vivid dreams you had experienced that you nipped his lip to see if he would react like a real person. If you were dreaming again, you would be incredibly disappointed…

Silco pulled back with a garbled curse before plundering your mouth, delivering a wicked pinch to your hip at the same time. He took full advantage of your gasp to deepen the kiss even further. 

Without any clear thought or plan, you tightened your legs around his narrow hips and rolled, forcing him to the mattress while you straddled him from above. Your hands moved back down to his cock, teasing the head of it against the throbbing point of your clit. 

Silco bared his chipped teeth up at you. “You’re killing me, lovely.” 

“Can’t- mmmm… Can’t help it,” you babbled. “Feel so good…”

You bucked mindlessly on top of him until both of you were thoroughly slicked up and aching, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from the sensation long enough to line yourself up with him. 

That horrible, shining thread of tension broke for both of you at the same moment. Silco’s eyes narrowed and his fingers dug into your hips, lifting just as you planted your feet to do the same. 

Despite your best joint efforts, you weren’t properly aligned and the two of you slid against each other awkwardly. Silco growled while you let out what could only be termed a whine, but the frustration seemed to sharpen your concentration. The second time you tried to impale yourself on him, your breath caught at the feeling of his head notched against your entrance. 

Then you were lowering yourself and Silco was thrusting upward and he slid home with a teeth-rattling slam. If there was anyone else in The Last Drop, they would have heard your cry. It bounced off the high ceiling, echoing back to you in a cacophony of ecstasy that only drove you and Silco higher. 

If you had thought grinding against Silco felt wonderful, it was nothing compared to the tremendous depth of pleasure you felt at having him so deeply inside of you. All you could do was lift and lower, fucking yourself on him as Silco’s hands took some of your weight and tried to speed your movements. 

The slap of flesh meeting flesh was loud in the room, almost drowning out the shaking breaths that you and Silco were panting. His thumb found your clit, drawing a quick circle before he pressed down against the sensitive nerve cluster. It made you tighten desperately around him and Silco swore vividly. 

Of course, that didn’t stop him from repeating the torment. 

“I’m going- going to-” Your voice was far beyond breathy. It was almost reedy with the effort it was taking to stave off your impending orgasm.

Silco groaned, loud and hoarse. “Been dreaming about the way you feel when you come around my cock. Come for me, darling. Show me everything I’ve been missing.”

As if he had some sort of direct line into your nerves, the muscles of your core started to flutter and spasm, constricting around him like you were going to collapse in on yourself. 

That was more true than you realized. If there was ever a person in your life who felt like a black hole, it was Silco. Mysterious and fascinating and utterly unknowable. It was a strange series of thoughts to have during an orgasm, but your mind was locked into it by that point. Silco was such an outsized presence in your life, and to think that he loved you… well, it was almost beyond what your mind could comprehend. 

Then your mind went fuzzy and you didn’t have to worry about comprehending anything anymore. All that was left was pleasure and heat and the feeling of Silco fucking upward into you with every bit of force he could muster. He buried himself deep as he came, spreading more heat through your core and dripping out to smear between you. 

When your shaking thighs refused to hold you up any longer, you collapsed forward and onto his chest. Silco held you there, arms tight around you as you both caught your breath, then rolled you gently to one side so he could curl himself against your back. 

“I cannot believe you exist,” he murmured, tracing a tickling line over your temple. “And the idea that you love me… it is impossible.” 

You smiled despite yourself. “I feel the same way about you loving me.” 

He kissed your fingertips, humming softly as he folded your hand into his. 

Eventually, the flood of hormones receded enough for you to think clearly. “Silco? What does this-? Do we-? What, exactly, does this change?” 

Silco chuckled softly, and you felt the warmth of it against the nape of your neck. “As much or little as you’d like, pet. The Haven will be under my protection, but I can be as subtle about it as you’d like. And there will be no Shimmer in the neighborhood.” 

You thought that over for a while. The idea of Silco having a hand in the Haven again made you a little uncomfortable, but more for appearance’s sake than any real concern. And the majority of people had already proven that their morals were performative - you were horrible and the Haven was worthless… until they needed something. 

In the end, you relaxed against Silco. “This city isn’t going to know what hit it.” 

Silco laughed - a genuine, happy sound totally unlike the sardonic smirks you usually saw from him. “Too true, my little philanthropist. You and I united will be a force unlike anything they’ve ever seen.”

“I have a few ideas on where to start,” you confided, eyelids drooping with weariness. 

“I do, as well,” Silco agreed. “In fact, I’ve already begun the preparations for our final push for freedom.” 

You hummed, nearly asleep already. Silco pressed a kiss to the curve of your shoulder and you stirred yourself back to wakefulness. “Hmm? You have a final push worked out?” 

“Of course.” Silco sounded affectionately amused, as if it was adorable that you thought he would do anything without planning it fully. “I’ve hired a scientist to work out the details. He tells me the final product will take a few years to develop, but we have the time. We can continue our improvements to Zaun until then.” 

You were fully awake by that point, frowning blankly at the far wall. “Wait…” With some effort, you wiggled around until you were facing Silco directly. “You’ve hired someone to work on… what? What is this product? Sounds like you already have some things set in stone.” 

“Not quite, darling,” Silco assured you. “Just putting some pieces in place. I’ll still need to work out the final plan. In fact, I would welcome your help with that.”

“Okay, but say I want some of the details now,” you pushed. “What product are you having developed?” 

He sighed, rolling back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. “Very well, since you are so interested… It is a compound, similar to Shimmer in some ways, but not addictive. Not in the slightest.” 

Your hum was distinctly skeptical. “But what does it do?” 

“It mimics the increased adrenaline and reduced pain reception of the user,” Silco explained. “The adrenaline allows the user to push their body past many natural limits. They will accomplish incredible things.” 

You tensed, fighting the urge to sit upright. “So it turns people into super soldiers. But what about after the effects have subsided? Are there negative health impacts? And even if it isn’t chemically addictive, people can become obsessed with feeling like they have that kind of power.”

“It isn’t addictive because the user rarely survives,” Silco said, finally looking at you once more. You flinched, and he cupped your cheek. “This is precisely why I wished to spare you the details. You have a the ideals of a dreamer, despite your willingness to fight for a good cause.” 

“You’re planning to have people take a drug that will probably kill them.” You shook your head slowly. “What cause could be worth that? Scaring Piltover?” 

“No, I have no use for frightening them,” Silco said, grimacing. “They are fearful enough already. My soldiers would be dispensed to fight off guards, infiltrate the city, and clear the way to the Piltover Council.” 

“And-” Your pulse was thundering so hard that your voice shook with it. “And when you get to the Council?” 

“I kill them all, of course.” 

You gaped at that, horrified by the casual ease of his answer. Silco seemed oblivious to your feelings, kissing and nipping along the sensitive skin of your throat. 

“Silco, you can’t do that,” you said, gently pushing him away.

He blinked at you, the beginnings of irritation growing on his face. “And why, precisely, can I not?” 

“Because you can’t take Piltover by force!” 

“No, I cannot,” Silco agreed, a sly smile growing on his face. “Not yet, at least. But the initial trials are more than promising.”

“This isn’t an option,” you argued. “You’ll do even more harm if you come in by attacking the Council and using drugged soldiers as your muscle.” 

A muscle ticced in Silco’s jaw, and you changed your tone to a logical one instead. “Think of it this way: if you take the city by force, you’ll hold it for a while. You’re clever and you have the ability to draw followers. But if you present yourself as a powerful enemy, the people will combine forces to fight  against you. They will always see you as an invader to repel. You’ll never manage to quell the resistance to Zaun.” 

“Have you already forgotten that I’ll have an army powered by one of the most potent substances ever developed in this city?” Silco asked archly. 

“You’ll have a single-use army,” you countered. “And as more and more of them sacrifice themselves for this war, you’ll have fewer and fewer supporters willing to fight for you.” 

“Then I’ll make it so they have no choice but to fight for me,” Silco bit out. 

You furrowed your brows, studying him more intensely than you had since you first met. There was nothing but resolve in his expression, and you knew without further questioning that you wouldn’t change his mind. He was going to destroy Piltover - and, in doing so, he would destroy any hope for the nation of Zaun. 

With a sigh, you tossed back the covers he had tucked over you and made to rise from the bed. 

Silco caught at your wrist, pinning it to the mattress. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m not going to convince you to change your plan, and you’re not going to convince me that it’s a good idea.” You smiled sadly at him. “It seems we’ve finally found something we cannot agree on.” 

You tugged a little harder at your wrist, but Silco held firm. “But you love me and I love you. You’ve admitted as much.” 

“I do love you,” you agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I can support you in this. Whatever concessions you were going to make for the Haven, consider them either paid for or unaccepted. I think it would be best if we don’t meet up again.”

The cool slither against your skin was followed by two distinct clicks. You turned slowly, both knowing and dreading what you would see when you did: Silco had handcuffed you to one of the rings embedded in his headboard. 

“Silco, take this off of me.” You managed to keep your voice even despite the panic rising in your chest. 

“No.” 

You couldn’t help but pull against the metal encircling your wrist. It did nothing but make you feel more trapped. “Silco!”

“No,” he snapped again, voice harsh enough to make you stop struggling momentarily. “I lost you once. I don't intend to be so careless as to allow it to happen a second time.” 

“Silco,” you pleaded, striving for a less confrontational tone. “This is insane. I can't just stay locked in your room.”

