#and here's to hoping my au won't disappoint <3

[superfruitland]

here's a playlist i made for the au! decided to ominously drop it here before saturday to keep up the hype lol someone tell me that these match alt casey's vibed pls and thanks <3

it's currently only a few songs long, but i have so many songs i'll add after the first 4-ish parts are up. some songs match vibes for later chapters but this playlist can't spoil the story more than me in some of my mutuals' dms akshjdjkfjg

this is the thing that has kept me motivated to draw the au specifically for the past few weeks, through all my anxiety that made me want to scrap the whole thing at multiple points. more about that in the tags because i don't want to bother those who didn't ask <3

[pressureplus]

Hihii! Hope your all doing well

Could you please do human Sebastian Headcannons where it’s his or our birthday and writhed we get him something or we get him something?? My birthday was yesterday n I think this’ll be cute <3

Remember to take breaks <3

-💫

Hi! We're doing good, thank you for asking ❤️ (We get our breaks by taking turns making stuff, so don't worry too much about that)

It's a day late, but happy birthday, Anon! I hope it was a good one!

Birthday Wishes

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

Everything has to be perfect. As perfect as it can possibly be from a place like this.

He's made sure to send Y/N out on a supply run he's hoping is going to take quite a while, needing some extra time to prepare for something he's making out to be a big event.

As much as he hates sending his dumb little diver anywhere without either going with them or watching them, he's taken a great deal of caution in getting them supplied and assuring the halls were not active today... Sebastian has well enough ferryman tokens in stock to bribe and barter with should anything happen, worse case scenario.

Shaking his head, he attempts to get rid of those paranoid tendencies so he can finish hanging up the streamers. The bastard fish had been awfully mean to Y/N this morning trying to throw them off so they wouldn't catch any hints for the surprises he's planned. The experiment still is not the best with putting that guard down that's been built up so he can live down here, but he's been trying. Y/N has made him really want to try.

Part of him is still nervous about this, scared that once they get this gift and use it that they'll figure out that they don't want him. He's scared that they'll settle on the thought that they only wanted his company out of desperation, lingering on the idea a bit too long and decide to go find someone else. The anxiety has left his hands shaking a good portion of the morning.

But he has to trust them. They've earned that a few hundred times over for being patient with him for so long.

Sebastian has been preparing for this day for years, and in truth this was for himself at first. This was supposed to be for him. He worked for it, scavenged for it, fought, killed, and lived for it. He's been running this shop for so long it's all he knows anymore and it was always for this.

It wasn't until Y/N came along it stopped being for him and started being for the both of them.

There's even a cake, and though he's still a bit concerned they're not going to like his less than stellar icing designs, he knows it's your favorite flavor so he's sure you won't hate it.

When he decides he's made it up nice enough and that he's brave enough to greet you, he makes his way back to his shop and sits waiting, trying not to mull over his choices, hoping that it will go well.

It doesn't take long, maybe another half hour at most, for his favorite person to stroll back in.

"Sebby! I'm home!" Y/N greets him first, going to set the small crate of goods down near the doorway.

"Took you long enough. Hard run?" He teases, reaching one of those big clawed hands down to ruffle their hair. Smile a little wider and eyes a little brighter, he can't deny he's excited.

"No! It was actually super easy! I didn't find even an ounce of data, though..." Seeming disappointed, they almost go to sulk before he catches them.

"No, no, I have made well enough for the week." He reaches under the desk and pulls out a messily wrapped box.

"Plus, it's your birthday, isn't it?" Sebastian grins.

It takes Y/N a long beat of silence to perk up, eyes sparkling under the outdated LEDs.

"It is! You remembered my birthday?" They snatch the present up and instinctually shake it.

"Ah, don't get too happy about it, I saw it on the calendar." The fishy man tries to play it off for longer, really dragging it out.

"I'd say happy birthday, but could it really be happy in the Blacksite?" He pokes, the snide jab not seeming to bring Y/N down at all.

"It is with you!" They give him a beaming grin and start to open their box.

Nearly choking, Sebastian feels his face heat up a bit and his heart stops in his chest. How is he not supposed to treasure his Y/N? How could anyone think they were anything less than amazing?

"Well, it is a special day nonetheless. You only get this old once." He adjusts his comment to match their mood, still reminding himself to soften up for them.

He's decorated it in their favorite colors, colorful streamers matching all the little things that's going to make it feel like a home.

"You got me a plushy?! Where'd you find one!?" Y/N tugs the stuffed toy out of the box and squeezes it, very clearly resembling their favorite mythical creature.

"Would you believe it was luck?" He chuckles, lying to them point blank. He'd made it by hand, but doesn't want the tears or teasing from you that would come with admitting that.

"Thank you so much, Sebastian! You're the best!" Y/N only continues to shine in the dimly lit shop.

"I've got something else for you. It's in the back." He places a hand on their waist to usher the former prisoner along towards the grand finale.

"Is it really gonna beat the plushie?" They joke and he snickers.

"I'd certainly hope so, it's your party." He uses another of his massive hands to cover your eyes and lead you out past the room, guiding your step up on a completely unfamiliar stair.

"Woah, is this a new room?" Y/N looks confused.

"Yep. It's your room now. We're still going to be sharing, but it's brand new." He hesitates for another few seconds.

Closing his own eyes, he tries to stay calm. Ripping that metaphorical bandaid off, his hands come away from them to let Y/N look around.

And Y/N finds themself in a submarine.

"You... Your deal went through. . ." They look around at the painstaking way he's furnished and decorated it.

"Yep. I got us a way out." He closes the door behind him and Y/N whips around to look at him.

"We're leaving!? WE'RE LEAVING TODAY?!" They look shaken, but more excited than he thinks he's ever seen before in his life.

The fear melts away watching the way they go and cheer, tossing their new plush onto the bed at the back of the vessel and laughing, already chattering about showing him the places they wanna go. If nothing he does ever goes right again his whole life, he's done good doing this.

Sebastian pulls another mischievous look and holds out the keys, barely catching their severely divided attention with the shiny new keyring.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N."

[familyvideostevie]

come care about me

joel miller x reader a quiet evening at your house in Jackson with the man you call home | implied but unspecified age gap, domesticity, jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip [2.2k] a/n: my first attempt at joel! hope it's alright. read part 2 here! part 3 here! series masterlist here.

Jackson is quiet at this hour. The whole world is pretty quiet these days and sometimes it's more suffocating than peaceful. The white noise of life is so different -- you remember how car horns and humming power lines and the thrum of planes overhead used to remind you that you weren't alone. Now, most of the time, you're hoping you're alone. The snap of a twig or click of a safety or a muffled cough are signs of danger. But this town is safe. You know it, you feel it, but sometimes it catches up to you: how tiring it is to be on guard all the time. This is just how it is.

You hear little but your own footsteps as you head for home, hands tucked into your pockets and book wedged under your arm. The warmth of an evening spent at the town book club is still in your veins -- well, that and the finger of whiskey -- and it chases away your melancholy musings for the moment. Even better is the promise of what awaits you.

The porch light is on when you round the corner. You half expect Joel to be strumming away in his chair but there's no sign of him. Not unusual, not really, given that there's a chill in the air and Ellie was meant to come over for a movie night. Maybe she's still here and they're inside watching some shitty action flick on the couch. One or both of them always doze off before it's over. Regardless, you know he won't head to bed until you're home.

You ease open the door. The hallway smells like Ellie's favorite tea and slightly burnt bread but there's no splash of light from the TV, no clash of swords or quiet laughter.

It's dark in the house but that's not unusual either. "Took a few years to stop flicking light switches," Joel once told you. "Reckon it'll take a few more to get used to it again." He's the kind of man who would rather sit in the dark than chance disappointment.

"Joel?" you call. Your jacket goes on the hook next to his and you sit on the bench you dragged in last month for unlacing your boots, which will go next to his spare pair. He's undoubedlty still got his on, wherever he is. The tell-tale trail of belongings that often indicate the presence of a teenager is absent.

Your name echoes down the staircase followed by heavy, slightly uneven footsteps. Joel emerges into the hallway, guitar in hand. His hair is mussed like he's just thrown on the sweater he now wears and his expression softens at the sight of you, an ever-so-slight ease of his jaw and upturn of his mouth. It took you a while to learn how to spot it.

There are nights when you'll make a joke, tease him a little to try to get him to laugh. It's easier than it used to be but he likes to make you work for it. But tonight you're just glad to be home and you want to tell him so. He leans the guitar against the wall and beats you to it.

"Was gonna wait for you on the porch," he says. "Bit early to be back already." He's right. The after-discussion drinks will be going for at least another hour, thought the sun has been down for ages. You just shrug, fingers a little clumsy from the whiskey and the cold as you undo your laces.

"Wanted to come home," you say. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he crosses his arms, shoulder pressing into the wall above the guitar. Joel rarely takes, rarely reaches for what's in front of him even if he wants it, even if it's already his. It's a patience, a self discipline painfully constructed from years of survival and two rounds as a father mixed with the deep guilt he'll never allow himself to be rid of.

Point is, he'll wait for you to touch him. But that's okay. You've worked on your patience, too, and you've been doing this dance for a few years now. His arms will be open once you finish getting your damn shoes off.

"Ellie still here?" you ask. Joel's words are heavy with his drawl, heavier since being around Tommy, if Ellie is to be believed, his sentences clipped of unnecessary words and syllables. It seems that you've adopted some of his speech pattern. He'll never admit it but you think he likes it.

"You just missed her."

"I think she'd like this." You nudge the book on the bench beside you with your thigh. "I'll drop it by tomorrow. Movie night go good?"

Joel dips his chin, eyes on the floor. He shows you so much but there are some things he can't. The scabbing over wound between him and Ellie is often one of those things. "Was nice," he allows. "She n'Dina will be at dinner this weekend, she said."

You finally get your boots off and sigh, tossing them into the corner. The thud is loud enough to make you wince. "About time those girls graced us with their presence." You reach your arms above your head and stretch, joins popping and muscles sore from the sheer exertion of existing after the end of the world. Joel watches you.

"Alright," he says. He pushes off the wall with a groan. "C'mere."

It's the easiest thing in the world to walk into his embrace, socked feet soundless on the hardwood. You love Ellie like she's your own but her absence means that Joel will touch you more. He's a private man, reserved around people he knows and downright stony around those he doesn't even though the years in Jackson have softened him a great deal. He'll squeeze your hand, your shoulder, hover his palm on the small of your back as he moves around you, but that's it. He worries constantly that you'll wise up and realize he's too old, too boring, too mean, that people in town whisper the same behind your backs. Funny how in a time where you fight against fungus-powered flesh eaters, gossip still makes its rounds.

Still, you feel Joel's eyes on you in every room and you'd rather he worry about things like that than life and death beyond the walls. It's like your cells know he's near, a compass needle magnetized to the set of his shoulders and smell of wood glue and gunpowder. The rasp of his voice and his rough hands and the lines on his face. In the privacy of your home he's all yours.

"Hello," you say into his sweater. It's a new find, different from the threadbare button-ups and flannels he wears into the ground. His beard scratches against your skin and you sink into him, arms around his waist. He cradles the back of your head in one warm palm and holds you steady with the other on your back.

"Howdy," he mutters because he knows it'll make you laugh. It does. You match your inhales to his and any remaining tension from the day leaks out of both of you. "Do y'wanna to sit on the porch or go to bed? You hungry?"

His knuckles trace your spine as you shake your head. "Astrid had Seth make sandwiches. So, bed. Too cold to be on the porch."

"S'not that cold," he retorts. You roll your eyes and pull away from his embrace to look at him. His hair could do with a trim, the silver strands falling into his eyes. Your own hair has greys here and there by now, a byproduct of the times. Nearly everyone born Before has some. It's damn stressful to be alive. Joel often grumbles that you're too young for that kind of shit, not far enough from twenty for such visible signs of age.

"I've got gossip for you." That gets his eyebrows to raise.

"Do you now?" He releases you and grabs the guitar, gesturing for you to head upstairs first. "Should'a led with that."

Joel Miller is a lot of things, some of them better than others, but one of your favorites is that he's become a gossip. Maybe he was Before, too. Small-town life and safety and a teenager of his own and you have turned his eye back towards the business of other folks. Information gatherin', he calls it. Important to know what's going on.

But really he's just nosy. Good thing you are, too. It's basically the only reason you go to book club. If you actually wanted to talk about books you'd do it with the teenager living out back -- and you do -- since she's a bigger reader and miles smarter than anyone else in town.

The stairs creak like they always do. Joel has put away the laundry that you finished this morning and despite his inclination towards darkness, has left on the lamp in the bedroom. He sets the guitar back in its stand and sits in the armchair to unlace his boots, grunting a bit as he goes.

"Jesse's mother brought a new batch of whiskey for after the discussion. Caused some loose lips, I think. I hope she did it on purpose because it was worth it."

You eye the book on Joel's side of the bed. Something about...woodworking? Typical.

"Whiskey, huh?" he drawls from behind you. "Could smell it on your breath," he says. You look up and he startles you a bit by appearing in your space and tilting your chin up with two fingers. Joel presses his lips to yours firmly, tongue dipping into your exhale for just a moment before he pulls back. "Can taste it, too."

He's gone before you can lean into him. You sit down heavily on the bed. Whiskey aside, Joel's touch, his kiss, his attention always make you feel a little overwhelmed. And he knows it. You hadn't even heard him creep over to you.

"Asshole," you mutter.

"Say somethin'?" He's wandered to the closet to shuck off his jeans and sweater.

"Remember Scott?" you ask instead. "Short, got that scar across his face."

"I might be old but my memory is fine," he grumbles. "Patrolled with him last month."

"Well, he's been with Duy, that guy who works the gardens, for almost half a year, right? But according to Wendy, as of yesterday, Scott's not living in the house on Spring Street anymore. She saw him moving into a split level on Crescent."

Joel whistles through his teeth. You watch him slide into flannel pants, catch flashes of his tanned skin and your palms ache to touch him.

"You think it has to do with...what was his name? The other guy Scott's with sometimes? Phil? Peter?"

"Patrick. Yeah, that's what I thought too. Something must've been happening there." You tuck one leg under you on the bed. "What was that about a fine memory?"

He ignores you. "Never did like him much," he says. "He talks a lot." He reappears from the closet in his pants that belonged to some other man long dead, his chest bare despite the cool evening. He's a furnace, this man. You barely need layers to sleep in as the seasons change so long as he's next to you, all solid warmth and muscle. He tosses you the shirt you like to sleep in. It smells like what passes for detergent these days.

"You don't like anyone much," you tease as you unfurl your leg. It's not true, not really. Joel likes a few people a great deal and tolerates everyone else just fine. He's respected not only for being Maria's brother-in-law but for the way he can fix things, for his calm head on patrol. Children in town adore him and Ellie's friends used to revere him like a god, or so she tells you. You didn't know him before Jackson but you know enough about what happened twenty years ago, four years ago, and everything in between. You know that it made him hard but hollow. You know that that dear girl in the back shed brought him back to life and now that they're on the mend, you can see even more pieces of who he was.

You know that you've helped, too.

"I like you plenty," he says. He stands between your knees and frames your face with his hands. The callused pad of his thumb drags over your lower lip as you just stare at each other for a few moments. You press your palm to his stomach, nails sliding through the thatch of hair that leads down under the band of his pants. His abdomen contracts and his nostrils flare.

You give him a grin. "I like you plenty, too, Joel Miller." There isn't much more to it. He's probably your favorite person on this god-forsaken planet.

"Get outta these damn clothes," he grumbles around a small smile of his own. He tugs at the shirt in your hand.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him. "Oh, so we can f--"

Joel steps back and heads for the bathroom, leaving you behind with a dramatic sigh. "So we can go to sleep."

Laughter spills out of you as you head for the closet. "Whatever you say."

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

The end of the world isn't so bad.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here

[oddinary4bts]

Love is a Laserquest | choi san

☆summary: years after your break-up, Choi San comes to you for help. In an attempt to save his life, you escape to your uncle's cabin in the woods far from civilization. Will nostalgia and longing make you fall again, or is Choi San just spinning more lies to you?

☆pairing: gangster!Choi San x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: gangster au, exes au, angst, smut, a smidge of the one bed trope

☆warnings: guns/gun violence (mentioned), knifes/stabbing (mentioned), a bounty over San's head, death of a minor character (named Jungkook my bad), blood, injuries, stitches, probably some wrong medical terminology bc optometrists don't stitch up people lmao, a panic attack, cursing, pet names, explicit content: oral sex (female receiving) -> face riding, let me know if I forgot any!

☆word count: 16.5k

☆a/n: Here's my submission for Outlaw: The Project hosted by @ssaboala. It is coincidentally my first time posting about another group than bts, so I hope this won't disappoint! I really enjoyed writing it (even though it's really sad oop). Also my first time making a moodboard so hopefully it works haha

☆a/n pt2: thank you to @moonleeai for being my ever-so faithful beta reader, love you lots <3

☆☆☆☆☆

And do you still think love is a Laserquest? Or do you take it all more seriously? I’ve tried to ask you this in some daydreams that I’ve had But you’re always busy being make-believe

Love is a Laserquest – Arctic Monkeys

☆☆☆☆☆

The diner is silent, unoccupied. It always is on late weekday evenings, when most patrons have gone to bed, the city falling under a carpet of hushed silence only night can bring forth. It makes the diner feel like it’s straight out of a 70s movie, and it makes for the perfect study sessions too.

Night isn’t always soundless in your part of town. Hence why you’ve been trying to escape, pursuing an education that has been leaving you penniless, but with a bright future ahead. If you make it out of med school at a certain point, that is.

Tonight, you fear the peace that night usually entails has been ruined for you – there were gunshots earlier, close enough for you to see the police cars racing past as the law officers made it to probably yet another gang fight.

There’s been a gang war on your side of town. The diner has always been safe, a refuge for both sides of the war, where they aren’t allowed to fight. To carry in weapons and hatred. No, the moment they cross the threshold of the diner, the gangsters become one family, sharing struggles that only poverty can cause.

You wipe a table clean before walking back towards the counter. Your open laptop waits for you, and you quickly read the study guide you’ve made for yourself, the cardiovascular system and its pathologies forming a maze in your mind that you’ve yet to decode. Luckily enough, you still have a week before the bloc ends and you have to take the exam.

Plenty of time to cram everything about the heart in your thick little skull, you’d say.

Your lips move in time with what you’re reading, attention solely focused on the bright screen when a thump is heard right outside the door. It startles you, and you turn around to see the empty street out of the glass door.

It takes you about ten seconds to notice the dark form sitting on the ground. They’re leaning against the door, head lolling to the side. You assume it must be someone that’s ended unhoused, something that happens far too often where you live.

You’ve always been kind. When you were younger, you were told your kindness would be your demise. Yet you’ve never been able to be anything but kind, even though sometimes it might put you at risk. So you can’t resist but walk to the front door, trying to push it open.

It’s useless – the weight of the person is keeping it tightly shut, though they do straighten a little, as if coming to their senses. They turn, and the moment their profile comes into view you’re brought back eight years in the past. To a time when the world was still a beautiful place, void of violence and cruelty. To a smile so sweet it made flowers blossom on your heart, and to eyes so sharp you knew they had read your soul.

Choi San is sitting outside the door, and the caked blood on his cheek tells you enough – he’s injured. He pushes away from the door before slowly getting up. He clutches his side as he does it, yet when he turns back towards you and faces your horrified eyes, he still offers you a smirk.

You push the door open, thinking about the years between then and now. You had dated him for a few months that had felt like forever, until you had realized in what kind of business he was getting involved with. You had tried to convince him to flee before it was too late, and he kept promising that he would.

Only he never did, hiding lies with beautiful words that made your teenage self swoon, until your parents had realized and forced you to break up. It had been a nasty break-up, filled with hatred and words you didn’t mean yet had needed to say for him to leave.