“We love each other,” he reminded you, buttoning his pants. “Everything else will work out in time.”

And then he left, slipping shirtless into his office. You tugged fruitlessly at the handcuffs and tried to keep your breathing steady.

---

Author's Note - They were SO CLOSE to a happy ending. But Silco will always be Silco and our dear reader just can't handle some of his more pragmatic plots.

We're in the final stretch now, friends! Only a few more chapters until the end of this story.

Thank you for reading! If I can ask a favor, I haven't had the chance to watch any of Arcane Season Two yet, so if you choose to review (thank you!), please try to avoid including any spoilers. I can tell from my tumblr notifications on this story that Silco must be in S2, but I'm trying not to know how much or in what capacity. I'll try to be caught up by the time I post the next chapter.

I'll see you soon!

[puffins-muffins]

Control - The Reunion

Pairing: Jax Teller (AU-ish) x FemaleLawyer!Reader

Word Count: 7,008

Summary: Years after leaving Charming, you’re drawn back into SAMCRO’s world as Opie calls on you for help. When you come face-to-face with Jax for the first time in a decade, the undeniable tension between you resurfaces, stirring old emotions you thought you’d let go of.

Warnings: 18+ only please, cursing, Jax being a cocky shit.

A/N: Y’ALL!! The support this little fic of mine has received over the past week has made my Charlie obsessed heart SO HAPPY! I appreciate each and every one of you. So here’s part 2. Also! Not a lawyer and am relying on Google for lawyery things. This is my first Jax/SOA AU-ish fic. This one’s going to be a slow burn, I hope you stick around. Feedback - likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated. Beta'd by just myself, all mistakes are my own. Please enjoy! 💜

Part 1 - The Beginning

It had been nearly a decade since you left Charming, distancing yourself from the chaos that once consumed your life. A career opportunity had pulled you back to California just over a year ago, far enough from the ghosts of your past but close enough to feel the danger of reopening old wounds. In that time, you’d built a reputation as one of the top defense attorneys at your firm, becoming known for your relentless drive and sharp instincts. The sacrifices—the people, the memories, the pain you walked away from had seemed worth it as you carefully crafted this new life. 

That afternoon, you were engrossed in case files, mentally preparing yourself for the courtroom. Your phone buzzed on your desk, and you glanced at the screen, noting the unfamiliar number with a familiar area code. Charming. 

You froze, heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, you answered, “Hello?”

There was a pause, a beat too long before you heard a voice that stirred old memories. “Hey… it’s Opie.”

His voice was unmistakable, carrying the weight of years and the unspoken bond you once shared with him and SAMCRO. You sat up straighter, your pulse quickening. You hadn’t heard from Opie in what felt like a lifetime, and yet, hearing him now, everything came rushing back—the long nights, the brotherhood, the laughter, and the pain.

“Opie,” you said, your voice softer, filled with uncertainty. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he replied, his tone thick with emotion. There was no small talk, no easing into it. “Look, uhh—I didn’t wanna bring this to you, but I didn’t know who else to call. It’s about Jax.”

You felt your chest tighten. Jax.

“He got arrested,” Opie continued. “Murder charges.”

The words landed like a punch, knocking the wind out of you. “Murder?” you echoed, barely believing it.

“It’s bullshit,” Opie rushed to explain. “The cops have had it out for him for years. You know how it is in Charming. They’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this, and now they’ve got it. But… we think it’s serious.”

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes for a moment to gather yourself. Jax. It had been years since you thought about him, really thought about him. But now, hearing that he was tangled in something like this, old emotions began to stir. You’d worked hard to bury those feelings, to keep your life separate from what you left behind.

 “Opie,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady, “why me? I’m not part of your world anymore.”

There was a silence on the other end, then he spoke, quieter now, more earnest. “Because we trust you. Jax… he needs someone who will fight for him. You’re the best. I’ve known you were back in California for a while now, just didn’t say anything—cause I respected why you left.  But the things you’ve done in court, we need someone like that. He needs someone like that. And to be honest, I—we, only trust you.”

You felt a pang in your chest, hearing the desperation in his voice, the weight of the trust they were placing in you. For a moment, you thought about hanging up, walking away would be the smart thing, but deep down, you knew you couldn’t ignore the pull of Jax Teller.

“I’ll look into it,” you said quietly, the words coming out before you could stop them. “But I’m not making any promises, Ope. This isn’t—”

“I get it,” Opie interrupted, his relief evident. “I get it. Just… thank you. I’ll send you the details.”

Hanging up, your mind raced. Jax was trouble, and he’d always been trouble. No one else in the world brought out your impulsive side the way he did. It was part of why you left, to escape the version of yourself that couldn’t say no to him. You’d always been careful, meticulous, and in control—except when he was involved.

Opie’s text pulled you from your thoughts. As you read over the sparse details he’d sent, that familiar instinct to defend kicked in. You ran a hand over your face, feeling the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. You had been strong enough to stay away before, but could you live with yourself if you didn’t at least try to help him now?

Finally, you let out a slow breath, the internal battle subsiding as resolve took over. You grabbed your phone again, the decision made.

“Liz,” you said, as your assistant answered. “I need you to get me everything you can on the Sons of Anarchy MC—contacts, history, whatever you can dig up. And find out where they’re holding Jackson Teller.”

The words were out, and there was no going back.

As you hung up, a familiar feeling settled in your chest. It was the same reckless rush you’d felt so many times before, the pull of something you knew you shouldn’t do but couldn’t resist. And no one, not even you, could ignore it when it came to Jax.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You walked into the San Joaquin precinct like you owned the place—every step deliberate, every movement dripping with confidence. Eyes followed you, whispers rippling in your wake, but you didn’t bother acknowledging the attention. You didn’t need to; your presence said enough.

Sheriff Trammel glanced up from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he processed the sight of you. First came curiosity, then something resembling shock. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t expect to see you around these parts. What brings you back? Visiting an old friend?”

There it was—the assumption, the lazy attempt to place you in a box marked the past. You almost smiled. Almost.

“I’m here to see my client,” you replied coolly, eyes sharp as they met his.

Trammel’s brow furrowed for a moment before he connected the dots. “Your client?” He blinked, caught off guard. And then it hit him, the change in his expression obvious. “Jackson Teller?”

“That’s right,” you confirmed, tone even but with a bite just underneath. “I’m his attorney.”

His smirk dropped, irritation replacing it as he straightened up, arms crossing over his chest. “Well, ain’t that a surprise,” he drawled, clearly trying to reassert control. “You do know what he’s been mixed up in, right?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “I know exactly what he’s involved in. What I don’t know is why he’s been stuck in an interrogation room for hours without at least a phone call.” Your voice was razor-sharp, no patience for his games. “If you need a refresher on how this works, Sheriff, I’ll be happy to provide one.”

Trammel’s jaw ticked, his attempt at authority slipping. “You don’t know how we do things around here,” he warned, voice dropping as if that was supposed to scare you.

“And you clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with,” you shot back, leaning in just enough. “You’ve got no grounds to hold him without due process. Now, unless you’re begging for a formal complaint and the inevitable walkout, I suggest you let me see my client. Now.”

A heavy silence followed, the tension between you palpable. Trammel stared at you, clearly weighing his options, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew you weren’t bluffing. With a tight-lipped sigh, he finally nodded to the nearest officer.

“Take her to Teller.”

As you followed the officer down the hall, the adrenaline that had been pushing you forward settled into a more focused determination. You had anticipated pushback, but this? They were dragging their feet, hoping to keep Jax trapped in a system designed to work against him. It only fueled your resolve.

When the door to the interrogation room finally opened, Jax was slouched at the table, looking more worn than you’d ever seen him—his face harder, the weight of his life etched into every line. But despite the exhaustion, that familiar glint of defiance still burned in his eyes. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, time seemed to stop. His eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face as if he wasn’t quite sure you were real.

“Jesus,” he muttered, sitting up straighter, his voice rougher than you remembered. “You?”

You stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind you, your eyes stayed locked on his. You saw the momentary relief there, quickly buried beneath a mix of surprise and confusion.

“Yeah, me,” you said, keeping your tone steady, even though being in the same room with him again after all these years aroused something deep inside you.

As Jax took you in, his gaze locked onto yours with a slow, deliberate intensity. He leaned back in his chair, his movements unhurried, as if savoring the moment. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, just enough to send a rush of heat through you. It was the same look that used to drive you wild, but there was something more now—an edge, an awareness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

His blue eyes raked over you, slow and searching, like he was taking in every change, every part of you that had evolved since you last stood this close. But underneath the layers of disbelief, there was something familiar—a hunger, a pull that had never truly disappeared. His gaze lingered, appreciating the woman you’d become, and for a moment, it felt like the air between you crackled with electricity.

"Never thought I’d see the day," he murmured, his voice low, rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes stayed locked on yours, the smirk deepening as he leaned forward just a fraction. "So, you’re back… for me."

His words oozed his signature swagger—seductive, teasing, but laced with an undercurrent of something darker. The way he looked at you now, like he could strip away every layer you'd built up over the years, made your pulse skip. There was a heat between you, undeniable, the tension from the past flickering back to life in an instant. Despite everything, despite the time and distance, Jax still had that maddening ability to make your heart race, stirring up emotions you’d long since tried to bury.

 You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let his attitude slide. “I’m here because Opie called,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended, trying to ignore the flutter of your chest. “This is business, Jax. So, the quicker you drop your cocky bullshit, the quicker I can figure out how to get you out of here.”

That damn smirk deepened, his head tilting in that familiar way, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes as if no time had passed. “Cocky, huh? You sure you’re not just remembering how much you used to—”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” you cut him off coldly, your voice like ice, laced with a warning. There was a flash in his eyes, the playful arrogance dimming slightly.

His eyes scanned your face like he was searching for cracks in your professional façade, trying to find the girl he once knew beneath the hardened version of yourself standing before him. 

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’re not special, Jax. You need a defense, and Opie called in a favor. That’s it.” 

Jax tilted his head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, that’s all it is. No way you missed me, right?” His lips curled into that signature smirk, the one that used to unravel you in ways you’d never admit. 

Your jaw tightened, refusing to give him an inch. “I didn’t miss the chaos or the danger. But I’m also not about to let your recklessness pull you under.” 

The smirk stayed, but his gaze darkened, his voice lowering a notch. “Recklessness, huh? Funny, I remember a time when you didn’t mind that part of me. Actually, you really kinda liked it.”  

He leaned in just enough to make your pulse quicken, eyes narrowing as they raked over you, searching for any crack in your armor. “Or maybe,” he said, voice low and taunting, “you’re just too scared to admit you’ve still got a soft spot for Charming…and for me.” 

Pausing, his gaze lingering on your lips for a breath too long. “Maybe you’re afraid you’re not over me.”

You slammed your notebook shut, the sound slicing through the thick tension. “I know what you’re trying to do.” You paused, struggling to suppress the old feelings he provoked within you, heat flushing your cheeks. The way his gaze lingered on your lips sent a shiver through you. He was pushing you, just like he did all those years ago.

 “This isn’t about feelings, Jax! It’s about saving your ass. If you’re too proud or too stupid to let me help, I can walk out that door right now and you can rot here. I promise you that I have better things to do with my time.” 

The room went silent. Jax studied you, the playful glint in his eyes finally fading, replaced by something closer to frustration, maybe even hurt. His cocky grin faltered, though his guard remained firmly in place. “Yeah? You’d walk out?” His voice was lower now, more serious, his disbelief still evident. “After all the shit we went through. Color me surprised.” 

You held his gaze, standing your ground. “You walked away from me first, Jax. Don’t forget that.” 

For the first time since you walked into the room, he didn’t have a snappy comeback. 

The tension hung between you, thick and unresolved, as the weight of the past settled in the silence. 

And as you stared at Jax, your mind wandered, taking in every detail of the man in front of you. He looked different now—older, more mature, but no less magnetic. In fact, the changes had only made him more striking in a raw, rugged way. The boyish charm that used to come so effortlessly was still there, buried beneath the exhaustion in his eyes. His blonde hair, slightly shorter now and slicked back, showed streaks of silver. The faint peppering of gray in his beard only added to the hardened edge that framed his jaw. He was still strong, still the same powerful presence, but there was a heaviness to him now, like the weight of his choices had settled deep into his bones.

Despite the roughness, despite everything the years had taken from him, Jax Teller was still undeniably attractive. The kind of man who could make your heart race with just a glance—the dangerous pull he’d always had, only now more potent. The way his blue eyes seemed to pierce through you, the way he carried himself, the confidence that bordered on arrogance, it was all there, all of it pulling at you in ways you didn’t want. 

But this wasn’t the Jax from those carefree days at the park or late nights at TM. The version of him who used to tease you relentlessly, making your pulse quicken, had been worn down by the life he chose. The violence, the betrayals, the loss… it was all written on his face. For a moment, your resolve wavered. The dangerous temptation to fall back into old patterns, to get too close again, tugged at you.

And then Jax broke the silence. “Yeah, but you actually left.”

That stopped you in your tracks. The accusation in his voice, the weight of it, hit hard, settling in the pit of your stomach. This version of Jax was ruthless. The room was heavy with silence, both of you staring at each other, years of unspoken hurt rising to the surface.

But you weren’t about to let him flip this on you.

“I left,” you repeated, the words sharp, “because there was nothing left for me. You made your choice, Jax. The club, the women… you chose that life over us. You knew it, and so did I.” Your voice hardened, fueled by years of buried frustration. “Don’t try to put this on me like I’m the one who abandoned you.”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes remained locked on yours. You could see the struggle in him, the way his jaw tightened, the way he fought back against what you were saying.

“So yeah,” you continued, your voice steady, “I left. I chose a life where I wouldn’t have to wonder if the next phone call I got would be someone telling me you were dead. You know, like my father.” 

The words landed hard, slicing through the air. You saw the flash of pain in Jax's eyes as he stiffened at the mention of your dad. And for a moment, neither of you said a word, but the truth had to be spoken—it was the reason you left, the reason you couldn’t stay in that life.

“I built something for myself. And now I’m here, trying to help you, despite all of that. So maybe it’s time you stopped acting like a shit and let me do what I came here to do.”

His eyes stayed on yours, but now they weren’t filled with that teasing cockiness anymore. There was something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

Finally, Jax let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He leaned back against the wall, breaking eye contact for the first time, the weight of your words settling over him.

“I guess I just never thought you’d actually go,” he muttered, voice quieter now, the defensiveness finally giving way to something more vulnerable.

For the briefest moment, you almost let the softness in his tone get to you, almost let it bring up the memories of the man you’d once loved so fiercely. But you couldn’t afford to go there. Not now.

You straightened your spine, shifting back into lawyer mode. “Well, I did. And now I’m back, for this. So, do you want my help or not?”

Jax glanced up at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a resigned nod, he finally dropped the bravado completely.

"Yeah, Pep” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help.” 

And just like that, the wall between you shifted. The weight of his words, and that damn nickname—it hit you in a way you hadn’t anticipated, like a suckerpunch to the gut, and a rush to your chest, stirring up memories you’d buried deep.

For a split second, the weight of everything between you seemed to vanish, replaced by a memory of a simpler time. You swallowed hard, fighting to stay steady, and nodded once, flipping your notebook open again, determined to stay in control. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could feel the weight of the eyes on both of you, the tension thick between the rows of onlookers. It wasn’t just another day in court; this was the opening move in a game of chess that would decide whether Jax would spend the next decades of his life behind bars.

He stood tall, his posture relaxed, but you could see the strain in his face, the way his jaw clenched tightly as the judge read over the charges. Murder. Conspiracy. And the bail—the Judge already threatening to keep him behind bars. It was a deliberate message, one meant to keep him locked up and out of the way. One you knew too well.

You glanced at Jax from the corner of your eye, noting how composed he seemed despite the gravity of the situation. But then again, that was him—always steady, even when the world was falling apart around him. Still, you caught the tension in the way his hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.

The DA wasted no time, framing Jax as the leader of a violent motorcycle gang, a man entrenched in crime, a threat to society, and someone with every reason to flee. It was the narrative they always spun, but it still landed heavily in the room.

The judge leaned forward, his gaze heavy with scrutiny. "Given the serious nature of the charges against you Mr. Teller," he began, his voice measured, "I am inclined not to grant bail."

A subtle ripple of murmurs moved through the room, but you didn’t flinch. You lived for this part—standing in the line of fire, fighting for your client. This was what you were born to do.

Clearing your throat, you stepped forward, your voice steady and sure. “Your Honor, I understand the gravity of the charges, but Mr. Teller is not a flight risk. He has deep ties to this community—his family, his responsibilities, and his roots are firmly planted in Charming. He operates a successful business that helps rehabilitate recently released inmates, providing them with support and job opportunities.

 “I’d also like to submit a character statement from former Chief Wayne Unser of the Charming PD, which corroborates Mr. Teller’s commitment to his community and the positive contributions he has made over the years. He has shown unwavering dedication, and there’s no reason to believe he would abandon those responsibilities now.”

As you approached the bench to hand the document to the judge, you could feel the tension in the room, but you weren’t finished.

“Furthermore, Your Honor,” you pressed on, “there is a glaring lack of concrete evidence provided by the prosecution at this time. What we have here is more of a narrative than a solid case. My client is being painted as guilty by association, rather than through any real proof. The due process he’s entitled to has already been compromised by rushed charges and incomplete evidence. Denying him bail under these circumstances would be fundamentally unjust.”

You could sense the weight of the room shifting, the prosecution casting quick, uneasy glances at their notes, preparing a rebuttal. But you weren’t going to let them get the last word. 

“All we’re asking for, Your Honor, is the opportunity for Mr. Teller to continue living his life while we prepare his defense. He’s not going anywhere, and the absence of substantive evidence speaks volumes.”

The judge sat back, contemplating your argument, and you braced yourself. His eyes flickered to Jax briefly before returning to you.

"Bail is set at $500,000," he finally declared, the gavel heavy in his hand. "And Mr. Teller will surrender his passport."

The decision came down like a hammer, the thud of it reverberating through you. You glanced over at Jax. His expression didn’t waver. No flinch, no sign of surprise, just a small nod, as if to say, ‘We knew this was coming.’ His eyes met yours, steady and calm, while the weight of the judge’s words hung in the air.

You swallowed hard, regaining your focus. There was no time to react, only to plan. Your mind was already turning over the next steps, fast and sure. You’d have to move quickly now.

And just like that, court was adjourned. The room erupted into murmurs as people filtered out. But you stayed put for a moment, watching as Jax was cuffed again, his wrists bound in front of him. He met your eyes briefly, a flicker of something passing between you. Trust? Maybe. Or maybe it was that same pull—the one that made it impossible to stay away, no matter how much you tried.