You remember breaking his heart like it was yesterday.

“Choi San,” you greet him, and when he lets go of his side, you notice blood on his hand.

Something runs cold inside of you, even though he still sports a smirk on his lips.

He says your name, bowing his head. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Months, in fact. Because he does come to the diner sometimes. He usually ignores you, and so do you, so it feels strange to have him speak to you. To hear his voice as his words are addressed to you.

“What…” you trail off, glancing down at the ripped fabric of his black tank top.

He’s got a mean cut on his ribs, and it’s only then that you truly realize that he’s badly injured. Because there’s more – one of his biceps has been sliced open too, though blood is barely oozing out of it in small rivulets. The blood on his cheek is from where you assume he’s been punched with rings, and there’s already an underlying bruise under his eye.

“Got beaten up,” he states the obvious, and you immediately open the door wider to let him in.

He limps in, heading towards the nearest booth, where he plops down and lets out a pained grunt. You make sure no one is outside before shutting the door and locking it, flipping the hanging sign on it so it says closed in case a patron decides to show up.

You take a few steps towards San, hands shaking slightly at your side. Because that’s a grown man, bleeding out on the leather seat of the booth, and his eyes are shut though he looks in pain. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You haven’t yet started your residency, haven’t really gone from theory to practice… Yet you’re studying to be a doctor, are you not?

“Why are you here?” you ask, though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he says, wincing as one of his eyes opens. He tilts his head to look towards you. “Word around the block says…” he pauses, takes a deep breath before continuing, “that you’re studying to be a doctor”.

So you are right. He’s here because he needs your help, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Why…” You look for words, and it takes you a moment to realize that it doesn’t matter.

For all the history between you and him, Choi San doesn’t deserve to bleed out to death on a cheap leather seat in a forgotten diner on the dangerous side of town.

He has the decency to chuckle at the start of your question, which only makes him wince in pain once again.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and it’s a little stupid because clearly, he’s in no state to move.

He doesn’t question it, and you run to the kitchen to thoroughly wash your hands and grab the first aid kit. At night, no cooks stay around, and you usually only reheat food if needed, which doesn’t really happen. You haven’t had any client coming in at night in weeks… until San, that is. So no one is there to see what is going on, which you reckon is a relief. Because you have no idea what’s going on.

You return to the booth where San is waiting, patiently. He’s clearly wiped his hand on his face because there’s fresh blood on his forehead, and you almost balk at the sight of it.

“What have you done?” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

It seems he’s still in sync with you because he still hears. “Got involved with the wrong crowd.”

You put the first aid kit down on the table, ignoring his eyes when they flutter open, and he rests his gaze on you.

“I don’t know if I can help you,” you say as you unzip the kit and throw it open. You spare his side a quick glance. “This looks like you’re going to need stitches.”

He makes an effort of looking down at himself, though it mostly fails as he doesn’t raise his head from the seat. “Right.”

You grab everything you think you might need – alcohol swabs to clean his skin, fresh linen to bandage his side and arm, and stuff for his cheek too. He carefully observes you, with that piercing gaze of his that used to make you go crazy inside when you were young and impressionable.

You vaguely motion at him, and he cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask. “I can’t reach you if you’re lying back like this.”

His pink tongue darts to wet his lips, and he nods curtly. “Let me…” he trails off, resting a bloody hand on the table while he grabs at the back of the booth to push himself up. It has new blood appearing on his side, and you quickly move towards him, putting some linen against it.

As if it’s going to do anything. He clearly needs stitches, and you’ve got nothing with you to stitch him up.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly as he’s finally sitting. You just keep the linen on his side, eyes a little wide.

Your gazes connect inevitably, and time slows. You think about how he used to smile, how his eyes used to hold a softness you haven’t had the chance to see again since he’s walked out of your life.

Or rather, since you kicked him out of your life.

“I don’t think I can help,” you whisper, and his eyes flicker to your lips.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” he admits, shame turning his features into a mask of regret. “They… If they find me, I’m dead.”

Dread fills every ounce of your being. “San, what have you been doing?”

He looks away from your insistent gaze, scoffing slightly. “You don’t want to know.”

He isn’t wrong; you genuinely don’t want to know. Because he means nothing good, even with all the memories you share with him.

“Is it going to put me in danger?” you ask, as he still obstinately avoids your gaze.

He seems to freeze in front of you, as if you’ve pressed pause to your favourite show. To avoid the awkwardness, you busy yourself with grabbing one of his hands so he can hold the linen in place before you start washing the cut on his arm. It’s not deep, but you’re pretty sure it’ll still leave a mean scar, especially considering he can’t go to the hospital.

The thought has a drop of cold sweat roll along your spine. People want him dead. People want Choi San, the man you know as a young, scared teenager just trying to find a way to make his life better, dead. You remember the innocence in his smile – has he smiled at all in the years apart?

“I should go,” he says flatly. He moves to stand, but you hold him down, two hands firmly placed on his shoulders. It makes him wince, and you quickly release your grip.

“Don’t,” you tell him. “Let me at least patch you up.”

His eyes shut again as his head hangs low. “I am so sorry.”

You don’t even know who he is apologizing to, or why he is. All you know is that it causes your heart to clench in your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When you were younger, you believed San was your star-crossed lover. You believed your high school sweethearts romance would grow until you’d be old and grey and at the end of a very long road. You had dreamed of a future with him, the way only teenagers can dream – with no sense of reality. Because your reality had never been to end up by his side.

His choices had been proof enough of it.

You still remember the day you first kissed. Under an August meteor shower, with just the night sky as your witness. It had been hesitant, slow and soft, just like everything with San. And you had believed the lie, trusted it with every beat of your little heart, until your parents had found out the truth about him.

Until they had broken your heart, even before you had broken his.

If the stars had known then, what was going to happen to you and Choi San, would they still have shone through the night?

He lets out a pained sound as you gently dab at the cut on his bicep. You clean the skin around the wound in and of itself, and he watches you carefully, piercing gaze not missing how your face clouds with memories.

“How have you been doing?” he asks so softly you think his words are a gentle summer breeze on your features.

You can almost still smell the summer night air of that field where you had stargazed, where you’d always meet so long ago.

“I’ve been okay,” you answer, truthfully. Because even though you haven’t seen him, you have lived your life apart from him. Have evolved without him by your side. “Better than you, visibly.”

He didn’t expect the joke. It makes him snort, and then a soft smile grows on his lips, softening the edges of his hard features. “You haven’t changed.”

You have, and yet you haven’t. Like him, you think there’s a part of you that is still sixteen, and will forever be. A part of you that remained stuck in the moment when you watched him walk away in the rain, as if even the sky had to cry for his broken heart.

“Wish I could say the same about you,” you murmur, nostalgia a melancholic song in your words.

He chooses to remain silent, because the proof of how much he’s changed is sitting right in front of you, wounded and bleeding and hurt. The hurt is behind his eyes, in the shadows of the past that have also been obscuring your vision.

“Yeah,” he lets out, barely audible.

And then silence reigns between you, because as much as you once loved him, eight years have made you strangers. You don’t know anything about his life except the dirty, obvious darkness that surrounds him, and he doesn’t know anything except that you are studying to be a doctor…

Which leads you to wonder how does he know in the first place?

You ask him, as you’re wrapping the linen around his bicep to make a makeshift bandage. You’re proud of the result, though your fingers can’t resist but linger on the taut skin over his muscle, surprised at how soft it still is.

“I’ve heard you mention it,” he admits, as you take a step away to look at the material on the table, as if it’ll suddenly make stitches appear for you to put them in his skin. “One of the times I was here.”

“You never said hi,” you reproach him, unable to hide the ghost of a bite in your tone.

“Neither did you,” he points out, and he isn’t wrong.

All you can do is purse your lips as you finally decide to clean his skin. But for that, you have to rid him of his tank top, to make sure there’s no fabric in the wound. You look at him, cheeks somehow burning even though all you’re doing is taking care of a patient.

Though he’s not a patient, and you’re not in a hospital. You’re just a server at a dusty, old diner and he’s just your teenage lover, wounded by his dangerous actions.

“Should I grab scissors to remove your shirt?” you ask, though you’re speaking to yourself more than to him.

He still finds it in him to tease. “You want me out of my shirt?” he enquires, smirk gracing his lips again. “Say no more.”

He tries moving, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you warn. “You’ll make it bleed more.”

He purses his lips, because nodding. “Right.” He glances at the first aid kit, before his eyes trail to your face again. “You got scissors in that?”

There are. You grab them, before turning towards him. It feels strange: you’ve never undressed him before. You had always wanted to wait, back then, before you slept together. You believed you were too young, and San had always respected it.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” you tell him as you take a step closer to him.

He slightly leans back, furrowing his eyebrows. “What do you plan to do with those that might hurt?”

You roll your eyes, playfully, before taking the two other steps leading to right in front of his legs. You notice that they are slightly parted, allowing you to come closer, and you take a steadying breath before reaching between you, pulling at the fabric of his tank top.

“Stay still and you shouldn’t get hurt,” you whisper, ignoring the heaviness of his piercing gaze on you.

It burns right through you, and you have to tame the beats of your heart at the feeling of the warm skin of his shoulder against the back of your fingers as you bring your other hand forward, until you’ve started cutting his shirt.

It’s stuck to his side where blood has dried, and he winces but remains still and silent as you keep going, pulling on it a little harder to be able to cut. The moment stretches into infinity, because you can’t help but take your time. It reminds you of how you’d used to run your fingers on his back, under his shirt, when you napped in the field in the summertime. In an idyllic world where gangs and violence and war were mere inventions of the media, and not a reality that surrounded you.

You’d loved the field. The wildflowers, the open air, the way it was just you and him and a few lazy bumblebees as clouds lazily crossed the sky above. You were so young then, so innocent. Hands unstained from blood, from his blood.

Because as you cut, the hand touching his shirt stains with blood. You pale at the sight of it, but you keep going, pushing through until you’re done, gently pulling the fabric from his body until he’s sitting there, shirtless, with a long wound on his ribs.

You can’t help but notice his toned chest and the defined abs on his stomach. Though blood mars his skin, turning it into a piece of violence, Choi San is still beautiful. Beautiful in a dark, dangerous way that has you glance outside, making sure no one is looking.

But the streets are empty, void of life at this time of the night. At least, they mostly always are.

“You will need stitches,” you state again as if you both don’t know already.

“I can’t…”

An idea forms in your brain. It’s a stupid idea, and you don’t even know why it crosses your mind.

Your uncle has a hunting cabin far in the woods. He’s a nurse himself, and he’s always kept everything over there in case someone got injured and he had to stitch them up. You haven’t gone in forever, but you still remember the tall trees, the deep forest scent that reminds you of autumn and leaves and grey days spent reading by the fireplace.

You never went hunting, but you did accompany your father when he went, needing an escape from the city once in a while. An escape from a life that was slowly becoming too real.

Your uncle is currently halfway across the country, so you know you’d be alone at the cabin. You glance at your laptop over your shoulder – you have three days off in front of you before your next class on Monday. Indeed, the Friday class is pre-recorded and to watch online in your free time, and you figure you can always watch it some other time.

So you turn towards Choi San, almost surprised that he’s real and he’s still sitting in front of you, honey skin cut open on his ribs.

“I might know a place where you can go,” you admit, with a small voice, surprising both you and him. Because you doubt he expects you to want to help, after tonight.

“What?” he asks.

“My uncle’s cabin,” you remind him, because you’ve told him about it all those years ago. “He should have all that I need to stitch you up.”

San looks down at himself. “You’ve just cut my shirt open.”

It sounds a little dumbfounded, and you can’t help the nervous laugh that falls from your mouth. Because even though it doesn’t look too deep, the wound still is terrifying in and of itself.

“I’ll bandage it,” you whisper. “Before we go.”

He seems like he ponders for a time. You watch the debate across his features, his eyes falling to a spot on your chin. He looks sad, troubled and defeated. “I can’t… I can’t do this to you.”

You ignore his words, carefully washing his side. You avoid the cut and try to be as gentle as you can, but his muscles still flex as he clenches his fists from the pain.

He’s strong. That much hasn’t changed. Because he doesn’t make any sound as you finish washing him and then patch him up with those same careful hands. And when you move to his face, cleaning the blood, his eyes flutter shut, and he sighs softly.

He looks so much like he looked then that your heart aches, and you find yourself blinking away tears for this man who’s had it so rough he believed joining a gang would save him.

“I should have come to you before,” he murmurs. “You’re much gentler than Hongjoong.”

You don’t know the guy he mentioned, and you don’t feel like asking. Don’t feel like acknowledging his words, so you just finish with his cheek before stepping away from the peaceful aura that was treacherously pulling you in.

Like all those years ago, you reckon.

“Let me make a call,” you say, turning away from him as you move to the counter. You feel the weight of his eyes between your shoulder blades as you get your phone from next to your laptop. You call your boss, and as someone that’s never called in sick before, you feel anxiety flush through you.

Because you’re not sick. And how could you tell him that you need to take care of your ex-boyfriend of eight years ago?

Seokhyun picks up on the first ring, voice groggy with sleep when he mutters, “Hello?”

“Boss,” you greet him. You scrape your throat and spare a look towards San who’s watching you curiously. “An emergency came up, and I have to leave the diner.” You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed from lying, and then you add, “There haven’t been any customers all night, so I was wondering… would you be comfortable with me closing for the rest of the night?”

Your boss says your name, a little reproachfully. But then he sighs, because he knows just as well as you what a good employee you’ve always been. “Are you going to be able to come in tomorrow night?” he asks.

You pull at dry skin on your bottom lip, assessing San’s state. You could always come back to the city for work…

“You know what, I know you’ve got that big exam coming up,” your boss says, sighing into the phone. “Why don’t you take the next week off so you can take care of your emergency and focus on your studies?”

If Seokhyun wasn’t a fifty-three year old married and father of three children man, you think you’d ask him to marry you right now.

“That would be really helpful,” you tell him, gratitude dripping from your voice. “Are you sure that won’t be a problem for the diner?”

“The diner won’t lose profit if it closes for three nights in the week,” he points out. “I’ll see if I can get you replaced for the evening shift on Sunday.”

You thank him again as he grumbles that it’s nothing. He wishes you good luck, and when the line goes silent, you finally meet San’s gaze again.

“All sorted out,” you tell him, offering him a nod. “Let me just close the diner, and then we can go.”

He nods, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He observes you as you do so, quickly closing the diner like you’ve done about a hundred times before, though this time you’re far more excited to go. You grab a plastic bag to put away the bloody swabs, and though he groans in pain, San gets up to help you clean the blood that stained the cheap leather of the booth.

Soon enough, you’re ready to go, and you walk outside with the plastic bag in one hand and your backpack on your shoulders as San chuckles, looking down at himself.

“Do you have a shirt for me?” he asks as he follows you out.

You lock the door behind you before glancing at him. He’s quite the sight, naked from the waist up and bandaged like he is, and you can’t help the small chuckle you let out as you glance towards your car, that’s luckily parked right in front.

Though it’s a deadbeat car, you trust it enough to know it’ll make the trip to your uncle’s cabin, even in the middle of the night.

“My ex left some sweaters on the back seat,” you admit as you unlock your car doors and open the trunk to put your backpack and the plastic bag in there. There’s no chance in hell you’ll leave a plastic bag full of bloody swabs near your work.

You see San nod from the periphery of your vision, and then he’s opening the door to the backseat. “Your ex, huh?” he mutters as he grabs a sweater you used to love wearing and that you haven’t convinced yourself to give back to Hyunmin.

He carefully puts it on, and you’re pretty sure just the motion is going to make blood seep through the bandage. Somehow, you don’t care that it might stain Hyunmin’s sweater.

Hyunmin was a cheater, and even though you never really loved him, it took you months before you found the strength to break up with him. Needless to say, he doesn’t deserve his clothes back.

“Yeah,” you flatly say as you move towards the driver’s seat. You sit, and San follows you, naturally, as if you’ve done it a thousand times before.

As you turn the keys in the engine, San asks, “Have you dated a lot?”

You bristle at the question, shooting him an embarrassed look. “Have you?”

“No,” he replies, features fully serious.

You purse your lips, focusing on the road as you start driving. You need to put gas in the car if you want to get to your uncle’s cabin, so you make your way towards the closest one. It takes you a moment before you register how San has stiffened next to you.

“Can we…” he trails off, and he sinks in the seat, trying to hide. “I can’t be seen here.”

You immediately press on the accelerator, and your car speeds down the street as you pass in front of the gas station. You glance at San only when you’re stopped at a red light. He’s pulled the hood of the sweater over his features, and he’s doing his best to hide.

“Where can we stop?” you ask.

“Next town over,” he answers. “I just can’t be seen in Bangtan territory.”

Right. You have no knowledge of how the gangs have divided your city, but you’re not surprised Bangtan has this part of town. It’s the industrial area, and you assume there’s a lot of money to be made around here.

“Sounds good,” you gently say, and then you’re driving again, the light turning green, allowing you to speed away into the night.

You drive silently all the way to the next town, watching your city disappear to be replaced by trees until buildings reappear. San is looking outside the window, and you can’t help but wonder how he’s been doing, truly. How he managed to get injured like he is right now, and mostly, if his dreams of running away still occupy his thoughts.

He had begged you, the evening you had broken up with him. Told you he’d make enough money to be able to move with you across the country and build yourself a nice little life over there. You had wanted to believe him for so long, until your parents had opened your eyes on just how he was trying to make money.

“Do you need anything?” you ask as you finally reach the gas station, pulling into the driveway. You park next to a pump, turning to face him only to find him already watching you.

“I don’t have money to pay for food,” he admits. He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I lost my wallet in the… altercation.”

You gently put a hand on his forearm. “Hey, my treat. We have to eat.”

He inhales deeply, letting out the breath slowly, before he nods. “Alright. I owe you.”

You reckon he’ll owe you for a lot more than just food at a gas station, but you choose not to say it. Not when you feel like someone’s watching over your shoulder, watching you drive away in the night with the person they are looking for.

You know it’s paranoia. No one followed you out of the city and into this town. It just feels too strange to have him here, with you. In your car, on the way to your uncle’s cabin, as if eight years have gone out the window. As if you can still be young and innocent.

It’s stupid, because you can’t. Time has changed him; time has changed you. And in just a few years you’ll be a doctor, and you’ll finally get out of this hellhole of a city, of its dangerous streets.

Of its equally dangerous man, that you know could probably pull you back in with one of his many well-crafted lies, one of the dreams he weaved expertly, whispering it into your ear.

You take a deep breath before getting out of the car. You go into the station, grab snacks for the next few days and then head to the counter. The guy behind nods as you approach, and you pay for the food and for gas before wishing him a good night and returning outside. San is still squatting in the car, clearly trying to hide, and you put the food on the backseat before putting gas in.

You watch his profile as you put gas in the car. Back when you were dating, his features weren’t as sharp, as glass-cutting as they now are. He used to sport a rounder face, but today you wonder if you’d get a papercut on his jaw. You wouldn’t even be surprised.

When you’re done with gas, you sit back next to him, and you quickly bring the engine back to life before pulling out in the street. As soon as you exit the city, darkness falls on the two of you, tall trees standing on the two sides of the road again. San doesn’t speak much, and it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s dozing off next to you.

“Hey, everything okay?” you ask, suddenly worried that he might have lost too much blood. Which, you reckon, you should have thought about earlier.

He sighs, glancing towards you. “Just tired.”

“Don’t…” you trail off. “Don’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles. “You’re afraid I’m going to die on you?”

“Choi San,” you warn. “Don’t you dare say stuff like that.”

He smiles, but you reckon he’s a little pale. Or at least you think he is, in the silver light of the moon up above. “I think I’m fine. Just…” He offers you a weak smile, though you’ve returned your attention on the winding road. “Just exhausted. I haven’t slept in three days.”