You exhaled slowly, gathering your things, the weight of what’s next pressing down on you like a storm brewing just on the horizon. There was so much left to prepare for, so much at stake.

As they led Jax away, he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod. You returned it, knowing that this was just the beginning. You would do what you came here to do—protect him, defend him, win this case. But as you watched him disappear into the hallway, the past, as always, lingered too close for comfort.

As the last of the courtroom's noise faded, you found Jax seated in the small holding area, his posture tense, arms resting on his knees. He glanced up as you approached, a flicker of frustration in his expression as he leaned back against the wall.

“They’re really putting you in a tough spot with that bail,” you said, your voice calm despite the frustration you felt.

“Half a mil,” Jax muttered, shaking his head, a bitter edge to his tone. “They want me to fucking rot in here.”

You shifted, standing a little closer. “Are you able to cover the 10%? Fifty grand?”

Jax gave a slow, skeptical shake of his head, running a hand over his beard. “That’s the problem… I don’t know if we can pull it all together in time. The club’s tapped from all the heat we’ve been under, and most of my assets are tied up in shit I can’t touch right now. I’ve got some, but I don’t know if it’s enough.”

You crossed your arms, thinking through the logistics, trying to calculate how quickly you could move things around. It wasn’t just about the money—it was about timing, resources, and connections. You looked at him, the weight of his doubt hanging in the air. He didn’t like feeling helpless, and you hated seeing him like this.

“I’ll call Opie,” you said after a moment, your voice steady, full of resolve. “We’ll figure something out.”

Jax met your gaze, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge how serious you were. “And if we can’t?” he asked, the vulnerability in his voice barely masked.

You didn’t blink. “We will,” you promised. “I’m not letting you sit in here any longer than you have to.”

He watched you for a long moment, his skepticism giving way to something that resembled trust, though he still seemed unconvinced. “Alright,” he said finally, though there was still a tension in his voice. “But if it doesn’t happen—”

“It will,” you interrupted, cutting off his doubt. “Let me handle it.”

Jax’s expression softened, though the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Just hang tight and I’ll have you out of here as soon as possible.” You reassured him.

He sighed, the weight of the situation still pressing down on him. “I hope you’re right.”

You gave him one last look, then turned to leave, as you stepped out of the holding area, the cold air of the hallway wrapped around you, you hit dial on Opie’s number. It only rang once before he picked up, his voice steady but laced with concern.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked, and you could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind.

“Opie, I need you to pull together whatever you can for Jax’s bail,” you said, urgency threading through your voice. “The judge set it at $500,000.”

“Shit.” Opie growled. “That’s a lot of cash on very short notice. We might be able to scrape together 30 or 35 at most, but—”

“Do what you can,” you said, trying to sound more encouraging than demanding. “I know it’s a lot, but please, Opie, just focus on getting the cash as quickly as possible. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. He knew all too well what getting involved in Jax’s life again could mean for you.

You inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of his words. “I know what I’m doing.” Your commitment unwavering.

He paused, and you could almost feel him weighing your words, knowing the bond you shared with Jax. “Alright. I’ll rally the guys and see what we can do.”

“Thanks, Ope,” you said, a faint hint of relief hanging off your voice. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

You hung up, your heart racing as you weighed your next steps. It felt insane, but the idea of Jax trapped in that cell was simply unacceptable.

You were ready to dip into your own savings if it meant securing his freedom—a leap of faith rooted in the conviction that he deserved a chance, despite everything that had happened between you.

With a surge of determination, you navigate your way through the courthouse, already brainstorming ways to cover the bail gap. You knew all too well how difficult it was to say no to Jax, to resist the magnetic pull he always had over you. His presence was like a drug, intoxicating and familiar, making it impossible to ignore the depths of your feelings for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky as you stood outside the county jail, leaning against your car, arms crossed. It had taken most of the day, but between Jax’s assets, the club’s contributions, a few favors, and your own money, you had gathered enough to post his bail. You handled everything from the legal side, and now, all that was left was to wait.

When the doors finally swung open, Jax emerged, free of his cuffs, his movements deliberate as he sauntered toward you. That familiar strut—the same one that used to drive you wild was still there, but it was different now. Worn by time.

You glanced up just as he stopped in front of you, hands sliding casually into his pockets. His smirk made a brief return, a shadow of the cocky kid you once knew. But his eyes... they carried something more broken now.

“This isn’t over, Jax,” you said before he had the chance to speak, your tone sharp, all business. “We’ve got a long way to go before trial, and I need you to cooperate. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice low, rough around the edges. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “I’m serious. I need everything from you—details, information, the truth—if we’re going to win this.”

Jax raised an eyebrow, that smirk lingering. “You think I’m holding out on you?”

“I think you’ve spent most of your life holding out on everyone.” you shot back, your voice cool, cutting through whatever charm he thought he was working. “I need full transparency, Jax.”

You were always so good at calling him on his bullshit. One of the very few people who even dared to.

For a moment, his expression shifted—just a flicker of something underneath the surface. The smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. He stepped back, crossing his arms as he leaned against the hood of your car, his eyes scanning you like he was trying to size you up all over again. Like he was testing the waters, seeing if the person standing in front of him was still the same woman who knew him better than most, or if time had changed that.

It was like the years between you hadn’t existed, like you were both right back where you started. Only now, the stakes were higher, the weight of everything unsaid and unresolved hovering between you.

The ride was quiet at first. The hum of the engine and the passing landscape were the only sounds filling the space between you and Jax. 

You kept your eyes on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, doing everything you could to ignore the tension that thickened the air inside the car.

Jax sat beside you, his gaze a palpable weight, even though he hadn’t said much since you pulled away from the jail. He’d offered a brief, low thank you, but that was the extent of it.

 Your mind raced with everything unspoken, years apart, and buried feelings neither of you dared to confront. The last time you’d been this close, everything had been different. Now, the proximity felt like teetering on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the drop. 

Jax shifted, clearing his throat as if to break the silence. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Bail me out.”

You kept your eyes locked on the road, your grip tightening around the steering wheel. “It’s my job.”

“Is it?” His tone was playful, but there was an underlying challenge in his words. “There’s no way my guys could scrape together 50k that fast. If you’re risking your own money, Pep—that doesn’t sound like just a job.”

He knew you too well, as if he could still read your thoughts. His words hung heavily in the air, the truth simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

You didn’t answer right away, focusing on the road ahead, trying to steady the swirl of emotions threatening to pull you under. He wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t about to admit that.

Instead, you took a breath, your voice measured. “I’m doing what needs to be done. That’s all.”

He glanced over at you, a small smirk playing on his lips, like he could see right through the wall you’d put up. “Sure,” he said, the knowing look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t buying it. “You always were good at getting what you wanted.”

You looked at him, the comment hanging between you like an unfinished sentence, laced with the weight of the past. Jax shifted in his seat, his gaze flickering over to you as the silence stretched. You could feel it—the weight of everything, the tension that always seemed to hang between you. It was almost suffocating. 

“You were impressive in there,” Jax said, breaking the silence once again. His voice was low and rough, but genuine. A smirk played on his lips, and it tugged at something inside you.

“You sound surprised,” you teased, a lightness creeping into your tone as you welcomed the distraction from the charged atmosphere in the car.

He chuckled, leaning back against the seat. “Nah, not surprised. Just… damn, you’ve changed.” His gaze roamed over you, like he was trying to reconcile the woman beside him with the girl he once knew.

Jax’s grin widened, clearly reflecting on your words in court. “I especially liked the part about how I rehabilitate former inmates at the garage.” His laughter echoed in the confined space.

 You let your smile shine through. “That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” A mischievous smirk playing on your lips, “I mean… being president of the Sons is kind of the same thing, don’t you think?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond before adding, “I’ve just perfected the art of storytelling.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. “Yeah? You make it sound almost convincing.”

“Well, I’m also really good at getting what I want,” you replied, relishing the lighthearted banter even as a familiar heat simmered beneath the surface.

He studied you, his gaze piercing, making you feel heavy, almost relaxed, underneath it. “But it’s more than that. You were always smart, always tough. Now… it’s like you’ve grown into it. Like you own it.”

There was an intensity in his voice that made your chest flutter, a recognition of everything you’d become in his absence. It wasn’t just admiration; it was respect—something deeper and more meaningful than it had ever been between you.

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “Thanks,” you said, keeping your voice steady, even as his words unraveled emotions you hadn’t confronted in years.

His gaze lingered on you, heavy and unyielding. “Guess I’ve been missing out,” he added, a smirk returning to his lips, though it felt softer this time, as if he was wrestling with his own realizations about you and the past.

You tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened, the way the years and distance didn’t seem to matter when you were this close to him. It was dangerous territory, this pull between you—familiar, yet different. Both of you had changed, but some things were harder to leave behind.

“Don’t get used to it,” you said with a small smile, still trying to keep the mood light. “I’m not always going to be the one bailing you out.”

Jax laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

The ride back to Charming always felt endless. The road stretched out before you, but all you could focus on was the man sitting beside you, the charged silence thick between you both. The air in the car felt heavy, buzzing with unspoken tension, making your mind wander in directions you didn’t want.

Desperate for a distraction, you reached for the radio, just as Jax did the same. Your hands collided, the sudden touch sending a jolt through you, electric and impossible to ignore. The contact was brief, but it was enough to send sparks skittering up your arm, your breath catching for just a second.