Worry clutches your heart, and you nibble at some dry skin on your bottom lip. “What’s been going on?”

He slightly shrugs. “I can’t tell you. I don’t want to put you in danger…”

“Am I not already in danger by just helping you?”

The silence is telling enough. And it remains for a while until San finally speaks.

“I was in a gunfight a week ago. Accidentally shot the youngest member of the other gang. He didn’t make it, and the gang has put a bounty on my head. Ateez took my gun and told me to run; I laughed in their face and said I wasn’t a coward. Then I got attacked by two guys with knives earlier, and I made it to the diner because I had nowhere else to go.”

Now the silence is deafening, heavy, and you think you’ve altogether stopped breathing. You’re struck with an image of San in the summer sun, smiling wide as he put a flower behind your ear, claiming you were the most beautiful girl he had ever met. The contrast with who he is now – a product of night, shrouded in darkness with no hint of that smile on his lips – is stark. And you wonder when’s the last time he has seen the sun, when’s the last time his life wasn’t violence like this.

When you say nothing, he scoffs, resting his head against the window as if it’d allow him to escape. Because clearly he wants to escape – he’s just told you that he’s killed someone after all.

And you don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to react to someone confessing murder. All you can do is stare at the street ahead, hoping you won’t end up in a gunfight with San. Because where would that lead you, other than in the dramatics of death?

You don’t speak for the rest of the ride. You don’t think he sleeps either, and dawn is clinging to the far horizon when you get to your uncle’s cabin, in a secluded forest that seems straight out of a fairytale. Instead of bringing you awe like it usually does, the sight of it makes you think of all the murder mysteries you had been obsessed with when you were younger, before you realized how horrible the real world truly is.

Neither of you move, as you turn off the engine of the car, and you fall into even more of a tensed silence, though this time you can hear the chirping of the early birds. It’s peaceful, so peaceful you can barely even grasp how tangible the presence of San is next to you. The presence of his actions too, looming between the two of you like a sword of Damocles.

You move first. Putting a hand on the knob, hoping to escape the heaviness into the dawn. San speaks before you can though, and your heart stops in your chest.

“I never meant for him to get hurt,” he murmurs, and you think he’s speaking to himself more than to you. “Everything went too fast, my gun was in my hand and I just… in situations like these, you don’t have time to think.” He leans his head against the headrest, eyes closing. “All I can picture since it’s happened is him falling and blood. Like a fucking blossoming rose, all around him.” He rests his closed fist on his forehead, rubbing it hard. “I haven’t been able to sleep; I’ve been sick every time I’ve tried to eat…”

“San,” you interrupt as you break and break for him. Because this is the San you know. This is the young boy that just wanted to escape and live in a better world. You can almost taste his remorse, taste his regret and shame. It’s poisonous, treacherous, a slippery slope that can’t lead anywhere good. “Let’s get you in. I want to get that cut on your ribs checked.”

He falls silent, and for a moment you feel guilty. Because what if he had more to say? You don’t even think you would have been able to listen. You need the escape, and you know he’ll permit it. Because the man next to you is a broken man, a fracture of what he could have been.

You step out of the car, blinking away tears – from the anxiety, from the exhaustion, and perhaps even from the pain you feel for him. He follows you, wincing as he swings his legs out of the car. He stumbles a little as he stands, but soon enough, he grows steady on his feet, and his attention moves to you. You climb the stairs of the cabin, lifting the rug to find the small trap that leads to the spare key. The padlock is rusted, but it stands strong as you put in the code, and a click is heard when you pull on it.

A few seconds later, you’ve unlocked the front door, pushing it open to reveal the cabin as you remember it. Not a single item is out of place, though dust covers everything, a clear indication that no one has been here in years. You let San in, before going back to the car to get the food you bought, bringing it in and putting it in the fridge. Three full gas canisters hide under the counter, and you sigh in relief – you’ll be able to get the generator on for some electricity.

You motion to the kitchen table. “Have a seat,” you tell San, who somehow looks like a lost puppy. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He nods, remaining silent, eyes downcast. You only move when he’s seated, heading to the bathroom area of the cabin, where you startle a spider that almost makes you scream out loud. You keep it in, heart beating out of your chest as you get the kit before moving back into the main area.

San is leaning against the chair, eyes closed. He senses you approaching, and one of his eyes cracks open to watch you carefully, a little like he did earlier, at the diner. It looks so similar to how he used to look at you, when you joined him at the field, that you stop in your tracks, heart squeezing once again.

You don’t like the way Choi San is making you feel, that’s for sure.

“Take off the sweater,” you tell him, putting the kit down on the table. You put some clean linen next to it, to put what you need over it, before washing your hands with the disinfectant you find in the kit. You put latex gloves on after, and then you fish wire and a surgical needle from the first aid kit that you carefully put down on the linen once you’ve torn the packages open.

As you were doing all of that, San took off the shirt, struggling a little as it meant he had to lift his right arm, which pulled at the skin of his ribs, where the cut clearly has started bleeding again. Though, if you’re honest to yourself, you’re pretty sure he’s been bleeding this whole time, even though it probably was just some fine rivulets.

Indeed, the cut isn’t all that deep, you remind yourself. Mostly because you don’t want to even think about the consequences of the blood loss. As long as he stays awake, you figure he’s fine – he would have lost consciousness a while ago if he was losing a lot of blood.

You remove the bandage you had carefully put in place earlier, wincing at the sight of the blood that’s seeped through it. San keeps his eyes close, lets you clean his skin again in peace, and you feel sick to your stomach as you realize you don’t have any anesthetics for the pain that stitching him up will cause. Indeed, the pocket in which your uncle usually leaves the lidocaine is empty, and you remember that he’s had to use it for your dad when he accidentally cut himself with a machete last summer.

“Huh,” you let out. You chuckle nervously. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

His eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”

You worry at your bottom lip, holding his gaze as you gauge if he’s serious. When his gaze doesn’t falter, you offer him a curt nod, before getting the wire and needle ready under his watchful eyes.

You hand him some linen. “To bite on,” you explain as he just cocks an eyebrow quizzically. That makes his gaze widen a little as if he’s just now realizing how serious you were about it hurting, but he takes it nonetheless.

You think about the theory of how to stitch someone up. It was in your previous block – you watched hours of videos of it in an attempt to desensitize yourself to it. You don’t think it compares to the real thing, but at least you’re somehow confident of what you’re doing when you start.

San startles, groaning in pain, and you offer him a glare. “Don’t move, or it’ll be worse.”

A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, but he still nods. Even as you keep on stitching him, he remains as still as he physically can, though you don’t think he even notices how he’s trembling. Or maybe that’s you – you don’t even know.

Somehow, you make it through the whole thing. You think San might have passed out at some point, but he’s wide awake when you finish the knot to keep the stitches in place, looking up to meet his face.

He’s panting and tears of pain wet his waterline. He blinks them away as he takes the linen out of his mouth, dropping it on the table.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Let me…” you trail off, mind set on getting something to at least help him cool off, because he’s clearly been heating up.

You grab a washcloth and a small bucket, and head outside to walk down to the lake. You fill the bucket halfway, and take a few seconds to observe the calm surrounding you, hoping that it can ease the nerves rolling inside your heart like dark clouds do on the horizon whenever a storm is coming. You feel it in your bones – you have a murderer in your uncle’s cabin.

You have to keep that in mind. To not let Choi San in like you did when you were a young impressionable teenager.

You sigh, closing your eyes to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun is peaking over the horizon now, and you bask in its hesitant rays for all of twenty seconds before you convince yourself to go back in. You’ve got a patient to take care of, after all.

San hasn’t moved an inch while you were outside. The only indication that he hasn’t died on you is the groan he lets out as you put the wet washcloth on his forehead. You tap his cheek gently, as if to say, ‘suck it up, I’m just trying to take care of you’.

Which is exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?

You watch him carefully for a few seconds before tapping his shoulder this time around.

“There’s a bed,” you remind him. “You’d be better passing out in a bed.”

He groans again, cracking an eye open. “I’ve just been repeatedly poked with a needle,” he drawls. “Give me a second.”

It makes you laugh. Because of the nerves, maybe. You’re not quite sure. All you know is that you’re laughing, and San opens his second eye to look at you as if you’re crazy. And you laugh for longer than you should – you’re exhausted after all, especially considering you haven’t slept since yesterday morning. So far, adrenaline has been keeping you going, but you can tell you’re about to crash.

“Sorry,” you apologize once you calm down. “This has just been…”

“A lot,” San finishes for you. “I know.”

You nod once before glancing at the doorway to the bedroom. It has no door, as your uncle and your dad usually come here alone and they don’t mind sharing a bed. It makes you realize that you’ll have to share it with San, which you reckon you should have thought about before. Because there’s no way in hell you’ll share a bed with him, especially after he’s told you why he’s being hunted.

There’s always the option of going into town later today so you can get a sleeping bag and floor mat to sleep on. But you’re far too tired right now to even consider driving, so you motion to the bed once again.

“Stick to your side; I’ll stick to mine.”

He smirks though he’s extremely pale. A lot paler than he was before, and you swallow a sudden lump in your throat. Because what if he dies? What are you supposed to do with him if he dies?

“You’ll have to help me to get to the bed ‘cause I don’t think I can move,” he says once his smirk dies. He curses under his breath. “I’m so pathetic.”

You put your hand on his shoulder again, reassuringly, eyes holding his. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re hurt. Everyone is pathetic when they’re hurt.”

He gulps before nodding once. It takes everything in you not to offer him more comfort because you feel like the slope would tilt forwards far too much if you did. Instead, you help him to get up, wincing as he puts most of his weight on you, clutching his side with one hand. You’re infinitely aware of how his skin is sticky with sweat, but you ignore it as you slowly walk to the bedroom.

You can only hope the stitches will hold because you don’t think he’d be able to withstand another round of them.

You finally reach the bedroom and help San sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, eyes shut tightly, and he doesn’t move for a time. When he does, it’s to stiffly lie down on his side.

“You might want to sleep on your back,” you inform him. “I don’t want you rolling around and messing up the stitches.”

He glares at you, though he looks like he’s already half out of it. You hold his gaze until he gives in, turning on his back with a deep sigh. You arrange pillows around him to make sure he’s not moving, and by the time you’re done, his breathing has already evened out.

For a moment, you just watch him sleep. You see him in the field where young love blossomed like a trillion wildflowers. You can almost breathe his pollen again, can almost feel the softness of his skin under your fingertips.

But he’s not what he used to be. Back then, you felt like you had discovered something new. Love, infatuation, affection, and desire, all in the form of the man sleeping next to you. You’d used to kiss, dance and sing to a song only your souls knew, and now you don’t think you recognize him anymore.

As much as he is him, he’s also but just the ghost of what he was. He’s trouble, danger in the shape of innocence, and you recall his words from earlier. You recall the despair, the regret and sorrow that haunted him after he told you. You can’t let him get to your head.

You reckon sleep might help. Though you’re afraid he’s going to waste away in his sleep, so you set up an alarm every hour, before climbing on the other side of the bed. You don’t pull on the covers, mostly because the cabin is warm, and you can imagine it’s just going to get hotter as the sun goes up and the summer heat slowly sizzles into the countryside.

It’s a good thing you put an alarm on. Because when it rings an hour later, you don’t even remember falling asleep. You’re pretty sure the second your head touched the mattress, you were out to the land of dreams. You groan, mostly because you’ve got a slight headache, but you power through it to make sure San is still breathing.

When you see his chest moving up and down steadily, you let yourself fall back asleep.

This goes on for the whole morning, and you only force yourself to stay up when your phone shows that it’s passed noon. As you had suspected earlier, the cabin has gotten extremely warm, so you force yourself out of bed to open all the windows, and then you use the washcloth from earlier to gently wash San’s face of the sweat.

He doesn’t even flinch in his sleep, but he’s still breathing and for now, that’s all that matters.

You head back to the main room, grabbing a pack of chips from where you had left the food earlier, and then you move outside to sit by the lake. Mostly because you need to put distance between you and San, but also just because the childhood memories of this place have you in their hold, and they’ve decided to make you miss the times when you’d swim around with your cousins before both of them had moved out of town.

One day, it’s going to be you too. You already know where you’d go – on the other side of the country, as far away from here as possible. You just want to forget all about the place you grew up in, and you know that, in a few years, you will have forgotten.

Though you’re pretty sure a certain piercing gaze will haunt you forever, especially after the events of today.

When another hour passes, you head back inside, putting the empty bag of chips in the trash before you check up on San. He’s still asleep, but this time he doesn’t look as pale as he did earlier. You assume it’s going to take him a while before he wakes, so you head to the nearest town to grab more food. Mostly to busy yourself, but also just because you know San will need a place to hide for a lot longer than just the weekend. Might as well make sure you have enough for him to survive a couple of days. In town, you also stop to eat at a small café on a small terrasse in the shade of a few trees, and then you grab the food you think you might need at the grocery store.

It’s the middle of the afternoon when you get back, realizing that you forgot to buy a floor mat. As you spy San, who hasn’t moved an inch since he’s fallen asleep, you figure that sleeping next to him tonight should be fine.

As long as his presence in your vicinity doesn’t drag you down memory lane again.

You bought some meat in town, so you head to the little shack outside where the generator is hiding. There’s a gas canister right next to it – also full – and you busy yourself for the next twenty minutes trying to figure out how to get it started. When it finally rumbles to life, you head back inside to put the meat in the fridge, which has finally come to life.

When you hear a groan, you quickly jog to San’s side, fully expecting to find him awake. Surprisingly, he’s still asleep, and you stay next to him for a full minute, thinking he might groan again, though he remains entirely silent.

If it wasn’t for his chest moving up and down steadily, you’d believe him to be dead. But now that a few hours have passed, you’re pretty positive he’ll make it, though he’s probably going to sleep through the day and possibly through the next one too.

Which leaves you in the most peaceful atmosphere you’ve been in for a while, with the opportunity to study as you listen to the rush of wind in the leaves of the tall trees surrounding the cabin. You sit outside, this time near the fireplace, and you study until your stomach grumbles, indicating that it is time for you to cook.

You cook the meat you’ve bought on the grill outside, feeling thankful that your dad once showed you how to use it. You go back in to grab a bottle of water before you eat, and you’re bent in the fridge when you hear San moan again, and this time it sounds like he’s saying something.

You gently close the fridge, making your way to the bedroom. San hasn’t moved, but his features are creased in a frown, and sweat is rolling down his temples. You wet the washcloth, gently wipe his face, and you’re about to leave when he moans again.

It takes you far too long to realize he’s apologizing. What for, you can’t really tell. Though you remember his troubled eyes this morning, you remember his story, and your heart breaks in your chest.

He’s haunted. You think the ghost of the dead guy will probably haunt him for the rest of his life. And suddenly you’re struck thinking maybe, maybe if you hadn’t broken his heart all those years ago, you could have saved him from the gang.

Maybe you could have opened his eyes.

You still remember the break-up like it was yesterday. You remember the rain, him leaving without once looking back, but mostly you remember the words you had uttered. Ghosts of their own, that feel more real now that he’s come back into your life.

*****

                “You’re going to get hurt!” you yelled. “You’ll get hurt, San. What are you thinking?”

He scoffed, shaking his head, and little droplets of water shot all around him. “I’ll be careful. We need the money if we ever want to make it out of this shit town.”

You blinked away tears, folding your arms on your chest as you tried to keep your heart from breaking. Though you reckoned it had broken when your parents had told you what they knew about San. When your father had mentioned Ateez, and you’d truly realized what it meant that he was part of a gang. San, your sweet, soft, and bubbly San, in a gang that had murdered someone just a few weeks ago.

“But that’s not a way to make money!” you screamed, hoping he’d understand. Hoping he’d hear the truth in your words, hoping he’d change his mind before it was too late. “Why don’t you get a part-time job, like me? Then we can go to college and get jobs in a nice city on the other side of the country!”

“It won’t work,” he drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want to be out soon, not in a few years. I barely even have a roof over my head, Y/n…”

“Come live with me,” you choked out around the lump in your throat.

You both knew fully well that your parents would never let him come near you again.

“I can’t.”

You cried, hiding your face in your hands. You cried thinking of the field where you usually met, thinking about its beauty now fading into ugliness. You thought about the wildflowers, withered and dead as autumn had come. You thought about how you were convinced you knew what love was.

“What’s the point?” you asked then. “What’s the point of putting your life in danger? Life isn’t some sort of a game, Choi San. Worse, what if you have to hurt someone? Do you think you’ll be able to pull the trigger?”

He clenched his jaw, hard. “Do me a favour and stop asking questions.”

You closed your eyes, feeling sick to your stomach. Because it couldn’t be. Not San. Not your smiley San, who’d always weave dandelions crowns with you, as you’d pretend you were a queen and a king of that field you had found. An empty field, an abandoned farmland that was just yours and his to explore. That had been home to your first kiss, and all of those that had followed.

Now you wondered why he had always wanted to meet there in the first place. Was he trying to hide?

"If you love me, you’ll get out while you still can,” you said as your tears suddenly ended.

There was a weird sense of clarity in you, suddenly. You remembered the day you had fallen in love, the moment you had first kissed. You remembered the stars in the sky above, the meteors falling for the two of you. You remembered the music on the radio you had brought. Some Arctic Monkeys song about heartbreak, about moving on and failing to do so. As a joke, when it had ended, you had asked San, “Do you think love is a laserquest?”

His answer had been cryptic, mysterious, things that had made you believe he was the one. “Maybe. Maybe it is, and I’ve shot you in the back while you weren’t looking. Maybe I’m that annoying player that won’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll never find you annoying,” you had replied.

But today, watching the rain rolling down his face like tears, you realized that maybe, maybe you should have seen the warning behind his words. Because this betrayal, it came like he had shot you in the back – you didn’t think you’d be able to recover from it.

The past dwindled away as San spoke again, reminding you of the question you had just asked him. “It’s not a question of love, Y/n. I do love you. But it’s a question of survival.”

You laughed, coldly, and then you said, “You know what? You’re full of shit.”

“Alright then. Do me a favour and tell me to go away.”

“Go away.”

A long silence had lingered between you, voided of that summer warmth that had you falling in love. Like a piece was missing from the contract of you loving him, and him loving you. And you realized, maybe you had never really loved each other anyway.

He nodded once when you didn’t say anything else, before turning away. And you watched him walk away. You watched him thinking he was going to turn around and tell you this was just some twisted joke, the prank of the century. Only, he never turned around, and he disappeared behind the bend in the road, never to be seen again, cracking your heart open and splitting it in half.

*****

                The sun sets, like an ending to a dream. You’ve always liked the end – you think if you could choose, you’d want to witness the end of the world. The nostalgia, the beauty of endings… it’s something you understand now that you didn’t understand when you were younger. Because you and San ending, it had led to you focusing on high school. It had allowed you to get in the good college in town, with a scholarship that covered most of your expenses before you made it to med school.

There’s beauty in knowing losing San has allowed you to live out your dreams.

There’s less beauty in knowing that San has been sleeping for almost thirty-four hours now. Last time you checked, he was still breathing, but you’re starting to be afraid that he just won’t wake up. It’s irrational, you know – after the blood loss it makes sense that he’d sleep for a long time.

But it leaves you with far too much time on your hands to think and revisit the past. You’ve been doing it all day – thinking about the fight with your parents that had led to your break-up with San, thinking about that damn rainy evening he had walked away without once looking back. Thinking of the field, of sunshine and star falls and the sweetness of a first kiss. Thinking that, then, you thought you knew what it was like to be in love.

You haven’t dated anyone serious since San. Hyunmin was a distraction for a while, but you never were into it. Not like you were into San. There’s a guy in your class though, that you’ve been chatting with for a couple of weeks. He’s sweet, innocent, and the perspective of a future seems less scary with him around. He’s mentioned he wants to move across the country once too, and since then you’ve started talking more, the similarity of your wishes drawing you closer.