Jax froze too, his hand lingering over yours for just a moment longer than it should’ve, both of you caught in that split second of something undeniable. You didn’t move, and neither did he. The heat of his skin against yours, the brush of his fingers—it was like a shockwave, pulling you back into memories you’d been trying so hard to suppress.

You glanced over at him, finding him already watching you, his eyes dark, intense. The air between you humming with a vibrant, electric tension.

Neither of you said a word, but the silence spoke volumes. You pulled your hand away first, the moment breaking, but the charge still lingered in the air, leaving you both more unsettled than before.

You pulled into the familiar lot at TM, the sight of the place hitting you like a wave. It had been a long time since you’d been back, but the memories came rushing in all at once—the sound of engines revving, the smell of oil and metal, your dad’s laughter, Jax’s smile. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, and you struggled to keep your composure.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you tried to steady yourself. Anxiety twisted in your stomach, your mind flooding with the past.

Jax shifted beside you, breaking you from your thoughts. You turned to him, forcing yourself to focus, to stay present. There wasn’t time for nostalgia, not with everything ahead of you.

“You comin’ in?” he asked, his voice smooth. “The guys would love to see you.”

Your heart lurched at the thought. Walking through those doors, seeing faces you hadn’t seen in years—it was too much, too soon. You weren’t ready for that.

You shook your head, lips pressing into a thin line. “No, not this time,” you replied firmly, glancing toward the clubhouse. 

Jax seemed to understand, his eyes softening with a knowing look. He didn’t push.

As he reached for the door, you cleared your throat, keeping your voice even, though your pulse quickened with anxiety. “I’ve got a few cases to wrap up,” you said, glancing over at him. “But once that’s done, I’m all in. I’ll be back in a few weeks, and we’ll get to work. Until then, Liz will handle discovery and start gathering everything for your defense. You can trust her—she’s a better paralegal than I ever was.”

Jax didn’t break his gaze, the weight of it making your thoughts scatter. He gave a slow nod, his voice quiet but firm. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll be ready.”

You nodded in return, your mind racing, trying to stay focused on the work ahead rather than the tension simmering between you. This was just the beginning—a long, messy road loomed, and the past still lingered too close.

“Listen, Jax,” you said, your tone turning serious. “It’s important you stay out of trouble. You need to minimize your time with the club—no unnecessary risks, no run-ins with the cops. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

He tensed, his jaw tightening. “You’re telling me to stay away from my own club?” There was a sharp edge to his voice, a flash of something that made the air feel heavier.

You shot him a pointed look, not backing down. “I’m telling you to be smart,” you said, matching his intensity. “I’m trying to keep you out of prison. Help me do that. No stunts, no risks. You’ve got too much riding on this.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, the tension in his frame unmistakable, but after a beat, he nodded. “I’ll keep my head down.”

“Good.” You softened just slightly, letting some of the weight ease from your voice. “This is only the beginning, Jax. We’ve got a long way to go.”

For a moment, he hesitated, fingers lingering on the door handle before he spoke again. “I appreciate you doing this, Pep,” he said, his voice holding a depth that caught you off guard.

That god-damned nickname hitting you square in the gut. You swallowed hard, “Just stay out of trouble,” you reminded him, keeping your tone firm despite the way he was making you feel.

Jax gave you a nod, hesitating as though he had something more to say. But instead, he gave you that old, familiar wink and stepped out of the car. As he headed toward the clubhouse, you watched him, a knot forming in your chest that you couldn’t shake.

Alone again, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your thoughts spinning. The weight of everything left unsaid—it hung in the air long after he was gone.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Part 3 - The Attraction

[atticmichaelangelo]

Junko: How patriarchy, time, and perception influence ( female ) friendships:

Junko is without a doubt a rather polarising figure within the Nana fandom. While some are inclined to view her as the epitome of a terrible friend, others find that there are aspects of her character that are not completely unreasonable. Some even argue that she is fully justified in her actions, interpreting them as a weary response to Nana Komatsu (Hachi’s) dependent and at times childish behaviour. 

I personally find her to be an extremely intriguing case study on female friendships - it is rare to find a depiction of female friendships that deviates from the endlessly supportive, forgiving, and nurturing portrayals of female relationships. Often times women are not as forgiving and sweet to each other as is often idealised in popular media, with dynamics often being fraught with internalised misogyny, societal perceptions, past experiences, and unhealthy attachment - so it is refreshing to see such a realistic, unorthodox, and complex portrayal of relationships dynamics between women—an topic that is often underrepresented and undervalued, yet crucial in order for people of any age to reflect on their own friendships and the factors that shape their beliefs and behaviours within them.

Firstly, I think that there is no point in disputing that Junko, in her own, often unconventional way, cares about Hachi. Throughout the early episodes and chapters of Nana, Junko frequently steps in to protect and comfort Hachi when she thinks the situation calls for it. This can be seen when she immediately leaps into action when Hachi breaks down in tears, drunk and distraught over memories of Asano in Episode 2, calming her down. This concern is seen again when Junko berates Shoji for hurting Hachi’s feelings and leaving Hachi alone in an unfamiliar place before rushing out to go find her. When Junko learns that Hachi plans to move in with Nana Osaki, who was practically a stranger at the time, she tries to convince (scare) Hachi into reconsidering the decision, concerned with how Hachi would manage and what kind of person Nana would turn out to be. Accepting defeat when Hachi stayed steadfast in her decision, she challenged (Hachi’s words) Yasu, trying to support Hachi by passive aggressively asserting Hachi’s right to the apartment when Hachi failed to do so to her standards.

Infantilisation and stifling growth

However, Junko’s protectiveness often crosses the line into infantilisation, an action which is a mixture of both care for Hachi and an unconscious subscription to societal perceptions of ‘femininity’, which ends up doing more harm than good.

Ai Yazawa makes a point of emphasising that Junko has known Hachi for a long time - she is familiar with her romantic struggles and emotionally dependent tendencies. But Yazawa also shows us from the start as well that Junko is immalleable. She is a character that does not bend to displays of emotion or whims - a foil to Hachi’s very passionate and dreamy personality. It becomes apparent from their interactions that Junko, after having been around Hachi a long time, internalised how Hachi behaves and acts to the point where she sees these traits as innate to Hachi as opposed to behaviours that have developed and formed over time. This strongly held perception of Hachi becomes a problem, as instead of encouraging growth ( which is what every healthy friendship accepts and promotes), Junko reinforces these observed traits, often treating Hachi as if she were a younger sibling or even a child. She seems “relieved” when someone else is there to “take care” of Hachi and even makes decisions on her behalf, such as revealing Hachi’s crush on Shoji despite Hachi making a conscious decision to not be romantically involved in anyone, assuming that Hachi does not have the scope to actually achieve the emotional goals she sets for herself.  

This dynamic consequently stifles and hinders Hachi’s ability to grow as an independent person throughout the anime, as Junko continues to see her through the lens of their shared past rather than as a peer. Even when Junko chastises Hachi for her lack of independence, she paradoxically expresses relief when someone else can ‘step in’ to care for her. This cycle of infantilisation keeps Hachi trapped in a dependent role within her friendships, and Junko’s inability to adjust her perception only reinforces these traits in Hachi. How people around you perceive and treat you influence how you subconsciously view yourself, and in Hachi’s case, she would see herself through Junko’s eyes as exasperating and hopelessly dependent. While Junko could very well believe her treatment stems from a deep and intimate understanding of Hachi, she in fact implies, most likely unintentionally, that Hachi is not capable of better. Junko's habit of infantilising Hachi repeatedly yet chastising her for the very thing Junko validates puts her in an endless pattern of being enabled, but not giving the genuine support when she does attempt to break the cycle. 

Internalised misogyny and and complicity to the status quo

At the root of Junko’s behaviour there is a subtle form of internalised misogyny that permeates throughout her interactions with Hachi. Hachi’s personality is characterised by dreaminess, emotionality, and dependence, and aligns with traditionally "feminine" traits that patriarchal societies often devalue. She is romantic, frivolous and dependent, and Junko, in contrast, is portrayed to be and see herself as more pragmatic and career-oriented, which she is shown to be aware of and even proud of in the anime and manga. She firmly corrects Hachi when Hachi hopes she will give up on her dreams of art school in Tokyo, and pursues her passions and career with dedication throughout the anime. Her more modern lifestyle ( living unmarried with her boyfriend and striving for her dream career) contrast heavily with her more conservative mindset with gender - through interactions between Hachi and Junko, we can see that she seems to have adopted a more ‘masculine’ role between the two of them, acting as the voice of reason and logic, traits which are stereotypically associated with masculinity ( haha). You can see that this patriarchal compartmentalisation of personality traits is something that Junko had internalised growing up through her interactions with Hachi, perceiving Hachi as hopeless and in need due to her personality, when in actuality we find out later that Hachi is perfectly capable of making decisions herself, and managing difficulty by herself (with more resilience that others can muster). While she surely does not always make the best options, she is able to adapt and persevere - not exactly the actions of a hopelessly dependent person.

This is a greatly nuanced decision on Yazawa’s front, as she perfectly depicts how growing up in a patriarchal society does not only influence male and female relations, but all - due to Junko growing up in a patriarchal society where women with ‘feminine’ traits are simultaneously taken care of and condescended, she too mimics and appropriates such beliefs and actions. The status quo in such societies ( like Japan in the time the manga is set)  are rigidly upheld yet at the same time result in the mocking and contempt of women who adhere to or fit the mould shaped and maintained by the same people who patronise them - and often times women are complicit in upholding harmful patriarchal ideals.  I think this is a refreshing (and depressingly realistic) depiction of relationships between women, as it perfectly captures the delicate and painful cognitive dissonance between caring for someone and not doing what is in their best interest due to internalised misogyny. 