All day today you’ve been feeling like you’re slowly drifting away though. Slowly getting entrapped in a web you’re not sure you’ll be able to walk away from.

You decide to swim, seeking the fresh clarity only cold water can bring to you. You don’t have a swimsuit with you, but since San is half-dead in bed you figure it doesn’t matter. So you strip naked, feet making squelching sounds in the mud by the lake side as you step in the water.

The sharp cold has you holding your breath, but you don’t slow down. You’ve never slowed down in life – when you make a decision, you bring it to completion. And you’ve decided to swim, so swim you will.

The warm summer evening breeze catches in your hair as you take another step forward, the water now lapping at your thighs. You dread the moment it’ll hit your core, knowing that that’s the worst part, but you breathe in deeply, moving forward. Because there’s no moving backwards now.

When the water hits, your eyes flutter shut, and you hold in the wince that threatens to escape the mask of calm your features hold. Soon enough, you get deep enough to swim, and the movements bring welcomed warmth to your limbs as you flop on your back, tits out of the water.

Your uncle’s cabin is the only cabin in a fifteen miles radius. You know you won’t be interrupted, and so you let the water cool you down. Calm you down, hold you in its fresh embrace. It undoes knots in your back that have formed from worrying about San, but also from worrying about college.

From worrying that you will never be enough. You think it’s a normal anxiety to have, something most people must feel as they go through the trials of college, not knowing what to expect on the other side. A nice career, perhaps, though the perspective of failure is there too, looming over the horizon.

You sigh, and your eyes flutter open as your legs move mindlessly under you, making sure to keep you afloat. You look up at the azury ceiling over your head, so far away as it slowly turns gold. Out of touch, out of grasp. You watch the fluffy white clouds that are lazily crossing the sky, turning fiery in the sunset, as if they have all the time in the universe. And you wish you were them, up above. With nothing to worry about.

Without a Choi San on the brink of death lying about twenty meters away from you. You sigh, and you turn in the water, with the purpose of swimming again. Though your gaze catches movement by the cabin, and your head snaps towards it to see none other than the supposedly Choi San, standing on the deck with a hand clutching his side.

You shriek, looking down at yourself. Most of you is hidden, but you don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know if he’s seen you naked as you looked up at the sky.

He doesn’t move, only watches you where you’re swimming.

“Can you please look away?” you say from the water, and he has the nerves to lean against the railing, eyes still boring into where you’re swimming. You think his gaze might be so hot the water will boil, and it startles you into action.

You start walking out of the water, pointing towards the door. “You shouldn’t be up, Choi San.”

“I feel fine,” he says as you take another step forward, and the water barely hides your tits anymore.

That makes him turn around, as he offers you a little bit of privacy. You’re quick to get out of the water and wrap yourself in the towel you brought outside, and then you collect your clothes to head back to the cabin. San dutifully keeps his gaze away until you’re climbing the three steps leading to the deck, and it’s then that his eyes trail to you again.

“Thank you for the water,” he says, offering you a tentative smile.

You left water by his bedside earlier today hoping it will coax him to wake up. You’re strangely surprised that it worked.

“You should go sit inside,” you scold him, only half-heartedly. Because seeing him up and about reassures you, somehow.

He cocks an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “The weather is beautiful, I’d rather sit outside.”

You roll your eyes, but you do let him walk down the stairs to sit by the fireplace while you go inside to take a quick shower and get dressed. You decide to make some food for him, though you know he shouldn’t eat too much right now, after not having eaten for a while. He has to start slowly, and you don’t even know if he’s hungry anyway.

You settle for preparing a cup of chicken noodle soup for him, so at least it isn’t too heavy on his stomach. You bring it to him outside, as he’s just calmly observing the lake.

“Thank you,” he says, voice small as he grabs the cup and the spoon.

You sit next to him, trying not to watch him eat too much. His hair is sticking to his forehead in some places, and you have the distinct thought that he’ll probably need to shower. At least there’s plenty of rain water in the bucket for the water pump.

“What have you been doing while I was out?” he asks.

You spare him a quick glance before losing your gaze in the rocks of the fireplace. “I’ve studied. Checked up on you. Not much honestly.”

He chuckles. “I’d argue that caring for someone is a lot.”

You glance at him, cheeks burning at the sight of his teasing smile. “Not really.”

He chuckles again, but doesn’t say anything more before eating another spoonful of soup. He’s almost done with the cup when he actually does speak, asking, “How long was I out?”

“A day and a half,” you answer. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t slept longer.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m made of tough stuff.”

You snicker, but you don’t say anything, just focusing on where you’re kicking at the dirt. When he’s done with the cup, he puts it down on the ground next to him, before sitting back in the chair. He stretches out his legs in front of him, sighing deeply.

“I still feel out of it,” he admits, and you meet his gaze.

“You can sleep more,” you tell him. “I’d just like to check on the…”

You don’t even have to finish your sentence. He immediately turns so his side is to you, and you have to admit you’ve done a perfectly good job with the stitches.

“So?” he asks.

“All good.” You pat his shoulder. “You can sit comfortably again.”

He’s smiling when he does so, and his gaze wanders to the lake once again. “I’m sorry I…” he trails off, and he chuckles softly. “I’m sorry I interrupted your little swim earlier.”

You have the decency to flush furiously red, and you shrug your shoulders. “No worries, I wasn’t expecting you to be up so soon.”

You fall in a comfortable silence, surprisingly so. Rare stars dot the darkening sky up above, and all that can be heard for a moment is the flap of a bird’s wing as it moves from branches to branches in the trees by the water. The breeze picks up as you watch the little bird, and the leaves dance, loudly so. You’d think it’d be deafening in the silence between you and him, but it’s strangely reassuring.

As if, after all, you found your way back to the field. Only this time it’s completely different, as if decades have passed between you. At least, that’s how it feels like.

You notice San has dozed off in the chair next to you when you were about to speak to him again. To ask him how he’s truly been, in the years between then and now. Hoping to avoid mentioning what led to him coming to you, yesterday, a whole eternity ago.

You watch him, heart aching in your chest. Aching to reach out and brush his hair away from his forehead, aching to heal the cut on his cheek with a gentle swipe of your fingers. If only medicine was so simple…

It seems the peace of the early evening wasn’t going to stay around, because you notice dark clouds rolling in the distance, streaks of lightning cutting through them. Slowly inching closer, menacingly so, and you gently wake San up with your hand on his wrist.

He startles awake, hand shooting to his waist, finding nothing there. It startles you, and you both stare at each other for a moment until you realize what he was looking for.

His gun.

“San…” you let out and he runs his hand through his hair, eyes falling shut as he breathes in and out raggedly.

“Sorry.”

“San, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, refuses to let you see the vulnerability you glimpsed behind his piercing gaze. Refuses to acknowledge that he’s terrified, deadly so.

“Let’s go in,” you tell him, softly. Because you’re afraid you’ll spook him, when he’s clearly been living in fear long enough. “There’s a storm coming.”

He nods, carefully getting up without sparing you a glance. He heads inside, hand clutching his side again, while you pick up the chicken noodle soup cup before following him.

You’ve refilled the generator before swimming, so you know it’s been charging the batteries for a while now. You don’t fear ending up in the dark with San, and there’s also always the option of using the lamps and candles your uncle always leave here in case of an emergency.

The storm doesn’t roll in until a little later. You’ve forced San to put a shirt on – mostly so your eyes would stop betraying you, dropping to his toned body whenever he talked to you. You’re currently sitting on the couch, and as the rain starts, hammering against the window behind you, you pull your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms comfortably around them.

“How hard do the storms hit here?” he asks, eyes trailed to the world outside.

You follow his gaze, right as wind picks up to make the water hit the window even harder, creating a cacophony that forces you to speak louder for him to hear. “Pretty hard.”

He nods, and he glances once at you. “Fun.”

You smile, because you’ve always liked storms. Have always found them electrifying, energizing.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the field when it rained?” San asks, taking you by surprise.

Making your heart clench so hard in your chest you have to take a wobbly breath in. If he notices he doesn’t say.

“We were always in that field,” you remind him. “No matter the weather.”

It’s his turn to smile fondly. “It got so pretty with all the wildflowers. But you were afraid of the bees.”

“Bees are scary!” You laugh, and he echoes it with a soft chuckle. “You’re the one that almost pissed yourself when we saw the rat.”

That makes him laugh, and he winces in pain clutching his side. “Gosh, is it supposed to keep on hurting like this?”

It douses your enthusiasm and your smile falls. “Well, it was a solid cut.”

His eyes get lost in the void as he takes on a wistful expression. “I’m surprised I didn’t die.”

You gulp, watching his profile carefully. “It wasn’t deep enough for that…” you trail off, even though you spent most of yesterday and today being convinced he’d die. “At least they didn’t… stab you.”

“They would have if… Wooyoung didn’t shoot.”

You remain silent, not knowing what to reply to that. San interprets that as discomfort, and he quickly adds, “He didn’t shoot them. Just… in the air. It attracted the police.”

You remember the cars zooming past the diner a lifetime ago, and you nod your head. “I heard.”

He seems surprised, and his gaze finally finds yours again. “You did?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, a little awkwardly. “I hear a lot of shootings, in the diner.”

His eyes widen, mouth falling open cutely. “You do?”

You don’t know what he expected. The diner is right between Ateez and Bangtan territory, and as much as it is a safe space, it is also near enough to dangerous grounds, and you’ve heard plenty of shooting in your time working there.

“Always,” you admit. “It can get scary sometimes… but you also get used to it.”

He looks sad. Infinitely so, like a lost puppy. That’s when the first thunder hits, so sharp and sudden you startle. Not quite as much as San, who ducks, wincing in pain as he clutches his side.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, in time with another thunderclap, though this time it’s more of a rumble.

You watch his chest as he breathes in and out quickly. “Just… fuck.”

Now, concern grows in you, and you gently put a hand on his shoulder. “San…”

He meets your gaze, and there’s so much white in his it makes you think of a terrified prey. And then it clicks: he thought it was a gunshot.

“Hey,” you quickly say, moving closer to him. You’re on the side of the stitches, so you still keep a safe distance between the two of you, but you grab his hand nonetheless. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck,” is all he’s able to say.

“I promise, no one’s going to find you here.”

He remains silent this time around, eyes still boring into yours. You take that as a cue to continue, because you don’t want him to panic. You want his thoughts here, with you, and not miles away in a city he should have escaped from years ago. You wish he had, knowing the atrocities that he would have avoided.

Would he have escaped with you, had you stayed just a little longer?

“I killed someone,” he says, and you balk at the silver lining his gaze. “I fucking killed him.”

You don’t know how to help. All you can think to do is cup his cheek, right as he starts breathing even faster. “Breathe with me, San.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes fall to your mouth. You make a good show of inhaling slowly, before exhaling even slower. It takes him a moment but he eventually follows your lead.

It breaks when there’s another sharp thunderclap, and he flinches, eyes shutting instinctively.

“Hey hey hey,” you say again, even more gentle, softer than before. You move even closer, and when a tear slips out of his closed eyes, you pull him into a hug, careful not to brush his side.

His head falls on your shoulder, and one of his arms wrap around your waist. A thunderclap later, he starts sobbing, fist balling the fabric of your shirt in his tight hold, and you let him do it. You let him hold onto you, hoping it’ll keep him here with you. Hoping it’ll keep him afloat during the storm that’s raging both outside and in his mind.

“It’s going to be okay,” you breathe, and you feel like you’re lying to him.

Because how can he ever be safe from the ghosts inside of his skull? The ghosts wandering the halls of him, tainting his soul with their presence?

“He’s never going to smile again,” San chokes out. “Everyone loved him. Even in Ateez… Jungkook was the best of us. The only one who had a shot at getting out of it.”

You don’t know how good he could have been, if he was a member of Bangtan. In your mind, you’d always seen Bangtan as the bad guys, mostly because they weren’t with San. Even when you had been struggling to evade that life, you’d still rooted for him.

It’s strange how you just realize that now, as you’re holding him while he breaks.

“You didn’t mean to kill him,” you remind San, still speaking with the calmest voice you can muster up. “You didn’t want to, San. You’re not a murderer.”

“I’m still a killer,” he says. He sounds angry, and you reckon he might be angry at himself. Might be consumed with his actions, dragged to hell before his time as his mind gets stuck replaying the events.

“Maybe,” you answer. “But,” you quickly add when he stiffens in your arms. “But you can spend the rest of your life making up for it. Repenting.”

He doesn’t respond right away, as he breaks some more, sobs rocking through him. You’ve never seen him like this, not even when you were younger and in love. It makes your gaze wet, yet you hold on strong for him. You keep your head held high, and you allow him to break in the safe haven that your arms represent.

Because to him, you’ve never been tainted. You’ve always been the ideal he was trying to pursue, albeit the wrong way.

“I don’t know how to repent,” he admits when he calms down. He turns his head, and his nose brushes along the skin of your neck, slightly tickling you. You ignore the feeling, especially as he adds, “Ateez… it’s all I’ve ever known.”

You run a hand on his back, soothingly. “It isn’t.”

Because there was you, too. There was the summer field and the twinkling stars and Artic Monkeys on the radio. There was the two of you, petal-soft kisses exchanged in the dead of night and in the brightness of day. There were rainy days, and then there was rain. There was him walking away, and you hate yourself then.

You wish you had stopped him that day, had kept him from going on to become what he’s become now. A person he clearly hates, someone that has a bounty on his head. Someone that doesn’t even believe they’re allowed redemption and you reckon you don’t even know if he is.

You only know that seeing him break is bending your will, the way the wind outside is bending the trees. All you can hope is that, like the tall trees, you won’t break.

*****

                The storm calmed down sometime around midnight. San ended up falling asleep on the couch, as you’d reassuringly ran your hand through his hair, trying to keep him with you. Though you think he’s been slipping through your fingers, into his demons.

You’ll find a way to bring him back. You have to. Turns out it comes faster than you think, as the electricity runs out and you busy yourself with lighting some candles throughout the main room. When you’re done, you put a blanket over him, and you almost let out a startled scream as his eyes shot open.

“Hello,” you say, resting a hand on your heart to tame the wild beats.

You’re about to move away, but he grabs your hand, forcing you to sit next to him. You don’t really resist, though you think you probably should. You’re weak – weaker still when he murmurs your name.

“San,” you whisper in return, and you’re aware your voice carries too much longing. Longing for a past when life’s atrocities hadn’t changed either of you yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, and a tear rolls on his cheek.

You dry it, fingers lingering there. “It’s okay.”

“Angel…”

The nickname brings you back to laser quests and favours and warmth creeping up your stomach for the first time in your life.

“I’m no angel,” you breathe.

“You saved me.”

You hold his gaze. There’s something hiding behind his pupils. The need, to forget. You don’t think you have the ability to run his mind through amnesia, but still you brush his cheek again.

“You deserved saving.”

His eyes glaze once more, though this time no tears fall. “It’s hard to believe it.”

“Do you still believe love is a laser quest?” you ask him, out of the blue.

As if you’re a line straight of that Arctic Monkeys song you listened to the first time you kissed.

“Maybe,” he says, a parallel to that first time you had asked the question. “Maybe it is.”

You can’t resist. You lean down, and you press the gentlest kiss on his lips. His are dry, but the way he sighs with you against him is soft, for your heart and for your mind, and you kiss him again. He lets you lead, follows the dance of your lips, lets you run your hand through his sweaty hair.

Even if you shouldn’t. Even if you know everything you’re doing right now is a mistake, you still find yourself deepening the kiss, opening your lips to slip your tongue out, teasing his mouth. One of his hands finds your thigh, and he squeezes ever so slightly as his tongue finds yours, and you let out a breathy sound.

When you pull away, eyes fluttering open, you find San’s gaze. You think about the boy he was then, the girl you were then. You think about who you were, together. And when he says, “Please make me forget”, you lean again, capturing his mouth in a languid kiss.

For a reason unknown, the summer sky and falling stars pale in comparison to this kiss. Maybe because it holds longing, nostalgia. Hope that life would have turned out differently. For a moment, you picture what it would have been like, without Ateez. With you and him in the field, in your family house, in a car driving by the beach, windows down as the sun sets and you sing along to the radio, wind blowing in your hair.

You see a whole life there, with you and him marrying in the field, under the sun that had been the host of your first love. You imagine growing up by his side, attending college with him in the big city. You imagine how he would have become the owner of his own construction company, like his dad before him. You picture kids laughing, running around the house he would have built for you. You see Christmas light, late nights antics by the firelight.

You see it all, and you know you’ll never have any of it. But if you can have tonight, then you’ll grab it before it slips through your fingers. Before he walks away in the rain again, only to be a memory you cherish in the deepest corners of your heart.

“How?” you ask him when you pull away.

Mostly, you’re asking how to make him forget. But you’re also asking how it is that the feelings are still there, even stronger now, as if they’ve grown up with you, yet haven’t changed like you have. Like they are a constant of an ever-changing universe.

“Kiss me again,” he asks, begs, and you give in. You kiss him wildly, always making sure not to touch his side and the stitches.

You know sex would be a stupid idea, especially with the fresh stitches. But also because he’s barely had time to recover. But he doesn’t really give you a choice, pulling you on top of him until you’re straddling him.

You sit back on him for a second, eyes trailing to the spot where you know the stitches are. “This isn’t a good idea,” you whisper through the ragged breaths caused by the ministrations of his mouth on yours and of yours on his.

“I’m fine,” he says, and you know you shouldn’t believe him. But when he pulls you down again, large hand holding the nape of your neck firmly so you don’t escape, you want to believe him.

Want to believe the beauty of his lies, like you had when you were younger.

From where you’re perched, you can feel the start of his erection pressing against you, and you moan softly in the kiss, rolling your hips. His mouth falls open, and you capture his tongue, sucking on it once before you pull away, leaving hot kisses on his jaw.

“Sit on my face,” he says, and he sounds out of his mind. Crazed, a little like you too feel at the moment.

“What?”

“Can’t get hurt if you sit on my face, angel,” he explains, and then hisses when you suck a hickey on his neck.

You let him pull your shirt off, unclasping your bra yourself as you sit back on his lap. He cups your breasts, rolling your erect nipples between his thumbs and indexes. You moan again, grinding your hips into his, and he hisses once more.

“You want to taste me?” you ask, head throwing back as he pinches your nipples hard.

“I’d fuck you, but you’re the doctor. Can’t risk fucking up my stitches, huh?” he replies, voice low and husky.

Your core heats up, pussy clenching around nothing. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, though you spy desperation beneath it. Like he thinks he doesn’t have forever, when it comes to you.

He’s right. Because tomorrow, you’ll have to go back into town, into the hellscape you call home. What will be left of the two of you then?

So when he tugs at your pants, you give in and get up, taking off your pants and panties in one swift motion. You step out of them, blood heating up by the way he’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes, gaze burning on you.

You have half a thought that you could probably ride him instead of his face, but when you see his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, making them glisten in the candlelight, you need to know what it’ll feel like against you.

So you straddle his face as he guides you down, large hands pushing on your thighs until your pussy is a hairsbreadth away from his lips. He blows on it, and your eyes shut with sensitivity. You clutch the cushion of the couch, hoping it’ll help steady you, but the moment his tongue flicks at your clit, you realize nothing will be able to steady you. Yet you still hold onto it, especially as he dives his tongue between your folds, lapping up your juice. He moans in contentment, before moving to your clit again. And his tongue is wicked down there, like it knows exactly what you like.

You grab a handful of his hair, grinding into his face. You’re pretty sure he’s chuckling down there, and then he unleashes himself. Sucking hard, alternating circling motions to teasing you with his teeth. You’d expect the latter to hurt, but the way he does it just makes you see stars, and your pussy clenches around nothing again.

San is deadly good with his mouth. Both with crafting lies and pulling moans out of you, and your thighs tighten against his face as he sucks particularly hard, before dipping his tongue inside of you. His nose brushes your clit, and then he forces you to properly sit on him.

The way his tongue moves inside of you, lapping up your juices while opening you up, has you on the brink of an orgasm in no time. Especially as he makes you grind again, holding you tight into place. When one of his hands moves from around your thigh to reach your clit, you cry out, head throwing back.

He’s quick to rub at your sensitive clit, and you grab one of your breasts, massaging it mindlessly before you pinch your nipple, hard, right in time with a skilled swipe of his tongue. Your orgasm meets you there, shaking through you as it explodes in a blinding flash of light. You moan, loudly, something that resembles his name, and he keeps you going, guides you through your high until you cringe with oversensitivity.

Only then does he let you climb off from his face. You stand on wobbly legs, before deciding to sit next to him, and you catch sight of the smirk on his lips. It makes you blush, right as you realize what you’ve just done.

When you realize what kind of sinful activity he’s dragged you in, this time around.

“Gosh,” is all you manage to say.

He chuckles, clearly proud with himself. “That felt good?”

You worry at your bottom lip, eyes going down to the tent in his pants. You want to pleasure him too, to take him in your mouth and make him feel good, but he stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t.”

You still and you meet his gaze with slightly-widened eyes. “Why not?”

His features turn somber, haunted, and the heat of the moment passes so quickly you think it might have been a figment of your imagination.

Were you really riding his face just a moment ago?

“Please just lay next to me,” he says, barely even a whisper.

You don’t know a lot of men that would choose cuddling over getting a blowjob, but if that is what he wants, then you’ll give it to him. You lay next to him, glad that the injured side is closer to the couch. That way, you can cuddle up to him, resting your head on his shoulder while he wraps an arm around you.

“Angel,” he murmurs after a time. “You’re a fucking angel. I think you’re my salvation.”

You highly doubt you hold this kind of power, but you don’t want to tell him. Have never been good at weaving beautiful lies for him to believe.

“We should stay here,” he continues. “Forever.”

And you wish you could. Wish reality didn’t exist, didn’t call for you to go back to your regular life like you’ve never been here with him. But you know tomorrow exists, and you’ll have to leave.

“We should have stayed in the field,” you choose to answer. “Under the shooting stars.”

“I wished for a lifetime with you, then,” he admits. “I wished I’d never have to let you go.”

You’d wished for a similar thing, but life is far too cruel to allow a world of first loves.

“Why did you…” you trail off. The question has haunted your sleepless nights for a long time after the break-up. Even years later, you’d still think about it sometimes, wondering if nostalgia would choke you up. “Why did you decide to join the gang?”

He tenses next to you. But you start tracing a mindless circle on his chest, through the shirt, and it distracts him enough for him to reply. “I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you?”

His voice holds the weight of the world when he says, “I did. And I made the wrong one.”

You want to cry, but you’re older now. You’re not the teenager who thought she was going to die from losing him anymore. You know what living without Choi San is like, and as much as it hurts, you know that it’s doable.

“You made the one you believed was right,” you say carefully. “But I do wish you had made a different one.”

He holds you a little tighter, as if that will make it so tomorrow never comes. “Me too.”

There’s an eternity of flickering candlelight on the ceiling, of the circles you trace on his chest and of your breathings forming a melody. Outside, the wind has died down, and the world is silent except from an occasional cricket braving the world after the storm.

“Where will you go, once you graduate?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

Because he knows. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed.

“As far away from here as I can.”

“I hope you find peace, wherever you go,” he whispers. “I hope you forget all about how we grew up in a hellhole.”

Do you feel bad for saying it? Maybe. But you can’t help saying it anyway. “I will, San.”

And like that rainy day years ago, you think you can see him walk away.

*****

Seven years later

The winter sun is strangely bright, up above. You’d think it will warm you up, but the cold is relentless, violent, and it sneaks into your coat as you walk out of the hospital. You’ve just finished a thirty-hour shift, and you can’t wait to be home.

To take a shower and forget that you’ve lost a patient today.

But you’ve saved another. A young man, with a stab wound in his ribs that should have killed him. But you saved him, stabilized his condition to the point you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Which is the only reason why you’re allowing yourself to leave now.

You’re never able to leave until you know your patients are okay. It’s been that way since your first patient, in a cabin in the woods you’ve done your best to forget.

You’d let San stay, after that weekend. He had given you the number of one of his friends, so you could get some clothes for him, and you’d gone back the next weekend. Bringing him the clothes, making love to him under the moonlight as if that would change the ending.

The following week, you had gone back to find the cabin empty. He’d left a note behind.

I hope I can find you again, wherever you go.

You kept the note. It’s in your bedside table, back at home, in the nice apartment you’ve been able to rent for yourself with all the money you’ve been making now. Enough to pay back student loans from med school, enough to reassure you that never again will you struggle.

You’ve never seen San again after. He hasn’t found you, and you haven’t searched for him. Have only looked up his name a couple of times, in the months following his disappearing, scared you’d find out that he was found dead in a ditch. But his name never came up, and you wondered if he had managed to escape, if he had managed to find a place where Bangtan couldn’t reach him.

You found peace, on your side of the country. Life is kinder here, though it still holds the same atrocities. You wonder if it’s the novelty of the city, or maybe if you’ve just grown old enough to be able to withstand the bad that the world throws your way. It’s hard to tell – you haven’t kept contact with anyone from back home, except Jae-on.

Jae-on, who’s moved with you when you’ve decided to come here, like he said he would. Jae-on, who asked you to marry him in late October, and you said yes. The ring sits heavy on your finger, and you mindlessly play with it.

In another world, you would already be married to Choi San. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of that world – a piercing gaze in the morning, a smile and a kiss to your temple. Talks about angels, children screaming in happiness. In another world, you’d be pregnant again, waiting patiently to add another piece of you and him to this world.

It’s fun to think about, sometimes, but you’ve been good at forgetting. Like you told him you would – most times, you’ve forgotten all about Choi San.

But today, you had a patient that reminded you of him. So you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to think about that note tucked in the bottom drawer of your bedside table, hidden under the thick socks you never use.

You allow yourself to think about the cabin in the woods, about the field where you would have gotten married had you been in that picturesque world you like to imagine. You think about laser quests and first kiss and rainy days and meteors. You think about summer, about wildflowers and him.

You’re so lost in thought you miss your stop home, and you begrudgingly get out at the next one. You’re tired, and your hands are shaking as you pull your phone out of your tote bag, wanting to text Jae-on that you’re going to be home late because you missed your stop. You walk to the other side of the tracks, sighing when you see a five-minutes wait for the next subway.

At least the sun is high in the sky, even though it is dreadfully cold. You shiver, putting your phone back in your tote bag so you can hide your hands in your sleeves again, hoping it’ll preserve them from the cold.

In your exhaustion, you forgot your gloves back at the hospital, you realize. It’s strange that you only realize now, and you reckon you really need to sleep, because your brain isn’t even working right anymore.

You sigh, glancing at the display showing the time. Still four minutes to wait. You think at this rhythm you might freeze in your spot before the next subway comes. You try to hide your face in the lapel of your coat, but a movement on the other platform attracts your gaze.

A man is helping an older woman climb down the stairs. She’s speaking loudly, which might be what attracted your gaze in the first place. You follow them as they walk down the stairs, and then when the man turns towards you, you meet his piercing gaze.

He smiles, and you realize that maybe, all those years ago, he was not spinning lies to you after all.

☆☆☆☆☆

Gosh yeahhh rereading it had me ralize that it is a lot sadder than I remembered it to be. At least we got an open ending ... :') What did we think? Should I write about other groups more often? Let me know what you think! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate

Taglist:

@btsborahaee

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: once again mentions of violence from first chapter, self hatred, self-sabotage, sukuna is introspective, but he’s still an asshole, mentions of a sex room (context is necessary to understand lmao)

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*Yuji is aged up but there will be no sexual stuff with him except maybe like a brief mention but yeah*

Also I mentioned this on Ao3 but this work in inspired by “Teeth” by Lady Gaga (also monster by her is so Sukuna coded)

@dressycobra7

Chapter 2 Here!!!!!

Chapter 3: To Hate One’s Self

You were able to sleep way harder than you anticipated. You suspected that the trauma from the whole ordeal would make you unable to sleep at all but there was something comforting about having Yuji with you and even though you didn’t want to admit it, having a demon bound to you was actually pretty fucking reassuring. When you woke up, you immediately decided that you have no desire to even think about going to class let alone actually go. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and rot a little bit. (Only temporarily, Yuji hoped). Yuji offered to go get breakfast for you two and promised he’d be as fast as possible, so you were left alone with Sukuna in your living room while you scrolled through YouTube videos online.

It didn’t take long for your peaceful scrolling to be interrupted by swearing coming from the living room and then an “aha!” You were curious but also scared to know what exactly Sukuna was doing. You decided to remain there until you heard a loud thud. You didn’t bother to fix your hair or your clothes when you peeked out of the door to peer at Sukuna. He had picked up your recliner and moved it across the room, seemingly had thrown it.

“Do you intend to watch me?” He turned his head toward you and rose to his feet from the floor. You realized what he was doing now, eyeballing the tv remote in his hands.

“Uh, no, just—I was wondering where that was.” You stammered. “I checked under there but—“

“It was lodged in the inside of it. I had to shake it around to get it out.” Sukuna interjected.

“Are you gonna… put it back?” You can’t believe you just asked a scary super intense monster demon thing to move your chair back.

He seemed amused but unsurprised by your question. “It was in the way.” His body was fully turned to you now and you couldn’t help but watch his stomach mouth smirk at you.

You opened your mouth to speak but were far too distracted by how one pair of arms crossed themselves while the others sat on his hips like a disappointed mother. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” You finally spoke.

“If you tell that brat to bring me extra food, I’ll move whatever you like.” He grinned.

Food? Okay. Interesting motivation but relatable you thought to yourself. “Yeah, sure.” You opened up your phone and called Yuji, telling him Sukuna wants extra.

“Man, he already eats comical amounts of food… I’m gonna go bankrupt.” Yuji mumbled over the line.

Sukuna had already moved the recliner back to its original spot and was sat, turning on the television after inspecting the remote closely.

Yuji continued. “I think I’ll get barbecue since I can get a whole lot for really cheap. He gets extra needy after he follows a more crazy command. Are you feeling okay?”

You nod, still watching Sukuna. “Yeah. And bbq is fine. I’ll send you my order.”

After hanging up, you walked back into your room and then into the bathroom to fix yourself. You didn’t want to look in the mirror and when you did, you realized you really were right. Your eyes were dark and your skin was so much paler. On top of that, you could see that bruises formed overnight on areas where the men had gripped you extra hard, and not to mention the dryness of your skin, having neglected drinking anything since you came home. Really, you feel ashamed for what you’ve done, you fucked up your life by sucking some shitheads dick and have given your best friend unnecessary stress. You were miserable. Maybe all you should do is rot.

“Hey brat! Teach me how to navigate your technology!” Sukuna called to you snapping you out of your ideation.

A nasty scowl was on his face and his stomach mouth was certainly not smiling anymore. You looked to your tv and realized it was on the wrong input and he was clicking buttons frustratedly, trying to get it off the error screen. You recall that you were playing video games last time you were out in the living room and you must’ve forgot to switch it back.

“Here, press this button.” You clicked the blue input button and it changed to the regular settings. “What are you trying to watch?”

Sukuna scoffed. “I can find what I want myself, I’ve seen the brat do it enough.” He snatched the remote back from you and slowly started to scroll to Netflix and then clicking on the app. It’s fascinating watching him, it’s like watching an old person use a phone.

“Okay.” You waited a moment before deciding to walk to the kitchen, trying to hide the fact that you were curious to see what he’d try to watch.

Sukuna assumed you wanted to watch him, he was tempted to find something that would make you react in an amused way. He didn’t exactly know what, but was determined to get a reaction out of you. He settled on an interesting title, How to Build A Sex Room. Perfect. “Hm.” Sukuna mumbled. “Humans still fuck like rabbits.”

You didn’t know what to say. But what made it worse for you? You had already started watching that show in the past. So it started in the middle of an episode.

“The hell? This doesn’t seem to be right, it’s in the middle of the show.” Then his head was suddenly facing you. “Someone must’ve been watching it.”

You were blushing and even though his face was completely indifferent, you could see his stomach mouth smirking again. “Maybe.” Is all you said. Let’s pray the demon that you just met doesn’t realize that you’re a freak and that he doesn’t understand technology at all.

Sukuna found the restart button fast. Yeah, he knows enough. Damn Yuji for being such a movie nerd! And damn Yuji for having a demon that watches him!

“Hey, I got a a question.” You tried to deflect from your embarrassment.

Sukuna remained fixated on the screen. “I suppose I’ll indulge.”

“Do you have to be around me or Yuji? Or can you roam free?”

Sukuna pursed his lips. “Regrettably, I’m stuck with both of you. If I could roam completely free, I wouldn’t be anywhere near here.” He answered honestly, seemingly unconcerned with how you feel toward his answer.

“How far can you go?”

“That’s already two I’ve answered.”

“Sorry.”

He let out a huff of air. “I’m only teasing. The distance depends, there’s no specification. Sometimes it depends on the security of the master. Presently, you don’t feel very safe so I can’t go far. I could’ve gone with the brat and maintained better distance, but I hate being stuffed into his vehicle.”

That makes sense, he was practically in a million different positions trying to remain comfortable in your friend’s car, thinking about the way he was having to sit made you realize it was a lot funnier than you remember. The recliner he was situated in was almost the perfect size to hug his body. You were sure he’s grateful to not have to follow Yuji anymore, but then again, he can’t get that far away from you either.

“Sorry you can’t leave.” You said.

Sukuna didn’t respond and instead focused on the screen. You attempted to shuffle away now, finding yourself to feel very awkward.

“Hey, brat.” Right as you got to your door he spoke. “You went to sleep with that man, right? I’ve heard you speak about your outings with the other brat and I find it pitiful you choose such sad men.”

Oh shit, you can feel that same tightness in your throat coming again as well as embarrassment flood your senses. You didn’t answer him.

“In my era, a woman like you would’ve been thrown to the masses, celebrated. I never had any interest in women like that but the men that did were ones who could not stand on their own. Taking cock from a man like that will ruin you.”

His words took you aback, not just because of his brazen use of the work cock, but also what felt to you like harsh advice. You sucked down the urge to cry and asked him, “why are you telling me this?”

Sukuna pondered over what he should answer with. “I don’t like watching misery.”

You entered your room and shut the door, unsure if he was being compassionate or shaming you. Either way, the words still hurt. Sukuna himself wondered if he should’ve said that, he doesn’t exactly care for you or anything and neither has he cared for anyone in a very long time, maybe it was an inkling of the past coming through. It was true, he can’t stand watching misery, watching someone wallow in it reminded him far too much of his own upbringing and the sense of being rejected. He had to make his way to the top, to earn the title of Sukuna. He’s long forgotten his name, cursed it to the back of his mind, a part of him he doesn’t desire to remember.

Soon after, Yuji arrived with all of your food and left Sukuna with his family sized meal before entering and seeing you bundled up burrito style on your bed. He could see the redness of your face and immediately knew you were crying again or was. He didn’t acknowledge it, choosing to try and keep you in a good mood by talking about the experience at the restaurant. Luckily, because of his stupid attitude, you were laughing pretty quickly.

Then he popped a question out. “What is Sukuna watching?”

You snorted. “How to build a sex room.”

His eyes widened and his nick stretched forward. “Huh?”

You were laughing a lot harder now. “Don’t ask me, he likes what he likes. You got a freak bound to your family lineage.”

Yuji slumped down onto your floor dramatically. “Man, he’s already a handful now, I can’t imagine how much worse he’s going to get with you now.”

A yell came through the door. “I can hear you!” Yuji straightened fast and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder. He’s such an idiot.

Sukuna wasn’t too amused, hearing Yuji so openly trash talk him and very loudly. Your laughter didn’t make it any better and he found it to be out of place after what you went through. He also doesn’t appreciate being called a freak. At least you’re attempting to move on, Sukuna could applaud you for trying.

“If I hear anything else, you’ll regret it, brat!”

“Whatever!” Yuji yelled back before quieting his voice. “He’s all talk, he can’t do anything to us. Unless we tell him to. Also, he tends to say things in a really abrasive way. He didn’t say anything to you, did he?”

You told him what he said and Yuji’s face shifted back into shock. “The last part was kinda funny. Who says cock so casually?” You laughed, cupping your hand around your mouth to try and keep quiet.

“Yeah, he’s a fucking weirdo.” Yuji was too loud.

“ITADORI!” He shouted and soon enough your bedroom door was wide open. “You sure have a lot to say after I saved your friend so kindly, your ass as well, and even stayed behind to protect her. Not a single thank you.” The demon feigned offense. “Shouldn’t you be groveling and worshipping me for doing such a feat for you?”

You could tell he was mostly joking and trying to irritate Yuji, but you really did realize you needed to thank him. You can’t believe you forgot.

“Hey, listen! You are weird, you’re from like a thousand years ago and are watching a freaky-deaky show! You also have bbq sauce on your stomach mouth! You have a literal mouth on your stomach!” Yuji stood up fast but Sukuna’s towering frame made him look like a child yelling at their father.

Sukuna was grinning down at him. “Hah. Your mouth is running exceptionally fast, might I tell her about that time you got so drunk you pissed on your own floor?”

You rolled back on the bed laughing and Yuji was beat red. “You—you saw that!?”

Sukuna wiped his mouth, briefly glancing over to you. “It was entertaining, how could I not watch?”

You put your hand on Yuji’s shoulder. “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Your kindness is misplaced.”

Hearing his words, you were brought back to your thoughts and managed to make yourself stop snickering. You almost forgot again! Rising up from the bed, you stepped between the two men, confusing both of them, then you bowed your head in front of Sukuna.

His grin faded and his expression turned sober. “What’s this?”

“Thank you for saving me.” You remain bowed. “I’m sorry for not answering your question earlier, as well.”

The demon looked at your head hanging before turning around and saying, “Your apologies are unnecessary, but I will take the gratitude.” He closed your door and you lifted your head, turning back to Yuji.

“Whoa, that’s unusual.” He said. “Sukuna is usually a lot more arrogant than that. You must’ve shaken him up or something.”

You stood there for a moment, pondering Yuji’s words. It was strange, he’s someone who seems to think highly of himself but just blew off your apology like it was nothing. Especially since he was framing what he did as a favor, you expected to see more of a jovial reaction or even a degrading one. He doesn’t seem to be heartless, just a little out of touch, so his reaction does make some sort of sense. Regardless, you don’t know him all that well so perhaps something is off about your newfound bonded demon.

Sukuna sunk back into the chair and continued watching the show, or really what he was doing was watching the images while his brain ran. After watching you from the side from time to time, he determined your naive and self-sabotaging habits to be a bore and overall sad, but now that he’s interacted with you, he almost feels guilty for having seen you in such a negative light. To be so grateful to him when he expressed saving you as a favor, as an obligation, shocked him. Should you not be screeching insults and your disdain at him? Are you that much of a self-hating creature? Did he even view saving you as a favor? He didn’t know, he hasn’t felt pulled to anyone since the Heian era or connected at all in that matter. He wondered, would he have saved you if Yuji had not commanded him to? Is he a creature still capable of compassion and empathy after experiencing all that he has?

[pitchouna]

Meeting Goku x reader headcanons!!

(It's an AU where Chi-chi doesn't meet Goku because I love my girl and I simply hate angst.)

May be ooc since it's my first time writing </3 but overall it's just Fluff!!

Haven't checked for any spelling mistakes I'm too lazy.

Okay so I've recently became a Goku simp and Dragon Ball lover, and I've noticed there's little to no works about him. Which surprised me with how popular the DB series are. Anyways we'll talk about this another time let's begin!!