A large aspect of internalised misogyny is putting male approval and attention on a pedestal, and Junko depicts such influences as well when she compares her love life to Hachi’s. She flaunts her alleged ability to form platonic male friendships without becoming romantically involved, ironically right before quickly entering into a relationship with Kyosuke. Junko then feels the need to justify her own quick decision of sleeping with and getting with Kyosuke to Hachi, showing a unconscious adherence to the notion that as a woman, getting with or attached to a relatively unknown man simply because of a desire to is a disdainful trait, and one that Junko makes a conscious effort to differentiate herself from - and not for Hachi. Hachi did not judge or even understand why Junko made such a fuss explaining; Junko’s attempts were more a form of self reassurance that she is not like the ‘others’ who are deemed undesirable and whorish ( a belief she holds due to her close interaction with patriarchy growing up). Junko is in fact not so different from Hachi, from what we can see from her actions in the anime and manga. We are told by her she does not attach herself romantically to men quickly, yet in the first instance possible we see otherwise. We see her look down on Hachi’s air-headed desire for a stereotypical, domestic relationship with a reliable man, while staying with Kyosuke throughout all the anime and manga, using him as a mode of support and guidance as well as a romantic and seemingly life partner. Her contempt of Hachi at times seems to be a reflection of her own insecurities with the aspects of her personality that do not fit the mould she wants - the aspects of her personality she was raised to see as less valuable and worthy and therefore grew up and internalised.

Junko’s internalised misogyny is also apparent in her loyalty to the men in her life, particularly in her defence of Shoji after he cheats on Hachi. Instead of holding Shoji accountable, Junko places the blame on Hachi, telling her that it was her fault for being too dependent, too self absorbed - too absent ( the very traits she was telling Hachi to adopt). This reaction reflects Junko’s struggle to justify her friendship with Shoji through her own internalised belief that women are responsible for men’s behaviour ( a common belief in patriarchal societies to take accountability away from men, instead vindicating and blaming the women involved). This scene serves to reveal Junko’s desire to preserve her own relationships and avoid conflict with male peers - by justifying Shoji’s actions, she maintains the comfort and security of her social circle, which includes her boyfriend Kyosuke, who is also Shoji’s best friend ( again rather similar to Hachi and her want of companionship) - she puts her male centred relationships on a pedestal at the expense of her female friendships and Hachi’s wellbeing.

Junko’s character serves as a window into the nuanced ways internalised misogyny, perception, and shared history can influence female friendships. Her dynamic with Hachi is shaped by her rigid perception of Hachi’s weaknesses and her own internalised biases about what traits are "acceptable" in women. While Junko is portrayed as a capable, independent woman—someone Hachi and other women can in some ways even looks up to—her patronising attitude ultimately undermines the potential of their relationship. Junko’s failure to see Hachi as an evolving, autonomous person perpetuates a cycle of dependence, preventing both women from growing as individuals and as friends, with Junko feeling equally responsible and burdened by Hachi but not allowing the relationship to develop beyond how it was in the past.

By portraying Junko, one of Hachi’s closest friends, as such a complex, multidimensional character, Ai Yazawa offers a compelling critique of the ways in which societal norms and internalised beliefs can distort relationships between women, and bring attention to topic that is often neglected yet experienced and lived by women universally. Junko’s story illustrates that it is not only overt sexism that influences women’s lives but also the more subtle, internalised forms of misogyny that shape how women perceive themselves and each other, and the pitfalls of relationships that remain stagnant in the past instead of allowing both parties to grow and flourish. 

[silverryuan]

TWST with Amane Ubuyashiki reader

Amane Ubuyashiki is a supporting character in Demon Slayer. She is the wife and caretaker of Kagaya Ubuyashiki, and the mother of Hinaki, Nichika, Kiriya, Kuina, and Kanata Ubuyashiki. She helped her husband make plans on how to destroy Muzan Kibutsuji and aided him when Kagaya's physical state weakened.

• I'm just gonna rearrange their background for a bit. Their age here is when they're old enough to be chosen to marry Kagaya but was taken to the NRC first. Their age here is 17. I will also be changing their name from Ubuyashiki to Himorogi, which is Amane's maiden name.

• So basically, you already assumed that you were kidnapped by a demon and hid you inside a coffin to snack on later. You became puzzled when you felt the unfamiliar fabric of the ceremonial robe instead of your kimono. When you meet Grim, you didn't panic easily since he doesn't seem to be an Upper Moon. Grim was so dumbfounded when you calmly asked him why you should strip...

Grim: "Fnyagh?! Why are you awake?! W-whatever, just gimme your robe!"

Amane: "..."

Grim: "Hey! Did ya hear me?! I said, gimme your-"

Amane: "May I ask for what reason should I give you my clothing?"

Grim: "That's 'cause I'm The Great Grim! The sorcerer extraordinaire! So hand over your robe!"

Amane: "...And if I refuse?"

Grim: "Ya get burned by me!"

Amane: "...I apologize but no."

• Grim was getting irritated with how calm you are, almost as if you're treating him like a fly. Although... He couldn't help but sense the cautiousness of your tone. Him staring at your eyes felt like staring into the void yet there's beauty with your appearance.

• You walked passed him. He doesn't seem like a powerful demon. You have more important things to do... return to your home and marry the Ubuyashiki son. Grim, albeit a bit intimidated, could not stand you simply ignoring him. He pursued you, you ran.

• You avoided the demon wearing a crow mask while hiding from Grim. You explored the hallways until you memorized it's interior. You see a giant door and opened it to see... People on broomsticks?

• ....

• You don't understand.

• What is happening? Are they even human? How can they do that? And why are you in a building? As you thought of an answer for your questions for the sake of your sanity, Grim caught up to you...

Grim: "...*Pant*... Hey! You...*pant*... Ya think you can escape from my nose!"

Amane: "...."

Grim: "Fnyaagh... Hey! Enough with you ignoring me and face your-"

Amane: "Where exactly am I?"

Grim: "What? The heck are you asking me for? This is--"

???????: "Night Raven College, of course!"

Grim: "Fnyagh! What is up with randos cutting me off!?"

Crowley: "I am not just a rando, you beast! I am Dire Crowley, Headmaster of said college! And you, new student, have caused the orientation ceremony quite a problem. Come along now, we don't have all night."

Amane: "Pardon, but I am not a student here."

Crowley: "Did you wake up inside a coffin?"

Amane: "... Yes. Did you perhaps did-"

Crowley: "Then you are a new student! Also, please tame your familiar a little more."

Grim: "Hey, I ain't no--MMPH!"

Amane: "Hush."

• Grim didn't get to correct the headmaster for you placed a hand on his mouth to shut him up so you could silently observe Crowley while he's blabbering nonsense all the way to the Ceremony. You take in all the information you can get from Crowley as you near the Hall of Mirrors. The magic part is what you didn't understand. Does he mean Blood Demon Art?

Crowley: "Perhaps the teleportation magic made you forget? Allow me to help you remember. You are a new student in this prestigious academy filled with young mages who have the chance to hone their magical skills even furthur! This academy is founded by the Great Seven themselves! Isn't that quite an honor?"

Amane: "....I see."

• His explanations don't help at the slightest. He didn't tell you the reason why you are wearing a robe, why you came here in the first place, or why he assumed this floating tanuki is your familiar.

• You finally reached a room with muffled voices. The headmaster swung the doors open and revealed a crowd dressed in same robes you are wearing. He instructed you to approach the mirror... But you refused.

Crowley: "Now then, I must have hold of your familiar while you face the Dark Mirror. Go on."

Amane: "...Excuse me, but I musn't."

Crowley: "The ceremony is nearing its end! It's a simple process, just go to the mirror and say your name!"

• Crowley shoved you in front of the mirror and a face appeared in the glass. You have a staredown with the mirror before you say your name.

Amane: "...Hinaki Nichika..."

Dark Mirror: "Hinaki Nichika... Thy soul is..."

• Honestly, you are not that foolish to give them your real name. You decided to go with a fake one instead. You are not letting these demons take control.

Dark Mirror: ".... I do not know."

Crowley: "WHAT?!"

[btsgotjams27]

things you don't know | jjk

summary: it’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. after moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

✨ title: things you don't know | one shot ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: M/17+ ✨ genre/au: angst | ex best friends!au | ✨ word count: 4.3k ✨ warnings: language, drinking, light kisses, miscommunication, reader jokes about unaliving her other best friend, mentions of throwing up ✨ prompt: “i thought i’d never see you again” ✨ a/n: heyoooo. so this is loosely based off a friendship i had in high school and in case you're wondering (irl) i haven't seen this man in over 17 years (oh gawd i'm old). anyway, thank you to @shina913 for being my beta.

✨ mini-series masterlist ✨

You were a fool to believe nothing could tear you and your best friend apart. Just like in the movies you'd watch for hours, you realized you were not the main character; he was. You were only part of the supporting cast, the best friend–not the one he wanted. Someone else had been occupying his mind, his thoughts, and you guessed you weren't privy to know all of him.

You wondered if you became the villain in his story. Were you the other woman? How could you have known if he never told you? He was your best friend. The one you shared everything with–your hopes, dreams, and even the dumbest little details of your life.

And maybe you expected too much. Maybe you had built a world of sunshine and rainbows and believed no storms could ever weather through. Maybe you cared too much, thinking he felt the same.

But at long last, you had become the girl jealous of Josie–the person who took away your best friend.

The city you lived in had grown vastly the last time you were here. Multiple lanes were added to the highways, and fields of land were cleared out for new homes, shops, and restaurants to try. Though the only thing on your mind was not bumping into him.

His was the only face you didn't want to run into in a city that felt familiar and unfamiliar. It felt silly. You're a grown woman with a car and an apartment–had bills to pay, and running into one person shouldn't haunt you as it did.

You might have done some detective work, going through old high school friends lists on Facebook and Instagram, lurking to see if he would show up. But as you suspected, he didn't exist on social media, so your chances of seeing him increased in your weird little mind.

The old hangout places were on your no-go list. Remember, you're trying to avoid him. He has not been on your mind every waking second, minute and hour. You weren't wondering how he was doing or if he was okay. He didn't deserve to occupy your mind, take all your energy.

But if you were to bump into him, you had a monologue ready to tell him how he had fucked up your mind, spiked all your insecurities, and hoped he and his stupid little girlfriend lived unhappily ever after. He deserved that, at least.

"Did you see Lillie's Instagram post? The one where a bunch of them were out celebrating Josie's birthday?" Lana asked, sipping on her iced vanilla latte. Lana was another high school best friend who didn't stomp all over your heart.

And regarding Lillie's post, it was hard not to see it when everyone you knew was tagged. Some things never change, you guessed. The same circle of friends, the same drama, the same gossip, but then again, you were sitting with one of your oldest friends.

"Yeah, I saw it."

And you also noticed how Jungkook wasn't in any photos. After doing your detective research and scouring through the internet. He was a ghost, not even showing up in tagged photos. You were hoping to get a glimpse of him in the background, but you hadn't seen a picture of him in years, so you had no idea if he had grown into that big 'ol nose of his or if he had gotten those piercings and tattoos he's always wanted. There was no trace of this man, not even in Josie's pictures.

Last you heard, they were still together, and you always rolled your eyes hard, remembering what Jeon Jungkook did to you. Didn't even have the fucking balls to say it to your face, but in a letter instead.

You suspected it was all Josie's fault. Probably afraid you'd steal him away, or he'd prefer to hang out with you. And you understood, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, just a friend. Ex-best friend, that is. So you supposed any girl that did like Jungkook would be intimidated by your friendship.

"Have you seen Jungkook at all?"

Lana knew what went down–dropping you like a fly, like you didn't exist. She had teased you like a madwoman because you were crushing hard on his friend, Jimin, and somehow ended up befriending Jungkook.

"Nope," you said flatly.

"So, you know how we always talk about Jungkook being untraceable? I think I found him," she said, pulling out her phone.

Your jaw clenched before huffing out a breath. Lana liked to poke the bear when it came to Jungkook. You knew it wasn't intentional, and there was a part that held onto those painful memories because you weren't over what he did to you. Countless nights of questions and if you could've done anything to save your friendship. Wondering what you did wrong and why he picked Josie instead of you. You thought he had feelings and just didn’t want to act on it.

Lana slid the phone over, her two fingers zooming in on a brightened photo. "It's definitely Jungkook," she pointed to a figure in the background.

You narrowed your eyes as she moved the photo around. Your heart skipped a beat. You'd recognize that nose anywhere. It was him. He wasn't a ghost. There was actual evidence that he existed.

"I searched for more photos, but nothing else came up."

You chuckled. "Of course not. Jeon Jungkook doesn't exist on social media. It was never his thing anyway. It was always Josie who liked the attention."

"As a couple, they make no sense to me. What does he see in her anyway?" Lana pondered, sucking up the last of her latte.

Josie was popular and pretty and did every extracurricular activity known to man. Jungkook was quite the opposite: introverted, kept to himself, played games day and night, yet somehow they still ended up together.

"I don't know. Maybe she has a great personality or something," you answered.

She had everything and could’ve had anyone in the senior class, and something always bothered you about their relationship. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Lana could see your despair and decided to change the subject. "What are you doing tonight? Jimin is having a small party and was super excited when I told him you moved back."

You narrowed your eyes, your lips thinned. "What are we? In high school again?"

"Come on, babe. It'll be just like old times. I'll even pick you up. I know you hate driving."

It's only been a week since you've moved back. You didn't even know where all of your cute clothes were. "I have nothing to wear." It was the best excuse you could come up with at the moment.

"I got you. Don't worry about it!"

Fuck—you should've opted for a different excuse.

"I thought you said this was a small party," you said, wearing a dress that was barely covering your ass. You'd get Lana back for putting you in the tightest dress.

"Trust me, this is small." Lana hooked her arm with yours, dragging you to the kitchen, where Jimin poured several soju bottles and sodas into a pitcher. It was quite the concoction.

“How can he afford this place?” you whispered as you stared at the fancy marbled island and large commercial refrigerator.

Lana shrugged. “I don’t think he lives by himself. Probably has roommates or something.”

"Ladies! You're here!" Jimin squealed, setting down the soju bottle. He hugged Lana before greeting you warmly. "Oh—it's so good to see you!" He wrapped his arms around you, moving you from side to side, digging his chin into your shoulder.

"It's good to see you too, Jimin. You're, um, still quite the host." His parties were all the rage in high school, and now that you look back, you're unsure what you saw in Jimin. He was a good guy, a great dancer, but he partied too much for your taste. Maybe you were shallow and just liked him for his looks.

"I have a reputation to uphold." He wiggled his eyebrows, handing you a shot glass. "I call this little drink 'Soju Sunrise.'" He held his glass, waiting for you to clink it against his.

"Here goes nothing." The glasses clack together, and the mixed liquids go down your throat as smooth as silk. Surprisingly, the cocktail is rather tasty, and you hold out your glass for another round.

"Yes! That's my girl!"

After multiple rounds of Jimin's Soju Sunrise, your body loosened up along with your tongue, being quite the chatterbox to everyone hanging around. The alcohol coursing through your veins made catching up with old friends less dull. Though you wish you could've had a sign plastered to you stating your job, why you were back, and what you've been up to. It would've made your life simpler.

As you exited the bathroom, Lana immediately pulled you into an empty bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"What the fuck, Lana?"

"He's here!" she exclaimed out of breath.

"Who?" Confusion sets on your face.

“He-who-must-not-be-named!”

"Voldemort?" You raised a brow, pouting your lips together.

She struck your head. You scowled, rubbing the spot. Still confused, you think back to the crowded room.

A lightbulb finally goes off. You blame the Soju Sunrise for making you an airhead. "You've got to be kidding me."

"She's here too."

Oh, how you'd rather be clawing your eyes out right now. It would hurt less than facing Jungkook and Josie after all these years.

You had your little monologue prepared and ready to go, but you didn't think you'd have to recite it. Did you even remember what you wanted to say?

You looked around the room and sprinted when you saw a window. Your hands fumbled with the lock, but it was too hard to open.

"What are you doing?" Lana asked, her eyebrows knitted together, watching you struggle.

"I'm gonna climb out the window." It was the only sensible thing to do.

"You're so fucking dramatic."

"It's the only way to avoid them."

Lana grabbed your arms and made you look at her. "You are a grown-ass woman. Put on your big girl panties and walk out that door with your head held high."

"But I don't wanna," you pout. "And I'm wearing granny panties." You lowered your head, staring at your dress, picturing the blush-colored panties with a little bow on the front.

"Granny panties with this dress?"

"What? I couldn't find other ones and I like full coverage." Curse you for not unpacking like you should've been doing.

"Would've been better if you went commando."

"Lana! I have some dignity."

"Do you, though? You won't even leave this room and face the one person who broke your heart."

"Thanks, Lana," you said flatly.

"You're welcome!" she smiled, shaking your body. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You rolled your eyes, staring blankly at her. She scanned you from head to toe, then back up to your chest. "Sweetie, we gotta make sure your tits are stunning." She dragged down the top of the dress, ensuring the swells of your breasts were peeking through.

"Lana, I'm not trying to seduce the guy." Okay—maybe you developed a crush on him, but it's not like you were going to make a move, he had a girlfriend for fuck’s sake.

"Yeah, who cares? We're trying to make Josie jealous."

"This is so high school," you comment, digging through your purse for your lipstick.

"Your point is?" Lana blinked.

You huffed. Okay—fine. If this were the only time you'd see Jeon Jungkook and Kim Josie, then fuck it. You could pretend everything was great for five minutes. Your hand went underneath your dress, tugging off your granny panties and tossing them on the ground.

"Holy shit—going commando too?" Lana squealed and clapped excitedly.

Hiking your dress up just a smidge, you were ready to smile and lie through whatever this dreaded conversation would bring up, probably old feelings of hurt and regret.

You hooked your arm through Lana's, with your shoulders back and head held high. This was it. After all this time, you would face the son-of-a-bitch who broke your heart and the cruel witch who took him away.

You had class—at least, you hoped you did. So, you'd play it cool, be calm and collected. Pretend like you had your shit together.

That is until you turned the corner and immediately spotted them snuggled up in the corner. Josie looked like a lovesick puppy all over him. Jungkook, not so much.

You clutched Lana's arm tighter and came to a halt. You repeated your short monologue in your brain from the bedroom to the living room, but it was as if your mind had wiped everything and your brain's connectors were short-circuiting.