1k

To Begin, you and Goku met during the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament where you both fought.

Even though you were beaten easily, Goku was amazed to find a strong woman for the first time. He immediately fell in love. (he's too dumb to figure it out and needed Krillin's help.)

Which lead him to ask to train and spar together when you'd both be free. So like everyday.

But of course it wasn't enough interaction for our lovely saiyan so Krillin's helped his best bud having dates ideas such as going to the beach together, going on restaurants (sadly you're the one paying

You two even nap together!!

As you guys may know, this man has got no experience about what personal space means.

So don't be surprised if you get trapped in a hug randomly if you guys nap together!!

No matter how far your beds are he'll randomly find a way to stick with you.

Of course there are some days where Goku may piss you off..

For exemple, when he asks too many dumb questions that your brain just want to disconnect.

Or when you simply don't want to train yet Goku doesn't understand why since training is literally all his life so he could be overwhelming without knowing it.

So you see theses excuses we use when we're too lazy to go out with friends? That was your first thought.

You'll sick to not train since it's the only way to escape training you found yet.

With how dumb he is, you could easily avoid the senzu beans solution.

Unless someone reminds him about it... ( Either it's Krillin, Yamcha etc... )

When learning who told him about it you'll always have a grudge against them.

You'll always be able to count on Bulma though!! Since she knows how men could be such a pain.

Y'all are besties forever and goes shopping at least once in the month (She's such a generous BFF she'll pay for everything)

You both always gossip.

However, Goku hates the days when you go hang out with Bulma.

He's just so bored.. Even if he can train, nap and eat as much as he'd like which is supposed to be his favourite hobbies it won't help..

He just has the need urge to see you!!

So sometimes, when he knows where you and Bulma hangs out, he'll randomly pop up out of nowhere with the Nimbus cloud.

Disappointed, Bulma still gets the message and sometimes will leave you two alone.

"Huh leaving already Bulma? You usually stay longer!" You exclaimed confused as why she was packing up so early.

"Sorry n/n! I just remembered I have a special meeting with some scientists!! Here's the money to pay for the addition. See ya!!" Bulma said in a rush as she left too much money on the table.

"Hold on Bulma you-" You were about to yell so she could take the money back before Goku interrupted you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"It's too late Y/n she's already gone now! Why don't you accept the money?" Goku said with his usual innocent which made you sigh in disbelief. Yet you didn't felt like scolding him right now you were too tired.

"I hope you don't want us to spar or train right now.. I'm too lazy." You mumbled with an irritated voice not wanting to deal with that right now.

"Heheee.. I just wanted to see you!!" Goku chuckled with his usual goofy smile that you started to like so much (But you didn't wanted to admit it yet...)

"You interrupted me and Bulma for that?.."

"But she has to go anyways!!"

"... Fair point."

Too lazy to argue further you just decided to let him win only this time. Since it was very late and you are the laziest person ever.

"Oh!" You heard Goku yell and wondered what that was about.

"Hm? What's up?" You asked him wanting to know what's on his mind.

"How about I take you on a ride home on the Nimbus? We'll get to watch the stars together!!" Goku said patting the Yellow cloud beside him.

"I guess I wouldn't mind..." You said as a small smile appears on your face.

Knowing that only pure-hearted people can go on it you decided to put a hand on the Nimbus and not to your surprise it went through it. Goku seemed very surprised though.

"How? You're one of the kindest person I know!!" Goku frowned wondering why that didn't work but you just chuckled at how innocent and cute dumb he was.

"That's not how it works Goku.."

"How does it works then?"

"I'll explain you another day. I'm too lazy right now... But what do we do now??

After your question, Goku put a hand on his chin thinking about a solution. He found it faster that what you were expecting.

" What about you get on my lap?" Goku said smilling innocently which made you blush.

"Why are you all red so suddenly Y/n??" You just brush it off not wanting to break his innocence of the poor guy.

"Just forget it alright? I'll go on your lap."

Goku chuckles in happiness hearing this. He wasted no time sitting on the Nimbus cloud and putting you on his lap.

He also took the opportunity to place his chin on your head. Which made you blush a little.

"Ready Y/n ?" Goku said Holding your waist. Too lazy as always you just nodded with a hum.

The Nimbus started to make it's way towards your home, as you took the opportunity to watch the beauty of the sky.

Goku smiled at your amazement, he found you so cute.

" Like what you're seeing Y/n?" Goku asked, his happiness obvious in his voice.

However, he heard nothing.

"Y/n ??" Goku asked looking at you just to find you asleep.

Oh well... He was already happy having you in his arms

He made a big detour to enjoy this moment even if you were sleeping.

Oh my god this took much longer than expected... The way I decided to randomly write headcanons out of nowhere instead of finishing my homeworks is wild. I hope y'all will like this!! If not I'll probably kms but it was very fun to write though!!

Will maybe do that another time if I don't forget this account 😭😭

Take care <33

[sarafinamk]

Space Riders Shenanigans Using Incorrect Quotes

There is no Archangel (Reader) in this post. This is just pure chaos revolving around the Smiling Critters crew and Z.

For more information on my Archangel series, check out my author's note at the end of the post. To read my fanfics and other shitposts, click here.

The Smiling Critters Space Riders Au and the character "Z" belongs to @onyxonline Hope y'all enjoy!

Warning: Swearing

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Kickin: Caw caw, motherfuckers!

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Z and Dogday: *staring into each other's eyes*

Catnap: *opens a soda can*

Dogday: We're having a moment.

Catnap: I'm having a cola.

----------

Hoppy: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

----------

*Prepping for a mission*

Hoppy: Yo, you ready to go?

Catnap: Yep, got ready in 5 minutes.

Dogday: Where's Kickin?

Hoppy: *Laughs* Still in the shower.

Kickin, from the shower: GIVE ME A SECOND, OKAY??? DO YOU THINK I WAKE UP THIS BEAUTIFUL EVERYDAY??? NO! THIS TAKES T I M E

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Bubba, in a diplomatic meeting: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit.

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Z: That's ridiculous, the Captain doesn't have a crush on me.

Catnap: Yes he does.

Bobby: Yes he does.

Dogday: Yes I do.

----------

Catnap: Are you mad?

Picky: No.

Catnap: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

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Dogday: We are not mad. We are just disappointed.

Catnap: No, we are mad.

Dogday: Yes. We are. We are livid. But we are going to let this one slide.

Catnap: No, we're not!

Dogday: I am not a mind reader, Catnap!

----------

The Prototype: Enough! How dare you mock me in such a manner?!

Catnap: Well, how would you like me to mock you? I take requests.

----------

*During the Space Riders' trainee days*

Crafty: Wow, this parking is as straight as I am.

Hoppy: I know I should be focused on the fact that you just came out, but HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY PARKING!

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Literally anyone: How many siblings do you have?

Dogday: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

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Catnap: I will put 'A' down to make 'A.'

Picky: I will add to your 'A' to make 'AT.'

Crafty: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT.'

Bubba: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC.'

Hoppy: *flips the board*

----------

Kidnapper: We have your friend.

Bubba: You will have to specify.

Kidnapper, with Z glaring at him: The- the sexy one.

Bubba, sighing: He made you say that, didn't he?

Kidnapper, crying: Please come and get him. He won't stop flirting with me and my wife.

----------

*On a date*

Dogday, to Z: We both look very handsome tonight.

*Later*

Hoppy: You know, if you'd just said that he looked handsome, he would have said, "So do you."

Dogday, with his face buried in a pillow: I couldn't take that chance...

----------

Picky: I baked you a pie!

Cultist: Really?! What flavor?

Picky: *pulls gun out of the pie* DEATH!

----------

Bubba: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Dogday's birthday invitations.

Catnap: Well, what are they supposed to say?

Bubba: "Dogday's birthday."

Catnap: So, what do they say instead?

Bubba: "Dogday's bi."

Catnap:

Catnap: Works out either way.

----------

Hoppy: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgement and criticism.

Bubba: And you came to me?

----------

Bobby: Oh, I have a medical condition alright. It's called "caring too much." And it's uncurable!

----------

Dogday: When did you know?

Bobby: I know a lot of things, Dogday.

Dogday: Why didn't you tell me I was in love with Z?! All this time I could've just -

Bobby: I told you from the start. I spelled out that boy crush to you, to your face, and I don't want to tell you I told you so -

Dogday, groans: Then don't.

Bobby: But I told you so.

----------

Kickin: Dead leafs? That's called yard salad now, and it's the new food trend.

Picky: *Leaves*

Kickin: Where are you going?

----------

Bubba: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell.

Hoppy, Kickin, Catnap, and Dogday: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

----------

Dogday: This is a very powerful artifact. You'd be messing with some forces we don't fully understand.

Hoppy: That sounds like a dare to me.

Dogday: Oh my god.

----------

Picky: *sharpens knife* We've got ways of making people talk.

Picky: *cuts piece of cake*

Prisoner: ... Can I have some?

Picky: Cake is for talkers.

----------

Dogday: I'm not gay, but you look hot today.

Z: We're literally dating.

----------

Kickin: Hey, do you think I could fit fifteen marshmallows in my mouth?

Bubba: You're a hazard to society.

Hoppy: And a coward. Do twenty.

----------

Z: It's pretty cold outside... wanna hold hands? We should stay close.

Dogday, blushing: Okay.

Hoppy: It's fucking summer.

----------

*Picky cooking*

Kickin: Smells good in here.

Picky: Better smell good, it's dinner.

Kickin, picking up a strainer: Oh shit, heard you're not supposed to yell into these things.

Picky: What- Why?

Kickin: You'll strain your voice.

Picky:

Picky: Leave.

Kickin: *leaves the room cackling*

Picky: God-

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Bubba: What's gone wrong, Hoppy?

Hoppy: Hey! That's one hell of a thing to say to a person. Just because I'm calling doesn't mean there's a crisis.

Bubba: That's technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling?

Hoppy: Well... There's a crisis.

----------

Bobby: I know you love him.

Dogday: I am not in love with Z!

Bobby, smugly: I never said who...

Dogday: *realizes*

----------

Bubba: I just accidentally prematurely sent an email to Commander Ludwig... It was supposed to say "I am afraid that we will have to postpone our meeting," but I hit send when all it said was:

Bubba: Dear Commander Ludwig, I am afraid.

----------

Crafty: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable...and also assault with a deadly weapon.

----------

Hoppy, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Bubba.

Bubba, not looking up from his coffee: Good morning, problem child.

----------

Bobby, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

----------

Kickin: I'm 80% awesome 20% water and 100% handsome.

Bubba: That's 200%

Kickin: I'm twice the man you'll ever be.

----------

*Bobby training Dogday on how to flirt with Z*

Bobby, whispering: Just tell him "You have beautiful eyes."

Dogday, whispering back: Good idea.

*Dogday turns to Z*

Dogday: I have beautiful eyes.

Bobby: ...

----------

Kickin: You have crayons?

Crafty: Yes, I have-

Kickin: You're- how old are you?

Crafty: YES I AM AN ADULT AND I HAVE CRAYONS. I HAVE A BOX OF EMERGENCY CRAYONS IN THE CABINET UNDER THE TV BECAUSE EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS SOMETIMES, OKAY? EVERYBODY NEEDS CRAYONS.

----------

Picky: Did you wash the dishes?

Catnap: I thought you wanted to do that...

Picky: *chuckles* You were WRONG.

----------

Bubba: That's a nice argument, Kickin. Why don't you back it up with a source?

Kickin: My source is that I made it the fuck up!

----------

Kickin: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail, spectacularly."

----------

Dogday: Does everyone know their job for today?

Crafty: Water the flowers.

Bobby: Vacuum the carpet.

Catnap: Wash the dishes

Hoppy: Pretend to be a wolverine.

Dogday: Close enough.

----------

Picky, washing the dishes: Who the fuck used this pan??

Picky: Wait. I the fuck used this pan...

Hoppy: It was you the fuck.

Picky: It was I the fuck...

Bubba: Who cooks rice in a pan?

Hoppy: She the fuck.

----------

Bubba: If you've got any questions, just ask.

Kickin: If a bear and a shark had a fight, who would win?

Bubba: ... If you've got any RELEVANT questions, just ask.

----------

Hoppy: *sighs*

Catnap: You bored?

Hoppy: Yeah.

Catnap: Wanna start drama for no reason?

Hoppy: I thought you'd never ask.

----------

Kickin: *Gasp*

Bubba: WHAT??

Kickin: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish?

Bubba: *inhales*

Dogday, in another room with Catnap: Why can I hear screeching?

----------

Picky: Alright, what pizza toppings should we order?

Catnap: Anchovies and pineapple.

Hoppy: I like beets!

Z: Have you guys ever had a cheese-less pizza?

Picky: I'm disowning all of you.

----------

Crafty: Hey, Dogday? Can I get some dating advice?

Dogday: Just because I'm with Z doesn't mean I know how I did it.

----------

Kickin: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.

Picky: No, that's not how you make cookies.

Hoppy: FLOOR IT!!

Kickin: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?!?

Picky: YOU'RE GONNA BURN THE SHIP DOWN-

Kickin: I'M GONNA HARNESS THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!

Hoppy: DO IT!

Picky: NO-

----------

Dogday: Good morning.

Bubba: Good morning.

Catnap: Good morning.

Kickin: You all sound like robots, trying spicing it up a bit.

Hoppy: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS!

----------

Dogday: How did you crash the ship?!

Hoppy: So I was just flying today, right? And my navigation told me to go straight.

Hoppy: I was like "woah, that's homophobic." Instead, I went gay. And, THAT'S when I got into an accident.

Dogday: ...

----------

Dogday: Z kissed me!

Catnap: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Dogday: It was unbelievable!

Bobby: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Crafty: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Picky, get the wine and disconnect the communicators. Captain, does this end well or do we need tissues?

Dogday: Oh, it ended very well.

Picky: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Hoppy: Okay, alright, let's hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, "I gotta have you now" kind of thing?

Dogday: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it.

Bobby: Ohh... So, okay, was he holding you? Or were his hands on your back?

Dogday: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair.

The girls + Catnap: Ohhh.

*Meanwhile with Z, Kickin, and Bubba*

Z: And, uh, and then I kissed him.

Bubba: Tongue?

Z: Yeah.

Kickin:

Bubba:

Z:

Kickin: Cool.

----------

Author's Note: Thank y'all for the love and support you've given me so far. You guys have been amazing. Trust me, I haven't lost interest in the Space Riders Fandom, and I have more ideas for the Fallen Angel series. It's just that I have classes to make up for this summer because of negligence from my uni. I'll do my best to post more, but just be patient with me. Thank for your understanding.

[yago-undertale]

uh... hello guys, how are you? I hope so because... personally I'm not doing very well... at the moment I'm very... overwhelmed with everything that's going on in my life this month, even though the month is just starting haha, but it's a fact that I don't have answered questions in the meantime, given the fact that I don't have time... look, it may seem silly but let me explain, imagine this... you spend the whole day at school from 6am to 4pm and I still have to do some tasks at home and after that you have to do a presentation project worth 7 points but you still have to draw so you don't worry about annoying the people who follow you and then making you more worried and agitated for fear of you not doing a good job thus making you truly do a bad job due to total nervousness! and when you realize...

...

You realize that it's been 5 hours and you haven't been able to rest, much less make any kind of progress on the things that haven't made you rest for the same reason that you're exhausted, but instead of sleeping and resting, you're guided only by your emotions , you decide to stay up until 2 or 3 am leaving you with a total of 3 hours of sleep, you understand what I'm getting at, right? I'm not saying that I don't like drawing or anything like that, I'm just saying that at the moment I'm very overwhelmed... and I can't think straight about drawings, of course, that doesn't happen. It doesn't mean I'm going to leave Tumblr or anything like that, I'm just saying that until things calm down I won't post many drawings here, I can still post some training animations or simple doddles, but at the moment these drawings are all worked with dt and a responding scenario questions will be left aside I apologize for not wanting to disappoint you I promise..! but this is necessary for my physical... and mental health... forgive me...i really dont wanted to..

In the momment i just want to talk with someone..

-Yago Undertale, aka the creator of Au

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r; 3

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 5.5k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | nightmare, idiots, little childish superheroes...

note | i'm sorry it took me long to update! but here is it. I'll be posting more drabble about them soon. this is less angsty than the first two. i hope you enjoy reading it! thank you so much for your patience :)) reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3

series masterlist

This is like heaven.

As you two were walking, you cannot stop yourself from looking left and right at what the place looked like. Every piece of equipment, furniture, and gadget seemed really modernized. The predictions of the future in your time are nothing based on what you are just seeing now in this compound.  You knew you must restrain yourself from getting your hands on the small, pocket-sized screen Steve kept tapping on when you two agreed to step out of the clinic. Your brain, although stressed, was burning with curiosity. Especially with that invisible voice that he talked to while you two walked out.

“Friday, where’s everyone?” Steve suddenly asked out of nowhere.

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you confusedly turned your head to Steve. You don’t have any idea who he was talking with since you two were the only people around when he spoke.  

“Who’s Friday– Jeepers!”

You jumped, clinging immediately to the man beside you when a stiff, feminine voice spoke. 

“Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are nearby the lakes. Dr. Banner is in his laboratory. The others are currently resting in their respective rooms.”

Steve, who was also surprised at your reaction for a second, chuckled and whispered, “It’s fine.”

Embarrassed, you remove your hands that were clinging to his arm and cleared your throat. You ran your hands down to your clothes to at least look decent again.

“I’m sorry for my reaction.”

You wanted to ask a question about it. But Steve must have been tired from hearing you asking questions like a kid. It’s been hours now and you kept on asking from one question to another. So you sealed your lips shut. Yet, Steve seemed to read your mind since he explained it to you as you continue walking.

“That’s Friday. She’s an A.I. that Tony created. She helps a lot here so if you need–”

“What’s an… A.I.?” you interjected.

The last two letters rolled off your tongue like you were unsure about it. An A.I.You thought of any possible meaning of it that you could have learned before but you cannot think of any. 

“It stands for Artificial Intelligence. I was surprised too when I encountered it for the first time too. It was crazy to see the advancements of technology from this time.” he shared, to assure you about your reaction earlier.

You chuckled lightly with that, “Yeah, it’s strange to see everything here. Just hours ago, I am back in my own lab with… Howard… but now, I’m looking at these new things…”

You paused with the thought of your best friend. Steve quickly noticed your heavy sigh and lonely gaze on the ground while your shoulder slumped. You were just distracted by your chat with Steve a couple of hours ago in the clinic and now, it’s beginning to sink in. He can see that based on your expression.

He calls your name softly, “Y/N?”

You slowly looked up your eyes glistening. You spoke, “Is this really it? Am I staying here forever?”

“I… I don’t know, Y/N. I’m sorry. I really am.” he apologized, disappointed himself too.

Steve could say that Tony and Bruce can probably try and build another time machine. But he doesn’t want to give you false hope. And he won't know if Stark would want to attempt on making a time machine after this– you coming back– happened.

Am I staying here forever? 

He remembered asking the same question himself years ago when he got back. Fury once told him that time machines are impossible when Steve was still unaware of Howard’s attempt. Fury said that no one ever succeeded in operating one. He did not even mention what happened to you. Steve only knew about your disappearance when it slipped Peggy’s tongue when he was visiting her in the retirement home. He tried to ask her again about it, but due to her condition, Peggy had a hard time recalling everything. 

Both shocked and frustrated, Steve immediately confronted SHIELD’s former director about it. He learned that you are basically an open secret to everyone working with the organization. Natasha later presented him with the last photo of yours taken before the time travel attempt. It was said to be photographed by a certain Robert Smith.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry for pressing all my questions to you.” you breathed out. And before he can say anything to console you, you continued, “I should probably rest. Everything has been a lot…”

Steve silently nods. You two continued to walk. You were just following him since you don’t really have any idea about this whole compound’s navigation. So when Steve stopped in a hallway of doors, you stopped too.

“Here is our extra room. This can be your room for the meantime.” he introduced as he opened the patterned grey door.

Your eyes instantly traveled around, curious about what bedrooms might look like in this future era. The room was simple but more spacious than your bedroom in your own apartment. This one has a kingsized bed, a bedside table and lamp, a wooden desk at the nearby window, and two doors. It was pretty plain, confirming that it was really just an extra room. Steve walked you through it.

“You have your own bathroom here.” he opened one of the doors and you took a quick glance inside it. Steve opened the other one, “This is your closet.”

“But I don’t have any more clothes, Steve.” you awkwardly mentioned the obvious. “I don’t even think I’ll be able to sleep with this.”

Howard reminded you days after you said yes to being his test subject that you should dress properly on the day of the event. He said that it will make a great impression if someone sees you in the future. It was probably a joke from him. But you did wear the most pristine and presentable blouse and slacks you have. It even reminded you of Katherine Hepburn’s outfits.

And now, here you are. Although these are your best work clothes, you would have to sleep in them. You find it uncomfortable. Back in your apartment, you have long, cozy, silk nightgowns and pajamas that you wear after a long day in the laboratory. The material was soft and helps you to fall asleep quickly after laying down on your bed.

“Uhm… maybe…” Steve avoided your gaze as he tried not to stutter with sharing his idea. He honestly looked like a kid as his lips twitched timidly, “You… You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight.”

“Oh, uhm…” you stammered, eyes slightly widening. The idea of wearing his clothes unexpectedly bought flutters in your stomach. Doing that seems too intimate. 

Not wanting to make you feel any discomfort, he thought of another suggestion, “Or maybe I can ask the others if they can lend–”

“No, no. That would be more troublesome. I would rather borrow yours.” You fiddled with your fingers as you looked into his eyes, “Is that fine with you?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Steve nods. “Let’s go to my room.”

“Huh?” your eyebrows furrowed with your mouth slightly agape. 

Steve immediately realized what his last sentence sounded like, making his eyebrows raise. He explains, “I mean so that you can pick out the clothes yourself.”

“Oh, okay…” your voice trailed off before pursing your lips together.

There was this obvious silence as you two walked side by side. You were fiddling with your fingers while he looked around the compound as if he didn’t live here. The air felt like when you put two awkward teens in one room. His door wasn’t too far from yours, only four doors away.

“Come in.” 

And when he opened the door, a fresh scent of rosemary and mint welcomed you. It brought instant more comfort to you than the last room. Maybe because this one is more personalized to Steve’s own character. Your eyes traveled to the desk in the corner, where you spotted a familiar framed sketch.

“Oh, I know that one.” you pointed out, seemingly proud as you turn your head to Steve. He chuckled. You continued, “You were drawing that monkey when you were doing one of your USO tours.”

“Yes. It was during that time. You and Howard came to watch for the first time.” Steve recalled and you nodded.

As much as he hates it, Steve remembered that time of his long life crystal clearly. He just got the serum, Erskine died, and he wants to immediately serve in the army. But he ended up doing performances all over the nation in a patriotic overall spandex and red boots. 

Sure, he had a few good memories from that chapter of his life. But it mainly felt awkward. Especially that time he performed in front of real soldiers, who were very opposite of his usual young fans, in deafening silence. Or when you and Howard would come and watch a couple of his shows if you have the time. He remembered feeling more self-aware on stage in his fitting costume and weird helmet punching a fake Hitler, knowing that you are somewhere in the crowd.

“Here is my closet by the way.” Steve changed the subject and you followed behind him.

His clothes were well-organized and followed a color palette. Of course, the shade of blue stands out. Steve did let you pick out, telling you that anything would be fine.

“You have a lot of these so I’m just— Oh.”

You stopped when you unfolded one of the white shirts. When folded, it looked plain. But as you spread it out, there was a word written on its front.

“Capsicle?” you read it out with one of your eyebrows raised.

“It was a gift from Tony. He used to call me that.” Steve explained and you only stared at him as if you don’t understand it. He exhaled, “You know… because I, Captain America, was frozen in ice for decades.”

“Oh!” you tried not to giggle but failed. “I’m sorry for laughing. It just sounded like something his father would do or say.”

“Yes, they are very much alike.” Steve just agreed.

Not long after, you two walked out of his closet with his clothes in your hands. You chose that shirt (even though Steve tried to convince you that there are other choices) and plaid blue pajama pants. He walked you back to your room, asking if you still need anything.

“Just knock on my door if you need anything. Okay?”

You smiled, “I will. Thank you so much for everything, Steve. I really appreciate it.”

Not wasting any second, you hugged him. You thought that you’ll just do it quick as you don’t want to cause any discomfort to him. But when you felt his hands on your back, you found yourself relaxing your chin on his shoulder. Whatever heaviness you felt in your chest was slightly lessened with his simple action. When you slowly moved away, Steve’s electric blue eyes looked directly at yours with a certain— you don’t really want to assume but— tenderness. 

“I’ll introduce everyone to you tomorrow. But for now, you should rest,” he spoke.

You nodded and opened the door to your room, stepping inside. “Good night, Steve.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You gently closed the door while Steve watched you. Leaning your back on the door, you huffed like you held out your breath for a long time. You looked up like question marks were flying around your head. All of this… everything… feels unreal.

You were blanked out as you changed into Steve’s clothes. His shirt was oversized on you but cozy like your nightgowns. The hem of his pajama pants reached the carpeted floor. You don’t mind though. You’re too exhausted.

You almost climbed to your probably new bed. It smelled nothing like yours. But it was nice and soft enough to make your eyes shut close within just a few seconds.

“Just take a shot. But don’t interact with anyone.”

You see your best friend, standing near the controls. You looked down at your hands and you see that you were holding a camera. Turning your chin up, you see Donny’s little hand waving against the glass. Susan smiled. You looked to another person in the room, Robert. He gave you a thumbs-up as he positioned himself behind his large camera. You looked back to Howard.

“Even to one person?”

“Even to one person,” he repeated.

Then suddenly, all you can hear is the heavy beats of your heart. It was like a countdown. You closed your eyes. The sound of your heartbeat trailed off and now you can just hear your own breathing. You slowly opened your eyes. Nothing.

You look around and it’s nothing. Just a pitch-black void. You didn’t dare to move as you don’t know where to go. Alone, you wrapped your arms to yourself. That’s when you notice the camera’s gone too. It’s not even cold but you feel like trembling. Then, you heard Howard’s voice. It echoes in this empty dark space you’re in.

“This one will be a big success, Y/N.”

But he is nowhere to be seen. Your pulse is back beating at the loudest volume, it was much faster than ever. You tried to scream– call for your dear friend. But was stopped when you heard his voice again.

“This one will be a big success, Y/N.”

And again.

“This one will be a big success, Y/N.”

And again.

“This one will be a big success–”

“STOP!”

Eyes wide open, you found yourself on the same bed you slept on. You were sweating bullets on your forehead as your chest heaved up and down, slowly calming down. There were already rays of sunshine that transcended to the window and you can clearly see that you are still where you were last night. 

“Oh my…”

All you can do is let out a shaky sigh as you bury your face in your palms. You wanted to scream. Maybe cry. Or just run your fingertips through your hair and pull it out of your scalp. This whole situation makes your toes curl. 

You got up from bed and make your way to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, you looked at yourself. Your eyes were slightly puffed from all the tears you let out last night. Your forehead is glistening from sweat while your hair is disheveled. You looked worse than the nights you worked overtime in the laboratory.  You shook your head at the sight before opening the tap, splashing a refreshing amount of water on your face. 

You were dabbing the available white, fluffy towel on your face when you hear knocks on your door. You turned to the mirror again. You wished you could do something with your hair. But you don’t have any hairspray or elastic to at least fix it. Instead, you just ran a comb through your hair. The comb seemed clean as you found it on the small bathroom shelf. It didn’t took look before you open the door.

“Good morning.” Steve greeted you. “Did I woke you up?”

“Oh, no,” you replied, shaking your head.

“Great… Uh, breakfast is ready. I figured I’ll introduce you to everyone out there.” 

“Okay…S-Should I change my clothes?” you wondered as based on Steve’s stories last night, these people are the world’s mightiest heroes. 

You wondered if they are formal-type of people. Maybe pompous or superior? Well, you already met two of them last night: Tony and Banner. And in all honesty, you don’t remember much about the latter. Only Tony since you learned he is your best friend’s son and if you were here by the time he was born, you knew Howard would pick you as that man’s godparent. Plus, you remember Tony because you can already feel how he’s so much of his dad.

“That’s fine. We’re just having breakfast together before our training. But you do you. You can change if you want.” Steve replied.

“Well, how do I look? Do I at least look presentable?” you just asked since you still want to look decent even though they saw you in distress before.

He nods, “You look great, Dr. Y/N.”

You don’t know if he was teasing or reassuring you. But your heart skipped when he said that. You hid a faint smile forming on your lips as you closed the door behind you. You just followed him. It took you seconds to realize that you were in an elevator. It’s obviously much different and updated than the one from your time. But you cannot help but notice something specifically,

“They used to play music…” you muttered as you leaned against the cold wall.

Steve, who was leaning on the other wall, chuckled, “Yeah, I know. I tried telling Tony to bring it back.”

The elevator door slides and you immediately hear various noises from different people. As you got closer to the noise, you move closer to Steve. He offered you a smile, and you reciprocated it. You step inside what seems like a kitchen and it goes quiet.

If eyes can shoot bullets, you’re probably dead by now. Everyone looks at you and you put on a small smile. Your eyes traveled around until you locked with a friendly pair. Sergeant Barnes. You cannot stop your gaze from shifting from his face down to his arm, which looked very much different. Your eyes moved back to his face and his lips formed a tight smile. Steve was the one who broke the silence, clearing his throat.

“Everyone, I would like you to meet someone…”

He looked at you with encouragement and you nodded.

“Hi… Uhm… I’m Dr. Y/N from Stark Industries.” you used your usual introduction before adding something else. “I… I came from the 40s.”

It was dead silent for a few seconds before someone stepped up first.

“Hi! I’m Wanda Maximoff.” the woman with long, red hair introduced herself. She wore a friendly smile as she offers her hand. You shook it, smiling at her. “Nice meeting you, doctor.”

“Just my name will be fine,” you told her.

Another woman followed, “Natasha Romanoff.”

She sounded stern but she offered a kind, small smile. She also has red hair but is shorter than Wanda’s. 

“Good morning, Dr. Y/N. My name is Vision.”

This time, a literal red person approached you. He seemed like a robot but more human. It was confusing. Another guy stood up from his chair near the kitchen counter.

“My name’s Sam Wilson. I fly around too like that Android.”

“Yeah, except he still needs to put on his little wings before he can do anything.” 

You heard Barnes behind him. Sam immediately countered an answer, “I can throw punches too!”

“Sam served in the Air Force.” Steve, who’s beside you, added.

Both your eyebrows raised, “Oh, really? That’s amazing.”

In your time, the US Air Force was just founded. You never really met anyone from the Air Force and to have one in front of you right now, you feel amazed. 

“Enough of that. Let me introduce myself to Dr, Y/N.” Bucky walked to you as Sam stepped back, rolling his eyes.

“Oh Sergeant Barnes, You don’t have to introduce yourself. We’re way past that,”  you told him and he chuckled.

You didn’t stop yourself from hugging him. You were just so happy to see both Steve and Bucky alive as you lost them both in the same year. Back in the 40s, Bucky knows a lot of places to hang out and would invite you to go with them. Howard would tag along sometimes too. But you and Bucky get to talk a lot since Peggy would usually pull Steve with her.

“How are you, doll?” 

You were too focused on the changes in him that you can’t answer his question. Instead, you touched his left arm, feeling its cold metal surface. The texture felt familiar.

“Your arm…”

It was obvious that you have a ton of questions in your head. But Bucky just looked at you that says: I’ll tell you later. Then, your eyes landed on a boy sitting beside Sam on the kitchen counter. He instantly looks away when you locked eyes with him. You figured he is still a student as his dark blue long-sleeved shirt has the logo of Midtown School of Science and Technology. You’ve never heard of that school before so it was probably established after the 40s. Your eyes traveled back to his face. He seemed flushed as you stare at him longer.

“Hi…” you greeted him in front of everyone. 

You tried to be friendly as the kid seemed very scared of you. His eyes widened. Sam had to nudge him to make him move. He put down his bowl of cereal and timidly walked up to you.

“H-Hello, ma’am… My name’s Peter Parker.” he stutters as he gently shakes your hand. “I really like– love your research journals. Especially the one about the possibility of a multiverse.”

Peter almost jumped when your other hand unexpectedly caged his hand. You looked at him with delight, “Really? You knew about that?”

Joy filled your heart when you heard that. It was like your mood was instantly lifted again. Your research journals are your children. You were always proud of them but often overlooked by your other colleagues since a woman wrote them. Only Howard shows enthusiasm for it and would bring it up in conversation. 

“Yeah, I came across your journal in the school library before. Then, Mr. Stark let me read your other journals.” he chattered.

“Mr. Stark?” you repeated.

“Yeah, someone’s calling for me?”

As if on cue, Tony walks in with an auburn-haired woman that looked familiar. The woman smiled at you, “Hi. I’m Pepper Potts. It’s nice to meet you.”

You don’t want to assume things but she seemed close to Tony. Like a partner– not a work kind– but a romantic type. It made you think about who your best friend ended up with. Howard didn’t seem like someone to settle down with. He never talked about wanting to get married or even having a family of his own. He only has flings, rarely a relationship. He’s bad at ending things with these women and would often let Jarvis dismiss them. The first time you learned that about him, you slapped him on the back of his head, saying how awful that is. Later on, Jarvis told you that Howard would give out a special bracelet to his flings as a parting gift. 

“Let’s have breakfast?” she offered and you nodded.

Plates were already on the table, along with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. You sat between Steve and Bucky, who were both considerate. They offered you syrup and orange juice while the others talked about their plans for the day. You listened quietly, chewing on the fluffy pancakes you heard Wanda prepared. You were really not used to having your meal with anyone as you live alone. But hearing conversations and banters made you more comfortable in this modern time you’re thrown into. Peter left early since he said he was stopping by his aunt before going to school.

“Where are they going?” you whispered to Steve as Tony and Pepper say goodbye.

“Tony has a conference somewhere in Europe, I think… Pepper going to work.”

“What’s her job?” you asked before reaching for the orange juice.

“Pepper leads Stark Industries.”

Hearing that, you choke on your drink. Natasha, who was eating in front of you, handed you a napkin while Bucky gently pats your back. Steve took your glass from you.

“I’m sorry.” your voice muffled as you cleaned up your lips. Then, you turned to Steve, “How?”

“Tony appointed her as CEO of the company eight years ago.”

That was his answer. Like it was something Tony usually does.

“By the way, we’re going out later.” Steve changed the subject as he stood up, taking your finished plate with his to the sink.

“We are?”

“Yeah, let’s buy your clothes and other things you need. Wanda’s coming with us,” he replied, opening the tap.

“I… I didn’t take my money with me,”

Bucky stifled a giggle beside you, making you turn around to him with a glare. He always found it marvelous how you are both naive and genius. You were one of the most intelligent people he knows. But you also seemed innocent with anything out of your expertise. He noticed it when you would hang out in diners or jazz clubs where a lot of men would try to make a move with you. But you would unintentionally reject their subtle invitation. 

“Don’t worry about that.” Steve turned around, hands all soapy. “Just go prepare. We’re leaving after.”

You sighed, “Okay.”

“I thought you were off to Italy today for that mission.”

Natasha was the first one to speak when you walked out of the room. Wanda and Vision left too. Sam is still finishing his mug of warm coffee. Same with Bucky. Steve can feel his friends’ eyes daggering on his back as he rinsed off the soap bubbles from the utensils and plates. He didn’t answer until he was done with it.

“I asked Clint and Bruce to cover for me.” he simply revealed.

He sees Natasha biting her lip, attempting to hide a forming smile. So is Sam, who grinned as he takes a sip in his cup. Meanwhile, Bucky stayed shameless, smirking as soon as Steve looked at him. Steve raised an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sam replied, but his tone screams something else. “But is she wearing your clothes–”

“So this is about that.” Steve lets out an exasperated sigh.

“No! No! We think it’s cute on her.” Bucky protested. Natasha even added, “Yeah, she’s cute.”

“Just tell me what is this all about. What’s with the eyes and smiles? You look like you heard some gossip somewhere.” 

“Well… if you put it like that…” 

Bucky looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. Both Natasha and Sam snicker. It was a childish scene. Steve rolled his eyes as his shoulder slumped. He never thought he would be in this situation with his superhero friends, who are all acting like giddy high school kids right now. Now wanting to deal with them anymore, Steve was about to leave. Not until Sam confessed,

“Bucky told us you had a crush on her back in the 40s.”

He froze in his tracks, processing what he just heard. The three waited for his reaction, only watching him as he turned around.

“What? I… I never said that.”

Bucky then looked to their other friends, “See? He didn’t deny it.”

Steve shakes his head as they laughed. Without saying anything more, he chose to just walk out.

“I can’t find anything there, Wanda.”

Steve and Wanda drove you to this indoor shopping place. They said it is called a mall. There were a lot of people when you arrived. You thought a mall was just a big place where you buy clothes. But it turns out to have more of that. Instead of clothes, you asked Steve if you can buy books when you passed by a bookstore. Steve also let you have some stationery. You ended up buying three books: one sci-fi book that was really popular in your time, another sci-fi that just came out, and The Little Prince. 

Now, you, Steve, and Wanda are eating in this cute diner Steve knows. He said he goes here at least once a month in his free time. The place is almost close to the diners from your time. The colors, the patterns, the booths, and even the staff’s uniforms were almost resemblance. But when you look at the customers, you’ll realize that this is not the 1940s.

“I mean, I have nothing for the fashion you have today. They are all divine. And I don’t mean to be a fuddy-duddy but I would want to wear something that I usually wear.” you explained before sipping your milkshake

“I understand, Y/N. I thought we could find something you will like there.” Wanda’s shoulder slumped.

“We did find some things there!” you exclaimed, referencing the shopping bags next to you.

You shopped for books and a couple of nice sleepwear. You also have a pair of shoes, sandals, and a slip-on that you and Wanda chose. You were happy to have someone commenting on your choices. Wanda and you almost agree on the same thing and would laugh about your thoughts about something.

“How about you, Steve? Where did you get your clothes when you got here?” you asked the man in front of you. He has been pretty quiet since you got in the mall. He will just pay for things and compliment the shoes you bought.

Steve chewed his burger first before replying, “SHIELD just provided it to me.”

“Wait! I think I know a place.” Wanda exclaimed.

“Holy mackerel!”

You squealed as you saw the exterior of the antique store Wanda said. Your eyes sparkled as you see the furniture and clothes. Steve opened the car door for you and you swore you almost ran straight to the door. A bill clings when you opened the door.

“Steve! Look at this!”

Steve turned in your direction and sees you pointing to a record player. You carefully reached for one of the records displayed. It was Frank Sinatra’s record. You looked at it with delight. Steve knew he had to say it,

“We can buy it if you want. I have a record player. We can put it in your room since I don’t use it much.”

The glimmer of happiness in your eyes shined more, “Really?”

“Yeah, consider it as a welcome gift.” he quipped and you instantly wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, thank you so much, Steve.”

The day went on with you jumping around the same shop. Wanda was happy to pick out clothes with you. There were limited choices but they were all eye-pleasing and suited your style. You got dresses, blouses, and trousers that were all much cheaper than the dizzying prices in the mall. The old woman who owns the shop was amazed at your enthusiasm for what she called “vintage” fashion.

“How old are you, honey?” she asked as you place a large number of clothes for checkout.