Your eyes glistened as you watched the two. Josie sat on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him. Your lower lip quivered, and your stomach sank. You weren't sure if you needed to hurl because of them or because of the soju. Perhaps both.

Jungkook pulled away from her grasp, seemingly annoyed by her show of affection. As soon as he turned away from her, his eyes landed on you.

You flashed a small smile and a wave of your hand. Who knew seeing Jungkook would make you feel the complete opposite of the narrative you had created? In your head, he was a heartless best friend who left you for a wicked witch, but here he was in the flesh and was just that big-nosed, doe-eyed boy whom you shared everything with. You missed him so much and wanted to catch up on life like no time had passed.

Lana turned to you. "Hey, what happened to the bad bitch persona? Aren't you gonna tell him off?"

"I'm so stupid, Lana. I can't do this." So much anger had been building up within the last seven years, but underneath that anger was just a girl who was heartbroken.

Lana nudged you in the ribs. You two watched as he pushed Josie off his lap, causing her to frown. You attempted to let go, but she pulled you in as Jungkook beelined toward you.

"Oh, my god! Jeon Jungkook in the flesh?" Lana said in a dramatic tone. "You do exist! I can't believe it. Well, I'm going to find myself another drink! Have fun catching up with your bestie!" She punched Jungkook's shoulder hard, and he scowled and flinched, massaging the spot.

You pressed your lips together, unsure what to say to him. It's been seven years since you last saw him. Once you graduated from high school, you were out of each other's hair. You were off to college a few hours away, and he stayed in town to attend a local university.

Jungkook cut off all forms of communication. It was like your friendship ceased to exist, which hurt you the most. The last thing you received from him was a measly little letter explaining that he was with Josie and that she didn't want you coming in between their relationship.

You couldn't understand why Jungkook couldn't just talk to you. Josie was never mentioned in conversations, nor did you see him with her, so it felt out of left field. If Jungkook told you he liked someone, you'd never stand in the way of his happiness. You thought he knew you better than that, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe you didn't know each other at all.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Jungkook said, the corners of his mouth curving into a warm smile.

You only paid attention to the glow-up Jungkook had. He did get the lip piercings he wanted, along with the tattoos. You could see them peeking through underneath his gray hoodie hanging off his shoulder. The white tank top defined his taut chest, letting you know he liked to work out. His damp hair curled in all the right places against the nape of his neck and his forehead. The silver chain adorning his neck looked pretty enough to tug on.

"You look great, by the way," Jungkook added, breaking you out of your daze.

"Oh, thanks. So do you." You manage to squeak out finally; then you remember how provocative you looked in your dress compared to sweet, innocent, looking Josie in her pink floral sundress, who was making their way toward you.

"Jungkook, can we please get a drink?" Josie whined, giving you the once over before latching onto Jungkook like the leech she was.

"You remember—"

Josie interrupted, "Yeah–don't remind me. Can we go?"

Josie stormed off toward the kitchen, leaving you and Jungkook behind. Did he have any say in their relationship, or did she tug him around like a puppy on a short leash?

You're stunned but not surprised by her remark. Once a bitch, always a bitch.

Turning your attention back to him, you realize you have nothing to say. The scars from this friendship were carved deeply into your heart; not even the monologue you rehearsed could dissipate the pain he caused.

"I—I gotta go," you said, taking off toward the bedroom because you couldn't fucking leave your underwear on a random stranger's floor. You had to save whatever dignity you had left.

"Wait—" He tried to grab your attention and followed you, walking through the hallway toward a room. He watched you go from one end of the room to the other, searching for something. "What are you doing in my room?"

You straighten your posture, slowly turning to him. "This is your room?"

"Yeah, Jimin and I share this place along with another friend.”

Oh, now you were going to fucking kill Lana. She knew. She must have! That's why she wanted to bring you here. And out of all the rooms, you had to pick Jeon Jungkook’s to leave your underwear in?

"Great," you said in exasperation. You turned back around in search of your panties. "Where the fuck is it?" It could only be in so many places.

"Where's what?"

You got down on your hands and knees, tugging your dress down, looking underneath the bed for your granny panties. "Nothing," you grumbled. "Fuck it. Forget it." You stood, walking past Jungkook. He could have your underwear as a keepsake, you suppose.

"Hey—" He gripped your arm. "Come on. This is how you greet me after all this time?"

You scoffed, glaring at him. "You're fucking kidding me, right? You're lucky I'm even speaking to you. You don't even deserve that."

He lets go of your arm. "We kind of ended on a sour note, but it wasn't my fault."

He couldn't see it, but smoke was fuming from your ears, and you wished your death glare could burn through him and maybe even through Josie. How fucking dare he put all the blame on you? And for what exactly? You might add that you did nothing but be his friend, and he ghosted you like you meant nothing to him.

"So it's my fault?" You assumed he was placing the blame on you. "How is it my fault? Please enlighten me, Jungkook."

He quieted down, cowering his head.

"You showed up holding hands with Josie, then proceeded to not talk to me like a human being and instead wrote me a fucking letter like the coward you are. A letter, for fucks sake. You could've had the common decency to say it to my face."

You walked out of language class, and there they were, hand in hand as you idly watched from behind. And he didn’t even hand you the letter. He had stuffed it in your locker.

Your words took him aback. His recount of how everything went down was different from yours. "I'm sorry," he said. His eyes flicked to yours before looking away.

"Well, it's too fucking late for apologies."

Jungkook called out to you, and you didn't look back, storming away from him. You passed by Lana, telling her you were leaving and that you'd talk to her later.

You ran out the front door, stopping at the sidewalk's edge, remembering that Lana drove. "Fuck," you grumbled, pulling out your phone to grab an Uber.

You were stupid to think Jeon Jungkook wouldn't affect you after all these years. Maybe it's because you haven't dealt with feeling abandoned by him. Maybe you wished you did more for your friendship. Whatever the reason, you knew moving back wasn't a good idea because you’d have to deal with this.

"Hey!" Jungkook called out. You looked over your shoulder and continued walking. He ran in front of you to grab your attention. "Can you talk to me?" he asked, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Why don't you fucking write me a letter? Since you're so good at that," you mocked as you shuffled around him. He was a shitty writer who could barely pass Creative Writing without your help.

"That's not fair."

You scoffed, stopping in your tracks to turn back to him. "Run back to your little girlfriend. Don’t you have to get her approval first before talking to me?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

You tut. "Yeah–okay." That was hard to believe, considering she was all over him.

"She's not. We haven't been together for a while now," Jungkook explained.

"You looked pretty cozy earlier."

Jungkook looks at the ground, kicking around an invisible rock. "It's complicated."

"That's great, Jungkook, but I really don't want to hear about your relationship problems. Good luck with Josie and in life. You two deserve each other." You pulled out your phone to see if the Uber was arriving.

Crossing your arms, you walked back toward Jimin's place. You wish you pinned the pick-up location somewhere else, but you'd have to endure his presence longer.

Jungkook followed, giving you some space, stopping when you did. His eyes raked over you. His dimple appeared and disappeared as he licked his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"When you got your acceptance letter to college, and you decided you were leaving, you didn't bother to ask about what I thought," he said, hands still in his pocket, staring at the ground. Your eyes flickered to him before looking away. He softly chuckled, "I thought to myself, what would I do without my best friend? I had nothing going for me, didn't even know what I wanted to do—still don't know what I want to do. And as much as you make me out to be the bad guy in your story, there are a lot of things you don't know."

You turned away from him as your eyes began to well up. You didn't want to cry before him, rehashing things from so long ago. You let out a shaky breath, trying to contain your emotions.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked, using the back of your hand to wipe away the snot threatening to fall.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I would never want to keep you from something that made you happy," he admitted.

You were always open with each other, so you're unsure why this one thing made it seem like he couldn't be honest with you.

"Tell me one thing."

Jungkook hummed.

"Why didn't you tell me about Josie?" It was the one question that lingered since you received his letter.

His lips thinned. "Honestly?" You nodded. "It all happened so quickly. Jimin was throwing a party that night when you told me about going off to college, and I was in my head, overthinking everything. And Josie was there, being sweet and comforting me, and I don't know what came over me. I just kissed her to make myself feel better. Then, the next day at school, she took my hand and told everyone we were together."

"So, let me get this straight? I told you I'm going off to college. You get upset, kiss Josie because you were mad about me leaving, and then end up in a relationship with her?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous."

You turned to him, hitting him across the chest several times. He held his hands up to block you. "Because Jeon Jungkook, it is ridiculous! God–you're such—a—" you groaned. "Do you know how much you hurt me? We could've avoided all this if you had just talked to me. Life could've been different for us. You could've come with me, and then we could've been together."

"Together?" He stared at you with his starry brown eyes.

"Yes, you dummy! I liked you, if you couldn't tell. I was going to tell you, but then you and Josie happened, and well, you know how the rest of the story goes."

You closed your eyes and let out a long-awaited breath. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, getting all this out in the open. You weren't expecting Jungkook to do anything to make you feel better, but at least he could hear what you wanted to say after all these years.

Your uber pulled up and you opened the door, holding onto it as you looked at Jungkook. A glimpse of the boy you once knew still lingered in his eyes. If you could go back and do it all over again, you would've fought harder for him, fought for what the two of you had. It was too precious of a friendship to let go just like that. Unfortunately, life didn't work that way.

There were no forms of time travel or alternate dimensions where the two of you could've lived happily ever after, and there were only the choices you made here and now.

"Bye, Jungkook."

✨ read part two | read part three ✨