“I’m 29, ma’am,” you replied with a smile.

“Oh, you’re almost the same age as my granddaughter. But I don’t think she would wear this same type of clothes.” she shared. “You know, these clothes came from the old, old times. Most of these clothes are my mother’s”

You wanted to say that you came from that old, old times. But you knew how complicated and insane would that sound.

“Your boyfriend must be so–”

“Boyfriend?”

The lady fixed her glasses as she looked at you, “That guy. Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

She nods her chin in Steve’s direction who was also strolling around the place. You hoped he didn’t hear what the lady said as he seemed focused on the furniture displayed. Wanda was looking around too.

“Oh, no. We’re just friends, ma’am.” you giggle timidly.

“You can call me Nancy, honey.” she introduced herself. “And you have great friends. That girl has said nothing but praises when you were trying out these clothes and that man…”

She signaled you to come closer to her, which you did. She whispered, “Take him out on a date. He’s a dreamboat”

“Nancy!”

You felt warmth all over your face. It was like blood rushes up to your cheeks and ears. You thought of doing it before but you never had the courage to do it to anyone. You knew Steve already had his attention on someone else. Nancy just laughed at your flushed reaction.

“Oh, honey. I’m just saying that I think he’s a catch.” she winked. “Anyway, who am I to meddle with your life?” you laughed at that. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Y/N, ma’am.”

You didn’t realize that she had already finished putting the things you bought in a bag when she pulled something under her counter.

“Y/N, honey, this is a gift since you are one of my largest spenders this month in the shop. It was from someone important to me and I can’t really wear or sell it here. But I would love to see it on you.”

“Nancy, you don’t have to– Oh, wow. This is so pretty.” 

She hands you a simple, white pearl necklace. It was kept in a boxy, that’s why it looks shiny and good.

“I know, honey. I’ve been keeping it in a box for a long time now. I don’t really wear that kind of necklace anymore and was just waiting for the right customer to give it to. Since I liked how excited you are when you entered my shop, I’m giving it to you.” she told you.

“Oh, Nancy, I’m going to be a regular in here.” you quipped as you tried it on. “How is it?”

“It’s lovely.” she compliments. “And yes, I would love to see you coming here again anytime soon. I love talking to you. You somehow remind me of my old friends.”

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST (edited)

@supraveng @sunflower-golden-vol6 @curi0usc4t @caitlyn-who @bitchy-bi-trash @stilltoomuchafangirl @matisse556 @gitasor @ladybug05 @sunwoahkim @meanttobea @j69confessional2 @thenyxsky @maximoffmaxipad @swthxrry @justab-eautifulmess @7minutes-tomidnight @curlycarley @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @wisepenguin @shatfairy @coffeeshub @stillthatbetch @cosmicgirls-things @sabrinaselina55 @mediocre-m @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @mrsjaderogers @themerc-with-a-mouth @slutdreams @mrbutterbunz @royalwritersoftheuniverses @yunloyal @avengersinitiative2012 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @noodle81937 @madnessinwrighting @lilizia @saintmagx @evanswife1918 @saranghaey @elmphoenix17 @animegirlgeeky @t-stark35

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@rosedpetal

[jayteacups]

✍️ Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to other writers you know. Let's spread some self-love! 💛

Thank you Val @youre-ackermine and Kat @humanitys-strongest-bamf for sending these! (I’m only reccing 5 today, sorry to disappoint you Kat 😂) Here's my five favourite pieces of work! Tbh I haven't been writing as much lately so this list probably won't have anything new to anyone, but hey.

It's A Wrap! (Tumblr | AO3)

A one-shot featuring Actor Levi and Makeup Artist Reader, friends to lovers and mutual pining 👀

I've written multiple Actor AU pieces (I love reimagining the AOT characters as actors, 10/10 would recommend as a way to cope with the pain of canon 😂😭), but this is in its own separate universe and I'm planning on writing a couple more fics set in this specific universe!

I had so much fun writing it (I hope it showed haha), and that's why it's on this list as one of my favourites!

The Absence of Warmth (Tumblr | AO3)

Gen one-shot centred around the No Regrets trio (with Levifar crumbs because I love them)

I also had a lot of fun exploring the trio's dynamic here, I'd like to go more in depth again with these three someday

My most underrated fic for sure haha

My piece for Levi Week 2023 - Day 3 (Tumblr | AO3)

All the fluff and softness you could ever want. Will never stop writing sweet and soft fics for Levi because he deserves it 😌😌

This was partially based on a dream I had, actually, which makes this more personal, and therefore, one of my favourites.

Me remembering what I dream about is a very very rare occurrence, and rarely do those dreams include fictional characters, funnily enough 😂 so it was an extra special occasion when I woke up and actually remembered the dream I had of walking on a beach with a blushy Levi whilst the sun was setting and it was all sickeningly cutesy and romantic. I wrote it down, fully intending on writing it, and never got around to it, until I saw the prompt for Levi Week Day 3, and was like... hang on, this could work 👀

Gentle Touches (Tumblr | AO3)

Levi experiencing affection for the first time is a trope I can't get enough of, and it seems the two anons who sent me the request are the same hehehe

Fluff and softness, emotional hurt/comfort towards the end! Also this was a fic that made me realise how touch starved I myself am 🥲 I've been told that this made people quite emotional too, which is reassuring, as I was aiming for that! So yeah I'm quite proud of this one ☺️

At Ease (Tumblr | AO3)

Definitely one of my more creative premises! I genuinely don't remember how I came up with this though, but yes this role-reversal AU was very fun to write and I'm so pleased with the outcome :3

Some emotional hurt/comfort, pining, all round softness (are you beginning to see a trend here)

This was really fun to look back on my fics and pick out favourites! Will be sending asks to people tomorrow because I'm quite sleepy rn and will be heading off to bed now. Hope everyone has a lovely day/night!

[icy-watch]

Well, that was certainly an ending to a season.

I can tell what inspired the Hageman Brothers for the ending of Rise of the Titans (2021). It’s pretty much the same ending beat for beat.

I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't that.

I really don't have too many thoughts on the finale, it's mostly just "at least this was the ending to the season, and not an entire series". Was it the best? No. Was it the worst? No. Just meh.

Had I seen this 2 or 3 years ago, I might have felt differently, but RotT really did a number on me. (If you haven't seen any of the Tales of Arcadia series, please consider yourself lucky. It started off very well but ended Badly.)

I'm glad the the sky pirates turned out to be pretty ok in the end. I really grew to actually like them. I'm going to be sad if they don't show up again.

And Echo! Oh, gosh Echo. Sweet baby boy. I loved the little bit of time we got with him. I hope he comes back again.

I haven't looked to see what the next season will be called yet, but I'm hoping we learn more about the previous Elemental Masters. We've been getting a little bit here and there, but it feel like there's more to their story than we've been told so far.

Tomorrow, I'll be watching the Day of the Departed, and maybe the Wu's Teas shorts, if I can find those. Until tomorrow!

@ninjamelissajulien

Below the cut are the predictions I got right and wrong.

Correct

The ninja will be caught at some point by the po-po. And get thrown in a jail cell with one bed.

Nadakhan will pick them off one by one.

The wedding is inevitable. It sure was something.

Mutiny from the crew. Better late than never.

Jay will recruit Echo Zane to help him rescue everyone. He did and he got more friends.

I'm going to cry bc of the wedding thing and everything surrounding that. I cry at things very easily, so this wasn't really a surprise on my end.

Incorrect

Cole will get cured of being a ghost this season. He sure didn't.

Pixal will get a new body. RIP queen.

Nadakhan is going to use Wu to draw out the ninja and make them retrieve the Realm Crystal. This is such a great AU idea.

Going The Mummy (1959 & 1999) route to raise a loved one from the dead -- to bring back Delara. She was brought back via wish, not an entire sacrificial ceremony.

Nadakhan will be trapped in the sword once he's defeated. *disappointed noises*

Flintlocke had a thing for Delara. I'm actually surprised that this wasn't a little subplot. It actually felt like something they would have done.

Jay will be forced to help piece Djinjago together. There were other plans.

Cole, Nya, and Lloyd are going to spend the whole episode planning on how to save Jay. The used that time to try to leave the island. I completely forgot that was something they needed to do in order to even start planning for a rescue mission.

Ronin will help in the rescue mission for Jay. He really didn't.

Jay knowing the ins and outs of the Keep will help them navigate their rescue mission. Yeah. He did all that cleaning for nothing.

Flintlocke swiped the poison and the dart from Clancee. Clancee told Jay where he hid it.

Partially

No one from the Cursed Realm will come back. Sort of? Clouse wasn't in the Cursed Realm when it collapsed, but he was a resident there for a while.

They won't lock Misako up. The didn't even get a chance to finish questioning her before she was kidnapped by Nadakhan.

Kai will be needed to collect the Tiger Widow Venom, and without him the team will struggle. They did struggle without him, but I'm not sure how much help he would have been given the circumstances.

We're going to learn how Jay lost his eye. Sort of? But not really.

[frosting-pudding]

Hello, me here.

Sorry I REALLY REALLY haven't been active on Likenapple or Big Tony's Tumblr, so if you sent a question or anything to either of their inboxes I PROMISE they WILL get it answered. Just got hit with a ton of random exhaustion recently and my boss (a dude in the fan discord server) made me take a 1 week vacation (ending soon!!). So I hope to get over my exhaustion soon 💪😎.

In return for my inactivity, here's this thing I made (Figure skater au 🤨) (yes there's 3 bc I couldn't decide which I liked best)

YES I WILL MAKE A BUDDY VERSION SOMETIME BUT THIS TOOK OVER 5 HOURS TO MAKE (mostly sketching and giving up ideas). But I'm sure you won't be disappointed with Buddy, hehehehee...😈

(nvm I decided #1 is best)

[unicornbeck]

Which leads me to a question...

When in Season 3 will Crowley's glasses come off? (And 2 sub-questions: when will we, the audience see his eyes uncovered, and when will he trust Aziraphale enough to take them off again?)

As much as I love our demon's gorgeous golden orbs, one of the things I'm very much hoping for is a reliance on this established symbolism to convey what Crowley is too tongue-tied, or too wounded, to say.

If we see his eyes at all in episode one, I'd be very surprised. A little disappointed, too, although I suppose I could see an 80s-style training montage of Crowley drinking As Much As It Is Physically Possible For One Immortal Being To Consume-- but even then, I don't think he'd take his glasses off. And I don't think the angel will get a look until the second half of the season, at least.

Part of me really wants him to have stayed in London and established connections with humans or Muriel, but honestly, I think getting spectacularly dumped by the only being he's ever loved (because he finally went against every instinct and every belief about his own unworthiness that he had) would leave him feeling gutted, embarrassed, humiliated, hollowed out, carved into pieces. He won't want to be seen at all.

Given the way neither Maggie nor Nina saw either of our ineffables disappear, Nina because she was pretty swamped, and Maggie because she fell asleep, they may think that the boys ran off together. If Crowley comes back he'll be miserable fielding questions about it. I really want Nina to get him spectacularly drunk and get him talking. But I don't think he'd let a human in that far.

I think he would go on a binge, alone, and he'd spend almost all of it castigating himself for having allowed himself to believe that anything might happen with Aziraphale. He's a fucking demon, he will remind himself. He knows better than to open himself up to that level of vulnerability, that kind of hurt. He'll go to some pretty dark places, not Hell, but here on Earth. He'll see his pain as mostly his own fault, with a healthy dose of pissed-off reserved for the angel and Heaven and the Metatron. I think he'll be angrier at himself than he is at all the rest of them combined, though, and that's saying something. He'll try to drown the broken feelings with alcohol and and anger, masked by indifference.

He's faked things before. But it will leave him cold and joyless. He might try to sleep for a few years, to avoid dealing with it. Might run away for a spell to other places... But we know that nothing will solve it for him.

I kind of want Crowley to become a surfer, and to channel his self-destructive risk-taking into fighting waves in Portugal. He'd look great with surfer hair, and I can see him pretending pretty successfully that it's healed him, while inside, he'd still be a mess.

Somehow, my post that started as a thoughtful meta ended up as a suggestion for a really spectacular AU.

[ananke-xiii]

My ranking of SPN seasons (based only on their PLOT) pt. 2

In my previous post I'v covered the following:

15: Season 14

14: Season 15

13: season 7

12: season 3

11: season 6

Let's continue!

10. Season 13: this season was a HUGE disappointment to me. The first 6 episodes are brilliant, the writing is excellent, the actors gave their best performances, the scenes were well thought out, the pacing is slow but keeps the audience interested. The plot is intriguing: the heroes are mouring the death of Castiel while trying to both find a way to find their mother and to take care of Jack. In the meantime, the audience comes to understand that there's a new player in town: The Empty. It's mysterious, it seems evil, it seems total. I'm hooked. However, after episode 6 the plot sort of changes, it's like the first 6 episodes were a completely different season. By the end of season 12 we were already introduced to the existence of a parallel world and after episode 6 of season 13 we kind of explore more of it. The plot goes in that direction: the heroes must go to the alternate universe to save their mother. However, frankly, it's all very messy and overly complicated. I'm usually super pro AU, different timelines, same characters but from parallel realities and the like, but this time I was not engaged. I felt quite let down by this season (which also ends in a ridiculous battle that, once again, undermines everything that was said&done in season 5 but OKAY!).

9. Season 12: this season is a bit of a mystery to me. The main plot is: find Lucifer, consequently find Kelly Kleine and ultimately find Lucifer's son. So far so good. I like it. Clear, linear yet stimulating. The subplot is Mary Winchester and the British Men of Letters. Now, while I enjoyed Mary's character I utterly hated the whole BML arc. Just hated it. That Ketch? I hate him. I have no rational reason to explain why but I really hoped he would be killed off by the end of the season but surprise! He'll stick with us until season 15. Not amused. To be fair, the BML is not really a subplot, more of a parallel plot in that it has no correlation whatsover to the main plot. Also, some crazy shit happens in this season like Dean and Sam get caught by a super special police force, are imprisoned for like 3 months or something? unalive themselves, come back to life by making a reckless deal with Billie the reaper, and then go back to normal and no mention of it all is ever made. Well, okay writers' room. All in all, I gotta say that I place this season here in my ranking because it has some amazing episodes and the ending is a bomb. So I gotta give credit where credit's due.

8. Season 1: hear me out, I know that for some this is an iconic season and, honestly, fair enough. But, as any other season 1 of the majority of TV shows, the plot is not exactly exciting? Sure, we get to know our heroes and their backstories, but there are no allies, no other interesting characters, the 2 heroes seem to be living in a vacuum. The plot is simple, clean and intriguing enough to keep you watching, but it doesn't exactly keep you on your toes.

7. Season 10: oh my, oh my. Season 10. WELL. I have to confess that I hated this season with a passion. This is where I was tempted to stop watching Supernatural. I'll tell you why but first, the plot: Sam and Cas try to save Dean from the Mark of Cain. The subplots? Cas trying to bring angels back to Heaven (?), then the whole Castiel/Claire arc, then again Castiel vs Metatron, the mini and insignificant arc centered on Cole... Many, too many for my taste. The effect is that all these subplots are smoke in the eyes to cover for the total absence of creativity to solve the Mark of Cain plot. HOWEVER, however. Since I hated it with a passion, I've decided to watch some episodes again and to read some meta about it. And I gotta say, I was not paying attention. Sure, the plot is what it is and I won't change my mind about it, but ACTUALLY what happens in this season is that the REAL plot is characters' development, specifically Dean's and, to a lesser degree, Cas's. It also makes more sense if you understand that the whole season is about the Dean-Crowley-Cas love triangle. If you get that, you will enjoy the season. I didn't and, as a result, I didn't quite like it. But I gotta be honest and say that the writing for this season was pretty good. Finally, like season 7, this is a connecting season, it prepares us for season 11 where the real prize is. So, in retrospective, I think it deserves ranking number 7 because it didn't give us anything substantial in terms of events but the characters grow a lot after this season so good for them (and for us).

[sketching-shark]

This may or may not have asked more than once but I wanted to ask— what is your favorite alternate universe or stories of jttw in Tumblr? I've seen the glorious works of Kaijufluffs and kiri with her monkey business (may be some lmk here and there), but so far that's the only things in my list. There was also that one jttw artist and their au but like, it was from the 2015 movie (I think) and somehow integrated w the west pantheon too (their name might've been sun or something)

If you do and can, can you list down ur fav AUS and what you think of them? I've been following ur blog for a while and wanted to ask (but I've just been too shy)

Thanks for the question anon! And yes! There are definitely some fun JTTW aus out there; people on this site are incredibly creative.

So to begin, are you talking about the aus made by @sunny-days-and-warm-mournings? Because I know that they've come up with a number of AUs, and that from what I've seen they're all bangers with all sorts of interesting takes and flavors, from making everyone's favorite monkey more a god of food to a terrifying death deity! As you can imagine this has led to many a stellar design from the whimsical to the horrific for all of these monkey kings, each of which is fully worth checking out. tbh I feel like you should just scroll through their gallery to find them all & will promise that you won't be disappointed.

If you're looking for something a little more lego show flavored, then you should check out @digitaldoeslmk's "by the book au!" Its Monkey King is extremely fun sized, and it's really neat for the way it explores heartfelt sides to MK and friend's stories in a Monkie Kid scenario where JTTW happened according to Wu Cheng'en's story and where reality isn't constantly in danger so we see fun stuff like lion dancing and putting on plays and the warm interactions that come with it (& also where everyone isn't routinely yelling about how awful & incompetent SWK is fsgreafw).

I also have to give a shout-out to @violetvirus for their JTTW cyberpunk au! It's got a very fun and bouncy cartoon vibe to it, and I love how SWK, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing look as robots <3. There's hints of some interesting ways the JTTW scenario works with a cyberpunk setting, as well as some moments of silliness like this banger:

Last but certainly not least, and while its been awhile since he posted, I would definitely recommend checking out @antidotefortheawkward and @antidotefortheawkward-art's blogs for his JTTW AUs! Seriously, his blogs are cornucopias of wonderful JTTW aus, from an actors AU to a triad AU to a Lotus Lantern AU to a post-JTTW JTTW au! Each of these really shows a lot of attention and care for the characters and the details of the world they inhabit from clothing to religion to history, which as you can imagine opens up multiple opportunities for some really lovely, heartfelt, and overall great interactions. A few personal favorites include this comic of an conversation between Sun Wukong and Liu Chenxiang of Lotus Lantern fame:

A comic about Sun Wukong's reactions after first learning that Xiyouji included details about his time as Puti Zushi's tudi:

And to end on something a little darker, a comic for his JTTW-ish/Macbeth au.

So those are the JTTW aus I can think of at the top of my head, but I sincerely hope you find them as fun and interesting as I do anon! And needless to say if anyone has a JTTW au that they think worth sharing, please do so.

[north-noire]

!! AYO! Just sliding here to say that your art HELLA rocks yo!!

I've been meaning to say that your story telling though art and animatics, along with other forms of expressing your AU is really neat and REALLY cool!!

I wanted to say this sooner but anxiety just got the best of me :'D!! BUT YEAH! Keep up the good work and I HELLA look forward to your story when it finishes!!

Hello hello achillean-knight!! AAAAA OH MY GOD THANK YOU??? I always loved your art/paintings as well THEY'RE SO WELL MADE (esp that one Springtrap artwork IT IS SO GOOD) and hearing that from you is so flattering!! I love your paintings and concepts overall as well!! AAAAAA thank you so much!! It really means a lot!! I really love yours too, I'm at the edge of my seat!! Oh my god, I'm so sorry about your anxiety (I can relate), but please don't be afraid to ask me/go in my inbox!! I'm really just some artist on the internet at the end of the day, sending hugs your direction! Thank you so much for looking forward to my AU and story!! </3 Hope I won't disappoint, I seriously appreciate this this made my night!